#he never gives up or stops his long journey to the top

[belatinysun]

this is one of the most beautiful panels of the ball boy arc AND the whole manga, it deeply shows hinata's hunger and desire to keep running to grow stronger despite the difficulties, despite the fact of feeling chained to the ground sometimes.

the angsty snowflakes falling around him create a beautiful but anxious atmosphere in which shoyo cycles faster, thinking about the mist mountain he still has to climb. and he doesn't fear it at all 🧡

comparing the colored version with my physical manga ❄️

[illusioninfnty]

"i'll do anything!" ↠ day 23 ; virginity loss

↠ bo sinclair x reader

fandom: house of wax word count: 2.8k warnings: nsfw 18+, bimbo!reader, reader has shitty friends, coercion, corruption, dubconish, fingering, blowjob, cum swallowing, dirty talk, kind of semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pervy!Bo, allusion to murder, the plot is like a bad porno but i promise this is good guys

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

“God, did you forget to fill the tank again?”

You lean over from the backseat to take a look at the fuel gauge, and see the arrow is nearing empty. You furrow your eyebrows. “I was sure it filled up all the way,” you murmur. You try to recall when you all last stopped at a gas station, and how your friends delegated you to fill up the car while they went into the shop and bought snacks.

“Well it obviously didn’t, you idiot!” Your friend jerks the wheel and pulls over on the side of the desolate road. “This is why we never like to go anywhere with you.” 

You bite your lip, holding back tears. It wasn’t your fault that you were so forgetful sometimes, always getting distracted and lost in your thoughts.

This was supposed to be a fun road trip with your three closest friends, celebrating your college graduation nearing. But after a car karaoke session that went on for too long made you guys miss an exit, you’d been stranded on empty roads with nothing but trees surrounding you for quite a few miles now.

Your friend sitting in the backseat with you turns to face you, her arms crossed against her chest. “You should be the one to go find a gas station,” she protests. “It’s your fault we got stuck out here anyway.”

Your two friends in the front row look back at you and then at each other before nodding in agreement.

You crane your neck to look at the journey that would be ahead of you. It looked as though it continued to stretch for miles and miles with no end in sight, only the empty road and dying trees.

“By myself?” you ask hesitantly.

All three nod in unison.

You huff in defeat, unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of the vehicle.

“I’ll try to be back—”

They slam the door in your face before you can answer.

“—Soon,” you finish before sighing and starting the long walk, hoping to find some destination before it got too dark.

~

Bo was not expecting to see a pretty little thing like you around Ambrose when it was nearing dusk, especially all alone. You had your arms wrapped around your bare midsection, and even from his spot inside the gas station he could see that you were shivering from the cool air as the sun set. You were looking around frantically, and he could tell immediately that you were lost and looking for help.

He smirks. Oh, he’d help you, alright. Bo took that as his cue to reveal himself to you. He wipes his hands with a dirty rag and tosses it aside, exiting the station.

You hear the ringing of the bell as Bo opens the door, and you turn your head towards the source of the sound. You scurry on over, seeing Bo in his mechanic’s uniform.

“Sir! Hi!” you start, fumbling over your words. “You work here, right? Do you have some gas? My car—well, it’s my friend’s—but it’s, like, miles back there and we ran out.” 

Your eyes then shift to the side and he could tell you were embarrassed. “It’s kind of my fault.”

Hmm. Sir. He liked hearing that come from your pouty lips.

Bo gives you a toothy grin. “Don’t gotta worry your head ‘bout it, sweetheart. I’ll get ya all settled. Come with me.” He slides his hand across your lower back, just barely grazing your ass. You gasp under your breath at the feeling, and Bo can’t help it when his cock stirs at the sound.

As you walk into the gas station, Bo scans you up and down. He notices that you have nothing on your person but your clothes, and even then it’s just little scraps of a skimpy top and skirt—which means you must’ve forgotten a wallet, too. His grin widens even more.

Reaching behind him without you noticing, he cranks the thermostat down. The air gets cooler within seconds, and Bo revels in seeing your nipples harden as they poke through your top.

He goes to find a can of gas, rolling up his sleeves as he plucks it from a top shelf. He notices when you gulp and stare at his muscles as he flexes them subtly.

You were such a cute little doll. He was going to have fun with you.

He plops the can on the counter. You go to reach for it, but he holds a hand out. “Ten bucks, little lady.”

Your eyes bulge almost comically and it takes all of Bo’s strength not to laugh at your expression.

“Wow, that’s a lot more than I thought it would be,” you say nervously, shifting on the balls of your feet.

Bo exaggerates a sigh. “Times are tough out here, owning a small business like this. We don’t get many customers out here.” He opens his hands to motion to you the desolate town of Ambrose.

You completely buy into his bullshit excuse, nodding your head in complete understanding. “Oh my god, that sucks, like, a lot.” Patting down your lame excuse for a shirt, you look up at Bo with wide eyes, jaw dropped in surprise. “I forgot to bring my wallet!”

You were such a dumb little thing. What were your sorry excuses of friends thinking, sending you off all alone?

“I’m so sorry, sir!” You clasp your hands in front of you in a pleading manner, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. Bo holds back a groan. Jesus, those eyes could make a man cream his pants if he wasn’t too careful. “Please, is there anything I can do to pay you back? I’ll do anything!”

Bo pretends as if he’s thinking long and hard. Oh, he knew exactly what you were going to do as payment.

“You know, I get lonely sometimes,” Bo starts, a mock frown on his face. “A cute lady like you could really help a man like me out.” He shuffles up to you, and palms your ass under that sorry excuse for a skirt.

“Oh!” You gasp, grabbing onto his arm. “That’s really sad, sir.” You look lost in thought for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know if I can do that for you though.” You bite your lip, looking unsure of yourself.

“Aw, you gotta be kidding,” Bo clicks his tongue, rubbing his hand around the plumpness of your behind. “I bet you’ve helped lotsa guys out, huh?”

“A-actually,” you look down in shame. “I’m a—” you lower your voice to barely over a whisper, “—virgin.”

Bo blinks. That wasn’t a response he was expecting from you. So the slutty clothes were just for show, was it?

“Oh really?”

You nod, blatant regret all over your face. “I don’t think it’ll be good for you, ya’know, since I haven’t really had any practice and all that.”

He puts a smile back on, laughing gleefully and patting you on the shoulder, rubbing a thumb between the groove of your collarbone. “Well, that’s no problem for me, sweetheart. I can teach ya!”

Your eyes lighten up. “You can?”

“Sure I can!” He starts to undo his belt, throwing it aside on the counter. “Just need you to get on your knees for me and I can show you what to do.”

