#he is like me (permanent bags under my eyes)

[twoplayergaymers]

A Sign Of Affection—

Part One// Part Two// Part Three

❋ deaf! Bakugo x Fem Interpreter! Reader

❋ Interpreting for Dynamight: How Hard Could It Be?

❋ a note before you begin: wow finally the last part! Thank you so much for all the love I’ve received! Same thing applies to dialogue as the last part, angst..sorry, barely proofread

Hours later, you’ve paced your living room so much there’s practically a permanent path in the carpet. You’re replaying today’s events over and over and as much as you want to pretend it’s nothing, Talia’s words are still in your head.

“That man doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t do shit to be nice”

You’re biting your nails as the knock on the door pulls your from your thoughts

The door swings open and reveals Talia, paper bags in arms. “I’m here!” She says. “Your text was so vague ‘please come over it’s important!’ I didn’t know what the vibe was so I think I got everything? Wine.. ice cream.. bunch of junk I dunno” she giggles out the last part but the serious expression on your face brings her back to reality “oh shit..”

You step aside wordlessly to let her in, closing and locking the door behind her and she’s already putting the ice cream into the freezer and grabbing two glasses and the wine opener as you’re throwing yourself onto the couch.

She places the glasses on your coffee table while she makes work of the bottle. “So.” she says casually, the cork popping loose, “start talking”

You groan into your throw pillows. “I like him.”

“come again?” she asks, tone teasing and you can hear the smirk in her voice without even looking up at her. “Please don’t be a bitch right now I know you heard me”

Talia laughs as she pours the wine, shaking her head. “Oh, I definitely heard you. I just wanted to make sure you heard you.” You sit up, grabbing one of the glasses she sets down. “Talia, I’m serious. This isn’t funny.”

“That’s why it’s funny,” she replies, taking a seat beside you and giving you a knowing look. “You’ve been dancing around this for weeks. Weeks. And now you’re finally admitting it.” She leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “So? What happened?”

You take a long sip of wine, debating how much to share. “It’s just… he’s so frustrating, and he drives me insane, and yet somehow he still manages to—ugh!” You groan again, gesturing wildly. “He signed that I was pretty to me today during a press conference, Talia. And I cannot stop thinking about it.”

Talia’s eyes go wide, and her jaw drops. “No way. During the press conference?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, slumping back into the couch. “I was a mess this morning, late to work, and he still… he said I was pretty. And then had the nerve to smirk about it like he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Because he does know,” Talia says simply, swirling her glass. “He’s not stupid, you know. He’s Bakugo. Dynamight. he doesn’t do anything by accident.”

You groan again, dragging a hand down your face. “That’s the problem, Talia! He’s… him! And I’m… me! This shouldn’t even be a thing, but here I am losing sleep over it.”

Talia grins and nudges you with her elbow. “You’re losing sleep because you like him. Admit it. Fully. Out loud.”

You glare at her but know there’s no escaping it. “Fine,” you mutter. “I like him. Happy?”

Talia clinks her glass against yours. “Ecstatic. Now, let’s figure out what you’re gonna do about it.”

You stare at her. “What am I gonna do about it? Nothing! I’m going to do nothing!”

She takes a long sip of wine and raises her eyebrow at you “so what? You’re going to sit there everyday and pine? Please, y/n, you’re much too pretty for that sad shit.”

You shoot her a look. “I’m not pining. I’m just… processing.” She snorts. “Processing? Sure. Totally healthy to pace holes into your carpet over someone who called you pretty.”

“It’s not just that,” you snap, running a hand through your hair. “It’s everything. He’s complicated and stubborn and way too good at getting under my skin. And then he does something sweet, like making a little girl’s entire life just by talking to her, and I—” Talia leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And you melt. Admit it.”

You groan, pressing the glass of wine to your forehead. “I hate you.” “No, you don’t. You hate that I’m right,” she teases. “So what’s stopping you? He clearly likes you too.”

You sit up straighter at that, shaking your head. “He does not.” “Oh, please,” Talia scoffs. Talia snorts, setting her glass down as she fixes you with a knowing look. “This man signed that you were pretty during a press conference, in front of millions of people. If that’s not bold, I don’t know what is.”

You shake your head, desperate to downplay the moment before your face bursts into flames. “He knows nobody else there knew sign, and he wasn’t even on camera at the time. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

Talia gasps, mock-offended, clutching her chest. “Not that big of a deal? Are you kidding me? That makes it more of a deal! It wasn’t for the cameras. It wasn’t for anyone else. It was just for you.”

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you blink at her, mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find a rebuttal. “I—no, it—it wasn’t like that. He’s just…” “Just into you,” Talia finishes, her tone smug as she leans back on the couch, wine glass in hand.

Your cheeks burn, and you down the rest of your wine, hoping the flush on your face can be blamed on the alcohol. “Even if he is—which he isn’t—it doesn’t matter. We work together. It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated is just an excuse people use when they’re scared,” Talia says bluntly, pouring you another glass. “So what’s the real reason?”

You hesitate, swirling the wine in your glass as you try to put the knot of emotions in your chest into words. “I just… I don’t think I’m what someone like him wants. Or needs.”

Talia’s expression softens, and she places a hand on your knee. “Hey. Stop that. You’re amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you. If Bakugo can’t see that, though I’m pretty sure he does, then that’s his problem, not yours.”

You glance at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “When did you get so wise?”

She grins, holding up her glass. “Hey I’ve always been wise! You’re just finally listening!”

You clink your glass against hers, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Thanks, Talia.”

“Anytime,” she replies, leaning back on the couch with a satisfied smirk. “Now, let’s strategize. Step one: stop denying your feelings. Step two: figure out how to get Bakugo to admit his. Step three—”

You groan loudly, cutting her off. “Talia, I swear—”

She laughs, holding her hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. No step three. Yet. But I’m telling you, this is gonna work out. Just wait and see.”

You roll your eyes, but a small part of you—a hopeful, stubborn part—wonders if maybe she’s right. You push the thought aside for now; overthinking won’t solve anything tonight. Right now, you just want to enjoy the time with Talia.

Scooting closer, you grab the blanket draped over the arm of the couch and spread it across both your laps. “Alright, no more of this. Let’s focus on something less complicated,” you say, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the movie options.

Talia grins, leaning into you as she sips her wine. “Fine by me. Something cheesy and predictable? Bonus points if someone has a dramatic airport chase scene.”

You snort and select a romcom that promises exactly that. The opening credits roll as you settle back against the couch, the tension in your shoulders finally easing.

The rest of the night passes in laughter and shared commentary about the movie’s ridiculous plot twists. The bottle of wine empties quickly, and by the time the credits roll, both of you are drowsy under the weight of the blanket.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself relax. Whatever’s going on with Katsuki, it can wait. Tonight is for you and your best friend, and that’s more than enough.

You walk into the office the next morning with a strange, uneasy feeling you can’t quite shake. It’s not like you expect anything to change—admitting you like Bakugo to Talia doesn’t magically alter the dynamic between you two. But now that you’ve acknowledged your feelings, every glance, every moment with him feels heavier, like you’re hyper-aware of his presence.

And you are.

Maybe you’d admit the way you feel, but every single voice of reason is screaming at you not to. Don’t do it. It’s a mistake. It’s just a crush and it’ll pass.

When you get to your desk, you glance toward his office out of habit, finding the door slightly ajar. You can just make out the blonde spikes of his hair behind his chair, his broad shoulders hunched over paperwork. He doesn’t look up when you walk in, and for some reason, that stings a little. Usually, he at least gives you a curt nod or some kind of acknowledgement, but today… nothing.

Shaking it off, you settle into your seat and get to work. Maybe he’s just focused.

But as the hours tick by, that feeling doesn’t go away. He’s quiet—too quiet. No sarcastic comments when he passes your desk, no requests for coffee or updates, no snarky remarks during meetings. You tell yourself you’re imagining it, that he’s just having an off day.

It’s not until the next day, when lunch rolls around, that your suspicions start to feel like reality.

“Hey, you still good for lunch today?” you ask, poking your head into his office. You try to sound casual, like you haven’t been overthinking every interaction since you walked in yesterday.

He doesn’t look up from his laptop. “Can’t. Busy.”

The response is so abrupt it almost feels rehearsed.

“Oh,” you say, blinking. “Uh, okay. Another time then?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

His tone is clipped, dismissive, and he’s still not looking at you. You linger in the doorway for a moment, waiting for… something. A glance, an apology, anything. But it never comes.

You nod to yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat, and step back. “Alright. Let me know.”

The door clicks shut behind you, and the uneasiness from yesterday flares into something sharper.

By the third day of his weird behavior, the uneasiness has settled into a constant weight in your chest. Every time you try to reach out—whether it’s a quick message, a casual question, or even just passing by his office—he’s distant, vague, and uninterested. You text him that evening, hoping to clear the air.

You: “Hey, everything okay? You’ve been kinda off lately.”

The reply comes almost an hour later, short and unhelpful.

Katsuki: “Fine. Just busy.”

You frown at the screen, debating whether to push further, but something stops you. Maybe it’s the flatness of his response, or the way he’s been acting, but you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

And then, just as you’re about to respond, you notice something.

The text thread is gone.

You stare at your phone, disbelief flooding your veins as you realize what just happened.

He blocked you.

Your mind scrambles for an explanation. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe his phone glitched. Maybe—no, you stop yourself. There’s no justifying this. He’s been pulling away, piece by piece, for days now, and this feels like the final nail in the coffin.

You sit on the edge of your bed, phone still clutched in your hand as you try to make sense of it. What the hell just happened?

Was it something you did? Something you said? You replay every interaction in your head, searching for where things went wrong. But no matter how much you analyze it, you keep coming back to the same conclusion: you didn’t do anything. This is him.

And it hurts.

The next morning, you’re determined to act like everything’s fine. It’s not, obviously, but you refuse to let anyone in the office see you crack. Especially not him.

When you walk in, you don’t even glance toward his office. You focus on your desk, your work, anything to keep yourself occupied. But ignoring him is easier said than done when his presence looms so large, even when he’s not in the room.

The tension builds all day, and by the time you clock out, you’re emotionally drained. You make it home, kick off your shoes, and collapse onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

You’re trying not to think about him—trying so hard—but every quiet moment drags your mind back to the same place. To the way he called you pretty, the way he made you feel seen, the way he’s been acting like you don’t exist.

And that’s when you decide.

You need a distraction.

You grab your phone and scroll through your contacts until you find the number you haven’t used since you’d seen it on that note. The guy with the easy smile and the bad pick-up lines. The guy you barely even remember

You: “Hey, are you free tonight?”

When he texts back almost immediately, you hesitate for half a second before replying. You set up the date—nothing fancy, just drinks at a casual spot downtown, maybe an appetizer if you’re feeling adventurous and then toss your phone aside, already second-guessing yourself.

You don’t like him. You know that. But maybe you could. Maybe spending time with someone who isn’t Katsuki Bakugo will remind you that the world doesn’t revolve around him.

Hours later, you’re at the bar, sitting across from the guy who’s trying way too hard to make you laugh. You’re smiling, you’re nodding, you’re even sipping your drink like you’re having a good time, but your mind is elsewhere.

It’s not working.

You’re halfway through the date when you feel it—that prickle on the back of your neck, like someone’s watching you. You glance around the room, and your stomach drops when your eyes land on him.

Katsuki.

He’s sitting in a booth on the other side of the bar, surrounded by a few pro heroes you recognize. He’s not looking at them, though. His gaze is locked on you, jaw tight, expression unreadable.

Your date says something, but you don’t hear it. The noise of the bar fades as the two of you stare at each other from across the room.

You look away first, heart pounding in your chest. What the hell is he doing here?

The bar is too loud. The kind of loud that drowns out every coherent thought if you let it. Katsuki doesn’t let it.

He’s leaned back in his seat, one arm draped casually over the back of the booth, but his eyes are locked on you. He doesn’t even realize how hard his jaw is clenched until Kirishima nudges him with an elbow.

“Yo, you good?”

Katsuki doesn’t answer. He can’t. His mind is a tangled mess, and it all leads back to you. Sitting there with that guy. Laughing, even though Katsuki knows damn well it’s not real. He can read it all over your face.

And yet, he can’t look away.

His drink sits untouched on the table, condensation pooling beneath the glass, but he doesn’t notice. His thoughts are too loud.

Why does it bother me so much?

It’s not like you’re his. You never were. And yet the thought of you smiling at someone else, laughing at someone else’s stupid jokes—it makes something inside him twist in a way he can’t name.

And then, there’s that other thought. The one that’s been festering since the moment you walked into his life.

She has too much power over me.

He grips his thigh under the table, grounding himself. It’s true, isn’t it? You’ve taken up space in his head he never meant to give you. It’s not just the way you make him feel—it’s what you represent.

He used to think his Deafness was just another part of him. Like his quirk, like his temper. Something he’d learned to live with.

And then you came along.

You, with your easy understanding and your patience and your damn compassion. You didn’t just see him. You knew him, in a way that made him feel vulnerable, and he hates it. He hates the way you make him feel exposed, like you can see right through him.

That’s what this is really about, isn’t it? Power.

You have it, and he doesn’t. Not over himself, not over his own damn identity.

His grip on the glass tightens. He doesn’t need this. Doesn’t need you.

Kirishima’s voice cuts through his thoughts, though it’s muffled and distant, and he knows Eijirou knows he can’t hear him. Katsuki doesn’t bother trying to piece the words together. He just stands, shoving his hands into his pockets and muttering something about needing air.

You’d excused yourself to bathroom, feeling your hands go clammy and your heart race and you needed the relief of cool water. You don’t know how long you stand there, trying to pull yourself together, but when you finally leave the bathroom, he’s gone.

And somehow, that’s worse.

The rest of the night is a blur. You go through the motions, nodding along to your date’s stories and laughing in the right places, but your heart isn’t in it. Your thoughts are with Bakugo—his expression, the way he looked at you, and the fact that he just… left.

By the time you get home, you’re emotionally spent. You collapse onto your couch, replaying the night in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Why was he there? Why was he watching you?

You don’t have any answers, but one thing is clear.

Ignoring this was not going to be as easy as you thought.

The next morning you go through the motions, deciding fine, he wants to be that way and he can. You’re here to do a job and you will even if you hate the way there’s an ache in your chest.

You arrive at the agency, scanning you badge like usual only to be met with an unfamiliar red light and accompanied beeping. “Weird” you whisper to yourself, banging on the door a few times. You can see Talia at her desk and she walks over and opens up the door for you

“Sorry, my badge wasn’t working” you furrow your browns and shake your head in frustration. “No problem, girl,” she says with a small shrug, holding the door open for you as you walk inside. “It’s probably just a glitch. Happens sometimes.”

You nod, but you feel the weight of something off in the air as you head into the building. As you walk through the familiar halls, the quiet feels a little too heavy. You’re not sure why, but you can’t shake the feeling that something’s different.

You make your way upstairs, the thought of Bakugo weighing on your mind. You can’t help but wonder what’s going on. His behavior has been so strange lately—so distant. But you don’t have time to dwell on it. You sit down at your desk, hoping the distraction of work will ease your mind, but it doesn’t. Not when you keep thinking about him.

You glance around the office, everything still the same on the surface. But something about it feels off.

And then, you see him and it’s like a slap to the face.

Bakugo. Dynamight. Standing there, right across the room, and the moment your eyes lock, your breath hitches. There’s something different in his gaze—a cold, calculated look that doesn’t soften when it meets yours. The same gaze he gave you the first morning you’d arrived, when you were so sure you were about to help him in ways that mattered..and you see them. His hearing aids, it makes your heart drop

It’s like the whole world shifts with the realization.

He doesn’t need you anymore. He doesn’t need an interpreter.

Your feet move beneath you before your brain even catches up and you’re grabbing him, pulling him into his office and shutting..no slamming the door. You huff and your eyes search him for something, anything but you see nothing but his cold, crimson eyes.

You swallow hard, finally finding your voice again. “You… you got your hearing aids fixed?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. The silence says everything.

“I’m not… your interpreter anymore, am I?” He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No.”

It feels like the room falls silent, even though it isn’t. The words and hands are heavy in the air. Your mind races, your chest tightening with each passing second. You can feel your heart breaking

You hold your dominant hand up beside your head, making a motion as if your flicking up into the air as you shake your head

DON’T UNDERSTAND.

“W-what about all your progress?” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes and your voice is cracking almost pathetically. You can’t cry. You can’t cry because you don’t have a reason to, interpreters who get fired don’t cry.

Except… you’re not just an interpreter.

You’re something more. And you’re so damn tired of pretending you’re not.

He says nothing in return, but his eyes linger on you for a moment longer. You wish you could read him, but it’s impossible now. You can’t help but feel like you’ve lost something important, even though you don’t know what it is.

“Can we.. still have lunch together?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you can’t help the way your chest tightens in that small flicker of hope. Maybe… maybe this isn’t all over. Maybe this rejection of his learning isn’t a rejection of you.

He looks down hesitating, taking a breath and opens his mouth to speak. His eyes flicker to you, and that’s when you see it—the flicker of recognition, the briefest trace of something almost human. He shuts his mouth with another shake of the head.

You notice the flicker in his eyes but It’s not enough to stop the ache inside you from spreading further, tearing at something you didn’t even realize would hurt you this much until now.

So he just didn’t want you. That harsh truth weighs on you like nothing else. It’s not just the physical presence of the hearing aids—it’s everything that they represent. The end of something you thought was real. Something you thought mattered to him.

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Instead, you just stand there, feeling the weight of what he’s done. Feeling the weight of what he’s taken from you without a single word, without a single explanation he leaves the room.

He doesn’t need you. And in that moment, you realize, you never really mattered to him.

You hold yourself together—barely. Your nails dig into your palms as you fight to stay composed, forcing the tears to wait. But the second the elevator doors close behind you, it’s like a dam breaks. Hot tears streak down your face, silent but unrelenting, as you descend. You can’t stop them, can’t stop the way your chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself.

By the time you reach the lobby, your sobs are quiet but persistent, the ache in your throat growing unbearable. Talia’s voice calls out to you from the front desk, a mixture of concern and confusion. “Hey! Hey, what happened? Wait—”

You don’t stop. You can’t. You push through the front doors, ignoring her voice, knowing she can’t leave her station to follow you. The cold air outside hits you like a slap, but it does nothing to ground you. You’re too far gone, your mind replaying the scene over and over like some cruel, inescapable loop.

He doesn’t need you anymore. He doesn’t care.

You don’t even remember how you get home. The walk is a blur of noise and tears and a weight pressing down on your chest so heavy you’re sure it’ll crush you. When you finally make it back, the silence of your apartment is deafening. It surrounds you, suffocates you, fills every corner like it’s mocking your emptiness.

Your bag hits the floor, and you follow it, sinking to your knees as another sob tears its way out of you. You clutch your chest, trying to hold yourself together, trying to keep yourself from falling apart completely. But it’s no use.

It hurts.

It hurts in a way you can’t explain, in a way you’ve never felt before. It’s not just the loss of a job or the suddenness of it all—it’s him. It’s the way he looked at you, like you were nothing. Like everything you’d worked on, everything you’d shared, meant nothing to him. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe you were foolish to think it ever did.

You sit there for what feels like hours, your tears eventually slowing, replaced by a numbness that leaves you hollow. You’re not sure when your phone starts buzzing, but you glance at it long enough to see Talia’s name lighting up the screen. You don’t answer. You can’t. Not right now. Not when the sound of her voice will break you all over again.

You toss the phone onto the couch, curling up against the cushions and pulling a blanket over you like it might shield you from the world outside. But even as you close your eyes, the ache in your chest lingers, reminding you of what you’ve lost.

And for the first time in a long time, you’re not sure how to move forward.

It’s dark out when the front door opening makes you jump and there you see Talia, still fully adorned in her work clothes and a panicked expression kicking off her shoes in your front entry way. She closes the door behind her and crushes to your slumped form on the couch.

“You don’t think I know you keep the key under the mat? I’ve been calling you for hours!” She says, her tone sharp with worry but she softens when her eyes meet your puffy, red ones.

“It’s fine,” you mumble, barely lifting your head from the couch cushion. Your voice is hoarse, raw from hours of crying. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Stop it. Clearly, I did,” Talia shoots back, dropping her bag on the floor before sitting beside you. She sighs as she takes you in, her brows furrowed in concern. “What happened, babe? I’ve never seen you like this.”

You shake your head, willing the tears not to start again. “It’s nothing. I’m just being stupid.”

“Stop that,” she says firmly, reaching out to grab your hand. “You’re not stupid. Something happened. Talk to me.”

You don’t respond right away. Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, you think about brushing her off entirely. But the way she’s looking at you, like she won’t let you get away with it, makes you cave.

“It’s Bakugo,” you finally admit, your voice breaking on his name. The tears you were holding back spill over again, and you quickly wipe at them, frustrated with yourself. “He… he doesn’t need me anymore, Talia. He got his hearing aids fixed, and he fired me.”

Her face shifts from worry to disbelief, her mouth falling open. “He what?”

You nod, pulling your knees to your chest. “He didn’t say it outright, but my badge didn’t work this morning, and he… he told me I’m not his interpreter anymore. I think he knew exactly what he was doing.”

“Are you kidding me?” Talia’s voice rises in outrage, and she looks ready to storm out of your apartment and march back to his office. “That’s insane. You’ve been there for him every step of the way. You’ve helped him. And now he just—what? Tosses you aside?”

You shrug helplessly, your fingers twisting in the hem of your sweater. “I should’ve known better. I thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe it meant something. But it didn’t.”

“Oh, hell no.” Talia stands up, pacing the room as her anger radiates off of her. “This isn’t about you. This is his problem. You’ve done everything you could for him, and if he can’t see that, then that’s on him—not you.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Doesn’t really make it hurt any less.”

Talia stops pacing and sits back down, pulling you into a tight hug. “I know it doesn’t. But you’re not gonna sit here and blame yourself for this. You’re amazing at what you do, and if he can’t appreciate that, then he’s the one who’s losing out.”

Her words offer a small comfort, but the ache in your chest remains. You lean into her, closing your eyes and letting the silence stretch between you. For now, you’re grateful she’s here, even if nothing else makes sense.

She rubs your back for a few short moments before getting up and leaving the room, reappearing minutes later and helping your weak form to your feet, guiding you to the bathroom where she’s drawn you a warm bath. Steam rises, and the faint scent of lavender fills the air.

“Relax, love” she smiles. “Breathe, okay? Take your time in here. Call me if you need”

Tears prick your eyes at her thoughtfulness, and you manage a small nod, unable to speak. She squeezes your hand before leaving, and you lower yourself into the bath, the warmth wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. For the first time all day, you feel a sliver of peace creeping in, though it doesn’t quite reach your chest. You let the water carry you for a while, letting yourself simply exist.

When you finally rinse off and step out, you make your way to your bedroom to find fresh sheets neatly made on your bed and your softest pajamas laid out. The sight makes your throat tighten, but in a different way—there’s comfort in knowing someone cares this much.

there’s a faint smell wafting through your small apartment and you, now dressed search for her to find her in the kitchen. humming softly to herself. She glances up the moment she notices you, her face lighting up.

“There she is! Feeling a little better, love?” she asks, setting down a spatula.

You give a small nod, though the heaviness in your chest hasn’t fully lifted. “A little,” you manage, your voice still shaky.

She smiles, turning back to the stove to plate the food. “So… I’m not the greatest cook. You know I’m no Bakugo, but—” She cuts herself off when she sees you wince at his name, muttering a quiet apology. After a beat, she places a plate in front of you and gestures toward the couch. “Come on. Let’s sit and eat.”

You feel bad, the meal looks delicious and you know she worked hard on it but you can’t bring yourself to eat it, there’s an emptiness, a hollowness but it’s not hunger. Talia watches as you push the food around your plate. Her smile fades, replaced by concern. “You need to eat,” she says gently but firmly. “I know you. You skipped breakfast this morning. Don’t try to deny it—I can tell.”

You shrug, your fork barely scraping the surface of your food. “I’m just… not hungry.”

“Babe, you have to take care of yourself,” she insists, her voice softening but still insistent. “I know today was awful, but you can’t keep running on empty.”

You don’t respond, your eyes fixed on the plate in front of you. The emptiness in your chest feels too big, too consuming to let anything else in. Talia places a hand on your knee, grounding you. “I know it hurts,” she whispers. “But you can’t let this break you. You’re stronger than this. Stronger than him.”

Her words stir something deep inside you, but the ache remains. You take a small bite, more for her than for yourself, and she offers a small, encouraging smile. “That’s my girl,” she says quietly.

The two of you sit in silence after that, the only sound the faint clink of her fork against her plate. Even though the pain doesn’t go away, having her there makes it feel just a little more bearable.

When you finish eating, Talia wordlessly takes your plate and hers, rinsing them off and placing them in the sink. She hums softly to herself, the sound grounding in its normalcy, as she washes the dishes. Afterward, she disappears into the bathroom to take a shower, calling out a quick, “I’m stealing your sweats!” before you hear the water turn on.

You crawl into bed, exhaustion weighing down your every move. The fresh sheets feel cool against your skin, the faint scent of lavender fabric softener lingering from earlier. By the time Talia returns, her damp curls are tied up, and she’s wearing your oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. She’s carrying a pint of ice cream in one hand and two spoons in the other.

Wordlessly, she slides into bed beside you, popping the lid off the ice cream and offering you a spoon. You take it, and for the next hour, you cuddle together, legs tangled beneath the blankets as you watch a lineup of terrible romcoms on your laptop. The kind of movies with cheesy dialogue and over-the-top plots that you usually roll your eyes at but now somehow find comfort in.

Every so often, Talia sneaks a glance at you. She doesn’t say anything when the tears start to fall again, silently wiping your cheeks with her sleeve and giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she says softly, her voice almost a whisper. “But you’re not alone, okay? You’ll never be alone.”

You nod, leaning into her warmth. For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself believe her. Even if the ache in your chest still lingers, you let yourself be held. Let yourself cry. Let yourself exist, just as you are, in that moment.

As the night drags on, the ice cream long forgotten and the romcoms playing in the background, you feel yourself start to relax in her arms. And though the pain hasn’t gone away, the weight of it feels a little less unbearable with her there by your side.

Bakugo sighs, staring at the ceiling above his bed His jaw clenched as the memory of her face flashed in his mind. The way you eyes had widened in confusion, then crumpled into something raw and broken when you realized what he was telling you. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the way your hands moved, shaky and uncertain, as you signed don’t understand.

You didn’t understand. Of course you didn’t. He’d made sure of that.

“You’re a fucking coward,” he muttered to himself, fisting the comforter around him

The truth was simple, but it was too ugly to say out loud. He couldn’t handle you anymore. Couldn’t handle the way you made him feel seen in ways that scared the shit out of him.

He’d spent his whole damn life being the best. Strong. In control. And yet, somehow, you had this hold over him. This power.

It wasn’t just you. It was everything you represented.

Being around you made him feel exposed, like you could see all the cracks he worked so hard to hide. And when you signed, when you looked at him like he was worth the effort, it was like you were holding up a mirror to all the things he didn’t want to face about himself.

You made him weak. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He stood abruptly, pacing the length of his bedroom.

