#gonna have to SPICE THINGS UP NEXT CHAPTER

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |9|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Nine: Struck by Cupid's Knife

Summary: After working up the courage, Tara asks you to spend Cupid’s birthday with her, but neither of you could have predicted the results.

Warning(s): Swearing (I think), arguing, Tara wearing The Skirt™️, innuendos, miscommunication/shit communication and mentions of masochism.

Notes: Reader’s a thirsty son of a bitch.

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

You're sprawled on Tara's couch, one hand absently scratching behind Dookie's ears while the other reaches for your water. The cat purrs contentedly in your lap, a rare sight according to literally everyone who's ever met the notoriously selective feline. On screen, Leatherface is doing what Leatherface does best – terrorizing unsuspecting teenagers with questionable decision-making skills.

"You know," you muse, "for someone who claims to hate slashers, you sure own a lot of them."

Tara throws chips at your head. It misses spectacularly and lands on Dookie, who gives her the most withering look a cat can muster. "I never said I hate slashers. I said modern slashers lack the psychological complexity of—"

"—of 'Prom Night,' yes, we've all heard the dissertation," you interrupt, earning yourself another chip projectile. This one actually hits its mark. "Which, by the way, is absolutely not better than 'Sleepaway Camp.'"

"Oh my god, are you seriously starting this again?" Tara pauses the movie, turning to face you fully. "Angela Baker is iconic, sure, but—"

"But nothing! The psychological implications alone—"

"The psychological implications of a movie that ends with—"

You both start talking over each other, your voices rising with practiced familiarity of an argument you've had dozens of times before. Dookie lifts his head to watch the verbal tennis match, tail twitching with mild interest.

"Okay, okay," Tara finally concedes, though her tone suggests this is far from over. "We can agree to disagree. For now. But only because I'm starving and we still haven't decided on dinner."

"Indian?" you suggest innocently, already knowing the response you'll get.

Her eyes narrow. "You know damn well what happened last time."

"You mean when you insisted you could handle the spice level and then spent three hours complaining about heartburn?"

"I did not complain for three hours."

"You literally texted me at 3 AM to tell me your esophagus was staging a coup."

She throws her hands up in exasperation. "Fine! What's your brilliant suggestion then?"

You pretend to think about it, even though you both know exactly where this is heading. "Well, there's this place I know. Makes great burgers, killer onion rings, milkshakes that'll change your life…"

"You mean the same place we always go?"

"If it ain't broke, princess."

The nickname slips out before you can catch it, an old habit you can't seem to shake. Tara's expression does something complicated – a mix of annoyance, fondness, and something else you're not quite ready to analyze.

"Speaking of things that aren't broken," she starts, then stops, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "There's this Valentine's party next week…"

You focus very intently on Dookie's fur, suddenly finding the pattern fascinating. "Oh yeah? Sounds fun."

"Yeah, it's at Chad's place. You could… I mean, if you wanted…" She trails off, then quickly adds, "But you probably have plans."

"Actually," you say, still not looking up, "I was just gonna stay in. The new season of 'Yellowjackets' dropped and—"

"Oh." There's something in her voice that makes you finally look up. "That… that sounds good too."

A moment passes, filled only by the sound of Dookie's purring and the paused image of Leatherface on the TV.

"You could join," you offer, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them. "If you wanted. Instead of the party."

Tara's face brightens for a split second before she schools it into careful neutrality. "What happened to your sacred solo binge-watching ritual?"

"Well, Dookie's already broken that rule," you gesture to the cat who's now fully asleep in your lap. "Besides, someone needs to be there to judge my commentary."

"Your commentary definitely needs supervision," she agrees, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But what about Chad's party? You sure you don't want to…" she waves her hand vaguely.

You raise an eyebrow. "Want to what?"

"Nothing," she says quickly. "Just… you know. Meet people. Or whatever."

"Careful, Carpenter. That almost sounded like jealousy."

"You wish," she scoffs, but there's a faint blush creeping up her neck. "I just don't want you blaming me when you miss out on finding your soulmate at a frat party."

"Right, because nothing says true love like keg stands and questionable punch."

She throws more chips at you, but she's smiling now. "Shut up and watch the movie, dork."

You press play, and Leatherface resumes his rampage. But you can't help noticing how Tara seems more relaxed now, how she's shifted slightly closer on the couch. Dookie stretches in your lap, completely unbothered by the chainsaw sounds from the TV, and you think maybe this is exactly where you're supposed to be.

Even if Tara is completely wrong about "Prom Night.

—

Valentine's Day arrives with all the subtlety of a horror movie jump scare. You're pacing your apartment, pretending you haven't spent the last hour deciding what to wear for what's supposedly just another movie night. Dookie, who somehow managed to sneak into your place during Tara's last visit and never left, watches you with judgmental eyes from his perch on your bookshelf.

"Don't give me that look," you mutter, adjusting your shirt for the hundredth time. "This is completely normal behavior."

Dookie blinks slowly, unconvinced.

Your phone buzzes with a text, and you definitely don't lunge for it like a teenager waiting for their crush to call.

Tara (6:45 PM): omw Tara (6:45 PM): with snacks Tara (6:46 PM): and NO you cannot veto my candy choices this time

You smile despite yourself, typing back a quick response.

Dork (6:46 PM): If you brought those weird swedish fish again, we're going to have words

When the knock finally comes, you open the door to find Tara wearing a skirt that makes your brain short-circuit. It's not even particularly revealing – just a simple black pleated number that hits just above her knees – but something about the way it moves when she walks past you makes your mouth go dry.

"Earth to Y/N," Tara waves a hand in front of your face. "You gonna let me in or just stand there having a stroke?"

You snap out of it, closing the door perhaps a bit too quickly. "Sorry, just… wondering if I should be concerned about what's in that suspiciously large grocery bag."

"Liar," she smirks, dropping said bag on your coffee table. "But I'll let it slide because I'm feeling generous."

Meanwhile, in a group chat you're blissfully unaware of:

CORE 4 & CO.

Mindy: TARA CARPENTER Mindy: YOU DID NOT JUST LEAVE THE HOUSE IN THAT SKIRT Mindy: TO GO WATCH TV Mindy: WITH YOUR “NEMESIS”

Sammy: Let her live, Mindy

Chad: anyone else find it sus that they're both skipping the party? 👀

Mindy: "skipping the party to watch yellowjackets" sure jan

Tara: i can see these messages you know

Mindy: EXACTLY Mindy: WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING

Chad: yeah wearing The Skirt™️

Tara: it's just a skirt omg Tara: and don't you all have better things to do??

Mindy: than watch you attempt to seduce your nemesis? Mindy: absolutely not

Sammy: I'm turning off notifications Sammy: have fun sis Sammy: and remember to text me if you end up staying the night

Tara: SAM

Back in your apartment, you're trying very hard to focus on setting up the TV and not on how Tara's legs look when she's curled up on your couch. It's just a skirt. You've seen skirts before. This should not be affecting you like this.

"You know," Tara's voice breaks through your internal crisis, "for someone who was so excited about this show, you're spending a lot of time staring at everything but the screen."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but she cuts you off with a knowing look.

"The remote's upside down."

You look down. The remote is, indeed, upside down in your hands. "I'm trying a new technique," you deadpan, refusing to acknowledge the heat creeping up your neck.

"Uh-huh." She shifts on the couch, the movement causing her skirt to—nope, you're not looking. You're absolutely not looking. "You know, we could still go to Chad's party if you're having second thoughts."

There's something in her tone – a careful casualness that doesn't quite mask the uncertainty underneath. You finally look at her properly, taking in the way she's trying to appear nonchalant while picking at a loose thread on your couch cushion.

"And miss the chance to prove how superior 'Sleepaway Camp' is to your precious 'Prom Night'? Not a chance, Carpenter."

The relief that flashes across her face is brief but unmistakable. "Oh my god, you're still on that? You know what, just for that, I'm eating all the good candy."

"Bold of you to assume any of your candy choices qualify as 'good.'"

She throws a Swedish Fish at your head. You catch it with your mouth, surprising both of you.

"…Okay, that was actually impressive," she admits.

"I have hidden depths," you say solemnly, finally settling onto the couch beside her. "Now shut up and watch the show. I have theories about Lottie that will blow your mind."

As the opening credits roll, you're hyper-aware of every inch of space between you, of how her skirt brushes against your leg when she reaches for the snacks, of how this feels simultaneously like nothing and everything has changed.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Henry asking how your "not-date" is going – but you ignore it. Right now, all that matters is this moment: Tara's commentary about the show's color grading, the way she unconsciously leans into you during the tenser scenes, and how maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you both want to be.

The thing about watching TV with Tara Carpenter is that she can't sit still to save her life. She's constantly shifting, readjusting, finding new ways to accidentally-but-maybe-not-accidentally end up closer to you. It's maddening in the best possible way.

"That's not how decomposition works," she critiques, reaching across you for the popcorn. Her skirt rides up slightly with the movement, and you suddenly find the ceiling fascinating. "The timeline is completely unrealistic."

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was sitting next to a forensics expert," you quip, trying to ignore how she hasn't fully moved back to her original position. "Please, enlighten us with your extensive knowledge of body disposal."

She turns to face you, and you immediately regret your life choices because now she's even closer, her eyes sparkling with that dangerous mix of challenge and amusement that always spells trouble.

"Well, considering the ambient temperature and soil composition—"

"Is this the part where I should be concerned about your search history?"

"Please," she scoffs, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Like yours is any better, Miss 'I-need-to-research-medieval-torture-devices-for-academic-purposes.'"

"That was one time!"

"The FBI agent watching your browser history probably needs therapy."

You're about to retort when she shifts again, and suddenly her leg is pressed against yours. All coherent thoughts evacuate your brain without so much as a goodbye note.

"You okay there?" she asks, and there's something in her tone that suggests she knows exactly what she's doing. "You seem a little… distracted."

Two can play at this game.

"Just thinking about proper body disposal techniques," you say innocently, stretching your arm across the back of the couch. Not quite around her shoulders, but the implication is there. "You know, for academic purposes."

She raises an eyebrow. "Is that your way of threatening to murder me? Because I've got to say, your technique needs work."

"If I was going to murder you, Carpenter, you'd never see it coming."

"Promises, promises."

The air between you crackles with something that definitely isn't just friendly banter anymore. On screen, someone is probably being dramatically eviscerated, but you couldn't care less because Tara is looking at you with that half-smile that makes your stomach do Olympic-level gymnastics.

Your phone buzzes again, breaking the moment. This time, it's a series of texts from Henry:

Henry (8:15 PM): so how's the not-date going?? Henry (8:15 PM): has anyone been murdered yet Henry (8:16 PM): either literally or metaphorically Henry (8:16 PM): also tony says hi and wants to know if you've kissed her yet

"Something important?" Tara asks, and you quickly lock your phone before she can see the messages.

"Just Henry being Henry," you say, silently plotting your best friend's demise. "Probably asking if we've murdered each other yet."

"Night's still young," she shrugs, but she's still got that look in her eyes that makes you want to either kiss her or start an argument about horror movie tropes. Possibly both.

"Speaking of murder," you say instead, because you're a master of deflection, "want to hear my theory about why 'Sleepaway Camp' is actually a groundbreaking commentary on—"

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. "Oh my god, you're actually the worst."

"That's not what you said when I brought you soup when you caught the flu."

"That was before I knew you'd use it as ammunition in your endless crusade against good taste in movies."

"Bold words from someone wearing a skirt that's clearly meant to be a distraction from your terrible opinions."

The words are out before your brain can stop them. Tara goes very still, and for a moment you think you've miscalculated spectacularly. But then she looks at you with an expression that's somewhere between amusement and challenge.

"Is it working?"

Your mouth goes dry. "What?"

"The distraction," she says, and you swear she moves even closer. "Is it working?"

You're saved from having to answer by Dookie, who chooses this exact moment to jump between you, apparently deciding he's been ignored for far too long. The cat gives you both a look that clearly says "I've had enough of your nonsense."

"Traitor," you mutter to the cat, who responds by making himself comfortable across both your laps, effectively creating a furry barrier between you and Tara.

Tara laughs, scratching behind Dookie's ears. "My hero," she coos to the cat. "Saving me from another lecture about Angela Baker's psychological complexity."

"You're both against me," you declare dramatically. "I'm being ganged up on in my own home."

"Cry about it," she suggests sweetly, but she's leaning against your shoulder now, and Dookie is purring, and maybe being ganged up on isn't the worst thing in the world.

—

"I cannot believe you're still defending this," you say, watching in horror as Tara drowns her mac and cheese in a truly concerning amount of hot sauce. "This is actually painful to witness."

"You're being dramatic," she retorts, adding what appears to be her entire body weight in ketchup to the already crime-scene-worthy pasta. "Some of us actually like flavor."

"Flavor? That's—" you're interrupted by the doorbell, which is probably for the best because you were about to launch into a dissertation about the difference between flavor and masochism.

"I'll get it," Tara says, but you're already standing up.

"Absolutely not. I've seen enough horror movies to know the cute girl who answers the door always dies first."

The word 'cute' slips out before you can catch it, and you practically sprint to the door to avoid seeing her reaction. This proves to be a tactical error when you open it to find possibly the most conventionally attractive pizza delivery guy you've ever seen, complete with the kind of jawline that belongs on a CW show.

"Hey," he says, then looks past you to where Tara has appeared behind your shoulder. His entire demeanor shifts, voice dropping an octave. "Hey."

You resist the urge to close the door in his face.

"That'll be twenty-four fifty," he says to Tara, completely ignoring your existence. "Though I could make it free if you'd let me take you out sometime."

Something hot and uncomfortable coils in your stomach. You reach for your wallet, but Tara beats you to it, pulling out cash from her pocket.

"Here's thirty," she says, a slight flush creeping up her neck. "Keep the change."

"You sure I can't convince you?" He flashes a smile that probably works wonders at frat parties. "I make a mean pasta. No ketchup required."

Your head snaps up at that. He must have overheard your earlier conversation, which means he's been standing here long enough to eavesdrop, which means—

"She likes her pasta exactly how she likes it," you say, perhaps a bit sharper than necessary, taking the pizza from his hands. "Thanks for the delivery."

You close the door before he can respond, turning to find Tara looking at you with an expression that makes your heart do something complicated in your chest. The flush on her neck has spread to her cheeks.

"So," she says, voice carefully neutral but eyes dancing with something that looks suspiciously like amusement. "No ketchup required, huh?"

"Don't start," you mutter, carrying the pizza to the kitchen. "And don't even think about putting hot sauce on this. I saw you wincing earlier from your mac and cheese."

"My tongue is fine," she protests, following you. "Besides, maybe I like the burn."

"Your masochistic tendencies are concerning, Carpenter."

She hops up onto your counter, legs swinging slightly in that stupid perfect skirt. "Says the person who just went full guard dog on the pizza guy."

"I did not—" you start, then catch the look on her face. "I was just… concerned about food temperature maintenance."

"Uh-huh." She's full-on grinning now, cheeks still tinged pink. "And I suppose the death glare was just about proper pizza handling protocols?"

"You know what?" You grab a slice, pointedly avoiding her gaze. "I preferred it when you were defending your crimes against pasta."

"Speaking of which…" She reaches for the bottle of hot sauce she apparently manifested from thin air.

"Absolutely not." You snatch it away, holding it above your head. "I'm not listening to you complain about tongue burn all night again."

"Bold of you to assume I need your permission," she says, sliding off the counter and stepping closer. Much closer. Close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

Your breath catches. She reaches up, ostensibly for the hot sauce, but her hand lands on your wrist instead. Neither of you moves.

"Tara," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Your mac and cheese is getting cold."

She laughs, the sound soft and close, and you think maybe this is better than any Valentine's party could ever be. Even if she is completely wrong about pasta condiments.

"You're impossible," she says, but she's smiling, and she hasn't moved away, and maybe—

Dookie chooses this exact moment to knock over the entire box of pizza.

"Traitor," you both say in unison, then look at each other and burst out laughing.

The moment breaks, but something else settles in its place – something warm and comfortable and maybe a little bit inevitable. Like the way Tara's hand is still on your wrist, or how she's looking at you with that half-smile that makes your heart skip beats.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, screen lighting up with a notification. Tara glances at it reflexively, and something in her expression shifts – subtle enough that someone who doesn't know her as well as you do might miss it, but you've spent months cataloging her micro-expressions during horror movie marathons.

"Charlotte?" she says, and there's something in her voice that makes your stomach drop. "Didn't realize you two were still talking."

You reach for your phone, but Tara's already turning away, suddenly very interested in reorganizing the scattered pizza toppings on her plate. "It's not—"

"No, it's fine," she cuts you off, but her shoulders are tense in that way they get when she's trying too hard to seem casual. "I mean, obviously you can talk to whoever you want."

"Tara."

"I just thought after what happened at New Year's—"

"Nothing happened at New Year's," you say, perhaps a bit too quickly. "We just talked."

She lets out a laugh that doesn't sound like a laugh at all. "Right. Because that's totally why you disappeared for an hour and came back looking like—"

"Like what?" There's an edge to your voice now, the playful atmosphere from earlier evaporating like morning dew. "Come on, Carpenter. Say what you really mean."

She finally looks at you, and there's something raw in her expression that makes your chest ache. "Like you'd rather be anywhere else. With anyone else."

"That's not—" you start, but she's on a roll now.

"You know what? It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have…" she trails off, pushing her plate away. "This was stupid. I should go."

"Are you seriously doing this right now?" You follow her as she starts gathering her things. "Over a text message you didn't even read?"

"This isn't about the text," she says, but she won't meet your eyes. "This is about you always having one foot out the door."

"Me?" You can't help the incredulous laugh that escapes. "That's rich coming from someone who can't even admit why she really skipped Chad's party tonight."

She freezes, one hand on her bag. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means." Your heart is pounding, words spilling out before you can stop them. "You're not the only one who's allowed to be scared, Tara."

The silence that follows is deafening. Even Dookie seems to be holding his breath, watching from his perch on the bookshelf with unblinking eyes.

"I'm not scared," she says finally, but her voice wavers slightly.

"No?" You step closer, close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. "Then why are you running?"

She looks up at you then, and there's something in her eyes that makes your breath catch – a mix of vulnerability and defiance that's so uniquely Tara it makes your heart hurt.

"Because you let her kiss you," she whispers, and the words hang in the air between you like smoke. "At New Year's. You let her kiss you, and then you came back and acted like nothing happened, and I—"

"She didn't kiss me," you interrupt softly. "I stopped her."

Tara blinks. "What?"

"She tried, yeah. But I stopped her." You run a hand through your hair, frustrated. "Because apparently I'm pathetically gone for someone who puts ketchup in her mac and cheese and thinks 'Prom Night' is better than 'Sleepaway Camp.'"

A beat passes. Then another. Tara's still holding her bag, but her grip has loosened.

"Pathetically?" she repeats, and there's a hint of something in her voice that might be hope.

"Absolutely tragic levels," you confirm, taking another step closer. "It's embarrassing, really. I can't even enjoy pizza delivery without getting jealous."

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "That was pretty embarrassing."

"Says the person who wore The Skirt™️ to watch Yellowjackets."

She flushes, but she's not running anymore. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Tara," you say softly, "I notice everything about you. It's kind of the problem."

She looks at you for a long moment, then slowly sets her bag down. "You really stopped her?"

"Of course I did." You reach out, tentatively tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Some of us don't have terrible taste in everything."

She laughs, the sound watery but real. "Just in movies, right?"

"And pasta condiments," you agree, and when she smiles, it feels like coming home.

The moment stretches between you like taffy, sweet and fragile. Tara's looking at you with those eyes that always make you forget how to breathe properly, and you're close enough to count her freckles, to see the way her pulse flutters in her throat. Her hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with a certainty that makes your heart stutter.

You could kiss her. You should kiss her. Everything in you is screaming to close that final distance.

Instead, you step back.

The hurt that flashes across her face is gone so quickly you almost convince yourself you imagined it. Almost.

"I can't," you whisper, and the words taste like ash in your mouth. "Not like this."

"Like what?" Her voice is carefully neutral, but you can see her walls going up, brick by careful brick. "With me?"

"That's not—" You run a hand through your hair, frustrated. "You're upset about Charlotte, and the pizza guy, and—"

"Don't." She pulls her hand away, and the loss of contact feels like a physical ache. "Don't you dare try to explain away what just happened."

"I'm trying to protect—"

"Me?" She laughs, but it's a hollow sound that doesn't reach her eyes. "From what, exactly? From making my own decisions? From wanting something that apparently terrifies you?"

"That's not fair."

"No?" She takes a step back, and somehow that small distance feels like miles. "Then what is this, really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like you're the one with one foot out the door."

The words hit like a slap, echoing your earlier accusation back at you. "Tara—"

"You know what the worst part is?" She's gathering her things again, movements sharp and jerky. "For a second there, I actually thought… God, I'm such an idiot."

"You're not—"

"Save it." She's not looking at you anymore, focused intently on collecting her scattered belongings. "I get it, okay? You're not ready, or you're scared, or whatever excuse you want to use. But don't pretend this is about protecting me."

You want to stop her. Want to explain that you're terrified of ruining this, of losing her, of what happens when the Valentine's Day magic wears off and she realizes you're not worth all this trouble. Want to tell her that you've never been good at keeping the things you love.

Instead, you watch her shrug on her jacket, that stupid perfect skirt swishing with the movement.

"Tara, please—"

"I should go," she says, and her voice is steady even though her hands are shaking slightly. "Before I say something we'll both regret."

Dookie watches from his perch as she heads for the door, tail twitching like he's judging your life choices. You don't blame him.

She pauses at the threshold, one hand on the doorknob. For a moment, you think she might turn around, might give you another chance to fix this. But then her shoulders straighten, and you know what's coming before she says it.

"For the record?" Her voice is quiet but clear. "You're wrong. About everything"

The door closes behind her with a soft click that somehow sounds louder than a slam would have. You stand there in the silence, surrounded by half-eaten pizza and the lingering scent of her perfume, thinking about all the ways hearts break in horror movies versus real life.

-------

A/N: I feel like a cartoon villain. It's nice.

[embrosegraves]

ℙ𝕣𝕖-𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘

Oscar Piastri x Horner!Reader Where teams are announced, dinners are held and Oscar finds himself surrounded by people who are determined to help him on his way to greatness.

Warnings: As per, explicit language and grammatical errors. Adelaide Kane is used for one image depicting the reader.

Again, I plead that you ignore the dates on the tweets, the storyline is like 1-2 weeks behind present.

series masterlist | previous part | next part

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oscarpiastri dinner with the team (2nd 📸: yn.horner) tagged: gerihalliwellhorner, christianhorner, redbullracing

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gerihalliwellhorner It was a pleasure having you over ❤️ -> oscarpiastri The pleasure was mine, Mrs Horner -> gerihalliwellhorner Oh call me Geri, sweetheart! -> yn.horner or better yet! call her Mother Spice!!

fan1 his first team dinner 🥹🥹

fan2 forget abt dinner, oscar's outfit slayed 🔥 -> danielricciardo he called me an hour before dinner asking if the "fit was good enough" -> oscarpiastri It was a valid question and I was nervous! -> fan3 girl you won fan2

youtube.com/mattp1tommy Exclusive Interview with Oscar Piastri!

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yn.horner A lil bit of this, a lil bit of that (GP and I are the only ones who know how to cook 😭😭) tagged: danielricciardo, oscarpiastri, gplambiase, maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 Lies and slander, I know how to cook -> yn.horner you know how to make a sandwich at best -> danielricciardo she really came for your throat -> oscarpiastri you and I aren't any better danielricciardo -> danielricciardo why are you on her side??? -> yn.horner because he's actually using his brain

christianhorner All my adult-ish children in one place. Good. -> yn.horner now whyd you call us adult-ish?? 🤔 -> christianhorner You know why

fan1 they have matching hoodies- i'm not stable enough for this -> fan2 SAME 😭😭😭

fan3 what I wanna know is who was in that dogpile??? -> yn.horner On the bottom is gplambiase then its maxverstappen1 and danielricciardo -> fan4 where was oscarpiastri ?? -> oscarpiastri a safe distance away, i assure you

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I was originally gonna post this BEFORE the race but I completly forgot I was going to a music festival and I didn't end up getting home until 1 in the morning.

I woke up 30 minutes ago, quickly fixed some things with the texts and now I'm posting it. I still haven't watched the race, so I'm gonna go do that now and then I'll start planning for the next chapter

I hope you enjoyed!

likes replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

[coveofsecrets]

the platonic burning spice x child reader fiction WAS SO GOOD. maybe you could do a part 2 pls? you don't have to! 🤍

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

"𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗"

-> Platonic! Burning Spice Cookie x reader

-> Warnings: Spoilers for Beast Yeast chapter 6, mentions of major character death, mentions of death

-> Word count: 966

-> waaaahahahahhaaa thank youuuuu <<33!! Not gonna lie, this was super challenging to do! Figuring out what Burning Spice would do as a character, and also his dialogue, was super difficult, but really fun! I hope you enjoy, Anon! This fic is a direct part two to this, so to understand this fic, please read the other one!

─── ✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Whispers in cracked corridors.