His cock jumps in anticipation, looking forward to seeing your juicy, plump lips wrapped around—

“Wait a minute!” you cry out, interrupting his fantasies.

Bo pauses in his movements, his jaw ticking at your interruption. “Yes?” he askes, concealing his frustration.

“What’s your name? I don’t wanna do this without knowing it.”

He sighs and points to the nametag on his jacket. “I’m Bo.”

You slap a palm across your forehead and nervously giggle. “Oh jeez, I should’ve known to look first!”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Bo mutters through his teeth impatiently. “Now lemme help you out, alright?” “Oh! Yeah, sorry!” You—finally—drop to your knees in front of him. “What do I need to do?”

The sight of you in front of him like that, so eager and pliant, had his cock jumping in his pants.

Bo lowers his jeans and boxers, his hard cock now revealed to you. He wraps a hand around the base stroking his full length as it puts it on display for you.

“That’s…big,” you murmur. You look up at him, concern plastered across your features. “I dunno if it’s gonna fit.” Your eyebrows crease together and those damn pouty lips of yours come out again.

Bo bites his cheek to conceal his smirk. This was gonna be a lot more fun than he thought. “I told you, that’s what I’m helping you with, ain’t I?”

You nod.

“Great. Now open those pretty lips up for me.”

You open your mouth as wide as you can, giving Bo a perfect hole to stick his cock into. He guides himself inside you, hissing as the warmth of your mouth envelops his length.

“Good girl,” he praises. He begins to thrust his hips slowly, your lips latching onto him as he does so. “You gotta let me move, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” you mumble around him, and he groans at the vibrations that travel up his cock.

Your lips loosen and you start to suck on his cock, the suction of your lips making shivers of pleasure run down his spine. He grips the back of your head, controlling the pace of his thrusts.

“Fuck, look at you,” Bo hisses. You look so pretty and innocent with his cock stuffed down your throat, gags escaping your lips. “You’re a natural. Sure you haven’t done this before?”

“I told you—!”

Bo slaps your cheek, shushing you. “Stop talking.”

You nod obediently, the action making him pulse inside of your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens as his thrusts become harder, more primal. He fucks your mouth with vigor, ignoring your gags and the way your nails dig into the skin of his thighs.

He cums faster than he’s ever had before, groaning as his hot release coats the back of your throat. You cough around his cock, spurts of liquid splashing against your cheeks.

“Swallow it,” Bo commands.

You gulp harshly, your lips still secured around his cock. The extra pressure has him bucking his hips and like a good girl you swallow all of his cum. He pulls his cock out of your mouth, and you begin to cough and sputter as you regain your breath.

“Is that it?” you question him.

“Baby, I still gotta get rid of that virginity of yours.”

“Oh.” You giggle behind your hand. “Right.” You start to strip, only taking a couple of seconds since you’re practically naked already. “What do I do now?”

Bo’s cock hardens back to life at your nude form in front of him. Your nipples are hard, attached to your perky breasts that bounce up and down right in front of his eyes. He stares lecherously, licking his lips. “Now that you got my cock all wet,” Bo rubs his length, now slick with his cum and your saliva, “I can stick it in your pussy.” You bite the inside of your cheek and nod, your eyes flicking between his face and his cock. “I know I asked before,” you begin, and Bo moves to place your hand over his cock, “but will it really fit?”

Lord, he was really starting to understand why your friends let you go alone.

“Yeah, I told you, I’ll make it fit.” He lifts you from the back of your legs and places you on top of the counter. He brings his thick fingers to your pussy, sticking a fingertip inside.

You gasp and arch your body into him, throwing your arms around his broad back. Your bare breasts brush up against his chest and he relishes in the contact. 

“That feels really good, Bo!” you cry out. He adds a second finger inside of you, pushing the digits in deeper. He can feel how wet you are and the way you clench around him so desperately. Your hips jerk into him unsteadily, chasing the pleasure his fingers bring you.

He chuckles. “It’ll feel even better when I stick my cock in you.”

Bo removes his fingers, basking in the way you whine as he pulls them out, leaving you pulsing and desperate to be around him. He lines his throbbing cock with your entrance and pushes himself in without hesitation.

“Bo!” You scream, nails digging into his back. Little gasps leave your mouth as he begins to thrust in and out of you. Your pussy grips him like a vice, and it’s difficult for him to move inside you with you so needy for him.

He shushes you, gripping your cheeks and watching as tears leave your eyes.

“It hurts,” you whine to him. Your nails grip onto him as if your life depended on it.

He shoves his face into the crevice of your neck, placing kisses upon it. “Gotta relax a bit for me, okay?” he coos into your ear. “Or it won’t feel good for you.”

“You promise?” you ask through glassy eyes.

He nods, and feels as you unclench just a tad around him. Bo is able to rut himself into you harder now, and he can’t help but be more forceful with his thrusts as it causes your breasts to bounce right in front of him.

“Look at that.” He motions towards where the two of you are connected, his cock pulsing at the way your blood and juices coat the base. “Look at how we're connected now.”

Oh wow,” you gasp in awe. “That’s kinda romantic, huh?”

Bo doesn’t respond. If you wanted to put it that way, he wouldn’t stop you. He ignores the way his heart stutters in his chest.

His hips continue to pound into you, your body bouncing along with the power of his thrusts. The whines that come out of your mouth sound so angelic, and Bo has to fight the urge to kiss you.

“I—I think I’m gonna cum,” you moan out, your head thrown back and your eyes are scrunched up in pleasure.

Bo didn’t need you to tell him that. Your pussy goes back to clenching down on him, your walls tightening around his cock, fitting themselves to the shape of him. He curses quietly into your neck. He never wanted to leave the warmth of your pussy.

“That’s it, baby,” Bo coaxes you. He moves a finger to your clit, enjoying the way you jolt at the newfound sensation as he rubs circles on the bead. “Cum around my cock.”

“Cumming!” Your voice is squeaky as your legs come up to wrap around his backside, and you finally reach your peak. Your pussy tightens around Bo even more, and he can’t help it when he cums for a second time as you squeeze every last drop out of him.

You pant heavily as you come down from your orgasm, sweat rolling down your temples despite the cold air of the station that surrounds the two of you.

Bo’s own breathing is heavy, something he’s not used to much. You squirm out from beneath him as you drop from the counter, legs still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm. You bend down to gather your scraps of clothing, and Bo has to take all of his strength to conceal his groan as he watches his cum slowly leak out of your pussy.

“Leaving so soon?” Bo didn’t know what compelled him to say that. You were just some cute college kid passing through that was a chance to get his dick wet. Yet there was something about you that drew him to you, like a moth to a flame.