He had his hearing aids now. He didn’t need to rely on anyone anymore. No interpreters. He could go back to being the Dynamight the world expected him to be. So why did it feel like he’d just thrown away something he couldn’t replace?

Bakugo stopped in front of the window, staring out at the city below. His reflection stared back at him, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t recognize the man in the glass.

“This is for the best,” he muttered, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

But the ache in his chest didn’t go away.

You feel a bit hollow as time goes on, your heart still tethered to the past despite the passing months. Every morning you wake up, you get dressed, and you go through the motions of your day. You’ve found yourself in a routine, one that doesn’t require too much emotional investment. But still, that ache—the one that first blossomed the day you left Bakugo’s office—hasn’t faded. It may have softened a little, but it’s still there and you find it pathetic

Talia is there, Her comforting presence fills the empty spaces in your life, and though you don’t deserve the kind of loyalty she gives you, she doesn’t care. She’s your friend, your rock, and for all the hurt you’ve experienced, her kindness is a balm for your soul. Even though this job broke your heart it brought you to her and for that you couldn’t be more grateful.

It’s been three months since you left the office that day. You get a new interpreting job at Red Riots agency, the same work, interpreting press conferences and such while working for the VRS. It gets you by.

Red Riot is calmer, and has this softness about him that comforts you. You like this job, everyone is kind and you have staff lunches together. It’s a far cry from the tension that always seemed to hang in the air at Bakugo’s agency, and you’ve started to find comfort in the mundane, in the simplicity of working with good people who care about each other.

But still, there are days when you find yourself staring off into space, the memories of Bakugo haunting you. It’s strange—how someone you once thought was nothing but a client could leave such an impression on your life. You shake your head, trying to push away the lingering thoughts. You’ve moved on, right? You’ve found someone else.

Mason.

The relationship is casual—something that started with an easygoing vibe, no expectations. He’s a good guy, in his own way. But there’s something missing. You don’t feel the spark, the connection you once thought would be there when you found someone else. He’s just filling the void left by someone else’s absence. And when he eventually leaves, when he decides he wants something more than you’re willing to offer, you don’t blame him.

He deserves more, just like you do.

You can’t love Mason—not in the way he needs you to. But you can’t love anyone the way you loved him either. That part of you is broken, fragile, and still stuck in the past. And when Mason walks out of your life, it stings, but it’s not the gut-wrenching pain you once felt. Instead, it’s a quiet acceptance that you can’t force something to be what it isn’t.

You’ll heal. You have to.

Days go by, and you settle into the rhythm of your new life. You’re getting used to being on your own, to not having that constant pull of someone you can’t reach, someone who made you feel like you were worth something and then yanked that validation away. The job, the quiet comfort of Red Riot’s agency, even the stillness in your apartment—it’s all a small, healing process.

Talia notices the change. You’re not as sad as you were, but there’s a quiet in your eyes, a space where something used to be. She’s not the type to press you about it, but you know she’s there, always. And sometimes, in the stillness of your shared moments, she asks about your day, about the people you’re meeting. It’s gentle, but the concern is there, too.

One afternoon, as the sunlight filters through your apartment, Talia shows up with her usual enthusiasm.

“I was thinking,” she says, her voice light, “that we should take a weekend trip. Just to get away, y’know?”

You look up from the book you’ve been skimming, surprised by the suggestion. “Where would we even go?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “but I thought it might be nice to shake things up. A change of scenery. You’re kind of… in this zone lately. I mean, I get it, but maybe it’s time for something new.”

Her words hit a little too close to home, but you don’t resist. You nod slowly. “Yeah… maybe.”

So you do, you book a little weekend get away to somewhere that might me warmer at the end of March. Somewhere remote and peaceful, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself get excited about something. It’s the promise of something different, something that doesn’t carry the weight of your past.

The day of the trip comes, and you pack with an ease that surprises you. You’ve never really been the type to just leave, but the idea of doing something just for you, for the sake of your peace, feels right. The car ride is full of chatter and laughter, the way it used to be before everything changed.

You spend the next few days enjoying the quiet. Talia insists on cooking meals, and you both take walks in the crisp air. Evenings are spent curled up by the fire, watching movies or talking about anything and everything. It’s healing, in its own way. You still think of Bakugo sometimes, but not with the same desperation. It’s more of a quiet recognition of what once was.

On the last day, just as you’re packing up to head home, you find yourself alone outside, staring at the horizon, the sunlight filtering through the trees. There’s a soft breeze that cools your skin, and for the first time in months, you allow yourself to feel a bit of peace. You breathe in deeply, letting go of the tension that’s built up in your shoulders.

“You okay?” Talia’s voice breaks the silence, and you turn to find her standing there, leaning against the porch rail.

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. I think I am.” She grins. “Good. You deserve that, you know? To feel… okay.”

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve been able to say that, and the fact that she’s right makes you feel something you haven’t in a while

Bakugo stands in the crowd, a frown etched on his face as he tries to power through yet another community event. He’s here because he has to be. This is part of the hero work—the appearances, the press, the smiles for the public. But none of it feels real. His mind keeps drifting back to that day, three months ago, when he’d decided to sever ties with you, with the very thing that had helped him feel whole again. If you were here maybe he wouldn’t feel nearly as uneasy.

“Dynamight!” He blinks and turns. there she is. Emma. The small Deaf girl he’d encountered months ago.

She’s bouncing up and down with excitement as he strides over to her, hands up to sign with her. Something he said he would do but never stopped doing. Because even though he’d told himself he was done, part of him knows it’s a lie. Not completely. Not for Emma.

For her. He tells himself, pushing the thought away. Deaf kids should get to talk to their favorite hero too.

“Hey, kid” he greets her with a rare, softened tone. He crouches slightly, offering her a small smile as she holds something up excitedly.

“I wanted to show you something!” Emma exclaims, her hands moving rapidly in excitement. She opens a small notebook in her hands and flips it to the first page.

On it is a crayon drawing of the two of them, him dressed in his hero suit and her dressed in her own, future hero suit

“It’s us together as heroes!” She beams. “Yeah…” he murmurs, his hand hovering above the drawing but not quite touching it. There’s an unexpected warmth in his chest. “It’s… great, Emma.”

“This is you,” she signs, pointing to the crayon version of him in his hero costume, “and this is me, when I grow up! I’m gonna be just like you!” Her hands move quickly, her enthusiasm clear, but Bakugo can see the spark in her eyes—a trust, an admiration, something that feels different than what he’s used to.

For a moment, Bakugo doesn’t know how to respond. He hasn’t been sure of himself in so long, especially in moments like this—when people, when kids, look at him like he’s a hero they want to emulate. He stands, not quite sure how to bridge the silence that lingers.

“You’re gonna be a great hero,” he says, the words feeling like something he’s wanted to say to someone for a while, but could never quite get out. “You’re strong.”

She beams again, her smile lighting up her face. “Really? You think so?” She signs the question with wide eyes.

“I know so,” Bakugo replies, and this time, it feels like he’s speaking the truth. His gaze softens as he looks down at the drawing again, and for a second, he can almost see it—the future she imagines, the one where they both stand side by side. The idea lingers in his chest, but then Emma pulls him from his thoughts again.

“You’re a good kid,” he tells her, then signs, “Be careful. Heroes gotta be smart.”

She nods vigorously, her small face serious, but only for a moment before she’s grinning again. “I will! I promise!”

Then for a second, her brows lift with her widening eyes, she reaches up to lightly brush her small fingers at his ears.

ME, YOU, SAME?

His breath hitches and he releases a shaky breath, looking down at this little girl, so innocent and full of hope.

YES

And in that moment, something shifts inside him. Something he’d tried to bury, something you had stirred, but he’d resisted. For the first time in a while, Bakugo doesn’t feel like he’s convincing himself of something. He’s simply… doing. Simply being.

Maybe he doesn’t have all the answers, but for Emma, for the hope she carries, he’ll show up. He’ll be the hero she sees in him.

Later that night, alone in his apartment, Bakugo stands in front of the mirror, his hands hanging at his sides. His mind runs back to Emma’s simple words, her unguarded, honest look at him.

Maybe it’s time to stop pretending.

Maybe it’s time to stop hiding.

He’s been living in the shadows of his own self-doubt, letting fear drive him to keep his identity a secret, to avoid confronting the truth of who he really is. But Emma… she’s not afraid. And if she can embrace who she is, maybe he can too.

The decision comes suddenly, but he knows it’s right. He reaches for his phone, fingers trembling slightly as he types out a message he’s been avoiding for months.

It’s time to tell the world.

you wake up on your day off to the buzz of your phone going off relentlessly. You groggily reach over, blinking the sleep from your eyes, to see an array of notifications lighting up your screen. The headline of every major news source, from social media to the morning news, reads something like:

“Dynamight Comes Out as Deaf: A Hero’s Journey to Self-Acceptance.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You stare at the words, barely able to process them. He—Bakugo—has finally done it. The world now knows. You scroll through the articles in a daze, seeing snippets of his speech at a press conference. Your eyes narrow as your heart aches. The weight of the moment is suffocating, but you can’t look away.

The conference has already aired live, but you pull it up on your tv and your eyes widen as Bakugo steps up to the podium. His usual arrogance and gruffness are there, of course, but there’s a noticeable change in his posture. A shift. The man who once shielded himself behind his bluster is standing there, claiming something that you knew all along. His truth.

His voice is as brash as ever, but there’s a vulnerability to it that you’ve never heard before.

“I know you all love to make a spectacle out of things,” Bakugo growls into the mic, his usual arrogance never wavering. “But let me make one thing clear: I was always Deaf.” He pauses, a brief, almost imperceptible shift in his eyes.

You hold your breath, waiting for him to go on. Then, he says it. He finally does.

“And, uh,” he starts again, his tone softening just a little. “There was someone who helped me get to this point. They taught me a lot. Gave me the space to be me. They didn’t coddle me, didn’t make me feel weak—just helped me find my strength. You know who you are.”

Your chest tightens as your mind races. You can hear the unspoken words. The gratitude he hasn’t voiced directly to you, but you know it’s for you. You can see it in his eyes, even through the stubbornness he wears like armor.

The rest of the press conference carries on with Bakugo making his usual gruff remarks about being the same hero, just with a little more transparency. “I’m not any less of a hero. I’m the same as I was yesterday. Only now, maybe you all can stop treating me like some damn novelty. I’m a person, this is who I’ve always been”

But in between his words, you can feel something—a small shift in the way he’s holding himself. Maybe he’s not just talking about his Deafness anymore. Maybe he’s talking about everything. About being seen for who he truly is. You’re not sure if he’ll ever admit it, but the way his words hit, the way he doesn’t shield the vulnerability behind his usual tough exterior—it feels like progress.

And though his words are blunt, as expected, there’s something softer there, something you thought you might never see.

Bakugo clears his throat, voice slightly rougher now, but the words are still sharp.

“There’s been a lot of talk lately, a lot of assumptions about who I am and what I’ve done. And yeah, I’ve made mistakes. I pushed people away. People who were trying to help, who saw something in me that I couldn’t see for myself. And… I regret that. Maybe more than anything.”

His gaze falters for just a moment, a fleeting vulnerability before he steels himself again.

“I’ll finally admit it, I’m not perfect. Hell, I don’t know if I’ll ever be perfect. But I’ve learned. I’ve learned that the people who matter—the ones who care about you—they don’t just disappear. You make the mistake of thinking you can push them away and that they’ll just stay gone, but deep down… you hope they’ll come back.”

He pauses, a flicker of something deeper crossing his face, before he looks out at the crowd again, the familiar fire returning to his words.

“I’m the same hero I was before, but I’m not the same person. And I hope that someone out there can see that.”

You swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest as you try to process it all. You know what this means for him. You know how hard this must have been to say, and asu much as you want to hate him, you can’t help but feel proud of him, you can’t help the way your heart leaps in your chest

Talia starts blowing up your phone, repeatedly asking if you’re ok but there’s one message staring back at you, from Bakugo

“I’m sorry”

Your hands tremble as you stare at your phone, the words glaring back at you like a challenge, like a wound you thought had finally started to heal.

“I’m sorry.”

Two simple words, but they’re heavier than you can handle. You don’t even know why he’d send it. What’s he sorry for? Pushing you out of his life? Acting like you never mattered? Or is this just another layer to his guilt, something he’s doing for himself and not for you?

Your phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with a string of messages from Talia.

Talia: “Hey, are you watching this? Are you okay?”

Talia: “Please tell me you’re not ignoring this. You need to see it.”

Talia: “HELLO? BITCH, ANSWER ME!”

But you can’t bring yourself to type a response. Your thumb hovers over the screen, frozen, before your gaze drops back to his message.

“I’m sorry.”

A laugh escapes you, bitter and hollow, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. Sorry doesn’t fix the nights you cried yourself to sleep. It doesn’t fix the emptiness he left behind. It doesn’t make up for the way he made you feel so small, so disposable.

The TV is still on, now muted, but you glance at the screen, the image of Bakugo standing at a podium plastered across every news station. His face is unreadable—hard, almost—but there’s something in his eyes, something you know too well.

Regret.

You pick up the remote, unmuting the TV just in time to catch the end of his speech.

“…And yeah, I’ve made mistakes. I’ve hurt people. People I wish I hadn’t. But I’m not here to dwell on the past. I’m here because it’s time I stopped pretending to be someone I’m not. This is who I am. I’m still Dynamight. I’m still the same damn hero I’ve always been. I was always Deaf—you idiots just never noticed.”

He steps back from the podium, and the reporters erupt with questions. He doesn’t answer any of them, simply turning and walking offstage with his usual sharp determination.

Your phone buzzes again, snapping you out of the daze.

Talia: “Please tell me you’re okay. Do you want me to come over?”

But you can’t think, can’t process, can’t breathe past the knot in your chest. The words on your phone screen blur as fresh tears spill down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s the last thing you wanted to hear from him, but maybe it’s also the one thing you needed.

You sit there for what feels like forever, the world moving around you while you stay frozen. His voice from the conference echoes in your mind,

Sorry for what? For firing you? For shutting you out? For breaking your heart? Your chest feels tight, and you take a shaky breath. You tell yourself not to overthink it, not to let him back into your head, but it’s impossible. That press conference wasn’t just an apology to the world; it felt like an apology to you.

Your phone buzzes again, and this time you force yourself to look

Talia: “Okay, I’m coming over if you don’t answer me in the next five minutes. I’m not kidding.” You type back quickly, fingers shaking.

You: “I’m fine. Don’t come over.”

Her reply is instant.

Talia: “You’re lying. Be there in 10.”

You groan, tossing your phone onto the coffee table. You’re not ready to talk about it yet, not even with her, but you know she won’t let you avoid it.

The knock on your door comes exactly ten minutes later. You don’t even bother pretending you’re not home. You open the door to find Talia standing there, arms crossed and a bag of snacks in her hand.

“I knew you were lying,” she says, pushing past you into the apartment. She drops the bag on the counter and turns to face you, her eyes scanning your face. “You’ve been crying.”

“No I haven’t, I’m fine,” you lie through your teeth, brushing past her to sink down on the couch. You know she’d know if you’re lying but you do it anyway. Who are you really lying to? Her or yourself?

“Seriously? You just watched your ex-boss—and let’s be real, the guy who broke your heart—go public about being Deaf and basically admit he screwed up with you. You’re fine?” She sits next to you, pulling her legs up onto the couch. “Talk to me, y/n. You know I’m here”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Did you see the part where he said he hopes someone comes back? Because if you didn’t, I’m pulling it up right now.”

Your stomach twists. “I saw it.” “And?”

“And nothing,” you snap, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “What do you want me to say, Talia? That I forgive him? That I’m ready to go running back to him? Because I’m not. He doesn’t fucking deserve that. I want to say that, because I’m not, but there’s still a part of my heart that’s aching right now.”

Her expression softens. “I don’t want you to say anything you’re not ready to say. But I think you need to figure out what you do want, because from where I’m sitting, it seems like he’s trying to make things right.”

“Are you seriously defending him right now? Like he can just say “I’m sorry” and that’s it? And I’ll come running back? Do you think I’m that pathetic?” you spit back

“Hey!” She snaps, with a tone you’ve never heard her use. “Do not put words in my mouth, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to like that right now, but let me remind you—I’ve been here with you for months. I’ve held you while you cried over that asshole. Of course I’m not on his fucking side. I’m just stating the facts.”

Her words hit you like a slap, the room falling silent as her glare softens ever so slightly. She crosses her arms, her brows furrowing in that way that shows she’s more hurt than angry. “Don’t take your anger at him out on me.”

You bury your face in your hands, her words sinking in. You don’t know what you want. Part of you wants to scream at him, to tell him he doesn’t get to just say he’s sorry and expect everything to go back to normal. But another part of you… another part of you misses him so much it physically hurts.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You’re right.” You lift your head, meeting Talia’s gaze with a mixture of guilt and gratitude. Reaching out, you grip her hand tightly, as if grounding yourself in her presence. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, the apology carrying the weight of your frustration and pain.

“I don’t know, Talia,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. She wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing gently. “Then don’t decide right now. Just… sit with it. And maybe, when you’re ready, you’ll know what to do.”

You lean into her, the weight of everything pressing down on you. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But as you sit there, one thought keeps replaying in your mind.

He hopes they’ll come back.

And for the first time in three months, you wonder if you might.

The next few days are a blur and as much as you want to ignore the situation bakugo’s face is still plastered on every news outlet, every social media platform, he’s even in conversations you overhear. He’s haunting you. Everyone’s talking about him—about his “coming out” as Deaf, about his gruff yet surprisingly heartfelt press conference, about how he’s still the same Dynamight.

And, of course, there are people who don’t feel the same, suddenly questioning his capabilities—despite thinking he was more than capable just a month ago when they had no idea he was Deaf. It makes you understand, at least in part, why he kept it a secret for so long. Ignorance is frustrating, and it’s easy to imagine how much he worried about his rankings taking a hit. Though, ironically, you suspect his popularity is about to skyrocket. You’re caught in the middle of it, carrying a secret that no one else knows.

He’s apologized to you. Privately. While the world cheers him on for his public bravery, you’re left staring at that two-word message on your phone every night, as if it’s some kind of puzzle you’re supposed to solve.

Talia’s been supportive, always checking in and trying to distract you, but she doesn’t push. You’ve thrown yourself into work at Red Riot’s agency, hoping that the busy schedule will drown out the thoughts of Bakugo that seem to creep in every time you let your guard down.

But it doesn’t work.

On your lunch break one afternoon, you find yourself scrolling through videos of the press conference again. You’ve watched it so many times that you practically have it memorized. The way he stood there, shoulders tense but head held high. The way his hands moved as he simultaneously signed, bold and unapologetic.

The way he said he made mistakes.

The way he said he hopes “they” come back.

Your chest tightens as you pause on the frame where he glances at the camera, his eyes full of something raw and unguarded. Regret? Hope? You don’t know, but it’s enough to stir something in you.

You don’t know why you do it, but your fingers move to open the message thread with him. His “I’m sorry” stares back at you like it’s mocking you.

You start typing a reply. Then delete it. Then type again.

Finally, you send something simple. Something neutral.

You: “I saw the press conference.”

The three little dots are almost immediate and your practically chuck your phone across the room when you see them.

Bakugo: “I figured.”

You stare at his response, waiting for him to say more, but nothing comes. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. What are you supposed to say to that?

You: “It was brave of you to do that.”

You say the truth, because as much as you’re torn in a battle of wanting to run back to him, to tell him how you felt and how you felt or punch him square in the jaw. You still are proud. You know what that took for him.

Bakugo: “It was overdue.”

He’s right. It was overdue. But the fact that he’s admitting it so openly feels… different. The Bakugo you knew never admitted he was wrong, never apologized, never showed vulnerability.

You don’t know what to say next, so you leave the conversation there. But for the rest of the day, you can’t stop thinking about him. About what it would mean to go back. About whether you even could.

That night, as you’re lying in bed, your phone buzzes again.

Bakugo: “I meant what I said. I’m sorry. For everything.”

You stare at the message, your heart pounding. You know he’s not just apologizing for firing you. He’s apologizing for shutting you out, for breaking you, for making you feel like you didn’t matter.

You don’t reply. Not yet.

Instead, you set your phone down, staring blankly at the wall as the weight of everything crashes over you. The apology sits in your chest, heavy and unresolved. It’s not enough, not after months of silence, but it’s also everything you’ve been longing to hear. You let it linger in your mind for the rest of the next day, mindlessly going about your routine until you lie awake in bed the following night

The city hums faintly outside your window, but your thoughts are louder. You think of Bakugo—of his press conference, of his apology, of everything you’ve been through.

And finally, as the clock ticks past midnight, you pick up your phone.

Your fingers hover over the screen, hesitating. You could ignore him. You could let him feel the same silence he left you with. But a small, stubborn part of you wants answers. Wants closure. Wants him.

Taking a deep breath, you type out a response, your hands trembling slightly.

You: “I don’t know if sorry is enough. But if you want to talk, really talk, you know where to find me.”

You stare at the message for what feels like an eternity before hitting send. The moment it delivers, you toss your phone onto the nightstand and bury your face in your pillow.

Now, all you can do is wait.

The days after the message are unbearable. He doesn’t know how to respond, doesn’t know if you even want him to, and he’s terrified of screwing things up more. Every time he picks up his phone to reply, he freezes, his mind racing with things he wants to say but can’t bring himself to. He leaves the conversation on read, knowing it’s making things worse but unable to stop himself.

Then there’s the interview. His PR team insists on it, saying it’ll help smooth over the public’s reaction to his “big reveal.” He doesn’t care about the opinions of people who didn’t matter a month ago, but he knows he can’t avoid it forever.

During the interview, the topic shifts to his Deafness and how it’s impacted his relationships—both professional and personal. He hesitates, his jaw tightening, but then, without meaning to, he brings you up.

“There was… someone who taught me a lot,” he admits gruffly, his hand clenching into a fist on his knee. “I pushed them away. I was a fuckin’ idiot. They deserved better.”

It’s the most anyone’s ever heard him talk about feelings, and when the clip circulates online later that day, everyone’s talking about it, people are guessing it’s you.

You don’t see the interview live, but Talia sends you a link with like ten exclamation points in the message. Reluctantly, you open it, and there he is on your screen—Bakugo, looking uncomfortable but honest. Hearing him admit he was an idiot feels… surreal. He’s not one for public displays, so for him to acknowledge you in an interview like this? It’s huge.

But still, it’s not enough. A few days pass. The tension lingers. And then, late one night, your phone buzzes. A voicemail. When you check it, your heart stops at the sound of his voice.

“Shit…” His words are slurred, and you can hear the clink of a bottle in the background. “I… I don’t even fuckin’ drink, but I needed… I don’t know, somethin’ to stop me from thinkin’ about you. But it didn’t work, and now I’m here, drunk as hell, leaving this dumbass voicemail because… because I’m a goddamn coward, and I can’t stop fuckin’ missing you.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, and it’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever heard him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time. “I’m sorry for everything. For bein’ an idiot, for not tellin’ you what you fuckin’ mean to me before I ruined it all.” There’s a long pause, and you can hear him breathing unevenly. “I don’t deserve you. I know that. But… I can’t stop hopin’ you’ll come back anyway.”

The voicemail ends, and you’re left staring at your phone, your heart pounding. The familiar sting of hurt and anger still sharp, but something deeper lingers: an aching sense of loss. The person who had once made you feel seen, understood, is now the one who’s broken that bond beyond recognition.

You want to ignore him. You want to erase him from your life completely, but you know you can’t and deep deep down you know you want him in your life again.

The next afternoon you’d been needed at red riots agency agency, the familiar chime of your phone breaks the stillness. It’s a message from the front desk, telling you a delivery has arrived for you.

You stand up, confused but curious, as you walk to the lobby. The package is large, wrapped in simple brown paper, with a handwritten note affixed to the top in elegant script. You turn the note over, your eyes scanning the words.

“I’m not good with this shit. I don’t expect this to fix everything, and I know I don’t deserve it, but I can’t keep pretending. I fucked up, and I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You mean more to me than I’ve ever been able to say.”

The signature at the bottom, written with shaky confidence, is unmistakable.

Bakugo.

Your heart skips. But it’s not the excitement you once felt when you’d get a text from him. It’s something else, something heavier. The flowers, fresh and vibrant, are beautiful—a sharp contrast to the flowers the guy from the bar had sent you. It’s clear this wasn’t a rushed thought or just a generic gesture. Bakugo took the time to choose something meaningful, something you’d actually like. It’s a reminder of who he can be when he tries, of the man who’s not only a hero but someone who truly knows you.

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over your phone screen for a moment before you type out a simple but sincere message:

You “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful. And the note… I appreciate it.”

You hit send, your stomach twisting in anticipation. The dots appear almost immediately, and then his reply comes through.

Bakugo: “I meant what I said. I’ve been running from this for too long, like a fucking coward and I’m sorry for that. I’m ready to talk. I should’ve done it sooner, but I’m asking now. Can we meet?”

Your heart races. The words hit you harder than you expected, like a punch to the gut, but it’s also the closest thing to an apology you’ve gotten. You close your eyes for a second, letting the feeling settle before you type out your response.

You “We can meet. But I need you to understand, I’m not going to make this easy for you. It’s not just going to go back to how it was. I have to think about this too.”

You hesitate before hitting send, but then, your finger presses the button. The message is out there now.

A few seconds pass, and then his reply comes through.

Bakugo: “I get it. I’m not asking for it to go back to how it was. I just need to talk.”

You meet him late afternoon in a dimly lit cafe, he’d requested the private back room for the two of you. You see him his back straight, posture tense, but there’s a softness in his eyes that you didn’t expect. The sight of him makes your chest tighten, and for a split second, all the hurt floods back, threatening to break through. But you swallow it down, pushing the emotions back where they belong, at least for now.

Your usual coffee order was sitting in front of the chair when you arrived, he’d remembered.

When he sees you, his jaw clenches, and he stands up. His gaze is apologetic, but guarded. He says nothing as you sit down across from him. There’s an unspoken distance between you, both of you unsure of how to start.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Awkward. You glance at him, not knowing whether to wait for him to speak first or if you should just get it over with. It’s him who breaks the silence first.

“I… I don’t know how to start this,” he admits, his voice low and rough.

You give him a pointed look, your arms crossed, but you don’t say anything. You want him to go first.

“Look, I know I fucked up,” Bakugo continues, his words rushed, his voice catching slightly as he forces them out. “I know I hurt you, and I can’t take that back.” His eyes shift down for a moment, but when they return to you, there’s something raw there, something he’s been holding back for too long. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was scared. I thought… I thought if I shut myself off, I wouldn’t drag you down with me. But I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

His hands are clenched into fists on the table, like he’s trying to hold himself together, but the vulnerability is leaking through.

“I was an idiot, and I know it,” he continues,

“I don’t know how to fix this,” his hands gripping the table tightly. “I don’t know how to make it right. But I… I’m willing to try. I’m ready to try.”

You swallow hard, unsure of how to respond, but his eyes are so desperate now. Not just for your forgiveness, but for something else. Something deeper.

“I don’t know if I can just forgive you, Bakugo,” you say softly, but firmly. “You hurt me. You made me feel like I didn’t matter. And it’s not something that just goes away with a couple of words.”