Rumors within dusty floors.

Stories spun along the breeze.

“Have you heard about the child Lord Destroyer’s been keeping?” Purple tail swaying, brushing against the owner’s fur.

“Yes…” Tongue flickering between fangs. “I have, but nobody’s allowed to see them, not even the general.”

“Well, I’ve seen the thing once, through the crack of their room door.”

“Really? What did they look like?”

“Weak.” A grunt. “Puny. If not protected, they would not survive even a second in this land.”

“Impossible! Why would The Great Destroyer allow a weak thing in his temple? There must be something about that child, if he's keeping it.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, too! Our lord prohibits any sort of interaction with that weakling, keeping them barred in there like a princess, so why does he have something like that?”

“Hmph. I’m not sure. Possibly untapped potential?”

“Plausible, but Lord Destroyer is not the kind of beast to recruit somebody for that…”

Red paws tapping against the floor, followed by a bark, “Are you two questioning Our Lord’s choices?”

The two squeak, “G- General-!” 

“You both,” The Nutmeg Tiger growls, “I will not hear another word from either of you. The Great Destroyer’s thinking is something both of you cannot possibly comprehend, and for you to even try and grasp it is almost laughable. This could very well go for treason!”

“General, we weren’t meaning to go for treason-”

“Do not speak when you are spoken to, weakling!”

Purple mouth snaps shut, red eyes narrowing in almost defiance.

The tiger centaur pays no mind to it, instead choosing to continue. “Whatever Our Lord is doing, surely has reason behind it. I will not stand for you two questioning his divine plans. Is that clear?”

“Yes....” This time, the Cilantro Cobra speaks. “Our… apologies, general. We won’t do this next time…”

“Hmph.” A huff, “I hope you don’t. The Great Destroyer’s ideas are much greater than you lowlives.”

Burning Spice has no idea what he’s doing.

He should’ve killed you.

He should’ve crumbled your existence.

He should’ve laid waste to your form like he did before, once again leaving behind what he loved.

Yet, with his paranshu raised above his head, your eyes fearfully staring at the bright thing…

“Baba, baba!” 

He remembers those same eyes looking up at him, as if he had hung up the stars themselves; your sweet voice calling for him as your bare feet violently pad over to reach their father.

God.

He couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t do it.

Burning Spice couldn’t kill his child.

No matter how much he wanted to, his body could not follow his command.

So what does he do now?

Burning Spice cannot kill you, so perhaps he could kick you out of here?

No, the spice storms will tear you apart.

If he lets you wander, his troops will reave your being.

Why does he care so much?!

His head has this horrible ache from all this thinking, so to make the confusing part of his brain happy, and to make this pain disappear, he sends you away.

To be more specific, he locks you in a room to which only a few cooks can come in to place food far away from you. Now, some part of him will be content, and also, he can stop looking at your pathetic self.

It takes months before he’s able to face you again.

Months before the Beast has to stop facing the present, and turn back to the past.

“Child.” Water hitting the sandy floors, he speaks. “Are you bored?”

…huh?

Sitting in front of this unfamiliar man, to the question, you pause.

Months of being held captive, with nobody except your own thoughts to keep you company, and when your captor speaks to you, it’s… this?

“Excuse?” You cannot help but ask for clarification, wondering if somehow you misheard.

To your question, though, the Beast’s eyes twitch. “I asked-” The sand starting to dry out- “if you are bored, child.”

Bored?

You heard right, which… only confuses you further.

“I am… confused on what you mean?”

“Do you need entertainment?” The desert is no longer blessed by the gentle touch of the rain, but it is not angry. “I presume that sitting in a room with nothing but your thoughts to occupy yourself is boring.”

Why is he asking that?

If you need entertainment?

What’s his goal?

You decide to echo your thoughts: “Why… are you asking that-?”

Only to be met with a scowl, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth, the yellow things glinting off of the little light in the room. His eyes are narrowed, lashes blanketing red irises, barely concealing his fury. Soon, though, as if he saw something in your face, the creature forces his expression to flatten, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I would prefer-” he growls after a few seconds. “To not answer that question. All you need to know is if you’re bored. Is that clear?”

…huh… best not to press.

“Good. Now, answer my question: are you bored or not?”

“I… guess so, yes.”

Being stuck in a room for months on end, with nothing to do is not… fun, at all.

“Then what entertainment do you wish for?”

Entertainment?

You blink.

What entertainment is there? Actually, why is he asking if I must be entertained? Mm… I feel like I shouldn’t ask that.

“Conversation with you?” You eventually request, “I’d like to ask a few questions as to where I am.”

The beast’s nostrils flare, a corner of his lips twitching, but he acquiesces. “Alright. But if there is anything I do not wish to divulge, I shall not. Is that fair?”

Huh.

How easy.

Once again, you nod.

He's not being violent in me towards any way, and he hasn't made me do anything... if so, then why's he keeping me here against my will?

What does he want from you?

[chvoswxtch]

desire

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that the defenders of freedom had been caught, what's next for you and frank?

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol & grief, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 8.1k

a/n: the one you've all been waiting for. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Considering the fact that your place was still an active crime scene and Homeland still needed to track down the rest of Steven’s dipshit goons to ensure there would be no more threats or attacks, Dinah wanted to take you to a safe house until the investigation was finished.

Frank, however, was not having any of that shit.

It was admittedly an ego boost watching Dinah and Frank lock into a heated staring contest while arguing about who got protective custody of you, and definitely amusing. But eventually, she gave into the stubborn brick wall that was Frank Castle, threw her hands up in total exasperation that was followed by a colorful string of adjectives thrown his way, and that was how you found yourself once again on the road with Frank. 

Initially when you noticed that Frank was driving in the direction outside of the city, perplexment weaved between your brows, but he quickly set your curiosity straight as soon as he noticed it blanketing your features. He didn’t even give you a chance to voice your inquisitions before explaining that he was taking you somewhere safe that no one else knew about.

That knowledge filled you with a bubbling sense of giddiness because getting to stay with Frank at his apartment was one thing, but getting to stay with him in a place that sounded private and secluded? Yeah, that was more than okay with you. 

The longer Frank drove, the more drastic the scenery changed, passing by in a blurry film reel on the other side of the passenger window. The clamorous and bustling streets of the concrete city faded away slowly and soon settled into quiet black asphalt that shrank to one lane on either side of the road. The millions of inhabitants of New York City seemed to melt away into the horizon in the rear view mirror of Frank’s truck, leaving the two of you the only souls for miles. The trees became more and more dense, creating opaque patches of foliage in golden ochre, rusty ginger, and spiced cranberry. In that moment, sitting in the passenger seat was the most at peace you had felt in almost seven months since the whole had nightmare began, and a lot of that peace had everything to do with the man in the driver’s seat absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the Bruce Springsteen CD currently playing.

After about two hours of driving and light conversation, Frank turned off the asphalt road onto an unmarked dirt path, and you turned your head to stare over at him in half-hearted suspicion while lifting a brow in silent questioning.

“You know, if you kept me alive this long just to murder me in the middle of the woods, that’s some serious dedication.”

Without missing a beat, Frank let out a dry chuckle.

“If I was gonna kill ya, I woulda started switchin’ your coffee out with decaf a long time ago.”

It was always a struggle not to laugh at Frank’s dry sense of humor. You tried not to give him the satisfaction of your amusement, but you found yourself giving in more and more lately. Letting out an overly dramatic sharp gasp while staring at him in exaggerated faux horror, you reached over and lightly smacked your palm against his firm bicep. 

“That is the most evil form of torture I have ever heard.”

Frank snickered deviantly, clearly pleased with himself, and the relaxed grin on his soft lips was stretched so wide that his lifted cheeks caused his eyes to crinkle in delight. For a moment, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. It never failed to render you speechless just how much lighter Frank looked when he smiled. Happiness looked so achingly beautiful on him. Every time you silently observed him, you always learned something new about Frank. He had deep set creases softly feathering around the edges of his eye sockets, proof that Frank had once been a man that smiled and laughed as easily as he breathed. You sincerely hoped that version of him that he seemed to keep buried so deeply was steadily rising back to the surface, and that these ephemeral glimpses you got would soon become permanent.

The gilded stream of midday light cast a velvet glow on Frank’s softened features, leaving you so completely entranced that you hadn’t even noticed the lack of motion when he parked his truck. 

“We’re here.”

The gruff alert of Frank’s voice induced you out of your bewitchment, and it was then that you suddenly noticed the quaint one story cabin nestled a few feet away in front of you.

It was composed of wood in a rich shade of burnt umber, and topped with a forest green downward v-shaped roof. There were a few worn steps leading up to an enclosed porch that appeared to snugly wrap around the cabin entirely, and two large square glass windows on either side of the front door that was painted the same shade of green as the roof. The curtains were drawn so you couldn’t see inside, but from the outside it looked incredibly cozy.

When you got out of the car, you noticed there wasn’t anything around at all but thick woods, and you silently wondered just how far back they went. There didn’t appear to be anyone or anything around for miles, and the only sounds you could hear were birds chirping and the worn wooden steps creaking under the weight of Frank’s heavy black boots. 

“Wow. Billy offers one hell of a retirement plan.” 

Following up the steps behind Frank’s large frame, a glimpse of black flashed in your peripheral vision, and you noticed there were security cameras installed on the left and right corners of the roof, along with what looked to be several motion detector lights along the top perimeter. Knowing Frank, there were probably far more around the entire cabin, and probably even hidden in the trees as well.

Frank paused for a moment at your comment, his dark brown eyes glossing over your presence at his right before taking in the sight of his own cabin like it was the first time he had ever seen it. 

“Nah, s’just somethin’ I never got ‘round to finishin’ ‘til a few months ago. Almost forgot ‘bout it. It was s’posed to be a surprise project for my-” 

The second Frank cut himself off, his body language changed entirely. His relaxed posture instantly stiffened, causing him to stand rigidly at his full height while his shoulders squared to their broadened width. The former calm expression he wore turned to stone right before your very eyes and he clenched his jaw in such a harsh line you could hear his teeth grind. Frank was intensely staring directly through the small six panel window that was in the top middle of the front door, like there was something on the other side that only he could see. 

Before you could react, he abruptly unlocked the front door and pushed it open with his left hand, clearing his throat and vaguely gesturing with his index finger before turning away to descend the stairs without giving you so much as a second glance.

“I’ll uh get the bags. Room at the end of the hall on the right is yours.”

The haunted look in Frank’s eyes reminded you of the night of the gala when he had told you that he had lost his wife. It was almost the exact same one. The thought briefly crossed your mind that he meant to say it had been a surprise project for her, but you quickly put it to rest. Frank clearly didn’t want to elaborate on the subject, and you knew better than to push. The best thing to do was give him his space and let him come to you if he wanted to. Still, it didn’t stop the journalist in you from running wild with questions, and also filling you with a slight sense of guilt that you were about to share a space with Frank that was meant to be something sacred and special between him and his wife.

»»———　　———««

The room at the end of the hall ended up being the master bedroom, to which you protested heavily against taking, but ultimately ended up being an argument you lost because Frank played dirty and distracted you with the delectable scent of homemade pasta sauce and a wine glass that was filled to the brim with bubbly pink.

While you sat at the kitchen island and sipped at your now half empty glass, you studied Frank with a narrowed gaze. A part of you was annoyed with him and yourself at how easily you fell into the trap he set. He knew you well enough to know Italian food was your weakness and that you were more compliant after being fed. But a bigger part of you was completely mesmerized by the way he gracefully navigated the open kitchen. 

There was a furrow of concentration nestled between his thick brows while he precisely measured specific spices to add to the saucepan that was layered with ruby sauce that he had garnished with freshly cut oregano and parsley. On the far back left burner was a boiling pot of penne pasta, and in front of that was a skillet of ground meat Frank had added diced onion and garlic to along with several other seasonings. He shifted between each pan with a quiet elegance that captivated you, and simultaneously irritated you, because there didn’t seem to be a damn thing the man couldn’t do.

“So you’ve been a secret chef this entire time and didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Rolling your eyes at his quick retort, you cocked your head to the side slightly and focused on the way his back muscles strained against the fabric of the black henley he wore.

“I’m pretty sure I would’ve had an easier time getting nuclear launch codes from the Russian government than ever getting a straight answer out of you.”

Frank snorted at that, throwing you a quick humored glance over his broad shoulder.

“Hey, I give you answers.”

“Oh yeah, after nearly five months of stonewalling me. I didn’t even know what you did before becoming a bodyguard until you told me, what, a week and a half ago?”

Frank lifted one of his thick brows while turning his body slightly towards you.

“You never read my personnel file?”

Glancing down at your wine glass, you clicked your tongue against the inside of your cheek and gave a subtle shake of your head.

“Homeland wouldn’t let me have it.”

“And you let that stop you?”

There was a hint of tease in Frank’s deep voice, and you lifted your gaze to squint at him in annoyance noticing the cheeky smirk curling at the edge of his mouth.

“I’m a journalist, Frank. Not a hacker.”

“Ah, don’t give me that shit. That may be your job but it ain’t all you are. Besides, you’re a goddamn force to be reckoned with and a pain in the ass when you don’t get your way.”

A mischievous smirk slipped across your lips while you brought your glass up to your mouth, looking at Frank innocently over the rim.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Frank’s eyes seemed to wander over your face, stopping at the way the rim of the glass settled against your bottom lip, and when he met your eyes again, they were subtly darkened with that look that sent a tingle down your spine.

He silently stared at you for only a second longer before giving a slight nod, and you caught the wry smile slipping over his lips as he turned back to face the stove.

“Whatever ya say, sweetheart.”

You weren’t exactly sure what the source was of the heat you currently felt blooming in your cheeks: the wine you had consumed, the aroma of the fresh chili pepper Frank had just added to the sauce, or the way he had just looked at you.

Attempting to redirect your impure thoughts before the liquid courage could make you bold enough to voice them, you looked for something to distract yourself with. With your chin in your palm, you glanced down at the rouge tinted liquid and lazily swished it around in your wine glass. A thought quickly popped into your head that caused you to let out a soft snort.

“I didn’t take you as a rosé guy.”

Frank adjusted the heat on the sauce to a low simmer before turning to face you fully, wiping his large hands off on a sage green rag before tossing it over his right shoulder. He took a step over towards the island you were sitting at and wrapped his long fingers around his own wine glass, which looked ludicrously tiny in his hand, and took a long purposeful swig before licking his lips and arching one of his dark brows. 

“What? This is good shit.”

Reaching for the half empty bottle sitting on the island, you let out a soft laugh and went in for a refill. The relaxing effects of the wine had clearly already reached your brain, and before it could catch up with your mouth, you blurted out your next question like it couldn’t possibly ruin the mood.

“Was this your wife’s favorite?”

Frank didn’t clam up like you had expected given his behavior earlier. Instead, he glanced down at the glass in his hand for a moment before shaking his head with a tiny smile gracing the curve of his lips.

“Nah, friend of mine’s wife got me into this stuff.”

Frank took a moment to stare down into the glass, as if there was a fond memory appearing in the bubbles. Clearing his throat, he took another large swig of the wine and set the nearly empty glass down on the island.

“She uh…she liked white wine.”

For some reason, Frank’s casual admission sent a flush of velour warmth through you. Whatever barrier that had prevented Frank from speaking freely earlier seemed to be somewhat dismantled, and this was the first time he had ever spoken voluntarily about his wife that hadn’t left a heavy fog of grief lingering over either of you. A tender smile stretched across your lips as you lifted your glass up in a silent toast.

“My kinda woman. What was her favorite?”

Frank leaned over the island on his elbows, holding the delicate glass in both of his strong hands. The amber lighting in the kitchen made his eyes look like swirls of melted chocolate, and you resisted the urge to lean in closer when he finally looked at you with a faint smile tugging at the left edge of his mouth.

“Pinot Grigio.”

A huge grin stretched across your lips at his answer, and you shook your head faintly as you light heartedly pointed your right index finger towards Frank and lifted your glass to your lips.

“Oh I bet I could’ve easily converted her to a sauvignon blanc girl. There’s this brand from Chile that makes the best blanc, and she would’ve loved it.”

For a moment Frank simply observed you in silent fondness. When you set your glass down, his eyes flickered to his own, and he made a quiet noise of recognition in his throat before speaking quietly.

“She woulda liked you.”

That single sentiment held more weight and significant meaning to you than anything anyone else had ever said to you. A tight lump formed in your throat as those words echoed in your head, and you felt the overwhelming urge to make this intimate moment just as special for Frank, but with the alcohol in your system you couldn’t convey your feelings as eloquently.

“My mom would’ve annoyed you.”

Frank immediately started howling with laughter, turning his head to look at you with squinted eyes in incredulous amusement.

“What?”

“I mean she would have loved you, no doubt about that, but she probably would’ve annoyed you. And definitely hit on you. She was like me, only she had way less of a filter and absolutely zero shame. I think my being nosey and stubborn was genetic, but she took it to a whole other level. Did you know I used to be really quiet?”

Frank’s thick brows lifted in surprise, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. The rosé was acting as a truth serum, and you couldn’t stop yourself from rambling.

“I was. I was very quiet, and extremely cautious, compliments of my careless mother. She wasn’t really careless, I mean she loved me, she was just a bit reckless, but not in a bad way. Like not a I-need-therapy-for-the-rest-of-my-life way but more of a she-had-me-at-sixteen-and-we-grew-up-together way. You know that I was such a bookworm that she practically begged me to be rebellious and hang out with someone other than her or the local librarian? And she’s the whole reason I wanted to go to Columbia, because she wanted to go to Columbia, but you can’t go to Columbia with a baby and no high school degree, and I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, and I probably should have shut up ten minutes ago, but anyway my mom would’ve liked you but definitely annoyed you more than me.”

Those newfound beloved crinkles were once again decorating Frank’s eyes as he chuckled heartily at your rambling. He downed the rest of his own wine before setting the empty glass down, flashing you a crooked grin as he loosely gestured in your direction with his chin.

“I’m sure I woulda liked Lorelai just as much as I do you.”

There was a skip in your heart’s rhythm, partly because he finally admitted that he liked you as a person, but more so when you realized that Frank remembered your mother’s name. It tugged at your heartstrings, because it was such a simple gesture, but also because it reminded you just how much you missed your mother. 

“I forget sometimes.”

Frank tilted his head to the side slightly when your soft voice settled in the space between the two of you, and his playful grin slowly vanished as he watched while you stared blankly down into your glass, clearly lost in your own thoughts.

“Forget what?”

“That she’s gone.”

There was a slight tremble to your voice as you looked up at Frank with a miniscule sad smile. The empathy in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and you had to look away to keep your composure from crumbling. Turning your head to the left, you took a moment to observe the layout and minimalist decor in the kitchen while letting out a shaky exhale.

“Sometimes I go to call her…just…on my way home from work, you know? Just to talk to her, hear the latest small town gossip, tell her about the latest coffee shop I’ve found that she absolutely has to try when she comes to visit next. There’s even been times I’ve left her voicemails. I’ll be so wrapped up in something and wanna vent to her, and then I’ll start to wonder why she hasn’t called back yet, and then it’ll just…hit me.”

Frank stayed quiet while he listened sympathetically, and the entire cabin was silent apart from the quiet sizzling coming from the stovetop until you gently spoke up again.

“Do you forget too?”

Finally looking over at Frank again, you watched as he lighty dragged his palm down the lower half of his face. While he glanced down at the smooth mahogany countertop, he clasped his large hands together while still resting on his elbows.

“I don’t forget she’s gone, but I uh…I’ve started forgettin’ things. I can’t remember what her perfume smelled like…or what her favorite song was. I can hear it sometimes, ya’know? Every now and then I get these…bits and pieces. Sometimes I can hear her hummin’ it in the kitchen, but it ain’t long enough to remember what song it was, ya’know? Everythin’ started gettin’ fuzzy…and I remember more things I wanna forget than things I actually wanna remember.”

There was a stretch of silence where neither of you spoke. Eventually, Frank straightened up and turned his back to you to walk back over towards the stove. Even though you knew it might not be the right time to ask, there was a question that had been burning in the back of your mind since the night of the gala.

“Frank?”

He hummed quietly in response, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder as he gave you his full attention.

“What was her name?”

The softness of your question clearly caught him off guard, and you could see the hesitation lingering in Frank’s eyes. Worried that you had crossed the line and completely ruined the moment, you were about to hastily backtrack and tell him that he didn’t have to answer when Frank let out a deep exhale through his large nose, touching his index and middle finger over his chest most likely where his wedding band sat beneath his shirt.

“Maria.”

A minuscule smile covered the edge of your mouth as you tilted your head slightly to the side and tried out her name on your tongue.

“Maria. Is this her recipe?”

Frank's eyes flickered over towards the pans and the pot of boiling pasta that were still on the stove. After a moment, he nodded his head and turned his attention back to you with a tender look in his eyes.

“Penne all'Arrabbiata con Manzo. Her grandmother was Sicilian, just like my parents were. She made this every time I came home from a tour.”

The significance and sentiment behind the recipe Frank was cooking made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your ribcage. Quickly topping off Frank’s empty glass with more wine, you carefully got down from the bar stool that you were sitting on and rounded the island to make your way over to Frank. As you offered him the half full glass of wine, Frank’s eyes flickered curiously between it and your own gaze while his large hand reached out to wrap his fingers around the glass. Smiling softly up at him, you lifted your own glass slightly in the air.

“Well then, to Maria.”

There was a sudden luminescence to Frank’s warm brown eyes, but you didn’t get a chance to study it long before he nodded slightly and his lips stretched faintly into a tiny smile as he delicately clinked his glass against yours and repeated your toast in a more delicate volume of his deep voice.

“To Maria.”

»»———　　———««

“You’re fired.”

Hearty laughter boomed from deep within Frank’s chest and echoed over the crackling firewood currently blazing. He adjusted his position on the couch a few inches away from you, his features highlighted due to the radiant flames cascading from the fireplace in a contorted expression of skepticism and entertainment.

“What? Why?”

“I have known you for seven months, Castle. Seven. Months. And I’m just now finding out you have the culinary skills of a five star chef. Unacceptable. Unforgivable. I’m calling Billy first thing in the morning.”

You couldn’t hardly get through your own sentence without bursting into a fit of laughter, and Frank was in no better shape as he threw his head back against the couch and clutched at his chest with his hand that wasn’t holding his third glass of wine. There were nearly three empty bottles between the two of you forgotten on the dining table, and this was the most loose you had ever seen Frank. Maybe you should get him tipsy more often.

“You can’t fire me.”

“And why not?”

“Cause I ain’t assigned to you no more, brat.”

While Frank teased you nonchalantly as he sipped at his glass and watched the flames dance across the firewood, his words instantly sobered you up. He was right. The Defenders of Freedom had been caught, Steven was facing trial, and there was no reason for Frank to stick around anymore. It was a revelation you had been trying to ignore for the past twenty-four hours. A wave of uncertainty crashed over you in that moment. What would happen between you and Frank? When would he get assigned to someone else? Would that take him far away from you? How long could you stay in this little bubble outside reality?

Glancing down at the wounds in your palm that had steadily begun to heal, you lightly traced your thumb over the raised irritated edges as a thought suddenly flashed across your mind.

“I never thanked you.”

Even though your voice was barely above a whisper, Frank caught it, and he turned his head to look at you intently with slightly confused brows.

“For what?”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you shook your head faintly before looking back at Frank with subtle remorse.

“For everything you’ve done for me. For saving my life, more than once, and-”

Frank instantly brushed off your gratitude with a shake of his own head, reaching over to place his glass of wine on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“It’s my job-”

“No. Your job was to keep me safe, but you did so much more than that. You dealt with all of my shit, fixed every problem I created, and even when Homeland pulled you away, you still showed up for me. Frank, I would be dead if it wasn’t for you. You saved me from those guys at the bar, you saved me from Cavella and Walker, and…you’re still saving me, even now. I could’ve gone to a safe house with Dinah, but you brought me here, even though I’m not your problem anymore-”

Frank reached for your glass of wine and firmly set it on the coffee table, effectively catching your attention while he started almost directly into your soul with a serious expression.

“Hey, you have never been a problem. Ever. You got that?”

There were so many emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for seven months that you hadn’t been processing, and now they seemed to be rising to a level you could no longer ignore. The verity in Frank’s voice nearly had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you just wanted answers. Why did he care so much? Why was he still protecting you? Why were you here right now?

“Frank…you could’ve walked away. There were so many times you could’ve walked away. Why…why did you stay?”

A substantial weight felt like it had finally been lifted off your chest as you asked the one question that had been lingering in your bones for weeks now. Although that weight was replaced by a lead filled sense of dread while you waited with anxious anticipation for a response, knowing was better than not knowing. 

Frank’s deep brown eyes stared so fiercely into your own, that you felt vulnerably stripped bare despite the clothing covering your body. When he reached his left hand over to place on your jean clad thigh, he grasped it firmly and leaned in just close enough so that you couldn’t escape the enrapture of his gaze.

“I want you to listen to me, right now. I’m always gonna keep you safe, you got that? Job or no job.”