You shimmy back into your clothing, and he notices how you ignore the trail of his cum that runs down your thigh. “My friends’ll be mad at me if I take too long getting back.” You pause in your movements. “I can take the gas now, right?”

Bo’s heart drops in his stomach. He realizes quickly that no, he wasn’t going to let you take the gas. In fact, he wasn’t going to let you leave at all. He wanted you—needed you—here with him. He couldn’t let a pretty little thing like you just pass by him like that.

He glances outside quickly. The sky's already turned to a pitch black hue, and he knows there’s no streetlights on your way back to where your friends wait for you. He turns back to you as you stand awaiting his answer.

“It’s pretty dark out there, little lady.” You peek over his shoulder, and your eyes widen as you realize just how late it had gotten. “It ain’t safe for you ta’ be out walkin’ all alone. Why don’t you stay over at my place for the night?”

“B-but what about my friends?” A pout overtakes your face and you look up at Bo with puzzled eyes.

Bo smirks, holding you close to his chest and running a hand over your hair. “Don’t need ta’ worry about them, sweetheart. My brother’ll come an’ fetch ‘em.”

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 5 - Better

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Hi! I'm sorry this took so long, work has been kicking my bum lately and I haven't had much writing time. But it's here - the final part! I hope you like it. Thanks to everyone who has reblogged/commented/engaged with this story - it means so much. Thank-you!!

💔

One week later…

You were cleaning tables when you glanced at the diner’s clock and realised it was almost 9am. Friday was here once again…

…Would he be in as usual?

It was raining heavily outside, throughout the early shift your regulars had rushed in and shaken the sogginess off their coats and umbrellas once they were safely over the threshold of the diner. You’d chatted with them, commiserating with them about ‘this damn weather’ and promising to warm them up with coffee and breakfast.

You’d spent your time off this last week popping into the hospital to see Lou. He was doing well, making progress, but the road to recovery was long. He needed to make major adjustments to his lifestyle and potentially engage in physical therapy as they think he’d also had a small stroke. He got his personal mail delivered to the diner and asked you to open it and keep him updated with anything pressing. The medical bills you’d seen were already dizzying and his insurance only covered part of it, but you couldn’t bother him what that just yet – he didn’t need the stress on top of everything else. You’d figure it out. You always did.

Lou had made you acting manager to pick up the slack while he was gone. You were pulling extra hours, working overtime to ensure the ship remained afloat while the captain remained on the shore. It was tough, but you couldn’t deny you loved the buzz of being in charge – of keeping everything moving.

You hadn’t seen Bucky since that night at the hospital. He’d insisted on driving you home after you’d said goodbye to Lou, ignoring your protests that the subway was perfectly fine…

“The subway, doll? Fuck no. Not on my watch”.

You’d rolled your eyes, knowing you didn’t have the energy to fight him after the evening you’d had. He knew it too. You’d merely sighed and hopped into the back of his SUV as you gave him your new address, giving a little wave to Clint who was driving.

The two of you sat in the back in silence for the entire journey, you watched the city flying past you from the window and it felt strange that the outside world was just continuing around you like normal while yours had almost collapsed.

The car rolled to a stop in front of your building, and you turned to Bucky. He seemed to be studying you carefully, concern drawn across his features. Even after all this time and distance, the beauty of his face still took your breath away at times.

“Thank-you…for the ride. For dinner. For showing up…all of it,” you said softly.

He nodded stoically, “always. Look…no matter what happens between us, I’ll always show up for you if you need me. Any time, any place. And Lou is going to be just fine, alright?”

Almost instinctively you found your hand sliding across the leather of the seat towards him. He looked down as your hand moved to find his. You clasped your fingers around his metal digits, the cool sensation against your skin was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. They in turn wrapped around yours and the two of you sat holding hands for a short while. You didn’t speak or look at each other, just both existing in the moment and concentrating on the feeling of your hands entwined. You paused, wanting to say more – but unable to quite find the words.

Eventually you couldn’t bear the strange tension in the air. You gently withdrew your hand and cleared your throat as you shuffled across the seat towards the door.

“Well, thanks again. And for the ride, too”.

“Anytime. Nice building…” he peered out of the window at your apartment block.

“Ah yeah, thanks,” you said proudly.

“You doing okay, living there?” he asked quizzically in his Brooklyn-lilt, his brows furrowed.

“Mm…I mean, it’s not as fancy as your place,” you chuckled, “it’s kinda cramped and small, but it’s cosy and warm. And it’s mine,” you told him with fondness.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “My place was yours too, you know”.

You chewed on your lip, you hadn’t intended it as a slight against him. “I-I know Buck…but…you know what I meant”.

He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah…that’s good. I’m pleased for you, really”. His nose crinkled as he looked at you fondly. It was a little mannerism of his that you’d missed.

You shared a small smile before getting out of the car and heading inside. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look back at the car, a storm of emotions fighting to escape you. Your fatigue mixed with your anxieties about Lou, confusion about this sudden shift with Bucky now swelling. You could tell from the quiet behind you that the car hadn’t pulled away yet, no doubt waiting until you were safely off the street. You put your key in the door and quickly moved inside.

That was last week. You hadn’t spoken to him since, although you’d wondered if you should reach out. You thought he might’ve been in touch – a text, a call, but nothing. It was nice, he was leaving the ball in your court and not crowding you, respecting the boundaries you’d established. But part of you couldn’t shake the small sense of disappointment that lingered, too.

The fact was you couldn’t deny that something was stirring. Bucky, who you’d long written off and blacklisted for his betrayal, had started to be on your mind more and more. He had crept back into your brain.

You didn’t believe the old adage that time healed all wounds, but it had certainly helped. The space you’d had from him a year on from the incident had allowed you to find yourself again, the parts that you hadn’t realised you’d lost after diving headfirst into your relationship with Bucky. You still felt immense pain when you thought about what happened…but you also thought about how he had been true to his word. He hadn’t tried to force you back, not aggressively pursuing you or trying to talk you round. His weekly mornings at the diner had never felt pointed or manipulative. You believed that he was just happy to have you in his life, like he’d said. You’d since found your own place, started therapy and looked at your own issues, thrown yourself into work. Remembered who you were before you were ‘mob boss girlfriend’. You knew that what had happened with Bucky was not your fault, it wasn’t your job to reflect and change accordingly – that was all his. But still, having the space and time to work on yourself…it was refreshing. One small silver lining on this ugly, black cloud.