He flinches, the sting of your words landing harder than he expected, but he nods slowly. “I get it,” he mutters. “I don’t expect you to just forget. I don’t deserve that. But I… I’ve spent the last few months regretting the way I treated you. I’ve been a fucking mess.”

The silence stretches out, thick and uncomfortable, before he adds, almost like an afterthought, “I’m not saying this because I think it’ll fix anything… But I care about you. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know if I’m ready to say all the words… but you should know, I—” His voice hitches, and he grits his teeth, frustration flashing across his face. “I fucking need you. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, pushing you away. I can’t keep running from it.”

There it is. He’s not saying it outright, not yet, but it’s clear. It’s written in the tension in his voice, in the way he’s looking at you. He needs you. But that’s as far as he can admit right now. He’s too scared to say the words, but it’s all there in the way he’s speaking.

You exhale, looking down at your hands. The silence stretches between you like a heavy weight, but it’s different this time. It’s not suffocating, just… thick with everything unsaid. You want to push him further, but you’re not sure how much more he can take.

“Did you know?” you ask, voice trembling a little, though you try to keep it steady. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing in confusion. “What?”

“Did you know about my feelings for you?” you push, meeting his gaze, watching his expression shift as if something inside him clicks.

He hesitates, then lets out a frustrated breath, looking away for a moment. “I had a feeling,” he admits, voice low, almost reluctant. “But I told myself I was wrong. I let my own doubts cloud my mind… I was trying to convince myself it didn’t mean anything.”

You swallow, the words hitting deeper than you expected. “Why? Why didn’t you say anything? You just pushed me away, Bakugo.”

He stares at you, his expression torn, jaw clenched tightly. “I didn’t want to feel weak,” he says, barely above a whisper. “And I sure as hell didn’t want you to have power over me.” You furrow your brows. “What do you mean by that?”

He lets out a breath before continuing. “I don’t… like feeling like I’m not in control,” he admits, voice rough. “Everything about me has to be under my control. My strength, my image—everything. And then you… you came into my life, and everything just got… confusing. You made me think about everything differently and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You remain silent, taking in his words. The rawness in his admission shakes you, but there’s still a part of you that wants him to go further, to say the things you need to hear. But he’s still holding back.

“You make me weak, you know?” he finally adds, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, giving a small awkward laugh with the shake of his head. “And I hate it.”

The vulnerability in his voice hits you harder than you expect. It’s the same Bakugo, the one who once seemed invincible, but now, you see the cracks beneath it.

For a moment, you let the silence linger between you, trying to digest everything. “But you were never weak,” you say quietly, your voice softer now. “You just… didn’t want to let anyone in.”

His gaze softens, but he doesn’t say anything. The weight of the moment settles in, and you know that you’re both standing on the precipice of something—neither of you fully ready, but maybe, just maybe, willing to step forward.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing. “I’m not saying yes, Bakugo. I can’t just forget everything and run back into your arms.” You hold his gaze, steady. “But… I’m not saying no either.” You smile slightly, your hand reaching for his.

Bakugo grabs your hand. His grip is firm, but it’s not forceful—just a silent plea for you to understand. A glimmer of relief flashes in his eyes, though there’s still a heavy weight of uncertainty. He exhales sharply, relief mixed with a heavy dose of uncertainty in his eyes. “I get it. I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

The words hang between you, heavy but hopeful. There’s a long road ahead, and neither of you knows what’s at the end of it. But there’s a crack in the door now, a glimmer of possibility that you can’t ignore.

For the first time, Bakugo isn’t just pushing forward on instinct. He’s waiting for you. And for the first time, you’re not running away from him either.

And just like that, the lunches start again.

The first lunch is simple, a quiet little café tucked away in a corner of the city, far enough from prying eyes but close enough for comfort. Neither of you wants to make a big deal of it. No cameras, no expectations. Just two people sitting down, eating a meal, and talking like they used to.

Bakugo fidgets with his napkin, clearly not used to this kind of calm, but he’s trying. There’s a sense of hesitation between you, like neither of you wants to be the first to break the quiet. But then, unexpectedly, he asks you about your new job. The question is casual enough, but you both know it’s more than just small talk.

You smile, feeling the weight of his words in a way that feels like a first step, and you respond with a little more than you normally would. And for the first time in months, you both get lost in the conversation—just two people sharing a meal, no pretenses.

The next lunch is a bit easier. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where silence feels heavy, but the air between you has softened. Slowly, but surely, you’re both learning how to be around each other again without the need for words to fill every moment.

Another month passes, slow but steady. Every lunch feels like another brick being removed from the wall between you and Bakugo, but there’s still something unspoken between you. He’s still Bakugo—gruff, proud, and a little closed off when it comes to talking about what he feels.

But in his own way, he’s been complimenting you more than he ever has before. He praises your work, your passion, the way you handle yourself when you talk about your dreams. It’s not much, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat each time.

Then, one evening, you invite him over to your place for dinner. He doesn’t know what to expect, and honestly neither do you, but he agrees. The silence between you isn’t heavy this time—it’s comfortable. You’re both so used to the quiet now, to the small moments that don’t need to be filled with words.

You made one of his recipes—the one he’d hastily shoved into your arms with the muttered excuse of “making too much” all those weeks ago. You’re eating casually, and he’s telling you a story from his latest mission, grumbling about his hero friend Chargebolt and his antics. You can’t stifle your laughter

You’re laughing so hard your sides hurt, gasping to catch your breath but when you look back up his eyes are on yours, watching you and his hands move again

BEAUTIFUL.

You feel your face flush and you try to hold back the smile that wants to plaster itself on your face, but you know he sees it. You quickly change the subject. “I need to meet him one day. Chargebolt”

After dinner he helps you wash dishes and it’s all.. oddly domestic in a way that gives you butterflies, and you have no idea how he feels, only the way sparks ignite when your fingertips brush as you hand him dishes to dry. The tension is thick, and you can’t take it anymore. Before you know it, you flick the water from your hands onto him. He shoots daggers at you with his gaze, but then, unexpectedly, he smiles. you’re laughing and you do it again but he grabs your hands

And.. you stand there, frozen for a minute with his hands holding yours, his crimson gaze meeting yours and it’s softer now, nothing like the harsh intensity you saw back in the conference room all that time ago.

His hands and eyes fall from your and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, he goes to open his mouth but hesitates, shaking his head and raising his hands instead

He brings his two closed hands together, fingertips touching and bouncing off each other lightly.

KISS.

Can I kiss you?

Your eyes immediately shoot to his and you nod and that’s it. The tension that’s been building over the past month snaps. You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re in each other’s arms. His lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s both desperate and tender, all the words neither of you has been able to say spilling out in that single moment.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his hands trembling slightly as he cups your face. “Please… I can’t keep pretending I don’t need you,” he admits, his voice raw, the weight of everything he’s been holding back finally pouring out.

Bakugo’s hands hover near your sides, as if unsure whether to pull you closer or give you space, like he’s waiting for you to tell him what comes next. You both stand there for a moment, the silence enveloping you again, but this time it doesn’t feel awkward. It feels like the calm after a storm, like the tension has dissipated, but there’s still more to work through.

You smile softly, reaching for his hand, the warmth of his skin grounding you. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, squeezing his fingers gently.

He nods, like he’s trying to process the weight of that assurance. “Good,” he mutters, and for once, the sharpness in his tone is gone, replaced by something softer. Something a little uncertain, but real.

Without thinking, you pull him down to sit with you on the couch, your bodies close but not quite touching. You both need time. Time to catch up with each other, time to figure out how to navigate this new phase of whatever this is between you two.

“So… what now?” you ask, voice small, but hopeful.

He leans back into the cushions, staring at the ceiling for a moment as if he’s thinking. When he finally speaks, his voice is gruff again, but there’s a flicker of something else there. “Now, we take it slow,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “I’m not asking for a lot. I don’t know how to do all the shit I should’ve said before, but I’m here now. For real. And I’m not running away from this.”

It’s the most honest thing he’s said in weeks, maybe months, and it means everything to you. It’s not perfect, and it’s not a fairytale, but you can see the cracks in his armor, the rawness that’s finally coming through. He’s not pretending anymore, and that’s the first step.

You nod, resting your head against his shoulder. “I’m not asking for perfect either. Just… just us, okay?” “Yeah,” he replies, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place. “Just us.”

And with that, it feels like the tension between you has finally broken. You’re not all the way there yet, and you know it’ll take time. But for the first time in a long while, you feel like there’s hope. Not a perfect solution, but something real, something worth fighting for.

As you sit there, quietly, his arm wraps around you, pulling you closer. Neither of you speaks for a while, just feeling the comfort of each other’s presence. There’s still a long road ahead, but for now, you’re okay. And that’s all you need.

You’re both in this together.

You move closer, and he instinctively moves to hold you in his arms. Everything feels right, and you relax into him, letting his presence comfort you until your soft breaths even out, and you drift to sleep.

He glances down at your sleeping figure, careful not to wake you as he shifts slightly. He takes a picture, knowing you’ll probably kill him for it later, but he can’t resist. With a soft smile, he posts it on his Instagram story.

“🤟@ y/nsigns”

I LOVE YOU.

—-

A/n: its my birthdayyy!! This is my present to yall tho

bakugo saying ily first?? Idk if the ily is too soon but at the same time they’ve known they each had feelings the whole time idc lmao. I really hope yall enjoyed the series! This is the first thing I wrote on tumblr!! I’m so appreciative of all the nice comments and everything love u guys <3

Tags: @poemeater @mimzyu @beebunsx x @v3n7s

@cielito--lindo @starrmage @unabletonotlovesatoru @beabamboo

[rekino2114]

How about Accidentally switching jerseys with the Manshine City girls?

Accidentally switching jerseys with the manshine city girls

A/n:Technically, I should have done the same prompt but with the bastard münchen girls first, but since there are a lot more characters there, I'll just do that next Sunday and do this first. Also I did male reader for this since that's how I did it in the pxg post but sorry if that's not what you wanted (also if the anon who requested the same thing with the bastard münchen girls reads this I'd like it if you let me know if you want male or gn reader)

Fem!seishiro nagi

"Hey nagi"

"............."

"Nagi!"

"............."

"NAGI!!!"

"..........."

Fed up with her friend ignoring her rei sighed and took the phone out of Nagi's hands

"Wha- hey I was playing, give it back"

"You can't use the phone we're literally about to go on the field"

Nagi sighed heavily and reassumed her permanent bored expression

"Do I really have to play? I don't feel like it"

"Why?"

"I wanna play games. I almost have enough points to go up a rank....if you give me my phone"

"I already said no, take it up with Prince if you don't wanna play"

"No.....talking with him would be such a hassle.....can you do it?"

"No"

The white haired girl sighed once against as she put her hands behind her head and started laying down on the floor of the changing room

"The team we're fighting is so weak though, I don't care about them. Going up against weak people is such a hassle"

She closed her eyes as rei looked at her annoyed before coming up with an idea

"But if you play you can impress y/n"

At the mention of your name, nagi opened one eye with as much interest as her expression could show

"Imagine how impressed he'd be if he saw you doing your best even against weaker teams, I'm sure he'll love you even more"

Nagi's mind drifted to all the cuddles and gaming sessions you would give her if she impressed you, so she decided to stand up and face rei

"OK I'll do it"

".........wait really?"

"Yeah, for y/n"

"Oh.....ok.......it was that easy?"

"What?"

"Nothing"

"OK.......do you think y/n would be more impressed if I did a bicycle kick or if I trap the ball really cool like usual?"

"I....don't know, just see during the game"

"Hm, I'll probably do both"

"OK, so put on the jersey and let's go"

"Oh........can you help me find it?"

".....isn't it in your bag?"

"Yeah......can you help me find it?"

"You.....you don't know where it is?"

"To be honest, I just took my phone out of it and threw it somewhere, I forgot where"

".............."

After a while of searching for nagi's bag (while the girl in question did absolutely nothing to help) rei found it thrown under one of the benches with most of the content spilled out of it so she just took the jersey that was nearby and gave it to her friend

"Oh thanks"

"It's.....nothing just put it on"

"......can you help me?"

".......what?"

"Can you help me put it on?"

".......if you tell me y/n helps you put your clothes on I swear i'll-"

"Why are you making it sound like such a big deal? He already saw all of my body"

"Yeah ok but.......why?"

"Putting clothes on is-"

"Such a hassle?......nevermind it's my fault for asking"

".....so are you gonna-"

"No"

The lazy genius sighed and finally started to put the jersey on. When she was finished, she looked at rei and gave her a thumbs up

"Finally. Let's go-......."

"Is something wrong?"

"......that's not your jersey is it?"

".....what?"

"Look it's so tight, the number on the shorts is not even yours"

Nagi looked down at her body and noticed what her friend was talking about

"Oh yeah......this is y/n's"

"......what?"

"The number, it's y/n's"

"....and why was y/n's jersey in your bag?"

"Probably cause it's actually his"

"I.......I won't ask anymore questions, just go switch jerseys"

"......can I not? It would be such a ha-"

"Please nagi just go"

"........fine"

Nagi went outside of her locker room and into yours, where she found you talking with some other teammates and approached you

"Oh hey nagi what are you-"

"Give me your jersey"

".......what?"

"We switched, this is yours"

"Oh did we? Sorry"

"It's not your fault, can you help me take this off though......please?"

"Oh ok"

You looked at your other friends for a bit and awkwardly told them to look away which they did, so you helped nagi put her clothes on, which she rewarded you for with a cheek kiss, and put yours on too

"OK we're done now"

"Cool"

"Let's go"

"Yeah......thanks, I don't know what I'd do without you"

"It's nothing sei, I would do any for you"

"....me too....as long as it's not too much of a hassle"

You laughed a bit and kissed her forehead as she held your hand while walking through the door

Fem!reo mikage

"Can you believe it? She continued hitting on him even after he told her he was taken"

".............."

"I swear every time y/n and I hang out there's some girl wanting to get with him, I get he's hot but he's mine!"

"............"

"Hey nagi, are you listening?"

".......not really"

Rei sighed and looked back at nagi, who was completely focused on her phone as always

"Whatever"

She grabbed a hair tie and looked at herself in the mirror before starting to style her hair in a bun

"By the way, do you know any restaurants nearby? I wanted to bring y/n somewhere nice tonight"

"Oh, can I come too?"

".....it's a date, like for me and y/n.....only"

"Oh.....I can bring my boyfriend too, then we can have a double date"

".......You're doing this just because I'm going to pay and you want free food right?"

"....yeah, you always say yes when I ask you for money to spend on dates anyway, this shouldn't be different"

"I guess.....fine you can come just don't disturb me and y/n too much"

Nagi hummed in approval and cheered a bit because she got another kill in the game.

"Yay! Kill streak! I think I got a new record of kills"

"Hehe, that's nice"

When she finished styling her hair rei looked one last time in the mirror and turned back towards nagi

"OK I'm ready, we can go now"

Her friend nodded, and the two of them started walking towards the field, stopping once they saw chigiri stretching on the sideline

"hi chigiri"

"Oh, hi nagi, rei, what's up?"

"Nothing much.....y/n isn't here yet?"

"No, he said he couldn't find.....his jersey, hey rei do you mind turning around?"

"Eh? Why?"

"I wanna check something"

The chameleons girl did as chigiri said and she was met with a sigh coming from behind her

"So that's where it is"

"What?"

"Y/n's jersey, you're wearing it?"

"...............I AM?"

"Yep, I genuinely have no idea how you didn't figure it out before"

"Nagi! You were behind me this whole time, why didn't you say anything?"

Nagi, who had in the meantime sat on one of the benches and started playing again, looked up from her phone slightly to see her friend's angry expression, only to look back down immediately after

"Ah.....it was an accident? I thought it was something you decided together or something like that"

"....and you still didn't say anything?"

The lazy genius simply shrugged as the mikage heir's anger quickly subsided as she was very familiar with nagi's attitude having known her for this long

"I'll just go give this to him"

"Yeah, good idea"

Rei went to the men's locker room, where she found you still looking around for your jersey

".....heyyyy darling....can I tell you something"

"Oh hi rei, sure"

".......I might have actually taken your jersey"

"........I see"

"It was an accident, I'm sorry I don't even know how it happened"

"It's fine, I don't mind"

You took out her own jersey that you found in your bag, and she did the same as you started changing

"How much do you want for the inconvenience?"

"What do you mean?"

"That was probably pretty frustrating. I can pay you back if you want....literally"

"Oh no it's fine"

"If you're worried about me or something don't be, you know I'd spend all my money on you"

"No no you really don't need to"

You pressed a kiss to rei's cheek, which caused the purple haired girl to blush

"All I need is you"

"......fine but tomorrow I'm taking you shopping and you can't say no"

You giggled as you two held hands and started walking forward

"I guess I can't complain about that"

Fem!hyoma chigiri

Everything was relatively chill in the manshine city's women changing room, nagi was on her phone as usual, and rei was watching her play

"Oh look a rare item"

"Ohhhh so lucky"

The two high fived as they focused more on the game......however their focus was broken by an angry chigiri storming out of the bathroom

"OK which one of you took my hair conditioner?"

"......what?"

"It's not in my bag, so one of you must have taken it"

"No I mean, why are you styling your hair before a match, like right before, you already put your jersey on"

"Cause I need to, I can't go there with trashy hair, especially if y/n's there"

"Does he really care that much?"

"Well I do, and I care about the thousands of spectators who will see us, how can we look like the power couple we are if we don't look absolutely stunning?"

".....ok....anyway it wasn't us, my hair is already naturally beautiful-"

"That's debatable at best"

Rei narrowed her gaze at chigiri but continued talking

"And nagi doesn't really....do body care without her boyfriend"

A sigh escaped chigiri's lips as she turned around and went in the bathroom

"Fine I guess I should look more closely"

"Wait chigiri, did you ask prince to change numbers or something?"

"No why?"

"........can you move your hair out of the way?"

"What?"

"I wanna see the name on the jersey you're wearing"

The red panther moved her hair to the right, allowing rei to see the name on the jersey clearly now

"......why.....are you wearing y/n's jersey?"

".....what?"

"Yeah that's his last name"

The red-haired woman quickly took off the jersey to confirm what rei said, and she was disappointed to see it was indeed your jersey

"What? How did-......wait then that probably means that the reason I didn't find my conditioner-"

"Was because you took his bag"

"......I'm gonna go give this back to him.....you two don't you dare say anything about this"

The two girls nodded, and chigiri quickly made her way to the other dressing room (very, very quickly with her speed)

"Hi hyoma, what's wrong?"

"my jersey"

"What do you mean?"

"We switched bags. I'm actually wearing your jersey"

"......oh..sorry for not noticing......I just thought you left your hair products in my bag"

"It's fine, here's yours"

She started to take off her jersey as you did the same

"And here's yours"

You two put everything back on and double checked just to make sure it was the right ones

"Seems like everything's OK now"

"Yeah, sorry again"

"I told you it's ok......but can you give me my conditioner now I need it"

"Why? Your hair always look perfect"

"It's because I always look perfect to you"

"Yeah because you are"

"Then let me show you how perfect these legs are"

"..........."

"I-I mean how fast they are. I mean speed and you knew it"

"Yeah, yeah don't worry"

[calirph]

𝐉𝐎𝐀𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 𝐀𝐒 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒

in Gladiator (2000).

[basilsbestpainting]

Ya know, it's a good thing I didn't watch Gravity Falls as it aired because Dipper would have either sent me into deeper denial about myself or I would have seen myself on screen in ways I didn't want.

Which, honestly now that I'm older it's really nice to see a young character who acts *exactly* like I did, to a t. But when I was twelve? Yeah I probably would have gone a bit apeshit. Especially because that's when I started realized Gender was A Thing and pretending it wasn't.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour Is Upon Us - Part 4

In which you escape to paradise with the love of your life.

Warnings: nothing unless you hate happiness. Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.4k

- The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 2 - The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Part 3 - Master List

Phulay Bay, Thailand July, 2025

yourpersonalinsta posted

456,938 likes liked by taylorswift, redbullracing, alexandrasaintmleux, and others. yourpersonalinsta out of office tagged: maxverstappen1 kikagomes omg where are yoooou? >>>yourpersonalinsta thailand! he planned literally everything. all i had to do was show up. user928 max is never beating best boyfie on the grid allegations now redbullracing bring us back a coconut! >>>yourpersonalinsta hahahaha think max can smuggle one out in his backpack??? >>>redbullracing if he tries hard enough, he can do anything!

"Max, where'd you go?" You call, voice echoing out over the empty terrace of the beach villa Max had booked for you two during F1's summer break.

Last year, the two of you had spent a few weeks on a boat off of the Amalfi coast with some of your friends but this year, it was just the two of you. This entire trip had been a complete surprise, Max having planned the entire thing. You had gotten a text one afternoon just a few days into the month long F1 break from Max telling you to pack a bag (heavy on the bikinis and lingerie, as personally requested by your boyfriend) and to be ready to leave the apartment in Monaco in an hour.

You had bustled about, a mix of excitement and anxiety twisting in your chest. To be quite honest, you had been looking forward to having some down time at home, just the two of you. It had only been a few months since you had permanently moved from New York to Monaco and you were far from settled, having spent most of the first half of the year traveling with Max.

The moment Max burst into your shared apartment though, all of your anxieties evaporated into thin air. He had never looked more relaxed than he had that morning, telling you he was taking you on a trip and to not ask any questions. You, of course, dutifully obeyed.

Which was how you found yourself at one of the most private and romantic beach resorts in Thailand, currently looking for your seemingly missing boyfriend. You'd been here for a few days now, soaking in the sand and sun and quiet peacefulness the resort had to offer. Mornings were spent slowly in bed, breakfast often skipped in favor of time spent underneath (or on top of) Max. Afternoons scuttled by slowly, spent under the sun on the beach in your bikini being oogled by Max. And nights were spent together, either in the media room of the villa watching movies or under the stars talking about anything and everything with the man that had completely stolen your heart.

It was in those quiet moments, while you sat snuggled up between Max's legs, back pressed firmly into his chest, on the beach where you were in awe of how much your life had changed in a little over a year. How quickly Max had swooped into you life, into your heart, and never left.

The villa is quiet and empty, you assume that Max has wandered down onto the beach or out near the private pool while you had taken a quick shower before your dinner reservations. Something on the bed catches your eye though and you cross the wooden planked floor to read the note that sits on top of a white linen dress.

My love, I know we had reservations at the resort's resturant tonight but I took the liberty of moving that to some place a little quieter. Put on the dress and meet me out on that little bluff where we always watch the sunset, dinner is waiting. all of the love my soul possesses, Max

Tears prick at your eyes when you finish the note. Laying on the bed is a white linen dress that you had no idea was even in the villa. It's brand new, you'd never even seen it before. The moment you pull it on over your head, you can't help but be impressed. It fits like a dream and when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you can't help but smile. The dress is cut perfectly to your figure, the neckline scooping down low to show off an extra bit of clevege and the hem hitting just below your knee. You're not quite sure how Max did it, but the dress fits you like a glove.

Your hair is still a bit damp, but you're eager to find where Max is and what he's up to tonight so you opt for a long braid down your back.

When you step out on the back veranda of the villa, the sun is hanging low in the sky, just above the sparkling blue water that stretches out in front of you. The resort sits on a little bluff overlooking the ocean, romantically tucked into the side of rolling green hills and a lush forest behind you.

Just beyond the edge of the villa's back yard is a little outcropping of land that juts over the beach below. Every night since you had arrived, Max had insisted on making a point to sit on this little private bluff and watch the sun go down. No matter what you were doing or what you had planned that evening, watching the sunset tucked deeply in Max's arms, became a tradition you wanted to continue forever.

The cool grass tickles your bare feet as you cross the lush green lawn. For a moment, you don't even look towards where you know Max is standing because you're so distracted by the crash of the ocean waves and glimmer of the sunset on the water. When you do look over though, you stop in your tracks, pupils blowing wide at the scene before you.

There, right on your little plot of paradise, stands your boyfriend. He's surrounded by what looks like hundreds and hundreds of white hydrangeas arranged in a large circle. Clusters of candles dot the edge of the circle casting a soft glow over the entire scene.

Max stands in the middle of all of this, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his khaki shorts. He's wearing the navy linen shirt you bought him for his birthday last year, top few buttons undone at his throat. The breeze off the water tugs a bit at his hair, long from a busy season with little time to stop and get a haircut. The fact that you liked his hair longer also had a lot to do with him refusing to cut it lately, but he'd never admit that to anyone but you.

When Max sees you walk out of the villa for the firs time, he thinks he might just pass out right there. The dress Kika and Alexandra had helped him pick out was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen you wear, besides that navy and red lacy lingerie set you had worn for his birthday last year, of course. He had been planning this for months now, much to Daniel and Lando's surprise. His two friends were the only other people who knew what this entire trip was really about. They had expressed their surprise at the plans since you hadn't even celebrated your one year anniversary when he had set all of this in motion. Max had simply replied with 'when you know you know' and no one had questioned it again.

The red and gold ring box sits heavy in his pocket, his fingers tracing anxious patterns over it's smooth surface. He wasn't nervous about what he was going to do. No, what he was about to do was the most confident and self assured decisions he had ever made. What he was nervous about was you saying no. He wasn't sure if his heart would be able to take a rejection.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you approach Max. Unsure but confident about what's about to happen all at the same time. The conflicting emotions whirl around in your stomach in a hurricane of anxiety and shock.

"Hi baby." Max murmurs as soon as you step into the circle with him. His arms reach for you and to his great relief, you melt into him eagerly.

"Hi." Your voice nothing but breathy whisper. A smile that could power most of Europe shimmers across your face. "What's all this?"

"I know I said we were going to eat dinner out here, but I wanted to talk to you first." Max buries his head in your hair, inhaling the sweet and spicy scent of your shampoo, still lingering in your hair after your shower.

He takes a few moments and you are simply content to enjoy the feeling that settles over you. Outside of this little bluff, nothing else exists and you could stay here for the rest of your life and be completely content.

When Max pulls himself together, he pulls back a little so he can see you without craning his neck. "The moment you smiled at me the first time, my entire world shifted beneath my feet." His voice is rough, Dutch accent becoming more prominent the more emotional he gets. "The first time I kissed you in my drivers room in Miami, I knew I was done. I have never met a kinder, more ambitious, or more confident woman than you. Just being able to exist in your orbit has been the blessing I never knew I needed. I know it hasn't been long but I can't figure out how I ever managed to exist before you and I never want to find out what it feels like to exist after you."

Max pauses then, drawing in a shaky breath. Blood rushes past your ears as your knees threaten to buckle. You had hoped this day would come for you and Max but you had never expected it to be so quickly. Like Max, you had known pretty fast that he was it for you. You had tried to fight the growing feeling that your relationship could work its way into marriage but as you continued to settle further into life with him, you fought the feeling less and less.

He sinks to his knee then and looks up at you, those ice blue eyes that you dream about shining up at you. "I want to see you walk down the aisle towards me in a white dress. I want to see your belly grow when you carry our babies. I want to hear my children call you their mama and I want your babies to call me daddy. I want all of this and an entire lifetime of love with you and only you. Will you give me that, baby? Will you marry me?"