The intensity burning in his eyes and the dropped octave of his rough voice nearly stunned you silent. Your lips parted slightly as if to speak, but your fogged brain struggled to form a coherent sentence. This was the closest you had been to Frank since you had climbed onto his lap in his truck, and you were fighting so hard to not let history repeat itself. But that look…that one goddamn look you could never decipher was roaring fervently in his gaze again, and you were going absolutely mad not knowing what it meant.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you found yourself leaning in closer, staring deeply into Frank’s warm brown eyes with a pleading look reflected in your own desperate stare. You wanted to know why. You needed to know why. And you were begging Frank for a confession that wasn’t encrypted.

“Why?”

“Because you’re mine to protect.”

The possessiveness that dripped from Frank’s low voice had you abruptly clenching your thighs together, trapping his thick fingers between your weakened knees. If he minded the entrapment at all, he didn’t show it. The blaze of the fireplace was no longer what had the temperature steadily rising within your body, and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Frank’s vigorous and unwavering stare. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and even though you had a million questions clamoring through your brain, all you could manage to get out in a hoarse whisper was one you needed confirmation on.

“I am?”

Frank retracted his large hand from your thigh, raising it up slowly to carefully grab your face. A few of his long fingers curled around the back of your neck while his index and middle finger rested along the underside of your jaw, and his thumb pressed lightly against your chin. His heated gaze dropped to your lips momentarily before flickering back up to meet your eyes, and that fire in them was burning bright enough for God herself to see.

“You’re goddamn right.”

Without another word, Frank pulled you in for a searing kiss, pressing his soft lips against yours tentatively but with enough passion to make his answer crystal clear. A delicate noise of surprise sounded in the back of your throat, and for a moment you nearly stopped breathing. If that first kiss in Frank’s truck was a rare comet bursting across the sky, this one felt like a supernova erupting in a kaleidoscope of colors and stardust exploding across the expanse of the universe.

Even as he retracted his lips just a bit to stare deeply into your eyes to gauge your reaction, his hand gently cradling your face kept you firmly in place. All you could do was stare at Frank in complete stupefaction. Your lips were fervently tingling and your body felt like it had been struck by lightning. Frank’s eyes were searching yours for an answer he seemed to desperately need judging by the way his other hand lightly squeezed at your waist.

“If I’m crossin’ a line, you gotta tell me now. Cause I can’t go back, sweetheart.”

The tender emotion entwined within his words nearly made it sound like Frank was begging for your answer, and suddenly it all clicked. You could never figure it out before, but now as you stared at him in complete wonder and paid close attention to his display of vulnerability, you were finally able to decode that cryptic look in Frank’s eyes.

Desire.

“I don’t wanna go back.”

That breathless confession was all Frank needed, and he seemed to groan in relief when you surged forward to capture his lips with renewed vigor. Frank was so much more engaged in this kiss, and you took that as a good sign to give in to every single temptation. Before you could even think about climbing onto his lap, Frank was three steps ahead of you, and his large hands were firmly gripping onto your hips and effortlessly pulling you over to straddle his hips. Frank’s hands were everywhere; kneading at your denim covered thighs, gripping tightly onto your waist, carding his fingers through your hair and grasping at the back of your head to keep you as close as physically possible.

You cupped his face firmly in your hands and seductively swiped your tongue along his bottom lip begging for entrance, causing a low growl to resonate from deep within Frank’s chest, and his large hands suddenly squeezed your ass tightly through your jeans while you moaned when his taste met your tongue. The taste of Frank was much sharper this time, and you felt far more intoxicated by him than the three bottles of wine the two of you had consumed together.

Even with your chest pressed firmly against his own, it felt like you couldn’t physically be close enough. You wanted to be entirely consumed by Frank, to completely melt into the warmth of his skin and breathe his essence into your lungs. The synchronization of your lips and tongues molding together was impeccable, and the world outside ceased to exist while the two of you began to unravel one another.

An overwhelming surge of impatience had you nearly shredding his black henley with your nails while you fervently shoved it up his toned chest, eagerly caressing the scarred canvas of his tan skin with your fingertips like you had been daydreaming about doing since that night in the motel. He didn’t hesitate to teasingly brush his thumbs along the sliver of exposed skin above your hips before pushing your shirt up your waist and over your head. While you tore it off quickly and carelessly discarded it behind you, Frank dove in to attach his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, dragging his warm and wet tongue along the column of it before gently biting down on the juncture above your collarbone.

A soft moan slipped past your lips and you instinctively rocked your hips against Frank’s lap, coaxing a deep grunt from his chest. He left a searing trail of kisses along your shoulder, the rough pads of his fingers softly tugging the straps of your bra down your arms before splaying both of his large hands against your lower back to pull you further against his own chest. Frank nuzzled his large nose along your neck and whispered huskily into your ear.

“This alright?”

“Yes.”

Unfiltered lust clouded your vision a deep shade of crimson, and you blindly clawed at Frank’s belt while he continued his blazing path of kisses along your jawline and down your neck towards your chest. All of a sudden, his large hands clasped around your wrists gently to halt your movements, and he pulled back a bit to stare deeply into your eyes while panting slightly.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t no rush.”

“Frank, please.”

The desperate plea that sounded from your lips seemed to ignite a brand new fire within Frank, and your consent shredded that last strand of hesitation that was holding him back. He placed his large hands against your ass and lifted you effortlessly in the air, and you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. Frank easily navigated around the coffee table and slowly knelt down on the fluffy cream colored rug in front of the fireplace, carefully laying you down onto your back. This time when you tugged the leather of his belt away from the buckle, he didn’t stop you, and instead his own deft fingers made lightning work in ridding you of your own jeans.

Slipping one of his hands underneath your back, he easily unhooked your bra with his thumb and index finger, and the second your bare chest was exposed to him, Frank firmly grasped one of your breasts in his calloused hand and took your peaked nipple into his mouth. Your lips parted widely feeling the jolt of pleasure that had you arching your back slightly when he swirled his warm tongue around the sensitive and stiff bud while gently sinking his teeth into the flesh of your breast. 

The sensation elicited a series of breathless whimpers to leave your mouth, and Frank grunted lowly in response as you rolled your hips upwards in search of friction, feeling the heavy heat of his hardened cock against your lower stomach through the thin cotton of his briefs. It was a marvel you hadn’t flooded the cabin with how turned on you currently were, and this wasn’t even scratching the surface of what Frank was going to do to you. You gripped at his bulging biceps, his broad shoulders, dark tufts of his disheveled hair, anything you could get your hands on to keep him close to you. 

Frank began to slowly descend your body, placing his hands firmly on your sides while leaving warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your stomach, even licking a teasing bold stripe above your belly button. The sight alone nearly made your eyes roll into the back of your head and caused you to whine softly, knowing exactly where his next destination was. But as much as you wanted to have Frank’s mouth on you, and God did you want it, you weren’t sure you could stand another second of not knowing what it felt like to have him inside you.

After he slipped your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, you gave his messy cropped curls a gentle tug to get his attention before he could spread your thighs and settle his broad shoulders between the apex of them. Frank glanced up to meet your gaze, his warm brown eyes nearly as black as the coffee he’d consumed this morning due to how wide his pupils were blown open. The hunger eclipsing them caused you to shudder, and you took a mental image of the sight of him nearly naked between your thighs staring at you like a ravenous wolf salivating at the sight of a vulnerable lamb.

“Please, Frank…I need you. I wanna feel you now…please.”

The two of you seemed to be stuck in the same conundrum, caught in tandem between wanting to savor the moment you had both waited so long for, and also wanting to give into the impulses of your magnetizing desire.

As much as you could see in his hungry expression that he wanted to take his time, to devour you slowly and worship every inch of you, the distress dripping from your breathless plea triggered his own raging need, and he silently obeyed while moving upwards again to hover over your body, capturing your lips in a deeply passionate kiss while you ardently pushed his briefs down his hips and off completely. Frank settled between your hips, displacing his heavy body weight by supporting himself on his forearms that were locked on either side of your head. You were completely caged in and at his mercy beneath him, but that was exactly where you wanted to be. 

Frank searched your gaze ardently once again for any sign of hesitation, his dark eyes roaming up and down your face before his tongue quickly darted out to wet his lips.

“We can call it here, ya’know? No hard feelin’s. I can-”

Reaching a hand up to gently hold the side of his face, you placed your thumb against his plump lips to cut off the velvet timbre of his whisper.

“Frank, I want this. I want you. But if you don’t-”

“I do. You got no idea how much I do. But…I want it to be right, yeah?”

A gentle smile covered your lips while gazing up at him in complete adoration.

“Doesn’t this feel right?”

Frank’s eyes flickered between your own and he subtly nodded his head, glancing down at your lips briefly before looking directly into your eyes again.

“Yeah…yeah it does.”

Frank leaned in to capture your lips in a sensual kiss, and the second he nudged the blunt head of his thick cock within your entrance, a sharp gasp flew past your lips and it felt like all the wind had been knocked right out of your lungs. He groaned quietly and nuzzled his large nose against the column of your neck, firmly grasping at your thigh and pulling your leg up and around his waist while he pushed in deeper slowly, one inch at a time.

While your nails instinctively dug fiercely into the muscle of his shoulders, no doubt leaving deep maroon crescent shaped indentations behind, Frank paused for a moment and snaked his hand down between your bodies, lightly brushing the rough pad of his thumb in lazy circles over your clit to help your body relax. You had been soaked through your panties from the moment your lips met, but Frank’s girth wasn’t one your walls had accommodated before, and he did his best to ease the sting of the burning stretch with stimulated pleasure.

“Frank…”

As soon as your hips connected completely and Frank was fully nestled within your tight heat, your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head, and your jaw became completely unhinged as you let out a smooth legato moan. You felt Frank’s body tense above you while he buried his face into your neck, letting out a quiet hiss as he breathed out a shaky deep exhale.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart.”

“Oh my God…Frank-”

“I know baby, I know. Gimme a second.”

You don’t know how long it was before Frank finally started moving his hips. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. All you knew was that you had never felt so full and so complete in your entire life. 

Letting out a quiet shudder, Frank slowly retracted his hips just a bit before cresting against you once again like a gentle tide. He removed his face from your neck so he could stare down into your eyes to watch your face, and you gazed up at him with wide-eyed passion and marvel. You brought your other leg up to also wrap around his waist and wrapped your arms securely around his neck, trapping Frank against your body just as much as you were beneath his. 

Frank reached between your chests with his right hand and gripped his wedding band between his thumb and index finger, tossing it and the chain over his back so there was nothing separating the two of you, just his heated skin pressed firmly against yours. Bringing your hands upwards, your trembling fingers weaved through his hair, tugging somewhat roughly at the messy cropped dark strands on top of his head when he began to languidly increase his pace.

It was like you couldn’t speak. Your mouth hung open while you stared up into Frank’s warm brown eyes that seemed to gleam from the amber glow of the fire, but nothing came out except echoes of the pleasure he handcrafted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, watching in awe as his plump lips parted from panting heavily, his eyes becoming hooded from streams of ecstasy racing through his bloodstream. He gazed down into your eyes in complete adoration, gently stroking his index and middle finger down your cheekbone delicately as you stared up at him with parted lips and pleading eyes. 

Frank brought his left hand up to gently brush your hair away from your forehead, cradling the back of your head while his right one came up once again to gently grab your face. Although this time, his index finger rested along your jawline while his thumb and other fingers laced around your throat carefully, which nearly sent you into a frenzy. He leaned in to teasingly slip his tongue into your mouth, kissing you with such ferocity as if he craved the very breath in your lungs.

Frank vacillated his hips repeatedly against your own in a steady rhythm, but with a meticulous precision that revealed new depths with your body even you weren’t aware of. Every sensual thrust wound that tense coil within you tighter and tighter, and it was only a matter of time before you erupted into gratified pieces of confetti. Reaching a shaky hand up to grip onto the back of his neck, your fingertips vibrated as they brushed over the close shaven hair on the back of his head, and you pulled him down forcefully for another deeply passionate kiss. 

Only when your lungs began to burn due to lack of oxygen did you finally break apart. He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, gazing so deeply into your eyes you swore he could see right into your soul. You stared back up into Frank’s eyes as yours became glossy due to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure you were experiencing. His coarse grunts and reverberating groans echoing in your ears had your toes curling, and as your mouth hung open in silent begging, you nodded swiftly with an expression that let Frank know you felt it too.

“Please…please…”

That familiar bubble of euphoria was starting to expand wider and wider within your lower belly and you weren’t sure how much longer you had before it burst. The way Frank fit perfectly within your body was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, and you were stuck on the cusp of never wanting it to end, but also wanting to see just how far it could go. You had never been with someone that seemed to be so finely in tune with your body, or that genuinely cared about your satisfaction, but Frank was treating your pussy as if he had designed it specifically for himself. The realization of knowing you wouldn’t have to finish yourself off later like you had to with your exes was a welcomed relief, but not knowing what brink of indulgence Frank was about to catapult you over was exhilarating. 

“Frank…Frank…”

“S’alright, baby, I know. Let me have it, yeah? C’mon baby, let go for me.”

A soft whimper slipped past your lips. You were so close, and God you wanted so badly to jump head first into the free fall. But a tiny part of you felt frustrated because you wanted to witness Frank free fall too. You wanted to see him let go, hear his praises of your name, and be coherent enough to feel Frank lose himself.

But you would have to wait your turn, because Frank was sending you barreling towards the edge of an orgasm with every punctual and powerful snap of his hips, and you had no choice but to surrender to the heat of his body enveloping yours in a cocoon of pure warmth and safety. 

Frank grabbed both of your smaller hands and laced your fingers together, giving them a tight squeeze as a tangible reminder he was right there with you. He pinned them gently on the soft rug above your head, his pace becoming a bit sloppy as he began to lose his own composure. 

“Look at me, sweetheart. Let me see them pretty eyes, c’mon. Let me see ‘em.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open until you physically couldn’t, wanting to witness every second of Frank’s own impending climax contorting his features as he fought to control himself until you were ready to let go. 

“There ya go, attagirl. Let go for me, sweetheart. S’alright, let me have it, yeah?”

A symphony of his name played from your lips at a steady crescendo until it filled the entirety of the cabin, and all at once a flash of white exploded behind your eyes as you free fell through space and time, floating in a cloud composed of Frank’s honeyed praises of your name and delicate sweet nothings. You’d given yourself powerful orgasms before but you had never felt something so intense as the delectation Frank created. It felt like you were floating between the astral space between Heaven and Earth, and you weren’t sure you could find your way back to your physical body again.

There was a faint amber glow flickering across your closed lids, and as you slipped in and out of coherence, you felt soft lips delicately pressing against your forehead and the edge of rough fingers gently stroking along your cheekbone lovingly. You didn’t want to move, you weren’t even sure if you could, but there was one thing you did want.

“Frank?”

The voice that resonated in your ears was fuzzy and distant, and it didn’t even sound like it belonged to you. A strong pair of arms wrapped securely around you, pulling you in from your stranded orbit closer towards where you were meant to be, and Frank’s soothing gruff voice quietly dripped a sacred promise into your ear.

“M’here.”

The hypnotic lullaby of his heart’s rhythm tethered you back to the dreamlike reality of Frank holding you against his chest, and that was all you needed to slip away under the blanket of stars that were dancing behind your eyes.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[heroesrest64]

Haunting Heroes

Other parts: 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Story summary: You find a great house at an absolute steal of a price. The only problem? Your house is probably most definitely haunted.

Chapter 1: Moving In

Chapter summary: either your family is going out of their way to prank you, or you have a ghost problem.

You can read the chapter here on ao3

Chapter under the cut :)

A list of temporary nicknames for the boys (why do I do this to myself TT)

Hyrule Warriors Link/ Warriors: Vanity

Alttp Link/ Legend: Whisper

BotW Link/ Wild: Spice

You really should’ve asked more about the history of this place before moving in.

It’s not your fault, really! The place was at a price you couldn’t beat, came with all of the bells and whistles, in a safe neighborhood not too far from your boring office job. Really, it was like all of the stars aligned.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t be so simple. A house doesn’t come so cheap for no reason. Usually, it means something is seriously wrong with it and it’s going to fall down in a couple months, or it’s haunted.

It turns out your situation is the latter.

In your defence, it wasn’t obvious for about a week. Just little things- puddles in the bathroom you didn’t remember making, spices moved to unusual places, clocks not set to the correct times. All easily explainable- you aren’t the most organized person, so any number of things could be explained away by your own forgetfulness.

You should’ve seen the writing on the wall.

Literally, you should’ve seen the writing on the wall. Or, the bathroom mirror, you suppose.

“Welcome.” You read aloud, squinting at the message written in big, loopy letters on your fogged up mirror. That’s not ominous at all.

Now, you could read into this two ways. One- you’re being pranked, which is impossible because you’re severely lacking in the friend department and your family lives way too far away to come out for a simple prank visit. Or two- a ghost wrote on your mirror and is probably gonna jump scare you right now.

What are you supposed to do in this sort of situation? Call a priest? Ignore it? Cry??

You choose the second option because ignoring your problems has never gotten you in any sort of trouble and always works.

You go about your days, ignoring the animals in your backyard staring you down with too-intelligent eyes, the flickering lights, the chills that sometimes follow you from room to room.

It’s like you’re living in a low-stakes horror movie. Nothing ever really happens, whatever’s haunting you doesn’t seem keen to interact with you directly, other than occasionally changing up your spice selection or writing short notes on your mirrors.

It’s all becomes so mundane, in fact, that you kind of start to… enjoy the company?

Look. You don’t have a lot of friends, and your family doesn’t live close enough for you to visit or vice versa. It may sound a little sad, but can anyone really blame you for wanting to befriend your roommates, no matter how questionable their very existence is?

So you may or may not begin trying option four- interacting with the ghost in your house. You vocally thank no one in particular when a spice is positioned for you to use, you start reading off what’s on your phone when that cold chill looms over your shoulder, you call out for the voices to go to bed when they start whispering around 3 in the morning.

At a certain point, you realize you have more than one housemate. You’re pretty sure there’s at least three, but there might be more.

You’ve started calling them by nicknames, too, just to differentiate them. Whisper is the ghost that speaks at night. They’re not very chatty, and immediately shut up when they realize you’re not sleeping. You don’t think they’re shy though, as they respond in a snarky rendition of your sisters voice when they do talk back to you.

Next is Spice. They’re the ghost who seems tied down to your kitchen, and might be responsible for all of the stuff that moves around in there. You think they might be the one resetting your clocks and rattling your pipes, but you aren’t sure.

There’s also Vanity, they’re the one who talks to you through fogged up mirrors. They’re pretty huffy at you, probably realizing you ignored their welcome, but they’re also the most chatty, and you guys spend a couple minutes after your showers just trying to talk, although you don’t tend to get very far before the fog fades away.

So, there’s at least three specters, but that still leaves a few unexplained phenomena. The cold chills following you around, the flickering lights, the weird dreams that sometimes wake you up kicking and screaming. You don’t know if any of the ghosts you know exist are capable of doing those things, so you plan to ask.

“Hey Vanity? How many of you guys are there?” You ask, rubbing your hair dry with a towel. The ghost is pretty funny in your opinion- they don’t talk to you in the mirror unless you’re completely dressed.

‘9’ the loopy writing of the mirror ghost appears. You almost pissed yourself the first time it happened, but you’re pretty used to it now.

“Wait, really? I thought there were only three of you.” You admit. The ghost doesn’t respond for a second before, very slowly, an arrow takes form. It points down, at the sink in front of you that suddenly begins dripping water.

You’re a big enough person to admit you screamed. What were you supposed to do, just stare at the faucet (which hadn’t even turned on- water just decided to start coming out of it) and decide that it was a completely normal thing to see?

“What the fuck!” You shout, raising your hands defensively. The water stops, and you stare your sink down suspiciously like it might start spraying water again.

‘Stop. Follow him.’ The note on your mirror appears in the fading steam, and you can’t even begin to puzzle out the meaning before the sound of dripping water begins, and you look at where it’s coming from to find a small puddle on the floor.

A few seconds later, another puddle forms, then another, and another, slowly creating a path outside of your bathroom and down the hall.

“Oh my gosh, I’m about to go on a ghost hunt.” You whisper to yourself, slowly following the footprints further into your house.

[deviouz]

Im in a fluffy mood so uh: jason and reader are kissing but reader has long hair thats getting in their way so reader rears backs to get that bullshit out of the way but is struggling without a hairtie. At first jason's trying not to laugh but eventually grabs a hairtie and helps reader tie the hair back and more fluff ensues.

Yeah i almost tried for spice but all i got was domestic fluff so have this instead lol

ohhh this is just too sweet ):

i’d like to imagine that it becomes something of a comforting ritual for both jason and his partner. him coming home from patrol, covered in blood and body still on edge from exerting himself too much. you’re worried sick because it’s the fifth night in a row where he’s come stumbling back at the crack of dawn and doing his damned best to hide the subtle wince with every step he takes, heavy boots weighing him down like cinderblocks wading through water.

after you’ve given him the signature ‘really?’ look, you’re helping him to the shower and tossing some pajamas and a towel in the dryer for when he gets out because you know what gotham’s everlasting rain can do to a person.

and once you’re in bed, head nestled against his chest and ear laid over where his heart is, you finally allow yourself to relax.

“so… how was your day?”

“jay, i don’t really think that’s the most appropriate conversation starter.”

he heaved a sigh, guilty as ever, and trails gentle fingertips along your spine. his touch was simple yet impactful, and it worked wonders on the anxiety plaguing your weary mind.

“i know, sweetheart, really. i just… i dunno. city’s not safe enough yet. i can’t stop until it is.”

his touch trails up a bit higher, working past your shoulders and up the nape of your neck until they finally begin to work along your scalp with a perfected graze.

“and you didn’t have to wait up. y’know i don’t like you staying up so late — you have to sleep sometime.”

you peer up at him with a bittersweet smile. “i’m always gonna wait up for you.”

jason presses a loving kiss to your forehead, eyes gleaming with nothing but pure adoration. “you’re everything i’ve ever dreamed of and more. i hope you know that.”

there was no way in hell you were going to tear up this late at night. though, you supposed, it could be considered morning, given that it’s nearly four in the morning.

you opted to deflect.

“shut up.”

“whatever you say, angel.”

his fingers began to work through your hair, carefully easing the knots out and allowing you to cling to him a little tighter. maybe you’d ask him to brush it once the two of you had gotten enough sleep. maybe you’d perch yourself upon the barstool at the kitchen island, book in hand as you read the next chapter of his newest read while he lost himself in your voice and the comforting mundanity that came along with a more domestic life. maybe then you’d be able to push aside the fact that your boyfriend was wanted dead by far more people than you’d like to imagine. maybe then you wouldn’t have to worry if one night you waited up just for him to never show up again.

“i love you, jay.”

“i love you too.”

i fear i may have went too angsty (i definitely did) so here are a few headcanons?? oops?? :D

i’d like to imagine that jason starts keeping a hair tie around his wrist just in case you ever need one. oh, is it hot out and you’ve forgotten to bring a clip to put your hair up with? don’t worry, jason’s already spinning you around and expertly tying your hair up like the good boyfriend he is.

oh, and he’s definitely gone down a rabbit hole on how best to care for your hair, no matter the length or hair type. he’ll be damned if can’t take care of you in every way imaginable.

playing and caring for your hair can be a bit of a grounding thing for the both of you. post-showers means he gets to tug you between his legs on the couch and get to work while you tell him about your day, gossip about whatever’s on your mind, or listen to him talk about his favorite books and why you should read them if you haven’t already.

jason also likes how easily he can get you to relax just by running the blunt of his nails along your scalp. you practically melt against him, and he has to mentally prevent himself from cooing out at you for the millionth time.

i lowkey hate this :D anon i am so sorry :D pls forgive me

[faithisyours]

Blanket Fort

Vi X Fem!Reader

Ch 3 of The List

Other chapters: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 4

Summary: you and Vi build a blanket fort

cw: pure, unadulterated fluff

word count: 1.4k

an: Howdy y'all! I humbly present chapter 3. Hope you enjoy it. Next chapter I'm gonna keep a surprise, but it includes some familiar faces ;) It also might take me a wee bit longer to write, but I’ll try to get it out within the week. And a big thanks again to my beta reader @mythsretriever, check her out, she’s pretty cool. Also, I’ve been requested to start a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added! And finally, if you have any requests for fics or ideas for this one, or just want to chat, I’m all ears! (Please, I want more friends on this app). Men & minors dni

The apartment windows rattled against the heavy rain and rolling thunder raging outside. Lightning lit up the stormy evening sky, casting flashes of light into the apartment. You and Vi were hauled up because of this, but it didn’t matter much to you. You were happy to be home with the love of your life for a night off.

You were in the kitchen making dinner (it was your turn), Vi sat watching you from the kitchen island. You were making soup, one of your specialties, because Vi was feeling a bit under the weather, having been fighting a small cold for the past couple days (more than likely caused by the fact that she had just been naked in a lake on a chilly fall night with you a little less than a week ago). You felt slightly guilty, considering you were the one that had taken her to go skinny dipping, as well as the fact that you had not gotten sick at all. You resolved to make her soup; it was the least you could do.