You���d also been on a few dates over the last few months. Nothing to write home about. A few nice guys, a few less than nice guys. Nothing had truly sparked for you; nobody had piqued your interest enough to want to really explore more than a few dinners or coffees. Maybe it was because of how things ended with Bucky, or you just hadn’t met someone right for you, or maybe you were just off dating altogether…But it wasn’t something you felt real enthusiasm for at this point. But that was okay. It had been fun to dip your toe back in the dating pool, and you weren’t averse to trying again when the moment was right, or you met the right person.

Unless of course, it was because someone else was on your mind.

Your slow burn friendship with Bucky had crept on you, taken you by surprise. The man who had once broken your heart now had a new place in your life. It was strange, but in some ways, you knew him better than you had when you were together. Despite your previous connection - your conversations had opened territory up you’d never covered together before, previously too caught up in passion and heat to dive as deeply as you had now.

And most importantly, he had shown up for you that night at the hospital, been there for you without you needing to ask. He had brought you dinner and stayed by your side without a word, because he knew you needed not to be alone – needed support. You were touched by his care for you, his willingness to clear his schedule for you at the drop of a hat. It meant a lot. It meant everything. He had intuited how you felt and acted immediately. He was there.

You didn’t know what it meant, if anything. Something had changed, the safe barrier of diner breakfast chats had been crossed. Part of you was panicking – no! Don’t let him get close, not again! Remember what he did! But another part of you had missed him deeply, longed to hold him again and wake up to him each morning. Your thoughts were a spiralling mass of contradictions and conflict, nothing made sense.

You weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what happened.

But could you try?

Roscoe snapped you out of your thoughts as he passed you the latest batch mail on his way by. You thanked him, flicking through the junk mail until your attention was caught by the hospital logo on one of the envelopes. You winced, tentatively ripping open the paper as you braced yourself for the latest bill.

You cursed under your breath as you unveiled the total figure, a stupid amount of money. You spiralled as it sank in, wondering if Lou would have to sell the diner in order to settle his debt. You knew he didn’t have anywhere near enough in his savings. You thought about all the jobs that could be at stake, including yours, and your heart ached most of all knowing that the restaurant was Lou’s baby. It would break him to give it up.

Maybe you could call them, sort out a payment plan…something?

You tried to calm yourself down, thinking about what your therapist would say about your immediate jump to the worst-case scenario. Relax. You can fix this. Remember your mindfulness exercises. Life would find a way.

The opening of the front door pulled you from your catastrophising. You glanced over, making eye contact with a rather damp Bucky as he entered the diner. He sighed, shaking the rain from his coat as he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“A lovely morning…” he muttered, deadpan.

You smiled, stuffing the hospital bill into your apron pocket and going to grab the coffee jug, “Morning, Buck. Get a little wet?”

“A little,” he gruffed, slotting himself into his usual booth.

You chuckled as you filled up his mug.

“How’s Lou?” he asked, shaking the rain from his hair.

“He’s doing better, thanks for asking. They’ve got a whole treatment plan worked out for him - so that’s positive”.

“Good. Glad to hear. You over here running the show while he’s out?”

“Something like that,” you smiled, then shuffled on your feet as you realised you needed to talk to him. “Bucky, I-”

A loud clatter and exclamation from the kitchen cut you off, causing you both to look over at the disturbance. You sighed with exasperation.

“Ah. Duty calls…I’ll put your order in while I’m in there”.

You rushed off to sort out whatever mess waited for you in the kitchen as Bucky smiled playfully at your annoyance.

He noticed something had fallen out of your apron as you dashed off. A piece of paper. He leaned over to pick it off the floor for you in case you needed it. Before he realised it was private and had a chance to look away, his eyes were immediately drawn to the monstrous sum at the bottom of the page. Ah. He grimaced as he quickly put two and two together, folding the paper neatly and leaving it on the table. He took a sip of his coffee.

You appeared a little while later with his order, sighing heavily as you placed the plate in front of him.

“Sorry about that…Roscoe and Ron were fighting about if the bacon was too crispy, and some trays got caught up in the carnage. Never a dull moment around here…”

You suddenly noticed the paper on the table, your words trailing off as your eyes locked onto it. You snatched it away quickly, shoving it into your apron.

“That’s not…that’s-” you floundered, embarrassed for him to have seen it.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop. You dropped it, so I picked it up and then realised what it was,” he explained softly.

“It’s fine. I’m dealing with it,” you shrugged, desperate to appear nonchalant.

“Sit down, doll”, he said sternly.

You scoffed, “Bucky…I’m busy running a restaurant here…”

He paused, looked up and bellowed across the diner, “Roscoe! Ron! Handle things while your boss takes a break!”

You rolled your eyes, turning to see Roscoe and Ron nodding furiously as they scattered and suddenly started working harder than you’d ever seen them. They had always been afraid of Bucky. You stifled a laugh.

“Problem solved, now sit,” he gestured.

You reluctantly sat down opposite him, “Bucky…”

“We’re gonna talk”.

“I don’t need-”

“No. Let’s do this”, he said sternly.

You folded your arms in front of you, fully aware that you resembled a petulant teenager but not caring enough to stop.

Bucky cleared his throat, taking a sip of his coffee before picking up the letter. “Now, I don’t want to overstep…but I can take care of this you know…”

You shook your head. “No. Thanks for the offer, but no,” you told him firmly.

“Alright. That’s fine. So, Lou has enough to cover it?” he asked, “all of it?”

You nodded a bit too quickly, “mmhmm”.

Bucky caught it immediately, your lie. You noticed the quirk of his brow and the subtle rubbing of his lips together. Damn him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he sipped his coffee again and ate a few forkfuls of his meal, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and tilted his head quizzically. “Guess it’s all wrapped up, then”.

You nodded again in agreement, but knew he wasn’t done.

He took his time, casually taking a few more bites of his breakfast and sipping his coffee. You knew his relaxed demeanour was a careful façade…you had somehow found yourself at the centre of a famed Bucky Barnes interrogation.

You tried to appear relaxed, as if you had nothing more to add.

“Because…” he started.

Ugh.

“…because, if he didn’t have enough. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”

“Mmm. It would. But it’s not…so…”

“Right”, he cut you off. “But if he didn’t – great eggs today by the way – if he didn’t, that would be putting this place at risk, right? All the staff here and their jobs. Your job?”

“Right,” you replied, your voice a little strained.

“And of course Lou himself…he loves this place. It’s his baby. I’m sure he’d be devastated if he had to give it up to pay his medical bills. Especially as the last thing he needs right now is more stress and financial worries on top of his ill health”. He paused again to eat, not even looking up.

You nodded; your eyes now slightly cloudy now.

“Yep…” you said meekly.

He looked up at you, his eyes intensely locked onto yours, gesturing towards you with the fork. He was in full swing now. The diner suddenly felt much hotter, you could feel tiny beads of sweat forming on your forehead and the back of your neck.