For a moment you're completely unable to breathe. The words Max said to you etched themselves onto your bones, words you'd never forget until your dying day. They were words that were to be written down. Words that your grandchildren would cry over one day when they stumbled upon your old journals in the attic.

Those kinds of things, those words, deserved to live in the universe alone for a bit, they're so powerful. You gave them space and respect, allowing what Max had said to you wash over your body.

"Oh my God. Of course. Yes. Please." You babble, really unable to make your mouth move in the way you want it. All you know is that you had never been so certain about anything in your entire existence.

Max slips the massive rock onto your finger before standing up to his full height. The diamond that winks up at you in dim candlelight is something that could be compared to the iceberg that sunk the titanic. Once the ring is secured on your hand, tonight's second perfect fit, Max catches your chin in his fingers to tip your head up towards him. When he kisses you, lips meeting yours so achingly tender, the entire world goes quiet. Everyone who could have possibly existed simply vanishes.

You stay like that for several moments, caught up in your boyfri- no, not boyfriend, fiance's arms and simply kiss him with every ounce of love you can wring out of your soul. His tongue licks into your mouth, eliciting a kitten like mewl of pleasure from the back of your throat. It's a sweet and tender kiss, soft and celebratory after what's just occurred.

"I love you." You say against his lips when you need a moment to breathe.

"I love you too. More than life, lifeje." Max's hand comes up to frame the side of your face, rubbing his thumb across your swollen bottom lip.

All you can do is stare up at him, pupils blown wide open. "How long have you been planning this? I can't believe you did all this...for me? Just for me?" For someone who has often gone unseen in their own family, being doted on like Max does is sometimes confusing.

"Months. I've had help. Danny and Lando helped decide where and how to do this." You can't help but chuckle at the thought of Daniel and Lando, two of Max's most unserious and unmarried friends, helping him plan a proposal.

"Alexandra and Kika too. They helped with the dress."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Those two bitches knew and didn't tell me!"

Max tilts his head back and laughs heartily. The sound sends a zing down your spine. "No, although I suspect they might have figured it out. I just told them I was taking you on a surprise date and needed help with an outfit."

"And of course I did all of this for you." Max continues, face turning serious. "I did this all for you because I wanted you to know how important you are to me. How much I need you in my life. You're my everything, baby."

Emotion clogs your throat as you fight to keep the tears from falling. "I can't wait to be your wife, Maxie."

yourpersonalinsta posted

1,293,938 likes liked by kikagomes, yourdad, danielricciardo, and others. yourpersonalinsta girlfriend < fiancé 💍 kikagomes ahhhhhhh congratulations pretty girl!!! you are going to make the most beautiful bride. WAIT OMG, is this why Max had Alex and I help buy that dress????? >>>yourpersonalinsta yes 🤭 love you kiks >>>user928 i'm sorry but am i reading this right? max had alex and kika help buy the dress that he had her wear to her own engagement. idk if i'll ever recover from this. user02938 MOM AND DAD ARE GETTING MARRIED landonorris glad he finally did it so i can stop hearing about how excited he is. >>>yourpersonalinsta love you too, lando >>>landonorris ❤️ maxverstappen1 can't wait to start calling you mrs. verstappen >>>user0283 i cannot be normal about this >>>user0029 i have no one to send this too redbullracing our favorite couple together forever!!! congrats you two (liked by author and maxverstappen1)

tags: @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley

[rumplereids]

wonderstruck.

part one. tags: spencer reid x fem!reader. tech analyst!reader. early-s1!spencer. a/n: tech analyst!reader won’t leave my little brain. i hope u like this :) masterlist. requests are open !

You were 21 when you got recruited into the bureau. Barely a graduate, and already on a FBI watchlist. Honestly, the only reason you’re under their watchful eyes is because of a lapse in judgment.

To celebrate the semester ending, your roommate decided that you both needed to get drunk. Being a psychology major with a pre-med roommate leads to tequila shots in your own dorm room. It’s the convenience and comfort of your own space that got you so drunk. This situation led to this: you admitting to your roommate, with heavy eyes, that you can “hack, you know. I learned when I was 15.”

She sat up from her place on the floor.

“Really? I don’t believe you!” she giggles, and then hiccups.

“I so can!” there’s indignation and a want to prove yourself in the tone of your voice.

“Okay, show me!”

Shuffling on heavy feet, you plop down in front of your laptop. A few clicks and the comforting clacks of your keyboard, and then a window pops open. You look at the wide-gaped mouth of your roommate. “What are you hacking?”

You hum, “I don’t know.”

And then you remember the talk from a few days ago. Two agents from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit came over to your college to talk about criminal profiling to psychology majors and anyone else interested.

Completely inebriated, you manage to hack into their database. Your hazy mind doesn’t forget to compliment the beauty and intricacy of the codes and firewalls you broke down.

At Quantico, Virginia, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia rushes into her unit chief’s office.

“Sir, somebody is attempting to get into my system. I think they’re trying to communicate?”

Hotch follows Garcia into her office, the quickness of their steps catching the attention of Dr. Spencer Reid who was seated at his desk, skimming over a case report.

When Hotch gets into Penelope’s ‘lair’, his eyes squint, adjusting to the dimmed lights and bright screens. On the main monitor, a window displaying the barebones of a text chat is open.

<ATHEN411> ????

<ATHEN411> hiiiiidfgsd

<YOU> Who is this?

<ATHEN411> ohymgofd i didnt think anyonewould alsnwer

<ATHEN411> wh o it sthis?

<YOU> BAU Section Chief Aaron Hotchner.

<ATHEN411> omfdg i know uuu !! jason mentoined u

<YOU> Jason?

<ATHEN411> yhuhh jason digeon or sumn omg i cant tpoye

<ATHEN411> sorry

<YOU> Jason Gideon? How do you know him?

<ATHEN411 disconnected.>

You’ve completely forgotten about the conversation. Until, a few days later. You’re turning the corner of the hallway to get into your dorm. Backpack slung on a shoulder, arms full of your laptop, binders and a soft-bound copy of your final paper. You stop in your tracks when you see two men stationed outside your room’s door.

One man was in a shirt, jeans, and combat boots. He also had sunglasses on. The other had a permanent furrow to his brows, dressed formally in a suit and tie.

“Hi, can I help you?” you ask, hand reaching into your hoodie pocket for your keys and pepper spray.

The one in sunglasses holds up a badge and ID.

“FBI. I’m Agent Morgan, this is Agent Hotchner. Are you Y/N L/N?”

You gulp, wondering why they knew your name.

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

Your bring out your keys, and you notice how Agent Hotchner eyes the pepper spray keychained to it.

“Um, yeah. We can talk inside? My roommate’s still out.”

You unlock your door and walk in, the agents following in after you. Dropping your bag on your desk chair, you turn to ask the agents, “How can I help you?”

Agent Hotchner asks, “Are you familiar with the name athen-four-one-one?”

You look up at them guilty.

“It’s athena-eleven.”

“So, it’s you?” Agent Morgan clarifies.

“Yes. How did you find me?”

The two men share a glance. A silent conversation passing with you unknowing.

“Two nights ago, you hacked into the BAU’s database.”

You look at them in suprise, “I did?”

“Yes,” Agent Hotchner says, passing a folder to you. Inside are images and a transcript of messages shared between a ‘P.GARCIA’ and ‘ATHEN411’.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, realizing what’s happening.

“I was drunk off my ass two nights ago! I’m so sorry,” that catches Agent Morgan’s attention.

“You were drunk?”

“Yeah, my roommate and I were celebrating our exams. I didn’t… Am I in trouble?”

Agent Hotchner raises a hand in a placating gesture, “You were drunk when you hacked into the bureau’s database?” Confusion and slight amusement evident in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you confess, “It was just a dare! I don’t even remember much of it.”

Agent Morgan looks as if he doesn’t know what to think about the situation. You feel the same. Agent Hotchner extends a hand to get the file back from you, and you give it to him easily.

“Would you go with us back to the station?”

“What? For what? Am I being sued?”

“The opposite. I would like to conduct a proper interview.” Agent Hotchner explains.

“An interview? For what?”

“A job as a technical analyst at Quantico.”

You look at them, eyes furrowing in confusion and disbelief, “What? I can’t!”

“Why not?”

You gesture toward your desk, “I still have a paper to pass!”

Meeting Penelope Garcia was like a dream come true.

“I should have realized! The triple-stacked firewall should’ve been so obvious! The Black Queen signature!”

The blonde’s eyes sparkle, happy to meet a match.

“Athena-Eleven! I didn’t even notice you were in my systems until you sent your first message.”

You feel your chest puff up at the indirect praise.

“You were one of my idols,” you admit, “Your exposé on Griffith Industries was just… stunning! Absolutely flawless. You had a section in your code that I used to build my private server—” Agent Hotchner interrupts your spiel.

He gestures to the rest of the room, where agents were seated at a round table.

“This is Y/N L/N, the unit’s newest technical analyst. ” he says, and you give a shy wave. You get a wave back from the agent wearing glasses. He’s cute. Have you seen him before?

“This is Jennifer Jareau, our communications liaison,” you shake her outstretched hand. She’s so pretty, you start to think, gorgeous blue eyes too.

“You’ve met Derek Morgan,” Agent Hotchner says, and Agent Morgan gives a two finger salute, his hands wrapped around a coffee cup.

“Agent Jason Gideon,” you return his handshake, mumbling a shy; “Hello, sir. Nice to see you again.”

And then, “This is Dr. Spencer Reid—”

“Oh! You were with Agent Gideon at the seminar! You talked a bit about geoprofiling, and how an unsub’s subconscious can’t help but stick close to home, which helps you triangulate the—” Agent Hotchner lets out another soft cough.

“Um, yeah. I did. Nice to meet you,” he gives another small wave, smile close-lipped and awkward. Endearing. He’s really cute. “I don’t really shake hands.”

You nod, “I get that, germs and stuff. It’s actually, weirdly, safer to kiss.”

You don’t see the way JJ and Derek look at each other, nor do you notice when Penelope whispered, “Oh my God, there’s two of them.”

“Your code name, it’s for the Athena, right? The Greek goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft?” Dr. Reid asks you, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yeah. I love greek mythology.”

He gives you a smile, “I do, as well. I’m wondering about the eleven though. Does it mean anything?”

You tsk’d through your teeth, “The angel number 1111’s often seen as a spiritual wake-up call and awakening. I thought it was fitting, and I was 15 when I chose the name, okay? Excuse little old me.”

“That’s cool,” Dr. Reid admits. If he remembers your file right, you were barely 17 when you became a trademark and known name in underground hacking circles. He can’t properly meet your eyes, struck in awe. Athena. It’s perfect for you.

“Y/N formally starts her job with us in three days,” Hotch informs the team, “Be kind.”

With a final word, Gideon and Hotch start to return to their offices.

Derek straightens from his position on the office chair. “I am very kind!”

“He didn’t say anything about you,” Penelope teases.

“Ooh, that says a lot, Morgan. It says so much,” JJ teases back.

You smile at them, your new co-workers, taking the seat JJ was gesturing at for you. The three continue bickering, you start to tune them out as you make eye contact with Dr. Reid. The apple of his cheeks blush red, and you can’t stop the grin on your lips from getting wider. He’s downright enchanting.

[takes1]

newest drop was fire bro🙌🔥🔥🔥

oikawa crushing on quiet!reader

ts made me smile. much appreciated ❤️ no smut this time; i'm getting smut fatigue. needed a short palette cleanser. thinking about doing some short form stuff while i work through the pre-january requests.

warnings. none, sfw

details. fem!reader / fluffy, feel-good fic / quiet!reader / oikawa crushing / 'weird'!reader / nerd x popular trope / oikawa is obsessed with you / based off of the 'hi wayne/bye wayne' audio / whipped!oikawa / iwa being a good person / 800 words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3.

"Hi, Tohru," You said, just as you did every day, to turn in your homework to the teacher's desk.

Oikawa was leaning forward, engaged in finishing a hushed story with Iwazumi. But your light, airy tone -void of any old, tired motive- took precedence with no further thought.

"-And then he was-- Hi, (Y/n)."

He perked up in many ways, just in time for you to walk by his desk again. Eyes wider, an uncontrollable smile brightening his former, serious expression- his brow softer, as he twisted to watch you return to your seat.

It was unclear why you felt comfortable enough to be on a first-name basis. Oikawa didn't mind. It distinguished you, like many things did, from the girls who only spoke to him because they were after something.

"The fuck was that?" Iwa searched his expression, finding some kind of emotion, or thought pattern at the very least, that he had never seen on his friend before.

Oikawa turned back around, confused, but not defensive.

"What?"

"That," Iwa asserted, shortly before he was called to face forward. He muttered, under his breath, "-That look on your face."

Oikawa was left to figure it out, a hint of effort on his brow, for the remainder of class.

Lunch eventually came around. He was still feeling different, and wasn't sure if it was what Iwa pointed out, or not.

In the process of standing to grab his lunch from his bag, and go eat outside like he usually did with his friend, he caught a quick glimpse of you. You were folding another addition to the row of tiny, paper cranes on your desk.

"C'mon," Iwa shouldered his bag.

Oikawa took a step, but lingered a moment longer.

You were sitting alone, but you didn't look sad about it. The seat in front of you was empty.

He filled it, despite Iwa's quiet protests, and sat backwards to watch you. The bench they usually chose to sit at sucked, because it was regularly bombarded with people he didn't know, all trying to talk to him. He usually never got to eat his lunch.

"Hi Tohru," You smiled, choosing not to look at him, in order to focus on your craft.

His reply was a fond sigh, "Hi, (Y/n)."

From here, he had the privilege of finally getting a good look at your face.

There was a sort of mild, unbothered, pleasantness to you. You weren't worried about anything else. You didn't give a damn that he was here, much less that he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

Iwa flicked him, hard, in the back of the head. It was after he shot back upright, rubbing the sore spot, that he realized he had been leaning slowly forward.

"Don't be a dick," Iwa muttered.

The assumption was such a leap in logic that Oikawa had no idea what he meant. You added another crane, that tiny, permanent smile on your pretty face.

He ignored him. Instead, he opted to try talking to you for the first time, "Um- are you going to eat your lunch?"

Still not looking at him, you were tearing off another page-- "I forgot it."

Again, you didn't seem like you minded such a dismal thing. Without much further thought, he grabbed his and set it in your workspace.

This was the only time you would look up at him.

A shudder wracked down his spine, rendering his voice a bit weak, "Yo-u can have mine."

There was some consideration in your eyes, before you pushed it back towards him, and refocused on your paper, "No. You need to eat. Aren't you playing a big match, soon?"

The way you asked made it seem like you weren't looking for an answer.

"Uh-," He did you the liberty of freeing up your desk space again, lunch box in his clammy hands, "Yeah- yeah, we are."

Iwa was getting tired of standing- you heard him shift his weight and sigh. He was still under the assumption that Oikawa was trying to flirt for some useless, and cruel joke.

"You can sit there," You motioned to the desk next to Oikawa.

His inflection was stilted, and his cadence was slow as he, hesitantly, took a seat.

"Thanks..."

It was quiet for a while, aside from the other students chatting from further back in the classroom. Iwa watched his friend face forward and eat slowly, slouched at the shoulders. It was an unusual sight.

Gradually, it dawned on him that this superficial pretty boy -in a rare, natural phenomenon- held a deeply genuine and innocent crush.

When they got up at the ring of the next bell, you were about 20 cranes deep. Oikawa left you, with another wistful stare, to head back to his seat. Though he loved how you didn't need to fill the silence, he wished he could make more conversation with you.

The classroom began filling up again, getting louder, and crowded for the next subject.

He was flitting his pencil between his sluggish fingers, a frown deep and heavy against his knuckles, when you came into view once more.

Another precious moment of hopeful, heart-pounding glee.

You placed a crane on his desk, then straightened it up, "Bye, Tohru."

This time, you waited long enough for him to properly respond, dawning that uncontrollable grin again, "Bye, (Y/n)."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu

[bunny-jpeg]

secret tattoo (vol. 4)

lewis hamilton

tags: smut/pwp, tattoos, rivals au, driver!reader, (former) lewis fangirl!reader, age gap (20s/30s), missionary position, lovers/friends/rivals, pull-out method, 2k words

max edition // charles edition // lando edition // toto edition

you made a face when you saw lewis cross the paddock at the start of the 2025 season. dressed in his new ferrari gear. you didn't want to admit that he looked good in red.

maybe it was because he dressed like the red flag he was. he was all smiles and waves as the press wanted the first look at the new ferrari driver. when he spoke, he sounded confident, but when he caught a glimpse of you. his expression shifted, but quickly he was smiles once more for the camera.

but you tried not to feel jealous after all, you learned long ago. to never meet your heroes.

you and lewis were friendly when you were a rookie. he took a liking to you. he once fondly said that you brought a new life into the sport and he couldn't wait to see what you could accomplish. under his praise you felt warmed like a plant in the sun. there was magnetic energy to him that drew you in.

when you were successful, he cheered you on. slaps on the back and handshakes. bright smiles and cheers over (non-alcoholic) drinks. there was a companionship. he was also the first person you spoke to after your boyfriend back home couldn't take the distance and left. you trusted lewis.

and then he took your ferrari seat. you sat dumbfounded, the only words you could hear were, ferrari isn't a place for a woman. and that lewis would be a better fit for the team. while you still had a seat on the grid with williams. a dream was shattered, and by someone you trusted.

"i'm going to beat you and i'm going to beat that stupid fucking team." you snapped at lewis, "fuck you, fuck ferrari. i hope this season is your worst." before you stomped off, your ears burned and eventually you cried in your car.

thus started one of the more intense rivalries in the last couple of years. it overshadowed anyone else. you and lewis, friends turned enemies. butted heads over every little thing.

photos of you two arguing in the paddock. him pointing to the screen while you wagged your finger at him. you both locked in a heated debate until your team principals came to break it up.

when you lost momentum at the canadian grand prix, lewis simply smiled at you and said, "keep up, or get out." and you wondered, for a brief moment, if it was possible to get away with murder in canada.

you replied, looking him dead in the eyes as you replied, "i hope you never hear your national anthem at the podium ever again."

he smiled, it wasn't a press smile. it was the reassuring smile that he gave you when you two were closer. he said, "with the way things are going. they might be playing it when i get the championship."

rivalries turned up the heat, and heat led to passion. and after a night during the summer break in monaco. you ended up in lewis' apartment. months of bitterness came to a head. and while it wasn't a shock to either one of you.

it was a shock when he got you out of your jeans and saw ink on your skin. it wasn't a shock to see a driver's number on a driver's skin. but to see his number on your skin was something else. a small inked '44' on your thigh. somewhere that he knew many didn't see.

"what is-"

"i meant to get it covered up." you crossed your arms under him. you diverted your gaze and felt hot embarrassment. you sighed, "i was a fan of yours, lewis... before we were friends... before we were this."

he placed his hand over the tattoo and said, "i guess i am really on your mind all the time." he leaned in, "i guess even my rivals think about me every day."

you shifted, "hamilton. either you fuck me or call me a cab." you still felt embarrassed.

lewis smiled and leaned in, "i know it's a lot less permanent. but i still have that key chain of your rookie year helmet on my bag."

you made a face, "you said you got rid of it." you reached out and splayed your hands across his toned chest. across the dark ink of tattoos.

he leaned in further and your hands dropped to the bed. he looked at you and said, "you think about me. i think about you. i guess we're terrible rivals." he took you by the hips, "i carry a piece of you with me. you have me tattooed on your skin." he leaned in further to capture your lips against his.

you moaned a little. there was a joke to be a made that rivals toed the line between enemies and lovers. and tonight, under the soft light of your bedroom. you were lovers. the skins of rivals were shed at the front door. when he sank his cock into you, your nails dug into his strong shoulders.

"we're terrible rivals." you said when the kiss was broken. you laid under him, you moved a little as you accommodated his size. it wasn't like you were having much sex. not while racing was on the brain. the month off in july allowed from the rivalry to explode into something new. like a fuse and a spark.

lewis chuckled, "i guess we are. but, you do look hot when you're angry. i feel like this has driven you." he held onto your hips and started to rock against you. after all the time. all these moments between you two.

you moaned at the feeling. the heat between you two. there was something so magnetic about him. still. even after everything. it was hard to stay made when he treated you with such tenderness. the sex wasn't rough the way rivals fucking should be. it wasn't tender either the way virgins would be. rather it was like the explosive fuse fizzled out and you were trying to work through your problems with sex. to let the bed frame nudge against the wall.

to feel one another in a way both of you hoped for. the layers to your relationship were dense and confusing. they were barely defined and melted together at the edges. rivals, friends, lovers, sex partners, racers. close like blood yet were out for it.

neither of you cared. there was little room to care. lewis' soft lips on your neck. your arms wrapped around him as he held onto you middle to move you up and down his cock. the moans were loud, but not loud enough to file a noise complaint. they died down when the two of you kissed deeply.

fuck ferrari. still. you felt more angry at the team than lewis. the sport was a do or die, and to be on a legacy team like that was an honor for anyone. even a legend like lewis. your nails scraped across his shoulders as the two of you moved against one another.

"shit. ah." you moaned as you arched your back a little when the pleasure started to grow in your core. you could feel the heavy pulse of pleasure in your body as the two of you continued to fuck.

"we're terrible rivals. fuck being rivals." he said as he held you closer. like you were going to slip away once more. you moaned in response and clutched onto him. a silent promise that you were going anywhere.

"we are. fuck, i still have to cover up that tattoo." you moaned.

he looked at you and shook his head a little, "no need. no need. keep it. it's a good number on you. lucky forty-four." it fed his ego, plus he wanted to see the tattoo next time you two got intimate. he knew there was going to be a next time. he said, "i didn't know you did tattoos." you had nothing else on your body.

you replied, "it was a three am decision after drinking. it was when we became friends. i was going to get my number... but then i accidentally said yours. and my stupid friends didn't say anything." you clung to him tighter.

"good choice." he said, "but if you wanted my number so badly." he whispered in your ear, "i could've given you something else with it. i know a pretty girl like you likes pretty necklaces." and you shuddered.

you two both had a vast collection of jewellery. you had worn his bracelets and he still had a pair of your earrings. fuck, you two made horrible rivals.

the two of you continued your steady pace. it wasn't rough nor was it soft. but it was steady and the consistency made the pleasure grow in your gut. it felt hot. erotic in a way that left the hammering in your chest feel present.

the kisses continued, the lust wrapped through you. the feverish heat left both of you panting for more. you needed him. he needed you. you pushed each other to new limits. even a legacy racer like lewis was pushed because of your ability to stand toe to toe with him.

you didn't just make racing fun again. you made life fun away. so any way he'd have you, he'd take. and you were the same. challenged and needed. that was what you were to each other. and it all came together in between the sheets.

you panted heavily as you looked up at him. your expression was full of bliss as you felt the shudder of pleasure in your core. you said between gulps of air, "i'm close."

you two continued. the thrusts were heavy and full of want. the pleasure between you two was heavily felt and it didn't take much longer before you held onto him tightly and came around his cock. your toes curled and your legs kicked out a little at either side of his waist.

he continued to move. his pace quickened as he felt himself close to climax. he gazed down at you. you looked beautiful under him. perfect like a sunrise that he wanted to soak in every morning. he hoped that you'd be in his life for a long while.

now you found mutual understanding. found a connection stronger than rivals. something deeper, that touched the soul. he pulled out and stroked his cock a few times until he came all over your stomach.

he tensed up for a moment as he decorated your stomach with his cum. he could feel his heartbeat in his throat as he slowed his fist around his cock to a stop. he panted heavily and swore under his breath. you both stayed there for a moment before you slowly leaned over to grab tissues to clean up.

he helped you clean and then watched you walk to the waste bin near your desk to dispose all the tissues. you walked back to the bed with shaky legs and ended up back in bed with him.

"there she is." he said as he pulled you next to him. like lovers.

you both laid curled up in one another, lewis' arms were around you and his fingers brushed against the tattoo. he hadn't forgotten about that. it was quiet in the bedroom. clothes everywhere and the lights low. the lingering feeling of sex and the fallout after climax.

"we need to talk." he said as he traced imaginary patterns across your back. he looked down at you while you looked up towards him, "this.. this can't keep going on like this. we'll kill each other before anything else. he swallowed, "i'm hoping that we can go back to how it was."

you cupped his face and rubbed your thumb across his cheek. you stared at him for a moment. you wanted it to go back to the way it was. you hoped there was mutual ground to be found.

as much as you wanted the seat in ferrari, as much as it angered you. you yearned for his company, and not just in the bedroom. he was a better ally than an rival. you leaned up to kiss him on the lips as you said, "we can try... but you have a lot to make up for." <3

[svtiddiess]

Green Eyes And Confessions

Synopsis: Wonwoo thinks you're fucking his best friend. But his best friend is fucking with him while you're fucking oblivious to what your crush thinks.

Pairing: Wonwoo x afab!reader x Mingyu

Genre: smut, one shot, roommates to lovers, non-idol! au, college! au

Rating: mature

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: mean dom!Wonwoo, sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), breast play, overstimulation, squirting, voyeurism, exhibitionism, male masturbation, reader is said to be smaller than Mingyu, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thank you so much to my twin @tomodachiii for beta reading and helping me come up with the synopsis! (I'm still offended you put me up for sale)

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Humming in satisfaction, your hands smooth over your skirt and you do a final outfit check before heading out to the kitchen to grab coffee for class.

"Hey, beautiful," a voice you've come to love stops you in your tracks. Smiling, you turn towards the source of the voice.

"Hey, Gyu!" you chirp, smile widening as he approaches you.

"Heading to class?" he wraps his arms around you into a playful hug, making you giggle; you're always in awe at how much bigger and taller he is compared to you. Wrapping your arms around him and not so subtly snuggling your face into his chest, you hum in confirmation.

"Came to grab coffee before heading out."

"Luckily for you, I already made you one," he tilts his head towards the kitchen counter where a cup of freshly brewed coffee awaits you.

Making Mingyu your roommate was one of the best decisions you've made in life. Not only is he tall, buff, and handsome, but he also knows how to cook and clean; he's the perfect man, really. Letting out a weird mixture of a groan and moan of satisfaction, you squeeze him before grabbing the cup.

"What will I ever do without you?" you muse before taking a sip and letting out a sigh.

"Probably make your own coffee," he chuckles.

"That sounds like torture."

Chuckling, he tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ear before patting your cheek. Mingyu has always been affectionate towards you, usually opting to show you his love through physical touch. You don't mind it, as he knows his boundaries and knows when to stop, but lately, he's been a bit too affectionate.

It seems as if he's always going the extra mile for you: memorising your schedule so that he can pack lunch and coffee for you, commenting and complimenting on any changes you make to yourself, being more physically affectionate, and throwing in flirty remarks which never fails to make you blush. Unsure of why the sudden change in attitude, you've brushed it off as him simply being friendly.

"Look who's finally up," Mingyu's voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn towards your other roommate, Wonwoo, who walks into the kitchen.

"Are you sure he's up?" You giggle at his state. Wonwoo's hair is dishevelled, his hoodie is crumpled, and his round-rimmed glasses are drooping from his nose. If you squint, you can tell there are very prominent eye bags under his eyes and a permanent pout plastered on his face.