Vi was still keeping the list close, although she had shared some of her ideas and asked you for some more recently. It was a good thing, too, because you had started to think she was instead just writing a novel.

You were adding the last of the spices to the pot of soup in front of you when Vi asked, “Have you ever made a blanket fort?”

Caught slightly off guard, but recovering quickly you answered, “I have…”

“I know it’s not a very teenager thing to do, but I’ve never made one and I added it to the list a while ago,” she said, eying you hesitantly.

“... so you want to make a blanket fort?” you asked, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

“Ya, and I thought maybe today, since the weath-”

“Sold!” You cut her off.

“Dinner first, of course,” Vi reassured.

You shot her a smile over your shoulder. “Of course.”

You ate at the kitchen table, the soup being accompanied by garlic bread. Vi practically moaned around her fist bite, which made your insides feel fuzzy. You talked about upcoming plans, errands you both needed to run, shows you wanted to watch together; just mundane, domestic things. When you both were done eating, Vi helped you clean up the kitchen, growing more and more antsy by the second. She was practically jumping off the walls by the time you finished wiping the counter down.

“Hmm,” you looked around the kitchen, tapping your chin with your finger, “I feel like I forgot to do something.” Of course, you had forgotten nothing, and instead were prolonging Vi’s anticipation for your own enjoyment. She caught on when you couldn’t keep your sly smile contained.

“You forgot nothing, it’s blanket fort time!” she practically screamed. She grabbed you by the arm, pulling you towards the living room, but eventually stopped, realizing she didn’t actually know what she was doing. She looked around, looking a little hopeless, then turned her eyes on you. “Okay, tell me what we need,” she prompted, her hands open in front of her, ready to grab the first thing you say.

“Well, we’re gonna need blankets, sheets probably, the kitchen chairs, pillows, maybe some books, and the broom, probably.” She stared at you blankly for a second, processing, then leapt into action. Vi ran in the direction of the linen closet, so you went over to the kitchen to collect the chairs.

You were arranging the chairs in front of the couch, two on each side facing away from the space in the middle, when Vi came back with more than an armful of blankets and sheets. It looked as though she had ransacked the entire apartment, taking blankets from anywhere including your bed. You giggled at her overzealousness, and moved quickly to help take some of the blankets she had gathered.

“Looks like you found every blanket and sheet we own,” you said, amused. “That's good, though. We’ll probably need them all.” You set them down in a pile in front of the area you had designated to be the floor of the fort, which was in front of the couch and directly in line with the TV. Vi surveyed the space, nodding, then looked towards you for the next step. “Okay, first we should cover these chairs with sheets to make our walls. And we might need something heavy like books to keep them in place,” you said. It had been quite some time since you built a blanket fort, but it was all starting to come back to you now.

Vi got right to it, pulling one of the sheets from the pile and draping it over each pair of chairs. You went over to the coffee table (which you had earlier pushed against the wall to make enough space for the fort) and grabbed the books that sat atop it. You put a book on each seat, which held the sheets in place and prevented them from slipping. It was all coming together nicely.

Catching on, Vi asked, “Should we put some blankets down on the floor to make it comfy?” you nodded, happy she was starting to get it. Arranging a sheet down first over top of the area rug, you then layed down two comforters and lined the makeshift walls with pillows, making sure the biggest and comfiest went against the foot of the couch. You both added some extra blankets to snuggle up with once you were settled in the fort later. And then it came time for the roof. Working together, you pulled sheets across the chairs, using multiple to make sure there were no gaps and to ensure the fort was dark inside. Adding some finishing touches, like some electric candles and a small camping lantern, as well as a couple more pillows and blankets, the fort was complete. It wasn’t by any means the best blanket fort ever made, but it got the job done, and by the grin on Vi’s face, you'd say it was basically perfect.

“Ready to get in?” you asked Vi, who didn’t even give you an answer before launching herself into the fort. You couldn’t contain your giggle as you followed her in, albeit more calmly. It was a tight fit, but curling yourself up around Vi created some wiggle room. Vi threw a couple blankets across your tangled legs and settled into the pillows, pulling you closer by the waist.

The top of the sheet roof plus the angle you were positioned made for a perfect view of the TV, which was exactly what you had hoped for.

“Want to watch a movie?” you both asked simultaneously, which then made you laugh. So predictable.

“I chose last time, so it’s your turn,” Vi offered.

You thought for a second. “Pride and Prejudice (2005),” you said. Vi had already thumbed through and pulled it up on the screen.

“So predictable,” she whispered, shaking her head as a crooked smile appeared.

You gave her a playful shove in the side. “You know I like the classics. And anyway, Mr. Darcy reminds me of you.”

She scoffed. “How so?”

“Well, he’s proud, loyal, charming in a goofy way, and I find him rather pretty, especially when he smiles. And you share all of those traits,” you said. “But I will say your hands are much hotter than his.”

Vi attempted to play off your words, but a small blush crept across her cheeks. “Alright, let’s just start the movie,” she said, nodding towards the TV.

You kissed Vi’s shoulder, smiling up at her. “This was a great idea.” you said, and then proceeded to sneeze.

“Oh no, I gave you my sickness, didn’t I?” Vi looked at you apologetically. You just shook your head, snuggling back into her and turning your attention to the movie. It didn’t matter to you if Vi got you sick. You’d happily get her germs if it meant getting to also snuggle up with her to watch a movie while it stormed outside.

Eventually, though, and rather predictably, the combination of the movie, the storm, Vi’s warm body beneath you, and the comfort of the fort all lulled you into sleep. It looked like you’d be sleeping in the living room tonight. And there was nowhere you’d rather be.

Ko-fi

Tag list✨: @usuck @saqqarasdissent

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 10: We Should Get Married

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Ari’s got a special date planned for you in a special location the two of you hold near and dear

Word Count: 3,229

Content/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, smut, outdoor sex, protected sex (woo hoo! He comes in the condom), cockwarming, nudity, kissing, mentions of alcohol consumption (champagne), happy tears, loooooove or whatever, nervous and organized Ari, semi-unsuspecting Duchess, good friends, discussions of marriage, I think an engagement ring should be a warning

A/N: It’s been too long! I’m so happy to finally release another chapter of our majestic mountain man.

PLEASE screech with me in asks, comments, and reblogs!! Much love!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter.

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Ari had run his hands through his hair in nervousness so many times today that he was afraid he was about to go bald. His hiking boots paced on the floor of the ranger station as he bit his nails, a nasty old habit, and went through the plan with his coworkers and friends once again.

“Max, you’re sure you can do that?”

Max rolled his eyes, albeit with a smile, and nodded once again.

“Yes, Ari. It’ll be good training for my next lumberjack competition, anyway. You know nothing is gonna keep me from climbing up a tree for a good shot.”

Ari nodded and blew out a breath, hands on his hips.

“Okay, okay, good. And Rachel, appointment all booked?”

She smiled. “Yep! Today after work, so she’ll be all ready for tomorrow. Oh! And before I forget, here is your special package. I know you said you were going to pick it up from the jeweler, but I knew I’d be seeing you today, so one less thing to worry about going into town for.”

Ari reached for the bag Rachel held out for him, feeling the small box was there. He gingerly nestled his fingers in the cinched opening and pulled to get to the contents, taking out and rolling the velvet box between his fingers. He carefully opened it up to check the contents, the sparkle in his eye matching that of the item in front of him. A rare grin grew on the mountain ranger’s face for how anxious he had been, planning for tomorrow this whole week.

“Thank you for this. It’s perfect, just like her.”

You were running around the house like crazy trying to tidy up as dinner was cooking on the stove. After a couple weeks of insane work, Ari had convinced you to take two days off to relax and treat yourself. It wasn’t without your resistance, but finally you gave in since it would be a good opportunity to finally get to some things done around the house you’d been putting off. It was a chance to deep clean, but unfortunately, rush it a little since you wanted your day tomorrow to be all relaxation.

So far, you had reorganized the entire kitchen and spice cabinets, swept and mopped the whole house, tidied the bathroom, and washed all your bedding and laundry. All that was left was a little light dusting that was sort of high up, so you’d figured you’d wait for the next time Ari came over for him to get those high places, or at least make sure you didn’t fall when trying to reach the top of your cabinets.

You were sprawled on your floor between semi-folded piles of laundry, dresser drawers pulled open and emptied in an attempt to reorganize when you heard a knock on the door. You pushed yourself up with a groan and shuffled over the hardwood floors in your socks, pushing up your old, oversized sweatshirt sleeves, and readjusting your sweatpants before reaching for the door handle. When you turned it, you were surprised to be met by Rachel’s smiling face. And then it hit you and you facepalmed.

“Rach! Hi, oh my gosh, it totally slipped my mind. We have that nail appointment, don’t we?”

She laughed as you gestured for her to come through the door. “Yeah, I figured you either forgot or were busy when I called twice and you didn’t pick up. No worries, though. It’s not for another half hour.”

You blew some hair out of your face and checked your watch as you closed the door.

“Okay. That’s good, then. I’m going to go change. You can help yourself to dinner if you haven’t eaten yet and then we can go?”

“Sounds good.” She nodded as she already went to open your cabinets to grab a plate.

Taking a rare chance to pamper yourself was a treat. You laid in bed late Friday morning, sighing as you looked out the window, sipping a coffee that was lukewarm at this point, but you didn’t mind. It was made with love. Ari had stopped by just an hour ago before his Ranger shift and made it for you, pleasantly surprised to find you still tangled in the sheets. It was rare for you to sleep in this late, but he was glad you’d taken his advice on giving yourself a break, a chance to relax for once. You deserved it with how hard you worked.

You watched him intently that morning, the then-steaming mug of coffee snug in your hands, as he strode over to your closet. He slid the hangers from one side to the other, searching for something specific until he found it. “Ah! Here it is.”

He turned and set it on your dresser: a sundress. The one you had worn on your first date in the mountains where Ari had shown you his favorite overlook of town.

“This one’s my favorite. Wear it tonight? I’ll take you out.”

Your face morphed into a sleepy smile, voice still a little raspy.

“Okay. Then you and me can come back here afterwards? We’ve both got the weekend off.”

He grinned, moving across the room in only a few steps, leaning over and reaching for his hands to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his fingertips barely tangled in your hair. Ari nodded, his golden brown locks swaying beautifully as he did, as he leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and finally deeply and lovingly on your lips.

“Perfect, Duchess. I love you.”

And with that, he was out the door.

Ari showed up at your house that evening when the sun was low in the sky, but there was still a little time before it set below the horizon. You walked down the steps out to his truck, surprised to see him dressed up more than usual. He wore a flannel shirt, but you could tell it was a new, fresh one. Crisp. The colors were complimentary to those of your dress. Where was he taking you? Somewhere fancy? You trotted out to see him and leaned into him as he squeezed you tight.

When you pulled away, you ran your hands up and down his chest on the soft fabric while his hands rested on your waist.

“So what’s the special occasion, Bear?”

He smiled and shrugged, grabbing your hand and leading you to the truck. “Just another day in paradise. There have to be a special occasion for me to treat my girl?”

Ari was playing it cool on the outside, but underneath the surface, he was a nervous wreck. He had wiped his hands several times on his good jeans so you wouldn’t be able to feel how clammy they were. His heart was beating a mile a minute, but he did his best to keep his breathing even. This was meant to be a happy occasion, and deep down, he knew what your answer would be. He had known for months, really when he looked back at the signs, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still nervous.

You giggled as you hopped up on the seat. “Of course not. I’ve just never seen you this dressed up. You look spiffy. I like it.”

Ari huffed out a laugh as he climbed up in the truck behind you and closed the door. “More than the ranger shorts? More than that old ballcap I always see your drooling over?”

You turned your torso towards him, holding your hands up to stop that thought. “Woah, woah. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I will say it’s a top contender, though. Me and my sweet babe who looks absolutely dapper. But I’d happily spend everyday forever with you, in any clothes you want.”

Ari smirked as he turned the keys in the ignition. “Even no clothes?”

You poked a finger into his chest. “Now that, sir, might be my favorite outfit of yours.”

You knew exactly what was happening when Ari pulled onto the rocky road between the evergreens and past the creek bed. Well, at least you thought you did. The same magic was in the air as a year ago when he had brought you out here the first time, except now, there was somehow even more. More electricity, more love, more beauty in it all. After all that time, nothing had faded. It had grown brighter.

More than just metaphorically. Physically, too. As Ari pulled the truck towards the familiar Rocky cliff, small twinkling lights came into your vision. You looked over at him and tilted your head to the side as he put the truck in park.

“Ari, what’s going on? You did this?”

He turned towards you and smiled, gathering your hands in his and placing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Of course I did. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen out here, but I figured some extra ambiance would be nice. I’ve got picnic supplies in the back, why don’t we hop on out and I’ll grab them, meet you over at the blanket that’s set out. Sound good?”

You nodded and gave him a final kiss as he helped you down out of the cab. While Ari hung back, you made your way out near the cliff edge to the blanket where fairy lights were strewn across a small wooden arch, along with ivy and some buds of your favorite flowers. You leaned over to sniff one, the floral scent mixing with the surrounding pine in the refreshing mist that covered the mountains. As you looked out over the town in the valley, you could see the peachy sun just starting to dip below the horizon. This was your favorite time of day next to the sunrise, as the golden hour light bathed the scenery.

You stood back up and took a deep breath in, relaxing your shoulders as your heard Ari’s steps coming up behind you.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view.”

“Neither will I.” Ari’s voice came from right behind you, but not as high up as you would’ve expected. And he sounded like he had stopped moving. Usually, he would’ve come up and hugged you from behind to share the view, but something must’ve stopped him. You turned around to investigate.

When you did so, your gaze was drawn downward, finding Ari’s face lower than yours. He was on a knee, sharing the blanket you were standing on. Your breathing started picking up and you covered your mouth in a gasp as you saw what was in his hands: a small wooden box that housed a ring. A beautiful emerald, framed by twisting vines of gold. It was so unique. The deep green matched the wooded mountains around you, and somehow seemed mimetic to the love you and Ari shared. A comforting, natural, golden tie between hearts. The ring was perfect, and so you.

Before Ari could even say a word, tears were flooding your eyes.

“Yes! Oh my gosh. Yes, Ari, Yes!!”

He laughed and smiled as he gently took your hand that you had frantically shoved out in front of you and slid the ring on your finger. In a second, you were falling into him, throwing your arms around his neck in the tightest hug, turning your head to kiss his bearded cheek over and over again.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

Ari stood up, your feet no longer on the ground from his squeeze around your torso, spinning you around in celebration. When he finally set you down, he pulled back and held your hands in his, kissing the new ring that fit perfectly onto your finger, looking deeply into your eyes and giggling with elation.

“I love you, too, Duchess. Baby, I had a whole speech planned and I didn’t even get to say it!”

You shook your head and sniffled, smiling profusely. “Okay, okay, sorry. Go ahead, say it now.”

Ari took a quick breath and rubbed his thumbs over your knuckles as he began.

“When I brought you here a year ago, I told you that this was my favorite spot on earth. But I want you to know, you’re my favorite spot on earth. I’d be so happy anywhere with you. You saved me, and you’ve given me endless grace, and I’m so honored that you’re willing to let me be your husband.”

Ari’s eyes were watering now with emotion as you moved your hands to his cheeks, pulling him down for another kiss. Afterwards, he turned his head and kissed the inside of your left hand, right at the underside of your newly adorned engagement band. He was already obsessed with seeing you in it. Feral, even, and you could tell by the way his gaze darkened, exactly what he was feeling. A smirk grew on your face.

“Right here or truck bed?”

Ari’s grin matched your own. “Truck bed. You go ahead and get over there. I’ve gotta make a call first.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, so you slowly started walking as Ari pulled out his phone from his back pocket.

“Max, hope you got some good photos, but I’m gonna need you to climb down real quick from that tree and get outta here.”

Ari looked at you with a dopey smile. “My fiancée and I are about to do something I don’t want you to see, especially with a telescopic lens.”

Ari shoved his phone back in his pocket and jogged after you.

“Yes! Oh my gosh. Yes, Ari, Yes!!”

Your hands clawed into his chest as you ground your body against his harder, faster. Ari’s flannel shirt had been hastily unbuttoned and opened, his tan chest on display and pants tossed off to the side as you straddled his waist, sundress long gone. It was a wild act of love in the middle of the wilderness. Ari’s feet were planted on the blanket he had laid out in the truck bed as he thrusted upwards to meet you. His blunt fingertips dug slightly into your hips, guiding your movements. The sun had fallen in the sky, the last drops of light remaining, just enough to cause the new gemstone you wore to sparkle almost as much as the eyes of your new fiancé.

Ari grunted and groaned as he continued to look up at you, his muscles growing sore and faltering with exhaustion of chasing your mutual, pleasureful release. You could see the pleading in his eyes as you clenched, the both of you nearing your peak.

The sensation of the hair at Ari’s base tickling your clit had been stimulating you slowly in a gradual climb, but not enough to tip you over the edge, the two of you prolonging this aspect of your celebration of a life tied together.

Ari took one of his large hands and snaked it towards your belly, fingers putting pressure just above your mound and thumb making small circles on your slick clit. The begging that you had only read on his face became verbal as you clenched harder at the stimulation.

“Please, Angel. I’m so close. Come for me. Come with me, baby. I-I-“

Ari let out a loud groan that morphed into almost a whimper as he threw his head into your chest while he spilled into the condom. His breaths were heaving with satisfaction. Your arms cradled his head against you and your body shook with your orgasm, triggered by seeing him like that. You rode out your high with a few slow grinds of your hips before collapsing on top of Ari. He leaned back against the rear window of his truck, looking up at you, the happiest he had ever been. Ari had never been this at peace, this satisfied with his life, but right now, it was better than anything he could’ve ever imagined.

You looked down at him, having moved your hands to the sides of his neck as he had pulled away, your thumbs brushing the sensitive skin of his jugular.

Ari was positively enamored. He had been this whole time, but now he knew for sure, he belonged to you. You belonged to each other.

“Let’s get married right now.”

Your eyes went wide and you laughed. “Sex was that good, huh?”

The smile had no prospect of being wiped off Ari’s face. “I mean, it’s always good. But that was better somehow. I can’t wait to see what it’s like when we’re husband and wife.”

One of your hands moved over his heart. “Bear, I guarantee you it’ll be much better, considering I’ll be the one going feral over you wearing a wedding band.”

He shrugged. “So then why not right now? Drive out to a little chapel in Vegas, hire an Elvis, ride away into the sunset in one of those ridiculous pink limousines with the longhorns on the hood. We can find you a little white dress, I’ll rent a cheap suit. Ya know, feed each other wedding cake, the whole shebang.”

You just giggled and shook your head. “No. I’ve gotta tell my mom. I want our family and friends there.”

Ari sighed, but acquiesced. “I know, I know. It was worth a shot, though. Ain’t no point in waiting when you know, though…. ya know?”

You nodded. “I know, hun. And trust me, I’d get married to you in a heartbeat, but look how much work you put into this engagement. I want that in the wedding. Sure, it’s our special day, but we’re sharing it with family. And I want it to be as beautiful as the love we share.”

Ari’s eyebrows raised as he blew out a breath. “If you want what I did for this engagement on a wedding scale, I’m not sure we’re gonna have money for a honeymoon. We can go to Paris, but it’ll just have to be the one in Tennessee.”

You grimaced thinking about how much Ari must’ve spent. Flowers were expensive! And honestly, probably so was the ring. But you knew that the amount of money spent wasn’t what it was about. It was about showing how much you loved each other through your gestures.

“No need to go bankrupt. We’ll keep it small and thrifty. All I care about is people seeing how devoted I am to you.”

Ari smiled, the small stress that had painted his brow melting away from your reassurance. Just as he was sitting up to give you a kiss, his stomach grumbled, causing you both to laugh.

“Oh yeah, this was supposed to be a picnic. Okay, babe, pull out the food and let’s get at it.”

Ari stole a kiss and leaned over, opening the picnic basket as you let out a whine at the feeling of him inside you. That reminded you that you were both sitting here naked, too. From on top of the food, Ari pulled out a warm blanket, heated by the steamy container lids. He draped it over the two of you, the skin of your chests comfortably pressed together.

The rest of the night was filled with more than enough warmth, love, laughter, and champagne sipping for the two of you.

Next >

Bonus A/N: hngggg squeeeee!!😍🫣 that is all.

Taglist: @patzammit @hawkeyes-queen @identity2212 @jamneuromain @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @mrsevans90 @steviebbboi @mercurial-chuckles

[jessequinones]

Writing Advice: Chapters

A lot of my advice comes down to, having beta readers, and “it’s up to you” which doesn’t sound like good advice but when it comes to writing, everyone writes differently so there are different ways of doing the same thing. So, what’s my advice when I talk about chapters?

To me, a chapter is a section of the book which talks about a certain event. There’s no right or wrong way for how long the event should be, and there’s no right or wrong way of how the event can start or end. Here’s how I write my chapters and what I’ve learned along the way.

Starting the chapter:

Before I start the chapter, I need to figure out what the main event is gonna be. Will this event be informational? Action pact? Suspenseful? It can also be a combination of a few events as well, such as having my characters find information, but something goes wrong and now they have to escape.

After I figure out what the main event is gonna be, I start writing and once I complete that event I end it and move on. I try not to carry on too much after the main event has finished because I feel like my chapters might drag if I do.

Writing the chapter:

When it comes to a chapter, I try to have a beginning, middle, and end section. (Keep in mind this doesn’t work for every chapter.) Let me explain what I meant about those sections. The event in this example is Nix and Dante are tryna get information, but something goes wrong after they get said information. So the chapter starts at the beginning where Nix and Dante enter a secured location. The middle is where they get passed all of the alarms and hacked into the network. The ending is they got the information but an alarm gets triggered anyway.

Expanding the chapter:

So, I wrote the beginning, middle, and end, the event is done, but it was kind of boring. Let’s expand it to them escaping. This is where I think chapters start to become long. Some people combine two events into one chapter and some events are longer than others. Escaping a secured facility sounds more difficult than sneaking in. So, adding an escape attempt can spice up the chapter, but you need to be careful with how you do it.

I think when people complain about long chapters, one of their reasoning is “This feels like it could’ve been split into two chapters”. It might be the fact there are two separate events, both with their beginning, middle, and ends. If you want to expand upon your chapter, I would change how the beginning, middle, and end originally played out so it feels more natural when you go from one event to the next. This will take practice and beta readers can help if a chapter sounds too long or just right.

So instead of sneaking into a place, getting the information and having to escape. I would get rid of the middle part where Nix and Dante were sneaking and just show them entering the building, maybe talk for a few paragraphs before they reach their end goal because I already know escaping is gonna add several more pages. It’s a trial and error, and some readers might prefer the sneaking portion, while others might enjoy the fast pace. The end result is what do you like?

Continuing chapters:

What about chapters that don’t need a beginning, middle and end? Those chapters are what I call, continuing chapters. The most obvious examples of continuing chapters are the final climax of a story, like a big battle. The big battle might take multiple chapters to get through, and starting at the beginning, middle, and end of each chapter where the main event is the final fight, might get a bit tiresome. A simplified way of taking a large event, like a big fight, and breaking it over several continuing chapters is having each chapter be its own thing. Let’s say it takes three chapters to finish the final confrontation. The first chapter is the beginning, so there’s lots of build-up, but nothing too bad. The second chapter is the middle and is normally the longest out of the three. It’s the one with the most fighting and maybe a character dies at the end as a cliffhanger. The third chapter is where the villain is defeated and the fight is over thrust concluding the three sections.

That was a very simplified way of explaining continuing chapters, but yeah, not every event can be told in a single chapter, sometimes you have to space them out a bit. I would recommend letting the readers know that said event will most likely take a long time to complete so they'll be aware it's gonna be a long read.

Length of a chapter:

People often ask, how long should a chapter be, and there’s no real answer to that. Some can be a page, and I’ve seen others that are thirty. (Looking at you DragonFire). I personally don’t try to go for a word count or page limit. Often times when I try to make my chapters reach a certain goal, I find there’s a lot of filler that could’ve been cut. This is why I like to write my chapters as if I were writing an event and just focus on the event itself. If I need to expand or get rid of something, I can do that later.

My chapters are normally three pages in length, whenever I go over that, I try to tell my readers the next upcoming chapters will be long. This kind of tactic will depend on your story of course, but let’s go back to Nix and Dante.

In the example, Nix and Dante went into a secured location, took some information and got caught, now they needed to escape. If I want to add the escape portion in the same chapter because breaking in was kind of short, I might tell the reader before said chapter even began that “This mission won't be an easy one”, or “You’ll need to be real careful stealing the information because if you get caught, guards will come.” So, by the time Nix and Dante do get caught, the reader should be aware, the chapter will continue for a few more pages.

Oh yeah, if you’re gonna write a long chapter, make sure to have at least one smaller chapter to break it up. (DragonFire) Having long chapters, after long chapters, is, at least for me, very tiring. I don’t like to stop reading midway through a chapter, but reading thirty pages in a day is very difficult. So if you know you have some long chapters, throw in a few short ones.

Readers might also hate long chapters because they feel like there’s a bit too much filler in them. (Filler-in chapters aren’t the same thing as filler chapters).