“And I hope it would be known, if that was the case of course, that my offer would have no strings attached. Because I could imagine someone might decline it out of pride, or concern that it would have conditions and that person would then be in some sort of debt to me…either financially or emotionally. And if that was the case, I’d want to reassure them that it would only be a friend looking out for a friend, helping because I want to, and I can, and God knows I should do something nice once in a while to even out my moral scales…”

The barrier broke and your tears finally escaped, the stress about Lou and this intimidating bill, and your confusion about how you felt for Bucky, all finally coming to the surface. You cupped your face in your hands as you quietly sobbed.

“I’m sorry, I just…I…”

Bucky moved like lightning, whipping around to your side of the booth as he swung in next to you.

“Hey…hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to be clear what my offer entailed; but I understand why you’d be reluctant to accept my help”.

He pulled a few napkins from the dispenser and tenderly wiped away your tears.

“It wouldn’t be a loan, doll, and you wouldn’t need to make nice with me to say thanks. You could call me an asshole and dump these eggs on my head, and I’d still pay in full with a smile. There’s no expectation here, no contract – legal or implied”.

You sniffed, looking up at him blearily, “you’d really do all that for me…but…why?”

He paused, then very delicately used his thumb to collect the tears forming at the side of your eye.

“You know why,” he said plainly.

Your heart panged, and you looked down at your hands in your lap, clutching at one of the now-soggy napkins he’d given you. You sniffed again as you regained your composure, suddenly feeling exposed in front of him. The two of you stared at one another for a few moments and you were so desperate to tell him everything, but you couldn’t form the words. You hoped he would elaborate and fill in that gap for you, but he didn’t.

He quietly got up, putting on his coat and placing some bills down on the table to cover his check. He leaned over and kissed you on the crown of your head, then used a finger to tilt your chin up to look at him.

“You don’t have to decide anything now,” he told you as he looked into your eyes, “Think it over. I’ll be back here next week like always”.

He smiled at you, then disappeared out into the street. You heard the roaring of the rain outside as the diner door opened, the little bell above the frame chiming to announce his departure.

You missed him already.

You looked down at the hospital bill in your hands, the total at the bottom practically screaming from the page.

He’d hurt you so badly, you weren’t sure if you could ever fully forgive him for that fateful night. You understood it had been his insecurities, you understood he had lashed out after he thought his worst fears were realised – but that had only even explained his actions, not justified them.

Although…he’d always been there over the last year. Slow and steady, but he’d taken the time to rebuild his relationship with you platonically. He’d let you manage the pace, never tried to force anything more than you were willing to give him.

…and he’d been there for you.

He continued to be there for you.

It wasn’t about the money. He wasn’t trying to pay you off to win favour. He was just trying to be there for you, and this was something he had the power and resources to help you with.

He was your friend.

He loved you. He’d continued to love you…

“Are you back off break, boss?” Roscoe rudely interrupted your train of thought, “Ron said that the fryer-”

You were pulling off your apron before your brain could even catch up with your body.

“Nope,” you shot back, firing out of the booth at full speed as you tossed the apron at him on your way out, “a little longer…”

You left Roscoe gawping in your wake as you sailed through the front door. You yelped in shock as you stepped out into the downpour, you’d forgotten about the mini storm happening beyond the restaurant doors. It was so dark outside it looked more like early evening than the morning hours. You looked down at your immediately soaked uniform, your work shoes flooding as you traipsed through the puddles…

Focus!

You surveyed the street, your eyes catching a brief glimpse of the SUV turning the corner. The instantly recognisable JBB107 plates drawing your focus in the split second before they vanished.

And so you ran.

You sprinted after the SUV waving your arms, shouting for it to stop. A concerned elderly lady asked if you were okay but you sailed on by. You must’ve looked utterly insane.

You rounded the corner and rushed up behind the SUV as it slowed. The back door flew open, and Bucky suddenly appeared out of it, a look of horror on his face as the vehicle pulled over.

“Doll! Jesus Christ, what the- are you okay??” he shouted to you as you approached.

You didn’t answer, just flung yourself inside the car as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid across the seat to give you room. The divider screen was up so you couldn’t see the driver. One less person to witness your mortifying display, at least.

“Fuck…you must be freezing,” he muttered as he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and leaning over to close the car door behind you.

You were, your teeth chattered. Your hair was wet and matted, your uniform soaked through.

“Bucky…” you said hoarsely as you dripped all over his plush car interior.

“What is it, doll?” he asked, his eyes wide and alarmed, “what’s going on??”

You couldn’t find the words so you acted purely on instinct, you cupped his face and kissed him. Kissed him hard. Kissed him longingly. He caught up quickly and kissed you back, his fingers tangled in your soaking hair. It was desperate, messy. Your teeth clashed and your cheeks bumped. It had been so long that you’d lost each other’s rhythm with this. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. You couldn’t have waited any longer.

He pulled away, gawping at you incredulously as he held your face in his hands.

“Doll…does this mean?”

“Let’s go slow,” you whispered, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. The effort you’ve put into rebuilding us from the ground up…for being my friend…for never pushing me…for Lou…but I’m not sure I’m ready to jump into this headfirst…whatever this is…”

He nodded, “of course, anything you want”.

“I’m not sure if I can…fully forgive. But I want to try,” you told him softly as you pressed your forehead to his.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as he sighed. A sigh of long held tension, of relief.

“Thank-you for giving me a chance…I didn’t think you ever would again,” he admitted.

“Yeah…well neither did I,” you laughed,

“What changed your mind?”

“Well…. how you showed up for me with Lou has made me rethink a lot of things. Plus…the money”.

He laughed, “the money? Really? This whole time I just needed to pay you off?”

“No…”, You rolled your eyes, “it was more that you offered, but you didn’t force anything, and you made it clear it was no strings attached. It’s like…you want to help me, but you trust me to make my own decisions and don’t just try and fix it all for me, like you used to. I just…it made me realise how much I’ve missed you. But it’s gotta be different this time…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…like…I want to stay in my apartment. And I want to keep my job,” you said firmly.

He nodded, “yeah. Of course”.

“Maybe I’d move back in with you one day…but I want my space”.

“Okay. You got it,”.

You smiled, “yeah?”

He smiled back at you, the smile that still made you weak at the knees. “Doll? If it means you’re by my side…Of course ‘yeah’. Anything you want. And I have some conditions too…”

“What?” you frowned. “This isn’t exactly a two-way negotiation, Buck…”

“Just…listen. They’re conditions for me. I promise I’m going to trust you entirely, and to communicate you with you properly – not let my emotions get the best of me. I’m a different man to who I was the last time we were together. I know how lucky I am to get this second chance with you. I’m not fucking it up. I'm gonna be...better”.