"Did you even sleep?" Mingyu quips, to which Wonwoo responds with a grumble.

Wonwoo is the complete opposite of Mingyu—reserved, quiet, and someone who expresses love in subtle ways. He won't openly hug or shower you with affectionate names like Mingyu does, but you can tell he cares deeply; you just have to read between the lines. He follows you to parties to make sure you're safe, even though he hates them, always takes notes for you if you're in the same class, reminds you to drink water when you forget, and offers silent comfort whenever you need it.

Feeling bad, you give Wonwoo the rest of your coffee, to which he smiles gratefully before taking the cup. You find yourself smiling as you watch him finish the rest of your coffee; even in his dishevelled state, he looks handsome. With both his personality and appearance, he reminds you of a black cat.

"You should go, beautiful; it's getting late," Mingyu's voice pulls you from your thoughts. Nodding, you gather your things and prepare to head to class. Mingyu hugs you and kisses the top of your head, and for a moment, you could swear Wonwoo's hard stare and tense posture from over Mingyu's shoulder—but you brush it off, convincing yourself it was just your imagination.

With a final goodbye, you set off to class, already missing their presence.

You decide to grab a quick bite before your next class and head to the campus café. The food isn't exactly drool-worthy, but it gets the job done. Plus, seeing Wonwoo working there always gives you the boost you need to get through the day.

Your mood instantly lifts the moment you step into the café. Seeing Wonwoo in his work uniform never fails to make your heart flutter. It’s just a simple black button-up shirt and a brown apron, but the way the fitted shirt highlights his muscles makes you blush. Add his glasses framing his face and tousled black hair, and he’s the very definition of a 'campus crush.'

With a light blush dusting your cheeks, you approach the counter where Wonwoo awaits.

"Hey, Wonwoo," you greet him with a smile.

"Hey, you," he says, his eyes lighting up and his shoulders lifting at the sight of you. "Here for a snack? Want your usual?"

You giggle and nod, thankful he remembers your usual order. It was bound to happen, though—you make a point to visit the café whenever he's working.

He nods and, despite your many protests, gives you the order on the house. You're certain it's coming out of his salary, but with a defeated sigh, you take a seat at your usual table—the one with the perfect view of Wonwoo at work.

A few minutes later, Wonwoo brings over your order. The café is self-serve, but he always makes an exception for you. You're puzzled when you spot an extra chocolate chip cookie on the tray.

"A cookie?" you ask, looking up at him, confused.

"You’ve got three classes after this; you’ll need the extra sugar," he says with a shrug and a smile. "Plus, it's freshly baked."

You take a bite and instantly melt. The cookie is perfect—gooey, warm, and just the right amount of sweetness.

"I didn’t know the café made cookies," you say, tilting your head.

You notice him get flustered for a moment as a blush creeps up his cheeks. He quickly looks away, clearing his throat.

"It’s, uh, for a special event…" he mumbles, trailing off before clearing his throat again. "I can pack you more to take with you if you'd like."

You nod enthusiastically, making him chuckle. He heads back to the counter and returns with a bag full of chocolate chip cookies.

"Wonwoo, this is too much," you gasp.

"Hush, I know how much of a sweet tooth you have. These will probably be gone within the hour," he smirks, and you blush because he’s absolutely right.

You pout as you thank him, and he chuckles before leaning down to gently wipe the crumbs from the corners of your mouth.

"You're such a messy eater—cute," he mumbles. By now, you’re blushing so hard you probably resemble a tomato.

Before you can respond, someone calls his name. He sighs, giving you a sad smile.

"Well, duty calls," he says with a sigh. "See you at home, Y/N."

You wave goodbye, watching him get back to work, your heart still racing.

Heavy footsteps echo throughout the shared apartment as you trudge back from an excruciating day of classes. Tired was an understatement to the fatigue you're feeling right now.

"Hey," Mingyu greets from where he's sat on the couch.

Trudging over to Mingyu, you plop down next to him with a sigh. He scoots over, and his arms instantly welcome you, pulling you close and enveloping you in comfort.

"Long day, beautiful?" He hums, gently massaging your scalp, causing you to sigh and melt in his embrace.

"Too long," you murmur, wanting nothing more than to forget the day's events.

He shifts you both to lie on the couch, tugging on top of him. This was new territory, but you're too tired to resist; you let him do as he pleases. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feeling of his hand rubbing your back slowly lull you to sleep.

"Go to sleep, beautiful; I'll be right here," he hums when you fight to stay awake. You relax into his embrace and drift off to sleep slowly at his words.

"What are you two doing?" A displeased voice cuts through the silence, startling you awake.

"She's tired, so I'm cuddling her," Mingyu states as you turn your head to look at Wonwoo, who's looking at the both of you with a glare that almost pierces your soul.

He holds his stare, the same hardened glare he had when you hugged Mingyu this morning. You shift uncomfortably under Wonwoo's gaze, unsure of why he's so irritated. The silence was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the room rise. You want him or Mingyu to say something cause you surely can't in the face of his scowl.

"Don't stay up too late," Wonwoo grumbles and returns to his room.

You release a breath you didn't realise you were holding and shift to face Mingyu. You're a little confused and startled as to why there's the barest of a satisfied smirk on his face, but he quickly hides it, looking down at you with a gentle smile.

"Let's cuddle in my room instead," he says and picks you up effortlessly. Letting out a small squeal, you wrap your legs around him and cling on for dear life.

He laughs as he plops you down on his bed. Huffing, you look up at him with a pout to which he coos.

"Wonwoo looked upset," you mumble, picking at a stray thread on his bed.

"He's probably just grumpy. You know how he is," he replies, heading towards his closet. Blinking, you're sure that if anyone was the most perceptive between the three of you, it was him. Mingyu would have already noticed and cared, but right now, it seems like he's purposefully pushing Wonwoo's buttons, which you deemed to be odd.

"But he seemed actually upset just now. It feels like he has been upset with us for the past few weeks…"

"What makes you say that?"

"I dunno…it's just he always seems annoyed whenever he sees us hanging out…"

"He's probably stressed cause of uni…" he pauses before finishing with a mumble, "or he's maybe jealous."

"Jealous?" Before you can say anything else, Mingyu tosses one of his t-shirts over your head. "Hey!" you protest. Snatching the t-shirt off, you huff as he laughs at your irritation.

"Go change. I'm sure you don't want to be in those stuffy clothes for any longer."

You grumble and head to the bathroom to get changed. Since Mingyu's shirt was far too big for you, you decided to wear it as a dress, slipping out of your now dirty shirt and skirt. After a silent debate, you decided to remove your bra as well, since wearing a bra to sleep would be very uncomfortable.

Walking back into the room, you find Mingyu already comfortable in bed and shirtless. He's told you multiple times that he prefers sleeping topless, but seeing him in this state makes you blush. Shaking away any thoughts and affirming yourself that you're only friends, you slip into bed with him. His arms immediately wrap around you and pull you close. Softly giggling, you snuggle into his chest.

"Gyu?" you hum.

"Yeah?"

"Earlier, you said that Wonwoo might be jealous of us. What did you mean by that?"

You feel his body tense a little but as quick as it came, it went.

"You've had a long day, beautiful; go to sleep," he murmurs, using one hand to massage your scalp gently.

"But-"

"No buts. Sleep."

With a defeated sigh, you reluctantly drift off to sleep in Mingyu's warm embrace.

The whirring of the coffee machine pulls you from your slumber. Groggily, you sit up and rub your eyes, glancing over at Mingyu, who's still fast asleep beside you. A sudden pang of guilt washes over you, and though you're not sure why, it feels as though you've somehow betrayed Wonwoo. Shaking off the thought, you carefully untangle yourself from Mingyu's long limbs, stumble out of the room, and head to the kitchen.

"Can you make me a cup too?" You ask Wonwoo, whose eyebrows furrow when he sees you leave Mingyu's room.

"Why are you coming out of Mingyu's room?" he asks with an edge to his tone. He puts his coffee down to stare at you pointedly.

"We slept together," you yawn, a little too disoriented to realise your wording.

"You…slept together?"

You hum and nod, brain clearly too tired to notice the tense way he holds himself.

Just then, Mingyu stumbles out of his room with a visible pout. You turn to look at him and see that he didn't bother to wear his shirt back.

"I can't believe you left me, Y/N!" he whines. "Do you know how cold I was without you?"

"Unbelievable," Wonwoo's scoff brings your attention back to him.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused at his irritation.

"You really are a slut aren't you?" he seethes.

"I'm sorry?" you sputter, your eyes widening as your brain fully wakes up. You're confused by his sudden change in attitude.

Did he just call you a slut?

"What do you mean slut?" your eyebrows furrow as your tone turns defensive.

"I said what I said," he growls.

"Wonwoo, what the hell is your problem?!" you fume; it's too early in the morning to be dealing with this.

"The hell man? You can't just call her a slut," Mingyu states with irritation.

"Shut the hell up, this doesn't involve you," Wonwoo snaps at Mingyu. Both you and Mingyu are taken aback by Wonwoo's attitude.

Wonwoo has always been so soft-spoken and calm around you, but seeing him act like this sends a shiver down your spine. He struts towards you, but you don't dare move from your place.

"How long have you been sleeping with him?" he growls.

Oh.

That's when it hits you. You're wearing Mingyu's shirt, Mingyu's topless; you both come out of his room; you said you slept together.

"W-Wait Wonwoo, that's not what-"

He grabs your face, and you let out a squeak.

"I asked you a question. Answer me," he growls, bringing your face closer to his.

Letting out a soft whimper, you squeeze your thighs together.

"It was only last night!" You defend.

"First, you pranced around in those little skirts. You're getting all cozy and romantic with my roommate without telling me, then you slept with him behind my back, and now you're lying to me?" he snaps. "You deserve to be punished, kitten."

"W-What?" you stutter, gulping hard. Never in a million years did you think Wonwoo would behave like this. You’ve always seen him as a soft-spoken gentleman, a nerdy gamer, and a cat lover. But seeing him like this makes your heart skip a beat, and not in a bad way.

Some lonely nights in bed were spent thinking of what type of man Wonwoo was in bed. You always thought of him as a soft lover based on his personality and demeanour. But now, seeing how he acts, you realise you couldn't have been more wrong.

His piercing gaze and harsh tone send shivers down your spine. Gulping, you glance past Wonwoo to see Mingyu, who offers you a reassuring smile that helps relax your body. You suck in a breath and look back at Wonwoo, your heart fluttering when you meet his piercing gaze yet again.

You can tell he’s waiting for your reaction. Even in this situation, he’s attentive to you. You respond with a small smile and a nod. In return, he gives you a gentle smile, lifts you up, and sets you on the kitchen counter.

"Is this okay with you?" he murmurs softly, his tough demeanour faltering momentarily. Your heart flutters at the gesture, and blushing deeply, you nod.

"Words, kitten."

"Y-Yes, it's okay," you mumble.

He gives you a soft smile before turning towards Mingyu, who's watching the both of you with a heated gaze.

"You. Sit and watch," Wonwoo orders.

Mingyu grabs a chair and Wonwoo's unfinished coffee, placing the chair opposite you both, giving himself the perfect view of what's about to unfold. Smirking, he sits down and sips the coffee, anticipating what's to come, like he was watching his favourite episode unfold after a whole season of build-up.

Turning his attention back to you, Wonwoo looks you up and down, causing you to squirm. He scrutinises the shirt you're wearing.

"I really want to take this off, but I don't want him to see what's mine, so I'll let it go—just this once."

Your heart jumps at the thought of him calling you 'his'. You're not sure if he truly meant it, but decided not to mull over it at the moment.

He traces his hands up your thighs and onto your torso, stopping at your breasts and squeezing them, causing you to moan.

"No bra? You're really going to get it," he growls.

You whimper at the feeling of him massaging your breasts through the shirt, making him smirk. You gasp when you suddenly feel his hand touch your bare skin. You arch your back and whine when you feel him tug on your nipples.

"That's right. Be as loud as you can; show him how good I make you feel," he purrs.

You can feel your core throb the more he plays with your breasts. He leans in and leaves wet kisses on your neck, each accompanied by a teasing bite.

"Wonwoo, please," you whine.

"Hm? What is it, kitten?"

"Need more, please," you whimper, blushing hard.

With a smirk, he drops to his knees and spreads your thighs. Blushing heavily, you try to close them, but his strong grip prevents you. He slowly peels your soaked panties off, making you squirm.

"Stop moving," he orders, and you instantly freeze in place.

He tosses your panties towards Mingyu, who pathetically stumbles for it. Before you can make any comment on it, Wonwoo licks a long stripe up your core, moaning at the taste. You gasp and whimper, legs automatically closing, but he keeps them open with his arms.

He dives in without warning, causing you to gasp and grab his hair. He expertly uses two fingers to separate your lips and dives his tongue into your core, lapping up all your juices. You moan his name and pull him in closer, but his glasses knock him back. With a growl, he tosses his glasses onto the counter and dives back in. Goosebumps riddle your skin as the cool air hits your warm body.

You catch a glimpse of Mingyu, who's stroking himself with your panties wrapped around his dick; his eyes are locked onto you as pants and groans escape his lips. You feel a jolt of pleasure course through you when you feel Wonwoo suck on your clit. His hands kneading your thighs, his hair tickling your skin, the sucking of your clit, the lewd scene of Mingyu stroking himself, it all becomes too much for you.

"Wonwoo, I'm cumming!" You squeal as you come undone on his tongue.

He continues to lap up all your juices unrelentingly. You whine and push him away, but he doesn't budge. A choked moan escapes your lips when he inserts two fingers into you. Tears prick your eyes as Wonwoo starts to fuck you with his fingers.

"W-Wonwoo! T-Too much!" You stutter out, feeling overwhelmed by the overstimulation.

He continues his brutal pace as his other hand snakes up and pinches your nipple. Your pleas are only met with unrelenting thrusts of his fingers and the sucking of your clit. Tears stream down your face as your brain becomes fuzzy due to the overwhelming pleasure. Your legs shake as you already feel yourself tipping over the edge again.

Before you know it, your vision whites out, and you're squirting all over him, making a mess all over the counter.

Your ears ring as he continues to lick up your juices. After a few more licks, Wonwoo finally lets you go and comes up. You blush hard when you see his face soaked with your juices. He picks up his glasses from the counter and smirks at your blushing face as he puts them on.

You peer over Wonwoo's shoulder to see Mingyu heaving with his head thrown back, cum painting his stomach. Somewhere in the middle of you cumming, he must've cum too.

"You sound so cute when you come undone for me," Wonwoo mumbles, returning your attention to him. He pulls you into a deep kiss, a sharp contrast to how he treated you just moments ago. The gesture makes your heart flutter, and you find yourself falling even deeper for him.

You taste yourself along with the coffee he had earlier on his tongue, a taste you find strangely addictive. Cupping your face, he sucks on your bottom lip. The both of you get lost in the kiss. You only separate when you run out of air, gasping. You look into his eyes, which hold a deep affection for you—more than just friendship. You can sense that he wants to say something, but he's holding himself back.

"He has a crush on you, you know," Mingyu's voice interrupts the silence.

The both of you look at Mingyu, who's looking back with a cheeky grin as he cleans himself up using your panties. You make a mental note to throw that pair away.

"He's always had a crush on you and gets jealous whenever we hang out. He's too much of a coward to confess his feelings, so I thought I'd give him a little push. That's why I've been flirting with you lately."

Shocked, you look back at Wonwoo. Never in a million years would you have thought that Wonwoo would have a crush on you. You have always found him attractive and harboured feelings for him but suppressed them as you didn't want to ruin your friendship. Wonwoo doesn't meet your gaze. Instead, he seems focused on the hem of your shirt.

"Wonwoo?" You prompt him for an explanation.

Sighing, he nods slightly.

"It's…true," he mumbles. "I've had a crush on you since the day we met. You're so sweet and kind, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship, so I tried distancing myself. I guess that's why you ended up spending more time with Mingyu than with me," he sighs.

"Seeing you come out of Mingyu's room today, I…I don't know, I just snapped," he mumbles. "I shouldn't have treated you that way. I'm sorry. And I understand if you hate me and want me out of your life now."

Smiling, you gently cup his face and force him to look at you. Your heart breaks when he looks at you with eyes filled with regret and fear.

"Wonwoo, I could never hate you; you're too cute for that," you whisper.

"Wha-"

"I have feelings for you too, Wonwoo," you giggle. His eyes widen before softening at your confession.

"Let me take you out on a proper date," he says before leaning in. The softness of his voice spreads warmth across your chest, but just as you're about to respond, his lips brush against your ear.

"And then I'll make sure to properly fuck you,"

You sputter, hitting his arm and then hiding your face in your hands.

"Deal," you mumble.

He chuckles and removes your hands from your face before leaning in for a tender kiss, sealing the deal.

"You're welcome, by the way," grins Mingyu.

"Shut up, Mingyu."

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 18 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Short notice before the start of a deployment was bad enough, but Bradley was left worrying about so much more. And if he didn't figure it out quickly, he thought he might lose you. How would you and he make it through the worst kind of time apart?

Warnings: Fluff, oral sex, smut, angst, adult banter, desperate Bradley, 18+

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Your boyfriend was acting strange, and now you had the distinct feeling he was lying to you. You sat on your bed after work on Friday with tears in your eyes as you tried to process the fact that you barely heard from him after you sent the topless picture the day before. Usually that kind of thing got him going in a good way, and he kept telling you he was fine, but it didn't seem that way. You just couldn't figure out what happened. 

A few minutes ago, you texted him about the plan for the weekend. You really wanted to talk to him about your upcoming winter break, too. You were supposed to be heading to his house right now, but you were having second thoughts as you read the latest message from him again.

I know we were supposed to go to Salvatore's tonight, but I think we need to talk instead. 

This sounded so bad to you. It didn't sound like he simply had a long day and just wanted to relax on the couch with you. This was something that built up over the past two days, and now you felt tears in your eyes as you scooped up your overnight bag and headed out.

"Just get it over with," you told yourself as you drove. You tried to focus on your playlist, but your mind was wandering to the plethora of reasons why I think we need to talk spelled disaster.

After you fought your way through rush hour traffic and pulled up to park in front of Bradley's house which you were supposed to move into next month, you noticed he was sitting on the porch step, waiting for you. And he didn't look very happy.

"Hi," he greeted with a poor attempt at a smile as he slowly stood and made his way over to you. He looked tall, broad and handsome in his uniform, but he didn't call you Gorgeous. 

"What's wrong?" you asked, not even bothering to get your bag out of your car before you met him halfway up his walkway. 

He pulled you in for a hug, and you could feel his lips on your ear as he lied to you again. "Nothing's wrong."

"Bradley," you said, trying to pull out of his grasp. He let you go, but now he wasn't even pretending to smile. You swallowed and whispered, "You've been acting strange since yesterday. I thought maybe work was getting to you, or that you just needed a day of quiet to yourself. But clearly this has to do with me, so just tell me what's wrong."

"It's not you," he replied instantly, taking a step closer with a pained look on his face. "God, it's absolutely not you."

When you looked at him more closely, it was obvious he was exhausted. Like maybe he hadn't even slept last night. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were sagging forward just enough that he looked almost defeated. 

"Bradley."

He looked down at the sidewalk before meeting your eyes again. "I found out yesterday... I'm being deployed."

The wave of emotion didn't hit you as hard as it could have, because you'd given this a lot of thought, but you were still rendered speechless. You'd mentally planned for this. Deployments were a way of life for him. But the tears were back as you asked, "When?"

"Day after Christmas," he murmured miserably. "But that's not all."

Your voice wouldn't work as you looked up at him, vision blurring his handsome features into something that was almost frightening. "What?"

He paused while you swiped at your eyes, and just when you thought you were going to have to force it out of him, he said, "It's with the Atlantic Fleet. Out of Norfolk, Virginia. They... they said they want me permanently."

"No," you sobbed, realizing that your tears were starting to roll down your cheeks. Now it made perfect sense. You knew why he'd been acting so odd. "You want to break up before you leave."

"What?" Bradley replied, his voice sharp as he reached for you again. "No. No, Gorgeous. I don't."

You felt ridiculous, crying in his arms in his front yard, but all you could say was, "Then why didn't you just tell me yesterday that you're going back to Virginia?"

"Fuck," he grunted, tucking you tighter against him. "Does this mean you don't want to dump me?"

You inhaled the smell of his deodorant and jet fuel as you cried. "Why on earth would you think I'd want to dump you? I'm in love with you."

He started to back toward the front door, his hold on you never relenting as he murmured, "Now that I know you're not going to leave, let's go inside where we can talk and snuggle on the couch."

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

Bradley had been waiting on his porch step for almost an hour for you to arrive, thinking there was a real chance that you'd drive off again. He was tired and hungry, and he'd spent the last day and a half trying to figure out what was going on with his job. But more than anything, he was afraid you hadn't changed your stance on falling for a guy who lived on the opposite side of the country.

Shit. He made you cry. You were still crying as he led you over to the couch where you ended up sitting on his lap. He was trying to wipe your tears away as you just shook your head. "I'm sorry, Baby," he whispered. "I didn't mean to upset you like this."

You sucked in a few breaths before you managed to say, "Let me make sure I have this straight. You're leaving for Virginia. And you don't know when you're coming back, if at all?"

"Yeah," he whispered. There was no point in beating around the bush about it. "The deployment out of Norfolk is a done deal. Leaving on the twenty-sixth is a done deal. I'm trying my hardest to fight the rest of it."

"You can do that?" you asked, letting your forehead rest against his. 

Bradley kissed you softly. He couldn't stop himself with you this close. "I'm trying. I don't want to leave San Diego. Virginia used to feel like home, but it hasn't for a long time. Especially not since I met you. So a permanent change of station is something I will fight until they force it on me."

You kissed him this time, and he knew nowhere would feel like home without you. But he couldn't retire yet, and he didn't want to have to ask you to uproot your life for him. He just made himself dizzy, chasing his thoughts around in circles. 

"Is there anything I can do?" you asked.

He wanted to beg you to stay with him no matter what, but he couldn't do that either. "Remember when I was deployed last time and you told me you were afraid I was stationed somewhere far away from you? And how you would have to brace yourself to say goodbye instead of pursuing something?" You nodded against him, arms around his neck as he whispered, "I thought about that all night last night. About how this could be the end for us."

"Stop it," you said before pressing your lips to his. "I don't feel that way anymore at all. It wasn't even a deal breaker when I said it months ago, and I hadn't even met you in person yet. I'm not going anywhere, Bradley. We'll figure it out."

He eased himself down along the couch, keeping you firmly on top of him as he sighed in relief. Suddenly fighting for his job with the Pacific Fleet didn't seem as daunting. He had to figure it out though, because he wanted to stay here and get married. "Say my name again?" he asked, knowing exactly how much you could calm him down when he let you in.

"Bradley," you whispered, settling against his chest as he closed his eyes.

"I love you, Gorgeous."

He didn't realize exactly how tired and stressed he was until he woke up close to midnight, alone on the couch with a blanket draped over him, still wearing his uniform and boots. As soon as he opened his eyes, his head was pounding from the events of the week, but he could smell something cooking.

Bradley rolled off the couch while his stomach growled, and he made his way into the kitchen where you were wearing his sweatshirt and making a grilled cheese sandwich while you looked at your phone. "Hey," he murmured, wrapping his arms around you from behind. You quickly swiped out of the photo album and tossed your phone aside.

"I was going to wake you up soon. You have almost no food here, but you need to eat," you told him, turning to face him. He had no food, because he originally planned to take you out tonight, and now there was no point in going grocery shopping since he was leaving. Your expression was unreadable, and he didn't like that.

"What I need is to spend as much time with you as I can between now and Norfolk." Your lips curved up into a small smile. "I should have told you what was going on as soon as I found out."

You nodded. "I know we haven't been together long, but I'm taking this pretty fucking seriously, Bradley."

"Me, too," he promised. "And it's really hot when you swear." When you laughed, he felt so much better. "Listen, you're absolutely stuck with me now, okay? I'll figure this shit out, but you're stuck with me, and we're going to get married someday."

"Sounds good," you replied easily, still smiling. "But right now you need to eat."

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

You felt better with Bradley's arm around you than you had all day. You couldn't believe he'd been hanging onto your words from his last deployment. You were surprised he could still possibly think that distance would mean anything to you. Both of you agreed not to get ahead of yourselves. Uprooting your life and your career would leave you devastated, but you'd start over again for him.

"Were you just looking at the dirty picture you sent me?" Bradley asked as he bit into half of the sandwich while another one cooked.

"Yes," you whispered before nibbling on your own sandwich half.

"Shit," he mumbled, dropping his food back onto the plate where he stood in the kitchen. "I never even told you how much I loved it."

"No. You didn't."

He wiped his hands on his uniform shirt. "God, I keep fucking up. I got so sidetracked by the orders from Norfolk that I couldn't even think. I loved that photo."

You turned away to flip the second grilled cheese sandwich in the pan. "I thought you got tired of me sending them." Bradley's hand moved faster than his brain as he flicked the knob on the stove, turning it off. "Hey," you protested, turning to look at him again, but he pulled the spatula out of your hand and tossed it into the sink. "Bradley!"

He mashed his lips against yours, silencing you as his hands grabbed the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until you were pressed tight to the front of his body. Then he let his hands slide along your bare skin from your legs, over your perfect ass, up until they were on your lower back. "I'll do better," he promised. "And right now, I want to show you how not fucking tired of you I am."

A minute later, you were on your back on the edge of his bed, legs thrown over his shoulders while he ate your pussy. Your fingers were tangled up in his hair as he knelt on the floor, and his sweatshirt was bunched up above your tits. "I will never get tired of you," he swore before licking a long stripe up to your clit. If you thought for a second that he would want to throw in the towel over long distance, he needed to make sure you understood he never would.

"Bradley," you moaned as he sucked on your clit. His insignia pins were digging into the back of your thigh, as was his name tag. He would figure this out. He would figure everything out. Leaving in a handful of days was not ideal, but as long as you still wanted him, he was all in.

"Oh my god," you whined, back arching as Bradley realized he was being a bit rougher with you than usual. But he couldn't stop. His fingers were digging into your hips, holding you in place as you tried to rock against him. 

His mouth was demanding as he sucked on and plucked at your clit, but you just kept getting louder for him. Your legs were shaking, heels digging into his shoulder blades, but he didn't stop until you came. With his tongue still swirling your clit as you yanked on his hair, Bradley quickly unzipped his khaki pants and pulled himself free. He positioned himself at your entrance as you tugged until his mouth was on yours.

"You liked it rough," he grunted between kisses slick with your arousal.

"I did," you answered, rolling your hips to take the tip of him. As your fingers trailed down to his pins, you asked, "Are you going to fuck me, Lieutenant Bradshaw?" He watched you gasp, mouth agape as he filled you with one deep thrust, and then your head tipped back as you moaned, "I'll take that as a yes."

His lips found that sweet spot next to your ear that he loved to kiss. "I just want to ensure that you'll miss me as much as I miss you while we're apart."

Your voice was softer as you said, "You don't have to worry about that."

Bradley kissed along your neck and told you how much he loved you before absolutely pounding you into the mattress. 