Filler-in chapters might appear in one of two ways, either there’s too much filler to get to the main event, or there’s too much filler and the chapter should’ve ended already. Beta readers are a good way of telling you if there’s filler in a chapter or not. Keep in mind, that you, as the writer know what’s best for your story. Readers can only tell you how they feel. If you feel the “filler” part isn’t filler, but a lot of people say it is. Finding a workaround can be difficult. Unfortunately, I don’t have any advice on this kind of topic because this kind of writing problem is unique for every writer. Writing groups might be able to help as they’ll have your text and can help figure out what's going on.

Filler chapters:

There’s nothing wrong with filler chapters. Not every chapter needs to focus on the main story. I personally like filler chapters. They’re fun chapters which explore the characters and the world. A bit of a refresher after an intense fight is fine. When people complain about filler chapters, it’s often because there’s a bit too much of them. Or they came out of nowhere and killed the pacing. For example, if everything has been dark and gritty, having a chapter that’s more on the upbeat side is strange. Also if the chapter ends with a character's death and the next one ignores it, readers might not like that. This is one of the reasons why I don’t like POV swapping between every chapter. If someone dies in character (A) POV, and the next chapter switches to character (B) POV where they’re on the beach…I might get a bit annoyed. Even if Character (B) POV isn’t filler, I just witnessed someone die, I wanna know what’s going on and not swap to another POV.

Also filler chapters tend to be on the shorter side as well. If a filler chapter goes on a bit too long, then it might feel like the story is losing its focus a bit.

Beta readers can help point out which chapters are filler and where to add in filler if that's something you want to do.

Chapter Endings:

Ending a chapter is always interesting, do you want to end it with a cliffhanger or not? Does your chapter flow smoothly from one to the other? I don’t mind cliffhanger endings but try not to make every chapter a cliffhanger. At some point it becomes a bit much for some readers such as myself, I prefer to stop reading at a good stopping point. Cliffhangers aren’t a stopping point, I need to see what’s gonna happen next. Creating a cliffhanger after a long chapter, for me is a bit much. Long chapters already drain me, and forcing me to continue to get to an actual stopping point will make me enjoy your book less. (I understand no one is forcing me to read a book, but I just really, really hate stopping at cliffhangers). Not to mention if there are multiple cliffhangers in a row, I might put the book down and not pick it up for a long time because I’ll have no idea how many cliffhangers I’ll have to deal with before getting to an actual pause in the story. Personally, as a reader, I feel like there needs to be good stopping points. Places where it’s safe to stop reading and the reader can pick it back up later.

If you end a chapter in a city and the next one starts in a jungle, that kind of scene change might be a bit confusing so again, just send it through a couple of beta readers and see how you did with the transition portion of going from one chapter to the next. The same thing goes for tone as well. If the last chapter ends with a death, and the next one is in a circus, the tone shift might be a bit much. Just pass it along with a beta reader.

That’s about it for chapters. If you want some more detailed advice on certain chapters then let me know, but chapters are one of those things where it comes with practice. The length, the event, the ending, all of this stuff will be determined by your ability to write. Beta readers are a great way of pointing out how they felt while reading a chapter and you can go from there.

[rebo-chan]

Okay so I make a lot of canon-adjacent posts. *gestures at my food post* very canon very important very informative. But my heart is full of whimsy and magic and sugar and spice and everything nice.

Today I wanted to talk about some of my hcs that I have regarding Tsuna and Reborn. Shit I just completely made up ^v^ I'll do five each to not make this a long post again rkehns.

Tsuna:

Grows up to really like coffee like his mentor, but could never really stand straight espresso. From my food post research, I saw that he is a snack food fiend. So, I think he's the type to enjoy lattes, frappuccinos, and mocha. What I'm saying is that he walks into Vongola meetings with a iced coffee and he stress-drinks it for the sugar rush.

Good with kids! I don't think he wants kids of his own, because he has enough of those, but he's the perfect balance of playful and strict. I do think though, if he did become a parent by some accident, he'd be the stricter one of the two. Mom is gonna be the fun one and Dad is the one that brings crazy things around you, but tries to put you to bed at 8pm.

Still a bit of a dumbass as a mafia boss. The moment he found out he has to give salaries to people and try to tax that shit and file it with their IRS but also do the calculations himself, since technically he shouldn't show that information to Gokudera or anyone else that will know how to Math. He lives each paycheck day in fear that he will wake up the next morning and get arrested for fraud.

Actually bars anyone from bringing in pets to Vongola HQ. Believes they have their hands full with their box animals. "No, Yamamoto please we can't keep the box of stray puppies lets take that to a shelter -" "Gokudera, I see that you have a kitten in your pocket where.. where did you get it.." "Hibari.. Carry on, ignore me :)"

Has developed noise-cancelling ears. Doesn't hear the screams anymore. An ally family will comment on the noise at Vongola HQ and Tsuna will be like "..wdym? :o do you hear something?" Look around and will completely ignore Fuuta and I-Pin strapping Lambo to a medical desk as they are threatened by Bianchi, who is putting on sterile gloves and getting the scalpel. The silence though? The silence scares him. (WHAT A SOMBER LINE TO LEAVE OFF ON)

Reborn:

Super good with the ladies. I know this is something said in the story, but I mean the type that has the whole casual flirting with no weight to it thing down. But, also a little bit standoffish, like you'll never really get to know him this way. It's very strategic, but he does it for fun!!

Tries to teach Tsuna how to hide a body on multiple occasions, in case he ever needs it, but mostly to torment Tsuna. "You can't incinerate all your enemies to ash everytime, it'll get really obvious after awhile. You have to spice it up. Now, put on these gloves. I have someone for us to use" "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HAVE SOMEONE?"

I've said this one before, but it deserves saying again! I've always believed that pre-curse, his cosplay skills had real use! It was something he would use to sneak into buildings into or seduce who he needed to, before he brings the gun to their head. Very comfortable in skirts, dresses, wigs, makeup, etc. Wears his new identities like a second skin.

He snickers and sneers and smirks his way throughout the series (or does a lil maniacal evil laugh), but I bet his real laugh, uncursed, is deep and low. Something he keeps just in his throat, not loud at all. A softened version of his smirk on his face, pleased and relaxed. If you weren't paying attention, you'd miss it as he flips back into his regular demeanor.

LOVES judging things. Always the referee in their games (Snowfight!). Taste-testing (Mochi chapter!). Anything. He's judgmental and you WILL hear his opinion. I fully believe in the three criminal brothers episode, where Nana gets him coffee beans from a shop, he gets straight home afterwards and stands on the counter with his hands on his hips as it brews. He was prepared. Tsuna buys new snacks so Reborn opens all of them to take a bite and decide which one he likes best before taking it, leaving Tsuna with a bunch of opened bags. Ranks the guardians on obscure shit just to get them riled up "Most likely to win at a dance competition in a chicken suit" and he'll put Yamamoto above Gokudera just to watch him fume. A villain. I love him.

OKAY EVERYONE, THAT'S ALL I'LL DO FOR TODAY. Thank you for reading this far I hope you enjoyed reading it. PLEASE give me your hcs, I'd love to hear them. I need a lil pick me up c: It can be any character. Someday, I might do hcs for the other charas too. I think.. a lot about these guys. OKAY THANKS BYE !!!

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 12

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Warnings: none I can think of for this specific chapter but still no minors. lmk if there should be some.

Summary: Days after Joel apologized, you're still weighing your options. He asks you if you can take Sarah home for him, and you enjoy your afternoon with her. (2.1k+)

a/n: hiiiii. so this is just a lil filler chapter i guess. i wanted reader to bond more with sarah. also didnt want to jump right back into joel because he was not kind. sorry if theres typos/formatting issues. both nights i worked on this i was sleepy as hell. ill try to get one-two more out before next week! im headed out of town and when i get back classes are starting. xoxo

Chapter 11 - Masterlist - Chapter 13 (coming soon)

The weekend flys by quicker than you’d like. Your alarm rings and you groggily turn it off, sequencing the day before crawling to the kitchen and starting a pot of coffee. The aroma fills your house while you shower, washing the events of the past 4 days away for the millionth time. 

You haven’t heard from Joel but you aren’t bothered by it. You appreciate that he’s giving you the space and time, but you have a weird complex surrounding him. You’ve seen how good he can be to you, to Sarah, to others- but you’ve also seen how unpleasant he can be. You try not to think about it on the way to work, but you see him loading his truck up when you head out. He throws up a small wave with a smile, you nod back. Unlocking the car door, you throw everything into the passenger seat and set your travel mug in the cup holder, and head to work. 

The day is pretty uneventful. The kids are wild but it’s expected after a longer break. You take it as an opportunity to go back over rules and expectations in the classroom, and even turn it into a game. You don’t have lunch duty today so you head back to your room to eat and hear your phone ring from inside your desk. 

New Message From: Joel

Your stomach flips.

Late notice but anyway you can bring Sarah home today and keep her at my house until I finish up? Theres a key under the flowerpot on the porch, you can keep it just in case. I’m gonna be home later than expected. I'd really appreciate it. 

As nervous as you are to be in Joel’s house, to have a fucking key to his house, you don’t even have to think about it. Because the answer for Sarah is always yes. 

Hey! Sure thing. Do you want me to give her dinner? 

You click send and anxiously wait on a response, scarfing your lunch down before you have to go get your class. 

Ding 

Dinner would be great, and help yourself to anything you want. Theres chicken nuggets, pizza, and some leftover pasta. Sarah really struggled to get up this morning so she’ll need to be in bed before I get home. I shouldn’t be any later than 9 or so, so bedtime around 8:30 at the latest. 

Before you can respond, you have to head to the cafeteria to get your class. They all walk groggily down the hallway back to class, bellies full and eyes tired. 

The rest of the day drags. You do independent reading, recess, and a little social studies before the secretary drops the afternoon notes off. 

“Kiya, you’re a car rider today” you say, looking at her to make sure she heard you. “Dylan you’re going home with Oliver, and Sarah, you’re riding home with me.” Dylan and Oliver high five and Sarah smiles and nods. 

“Why does Sarah always get to go home with you?” a voice from the back of the class exclaims.

“Sarah is my neighbor! And sometimes her dad has to work late so I take her home until he gets home.” Before you can pinpoint who asked, the bell rings. 

“Have a good afternoon everyone! Remember to fill out your reading log!” You say over the shuffle of feet and echos of voices. 

Sarah knows the routine, so she pulls a book out of her backpack and sits quietly reading until its time to go.

In the car, she asks for the Spice Girls and you both jam out the whole way home.

You pull into your driveway first. “I thought I could grab my nail polish and we could do a girls day at your house. How’s that sound?” you say. Sarahs eyes light up, and she begins vigorously shakingher head up and down. 

She follows you into your house. “We won’t be here long” you declare, walking down the hallway. “So leave your shoes on!” You notice her look at the flowers on your counter, the ones from Joel.

You’re walking back up the hall, nail polish in hand. As soon as Sarah sees you she blurts “Are these from my dad?” her head cocked to the side, her eyes wide. “They are. Why do you ask?” she turns her head back upright, and a grin spreads across her face. “No reason.” She says giggling, and walking back out the door. You roll your eyes and follow behind her. 

You pull into Joel’s driveway and turn the car off. Sarah jumps out. “How are we gonna get in?” she asks, inquisitively. 

“Your dad left a key under the flower pot!” You tell her as she heads to the front door while you grab your purse and the bag of nail polishes. 

Once inside, you shoot Joel a quick text just to let him know you’ve got Sarah and are home.

Hey Joel, just wanted to let you know that we’re home. Are you sure about the key? And is there anything specific I need to know about her night routine? 

You set your phone down and sit at the island with Sarah, setting out all the nail polishes. She picks a deep purple with sparkles. You pick a baby blue. The color reminding you of the hydrangeas that your mother used to grow. You let Sarah paint yours first. She’s quiet; heavily focused on perfecting her technique. 

She finishes your hands and the look great, especially for her age. Before you can do hers, yours need to dry. You tell her she can grab a snack and work on homework until its her turn, that way she can watch TV after dinner. She jumps up and grabs some chips and her backpack. 

Ding 

You pick your phone up, skimming Joels response.

Yes, I’m sure about the key. Id rather you have it and not need it than not have it and need it. As for nightime, nothing really. No TV past 7:30, and she needs to shower and read before bed. 

You send a quick “Got it, see you in a few hours!” and sit your phone back down. You help Sarah with her math homework. It’s not your strong suit but you get the job done. 

After about an hour, she finishes her homework and its her turn. 

“Are you enjoying the school year so far?” you ask, painting a thin layer of purple on each of her fingers 

“It’s better now. It kind of wasn’t good at the beginning..” her voice trails off, and she looks down. You dont question her, or push her to tell you why. You already know why. “But its gotten a lot better since being in your class” she says, looking up and smiling. “Im glad!” you say, fanning her nails with your hands so the first layer will dry. She continues talking about school, her favorite subjects and her friends. You’re so thankful to have her. She’s like the little sister you never had. Her kindness radiates into everyone she comes into contact with, and her smile brightens a room.

“Pizza, chicken nuggets, or pasta?” You ask her. It’s 6:00 so you know if she wants time for TV, dinner needs to happen. 

“Mmmm can I have chicken nuggets?” she asks 

“Sure! And do you want carrots or cucumbers with it?” You ask, pulling the nuggets from the freezer for her and the pasta from the fridge for yourself. She sticks her tongue out. “Can I have broccoli instead? Dad buys the frozen bag ones, they’re in the freezer I think.” She says. “Of course!” 

You preheat the oven, and line a cookie sheet with foil. You line up 10 chicken nuggets and stick them in once the oven beeps. You throw the broccoli in the microwave. The scent of the 2 filling the house, making your stomach grumble. 

You put 5 nuggets on Sarahs tray to start, along with a scoop of broccoli and some strawberries. Your pasta beeps in the microwave and you pull it out, sitting down beside Sarah. Few words are exchanged during dinner, but its a comfortable silence. You’re both content with the humming of the refrigerator. 

Dinner finishes and 7:00 comes quick. You tell Sarah she can have TV until 7 but then its shower and reading. Sarah turns the TV on to Cartoon Network, and you put the 3 nuggets Sarah didnt eat into a bowl and stick it in the fridge, along with the remaining strawberries and broccoli.

Washing dishes is such a daunting task to most, but not to you. Its therapeutic, the warmth of the water and the mindfullness of the task. Each dish you wash, each plate you clean, feels like a small act of care—care for Joel’s home, care for yourself, and even care for those who will use the dishes next. As the last plate is washed and the sink is cleared, there’s a sense of quiet accomplishment.

Sarah finishes her show and heads straight for the shower, you wipe the counters down and check your phone. 

New Message From: Joel

Should be home by 9:30. Do you need anything from the store? 

You smile. Joel’s thoughtfulness is something you missed. The way he anticipates your needs, and is reassuring. 

No thanks, Im good. But I appreciate it. Drive careful. 

You hear the shower water turn off and grab Sarahs books and reading log from her backpack. You pull out a book about Egypt, and the first book in the Boxcar Children series. You smile, remembering reading the same book with your mom before everything went to shit. 

Sarahs PJs are on and shes in her room. Her nightstand light on, dimly lighting her pale pink room. You knock on the door before peaking your head in. “Hey kiddo, you alright in here?” you ask, sittingon the edge of her bed beside her legs. “Yeah, Im okay. Just really-” her sentence interrupted by the worlds biggest yawn. You laugh. “Tired.” she says, laughing with you. 

You look at the clock beside her lamp 

8:17

“Do you want me to put your books in your bag? I can have your dad fill out your reading log for you.” You say, standing up. 

“Yes please.” Sarah says, handing her books to you. She lays down and pulls her comforter up to just below her face. 

“Goodnight Sarah, see you tomorrow” you say quietly, turning her light off. 

“Goodnight. Thank you for always hanging out with me.  She says, turning over. 

You turn around, smiling. Closing her door gently behind you.

You log her reading and put her things back in her backpack, peaking at the time. 

8:46 

Not bad you think to yourself. You finish cleaning the kitchen, sweeping and wiping the stovetop. You then settle into the comfiest fucking couch ever, turning on One Tree Hill. You grab a blanket and it smells like Joel. You wrap yourself up in it, inhaling deeply. Your eyes slowly begin to drift. You fight until you cant and drift into a hazy slumber. 

“Hey darlin” 

“Im home, it’s time to wake up” 

You startle awake, throwing the blanket off and jumping up. 

“Woah woah. I ain’t mean to scare ya girl” Joel says, laughing. He walks away, holding a handful of groceries. 

“Hey. Sorry, you scared me.” You say, folding the blanket and throwing it back on the couch. 

“How’d it go?” Joel asks, putting groceries in the fridge. 

“Good! We did each others nails this afternoon and she really enjoyed that.” you say quietly. It’s not awkward being with Joel, but it doesn’t feel like it used to. 

“She ate 7 chicken nuggets, 2 helpings of broccoli, and some strawberries. She also read for probably 20ish-30 minutes. I filled out her log already, she was really tired.” You say, turning to grab your bags and put your shoes on. 

“Hey, thank you, again. For all that you do for Sarah.” He begins, “Her mom is around but she isn’t very consistent so I think it really helps to have another positive female figure in her life.” He finishes, smiling. 

“I told you, it’s really no problem. Im glat to help when I can.” You say lightly, walking to grab your keys off the entryway table and opening Joel’s from door. 

“Oh I almost forgot” Joel says, walking toward you. “I know you said you didn’t need nothin’ but I just wanted to get ya somethin’ to say thank you. He opens a grocery bag and pulls out a 4 pack of blueberry muffins. 

“Joel, you didn’t have to do that.” You say, taking them from his hand. 

“Oh don’t worry about it. You always are here for Sarah and I cant thank ya enough.” He says, smiling. 

“How’d you know blueberry was my favorite?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“Lucky guess” he says, chuckling.

“Well, goodnight Joel. Thank you again for the muffins.” You say, opening the door. 

“Goodnight Yellow.” He says, smiling and waving as you pull the door behind you.

[cowgurrrl]

Tall Boy

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: I didn't go into writing this thinking I would write a little bit of spice so please be nice (poetry fr)

Summary: Fireworks, Uber Calls, Confessions, Oh My! [3.6k]

Warnings: consumption of alcohol, drunken shenanigans, Joel and Tommy being the only Texan men I would trust with my drinks, so much goddamn yearning, oh what's happening with Andie and Tommy??, Joel the Menace makes his return, smutty thoughts and actions (I've made them wait nine chapters they deserve to be a little horny. as a Treat.), getting caught, preparing you for Sleeping on the Blacktop

You don't get to cut loose very often as a teacher. You're almost always worried about lesson plans, grading, assignments, supplies, money (or lack thereof), politics, student's mental health, and a million other things that plague your mind when you try to sleep. Sure, you have a drink or two sometimes, but never anything close to like when you were in college and would end up back at your apartment at four in the morning just to get up three hours later for a lecture at eight. You weren't always going to be a high school teacher, and your past reflects that. And Andie has waited a long time to get a little bit of that spirit out of you again.

New Year's Eve starts easy enough with a nice dinner in downtown Austin with a glass of wine or two with the food. You and Andie got all dolled up in short, curve-hugging dresses and makeup and decided you would take yourselves out if nobody else was going to. "But we're not gonna get arrested like we did in high school, right?" You asked over dinner, but she just shrugged with a mischievous look in her eyes.

"We'll see where the night takes us." 

You bounced from bar to bar, sipping drinks and half-flirting with whoever approached, hoping for a free drink. Lucky for you, nobody is immune to Andie's charm. You lose track of how much you've had to drink once the room starts spinning pleasantly, and you can barely hear yourself over the loud music. You dance with beautiful strangers, sing along to the music, and even steal a cigarette from a willing accomplice outside. It feels good to act like your own age and not everybody's mom. 

By the time midnight rolls around for the Central Time Zone, you and Andie are drunk, leaning on each other and butchering the lyrics to Aud Lang Syne. "We should call an Uber!" Andie yells in your ear, and you nod. You stumble outside and squint at your phone, giggling at your fleeting thought.

"I've got a better idea than Uber."

You and Andie are sitting on the curb outside a gas station right off of Sixth Street, sharing a tall boy and following instructions to "stay put," when his truck pulls up next to you. Joel looks sleepy but not mad, while Tommy looks like he just walked up on a small miracle.

"I thought teachers weren't supposed to be fun!" He laughs as you hand Andie the beer and somehow get yourself to your feet.

"You, obviously, didn't have the right teachers." 

"I reckon so." He says as you dig your keys out of your purse to hand to Joel. He nods gratefully as Tommy helps Andie off the curb. They start talking about something, but you can't hear them over the way Joel's looking at you. Like he did at the gallery, his eyes linger on every piece of exposed skin he hadn't seen before. Something akin to worry clouds his vision, but you catch him looking at your legs and smack his chest. 

"Eyes up here, Mr. Miller," you call him out. "See somethin' you like?" You ask, and he chuckles at how southern you sound when you drink.

"You look very nice." He says, and you smile. For some reason, you step into him and rest your head on his shoulder. He's so warm, and you're tired and just drunk enough not to care about the rules. You feel him freeze for a moment before his hand comes up to your waist to help keep you upright. "Let's get you home, hm?" 

Andie refuses to leave Tommy's side now that they've gotten into an argument about the best musician of all time, and she decides to ride in your car with him while you climb into the truck with Joel. The second you're alone in the car with him, you just start laughing to yourself. Joel laughs a little, too, as he turns the ignition over. 

"What's so funny?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"Just you." You say, giggling a little more. 

"Me?" 

"Yeah, you."

"What about me?" 

"A few weeks ago, I thought I'd fucked you over, and now you're picking me up 'cause I got too drunk on New Year's Eve," it's not funny, but you laugh anyway. "You're a much better person than I am." You say. It's quiet in the truck as your words settle like dust on the dashboard. The only sound is the engine running and the distant sounds of fireworks popping in nearby neighborhoods. He takes a deep breath and rests a hand on your headrest to reach around in the backseat, producing his large jacket and pulling it over your body to protect you from the cold.

"I think you're a good person. Definitely a world better than me," he says as he puts the car in drive. "And, for what it's worth, you didn't fuck me over."

"No?" You ask, and he shakes his head, glancing at you as he pulls onto the road. 

"No." He says, and you hum. You pull his jacket closer to you and cling to the smell of pinewood, leather, and hints of his cologne. If they sold this smell in a candle, you would go into debt just to have it linger in every room. The thought presses on a bruise you forgot was there, and in your inebriated, vulnerable state, you can't stop yourself from staring at his profile as yellow streetlights and bursts of fireworks reflect across his face. 

You study him the way you've been dying to for months. Your eyes study how his eyebrows move with minute emotions and muscles. The way his big nose curves perfectly. The way his jaw clenches and unclenches when he's nervous or unsure what to say. You wish you had a piece of paper and a pencil to sketch his side profile as it comes into view between headlights. You don't believe in muses, but you believe in inspiration. Especially when you look at him.

"Thank you for comin' to get us. I know you'd rather be sleeping." You break the silence, and he nods. 

"I'd rather know you're safe than anythin' else," he says. "How much did you have to drink?"

"I don't know," you groan, absentmindedly rubbing at your face and no doubt smearing makeup. "People kept buying us drinks, and I'm so fucking broke, I'm not gonna say no to a free drink."

"People? What people?" He asks, his interest suddenly piqued. You shrug and put your feet up on the dash. He glances at them but doesn't shove them off. 

"I don't know. People. Men people." You say.

"Different men or the same guy?"

"Does it matter?"

"No," he says a little too quickly. "No, it doesn't matter. As long as you had fun." There's something off about his tone, but you can't place it. At least, not until he puts the final nail in his own coffin. "D'any of 'em try to get your number?" 

"Oh, my God!" You squeal excitedly as you sit up and put your feet back down. "Are you jealous?"

"No! Why would I be jealous? We're friends." 

"Yeah," you scoff. "'Friends.'" You say with intense finger quotes, and he furrows his brows as he looks at you. 

"Are we not friends?" 

"Joel, c'mon. I liked you from the second you walked into my classroom. We were never gonna be just friends." The confession comes loose before you can swallow it back down. It wiggles between you like a fish out of water, and you want to take it back. Not because it's not true but because you weren't ready to tell him. Things just got back to normal after the winter showcase. You're not ready to lose him again. 

"You're drunk," he says softly as if he's reminding himself more than anything. Maybe he thinks because you've been drinking, you don't mean it, but you do. You really, really do. It's too late to take it back, but you can try to bring levity back. You can try to backpedal a little. 

"You're drunk." You counter. He drives in silence for a few more miles, and the rumble of the car and the tequila weighing your mind down lull you to sleep— narrowly avoiding another hard conversation and worst-case scenarios.

You wake up on the first day of the new year hungover, sore, and in a bedroom you don't recognize. Bright sunshine bursts into the room and forces your eyes open in a squint. You almost jump up when you're greeted with a bottle of water and Tylenol on a nightstand that's not the white one on the right side of your bed. You sit up a little and look around at the cozy, if not a little cluttered, room.