He spoke earnestly with such conviction that it was almost aggressive. You nodded gently, squeezing his hand. You believed him.

“Alright…well, let’s give it a shot, shall we?”

He grinned, “I can’t believe you’re here…”

“Me neither. But…I’m sorry I’m dripping rainwater all over your car”.

He shrugged. “Fuck the car”.

And then he kissed you again.

Maybe you did believe in happy endings.

THE END

There we have it! I hope you liked where it went. I know some of you didn't think she should ever forgive him and I understand, and I'm sorry if you're disappointed! But in my eyes he had shown her he was willing to change...and she wasn't trying to rush back into anything heavy. Thank you for reading!

If you liked this story, please consider supporting me with my Ko-Fi link 💐

[mattluvr]

dad!matt, a concept.

best read in dark mode ⏾

🫂🫐🧵 part ii — the labour. . .

⟡ ݁₊ . october 22nd. 6am. exactly one day late, and yours and matt’s daughter is on the way.

you’re nervous, naturally, the mere sight of the soaked bedsheets from where your waters broke moments ago making your chest feel tight; it hadn’t really sunk in that you’d actually have to give birth eventually, the pain slowly creeping its way through your body planting reality in place. even more so when the first contraction grips you.

you move towards matt, seeking comfort in his hold as the pain ripples through you. “fuck, i didn’t think it would hurt this bad.” you mutter through gritted teeth, nails clamping onto matt’s shoulders.

he sighs, rubbing the small of your back in soft circles as his eyebrows draw together. he’s concerned, obviously, but the contraction passes quickly, and he seizes the opportunity to grab your hospital bag and pack you up into the car.

after you did your hair and makeup of course.

⟡ ݁₊ . the journey to the hospital is more dangerous than the one from your labour scare a month ago; matt drives faster with only one hand on the wheel, the other clutched in yours as you use it to ground you through each contraction.

they’re more often and closer together, which you know from the endless pregnancy books you read is a telltale sign of your cervix dilating, and you silently start to pray this also means that the rest of pregnancy goes smoothly, complication free.

although, judging by the death grip matt has on your hand, you’re not sure whether you can rule out the prospect of your boyfriend fainting from pure stress.

he pulls into the hospital’s parking lot in a record time of 10 minutes, at least five speeding tickets with his name written all over them, but does not stop to give either of you time to breathe, a whirlwind as he rushes round to your side, hospital bag from the trunk already resting in the crook of his arm.

you laugh, accepting matt’s outstretched hand as you amble towards the entrance to the hospital. “i’ve never seen you move you fast.”

⟡ ݁₊ . you and matt check in at reception, with only one contraction marring your words, and the midwives are quick to find you a room and gown.

you change in the bathroom, trying your very best to ignore how the contractions make you double over each time, the green pattern on the hospital gown making your eyes hurt alongside the baby. you settle down in the bed and your midwife introduces herself to you and matt as she hooks you up to a monitor, the name betty suiting her grey curls and soft smile perfectly.

although you like betty less when she tells you that you’re only 3cm dilated. out of 10. matt swears your expression could curdle milk in that moment and he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“you’ve got to remember that each birth is different, so this could take a long time or a short time.” betty reassures you as she props the pillows up behind you. “you can help the labour pass by moving around. we can bring in a yoga ball if you’d like?”

matt answers for you anyways. “absolutely.”

⟡ ݁₊ . betty comes in throughout the day to check in on you; she brings you the yoga ball at 8am when you finally dilate one centimetre, helping you lower down onto the contraption, with matt by your side the second a sliver of pain crosses your face.

he rubs those soft circles into your back, and you rest your head on his torso when you bounce up and down. which obviously makes matt laugh, a mindless comment about how this is a familiar sight passing his lips, causing you to glare in turn, claiming that he’s making your contractions worse. that shuts him up.

⟡ ݁₊ . at 10am, you’re 6cm dilated, the yoga ball long abandoned in the corner of the room; you now find yourself on all fours on the hospital bed, rocking back and forth slowly. in your head it’s helping with the pain, but the real soother is matt’s constant presence next to you, the simple sound of his breaths calming you.

he’s already made the respective phone calls to his parents and brothers, nick audibly crying from joy over the phone whilst chris whooped and cheered.

“I’M GOING TO HAVE A NIECE BY THE END OF THE DAY!”

“would you calm the fuck down?” matt had hissed. “we’re in a hospital right now.”

“i wish they could see my death glare.” you had piped up, easing your rocking to look over at matt. he offers you an apologetic glance, hushing a see you later to the boys on the phone before hanging up.

you don’t even let matt apologise, babbling out words before your next contraction hits you. “can you call my mom?”

he doesn’t even hesitate. and that’s why you love him.

⟡ ݁₊ . the next hour flies by, a centimetre passing every 20 minutes, marking you at 9cm dilated by 11am and crying from how badly it hurts.

the midwives have moved you back to a flat position, your legs now in stirrups to give them easier access for checkups. matt is crouched down by your side, pushing your hair out of your face as you blubber in agony.

“i don’t think i can do this, matt.”

“are you kidding me?” matt squeezes your hand, his expression soft as he moves forward to peck your forehead. “you are the strongest, prettiest, most powerful girl i know. i love you and this baby, and i know you can do this.”

the tears from that point onwards are mixed with joy, comforted by matt’s presence beside you.

⟡ ݁₊ . at 11:30am, you’re ready to have your baby girl. biologically, maybe not mentally, your chest tightening as betty tells you with a soft smile that you’re now ready to start the process of pushing. but on the other hand, you’ve gone through at least 20 years worth of pain in the space of 5 hours and want nothing more than to get this baby out of you. so you reluctantly agree.

with matt’s hand clutched in yours, you lean forwards into each push, ungodly screams leaving your mouth in an attempt to cancel out the pain gripping you.

“good work, keep going!” betty spurs you on, her scrubs confined by an apron as she waits in anticipation. “the head’s almost there, a few more pushes!”

you exhale, turning to matt who gives you an encouraging nod despite his pale complexion, the boy about three minutes away from fainting. which almost pushes you on, now desperate to get your daughter out into the world before her dad passes out. you sit up on your elbows once more, vision blurred as you start the final stretch.

the head is out before you know it, and with one more weak push, the rest of your daughter is out into the world, sobs spilling out of your mouth as betty brings her up to nestle by you.

her lungs are full, both your cries mixed together in the thick atmosphere of the hospital room, matt’s own tears hidden as he leans over to observe his baby, shaky fingers reaching out to caress her skin.

he moves back to press another kiss to your forehead. “i told you you could do it.”