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

You and Bradley slept in so late on Saturday morning, you heard him wander out to the living room when Natasha arrived to go for a run to tell her he'd workout on Sunday instead. When he tried to slip back into bed, you rolled over toward him.

"Sorry. It was just Nat. I forgot I told her days ago that we could run." He gathered you against his chest and kissed your forehead.

You grinned and said, "I heard you tell her that the love of your life was more appealing today than working out."

"I sure did," he grunted and ran his big, heavy hand down your back. "You're always more appealing than anything else, Gorgeous. But if I don't run, I'll gain so much weight. You know how much I eat."

A smile found your lips as you thought about the rough sex followed by another round of grilled cheese sandwiches at two in the morning. "Can we skip Salvatore's again tonight? I'd rather stay here and feed you. We can go to Salvatore's when your deployment ends and you return to San Diego."

Bradley sighed. "And if I get told my new station is in Norfolk?"

You pressed your fingertip to his lips. "We're not humoring that thought yet. Instead, we're going to snuggle and fuck and maybe watch a Christmas movie. Okay?"

"Nothing has ever sounded better."

After that, Sunday was spent with the two of you trying to use up as much of his food as you could. You even managed to bake some cookies that he ate a dozen of in one sitting, and then you found a strand of twinkle lights in his hallway closet where you discreetly squished a spider without telling him. You helped him hang the lights on his porch railing as he laughed and said, "I don't usually celebrate holidays anymore."

"You do now," you informed him, making a mental note to have your students make some cards for him this week before he left. Bradley would be very busy over the next few days, and you didn't want to stress him out about the holiday. But just when you were about to ask him if there was a chance he'd want to spend Christmas Day with you before he flew to Norfolk, he said, "Maybe we can get Thai food on Christmas, and you can help me finish packing?"

You nodded and tried to keep the tears at bay, afraid to admit to him that the future you were so sure of was scaring you a bit. Being without him for a deployment was manageable, but the last thing you wanted to do was move across the country. At least you'd have your regular pen pal back while he was on the aircraft carrier; having Bradley in your email inbox on a regular basis again was better than nothing.

"That sounds perfect," you told him, knowing you'd do whatever it took to make this work.

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

When Bradley was called in to talk to Cyclone, he was exhausted for a different reason. Although the weekend started out laced with uncertainty between you and him, it bloomed into something sweet. On Sunday evening, you held his hand and walked along the windswept beach until it got too chilly, and then you helped him start packing. You'd had some tears in your eyes that he brushed away as you folded his clothes into tiny rectangles and stuck by his side.

Now the only uncertainty he felt came from the U.S. fucking Navy. With a deep breath and squared shoulders, he opened Cyclone's office door after he knocked. It wasn't surprising that Mav and Warlock were there, too, but he couldn't tell if that was a good sign or a bad one regarding a change of station. He raised his hand into the proper salute.

"Admirals. Captain."

The three men returned the courtesy before Cyclone sank into his office chair. "Have a seat, Lieutenant." His voice sounded gruff and perhaps even more annoyed than usual as Bradley slowly sat down opposite him. "Captain Mitchell," he barked at Maverick who procured a folder from behind his back and handed it to Bradley. Then he turned toward Bradley again and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lieutenant Bradshaw, you'll report to the USS Gerald R. Ford in a matter of days to rendezvous with the air strike team."

Bradley nodded and skimmed the paperwork inside the folder regarding the sensitive nature of the mission, but he didn't much care about what they wanted him to do when he got there. "Sir, can you tell me where I'll be stationed once this mission is completed?"

Cyclone leaned back in his seat, brow puckered, arms crossed over his chest. "Naval Station Norfolk has, as you know, requested you specifically to round out their Super Hornet team permanently."

"Yes, Sir," Bradley replied, practically choking on the words. He would have never thought the promise of Virginia would feel like a threat to his happiness, but here he was. "I would really prefer to stay in San Diego," he added, trying to keep the pleading tone out of his voice.

Cyclone leaned forward in his seat with a weary sigh. "Admiral Simpson, Captain Mitchell and myself all agree that the Pacific Fleet is very well balanced at the moment. Losing a reliable pilot to the Atlantic at this point would not be ideal." The tension in Bradley's body eased up momentarily before Cyclone said, "But I can only do so much to keep the status quo when there is a clear need across the board."

Bradley wanted to ask why nobody else was even in consideration when Warlock cleared his throat and said, "There's a price to pay when you're the best of the best."

There was a beat of silent agreement amongst the four of them before Cyclone heaved a deep breath. "I'll do what I can," he said simply. "In the meantime, prepare for your flight to Norfolk. The information is in the folder. And prepare to be out of communication with any and all civilians for the duration."

Bradley's heart stopped. He opened the folder again, but his eyes couldn't seem to focus on the words in front of him as the pages all blurred together. His fingers scrambled as he swallowed hard, and finally he looked up at the older man seated behind the desk. "No communication at all. For the duration?"

Cyclone nodded once. "You are dismissed, Lieutenant."

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

It was just something silly, but when you saw it while you were out shopping, you bought Bradley another Christmas present. You wrapped it up in red and gold paper along with the Mira Mesa Elementary School sweatshirt you got in his size. Then you threw the gifts along with the collection of cards from your students in your overnight bag and tried to keep yourself calm as you drove down to Coronado.

You would have a few days with your boyfriend at the beginning of your winter break before you took him to the airport and sent him off to Norfolk. There would be plenty of things to keep you busy while he was away, including packing up your apartment before your lease ended. But now you'd be moving into his house without him there.

All of the twinkle lights and decorated trees gave you a bittersweet feeling in the pit of your stomach as you drove down his street, but at least this time when you parked, he jumped up from his porch step and met you at your car.

"Gorgeous," he breathed, wrapping his arms around you. His old sweatshirt was currently keeping you warm, and you really wanted him to have his new one for his deployment. You kissed him hard, noting the look of apprehension on his face, but chalking it up to the stress of the unknown.

You kissed him again and kept your arms around his neck as he picked up your bag. "I was going to say we should wait until Christmas morning, but I want you to open your presents now."

His voice was deep and raspy and right next to your ear as he led you inside. "You did not have to get me anything." He kissed your cheek and added, "I need to tell you something important."

"After you open these," you agreed, reaching into the bag and pulling out both gifts before he set it down.

Bradley studied your face before running his thumb along your cheek. "Sure. After I open these."

He took the wrapped packages as you tugged him toward the couch with your hands on his bicep, and you ended up halfway on his lap as he carefully tore at the paper like he didn't want to harm it too much.

"Just rip it," you said with a soft laugh, but he shook his head and looked up at you.

"It's too pretty," he replied. "And nobody gets me gifts, ever. Unless you count coupons for steak dinners from Natasha."

You laughed a little louder as you imagined the laundry list of weird gifts his best friend must have given him over the years. When he finally had his hands on the sweatshirt, he sat frozen with a smile on his face. "I love this. I kind of feel like an honorary faculty member at your school."

"You're a legend in my classroom, Bradley," you promised, snuggling a little closer as he set the shirt aside and carefully unwrapped the second item. This one would mean more to you while he was away, and you hoped he understood just how much you were going to miss his voice and his touch. But you'd still have something from your pen pal.

"Oh," Bradley said softly as he held the navy blue stationery set on his lap. It included note cards, luxuriously thick paper and a gold pen. You could already picture his handwriting on the pages.

"We can go back to being pen pals for a bit," you whispered. "I'll be refreshing my email inbox and waiting not so patiently for my mail to arrive. It'll be great. That's how I fell in love with you in the first place."

"Gorgeous," he groaned, setting the stationery down on his coffee table before burying his face in his hands. "That's not gonna happen."

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

Atlantic Fleet, here we come. But for how long? No pen pals. No email. No letters. This deployment already hurts. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 19

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[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊ ⎯  plus ultra-rare following an interview flop, dynamight & yourself are out and about at the local mall when you're stopped by a young girl and her mother.

content // a little follow up to this. pro hero fame, paparazzi's talk about infidelity rumors (they're not true just mentioned cause you know how it goes), reader is a support tech, bakugo & reader are married, bakugo being sweet to kids, thoughts of having kids vaguely, more paparazzi nonsense, fluff.

wc // 1.7k

『 k.bakugo masterlist | caramel & champagne series 』

It was the first day the two of you have had off since the interview "incident" weeks ago - that's what Bakugo's agent called it, anyways. The press didn't make any negative remarks against the two of you specifically, but they started a horde of nasty rumors anytime Bakugo was on patrol with a pro hero of the opposite sex. Headlines about "Dynamight searching for a New Wife?" started circulating, so much so that the agency started handing out cease and desist letters to the tabloids like candy. It wasn't to hide any sort of truth, it was simply not true to start with. You're successfully able to make it to the mall without catching any attention from the swarms of media assholes at the entrances, waiting to create some fake scenario and generate false pretenses.

"God, these jackasses are everywhere," Bakugo grumbled while you crossed the threshold of the mall and into the food court. "They warned us in school about this shit, but fuck, s'annoyin' as hell."

"I know," you console, thumb rubbing over the back of his hand in your hold. "It won't be like this forever."

He sighs, keeping his head down as the two of you approach the department store you planned to shop at. While you're heading inside, a small child and her mother pass by you, the daughter spinning on her heel and doing a doubletake with sparkles in her eyes.

"Momma! I think that's Dynamight!" she squeals, barely above a whisper, but enough for you to hear her excitement. Her mother kneels down and pats her on the crown of her head.

"I think you're right! But we should leave them be, sweetie. I promise to take you to his next signing."

She pouts and fiddles with her fingers. “But they’re always sold out!”

She’s a little louder this time, now catching Bakugo’s attention. When he makes eye contact with her, the little girl escapes from her mother's side and skips over to him - she's barely taller than his waist, maybe six or seven years old.

"Dynamight!" she whispers, waving frantically with both hands and looking up at him. "I know you’re in secret right now, but I wanted to say hi!”

She turns to you and smiles, dimples adorably accenting her cheeks. “You’re very pretty, Miss Support lady! I saw you on TV!”

Bakugo’s heart swells when you squeeze his hand tighter in response to her kindness before letting go. Something about this little girl’s genuine joy makes him want to melt into a puddle. Usually, kids were annoying in his eyes and parents never knew how to wrangle them around heroes - not this little one, though. She had way more respect than most adults did whenever they’d spot him on his day off, begging for an autograph or photo.

“Heya squirt,” Bakugo greets while kneeling to her level. Her mother has scampered over in the meantime, profusely apologizing for her daughter’s outburst.

“It’s alright! She’s very sweet and he’s more than happy to talk to her,” you assure, standing with the mom to watch their interaction.

“Thanks for sayin’ hi. What’s your name?” He asks as he pulls down his face mask, tucking it under his chin and lifting the brim of his baseball hat.

“Mirai! But my friends call me Miri.”

“Nice’ta meet you, Miri. I’ve got somethin’ for ya if you give me a sec.”

Bakugo shoots a glance in your direction, nodding to your bag. “Peaches, got any cards with you?”

You waltz over to him and dig out a stack of Dynamight branded trading cards in protective sleeves from your purse, handing them over with the a permanent marker. Bakugo takes them and fans the selection out in front of Mirai.

“Pick whatever one y’want and I’ll sign it for ya. How’s that sound?”

Mirai gasps, stars twinkling in her eyes as her fingers wiggle in anticipation over the cards. “I like them all! You pick one for me, please!”

That little shimmer in her eyes reminded you of a smaller Bakugo, specifically a picture that Mitsuki had of him and Midoriya in her living room, the two of them holding up their All Might cards from when they were kids. Her expression was identical to his back then - priceless.

“This one’s a favorite of mine,” you chime in, pointing to the card on the far right. “That’s the Plus Ultra-Rare edition, too. Super cool!”

Bakugo hands you the others and keeps the one card, pulling it out of its protective sleeve and popping off the cap of the permanent marker with his teeth. He signs the card, “Miri, go beyond!” accompanied with his hero signature. He waves the card back and forth to dry the ink before returning it to the sleeve.

“There ya go,” Bakugo says, handing her the signed card. “Keep it safe, yeah?”

Mirai gingerly takes it from him, holding it close to her chest with a toothy grin. “I promise, Dynamight!”

Before he can protest, Mirai rushes into him and latches onto his neck, her small frame clinging to Bakugo in an attempt to give him a hug. Her mom stammers out more apologies, but he stops her with a raise of his hand, mouthing “S’okay” over Mirai’s shoulder.

“Thank you for keeping me and Momma safe,” Mirai mutters sweetly, tiny hands grabbing at the back of Bakugo’s shirt. “You’re the bestest hero in the world!”

He bites his cheek in response, trying his damndest not to let this child make him cry in public. That phrase has been uttered to him thousands of times, and no matter what, it still makes his heart skip a beat. He’s barely holding it together as he pats her back tenderly, closing his eyes to focus on swallowing the emotions flowing through him.

You’re staring at Bakugo with hearts in your pupils, swooning over how patient he’s being with this little girl. A sensation you've never felt before invades your lower abdomen - nerves? No, it was a foreign yearning, a burning desire to....you tuck that feeling away to unpack at another time.

"Okay honey, we should get going now," Mirai's mother insists, tapping her daughter on the shoulder to have her let go of Bakugo. "We've taken up more than enough of their time."

"Don't worry about it," Bakugo comments, standing back to normal height and patting Mirai on the head. "See ya later, Miri."

Mirai does a little dance to herself before grabbing her mother's hand, turning to whisper-yell, "Bye Dynamight!"

The two of them leave you be, walking back out into the main concourse of the mall. You turn to Bakugo and elbow him in the side with a smirk on your face.

"What's got you so smiley?" you tease. "You look like you're ready to cry, too."

"Shut the fuck up," he sniffs, re-adjusting his mask and baseball hat. "She was a cute kid, s'all it is."

"The cutest. Let's grab what we needed and head home."

You two carry on with your shopping trip, surprisingly uninterrupted. Things seems to be quiet...that is, until you're ready to leave and forget about the media mobs at the main entrance. The second you two step outside, you're swarmed with flashing lights and overwhelmed with various shouting men.

"Dynamight! Is it true you're looking for a new wife after the interview last week?"

"Are you two on a break?"

"Do you think having a pro hero as a husband is detrimental to your relationship?"

These fuckers are ruthless, and quiet frankly, stupid as hell - the two of you are literally holding hands as they ask their absurd questions.

Bakugo shakes his head before letting go of your hand and removing his face mask. The glare in his eyes hints that he's about to have an explosive reaction, but color yourself surprised when his voice comes out velvety smooth and genuine.

"Listen up, m'gonna say this once and then you're gonna leave us the hell alone," he speaks, looking each cameraman in the eye before continuing. "This is the only damn woman I want in my life and nothin' will change that. She's the only one I've got eyes for, no one else. Got it?"

A few of the paparazzi pause their insistent squawking and put their cameras down, nodding in agreement to his words.

"Great. You can all fuck off now an' find someone else to harass."

You don't know what comes over you, knowing full well what the consequences will be, but you find yourself reaching for Bakugo's jaw and pull him in for a hearty kiss. He lets out a surprised grunt before tugging you closer by the waist, catching on to what you're planning and letting you take the lead.

"Quick, get the shot!" you hear the crowd yell repetitively. Bakugo responds by flipping off the cameras, continuing your kiss for a couple more seconds before parting.

The next morning, both of your phones are full of notifications from various sources - deja vu, huh? You've got e-mails asking you two to make appearances on TV networks while Bakugo's agent and publicist are scolding him for being unprofessional in public, but in the same breath, praising him for turning the opinion of the public in his favor.

"Holy shit," you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "Kats, look at this."

Bakugo peeks over your shoulder from his side of the bed, laying his head on yours while you scroll through the articles multiple people have sent to you overnight.

"Dynamight & his Wife are stronger than ever!," "Fans Overjoyed to know Dynamight & his Wife are sticking it out," and "Dynamight remains off market."

"What's that one?" he asks, reaching over you to click the article titled, "Precious Moments with Fans - Dynamight Edition." The page loads an article detailing the encounter with Mirai from afar, a few pictures of Bakugo holding out the trading cards and giving her a hug.

"When the fuck did they even take that?!" he laughs, sighing as he flopped back over to his side of the bed.

"I think it's cute. Think I should print it out and frame it for the living room?"

"Don't you fuckin' dare."

You roll over to face him, pinching his cheek.

"Yeah, the picture of you flipping off the camera is more fitting."

tags // @slayfics @maddietries @starieq @liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @queenpiranhadon

[depravitycentral]

Just a few small nsfw thoughts about the yandere haikyuu cast

Tw: stalking, kidnapping, non-consensual photography/involvement in masurbation, foot stuff in Noya's, spitting, overall just real unfortunate habits they have

Thinking about Daichi Sawamura who is the natural option for you to run to when mysterious packages start showing up at your door. It’s all sorts of intimate items – pretty lingerie that somehow fits you perfectly, all in your favorite colors (and his, too, of course). Then it shifts towards just single items, no longer the pretty babydoll sets – silk thongs with an initial stitched in, collars with your name engraved in the metal tag, vibrators that slowly get longer and thicker. It’s only when one comes that’s much too realistic, leaning slightly to the left and with veins lining the top that you finally confide in Daichi. It all comes tumbling out, and it’s only when you show him the handwritten note with the most recent dildo – reading it’s modeled after my own, let me know how it fits - that Daichi softly sighs, throwing you a look and telling you that you know there’s nothing we can do about it. Creeps like that always get away with it, unfortunately. Just ignore the way his uniform pants are straining at seeing you all teary-eyed and dependent on him – cute. Maybe you’d like another gag – he’s noticed you haven’t used the last one yet.

Thinking about Koushi Sugawara who feels bad about installing the bug on your phone, but not bad enough to disconnect it. It’s not visual, is what he tells himself – it’s not creepy if it’s not looking at you, after all. It only picks up on sound when he activates it – which has let him into a whole other side of you. You bring your phone with you everywhere, he’s realized, and he’s always keeping his headphones on at any given time, playing the live feed and letting his cheeks turn red and his pants grow tight at the sound of you. Your voice, your laugh, your humming, your moans and whimpers and hell, even the sound of you peeing is enough to make him feel light-headed, connected to you in a way that gets his heart racing and his cock swelling. Maybe one day he’ll install the visual one, too, but for now the sound is enough – the audio recordings he takes of you is more than enough fodder should he ever need it.

Thinking about Asahi Azumane, whose apartment is basically your second home. You come over and spend the night often – often enough to have your own toothbrush permanently living at his place, set off to the side and out of the mainly used area of the bathroom counter. It’s a common brand, one that Asahi can find at the corner market – which he does, keeping a constant supply around so that he can replace it each time you use it. He keeps them all stacked nicely in a Ziploc bag, dating each in permanent marker so he can recount and remember all the times you’ve slept under the same roof as him, only a room away. And of course, this makes it much easier to slip the it between his lips and against his tongue, teeth grinding down against the bristles and his eyes fluttering closed because it just feels so very intimate. It’s embarrassing and he keeps everything well hidden from you, but the way he stares as he brushes his teeth beside you is a bit of a give-away that there’s something going on.

Thinking about Ryunosuke Tanaka who keeps a running list of the insults you throw at him. They’re never truly mean, always just jokes or digs at some niche thing about him and his Loverboy attitude, but Ryunosuke notices. He’s transcribing them into his Notes app on his phone, and when he gets home each evening he repeats the insult to himself out loud, saying the word over and over in a mimic of your own voice, letting his hands run down the length of his body as he closes his eyes and melts into memories of your expression, your tone, the way you’d been looking at him. He’s got something of a degradation kink, and he’s training himself to become aroused at the mere mention of a derogatory nickname – it's for the future, he’ll tell himself, so that when he’s got you straddling him, tying him up and keeping him pinned underneath you, he can preform exactly how you want him to. He’ll be good for you – just call him a freak again, please.

Thinking about Yuu Nishinoya always making jokes about feet because he knows it makes you squirm in discomfort, but soon it stops being a joke. He’s always tickling your feet, making exaggerating sucking sounds when you slip your shoes off, even snatching your socks and running around with them, the adrenaline of you chasing him and yelling his name and looking at him him him making him giddy. But then he’s managing to keep the sock one day, curiously rubbing a finger over it as he palms himself, running his leaking, bright red tip against the material and cursing. He’ll wind up using it as a sort of cocksleeve, fucking into it and leaving it so riddled with cum that it’s hard, and suddenly the next time he jokes about you letting him give just one suck, c’mon is less teasing and much more serious.

Thinking of Shoyou Hinata who doesn’t understand why you get so angry when he suggests switching underwear. He thinks it’s sweet – a sign of love and comfort with each other, really. He’ll step into the cute, flimsy panties he buys for you, pulling them up and face twisting up slightly as he adjusts himself, trying his best to get the thong to hold as much of his cock and balls as he can. He feels naughty, wearing them under his shorts when he runs to the store to pick up groceries, and with each step he can feel the lacey material – the very material he’d forced you to strip out of that morning, the material still warm. And of course, you were forced into his boxers – the same ones he'd slept in, smelling musky and feeling wet with something you don’t want to name.

Thinking about Tobio Kageyama who has a full body reaction when he hears you say his name. It’s not subtle, either – he’s going stiff as a board, eyes blowing wide and pupils dilating, visible goosebumps erupting all over his skin. His breathing gets a bit heavier, and every muscle in his body is flexed, clenched so tightly that he can hardly move. He’ll stare at you, lips focused entirely on your lips, murmurs leaving his own that sound vaguely like your name, vaguely like fuck. You’ll have to pull him out of the moment yourself, with a touch to his shoulder or waving your hand in front of his face, and it’s only then that he’ll clear his throat, shifting in his pants and realizing much too late that he’s visibly hard, a bit of sweat visibly staining his exercise shirt under the armpits. He’ll make some lame excuse and run away, but as he fists his cock and replays the moment over in his head, he’ll be whining your name and your name only.

Thinking about Kei Tsukishima who feels so, so very stupid but can’t help but bite his lip as he scrolls through Spotify. There’s a separate, private folder of playlists he’s curated, each lasting easily two hours, all with different, single word titles. Doggy, cowgirl, lotus, 69. There’s ten or so, and they get updated at least once a day. It’s music that he can almost too easily imagine touching you to – slowed, passionate, your favorite songs, almost all of them coming from recommendations you yourself gave him. He just can’t help the mental imagery that fills him the moment he hears the chords and the singer’s voice – immediately you’re perched in his lap, tits pressed against his own chest and grinding on him so slowly that he’s near tears, desperation filling him and suddenly his finger’s tapping before he knows it, the little ‘saved to edging’ notification popping up at the bottom of his screen. It’s mortifying, really, but so is the silence only interrupted by the bassy thump thump that would otherwise fill up his bedroom every night.

Thinking about Tadashi Yamaguchi who splurges for his birthday and buys himself a customized life-sized body pillow with you printed on it. He’d been bright red the whole time he’d been ordering, the prized photo of you – scantily clad in your cute, revealing pajamas with your breasts just barely contained by the top – uploaded to the cute little Etsy shop. The package had arrived not soon enough, and he’s both flushed and breathing erratically the moment he rips open the packaging, wide eyes nearly tearing up at the sight of you – well, almost you. He’d paid extra to have the little audio insert sent alongside it, and as he records an audio he’d saved of you teasingly telling him goodnight ‘Dashi, love you, he’s shivering in excitement. It’s a shame that he stains the fabric with cum the first night, but a quick wash leaves it good as new – leaves you good as new.

Thinking about Tooru Oikawa and the pretty dildo he’s got buried away in his closet. It’s smooth, a pale pink color that reminds him of Sakura blossoms – that reminds him of you. He doesn’t use it often; only when he’s been on long, long stints away from home, tournaments and games making his muscles sore, his eyes sag, his heart ache in his chest. But as he sprits your perfume on it and whines your name as he sits down on it, his eyes roll to the back of his head and he remembers how he snatched this from your own closet after having watched you fuck yourself on it through your bedroom window.  

Thinking about Hajime Iwaizumi who absolutely loves the big, pretty mirror you have in your bedroom. It’s the first thing he notices when he walks in for the first time, and it’s also the first thing he looks up when he gets home that night. And when he’s got you spread out on his cock a few months later, the locks on the doors numerous with passcodes he’ll never tell you, he’s sure you’ll be a bit relieved to see something familiar on your new bedroom’s walls. And he’ll tell you as much, gruff voice in your ear as he bounces you in his lap like some kind of toy, telling you to look at the mirror, baby, lookin’ so pretty… And when you cry he’ll wince, but the way his cock throbs inside you is telling.

Thinking about Kotarou Bokuto who calls you when he’s touching himself, narrating to you exactly what he’s doing. Of course, it’s not from his own phone – he likes to think it’s more exciting if it’s an unknown number. Maybe he’s seen too many TikTok thirsts about men in masks and Scream, but he thinks you’ll like the mystery. So when you stop picking up, he’ll just leave voicemails – always groaning and moaning your name, putting the microphone on the phone right up next to his fist, the wet schlock schlock sounds loud and clear. It’s risky and dirty, and when you bring it up the next time he sees you, complaining and confiding in him that some fucking creep is leaving horrible messages for you, he’ll only play along, convinced you’re hiding your true feelings to avoid looking like a pervert. But that’s okay, he likes that you’re a pervert! So pick up next time, yeah?

Thinking about Keiji Akaashi who, when the late hours and pages upon pages of editing the same manga get to him, will switch over to edit the more lewd, more explicit series he’d recently been assigned. Yeah, maybe it’s illegal to be photocopying the pages when there’s particular scenes that appeal to him, and maybe there’s something ever so slightly creepy about printing your photos and cutting out your face, pasting them onto the hentai’s protagonist and doing the same with his own photos, but it’s not a big deal. At least, it’s not a big deal until you find the volumes upon volumes of different almost collaged panels with your photos, all strung together in Keiji’s own personal fantasies of exactly what he wants to do to you, fit with his own handwriting covering the neatly White-outted text bubbles.

Thinking about Tetsurou Kuroo who purposefully gets a desk at work that can be raised to standing height. It’s not often, but when his mind is wandering and he can’t sit still while thoughts of you become unbearable, he’ll bring the desk up slightly. Standing up, he’ll align the wood right below his groin, shuffling forward and gently resting his clothed erection against the surface, sighing and rolling his head back as he lightly thrusts forwards and back. The fantasy of having you bent over the desk is too strong to ignore, and when you – his oh so sexy little assistant – come knocking at his door, he’s thanking anything that’s listening that you can’t see the way wet spreads across the front of his slacks.

Thinking about Kenma Kozume who only plays Sims because he has characters for the two of you. There’s no other avatars, solely and only the two of you. He’s curated your character to have your hair, your eyes, your body proportions, even buying special packages and programming his own mods to make it happen. The house you’re both living in is, he’ll admit, a bit excessive – there’s beds in every room, and the very first thing he’ll do each time he opens the game is immediately press the WooHoo button, zooming in on the monitor to get as close to your pixelated forms as possible. He’ll gulp and palm himself, eyes unblinking and repeating the command until he’s panting and gasping and staring at the sticky mess he’s left behind.