The walls and the soft sheets are a nice, comforting blue. A few posters and pictures hang on the walls, and even a landscape painting hangs above the bed. Still, there's a little laundry strewn on the floor, and you recognize the closet full of flannel and button-up shirts next to you. You guess that's where your oversized, burnt orange Texas Longhorns shirt and black sweatpants came from. Snippets from the car ride and stumbling into the house fill your mind, and you groan in embarrassment. 

You remember Tommy calling Joel and telling him Andie got sick on the way to your apartment, and he didn't want to drop you off alone where something could go wrong. They offered to take you to their house, and in your drunk and stupid state, you said yes. You remember gentle hands holding your face as a cold, wet makeup wipe swiped across your skin, and thank God for that. Otherwise, you would feel worse than you already do. You remember hearing Andie and Tommy's voices outside the bedroom door, but you don't remember how you got into the room or the shirt. A light knock on the door pulls you out of your memories, and Joel walks in with a cup of coffee and a sympathetic smile.

"Good mornin', sunshine," he says, the right amount of mocking. "How're you feelin'?"

"Like I got hit by a truck." You say, and he laughs as he hands you the mug and sits on the bed. 

"I figured. I've got breakfast goin' downstairs. You need all the food you can get to soak up the alcohol." He says as you take a sip of the bitter coffee. You sigh into the cup at the (somehow) magical effects it has on your body, and he smiles. "That good, huh?"

"Yes, thank you," you say. "Thanks for everything. I know it probably wasn't fun trying to wrangle us last night."

"You weren't lyin' when you said how much trouble you and Andie got into together." He says. You think you could crawl into a hole and die at the embarrassing gaps in your memory.

"Oh, God. What happened?"

"Well, first of all, she wouldn't stop talkin' to you bout Tommy even though he was right there, but it was all good things. Then, you almost fell asleep on the couch after demanding’ Whataburger, and I had to carry you up the stairs. And then, Andie locked us in here and told us to figure our shit out."

"I'm gonna fucking kill her." 

"I'm pretty sure she almost fell asleep in the hallway waitin' us out. Tommy parked her in Sarah's room and slept on the floor in case she needed somethin'." He says. You knew the Miller men were kind and selfless, but this is a whole new level. You owe them a fruit basket or your kidney or something. You rub your temples and take another sip of coffee before taking two Tylenol. 

"And where did you sleep?" 

"You don't remember?" He asks, chuckling. At least he's not mad. If he was, you think you'd climb out the window and walk all the way home. "I tried to sleep on the floor, but every time I tried to lay down, you laid down next to me. You wouldn't even close your eyes unless I was next to you, so I built a little pillow wall and slept in bed." 

"Are you serious?" You ask, and he nods. You can vaguely recall getting into a hushed argument with him about kicking him out of his own bed and falling asleep against his chest, vindicated and content. You groan and bury your head in your hands. "Please tell me Ellie isn't here."

"She spent the night at Dina's house, none the wiser." He says. You almost say something about Ellie spending a lot of time with Dina recently, but keep your mouth shut. If something's going on, you doubt she wants her teacher to snitch on her to her dad.

"I'm so, so, so sorry, Joel."

"Don't be sorry. It was funny. I didn't know teachers partied so hard," he says, and you laugh a little. "Besides, it made me feel better knowin' you two were safe." You look up as he speaks and take a deep breath at how sweet he is. He smiles, and you scoot close enough to him to cuddle into his side. He welcomes you by tucking you under his arm and resting his head on yours. 

Your head is pounding, and your stomach is in knots, but the coffee and his presence help ground you. His hair is a little damp and smells like Ellie's shampoo. The thought of them sharing products makes you smile, and you rest a hand on his chest. Worn in, soft fabric cushioning your fingers as they rest over his heart. 

"Can we add this to our list of inappropriate secrets?" You ask quietly, and a puff of air leaves his nose in a laugh. He lifts his head from yours and looks down at you fondly. He doesn't look particularly well-rested, and you're sure that's your fault, but you also can't get over how beautiful he looks in the morning. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, his beard is a little unruly, and his shirt is crumpled, but the light streaming in makes his brown irises look amber and the grey in his hair silver. He's beautiful like this. He's beautiful all the time. 

"Course," he mumbles as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers on your jaw, fingers caressing your cheek, and your hand slides from his chest to his shoulder to keep him close. "D'you get a New Year's kiss, at least?" He asks. You purse your lips as you stretch your memory back.

"'M pretty sure I kissed Andie." 

"Nice." He says, too impressed, and you push at his shoulder. 

"What about you? You get a New Year's kiss?" You're walking the wrong side of the line, and you both know it. He smirks anyway.

"I was a little busy takin' care of these two drunks." 

"One time," you say. "I go out one time, and suddenly I'm a drunk." 

"That's all it takes." He shrugs, and you laugh.

"Apparently," you say. "Well, I'm sorry again. Didn't mean to ruin your chances of getting kissed." 

"Nah, you didn't."

"No?"

"No," he shakes his head as he leans in and kisses you, tilting your face up to him so he can control the angle. Two months. It's been two months since you last kissed Joel, and you can feel all sixty days of want in the searing kiss. He's not shy like he might've been in the past— waiting for you to make this first move— he's commanding and steals your breath out of your lungs when his tongue slides against yours. It's different, and so, so good. You wind your hand into his hair and lightly tug when his hands roam down your body and grab at your hips. You take the signal and throw a leg over his hips to straddle him, gasping when he presses into the small of your back and pushes you against him. 

Now, you're awake. Fuck the coffee.

You're dizzy when his mouth dips from your lips to your jaw, biting the sensitive skin there, and his hands wander below the fabric of your (his) shirt. His fingers are soft when they graze against your sides, skimming up your body until he squeezes your breasts. Both of you groan as you arch into his touch. He's barely touched you, and you're already soaked.

"Missed you." He whispers as his lips blaze a trail down your neck while his fingers lightly pinch your nipples. You grind your hips into his, desperately searching for friction, and he hisses like you hurt him. His hips canting up reassures you you didn't. "You gonna disappear on me again, sweetheart?" It doesn't come across as mean, but there's a new authority in his voice that you're not used to hearing. The dam isn't just broken. It's in fucking shambles at the bottom of the river. 

"'M not going anywhere." You breathe. "I promise." You think you mean it. You think you want to mean it. You think you're done caring about optics and what's "right." You want him, and based on the way the bulge in his sweatpants prods under you, he wants you too. He pulls away from your neck to kiss your lips again, wraps an arm around your back, and lays you on your back on the mattress. 

You tug at the back of his shirt and greedily let your hands roam over his chest and back when he throws it across the room. He's all broad shoulders and strong arms, and you can finally feel the muscles and warm skin you've thought about since way before that night in the bar. When his fingers trace patterns into your inner thighs, you moan into him and grip his forearm hard. "Joel, I need-"

"What? What d'you need, baby? Tell me." He asks, his fingers dancing closer and closer to where you want him. It'd be so easy for him to slip his hand under the waistband of your sweatpants and feel how desperate you are, but he hesitates. "C'mon, use your words."

"Fuck, I-" You start to say when the door creaks open.

"Joel, do you want— woah!" Tommy yells before you hear the door slam shut again and his feet rushing down the hallway, no doubt to tell Andie about what he just saw. Joel groans and buries his face in your neck, and it takes everything in you not to laugh. 

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him." 

"I'll help you hide the body." 

"Finally!" Andie yells from downstairs, and this time, you do laugh. 

"They're never gonna let us hear the end of this, are they?" You ask. 

"Probably not," he says. He's unmoving over you, and you sigh as you kiss his cheek. He lets his body weight drop into you, and you play with his hair while he rests his head on your chest. His hands rest under your body and press you closer to him, smothering you together. His broad shoulders expand and contract with every breath, and you count them as you scratch his scalp. "I have to go get Ellie soon." He mumbles into your chest. 

"Then, we should probably go." You say. He groans and kisses your sternum before pushing onto his forearms. He kisses up your chest to your neck, forcing a shaky breath from you when he nibbles at your earlobe. 

"I want you in my bed all the time," he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. "Wearin' my clothes, makin' all those pretty sounds, not havin' to worry bout Tommy or anybody." His chest rumbles against yours as he speaks; all you can do is squirm under him. His fingers picking up their previous patterns don't help either. "Wanna feel you come over and over again. On my fingers. On my tongue. On my cock. Wanna make you feel so good." His middle finger rubs against your clothed pussy, and your nails dig into his shoulder as you try to suppress a surprised sound. You're so wet, you'd be surprised if he couldn't feel the damp spot on your underwear. "You gonna let me make you feel good, baby? Huh?" He bumps your nose with his, subtly asking for attention when all you can focus on are the lazy circles he's drawing over you. 

"Please." You whimper, but you're not sure what you're begging for.

"I know, I know," he murmurs. You know you can't get away with anything with Tommy and Andie waiting for you downstairs but you want him to make good on his promise. You want him. You have for so long it's burning you from the inside out. And yet, he pulls away from you with a smirk. "I'm gonna take all the time in the world with you next time." He says as he rolls off of you, and you're left lying there, shocked and flushed.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You ask, sitting up, and he just shrugs as he pulls his shirt over his head. 

"I've gotta go get Ellie."

"Don't pull the Dad Card right now." You sound a little petulant, but honestly, you don't care. He worked you up to just walk away? This is cruel and unusual punishment. He presses his knee into the mattress and leans over you again, kissing you chastely.

"You'll have to get me back later." He says, and you sigh, shaking your head at the amused look in his eyes.

"I'm gonna make you wish you were dead."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia

[captainwriter]

Chapter 5 - We're going to be okay

Summary: Who is Quinn Hughes? That’s all Iris wants to know. Will Quinn and Iris be able to overcome the accident that rips them apart. Will Iris ever remember who Quinn Hughes is?

Masterlist l Chapter 4 l Chapter 6

Warnings: Aussie spelling, occasional swear word.

Words: 900

Quinn’s POV: 

She was nervous, I have no idea why. She fiddles with the ring I purchased her after she lost her last. The gold band lined with pale green and blue stones. I liked this ring as green is her favourite colour and mine is blue, also cannucks colours! I nudge her hand with mine to stop her from this downward spiral, next she will be nervously chewing her nails. I tried to ease the room with a joke in hopes to calm her nerves. It worked for a second as she bats at my chest and roles her gorgeous eyes.

Her rambling is cute, situations like this make me feel like nothing has happened. She still looks the same as the girl I fell in love with. Now a scar craved into her forehead. But still my girl. It’s been hard to reframe from all the things we use to do; the innocent touches, the not so innocent, I am sick of holding a pillow at night and not being able to smell her. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

I didn’t even hear the rest of her rambles as I too struck. I smile. I haven’t smiled quite like that on a while. “Sure thing sunshine.” It comes out naturally. I always called her sunshine or sunny because that’s what she is to me. My sunshine. She turns back to face the windscreen as I can see a smile grow on her face. How can I not like this girl? I’m so lucky to have her, to still have her. I almost lost her but I will do everything it takes to keep her here. She returns to singing however I don’t know if it was the lyrics or the person singing it but those words hit harder than normal. I felt three gentle squeezes to my hand. I. Love. You. Does she remember what that means? My mind is sent reeling. 

———

My mind is so distracted the rest of the drive home, I’m surprised when we pull up. The music is playing faintly as my phone sits in the kitchen. I stack the cabinet in the bathroom with the purchased products from todays trip. I stop and look at myself in the mirror, a big sigh, followed by a smile as today begins to settle in. Today was good. We have had some rough days since the accident, disagreements, feelings left unsaid, stress and some nights early on I could hear her crying from our bedroom. For the first time no matter what I do no pain goes away.

I walk back down the hallway, the faint music becoming louder, in the golden light casting through the window, a goddess. My sunshine. Dancing around the kitchen carefree putting the groceries away. As she opens the pantry door and places the spices down o grab her waist and spin her around. All my worries disappear. 

I hold her close, we sway back and forth. Our eyes interlocked, our bodies have a conversation. She tilts her head to rest her forehead on mine. We stay like this as the swaying slows. In comparison to the past 3 weeks this is extremely Intimate. I tilt my head the rest of the way, our lips interlock. Gentle but conveying the desperation, stress and anxiety we’ve had for the past three weeks. It’s only short. I’m sure only a few seconds. We pull apart and return to our foreheads resting on each other as we stand in the kitchen swaying to the faint beat. Her head slowly migrates to my chest, which is pounding quickly with my heart about to jump out and kiss her again.

——

My phone is pressed to my chest on speaker as I get comfortable in bed. I can’t wipe the grin off my face. I feel like a school boy, what is this? “Hi honey, how are you and Iris?” A sigh leaves my lips, different from the others, this time with a smile returning. “Good, we are gonna be okay mum.” 

After I hang up, I sit there and stare at my sealing, the bed empty next to me as Iris is across the hallway. It settles in that this is my new reality. My mind wanders away from today and back to 3 weeks ago. 

I pace around the room, my phone ringing on the couch next to me, I rush to it hoping it’s Iris. But as I raise it to my ear I see an unknown number flashing across the screen. I swipe with hesitation. What if she calls whilst I am speaking with whoever this is? “This is Vancouver General Hospital I’m calling to speak with Mr Quinn Hughes.” “Speaking.” 

“I’m sorry to inform you Mr Hughes, you are listed as an emergency contact for a Miss Henderson she has been in an accident and it currently at our hospital.”

I have never ran or drove as fast as I did that day. I shake my head, in hopes it get the memories out of my head. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed her. She doesn’t know what is going on at the moment. Shit! She doesn’t know anything or me. Damn it.

[starsomens]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 3・𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓮𝓵𝓼𝓮

̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Warnings: language, close proximity, nicer Noah ????? Spice????

note: a SUPER big THANK YOU to @darling-millicent-aubrey for the help with this chapter! I had such bad writers block and she was such a huge help thank you so much!!

̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Wake up, have breakfast, explore the mansion, and go to bed. Wake up, have breakfast, explore the mansion, and go to bed. Wake up, have breakfast, explore the mansion, and go to bed. On other days you tried to steer clear of Noah, not knowing why you were avoiding him.

You were already getting into the deep end, the most you could do was just not talk to him. That pattern had gone on for about a month. The only thing keeping you sane was speaking with your family, your books, and Vilma. You had even gone out into the garden and started planting some colorful flowers there.

But this constant loop would drive anyone mad. Yet you hardly had any energy to go out, but it was something you desperately needed. Today, you decide to get yourself dressed, grab your bag and go out. Just as you were reaching for the front door you heard a pair of footsteps. Looking to your left you see Noah walking with someone shorter than he was. He had some tattoos but not as many as the man you were married to. He had you’d call a “cute high school boy” face

“Where are you going?” Noah asked as he came to a stop “Just going out. I’ll go crazy if I’m here any longer.” You knew it short, with your hand still in the Handle

“Wait, we haven’t met yet have we?” The unknown man spoke coming forward “I’m Nick or Folio” he explained stretching his hand out for a handshake . You accept it, and he gives you a strong firm shake

“Folio? Another nickname?” You asked

“Oh you’ve met Jolly huh “ he chuckled “We have a Nicholas too so we just go by my last name:” he shrugged

“Oh I see, well anyway I gotta get going before it gets any later” Trying to escape the situation feeling Noah's strong gaze on you, but never looking in his direction. Nick nudges Noah, by the elbow, as if signaling for him to say, or do something. We hear Noah sigh, and then say.

“Where are you heading? I’ll go with you.” He said “I’m just going shopping. You don’t have to come, besides, you’re busy and probably gonna just waste your time” You brushed off the offer

“Well,” he said, as if he was thinking of an excuse “you need to upgrade your closet, so I’m taking you to the mall and we’re gonna grab some new clothes” stuffing his hands into his pocket as he came up with an idea right on the spot

“ I’ll come along too” Nick offered “You guys need protection and that’s what I’m here for,” he said as he lifted the bottom of his shirt to reveal a pistol snug in the waistband of his pants.

“ well, excuse me!” He sassed “I don’t mean to offend you, but I have questions about your ability to pick out an outfit for me Mr. Sebastian” he said, eyeing him up and down in his usual dark clothes “ you’ll either dress me as if we’re going to funeral or a business meeting. I don’t think I fancy either one”

He nods his head and takes a second to think about his next words. His index and thumb massaging at his chin as he thought “ those shoes you are wearing are not only dirty and beat up, but are completely outdated. It’s been about four years since those had come out. You can use a different pant style to bring out your body shape more since I always see you looking at that the most. And you could use some other tops other than your crop tops and occasional hoodies and all. So let’s go.” He said scanning you from head to toe.

Your dark grey crop top and jeans with some old sneakers were your usual go to. Especially if you aren’t going anywhere special, just some shopping.

You weren’t expecting to be judged detail for detail on what you were wearing. Noah walked past you and opened the door, showing himself out after criticizing your fashion choices.

“ has he always been…..him?” You asked Nick raising a brow. He opens the door for you and lets you past first

“Him? By that do you mean the way he speaks, acts, what he says and all?” He clarified

“Mhm, my exact thought”

“ for as long as I’ve known him, yes. And believe me, we have tried to convince him to possibly change his ways maybe even ease up on the sarcasm, never works.” he chuckles as he opens the back door for you.

“Uh… if you don’t mind, can I sit in the front with you?” You asked taking a step back. no watched you from inside interested as to why you wouldn’t sit in the backseat with him

“Uh…yeah sure I don’t have an issue with it. Noah?” He asked

“Do whatever the fuck you want” he huffed as he pulls out his phone and answers some messages he was meaning to get to. Finally getting into the car Folio drove you both to the shopping area of the city. It was a Thursday afternoon, the streets were busy but not packed.

“Wouldn’t it be kinda…dumb to walk into stores with a gun folio?” You asked him

“Well… the thing is most store owners and people know who Noah is. Plus we’ve been here enough that they know exactly what I’m carting, we should be fine” he clears up. Looking into your side mirror you take notice of how quiet Noah was back there. Usually he says some thing, witty, or sarcastic but him being quiet, was a bit surprising if you were honest.

“I didn’t take Noah for the shopping type,” you comment

“Well it’s more like Noah brought some date out here so they recogn-“

“I’m a frequent shopper. That’s all you have to know on that matter” he cuts off Folio, from explaining further on. Once your in the main area of the shopping center, folio enters a parking lot. After parking the car, you’re ready to go. He opens the door for you and helps you out. Noah opens the door before Nick could get to it. You’re lead out of the parking lot by Noah and Nick and they point you to the direction of the store.

“We’ll go in here first. Change up the outfit and shoes” he nodded for a luxurious looking building , one seemed far out of your range of taste, but hey, if you was buying you weren’t complaining.

As soon as you walk in and attendant, walked towards you and greeted you both

“ Mr. Sebastian welcome back, and this must be your date ?” he shook his hand and knotted towards you with a slight bow

“My wife actually.” He corrects “Henry, we’re going to be doing some extensive shopping today so I need only your best “ he responds

“Congratulations to you both. Please follow me” Noah offers his elbow for you to take, and which you take grasp of, and let him lead you through the store. As you pass aisles, and displays of expensive jewelry, clothes, and shoes you barely paid attention to Noah, and the fact that he was watching you. You weren’t the only one still thinking about what have happened that night.

He knew about the two you had interacted with, and knew that they do nothing but cause trouble. As you were lead to the second floor of the building you were brought into a room with clothes for all kinds of occasions. They had dresses, business wear, casual, and even some lingerie.

“Would the lady like guidance or any suggestions?” Henry asked. Noah looked at you for an answer. Instead You let go of Noah and wander over to one of the dresses and felt the material, taking a glance at the price tag you, you’re eye shoot open.

“Um….maybe I’ll take a look around for a bit and get a feel of the store” you give a tight smile with a small nod

“Please call if you need anything ma’am” Henry states as he walks over to a display to fix up the mannequin. Noah notices how you eye the prices as you go through the rack, he walks up to you, his footsteps muted out by the carpet underneath his feet. He comes in proximity to you, only about a hand worth of space can fit between you both. He bends down enough to reach your left ear and says

“ stop looking at the prices, start looking at things that you like.” Your heart skips a beat, feeling the warmth of his breath against your ear. Only then, were you aware of how close he really was. Your stomach turned as his hand comes to your right one, and remove your hand from the tag and moves your hand onto the hanger instead “Grab them, go try them, come out and show me.” he said as he pointed over in the direction of the very large fitting room area. It had a platform with a spotlight in the middle of the waiting room for people to come and model what they were trying to buy.

“But-“ you try to argue back

“ no arguments. I don’t wanna hear it. Start or I’ll pick for you” he doesn’t say anything as he walks away to look at items himself. You sigh, and start picking items that had caught your eye. Be sure to look at the sizes carefully. You grab a couple of pants and shirts, and some dresses as well. You also grabbed some shoes that could compliment the dresses and outfits.

“That’s all?” Noah asked as you walked up to him with you things in hand

“Well….yeah? This is what I saw and could grab” you said catching one of the dresses as it slips from your grip.

“Henry?” Noah calls, the said man turns in the direction of his name “could you bring us some suggestions if you could. Dresses are a __, shoe size a __, and pants and skirts size ___, thank you.” He turns back to you and walks in your direction. His hands lands on your lower back and leads you to the fitting room.

“Once you’re done, come and show me” he said taking a seat in one of the cushioned chairs.

You the shut the door to the first fitting room available. Even the fitting room was glamorous. It had a tiny chandelier, and a mirror that covered the entire wall, a chair, and carpet with expensive trimming. You really started to feel out of place, of course your father had money, but even this was out of your range.

You put on the first outfit you had put together. It was a nice skirt and top set that had fit as if it were tailored to your exact measurements. You throw on some kitten heels and walk out of the room. You walk down the short hallway and out into the waiting area. Noah looks up from his phone for a second and does a double take. He’s never seen you in an outfit like this one.

“….does it look okay..?” You asked as stepped on the platform and turn in a circle, to give a full view of the outfit.

Noah pov-

“Y-yeah” I cleared my throat and sit up straight “is it a good size?” I asked and she just nods at me “alright good…uh why don’t you try on that black dress you picked? I thought it was….nice”

“You do?” She asked me seeming confused by my comment “I was doubting your fashion sense, but maybe you do have some style.” she chuckled. That had to be the first time I’ve ever seen her smile. At me at least.

“Yes. Now go try it on.” She steps down from the platform, almost unsure of herself. As soon as she shuts the door I watch as her shadow dances on the floor.

“She’s different sir…” I hear Henry walk up to me, offering me a glass of champagne. I take the offering and take a sip “you look at her differently from the other girls you’ve brought here”

“What makes you say that?” My eyes remain focused where Y/N would be coming back from

“ so when she doesn’t seem to be materialistic like the other ones you’ve brought here” he chuckles, recalling memories of past dates he’s had

“ maybe that’s right now. I’m just giving her a taste. She’ll come back for more.” I defend, knowing how those dates went and how she might end up as well.

“ But the reason why she is different is because the look you give her” he answers back, I turn my keys, finally curious as to what he meant

“ I don’t want her in any kind of way what are you talking about?”

“ oh, you’ll know soon enough, now these are the latest sets that we have brought in. Hopefully the Mrs. would like to try them on.” he ends the conversation displaying a few dresses and blouses in front of me to show me the newest arrivals to the store. I point to one and goes to get more like them.

Y/N comes back out from the fitting room, in a short dress that reaches about her mid thigh. I get a feeling in my chest, one that I didn’t really feel before. Or least have not felt in a long time. I have to admit, she really was beautiful, and anyone could see that. I have always been aware of other people’s stares. Staring at her presence in any room. I can see the reactions when I come near her. Men want her and women want to be her. But this feeling was something I never felt with other women I’ve hooked up with, or been in relationships with. Sure I’ve taken other women shopping, but it was just to get them off me for the day.

watching her twirl around a little black dress made me think and a few things I never thought I would. That day, that I shot that asshole, I did it more because of what he did and not my own entertainment.

No matter how hard I try, no matter what I’m doing, and no matter how stressed I am I can’t get the memory of that night out of my head.

“…. Who are you?” I whisper again just like I did that night. Just like she asked me that night.

Third pov

Dress after dress, and set after set. There wasn’t one that no one did not like on you. Each one of them making you look more angelic than the last. Something did catch Noah though. You were eyeing the back wall with all the lingerie was. After you were back in your normal clothes, he takes your hand and leads you to the back wall. At first you thought he was going to show you another set or possibly take you to some hidden register in the back of the store. However, you were proven wrong when you stood in front of an entire wall of sets of lingerie. All of them, Lacey, beautiful, and some with bows, and others covered and glitter.

“Oh no…. It’s nice that you’re taking me out shopping but I really don’t need a side of lingerie okay? I have underwear ready” you can feel your cheeks begin to heat up at the slight embarrassment of standing in front of the wall. Even more so now that Noah was with you. It’s not like you were embarrassed about it with him but it’s not like he would see you in it or want to see you in it….. you weren’t even sure if you wanted to see yourself in it.

“ I already caught you looking over here a couple of times. How about this you pick one and I pick one . If you don’t like it, we just leave it” he offered to you as he quickly picked one. It was red with some black lace. The one he picked that he even picked your size.