⟡ ݁₊ . october 22nd, at 11:33am, your daughter arrives into the world, and yours and matt’s lives are about to be changed in the best ways possible.

taglist. . .

( @aelinslegend, @mattslolita, @emely9274, @conspiracy-ash, @chrissturniolossidehoe, @mattbrainrot ) is open!

[kaiser1ns]

#. LIKE A BOY IN LUV

featuring 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff + slight angst + slight suggestive. welcome to the top 10 moments in your relationship with the one and only yamato!

word count :: 3,4 k. he may be a little bit ooc but we all love him anyway

DATING ENDO YAMATO is its own category of experience. You wanted a boyfriend, but instead, you got a loyal, loving, wild man who's always by your side with open arms, gift bags, and tons of surprises because he's unpredictable and you never know what he's thinking and what he's going to do.

"You remind me of Alice in Wonderland." walking in the park enjoying the pleasant night air when he spoke squeezing your hand and making you turn your gaze to him. He was smiling, what he was saying clearly really mattered, even if it came out of nowhere. "And I'm the Chesire Cat. I'm always there for you, even when I'm not." Now that you thought about it, he really did resemble the fantasy character. A grinning cat who teaches Alice "the rules" of Wonderland — him teaching you how the delinquent world works. Sarcastic and playful, he can appear and disappear in any location. He is quick to play jokes on others, he is mad, but unlike the others, he admits it with pride. But despite that he is giving you advice on which path to take during your journey called life, practically acting as your wise guide to the point where you're overly joyous to see him every time.

HIS KISSES ARE ALWAYS surprising and unexpected. One day he will kiss you like there's no tomorrow, fast but smooth because he can't get enough of you, the flavor of your lipstick is long gone when you feel his lips making rough motions, a little biting on your lower lip. His hands can't find a place on your body, but you are still as close as ever. He smiles into every kiss, and you can feel it, you can feel his love.

But there are occasions when he takes his time with you. There is no rush or insatiability, only you and him under the dim lights. Slowly, everything is so slow that it makes you dizzy. He kisses you everywhere starting from your face, and then your lips are doing a slow dance, so captivating that they make you want more of him. Your hands play with his hair and his holding you tight on your waist, giving it a light squeeze once in a while, because this is where you are supposed to be. Every part you are insecure about, he will kiss it. Every beauty mark or scar you don't seem to adore, he will kiss it. He will take all of your insecurities and pain away just by worshiping you — you are a Goddess and should be treated as such. Loving someone, and devoting yourself to them takes time, but for him, time has stopped and only you exist in that moment. Only you are important and he will show how deeply he has fallen for you.

HE IS OBSESSED WITH YOU to the point where there was no way out, and you liked that, seeing someone go out of their way to make sure you were okay. But that didn't mean you didn't give him anything in return. Often your dates were outside, whether in a coffee shop, a mall, or an arcade, and every time he paid, it made you uncomfortable and guilty. There was no need for him to pay for everything, but he insisted that you keep your money. And so you saved every bill and penny to give him the perfect birthday surprise when he gets home. 

You planned this for months, knowing exactly what would make him happiest. dolling yourself up, every detail perfect, every thought just for him. The apartment was dark, lit only by the soft glow of candles and the path of rose petals leading to you. You stood there, holding the cake with his favorite flavor, your lips curved into a smile so genuine and full of love that it lit up the room brighter than any candle.

When he opened the front door, his eyes widened in shock, then softened in pure affection. He followed the path slowly, taking in every petal, every flicker of the candles, but mostly he took in you. “Happy birthday, my love!” you whispered, your voice a melody just for him. For a moment, he was speechless. no words could convey the overwhelming emotions flooding through him. Your home was transformed, but you were the true gift. He couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes — tears of pure joy. He wasn’t Endo Yamato, the prodigy, or the man who carried the world for others. He was just your Yamato, your boyfriend who deserved to be loved so deeply and sincerely.

Without saying a word, he gently set the cake aside and pulled you into a tight embrace, kissing you with all the love he had to offer. “You are the best gift in my life.”

ENDO YAMATO TAKES YOU TO A POOL HALL at least a few times a month and you still haven't learned how to play. But it didn't matter to him as long as he spent time with you and now it was your turn, he was leading you with the points, of course. "Come on, sweets. you can do it." Easy to say, but hard to achieve. You bent down and set the cue, the angle was perfect and you just had to hit the white ball using moderate force. Yes, but no. The white ball went in instead of the colored one and you heard your boyfriend laugh.

"Let me help you then.” He came up behind you, his body touching yours as he placed his hands on top of yours, caging you in his strong arms. You swallowed hard too, not that you weren't used to physical contact with him but it just felt different now. "It's simple, doll. You just have to aim well and hold the pole firmly, but not too hard. And then–” and your ball went into the pocket, but only because he controlled your movements. “You score!” he pulled away from you but you could still feel his warmth. "No matter how hard I try I can't…” but that's okay because no matter if you can or not, he is always the winner, but you won his heart. Fair enough, right?

EVEN A SECOND WHERE HE hasn't seen you, heard you or doesn't know where you are will drive him crazy, and at the moment you were neither picking up your phone nor answering his messages and he was expressing emotions he didn't know he had. Your boyfriend had a lot of trust in you, he never had doubts for a second but when you come home drunk, you don't know where you are, your hair is messy, your makeup is smudged and you can barely walk on those heels. He couldn't help thinking of something he shouldn't. You hiccuped as you tried to take them off and even though he was feeling a thousand new emotions of anger he still helped you up and left you lying on the couch. “Yamato~ I missed you!” if you didn't smell like someone else's perfume he would tell you the same thing. Endo poured water for you and there were pills on the side in case you got sick as he sat next to you but not as close as usual. 

“You were with someone else?” you couldn't even understand the question, you couldn't understand what situation you were in right now, and that smile of his was gone. Rubbing hands over your eyes, you stood up from a lying position. "I was with my girl friends. I told you a few days ago.” 

You groaned, trying to sit up, but the room spun in all directions, the lights seemed too bright, his voice too loud. "Yamato... I told you," you muttered, fumbling with your words. His usual cheerfulness was replaced by something you hadn't seen before—jealousy, frustration, anger? It didn't feel like him. "I was with my friends... and their cousin drove us home. He was just looking out for us. That's it. Nothing else," you repeated, blinking up at him, trying to steady your thoughts through the alcohol haze.