Thinking about Lev Haiba who’s not good at the up-skirt photos he tries to take. He’s not subtle, the camera flash going off and making you stiffen up. It’s easy to brush off with him though, his little laugh and scratching the back of his neck, telling you that he’s just supposed to be taking ‘candid photos of myself, something my new agency’s been wanting! Hey, look at that bird over there, so cute right?’ The flash as you turn around is less noticeable, but the way he audibly groans at the sight of your pretty panties certainly isn’t.

Thinking of Wakatoshi Ushijima who can’t quite understand why you’re uncomfortable when he stands so close to you. He’s always creeping up behind you, unnaturally quiet for someone so large, and suddenly you’ll feel this looming, overwhelming presence behind you, his breath hitting the crown of your head and making your hair tickle your neck and throat. He’s standing nearly flush with you, his cock mere centimeters from your ass, the smell of his cologne invading every one of your senses. He’ll only stare, stonefaced when you yelp and whirl around, only swallowing when you lightly swat his chest, irritation rippling through your tone when you tell him don’t sneak up on me like that! He doesn’t mean to scare you, really, but there’s something about being so close to you that makes his heart race, and he’s heard from all his teammates in the locker rooms about how women ‘love it from behind’, and he can only assume this is what they mean. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’s convinced that with enough time, you’ll grow to enjoy him standing behind you like a shadow, breathing down your neck and audibly inhaling at the juncture of your neck – television tells him as much, so why do you always shy away when he tells you that you smell heavenly?

Thinking of Eita Semi who, despite his best efforts, can’t find it in himself to reject a band admirer when she approaches him after a show. It’s not you and he’s not initially interested in her at all, but as she stays persistent and his numerous texts to you remain unanswered, Eita finds himself noticing that you have similar lips, similar hair, similar hips. It’s not actually cheating if he pretends it’s you, right? It feels sacrilegious to touch another woman, sure, but he’s actively moaning out your name, telling her to shut up when she says something he doesn’t think you would. And it starts a troubling pattern – you won’t sleep with him and he doesn’t want to pressure you, but the sexual frustration of desperately wanting to touch you and being unable to makes him crazy, willing to do anything to get even a phantom taste of you. He’ll apologize profusely if you ever find out, getting to his knees and begging you to forgive him, claiming he did it for you, but it’s a temporary solution for now. Just until you give him a taste of what he’s been dreaming of for months.

Thinking of Satori Tendou who picked up photography as a hobby once his feelings for you formed. He’s still a bit unsure about photographing you without your consent, but then you go and do something that makes his throat dry up, his fingers unable to stay still because you’re just so damn cute and he can’t help himself. He keeps all the photos in a special box, placed neatly and gently in the corner of his closet. They’re all labeled on the back with the date, time, and location, even a few jots of what he was thinking at the time of the photo capture. They’re by and large mostly innocent, but there’s a few that he’d been rash with, snapping the photo and feeling guilt away at him. Writing down the fantasies he’d had with each time he uses the photo to masturbate had been embarrassing at first, but each time he rifles through the photos – which are perfectly pristine, not a drop of cum or even spit anywhere to be seen – he’s poring through his notes, biting his lip and curling his toes as he remembers particularly vivid fantasies, all driven forward by your smiling face or your unaware figure. And while he’ll never offer to show them to you, should you ask he’d reluctantly agree, watching with baited breath to see which ones you like – which fantasies you want to try out.

Thinking of Tsutomu Goshiki who still, even as a young adult, finds himself getting flustered when he watches porn. He’s consuming as many videos as he can find, but he often finds himself clicking off of the video almost as soon as the actual sex starts – he’s interested in the lead up, rather than the act itself. He’s diligently studying the scripts, the scenarios placed forward, the way the women seem to go crazy for a few common, simple lines. He’s noting everything down and practicing the lines, looking at himself in the mirror and adding in your name just to get used to saying it without blushing. He’s convinced that because the women in porn would like these lines, so would you – of course, you would not enjoy being told that he’s the delivery pizza guy and that you’ll need to pay with your body, but Tsutomu doesn’t quite understand that. Surely it’s real – it’s porn, and he’s sure that he’ll be able to fuck you just the way he sees on his screen. He’ll make you scream just like all the women do – he promises.

Thinking of Shinsuke Kita who will let you bathe on your own, but never alone. He’s pulling up a stool beside the bathtub before you can protest, those eyes unblinking as he gets nice and settled in. He’s smiling gently at you, asking you if the water is the right temperature, if you’d like to a use a bathbomb, if you want any help shampooing or scrubbing your body. It’s unnerving if only because the nonchalance is infuriating, but his hands stay perfectly still on his lap, palms flat against the material of his trousers. He’s visibly growing hard as you quickly wash your body, still staring, but he makes no move to act on it. It’s only once he’s watched you settle into bed, promising he’ll be up soon, that he makes his move. The water’s cold by now, but he still sinks into the porcelain with a stifled grown, letting the bath water slip past his lips and cover his face, enjoying every bit of residue of you.

Thinking of Atsumu Miya who’s notorious for PDA with you long before you’ve accepted your fate. He’s always inviting you to his games, getting you special seating so that you’re as close to the court as possible, and after each win he’s pulling you into a searing, bruising, loud kiss. It’s dramatic and it’s entirely too much, but the cameras flash and the headlines spur with details of his supposed relationship with you. It’s all for publicity, he’ll tell you, apologizing but telling you that y’understand, right? It’s for his career, he promises, to make himself look better for the media, but the way he’ll slowly pull away and whimper your name so that only you can hear isn’t quite as publicity-driven as he claims. At least, when he groans and lets his eyes flutter closed afterwards, it sure doesn’t feel that way.

Thinking of Osamu Miya who, of course, has a rather nasty habit of infusing his cooking for you with something salty, bitter, and off-white, but he’s got yet another secret hidden up his sleeve. It takes him a while to work up to coming in your food, desperation driving him mad with the urge to somehow stake a claim on you, but letting his lips pucker and spitting into the frying, sizzling meal he’s whipping up for you? Well, that’s much less sinister, isn’t it? It’s less creepy, he thinks, and it’s easier – he can spit once, twice, five times in a single dish, watching with hawk eyes when you groan and praise his cooking after the first bite. It’s a secret, and the only tell he has is that he’ll bite his lips, Adam’s apple harshly bobbing, his fist clenching and his pants getting tight because oh, you think it tastes good?

[divinesolas]

The hour of the wolf

summary: You make an offer for an old friend. You offer up anything to make sure his life is spared. What the wolf wants shocks you more than anything.

Cregan Stark x Beesbury!Reader

w.c: 3k

c.w: SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD; the hour of the wolf, mutual pining, soft? cregan, SMUT !, oral (male and fem), minor fingering (fem), face sitting, dirty talk, lord kink, hairy cregan, p in v, minor bearded cregan, breeding kink, minorly proofread

a.n: literally just a reimagining of the black aly and cregan scene from the books, i hate that fact that they rlly might cut black aly from the show let me kms.

perm cregan taglist (open!)

The room is far too hot. The glares of the men in the room far too intense. Words unspoken louder than anything. You had been sitting in this room for hours now, the arguing the anger seemingly never ending. You understand him. A stark never does forget his oaths that much has become very clear to you.

The fur covered man turns his back to the group after some harsh words leave his lips. You decide enough is enough and turn to the other men in the room. “Leave us.” Oscar and benjicot give each other nervous looks before turning back to you. “y/n…” You place a hand on Oscar's shoulder and squeeze it, “I have this, trust me.” He hesitates for a few moments before he nods and with the help of benjicot clears out the council room leaving you alone with the wolf of the north.

His back is still turned to you, staring at the window with a glare in his eyes. “My lord-” “I have done all that you all have asked. I have agreed to not storm on the green castles, i have given my men, i have been merciful to those who should have been marked to death i will not relent on this.” He had finally begun to face you, his face angry. You can see the stress of the last days weighting down on his face, a noticeable stubble from not being able to shave, bags under his eyes, he looked exhausted and you felt awful

Corlys Velaryon. once a man who you would have considered a good friend turned turncloak. The new king had pardoned his crimes along with the rest of you except for cregan, so stuck in his justice it will not stop until he has his head. Thought he had pardoned corlys, when you had went to the king to see to cregan being stopped, not wishing to fight one of the only men he trusted he did nothing to fight the northern leaving you all to try to persuade him yourselves.

You understood his anger. Having vowed himself to the queen and the late prince and both now dead due to the greens. “i’m afraid i cannot relent on this as well my lord.” You knew corlys did what he had to. maybe you would have not done the same in his place but it did not matter to you. Cregan huffs, pushing off the table he was leaning on to walk past you. “then there is nothing for us to speak of.”

You do not try to grab him as he walks past as much as you wish to. you only knew the lord stark for a year now but he had become a good friend to you and you like to think you were one to him as well. it took him awhile to open up to you, the northern not interested in speaking to most and was flat out rude to most but you persevered and was rewarded by earning the favor of the stark, leading him to seek out your council.

You felt more for the stark. More that was beyond friendship. you were a minor lady from minor house, the war and the growing tensions and battles with the hightowers leaving you even worse for wares and he was probably the most powerful man in the realm right now as well as a recent widow. He would want nothing to do with you if it were not for you insistence and you’re sure after this is all said and done if he does not agree to be the kings hand permanently this will be the last time you ever hear from the man.

Yet you are desperate. you so badly don’t want him to do this. corlys’ life more valuable than many realize. “what can i offer you?”

You voice cracks as you speak, whipping around to see his retreating form paused at your words but he does not turn around. you take a deep breath as you take the steps towards him. every step you take he steps back. “grant me this one thing and i shall never ask another thing from you ever again. If you do i shall have sonnets and songs written of you, tales of your great strength and wisdom. Grant this one wish and i will do anything you desire.”

His back hits the wall and he pears down at you with a tilted head as you stand firmly in front of him. not closely enough to be touching but close enough you can smell him, woodsmoke musk of his skin. He’s quiet but the look in his eyes shows Hes thinking about your words. You begin to grow a bit nervous when a light smile creeps up on his face. “I shall grant you your wish.”

“and what in return?”

“you.”

You stumble back while cregan remains rooted where he is, watching you with delight. “you misspeak.” “i do not.” you shake your head furiously. he cannot truly mean that as much as your skin crawls and your heart pounds you cannot accept his words. “If you are looking for a wife i am more than happy to help you find one.” “i am not looking for a wife. i want you.”

You pace around the room, tugging at the collar of your black and yellow dress. The room suddenly having grown hot and you dress uncomfortable. “There are many lovely ladies,” “im sure there are,” “The war has left many without a husband as awful as it is to speak. i would be more than happy help set you up with a couple meetings with them.” “is one of them with you? i will attend that one.”

You turn to him and almost wish you could curse at him and his pleased face. “my lord please.” his face drops and he grabs your hand tugging you into him. His hand softly coming to your face, the obvious look of affection in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “a hand for a head. give me your hand and i will do as you say. i will do as you say for the rest of my life.”

You take a couple deep breaths in disbelief, he wanted you. “A hand for a head. i will give you as you ask.” He leans in closer to you, you almost feel as though he is going to kiss you and you close your eyes in anticipation but he pauses right as your lips are about to touch and you hear him chuckle lightly. “You want me as well.” It is not a question but despite that you nod and his lips are pressed against yours. You can feel him hum and smile against your lips. He is an animal, hungerly eating at your lips like he is a starved man, as if he had been waiting for this for far too long.

You try your best to meet him all the same but he completely consumes you and you can do nothing but submit to him. When you pull apart you both stare at one another with lust in your eyes. So when you lightly step back he stares at your curiously until you sink down onto your knees and his breathing stops. “What do you think you’re doing?” You trace your hands along his thighs as you peer up at him. “doing my best to please you my lord.” he groans in delight and licks his lips. “will you allow me to my lord.” “if you do not put me in your mouth right now i will push you down and fuck you on the floor like a whore.” You wish his words did not affect you like they did, you can feel how soaked you are, you might as well be dripping onto your feet.

He allows you to grab at his pants and watches as you pull them down exposing them fully. He is huge. How in the hells were you even going to put this thing in your mouth? You can see the hair that trails up towards his stomach, the veins that line up and down him pulse with need while he lightly drips out some precum. As if driven by pure lust you reach out and lick at the drops that spill out of him, sucking around his tip to see if you can get anymore. You must be doing something right because he groans at your actions, grabbing the back of your head as you continue to push him further into your mouth. “fuck you feel so fucking good.” You whine lightly at his praise as begin to rub yourself onto the heel of your foot. When you moan around him he pushes you greedily further into him. “you feeling good too? such a greedy girl.”

You have no real clue what you’re doing but cregan helps you every step of the way, and when you put him fully in your mouth, your nose is buried in his hair. His hand on the back of your head pulling you closer and further until you get a good rhythm yourself and he lets you do as you please. “so fucking good for me fuck.” You can tell he’s close to cracking, his grip on your head grows tighter and his panting gets heavier, his words of praise turn into slurs of mumbles of nothing. He tries to pull you off not wanting to overwhelm you, “its too much.” But you keep firm and hes flowing into your mouth, you almost choke but pull yourself off of him and swallow down his salty seed.

You almost look up at him to try and see what his reaction was but you instead yelp as you’re pulled up and thrown over his shoulder. “what are you doing?!” he pulls up his pants and readjusts himself before he walks out of the room with you still over his shoulder. people stare as you walk past but nobody dares to question the hand so they all continue about their business. you even see oscar on your way who shoots you a bewildered look but you just throw your hands up in confusion and embarrassment.

You realize he is taking you to his room. He shuts the door with his foot and tosses you onto the bed. He strips himself of his furs and clothes where he’s standing bare in front of you. He truly was a man and you gulped. Greedily admiring his hairy body as he strode towards you with the utmost confidence. “If you do not want this you will tell.” You nod, “With your words.” You shiver, “yes..” hes pleased but gives you a look. “yes,,,?” you purse your lips before answering him, “yes my lord.”

He kisses you and leans on top of you until you’re laying on your back. You feel his fingers trailing up your leg and push past your underwear to push two fingers inside of you. You grip onto his shoulder and gasp as he begins to work his fingers in and out of you. “you’re dripping down my fingers, look at you pretty girl.” you shudder against him as he continues to work at you. He suddenly pulls away and you whine but he kisses your complaints away. “sit on my face.” Your brows furrow together in confusion, “what?” He chuckles, his hair tickling your face and shoulders. “just do as i say.”

Despite your confusion you nod, trusting your future husband who rolls the two of you over and you’re suddenly on top of him. He pulls every string and pushes away every piece of fabric under you sit just as bare as he is. You almost fold your arms to cover yourself but his hands grab yours as he continues to admire you with heart eyes. “you are the most beautiful lady i have ever seen.” Your face burns as you turn your head away from him. “sweet talker.” “I mean every word.”

He lays all the way back and it suddenly becomes abundantly clear what it means and you are alarmed. “You will suffocate.” He laughs and shakes his head as he continues to try and pull you up to his face. “a real man would not, trust me.” “this cannot be right.” “it will be good i promise. trust me. i want to.” Despite your doubts and worries you allow yourself to hover over his face lightly, his beard scratches at your face. you hear him sigh as he kisses your thigh, “I said sit.” He suddenly pulls you down and you’re fully sitting down on his face and he begins to lap at you.

You were not the most innocent women, having touched yourself a fair share of times but this was a completely different experience. His tongue laps at you eagerly, drinking up every drop while his hands knead your sides. You grip onto his hair as you as, your eyes closed and you throw your head back in pleasure. You keel over when his hands move you to grind on top of his face, his nose rubbing against your bud and your hips eagerly begin to move to try to get more and more friction. with every call of his name he hums and groans into you sending shockwaves down your spine.

You can do nothing to stop yourself from releasing all over his face. you mumble apologies but he simply eagerly licks up every drop before suddenly flipping you over and hovering over you. his face gleams with the shine of your essence. “ive been wanting to do that for too fucking long.” you turn away as your face heats, he turns your head back towards him and pecks you on the lips. “I hope you know i am being truthful, my words do not stem from purely desire. i love you.” Your breathe escapes you and your hands come up to cup his face, “my lord…” “cregan.” a smile plays on your face, “cregan, i have loved you since the moment i met you.” His face softens at your words, “even when i was an ass?” “especially when you were an ass.” He shakes his head in humor before he presses his lips against yours once again.

His hardness his your thigh and you moan. “i dont wish to force you.” “I want you to cregan. take me.” He wraps your legs around his hips as he aligns himself up to you, “if it hurts too much tell me.” you nod and your heart continues to pound in anticipation. It does hurt, it hurts like hell as his hard cock pushes its way past your walls, you find yourself biting his shoulder and he groans at your actions. When he bottoms out he pauses, allowing you enough time to adjust to him. Its hard to, when he is so big and you can feel every vein and the way he throbs against you. He pecks kisses around your face and down your neck to distract you, pouring his love into every peck.

“You can move.” “you sure?” it does not hurt as much anymore, sure there is a light sting but surely that will only add to the pleasure. “yes please fuck me cregan.” He lets out a noise one would only consider to be a growl, “you want me to fuck you? ill fucking fuck you.” His pace is quick but not too rough, its enough to have your toes curling with every thrust. He’s mumbling into your ear, words of praise but you can barely make sense of it as you begin to see stars. Your hands scratch down his back and he howls as you bite his shoulder. “fuck wanna see you full, with my kid.” you moan with pleasure at his words and nod your head eagerly, “yes yes yes i want that so bad please please.”

“You want my babes? for me to fuck you full and round? for you to carry my pups?” you nod eagerly against his shoulder as you begin to chant his name like its the only word you know and he calls out your name just the same. You can feel your stomach burning, “cregan im gonna im,” he shushes you as he only begins to move faster, one of his hands coming down to play with your bud. “cum fuck do it. wanna feel it.” He makes no moves to stop even as you burst around him, if anything he seems more motivated as the sounds of your skin slapping together grow louder. His thrusts your sloppy and his hips move more eagerly until you feel yourself being filled with his hot seed, pumping you full.

You two attempt to catch your breaths, you wipe his sweaty stuck hair away from his face as he grins at you. The moment suddenly ruined when loud banging hits his door and the two of you freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes. “Lord stark!” you recognize the voice as one of the squires and you watch as cregans face falls with annoyance. “what?” his voice is clearly angry as he spits at the door, seemingly having no intention of pulling out of you. “one of the lord has requested an audience-” “i am not available for the rest of the day.” “but my lord-” “leave me be.”

You can sense a pause from outside the room before the footsteps suddenly begin to fade away leaving the two of you alone once more. You open your mouth to speak but he sudden pulls out and spins you over quickly shoving himself back inside of you. there will be time to talk later it seems and when a maid walks in later that evening cregan makes no attempt to explain why the room smells as it does and why the windows are foggy. but everyone knows, the lord stark is not one for quiet women.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

I Can See You

"And I could see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission..."

Summary: You and Bucky don't see eye to eye, everyone knows that. They don't know that you and Bucky once knew each other under very different names. And they most certainly don't know that when he looks at you, he can still every stolen moment, his jacket on the floor, notes saying meet him at midnight, you up against the wall with him. No, they don't see that at all. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist | Anon's 1K Celebration

"I already told you, I'm only doing this because I owe you."

Six months - that was your promise.

Six months of your time and best efforts.

"And as a part of this favor, you promised to keep an open mind."

And an open mind, you begrudgingly recall. You promised you would keep an open mind about making this a more permanent placement.

Nick Fury was sure that you'd find a home here in the Avengers Compound.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn't - but you weren't going to tell him that.

You hated owing people. Nick Fury even more so. You could bide your time for six months to pay your debt to him. He didn't need to know you had no intention of becoming an Avenger. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Nick."

"That doesn't sound like an open mind," he admonishes.

You smirk, enjoying the frantic hustle and bustle of the Avengers Compound with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, "You know that I don't do well in teams. I don't play fair, Nick."

"Never heard that one before."

"But I bet you believe me, don't you?" you retort.

"Open mind."

You roll your eyes, waving him off, "Yeah, yeah, when exactly do I get to meet these self righteous assholes?"

"How does now sound?"

"Like my worst nightmare," you mutter under your breath.

If he heard you, he doesn't let it show. Nick flings the door to the conference room open, revealing two men standing beside each other poring over a case file.

It's not their impressive statures that catch your attention. In fact, the blonde one hardly catches your eye at all.

And if you weren't highly trained and disciplined, a gasp would've lodged itself in your throat at the sight of the brunette you never thought you'd see again.

"Ah, Nick told us we might be meeting you today." The sandy haired super soldier extends his hand out to you. It doesn't escape your attention that the brunette snaps the file shut the moment he sees you. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

You return the gesture, still barely paying attention to the man. Your eyes flicker to Bucky. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was entirely unfazed by your sudden reappearance.

You're thankful you do know better. You know so much better. 

Bucky's eyes meet yours for a split second, they narrow slightly. It tells you everything that you need to know. You've caught him off guard.

Steve takes Bucky's silence as his cue to interject. He clears his throat, gesturing to his friend, "And this is Bucky Barnes. He's a, well, he's a man of few words."

Apparently, that hadn't changed since you knew him under an entirely different name.

"It's nice to meet you," you say to Steve. Your eyes flicker back to Bucky. His jaw ticks as a wide grin pulls at the corners of your mouth. He's worried that you'll give away his dirty little secret. Your eyes flash over to him, a mischievous gleam that Bucky doesn't miss, "The both of you."

Steve smiles at the change in your demeanor, "Nick filled me in about your little deal. Exactly how long is this trial run going to run?"

"Six months," you confidently reply, unabashedly staring at Bucky. "I'll be out of your hair in six months."

"But we're keeping an open mind, aren't we?" Nick urges you again.

You playfully roll your eyes, a beaming grin on your face, "Of course, Nick. You know, I don't know why, but suddenly, I get the sense that these next six months are going to be a hell of a lot of fun."

"That's an interesting take," Steve lilts.

"She's your problem now," Nick quips.

"Me? A problem?" you gasp in mock offense. You turn to Bucky, who's still yet to say a word. "Do I look like a problem, Bucky?"

Bucky's eyes narrow again. The muscle in his jaw ticks yet again. You swear you can almost hear the sound of his teeth grinding. It's almost enough to make you laugh.

The silence is palpable as Bucky glares at you. Steve nervously laughs, taking a step closer to you. He gestures to your duffle bag, "How about I show you were you can put your stuff down? We'll give you a chance to settle in and you'll meet the rest of the team first thing in the morning."

"Sounds like a plan, Captain."

"Just Steve is fine."

"See?" You call over your shoulder to Nick. "I'm already having so much fun."

You're not surprised that he came to find you minutes later. If you're right, he waited just long enough to make sure he wasn't being obvious. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to feel his lurking gaze far before you see him. "I can see you."

"Why did you lie?" Bucky furiously demands, standing in the doorway of your new bedroom.

You grin to yourself, still turned away from Bucky. "Nice to see you again, Soldat."

"Bucky," he firmly states, his hands curling into tight fists. "My name is Bucky."

"If I recall correctly, you liked when I called you Soldat." You turn on your heel, taking several steps toward Bucky. He knows he should stop you. He knows he should stay as far away from you as possible, as far away from your bedroom as possible. And yet, there's a side of him that wants nothing more than to feel you close to him all over again. He doesn't stop you. He doesn't push you away. Not even when you're close enough to touch him. "Or did it sound better when I whispered it in your ear?" You lean in, your voice dropping to a soft whisper in his ear, "My Soldat."

He does his very best to suppress the shudder that rolls through his entire body. It takes him a beat longer than it should to regain his senses and take a step away from you. He demands again, "Why did you lie?"

You chuckle, finally stepping away and allowing him his space, "Would you prefer I tell your team mates about your history of getting a little too close to your enemies?"

"What makes you think that they don't know?" Bucky challenges. 

You languidly shrug, "We'll call it a hunch."

"I'm not that person anymore." Bucky takes an angry step forward, desperate to convince you that he's a changed man. "I don't keep secrets anymore."

"So tell them," you offer. "What do I care?"

"You cared enough to lie," Bucky shoots back.

"If you want to let your team know that we used to fu-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm not that person anymore," he repeats himself. This time, he's not sure who he's trying to convince.

"Then we shouldn't have any problems, should we?" you rhetorically ask.

His eyes narrow, his gaze sharp and ready to kill, "What are you up to?"

"Me?" You gesture to yourself, resting your hand on your chest. "I'm not up to anything. Come on, Soldat, don't you trust me?"

"No, I don't because I know you, and you're always up to something," he bitterly accuses. "You've always got an angle."

"I assume you're talking about that day."

"You sold me out."

"You'll never see, will you?" You roll your eyes at him, waving him off, "I'm simply doing the favor that was asked of me."

"Six months?"

"Six months. And no one will ever have to know. Unless, of course, you can't help yourself."

He scoffs, "That won't be a problem."

"History has a tendency to repeat itself, Bucky," you state, putting an extra emphasis on his name.

"Not this time. Here's how this is going to go." He reaches out, snatching your wrist. His grip is tight enough to force you to pay attention, but not enough to actually hurt. "I'll stay away from you, and you're going to stay away from me. Got it? Let's just - let's keep this professional."

A grin spreads across your face. Your eyes flicker down to the burning grip on your wrist. You like that, even now, even after all these years, you still have an effect on the man you once called yours. "Don't worry, Bucky. I'm as reformed as you are."

That's exactly what worried him.

The months passed as quietly as Bucky could ever bring himself to hope.

Still, you never quite let it rest, never let him rest.

You always had a way of letting him know that you could see him. You could see how he was struggling to contain himself, struggling to suppress every flashback, struggling to simply keep his eyes off of you, struggling to contain all the feelings that he denied he felt for you.

He wondered if you knew that you kept him up all hours of the night. There were so many nights he spent sleep evaded, wondering what would happen if he just knocked on your door. Would you be up waiting for him? Would you smirk that smirk? The one he'd come to love and hate all at once. The one that was haunting him. The one he saw every time he close his eyes.

It wasn't just at night. It was every night. Every day. Every waking moment that you danced somewhere on the outskirts of his awareness. Every time you brushed past him in the hallway. You had to know you were driving him to the brink of madness. 

Sometimes, you barely acknowledged him. Sometimes, you gave him that infuriating smirk. Every single time, he saw it. Every single time, he saw you.

That part of his life was, for lack of a better word, scrambled. And still, he could never forget your touch. That part was crystal clear.

And he couldn't decide whether he loved or hated the fact that it might just be you doing that to him.

It ate at him.

It was a special gift you possessed, he had to admit. You could make him see whatever you wanted him to see, the power to ensnare his senses. The good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. You had the power to do it, to make him see whatever you wanted him to. He told himself that's what it was. It wasn't remembering a long lost love, it was you messing with his head all over again. 

He'd see flashes of the time you spent together once upon a time. His jacket on the floor. Up against the wall with you. Those old, crumpled notes telling him to meet you at midnight. He remembers every second of it. 

But most of all, you. He remembers every whispered sweet nothing. He remembers the anticipation he felt every time he saw you. And he remembers your touch. Your lips on his, trailing down his jawline. Your fingers running over the planes of his chest.

Deep down, he knew it wasn't your powers. It was you. There was no forgetting a touch like that. No forgetting a person like you.

It just another way you tormented him. So few ever escaped the Winter Soldier. Even fewer lived to tell the tale.