Looking at the tag, you clench your jaw “…you’re lucky it’s my size….luck bastard.” You mumble the last part. Take a good look and grab a pink set with delicate lace designs. Noah was going to walk back with you but instead you dashed off before he could say or do anything. Noah bites the inside of his cheek, feeling a heat inside his chest and back of his throat.

He felt bothered? Pissed? But he felt an urge and he didn’t know what to label it.

“Fuck.” He cursed to himself. He makes his waist swiftly over into the fitting room and knocks on the door

“Are you changed?” he asked, leaning towards the door, as if needing to be able to hear you better.

“Uh…y-yes. But I’m not ready yet!” You answer sounding unsure.

“Well hurry up…I need to speak with you” he leans on the wall next to the door as he fingers massaged his temple.

“I mean…it’s nice but I’m in…..lingerie!” You defend

“…look you don’t have to come out but at least let me see which one fit better.”

What am I saying??? He thought to himself

“Noah….i….i don’t know if I can.” You said

“Why not?”

“Because it’s….im just. It’s a beautiful piece I just…don’t know if it suits me okay?” You admit trying to get rid of him

“Y/N,” he calls you “whatever I pick is always the best fit of not perfect…..:that includes you as well. That piece counts as one of those things as well… I’m paying for it so let me it see. Now” he demanded. You hesitate to open the door, but knowing he would keep at it, you open it and slowly reveal yourself. First your head popped from the edge of the door, then your shoulder and then the rest of you. You stood under his gaze as still as you can, not daring to make eye contact with him. You could feel your palms sweating, and your heart pounding.

"look at me...." he said in a hushed tone

"..no..." you whispered

"Y/N, look at me-"

"No!" you cut him off "Ugh what the fuck is your problem Noah?!" you snap at him. His eye brows raise at your sudden outburst

"My problem? The fuck is your problem? I'm out here treating you to some shopping and now I'M the problem" he answered back as his hands land on his hips

"That's exactly the issue! Last month you were just another asshat! I meet you stupid ex who insults me for something I didn't even agree to! Then some asshole comes and harasses me, talking about you and how I didn't know who I was with...." you rant "...and they were right I have no fucking clue, who the fuck you are...and now here I am standing in some stupid lingerie with you of all people-"

Stopped in your tracks by Noah pushing you into the fitting room. He backs you into the corner, trapping you between his arms.

"Listen to me you fucking brat." he scolds you quietly "I took you because you've been avoiding me like I'm the plague. Yeah...you don't me, and yet I don't know you either, even if you're so fucking easy to read"

You both stand there in silence, your breathing.

"So why..." you asked "...why all of this? It's not like I'm someone you'd want...." you lower your graze back to the floor "...maybe it was supposed to be Denise and not me..." what were you even saying??

"And why not?" he asked as he brings your gaze back up to him. His hand grabs your jaw like he always did, but this time he was...gentle and soft...His face coming closer to yours, holding eye contact with you. This was the closest you both had been, the longest you had looked into his eyes. You notice the small freckles that littered his face. the long lashes that shielded his eyes. Those dark and mysterious orbs, seemed to be softer, more relaxed...like you were looking at somebody else.

"Because....because...." he inches closer and closer to you. His breath fanning over your lips and chin

"use your words flower," he calls you out on your stuttering, but never let's you finish as he captures your lips in a heated, and fiery kiss. His hands hold the back your head as he drags you further into his kiss. The kiss was passionate, messy and full of lust. You kiss him back with as much lust and want as him. feeling a magnetic pull towards him His lips trail from your lips to your cheek, continuing to your jaw and leading to your neck

"no...wait....stop-" he gasp trying to push him away

"Y/N...just let me-"

"Noah. Stop please...." after the second plea he stops and looks up at you "....I want to go....home. Please"

"...a-alright, I'll have Henry send this home...I" he stands up and steps back from you "I...I apologize." he clears his throat and leaves the room for you

You begin to dress yourself, your hands shaking with each article you pick up. You felt your chest squeeze and ache. Something wet drops on to your hand. Looking up to the mirror, you see your eyes water. Tears? Crying? You weren’t hurt, or scared or anything…..so why? Why?

…………

The ride home was quiet. You sat in the front seat with Nick once again, watching as the rain slammed against the windshield. The tension in the car was as thick as a concrete. Nick hadn’t stepped in knowing it may have been something serious. Your clothes would be delivered to your home sometime in the week, since you left in a hurry.

Coming up the familiar path and round the driveway. Noah gave Nick instructions as he gets out of the car with an umbrella. You see him rounding the car to come and get you, but you didn’t wait. You got out of the car in the pouring rain and walked to the door.

“Hey!” Noah calls for you “would you stop being so fucking stubborn already?”

You just ignore him and keep walking, wrapping your arms around your self as you inch towards the door.

“Y/N Sebastian!” When had he ever call you that? You finally stop and whip around. Your drenched hair sticking to your face as you stare him down. He drops the umbrella and marches to you

“Listen to me.” He stops in front of you, just as close as the last time, if not closer. “You’ve said your piece and now you hear mine.”

“Well fucking say it already! It’s not like you’re gonna make it any better” your eyebrows knit together, as that same fire from that night lit in your eyes

“You aren’t scared of me. That much is clear,” his clenched and unclenches “so what the fuck are you so afraid of? Huh?”

You take a moment as your chest heaves

“….what I’m becoming….” You answer never breaking your eyes from his

“You’ve become my wife already, get it over it” he answers you. His head lowering closer to yours once again

“Legally….im not your wife.” You sneer at him. The rain drenching you both as you stood there in a face off.

“Oh but you are..” he said in hushed but husky voice “you already answered to my name, that makes you mine.”

Your waist is pulled into his body as your lips crash once again. However, you don’t fight it this time. Your nails claw and grab at his wet clothes, as his large hands hold you as close to him as humanly possible. His arms pick you up off the group and wraps your legs around his waist. He carries you towards the mansion doors, slipping inside and closing it shut. The heavy oak doors slamming shut, sewing you both away from the storm.

̩͙‿‿༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿   ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ̩͙‿

To be continued….

[Taglist🥃] @darling-millicent-aubrey @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @cowpokeomens @fvckmeorchokeme @lizzyanthony3 @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @missduffsblog @shilohrosechicken @sorrowsofsilence @thescarlettvvitch @twyftwyt @thefallennightmare @thecartelqueen @cind6547 @niicoleleigh @lilhobgobbler @crimson-calligraphyx @notingridslurkaccount @calleyx13 @just-pretend-again @thenoahsebastianfiles @lacktoesandtoddlerants @reader13000 @badomensls @chemicaltendancies @iknownothingpeople @thebadchic @ladispo0p @samanthasgone @ada-clarence

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Thank @feral-ferrule for reminding me of this little aside. Now ya'll gotta deal with it.

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Dosing the Batch Boys: (Glitterstim)

In Disgrace (ch3) Crosshair and Tah'nyem are dosed with Glitterstim, a psychoactive variant of spice made by the spiders that live in the caves of Kessel. It lets you read minds...This results in their minds slamming together in new an confusing ways, which is fun for their chapter but it even occurs to them that it might be even funner in bed, let's explore that a little.

Though glitterstim is canon it's underutilized and definitely not utilized the way that I do, so this is very HC based. We're also going to assume that the drug doesn't affect the health of the boys in anyway. (Echo, sweetie I worry about you other wise.)

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Hunter-

I think what would get Hunter off the most about being in your brain is the complete confirmation that all of your praise is genuine. All the boys might be surprised at just how attracted clonethirst girlies are to them but Hunter is particularly susceptible to the flattery of it. Ego boosted, the next aspect he would utilize is the direct feedback for how pleasurable his actions were. You'd probably not get to actively participate as much because he would get wrapped up in feeling what heights he could drive you to.

Wrecker-*let me in meme goes here*

What is going on in there? I can only imagine Wrecker's brain being a kind of messy place, sparks flying back and forth, complex equations drawn in crayon... What would be hot about it is just how overwhelmed with his emotions you would get. With practice he might be able to hold back but without it your brain is getting flooded. Joy, exuberance, and of course the sexual pleasure on a feedback loop. Actually, don't do this with Wrecker, you two are gonna fry.

Echo-

You'd have to ease Echo into this, he'd feel a little self conscious that you might feel any discomfort his implants and prosthetics might cause him, and you would, but having that open map would guide you to new ways to comfort him and make him feel good. He'd also find himself enjoying a type of relief basking in your mind. Like Hunter, he'd be enamored with feeling what he does to you and would try to heighten your experience more than focusing on himself.

Crosshair-

Cross isn't a selfish lover, but unlike Hunter and Echo he's very of the mindset that pleasure is a two way street. He'd more than likely take advantage of the connection by doing things that are mutually beneficial and might yield crazy results via feedback a la 69ing. More closed off and focused, Crosshair would have more control over holding your mind on task, easily keeping you away from parts of him he wouldn't want you to see.

Tech-

Where do I start?

Absolute dog shit at staying on task, once you let this little gremlin loose in your brain he'll start to rip you apart like an engine. Good luck keeping him out of your deepest darkest secrets, your half forgotten ruminations, dreams, and whatever other threads he gets his hands on. Not like it'd be much better, but you can also step into the whirring whirlwind resting in his brain pan. A single calculated thought releases so much mental energy you're floored immediately. There's not even sex yet, and since you'd be a helpless kitten of an rc car hooked up to the power of a jet engine you might as well let him run wild kriffing you within full efficiency.

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Not that it moves the plot much besides being way too comfortable with each other too quickly, there are lasting effects of the Glitterstim on CrossXTahny.

She never gets a clean slate with the rest of the Batch Boys since she was exposed quite strongly to Crosshair's opinions of them. His opinions of them directly after Kamino. Yeah.

Also more of a fun fact, in case of alternative dimension shenanigans, Tahny would always be able to pick her Crosshair out of a line up. Even if it's between other Crosshair's that had Glitterstim experiences with other Tah'nyems.

Kids got little tan lines in the shape of each other burned into their brains.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 24 Chapter 24 | sweet sixteen⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The stadium buzzed with energy as the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the arena. The echoes of laughter and cheers filled the air as the recreational activities drew to a close, leaving the audience in high spirits.

The side games had been a whirlwind of fun and competition, with students from all courses showcasing their unique talents and quirks in a variety of mini-events.

Present Mic's voice crackled through the speakers, his enthusiasm infectious. "[Yo, yo, yo! Ladies and gentlemen, let's give it up for our incredible students who rocked the side games! We saw some wild moves, crazy quirks, and epic fun! But now, it's time to shift gears and turn up the heat! Are you ready for the main event?!]"

The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable as they eagerly awaited the next phase of the festival.

"[Alright, heroes and future pros, feast your eyes on the scoreboard! Here are the lucky contestants moving on to the One-on-One Fighting Tournament! Drum roll, please!]"

With a dramatic flourish, the large video screen above the stadium flickered to life, displaying the names and faces of the fourteen students who had qualified for the tournament. The names were listed in order of their team rankings from the Cavalry Battle.

_Scoreboard_

1st Place ~ Team Todoroki: 1.Todoroki Shoto 2.Kaminari Denki 3.Yaoyorozu Momo 4.Iida Tenya

2nd Place ~ Team Bakugo: 5.Bakugo Katsuki 6.Ashido Mina 7.Sero Hanta 8.Kirishima Eijiro

3rd Place ~ Team Shinso: 9.Shinso Hitoshi 10.Akuma ____

4th Place ~ Team Midoriya: 11.Midoriya Izuku 12.Tokoyami Fumikage 13.Uraraka Ochaco 14.Hatsume Mei

Present Mic leaned forward, peering dramatically at the screen before spinning around to face the audience, slamming both hands down on the announcer's desk, causing a loud thud that echoed through the stadium. "[Wait a minute, folks! I'm counting fourteen contestants! That's...hold on...14!? That's not quite enough for a full bracket! Does this mean we'll have to pit the two strongest fighters against each other for double the action? Double the elimination?! What ever shall we do??]" The man gasped into the mic before turning his attention to his colleague. "[Hey Midnight! Is there any way we can we add more fire to this showdown?? Maybe get more contenders in here? I want this tournament to last longer, and I know you all do too!]"

The camera panned to Midnight, who stood near the center of the field. With a sly smile, she cracked her whip, the sharp crack reverberating through the arena. "I see no reason why we shouldn't spice things up a bit. Let's allow the next two highest-scoring students to join the fray and make this a sweet sixteen!"

The screen updated, adding two new names to the list of contestants:

15.Shiozaki Ibara 16.Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu

You exhaled deeply as you left the restroom, relieved to finally be out of the cheerleading outfit and back into the Sports' Festival unfirm. As you walked back towards the stadium, the muffled cheers and Present Mic's amplified voice filtered through the walls, growing louder with each step.

"[And there you have it, folks! Welcome Shiozaki Ibara and Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu to the tournament! Now that's what I call a proper lineup! Are you ready to see these heroes-in-training throw down? This is gonna be EPIC! Grab your popcorn, your soda, and get comfy, because we're about to witness some serious action!]"

You paused at the entrance to the seating area, glancing up at the large screen that displayed the newly updated tournament bracket. The addition of Shiozaki and Tetsutetsu brought the total number of contestants to sixteen, ensuring a full and balanced competition.

Just as you were about to head to your class's designated section, a familiar voice called out to you.

"Hey, Akuma-san!" You turned to see Kirishima jogging towards you, his face lighting up with excitement as he caught up. "Did you hear? Midoriya's up next!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with anticipation.

You forced a polite smile, concealing your growing annoyance.  Biting back the urge to snap. Instead, you nodded, your tone measured. "Oh? Well, can't miss that, can we? If you'll excuse—" Before you could finish excusing yourself to your class's section, Ashido's high-pitched squeal reached your ears. "Akuma-san, over here!" She bounded over, her eyes sparkling with excitement, followed closely by Sero and Kaminari.

Ashido, grabbing your hand, "C'mon, you can sit with us to watch! It'll be so much fun!" She began pulling you towards their section before you could utter a word of protest.

Sero chimed in, a playful grin on his face: "Yeah, Akuma-san, it'll be way more interesting with you there."

"Besides, who wouldn't want to watch a match with such a captivating view?" Kaminari adds with a wink, causing Ashido to roll her eyes.

Despite your mild annoyance, you allowed yourself to be guided to the stands, settling into a seat between Ashido and Ojiro. You glanced around, noting the large screen displayed the details of the upcoming fight.

Midoriya and Shinso stood at opposite ends of the arena, their expressions a mix of determination and focus. The crowd's murmurs hushed as the anticipation built, all eyes on the two contestants.

"[Welcome to the first match of the finals tournament! It's Midoriya Izuku from the hero course versus Shinso Hitoshi from general studies! The rules are simple: immobilize your opponent or force them outta the ring! You can also win by getting the other person to cry uncle. Let's get ready to rumble!]"

The crowd erupted in cheers as Midnight raised her whip, signaling the start of the match.

"[Ready? Begin!]"

You watched intently as Midoriya and Shinso faced each other. Then, Midoriya's body suddenly went rigid, his eyes widening in shock as he froze in place.

Ojiro, beside you, leaned in, whispering urgently, "I warned him not to say anything!"

"[The fight has just begun and Midoriya Izuku is... completely frozen? He's not moving a muscle! What's with that look on his face? Could this be a Quirk at work? Shinso seems to have Midoriya completely stunned! He didn't stand out in the first rounds at all, but it's possible Hitoshi's crazy powerful! Who could've imagined this turn of events? That's the Festival for ya! Ha-ha!]"

You narrowed your eyes, focusing on Shinso's calm, almost smug expression as he began to circle the frozen Midoriya, a smirk playing on his lips, "You're lucky to have been so blessed, Midoriya Izuku. Now turn around and walk out of bounds like the good little hero you are."

Midoriya's body obeyed, his movements robotic as he began to walk towards the edge of the ring. The crowd gasped, and you could feel the tension in the air as everyone watched in disbelief.

"[Uh—What?! Ah! Midoriya's obeying him! And there you have it! Shinso Hitoshi! His Quirk: Brainwashing! When an opponent answers his question, it flips a switch in their minds, forcing them to do whatever he says. Not every question does it, though. He only brainwashes when he wants to. Not very flashy...]"

Aizawa's calm, analytical voice cut through Present Mic's excitement. "[This is a perfect example of why the entrance exam isn't rational.]"

"[Huh? Why's that, Eraser?]"

"[Since we're on to the individual matches, I had some information compiled about our final competitors. Shinso failed the practical exam to get into the hero course. Since he also applied for general studies, he probably figured that would happen. His Quirk is incredibly strong, but that entrance test consisted of fighting faux villains. Robots. It gave a huge advantage to those who had physical superpowers they could show off.]" Aizawa continued, his tone measured: "[Despite his abilities, Shinso never stood a chance at passing.]"

You watched as Midoriya's feet edged closer to the boundary, his eyes wide with panic. His internal struggle was evident, and you could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he tried to resist.

.☆.          .✩.                   .☆.

Midoriya's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and frustration as he struggled against the invisible chains binding his will.

What's happening? My body's moving on its own. I feel like my brain is full of fog. I can't concentrate. No! Not like this. Gotta stop! Dammit!

Desperation clawed at him, and he fought to recall Ojiro's warning about Shinsou's Quirk. The memory was hazy, slipping through his grasp like sand, but the urgency of the situation sharpened his focus.

I fell for it, even after Ojiro warned me about his power. I'm an idiot. This is all my fault!

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

In the bustling halls of the Sports Festival's recreational area, Ojiro leaned closer to Midoriya, his expression serious as he recounted his experience with Shinso. "His Quirk is that he can control other people. It's powerful, but he can't use it unless you answer his questions. He didn't get into my head until I responded to something he said."

Midoriya's eyes wide with concern. "So I have to be careful not to say anything, or I'll lose for sure."

Ojiro nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Well, not exactly. Even if he gets you, there's still a chance. At the beginning of the cavalry battle, after he approached me, I don't remember anything until I bumped into another person. It was like I woke up, and suddenly I could think clearly."

"So that bump broke his hold?"

"Maybe. It's only a guess, but it's something to keep in mind."

Midoriya's eyes darted around, searching for anything that could jolt his body back under his own control. His feet continued their march towards the edge, each step bringing him closer to disqualification.

Even in the faced of disqualification, Midoriya couldn't help but analyze his situation: Still... I don't know how much of a shock it would take to break his spell. And in a one-on-one match, I can't count on an outside force intervening to help me.

The only part of his body under his control were his eyes, and he scanned the crowd, his gaze lingering on familiar faces. Each person he saw, each pair of worried eyes, felt like a weight pressing down on him. He was letting them down. He was letting everyone down.

I can't stop it. I'm going to lose. It's all over. Even though... so many people are counting on me... Everyone is watching... Everyone!

As despair gripped his heart, his eyes finally landed on you. Your gaze met his, and for a brief, electric moment, everything else faded away. Your lips moved, forming a single, commanding word: "Move."

A jolt of clarity shot through him, igniting a spark of defiance in his chest. His heart pounded in his ears, and the fog clouding his mind seemed to lift, replaced by the fierce determination in your eyes.

What... is... that? Wait.

Shinso paced behind Midoriya, his voice dripping with mockery. He watched Midoriya's struggle with a cold satisfaction, convinced of his impending victory. "Even with a Quirk like this, I have my own dreams of becoming a great hero. So, lose for me."

The edge of the platform loomed closer, the boundary line a stark reminder of his precarious situation. Just as his foot hovered above the line, Midoriya's eyes widened in sudden clarity. In a desperate act of defiance, he summoned all his strength and snapped his own fingers, the sharp crack resonating through the arena.

Present Mic's voice rose in excitement at the spectacle. "[What's this? Midoriya stopped just in time!]"

The crowd erupted into cheers, their relief and exhilaration echoing through the stadium.

Aizawa, his eyes narrowing with interest, saying. "[His finger. He broke one in order to stop Shinso.]"

Pain seared through Midoriya's hand, but his mind was clear, his resolve unwavering. He flexed his finger, the agony grounding him in reality.

Shinso's smug expression dissolved into shock and disbelief. His eyes widened as he took a step back, the confidence in his stance faltering. "No. Impossible. You're not supposed to be able to fight back! What did you do?"

Midoriya's gaze locked onto Shinso, his eyes blazing with determination. Though instead of answering vocally, all he did was raise a brow.

Internally, Midoriya didn't have an answer for the purplenette—noy yet anyways. All he knows is that something extraordinary just happened. I'm certain I'm the one who used One For All. But I'm not the one who moved my fingers just now. It was like someone I didn't know came into my mind. And for a second, it was clear. Could it be—Later. I don't have time to figure things out right now. I have to focus.

Panic flickered in Shinso's eyes as he glanced towards the crowd. His gaze landed on you, and he saw the bored, almost dismissive expression on your face. A flicker of panic crossed his features, desperation clawing at him. He won't answer. Did he figure it out? No. He's known. That damn dog-monkey must have told him. I have to get him to talk again.

Desperation tinged his voice as he tried to provoke a response from Midoriya. "Come on, say something. I didn't know you had so much power in your fingers. I'm kind of jealous of you."

Midoriya's resolve hardened, his thoughts a whirlwind of determination and empathy. I know what that jealousy feels like. I've been there.

Shinso scoffs at the lack of an answer, his voice bitter. "Thanks to the way my Quirk works, I've always been at a big disadvantage. But someone as blessed as you wouldn't understand that."

I get it. Even though he's right. I have been blessed.

Shinso's frustration mounted, his voice laced with bitterness and desperation. "You're lucky enough to have a heroic Quirk! It'll be so easy for you to reach your goal!"

Midoriya's eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of understanding passing over his face. I've been blessed by others. That's why I'm here!

Shinso's voice rose to a shout, his desperation evident. "Say something, dammit!"

Midoriya's  resolve crystallized, eyes blazing with determination. Still...I can't lose this. I'll do it for her...for them!

Shinsou's frustration boiled over, his voice cracking with anger. "You've gotta be kidding me! Get out of this ring, you lucky brat!"

With a fierce cry, Midoriya surged forward, his fist connecting with Shinso's chest in a powerful punch. The impact sent Shinso sprawling out of bounds, his body hitting the ground with a thud.

Midnight's voice rings out over the cheers of the crowd. "Shinso is out of bounds! Midoriya advances to the next match!"

"[And with that expertly performed throw, we have our first victor of the finals! Class -A's Midoriya Izuku!]"

The stadium erupted in cheers, the roar of the crowd a thunderous wave of excitement. Midoriya stood at the center of the ring, his chest heaving with exertion, but his eyes were bright with triumph. He glanced around, taking in the overwhelming support from the audience, a mix of relief and exhilaration washing over him.

He looked up at the stands, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment. You gave a small, approving nod, acknowledging his victory before quickly scurrying to sit with your classmates before Ashido and the others noticed.

"[He focused his power like he did in the fitness test and used the throw from combat training. It's not just that he's learning from his experiences: he's using every trick he's picked up to improve his odds.]" Aizawa noted with a professional flare.

Present Mic nodded enthusiastically, his grin wide as he continued his commentary. "[Oh, yeah! That was actually kind of a boring first match, kids. But both of you fought bravely. Let's show them some love, everyone!]"

The applause swelled, a sea of clapping hands and cheering voices celebrating the efforts of both competitors. Midoriya's gaze flickered towards Shinso, who was still on the ground, a mix of defeat and frustration etched across his features. Shinso slowly got to his feet, his eyes downcast, but he squared his shoulders, accepting his defeat with a grim determination.

As Midoriya walked back towards the waiting area, the crowd's cheers continued to resonate, the excitement of the tournament reaching new heights. The first battle had set the tone for the intense and unpredictable matches to come, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation for what lay ahead.

☆

☆

Seated amongst your classmates—with you strategically seated between Kendo and Monoma—because, according to the blonde, it's to ensure safety from the "fake 1-A heroes from stealing you away," you watched as the seats around you buzzed with energy, your classmates' excitement palpable as they eagerly awaited the next match.

Suddenly, Present Mic's voice boomed across the stadium, drawing everyone's attention back to the arena. "[Enough standing around. Now welcome to the ring, our next players!]"

The spotlight swung to the center of the arena, illuminating Todoroki Shoto and Sero Hanta as they stepped onto the platform. The contrast between their expressions was stark—Sero's nervous determination clashed with Todoroki's cool, impassive demeanor.

"[He's got skills! But at the expense of some really creepy-looking elbows. From the Hero Course, it's Sero Hanta!]"

"That was uncalled for," Sero muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a wry grin.

"[Versus an early frontrunner in the competition who's way too strong for his own good! Someone who rightfully got into the Hero Course based on recommendations! It's Todoroki Shoto!]"

The crowd's cheers swelled as Todoroki's name was announced, a mixture of awe and anticipation rippling through the spectators. You leaned forward slightly, your eyes narrowing as you focused on the two competitors.

"[And now, for the second match of the finals. Ready?]"

Sero scratched the back of his neck, staring back at Todoroki's blank face. "Well, I don't really feel—"

Present Mic cut the teen off, shouting, "[Begin!]"