Not you. You not only lived to tell the tale, you taunted him with it. After that very first night, where he was, you were. He was never quite sure if it was glorious happenstance or your own doing.

Your very first encounter, you caught him totally off guard - something previously thought impossible. He didn't see you. He didn't hear you coming. He didn't feel you slip past him to reach your target before he ever could. All he remembered was hearing footsteps in the dark street. He knows for a fact you could've disappeared into the night without him ever knowing. He whirled around, searching for the culprit. He saw nothing, no one. 

It should've been quick, an easy kill. Instead, it was the first time he ever failed.

To this day, he swears that he heard your whispered laugh when he realized his target was gone, vanished into the night.

You showed yourself the second time. He was more prepared that time. Not ready for it, but more prepared. The first time his vision failed him, he sprayed the room with bullets.

"Uh, uh," you condescendingly tutted, allowing him to see you standing before him. "Can't get rid of me that easily, Soldat."

He saw you standing before him for a short moment, just enough to memorize your face. And then he lost all sight. You stroked his cheek, he remembers that. It was the first time you ever touched him. It was the most tender touch he'd felt in decades.

When he regained his senses, you were gone. Along with his target. 

The third time, he caught you - or you allowed him to catch you. He wasn't quite sure.

"Who are you?" he demanded, pinning you against the wall.

"Poor, Soldat," you cooed at him. It confused him. There was no fear in your voice. For some reason, he knew that if he released your arms from his iron grip, you wouldn't punch, scratch, or claw at him. You wouldn't fight back. You'd taunt him with your touch all over again. And for a reason that was more unknown to him, he really wanted you to. "They truly tell you nothing."

His sight was gone, but this time, he refused to let go. He gripped your wrists hard enough to leave bruises, pinning them over your head, "Let me see you."

"Say please." There it was that taunt that he knew would come. There was a lilt to your voice he'd never forget. In that moment he knew, he was powerless against you and your whims.

"Let me see you. Now."  He grips you even tighter. For a long moment, he still saw nothing. All he could feel was your body pinned against the wall, pinned against him. He softly exhales, his breath dusting over your lips, "Please."

He thought he memorized your face the first time you allowed him to see you, but he was wrong. There was so much he missed. He missed the slope of your nose. How soft and plush your lips looked. The mischievousness shining in your brilliant eyes.

He studied your face again. Over and over. Forcing himself to commit every detail to memory. Your smirk melted into the warmest smile he'd ever seen you wear.

You lean into him, as close as his grip will allow you to. So close that your lips linger a breath away from his. For a moment, he thinks you're going to kiss him. Instead, you speak softly, your breath skating across his lips, "I like you, Soldat. We're going to have fun."

His heart still stuttered. At the time, he didn't know what you meant.

He learned quickly after that.

It was the definition of a whirlwind romance - or as close to a romance as two assassins could possibly get. Long nights spent beside you. Jet setting across the globe for missions, just waiting with bated breath in the hopes that you'd be there. You never talked about what it meant, what you felt, all you had were those nights. Somewhere in those nights, he stopped being Soldat, and he started being your Soldat. 

So was it you? Were you the reason he could still see it?

Or was it him? Was it the fact that he could never really let those nights go?

He was a different person than the one you knew all those years ago. He was on the straight and narrow. He stayed out of trouble. You were the epitome of trouble. You sold him out the moment it was convenient for you. So why can't he let you go?

You caught him off guard when you showed up here. He was determined to make sure that didn't happen again. He just needed to be on his best behavior.

He knows you've been watching him - but he can see you, too.

You make a point to brush past him in the hallway on the way to the conference room. He thinks you can't see it, but you've been watching him closely.

You can see the waver of his Adam's apple, the way his eyes dart in your direction when you pass him, the way his jaw ticks shut as if he were doing his very best to contain himself.

Your days here on the Compound were dwindling down to your last few weeks. He still couldn't figure out why he couldn't let you go.

Even as he sits across the conference room table, you overwhelm each and every one of his senses. You pretend like you don't see him taking the seat directly across from you. Instead, you lean closer into Sam.

Sam grins at you. "So you can show me anything?"

"Anything," you promise, driving Bucky mad by using that torturous smirk on Sam. 

Bucky's not sure what Sam sees. It could be anything. A powder white beach on some far off coast. A meadow filled with fragrant, vibrant flowers dancing in the daylight. You could make him feel like he was plummeting to his death. You could make him feel loved for the first time in his life. You could let him know a betrayal like no other. 

He shakes away the runaway train of thought, focusing on the far off look in Sam's eye and the look of wonderment painting his face, "Whoa..."

"Bucky," Sam calls, his voice filled with laughter as you use your gift like a party trick. "Come try this! She's like a human VR."

"As tempting as that is," Bucky sarcastically remarks, crossing his arms over his chest, "I'd like to get this meeting over with."

"Alright, team," Tony calls out, beginning their latest team meeting. "Fury added another assignment to our docket. Black tie, intercepting a black market intel deal. You get in, you get out. Should be easy enough."

"Whatever you say," Bucky mutters under his breath.

"Barnes," Tony smirks. "I'm so glad you agree. You're up."

"What? Why?" Bucky demands. 

Tony nonchalantly shrugs, "Because I said so."

"Asshole," Bucky grumbles.

Tony's eyes flicker over to you next. In that moment, Bucky freezes. There's no way Tony know about the two of you, but it certainly feels like Tony's doing this just to punish him. "And you can take the human VR with you."

"No," Bucky sharply refutes, gripping the table so tightly he's sure Tony will have to get a new one. "I go, I go alone."

"Sorry, Barnes, we'll need more than brawn to get us into that gala."

Six months. Almost six months passed and he'd done everything in his power to avoid this. To avoid being alone with you. To avoid working in close proximity to you and the aura of temptation and betrayal that shrouded you.

The number of favors he now owed to his teammates was proof of it. He had no interest in testing the limit of his will power. "Then, I'll take Wanda."

Tony crosses his arms, shaking his head and looking far too pleased at Bucky's discomfort, "Nope, she's needed on a different assignment."

You smirk, tongue running over your teeth like a predator watching their prey fall into their trap. "Careful, Bucky, I'm starting to get the sense that you don't want to work with me."

Bucky's eyes dart to you, grimacing at you, "Whatever."

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun."

"Bucky," Steve starts, tightly gripping his shoulder as the room filters out. "What's the problem?"

Bucky glowers at you as you saunter out of the conference room. Of course, you're far too pleased with this outcome. You make a point to grin at him as rage rolls off of him. "I don't trust her."

"Why? She's never given us any reason not to."

"Because -" Bucky starts, faltering after only a word. He can't bring himself to say why. That was between you and him. A memory he buried long ago. "Forget about it."

But he remembers. All of it. He remembers the moment you betrayed him and broke his heart all too well. 

"My Soldat..."

He sighs in relief, he finally stops pacing the floor of your safe house. You asked to meet days ago and you had yet to show up. Weeks had passed without hearing from you. You'd never gone this long without making yourself known. Finally, here you were, back in his arms where you would always belong,"It's been too long. I was beginning to worry."

"Don't ever worry about me, my Soldat." Your words are sharper than he's ever heard from you, it shocks him. You caress his cheek, fingertips trailing down to his jawline, your words soften to a gentle whisper, "Don't ever worry about me."

He bends down and kisses the palm of your hand, "I will always worry. For you, I will worry for as long as I live."

You smile, resting your hand over his beating heart. That's why you were doing this. You made deals with people you hated, resigned yourself to a life always looking over your shoulder, and sealed your fate, all to keep his heart beating, all to give him the long, happy life he deserved.

"And for that, you'll always be my Soldat." You kiss him with everything you have left. Your last kiss. A goodbye kiss. Because if you loved something, you set it free. If they came back to you, they would always be yours. And now, you were setting him free. And he would never forgive you for this. He would never be yours again. "And that's why it had to end this way."

"What are you talking about?"

You back away from the window of your safe house, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

And that's when the SHIELD agents swarmed.

It was a moment hard to forget. Yet it was equally hard to remember, to remember why he didn't trust you, to remember why he could never allow himself to let his guard down, not when you were so good at taunting him. He was sure you were taunting. He knew it from the very moment you stepped into the armory in a red dress that nearly stopped his heart.

You make it a point to saunter past him, tossing a laugh over your shoulder, "Don't worry, Soldat. I'll be on my best behavior."

"I won't hold my breath." Flashes of old memories race through his head. This time, he's sure it's you. His eyes snap up to you with a glower, "You said you were going to be behave."

"I said I was going to be on my best behavior," you correct, making a show of picking out your knives for the night. "This is pretty much as good as it gets."

"That's what I was worried about," Bucky sighs to himself.

"Lighten up, Soldier. It's my last night, I'd like to have just a little fun."

"Last night?"

"That was the deal."

Bucky's eyes dart away from you as you lift your leg up. The fabric of your dress slides up as you strap a small dagger to your holster. He knows you're doing it on purpose to rile him up. That's not what worries him. What worries him is if you're not doing it intentionally. If you're not trying to get his attention and he's just so viscerally aware of you that he can't stop thinking about you. That's what worries him. He doesn't trust himself enough to be this drawn to you. He clears his throat of the knot forming, "So you're not staying?"

"Why? You gonna miss me?" you tease. He remains silent, his eyes unflinchingly forward. "Let's not kid ourselves, Bucky. You didn't want me to stay. Too risky - I might ruin your squeaky clean reputation."

He's absolutely certain that you're the only person that's ever referred to his reputation as squeaky clean. "You're really leaving?"

"It's okay, Soldat."

"I told you not to call me that," Bucky snaps. He's aware that his self control is slipping minute by minute. Every second in your presence is a test of his restraint.

"Do you still remember? Can you still see it in your mind? Or do you need me to show you?"

"Stop." He barks the second a flash of the memory starts playing in his head. He can see himself tossing his jacket on the floor in a frenzy. "That's enough."

You smirk that damned smirk at him again. His fist clenches tightly, the knuckles of his flesh hand white with strain. "You're thinking about us right now, aren't you?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push the image out of his head, he frantically shakes his head, "Stop it."

"Do you want to know what I'm thinking about?"

"Not particularly," he rasps.

"Liar."

He clenches his jaw so tightly that he's worried he might break a tooth or two as he desperately tries to hold onto his last ounce of self control. He's fighting a losing battle. "I'm not a liar."

"So what would you do? If I touched you right now?" You rest your hand against his chest. "If I got just a little bit closer?"

He hopes you can't hear his heart stutter. "I - I wouldn't do anything."

"What if you knew they would never find out? If we were so quiet and we didn't make a sound?"

"It wouldn't change a thing."

"What if I told you I remember it all? Every night. Every mission. Every time you kissed me."

"I-" His voice falters. Now was his chance. This was it, whether he wanted you to stay or go. Would you stay if he admitted that he never stopped thinking about those stolen moments? Or would you betray him all over again and laugh in his face and smirk that damned smirk with pride at bringing him to his knees? He can't put his finger on it, but in this moment, he doesn't care. He'll take the chance. He swallows the knot in his throat, "I would tell you I remember all of it."

Your hand twitches against his chest. "What?"

"I remember every second. I'll never forget any of it. I could just never figure out: Was any of it real?"

"Can't you see, my Soldat?" Your hand skates past his collarbone, up his throat, coming to rest on his cheek. Your hand caresses him with a tenderness he thought he would never feel again. "It was always real. Every moment of it."

"Then why did you do it?" he softly exhales.

"I had my reasons."

He lunges forward, and in the blink of an eye, he's gripping your wrist and pinning it to the wall behind you, "Tell me."

You grin wildly. You've been here with him before. "Arrogant as ever, Soldat."

"If it was real, why did you do it?" he demands, flexing his grip.

You lick your lips, momentarily debating whether or not to give him the truth. It ate at you for years. From afar, you could live with the knowledge that he might always hate you for what you did. Watching the conflict warring in his eyes was an entirely different battle. You figure, of all the things you could give him, the truth would at least give him some sense of peace. "It wasn't safe."

He loosens his grip slightly, "I would've protected you."

"It wasn't safe for you."

His eyes flash open. "What?"

"You were my mission, Bucky," you finally confess. "There was never anything else - anyone else. It was you. Only you."

He lets go, the shock sending him staggering. Your hand skates down the wall, but he doesn't move back to allow you the space to move. "You were sent to kill me."

You tilt your head at him, "I clearly failed."

"That doesn't explain why you betrayed me."

"Someone found out about us."

He shakes his head, his eyes storming with anger, "No, we were careful."

"Someone knew. I got a nice gunshot in the back to prove it. They knew I wasn't going to complete my mission. They knew I was never going to kill you. I wasn't going to lead them right to you. I didn't know who was watching. I wasn't - I wasn't going to gamble your life until I was sure that they were all gone."

The realization dawns on Bucky almost immediately. Sure, you were one hell of an assassin. Sure, your powers were beyond belief and could take down even the most heinous villains. But not even you could singlehandedly take down the crime syndicate you used to work for. An organization almost as massive and pervasive as HYDRA was. That's why you put yourself in Nick Fury's debt. You did it for him. "That's why you owed Nick Fury. That's why you sold me out." 

"As twisted as it sounds, you were safer in SHIELD's custody. The moment I knew you were safe and in custody, I killed each and every one of them."

His voice is hoarse as he speaks, "You should've told me."

"I wasn't going to risk your life just so you wouldn't think badly of me."

"Then why did you come here?" he demands. "If you had no intention of telling me the truth, if you were going to pretend, why ask to come here?"

"I didn't ask to come here. I didn't know you were here. I stopped looking for you some time ago."

"Why?"

"I dug deep to finish what they started. And once I tore them down brick by brick, I needed to rebuild. I had nothing left. It took me a while to resurface."

"Oh." There's a tightness in Bucky's chest at your confession. He never looked for you. He though you betrayed him. Up until now, there was no reason to believe anything else. You rebuilt your life on your own. You had no one, nothing left. You were left all alone. He left you all alone. 

There's a strange look in Bucky's eye when you finally look up at him. There's a lightness you haven't scene in quite some time. "What?"

The corner of Bucky's mouth twitches up. You may not have known, but Nick Fury sure did. "Fury knew I was here. He knew where he was sending you. He knew about... us?"

"I assume he figured it out when I came to him, begging him to help me keep you safe."

A shaky exhale dances across your lips. Bucky closes the gap between the two of you, pressing you up against the wall with him. "It was real."

For the first time in a long time, you touch him. You rest your shaky hand against cheek, your fingers ghosting over his lips, "Finally, you see, it was real... my Soldat."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a

[concreteangel92]

Bubble Baths & Blanket Forts

Noah Sebastian x female reader

No warnings, all fluff

So this idea was inspired by the lovely fluffy messages I had last week, in particular @lma1986 and @collisionsofyourkissmakeitsohard and I just couldn’t stop thinking about it so here we are 🖤

I still have a load of requests in my inbox and my own works to try and get through over the next few weeks. It’s been manic in my personal life recently so writing might be a bit slower, we shall see but as always, thank you for your support and patience!

Although I’m thinking a smutty part 2 of this could be needed 👀

Permanent taglist: @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lma1986 @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @w0manof-flesh44 @dream-machine-love @thisbicc @amelia-acero @badomensls

Permanent taglist is new so if you wish to be added then let me know ☺️

Masterlist

It had been a bad day, a really bad fucking day. Everything that could have gone wrong, had gone wrong and you were so fucking done.

You’d been messaging your boyfriend about how shit your day was and how you couldn’t wait to get home and just curl up and forget about the world.

You walked up to the front door of your flat that you shared with Noah and put the keys in the door, thanking whatever god that was listening that you hadn’t dropped the keys because you knew that would be the cherry on top.

You opened the door and was immediately greeted by the most beautiful smell coming from the kitchen.

“Hey babe I’m home”

You threw your keys and bag on the side and hung your coat up, instantly feeling better knowing that you were at home.

You heard Noah’s footsteps coming from the kitchen.

“Hey beautiful”

You looked over and saw his smiling face as he walked over to give you a kiss and cuddle hello. You wrapped your arms around him and held onto him while you buried your face in his chest.

“I’m so glad to see you”

Noah kissed your head and squeezed you into him.

“Yeah you said it was a bad day today, want to talk about it?”

You shook your head.

“No, to be honest, I just want today to be over”

You pulled away and went to walk into the living room but Noah blocked your way and started to lead you down the hallway.

“You don’t need to go in there, I’ve run you a hot bubble bath so you can have a soak before dinner is ready”

You stopped and looked up at him in awe.

“Really?”

He smiled. “Really angel, I’ve just finished setting it up in there so go and relax and I’ll call you when dinner is nearly ready”

You leant up and pulled his collar slightly so he came down to your level for a kiss.

“You’re incredible do you know that?”

Noah had a playful look on his face. “I know, I’m brilliant. Now go get that beautiful backside of yours in the bath”

“Don’t fancy joining me?”

Noah smirked and gave you another peck.

“Not this time baby, tonight is all for you”

You smiled and turned towards the bathroom while Noah headed back off to the kitchen. When you opened the door, the sight nearly brought you to tears.

The whole room was illuminated by candles all around the room and around the bath. You could smell one of your favourite bath bombs coming from the water and you could see the steam still rising. You could hear your favourite music playing softly and folded up on the side was your comfy pyjamas, ready for you to put on after.

You stripped out of your clothes, tied your hair up and walked over to the bath, lifting one leg, you dipped your toes in first to test the temperature which was perfect and then you climbed in and lowered yourself down, not being able to stop the moan falling from your lips as the hot water instantly soothed your tense muscles. You let your body relax under the bubbles and shut your eyes.

You don’t know how long you stayed there for, it felt like an eternity before you were disturbed by a gentle knock on the door and Noah’s face coming into view.

“Hey baby, how are feeling?”

You kept your head rested on the back of the bath. “I feel so much better, thank you”

Noah smiled and grabbed a big fluffy towel and held it open to you.

“I’m sorry to say that you’ll have to come out now as dinner is nearly ready”

You nodded and reached down to pull the plug to let the water drain before you stood up, the bubbles clinging to your body.

Noah stepped forward and wrapped the soft around your body before he helped you step out.

“What’s for dinner by the way? I forgot to ask”

“Your favourite”

Your eyes lit up as you looked up at him.

“Steak?”

“Yes with all your favourites. Get yourself into your comfies and then meet me at the table”

You nodded, the smile not leaving your face, how could one man be so perfect.

You dried yourself off and got dressed, your body feeling so refreshed after such a bad day.

After making sure you blew out all the candles in the bathroom, you walked down the hallway and into the kitchen/dining area where you had the table set up.

All ready on the table was your dinner, which smelt absolutely divine and the table was set up with more candles and fresh red roses in a vase in the centre.

You honestly thought you could cry, Noah had thought of everything.

“I can’t believe you’ve done all of this”

Noah walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close into his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

“You said you had a bad day angel, I just wanted to make it better for you”

You leaned back into him, feeling so safe and secure in his arms.

“It’s incredible babe, thank you”

You feel him press a kiss into your hair and then he leads you over to the table, pulling your chair out for you and making sure you were comfortable.

The food was incredible, you both ate in a comfortable silence with the odd conversation here or there but mostly you were just enjoying sitting down together.

Once dinner was over and your food was settling, Noah cleared the plates away and came back over to you.

“I have one more surprise for you”

You looked up at Noah with a bemused smile “What? But you’ve done so much already!”

Noah gave you his million dollar smile and took your hand in his.

“I’ve saved the best until last”

Noah walked you down the hall and stood outside the living room door, now realising that he’d been stopping you from entering all night.

“Ok, close your eyes baby”

You smiled and shut your eyes. You heard him open the door before you felt his hands gently cover your face as he walked you into the room.

“Ready?”

You nodded my head, the anticipation running through your body as you heard him whisper “open” into your ear and he released his hands.

You opened my eyes and the breath was caught in your throat.

Noah had built a huge blanket fort around the room. Blankets all of sizes were tied to each other and hung up high to create a tent like den in the middle of the room and you could see fairy lights hung around the entrance.

“Oh my god Noah! You built this?”

Noah blushed and nodded.

“Yeah, I remember you said once that you used to build these all the time as a kid and loved hanging out in them, so I thought I’d bring that back for you”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you took it all in.

“Can we go inside?”

Noah laughed and wiped the tear away.

“Of course we can angel, this is all for you, we can shut the rest of the world out in our fort, no problems allowed in”

You laughed and hugged him tight, feeling his arms pull you closer to him.

“You’re perfect Noah, you really are”

You grabbed his hand and went over towards the entrance, Noah lifted up the small blanket that he’d used as the ‘doorway’ and you saw inside that he’d used even more blankets and loads of pillows to cover the floor and he’d even hung fairy lights inside to give a beautiful glow and made it all warm and cosy.

You crawled in, feeling Noah right behind you. You could just about sit up inside, Noah definitely struggling more due to his height so you lied yourself back amongst the pillows and curled yourself up into Noah’s arms.

“This is the best night ever”

Noah smiled down at you, you felt him absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair or over your back.

“I’m glad you like it angel, I hope I’ve made your shitty day better”

You lean up and press your lips to his.

“What shitty day?”

His smile matched your own as you both got comfortable, getting lost in the conversation and feeling safe within each other’s arms, knowing that nothing could prenatal your very own little fortress.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Cat Gets It

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: Tim finally meets your cat, Maverick, and it does not go as planned. Maverick hates Tim until he sees something special.

Warnings: just an angry cat and a lot of fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“This is my least favorite part,” you tell Tim as he walks you to your car. “Thanks for dinner.”

“You have to go home sometime,” he reminds you.

“Would you consider… Do you want to come to my place this weekend? We can watch a movie, just have a quiet night in,” you propose. “Not that I don’t love our usual dates, but…”

Tim smiles as you shrug and answer, “I’d like that. I’ll meet you there?”

You nod and assure him you’ll send the address before you kiss him goodnight. As you walk into your home, you look around and make a mental list of things you must do to prepare for Tim’s first visit to your home. You have been dating for a while, but he’s yet to come here. Or meet your cat, you remember as he meows from the back of the couch.

“Hi, Mav, buddy,” you greet, rubbing his soft fur. “We need to make this place extra welcoming for Tim, okay?”

He grumbles beneath you, but when you move your hand to scratch beneath his chin, he purrs and pushes against you. You’re excited to have Tim over, but you have no idea how Maverick, who is used to being the only guy in the house and your life, will respond.

“Hi!” you exclaim, wrapping Tim in an awkward hug before you invite him in. “What’s in the bag?”

“Just some snacks I remember you saying you liked,” Tim answers, passing the bag to you. “And cat treats.”

“You’re such a softie, Tim Bradford.”

Tim rolls his eyes and follows you inside, closing and locking the door behind him. You invite him to make himself at home as you walk toward the kitchen to prepare the snacks. A loud hiss pulls your attention back to the living room, and Tim lifts his hand in a show of good faith as Maverick arches his back and hisses again.

“Mav, stop,” you call. “Sorry, Tim, he’s never like that.”

Tim raises his brows like he doesn’t quite believe you. You pour the snacks into a large bowl with divided sections and carry it to the coffee table. You step toward Tim, and Maverick’s tail curls around him as he crouches. His ears flatten against his head as his pupils dilate.

“He does not like me,” Tim says quietly.

“I’ll put him in the other room,” you offer. “Sorry again.”

“It’s fine,” Tim assures.

You reach for Maverick, and he swats at you before running under the couch. With furrowed brows, you place your hands on your hips and sigh.

“He’s touchy,” you explain weakly. “He’ll probably hide under the couch until you leave, or I can receive permanent scarring by pulling him out.”

“I’m attached to your pretty skin, so I’d prefer the first option,” he responds.

“He- hopefully he’ll warm up to you.”

“This will get awkward if he doesn’t.”

You’re prepared to agree, then see the gentle smile on Tim’s face. As you sit beside him for movie night, only hearing hints of Maverick’s continued hissing, you silently plead with your cat to stop hating Tim because, even if you haven’t told him yet, you truly love Tim Bradford.

Throughout the next week, Tim comes by twice more, and Maverick reacts the same as before. He lunged toward Tim once because he touched your waist, and since then, Tim has kept at least a foot between you during visits. He sits on the floor, offers treats under the couch, and has private conversations with Maverick. Yet, Maverick continues to hate your boyfriend for some unknown reason.

“I don’t understand why he’s like this,” you say against Tim’s shoulder, content in a warm hug outside your front door.

“He’ll warm up to me, or he won’t, and we’ll deal with that,” Tim assures you, rubbing your back. “Maybe a few days in lockup would make him see how good I am.”

You chuckle, and after you wave goodbye to Tim, you turn and see Maverick watching you from the window.

“Work with me, Mav,” you ask through the window.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced,” Tim says as you open the door. “I just… can I come in?”

“Of course,” you reply, pulling the door open so he can enter. “Are you okay?”

Tim sighs as you close the door, and when you see his face, you notice the crease between his brows. He’s tired and stressed, and though you’re ecstatic that he came to you, your heart squeezes at the idea of Tim having a hard time.

“Come here,” you whisper, welcoming Tim into your arms.

He wraps his arms around your waist as yours circle his shoulders. With his face pressed against your shoulder, you rub his back and let him find comfort in silence for as long as he needs.

“Thank you,” Tim says as he straightens and steps back. “I went by the store on my way over here. Let me make you dinner?”

“After the week you’ve had? How about I make you dinner?” you counter.

“Meet in the middle and make dinner together?” Tim asks.

You smile and nod, offering your hand to make the deal official. Tim shakes it once, then kisses your knuckle and spins you quickly. The move makes you laugh before you catch yourself against his chest.

You stand together and feel Maverick’s tail swipe across your shin. You look down, surprised to see him circling your legs contently, especially while standing close to Tim. After a few laps around you, Maverick moves in a figure eight to walk around Tim, too.

“I think that’s progress,” you whisper.

“Maybe he finally saw that I care about you, and I’m not trying to take his place,” Tim adds. “Right, Mav?” Maverick freezes at the mention of his name, and Tim murmurs, “Too soon? I get it.”

Three days after the first successful visit, you invite Tim over again. You prepare a light dinner and set the table, only moving Maverick away from the place settings twice before Tim lets himself in. Maverick jumps from the barstool at your island and runs toward Tim, circling his legs and purring happily. Tim bends over and pulls Maverick to his chest, offering a small treat from his palm.

“Well,” you say as you take a picture. “It seems like my boys are finally getting along.”

“Maybe we finally bonded over our shared love for you,” Tim replies, gently rubbing Maverick’s ears.

“Tim,” you say, setting your phone down. “Put Maverick on the couch.”

“Why?” Tim asks defensively. “If it was too soon-“

“Please?”

Tim sighs as he moves Maverick to a couch cushion, and you smile as you rush toward him. Tim catches you effortlessly after you jump, holding you around the waist as your arms and legs circle him in a tight hug.

“I love you,” you say against his shoulder. His strong arms flex around your waist as you pull back to look at him. “I love you, Tim.”

He smiles and moves a hand to your face. “I love you, too. More than you know.”

“You dealt with Mav plotting your death, I have an idea.”

“No, you don’t,” Tim argues with a smile. Maverick meows loudly from the couch, and he adds, “See? Mav gets it.”