"—like I can win this fight. But, man—" Sero didn't waste a second, launching into his attack with a swift, decisive movement. His tape shot out, wrapping around Todoroki with a practiced precision, his face set in a determined grimace. "—I don't feel like losing, either!"

"[That attack could throw his opponent out of bounds! A brilliant, surprise opening from the underdog! Way to start off strong, Sero!]" Present Mic announces.

The tape wrapped tightly around Todoroki, and tried Sero pulling with all his might. For a moment, it seemed like his strategy might succeed, but with a sudden, precise movement, Todoroki used his feet to freeze the ground beneath him.

The ice spread rapidly, creating a shockwave that sent a burst of cold air rippling through the arena. Sero's eyes widened as he struggled to maintain his grip, the ice forming faster than he could react.

"Is that... an earthquake? What the heck is goin' on?" Monoma muttered beside you with wide eyes.

The ice attack created a massive wave, quickly encompassing Sero. The cold bit into his skin, freezing him in place as the ice continued to spread, leaving half the entire festival arena encased in a shimmering, frozen expanse.

"Holy crap." Sero's voice was muffled by the ice, a mixture of frustration and resignation evident as he managed a weak response. "Um... Don't you think you went overboard?"

Midnight, standing on the edge of the frozen section, raised her whip to get the crowd's attention. "Tell the truth, Sero. Can you move at all?"

"Are you kidding? Obviously not. My body is freezing!"

The crowd gasped, the magnitude of Todoroki's ice attack sinking in. The spectacle left the audience in awe, their cheers mingling with murmurs of astonishment.

Midnight swung her whip in the air with a resounding whack. "It's official. Sero has been immobilized! Todoroki advances to the second round!"

The announcement echoed through the stadium, the cheers intensifying as the reality of Todoroki's power set in. The audience erupted into applause, a chorus of "Nice try!" reverberating through the stands.

Todoroki turned to walk away, but not before throwing Sero a quick apology over his shoulder. "Sorry about that. It was a bit much. I was angry, is all."

You watched Todoroki as he left the arena, his expression unchanged despite the overwhelming display of power. The intensity of his attack and the ease with which he had executed it left a lasting impression, a clear testament to his capabilities.

Sometime after Todoroki's icy aftermath melted away, Present Mic's booming voice echoed across the stadium, rallying the crowd for the next battle. "[And now, let's welcome our next competitors! This match promises to be a real shocker!]"

The spotlight shifted, illuminating the next contenders as they stepped onto the stage. On one side was Kaminari Denki, a confident grin plastered across his face. Opposite him stood Shiozaki Ibara, her calm demeanor contrasting with the electricity crackling in the air around Kaminari.

"[Ready for a jolt? From the Hero Course, it's Kaminari Denki! And his opponent, bringing the power of nature itself, it's Shiozaki Ibara from Class 1-B!]"

Kaminari shot a cocky smile at Shiozaki, his confidence almost palpable. "Hey, Shiozaki! How about we grab a bite to eat after this match? You know, to comfort you after your inevitable loss." He chuckled, his eyes sparking with mischief. "This match is gonna be over in seconds."

Shiozaki's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression serene but resolute. She turned away from Kaminari, her hair coiling around her like a protective shield.

"[Oooh~, someone's got confidence! Let's see if Kaminari's got what it takes!]"

The starting signal blared, and Kaminari wasted no time, electricity surging through him as he prepared to unleash his attack. "Indiscriminate Shock: 1.3 Million Volts!"

Electricity crackled and surged from Kaminari, the air around him shimmering with the raw power of his Quirk. The crowd gasped, the sheer magnitude of his attack electrifying the atmosphere. The bolts of lightning arced towards Ibara, threatening to engulf her.

However, Shiozaki remained unfazed. With a fluid, almost graceful movement, she commanded her vine-like hair to form a protective barrier around her. "Shield!" The vines wove together, creating a thick shield that absorbed the brunt of Kaminari's attack.

The electricity sizzled and sparked against the vines, but Shiozaki's shield held strong. Kaminari's confident grin faltered as he watched his attack dissipate harmlessly.

"[Whoa! Shiozaki's not going down without a fight! Look at that defense!]"

As the last of Kaminari's electricity fizzled out, he stumbled, his usual cocky expression replaced by a vacant, dopey grin. His attack had backfired, leaving him in his infamous 'dumb state.' "Heh, I think I overdid it..."

Shiozaki seized the opportunity, her vines snapping forward with swift precision. They coiled around Kaminari, lifting him off the ground and suspending him in mid-air. His arms and legs were bound, rendering him completely immobile.

Shiozakis voice was calm, almost gentle as she addressed her opponent. "May the Lord forgive your sins, Kaminari-san."

With a flick of her wrist, the vines tightened, securing Kaminari in place. He dangled helplessly, a bewildered smile plastered on his face as he struggled against the restraints.

"[And there you have it! Shiozaki's defense and counterattack have Kaminari wrapped up—literally!]"

Midnight, still chilled from the lingering effects of Todoroki's earlier attack, stepped forward, her whip cracking sharply in the air. "Kaminari Denki is immobilized! Shiozaki Ibara wins!"

The crowd erupted in applause, cheers mingling with laughter at the unexpected outcome. In the stands, Tetsutetsu leaped to his feet, pumping his fists in the air. "Yeah! That's how you do it, Shiozaki! Show them what Class 1-B is made of!"

Monoma, not missing a beat, leaned over the railing, his voice dripping with mockery as he taunted the Hero Course students. "See that, 1-A? That's how a real hero fights! Too bad your electric wonder boy couldn't keep up!"

You glanced at Kendo out of the corner of your eye. Seeing this, your Vice-President's hand shot out and delivered a swift chop to the back of his neck.

Monoma yelped, holding the sore spot. "Hey, what was—"

"Enough, Monoma. Let's show some class," Kendo hissed with narrowed eyes before falling silent.

Monoma grumbled, rubbing his neck, but reluctantly fell silent. You couldn't help but smirk at the exchange, finding it amusing no matter how often it occurs.

The excitement in the stadium didn't wane as the next match was announced. "[Alright, folks, let's keep this momentum going! Up next, we've got a match that's sure to be full of surprises!]"

The spotlight shifted once more, illuminating Iida Tenya and Hatsume Mei as they took their positions on the stage. Iida stood tall, his posture rigid with determination, while Hatsume's eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement.

"[From the Hero Course, it's the speedster himself, Iida Tenya! And his opponent, ready to dazzle us with her gadgets, from the Support Course, it's Hatsume Mei!]"

The signal to start blared, and Iida immediately launched into action, his engines roaring to life as he sprinted towards Hatsume with impressive speed. "Prepare yourself, Hatsume-san! I will not hold back!"

Hatsume, however, seemed completely unfazed by Iida's aggressive approach. She activated her microphone, her voice cheerful and informative as she addressed the crowd. "Hello, everyone! Check this out—these leg braces I designed for Iida-kun here improve his mobility by 25%! Watch how he moves!"

Iida, taken aback by her casual demeanor, stumbled slightly but quickly regained his composure. He pressed forward, determined to close the distance between them. "What are you—?"

Before he could finish, Hatsume's backpack whirred to life, hydraulic attachments propelling her out of his reach with a smooth, mechanical efficiency.

"[Whoa! Did you see that, Eraser!? Hatsume's got some tricks up her sleeves!]"

As Iida attempted to adapt, Hatsume's voice continued, her excitement infectious as she demonstrated her gadgets. "And that's not all! These hydraulic attachments allow me to maneuver with ease! Oh, and let's not forget the Auto Balancers—watch how they keep Iida-kun from falling!"

Iida tried to use her distraction to his advantage, but Hatsume's backpack sensors detected his approach, activating the hydraulic attachments once more to evade him. He stumbled over the devices, but the Auto Balancers kicked in, preventing him from falling and redirecting him back towards her.

"[Looks like Hatsume's turned this match into a full-on gadget showcase!]"

"[This isn't a commercial, Hatsume-san,]" Aizawa grumbled, a complete 180 from his co-host's attitude.

Frustration etched across Iida's face as he charged again, demanding a fair fight. "Hatsume-san! Stop using your gadgets as distractions and fight me properly!" 

Hatsume, her enthusiasm undeterred, evaded him once more, using her Electromagnetic Soles to glide smoothly across the stage. "But I am fighting! I'm showcasing my inventions! Look at these Electromagnetic Soles—they allow me to evade with precision!"

Iida's patience was wearing thin as he made another attempt to close the gap, but Hatsume was ready. She pulled out a Capture Gun, firing a net that ensnared Iida, immobilizing him.

"[Iida's caught in a net! What a turn of events!]"

Hatsume turned her attention to the support companies in the crowd, introducing herself with a confident smile. "I'm Hatsume Mei, and I hope you're impressed with my babies! There's more where these came from!"

For the next ten minutes, Hatsume continued to demonstrate her gadgets, much to the chagrin of Iida, who struggled futilely against the net. The crowd, initially baffled, soon found themselves entertained by her relentless enthusiasm.

Eventually, Hatsume walked out of the ring, her objective clearly met.

Midnight's whip cracked in the air, bringing the match to a close. "Hatsume Mei has stepped out of bounds! Iida Tenya is the winner!"

The audience's applause was a mix of confusion and amusement. Iida, despite his victory, looked thoroughly exasperated. "Hatsume-san! You used me as a prop!"

"I'm sorry, Iida-kun! But it worked, didn't it?" Hatsume giggled with a shrug of her shoulders.

Iida's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "I hate you."

Hatsume's apology, while technically present, lacked any real remorse, her attention already shifting to her next invention. "Oh~ I can totally create an 'I-hate-you-inator'! It'll track and detect levels of dislike/hatred surrounding the chosen subject..." As you watched Hatsume leave the ring, her nonchalant acceptance of her own defeat and eagerness to advertise her gadgets leaving the crowd in a mix of awe and confusion, you knew your turn was coming up.

You brushed off your uniform as you stood, smoothing out any wrinkles as you prepared yourself mentally.

Your classmates were abuzz with excitement, their voices blending into a harmonious cheer of encouragement.

"Akuma-san, knock 'em dead!"

"Yeah! You got this!"

"Show them 1-B's no second choice!"

Kendo's eyes sparkled with pride, and she gave you a thumbs-up. Tsuburaba and Shiozaki exchanged nods of support. Monoma, always the dramatic one, quickly grasped one of your hands just before you walked away.

"You got this, President!" he said, his voice filled with earnest admiration and a touch of nervous energy. His grip was firm but comforting, a tangible reminder of your classmates' support.

You hummed softly, your lips twitching in disgust at his bold actions. "Thank you, Monoma-kun," you replied, bowing your head in acknowledgment.

The walk to the arena felt like stepping into a different world. The stadium lights bore down on you, their brightness creating stark contrasts and sharp shadows on the ground. The camera flashes were relentless, capturing every moment, every expression, adding to the almost surreal atmosphere. The roar of the crowd was a constant backdrop, a symphony of cheers and excitement that filled the air with palpable energy.

Stepping into the battle ring, you felt the coolness of the arena floor beneath your feet. The space seemed to expand around you, the vastness of the stadium a stark reminder of the scale of the event.

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself amidst the sensory overload. The anticipation was electric, charging the air with a tangible tension as the crowd awaited the start of the match.

Across from you, Ashido bounced on her feet, her eyes alight with excitement. Her pink skin glistened under the stadium lights, and her smile was infectious. She seemed more like a cheerleader than a combatant, her enthusiasm almost childlike in its intensity.

"I can't wait to see your fighting style, Akuma-san!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with eagerness. "Is it like hand-to-hand combat? Or do you have some cool surprise moves up your sleeve? I'm so excited! I trained with my classmates during the Battle Trial, so I know some of their weaknesses, but I have no idea what to expect from you!"

Her questions came in a rapid stream, each one layered with genuine curiosity and a dash of anticipation. You could see the light in her eyes, a sparkle that made her excitement almost contagious.

Present Mic's voice boomed overhead, adding a humorous commentary to the situation. "[Wow, she's not taking this seriously at all!]"

"[Ashido admittedly does have a major issue with her attention span,]" Aizawa sighed.

The contrast between her playful energy and the serious tone of the match was almost comical.

Without a word, you began to walk towards her, your steps measured and deliberate. Ashido's eyes widened as she watched you approach, her questions spilling out even faster. "Oh my gods, what are you going to do? Is this some secret technique? Are you going to—"

You reached out, gently but firmly placing your hands on her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and a hint of surprise.

With a steady, unyielding push, you guided her backwards. Each step you took brought her closer to the edge of the ring, her surprise morphing into confusion and then realization.

Quickly, Ashido managed to drop and roll away from your push, her reflexes sharp despite the playful demeanor she had displayed moments before. Springing to her feet, she grinned, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Whoops! Almost let you get me!"

Her eyes gleamed with a newfound intensity, the playful spark replaced by a keen focus. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and Ashido's entire demeanor shifted from bubbly excitement to concentrated determination.

With a swift, fluid motion, she squatted down and secreted acid from her feet. The corrosive substance sizzled as it hit the ground, and she used it to propel herself forward, sliding across the stage with surprising speed. Her movement was almost serpentine, a blend of agility and precision that cut through the air with grace.

For a moment, you considered dodging her attack, calculating the trajectory and speed at which she was approaching. But then, in a split-second decision, you chose not to evade. You let her come closer, her approach like a tidal wave of energy and intent.

As Ashido reached you, you executed a half-hearted roundhouse kick, your movements precise yet deliberately leaving yourself open. To anyone else, it would have looked like a full attempt to strike, but you knew better. It was a calculated risk, a feint meant to draw her in.

Ashido, her instincts sharp, ducked just in time, her eyes widening as she saw the opening. She lunged forward, aiming a strong uppercut at your side. Her fist brushed past your face, the force of the strike just grazing your skin.

You turned with the motion, making her miss entirely, and quickly grasped both of her arms in a firm hold. The action was fluid, almost too smooth, and before she could react, you had effectively locked her in place. Your grip was steady but not overly harsh, a testament to your control over the situation.

Ashido blinked, her concentration breaking for a brief moment. Her eyes sparkled with genuine admiration as she squealed, "No way, that was so cool! How did you dodge that!? I spent weeks perfecting this move..." Her words tumbled out in a rapid stream, her excitement and curiosity spilling over. She seemed almost oblivious to her current predicament, more fascinated by the mechanics of the fight than by the fact that she was restrained.

You sighed inwardly, recognizing that this conversation would likely continue unless you intervened. You glanced over her shoulder, assessing your position in the ring. To your advantage, you noticed that you were right on the edge of the platform. The realization sparked a quick plan in your mind.

Taking advantage of her distraction, you pushed her gently but firmly over the edge. Ashido, still caught up in her enthusiastic rambling, barely registered the movement until it was too late. She stumbled backward, her eyes widening in surprise as she tumbled off the platform.

Midnight's whip cracked through the air, the sound sharp and commanding. "Ashido Mina is out of bounds! Akuma ____ is the winner!"

The crowd erupted in a mixture of laughter and applause, the unexpected simplicity of your victory catching them off guard once again. Present Mic's voice echoed overhead, his tone a blend of amusement and commentary. "[And with Ashido going down embarrassingly easy, that's one win for Akuma!]"

You stood at the edge of the ring, watching as Ashido picked herself up, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. Her enthusiasm was undiminished, and she waved cheerfully at you. "Good job, Akuma-san! That was really clever!"

You nodded politely, acknowledging her words with a small smile. The lights of the arena glinted off the metal rails, and the cheers of the crowd formed a backdrop of noise and excitement. The thrill of the fight, coupled with the simplicity of your victory, left a sense of satisfaction bubbling within you.

As you walked back towards the waiting area, you could feel the energy of the stadium humming around you, a tangible reminder of the intensity and spectacle of the U.A. Sports Festival.

Instead of heading directly to the stands, you decided to make a detour. A thought had been simmering in the back of your mind, urging you to check in on someone else preparing for his battle.

Turning down a quieter corridor, you made your way towards Bakugo's waiting room. The muffled sounds of the ongoing fight between Tokoyami and Yaoyorozu filtered through the walls, a reminder of the relentless pace of the tournament.

You reached the door, noticing a small TV mounted on the wall inside, showcasing the current fight. Without hesitation, you pushed it open slightly, causing the door to creak. Bakugo's head snapped up, a snarl already forming on his lips. "I said I didn't want anyone bothering me—" His sentence abruptly cut off as he saw it was you standing there.

A brow arched, you let a smile tug at your lips. "Oh? Should I return later?"

For a moment, Bakugo's expression softened, and he quickly stood, a mix of surprise and something else flickering across his features. "____," he said softly, your name a contrast to his usual gruff tone.

You stepped inside, letting the door close behind you. "I was just stopping by to see how you were faring so far," you said, your gaze steady on his.

Bakugo's jaw tightened, and he was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were gathering his thoughts. "I'm gonna win," he finally said, his voice low but resolute. "But I want you to advance to the final round."

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I wanna fight you," he blurted out, the words hanging in the air between you. The proclamation seemed to take both of you by surprise, and your brows raised in unison.

"Who knew you had it out for me," you replied, your tone light but your eyes searching his face for deeper meaning.

Bakugo rolled his eyes, a grunt of frustration escaping him. "It's not that," he muttered, his gaze darting away. "It's just..."

You leaned forward slightly, prompting him. "Just what?"

For a moment, Bakugo's eyes met yours, a turbulent mix of emotions swirling within them. His mind raced, a thousand thoughts tumbling over each other. Internally, he struggled with the desire to prove his strength to you, to show that he could be someone you could rely on, someone strong enough to protect you. But the words tangled in his throat, refusing to form.

Instead, he scoffed, the sound more of a deflection than an answer. "Just wanna see how strong you really are," he grumbled, the excuse hanging weakly between you.

Before you could respond, the small TV in the upper corner caught your attention. Present Mic's voice boomed from the screen, announcing the end of the current match. "[Tokoyami Fumikage takes the win! Up next, it's the battle of steel vs. stone: Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu versus Kirishima Eijiro! Stay tuned, folks!]"

The fight on the screen transitioned to show Tetsutetsu and Kirishima entering the arena, their faces set with determination.

Realizing the conversation had run its course, you turned towards the door. "Good luck with your match," you said over your shoulder.

Bakugo scoffed again, his bravado slipping back into place like a well-worn mask. "Not worried about Round-Face," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

You paused at the doorway, casting a glance back at him. "You should be," you said, your voice carrying a quiet warning. With that, you slipped out, the door clicking softly shut behind you.

As you left Bakugo's room, the air seemed to crackle with the anticipation of the upcoming battles. The faint sounds of the stadium crowd echoed through the hallways, a constant reminder of the spectacle unfolding just outside.

Your steps were steady as you made your way back to your class section, a mixture of determination and contemplation playing across your mind.

You were only a few steps away from the arena entrance when a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. "Akuma-san," Todoroki called out, his tone calm yet insistent. You turned to find him standing a short distance away, his expression serious.

"Yes?" you replied, arching an eyebrow. His demeanor was different, more introspective than usual.

"Could we speak for a moment?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of objection.

Intrigued, you nodded and followed him as he led you to a large glass window that overlooked a portion of the stadium-lobby. Below, hundreds of citizens milled about, buying merchandise and food, their faces lit up with excitement.

Yet you stared down at the crowd, a dark cloud of disdain crept into your thoughts. They looked like tiny, insignificant ants. 

The stark difference between these humans and those you encountered in your previous life struck you with a jarring clarity.

In that world, power and control were everything. Manipulations, grandiose battles, and the constant struggle for dominance defined your existence.

Every interaction held weight, every move was a calculated step in a larger game. Here, in contrast, the crowd's self-righteousness and superficial concerns disgusted you.

They believed in their own moral superiority, convinced that their small acts of kindness or their adherence to social norms made them good, just, worthy. They viewed themselves as heroes in their own right, clinging to a superficial sense of morality and justice.

Yet, in their simplicity, they fail to see how their so-called righteousness are nothing more than a fragile façade, easily shattered by the cold, hard truths of power and influence.

Your musings were interrupted by Todoroki's voice, soft yet clear. "Akuma-san, I like to think of myself as an intelligent person," he began, his gaze fixed on the crowd below. "But it seems that everything becomes unintelligible when it comes to you."

You turned your head, curiosity piqued. "Pardon?" you asked, unsure of where he was leading.

Todoroki took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a turmoil of emotions. "I've been thinking about what I told Midoriya earlier," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of bitterness and resignation. "About my past, about my father... the hero... Endeavor. It's something I feel you should know too."

He paused, gathering his thoughts, before continuing. "My father... he's not just unpleasant. He's driven by a relentless obsession to surpass All Might and  views me as nothing but a tool to achieve that goal. My siblings—they're nothing but failures to him because they don't measure up to his standards. It's all been about grooming me to achieve what he couldn't."

Todoroki's eyes darkened as he continued, his hand unconsciously touching the scar on his left eye. "And my mother? She suffered greatly under his ambitions. The pressure, the constant demands and abuse—she couldn't handle it...and it broke her. I look like him, you see. Every time she saw the left side of my face—the fire I inherited from him—it reminded her of him...of everything she hated. One day, she snapped. She threw boiling water at me...said it was unsightly. That's how I got this scar."

He paused, the raw emotion in his voice a stark contrast to the stoic façade he usually maintained. "My father had her institutionalized. To him, she was just another obstacle. I grew up hating him, despising the fire side of my Quirk because it was his. I've spent my entire life trying to prove that I could be a hero without becoming him."

As Todoroki finished his story, you felt a hollow emptiness where empathy should have been. His words, dripping with a mix of self-pity and bitterness, left you cold. The tale of his troubled upbringing, designed perhaps to elicit sympathy, only reinforced your disdain for him.

Todoroki, with his tragic backstory and internal turmoil, seemed to you one of the most pathetic individuals you had ever encountered.

A soft hum escaped your lips, and a sardonic smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. You turned to face him, your eyes gleaming with a harsh light. "For someone so intelligent," you began, your tone laced with mockery, "you have an awfully bad habit of oversharing personal and horrifyingly useful information one would think to keep private. It's a wonder you've managed to maintain such a mysterious persona." You could almost hear the echo of your peers' admiration for him, their awe and reverence for the troubled hero. If only they knew the full extent of his pitiful reality.

Todoroki's eyes widened slightly at your words, a flicker of confusion mingling with the anger already etched on his face. 

Your lips dropped from the semblance of a smile into a disgusted snarl. "Although you had such an unsavory upbringing, Midoriya was right about one thing," you continued, your voice sharp and unyielding. "It's an absolutely pitiful sight to see you allowing your father to win and have power over something that's yours. Your life, your choices—they belong to you. Yet here you are, shackled by his shadow, letting him dictate who you become."

Todoroki's gaze faltered, his expression a mix of shame and defensiveness, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His anger simmered just beneath the surface, his composure cracking under the weight of your unrelenting critique.

His anger, however, was not just from the truth of your words but from the familiarity of their tone.

You, with your overbearing harshness and cutting remarks, reminded him too much of his father—Endeavor's relentless drive, his unyielding standards, and his crushing expectations. But you weren't done yet.

You took a step closer, your presence towering over him. "Of course," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "you can always go on this woe-is-me journey of limiting yourself. Continue rejecting your fire, the very power that makes you whole, just to spite your father. It's quite amusing, really—watching you cripple yourself for the sake of some misguided vendetta."

Todoroki's anger flared, his eyes narrowing as he tried to hold back a retort. His frustration was palpable, mingling with the pain your words inflicted. Yet he remained silent, the truth of your accusations sinking in despite his instinctive resistance.

He despised the harshness of your approach, the way you mirrored his father's brutal honesty, but he couldn't entirely dismiss the validity of your perspective.

You leaned in, your eyes locking onto his, forcing him to confront the harsh truth of your words. "Though, what's truly even more pathetic," you continued, your voice lowering to a dangerous whisper, "is how you wear this victimhood like a badge of honor. You've let him win every time you hold back, every time you refuse to use your full potential. And for what? Some semblance of moral high ground? You're a fool, Todoroki. A pitiful fool clinging to a righteous delusion."

Todoroki's face contorted further, his internal conflict evident in the tightening of his jaw and the hardening of his gaze. Before he could gather his thoughts or mount a defense, Present Mic's voice boomed through the stadium, breaking the tension. "[And we have a draw! The battle between Tetsutetsu and Kirishima ends in a tie! Up next, it's Bakugo Katsuki versus Uraraka Ochaco! Get ready for a showdown!]"

The announcement echoed around you, the festival's energy seeping back into the moment. You stepped back, a charming grin spreading across your face. "Well, that's my cue," you said, your tone suddenly light, "Must be off to support. Do try to think about what I said, Todoroki-kun. Good luck, next round." As you made your way back to your class's section, you felt a surge of anticipation for the upcoming fight between Bakugo and Uraraka.

A/N: wheewww! 7.5k DONE! anyways, sorry for the little wait, these doubles at work been kicking my ass so i decided to update while i have time on my day off 😩. anywhooo, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, don't judge me too bad for the horrible action /fightring portion, i tired my best lolololo. the next three rounds will all be in 1 chappie, so it can be  long like this one. see you all next update. ❤️❤️