He wasn't convinced. Crossing his arms, tapping his feet, glancing at your phone—dead and useless. "Convenient, isn't it? You come home smelling like some guy, looking like you’ve been out all night doing God knows what, and your phone is dead. How am I supposed to believe you when all I see is the opposite?"

You winced at the accusation, your heart pounding harder now from more than just the headache. "Yamato, you know me. I wouldn’t—"

"Do I?" he interrupted, voice harsher than ever before. "Because right now, I think I judged you too fast from the start." His words cut deeper than anything you'd ever imagined he could say. He never doubted you, never questioned your loyalty, and now? 

Tears blur your vision as exhaustion overwhelms you. "I don't care if you believe me or not right now. Go crash at your place or Takiishi's, clear your head, do whatever. I just... I can't do this now." You tried standing, wobbling slightly as you grabbed the doorknob on the front door, holding yourself steady. “If I'm such a person to you, then why are you still here?”

Endo stared at you, his anger softening into something that looked like regret, but he didn’t need another push. You looked and were sure in what you said, and he started something he couldn't finish. Grabbing his shoes, he stormed out as you slammed the door so hard, that the whole apartment seemed to shake—but nothing compared to the ache in your chest. Crumbled to the floor, sobbing, it was clear: the person you loved most had just hurt you in a way you never imagined

ARGUMENTS WITH ENDO YAMATO are bad, and by that, I mean really bad. You blocked him in every social media app, and his number because you don't want to see or hear him. Even blocked him on Roblox and unfriended him in any game you both played. You just need rest to gain your composure, to focus on your mentality, and not have him suffocating you with his obsessive tendencies. It doesn't get any better when you suddenly receive an email from ilovelnynsomuch202839@gmail.com with the title "i miss you, please don't be mad." with a written roman in the text field saying how sorry he is, how he will make sure not to do that anymore and how much he loves you and if you can open the door because he is freezing. 

You can't believe this man and how he will do everything to be with you. Your eyes widen as you go to the window of your apartment and see him there, wearing only a top and jeans, for all his outer garments are in your wardrobe, and you are wearing one, despite saying you hate him. But he will withstand the cold, he always withstands absolutely anything, and to be away from you seemed like torture. You felt another vibration from your phone and it was him again, sending you another email. "i know you see me and i'll sit here as long as it takes♡"

He has no idea the way he makes you feel, you still let him in your heart, and in your home after two hours of him sitting on the bench and when you go to open the door for him, he is hugging you tight, he will never let you go, never make you mad again.

THE TYPE OF BOYFRIEND WHO DOES TIKTOK TRENDS with you, will it be dancing, putting a finger down, or when his whole face is covered in red prints from your lips and lipstick. Almost everything is done. He liked the new trend, especially the song, and part that was on every edit that came out on the for you page. According to him, it perfectly described your relationship and how not to take a video of you fixing yourself in the bathroom mirror putting on some make-up while he was behind you, phone in hand, and the music playing.

“Back to the kitty, 'cause she's kinda pretty. I couldn't stop lookin’ at her ta-ta-ta…” he panned the camera and you saw his reflection moving the phone to your chest and then to your face after you were done with the lipstick and he smiled in the mirror. “Face.” You didn't pay much attention to him, not when you were doing the same thing when there was trendy couple stuff. Flipping the front camera around and quickly set up the phone on the counter as he then quickly walked behind you again and wrapped his arms around your waist, his tattoos on full display as your hands were on his.

“Me and cat mama rolled into the distant fog,” he was looking straight into the mirror where your eyes met and he just smirked, kissing your neck and then looking down at the camera, gently squeezing your torso before the last line came out from the phone.

“Little did she know I'ma nasty dog.” his hands went up to grab your chin and turn your face to his so he could kiss you. The clip was done and you didn't know how many times the audio would repeat, but he wasn't done at all. He held you tight, and he didn't stop, and you were out of breath but your hands went to his chest and pushed him to get the hint. You both couldn't catch your breath because you just had a little make-out session in the bathroom. He went to turn the phone off before saving the video and looking back at you. “Want to ditch the others and continue in the be–?” 

“Yes.” you didn't have to think so much, you were categorical and so was he. Noroshi can have fun themselves fighting people left and right while your boyfriend will show you a different type of fun.

BEING HIS GIRLFRIEND MEANT THAT you are used to hanging out with Takiishi Chika a lot too. You were at the mall, purchase after purchase but you two didn't hold any bags, Endo held everything, and even when you wanted to get something he insisted that a princess like you should hold nothing but a pretty smile on her face. The redhead didn't even look back, he didn't care but you did. “Chika, stop." for some reason he listened to you, maybe it was because you had known each other since childhood and had a great influence on him. It might not matter that much to him, but thanks to him, you met Endo and more or less he had to be nice to him. 

You went to get some bags from Endo, giving them to Takiishi who hadn't reached his hand out at all. At first, the two of you made eye contact, your eyes more insistent than his as he looked away, losing this fight as he took the bags from your hands and you smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Chika.” Turning to your boyfriend who was stunned at how you got none other than Takiishi Chika to carry his own shopping bags. He blushed and laughed a little at this heroic deed of yours. He didn't know how you even did it, how you had such a huge influence over the two of them, especially him. One of his hands was now free and you grabbed it as you started to walk forward. “What a woman you are. Please, teach me your ways.”

HIM HAVING TATTOOS MEANS ONLY ONE THING and that is you can turn him into a coloring book. Sitting on his lap, his arms outstretched and you were creating art – pink, purple, blue, whatever markers and eye shadows were on his buffy arms. You were very focused on making his scorpion tattoo shine, literally because you put pink glitter on it and drew a cute little face. "My nose itches." looking up at the ceiling, wiggling his nose as you carefully made a ribbon on the scorpion's tail, "You have to wait, baby." Of course, he had to wait for the good things, and art is a slow and painstaking process in which the artist shows and expresses their emotions in the paintings. He let out a soft sigh, knowing he had no choice but to endure it if he wanted to keep you happy. His body was a canvas that you could look at all day, it was so intoxicating, he had chosen interesting designs, and how he arranged them ... just beautiful.

“Isn’t it the palette you just bought?” The compass tattoo on his right hand now gleamed with bright colors, and the flames were reddish and fiery, as they reflected your burning love for him. “Yes. Now let me focus, please.” You smiled as you turned the star on his middle finger into a vibrant one with cute eyes, straight out of Super Mario. For the grand finale, you applied some eye shadow to the infinity symbol tattoo on his neck, turning it into a delicate pink bow. "Go look at yourself in the mirror!" you quickly got up from his lap, gently taking his hand with yours so as not to smudge anything.

"It's like a unicorn threw up on me," he grinned, running a finger over his colorful scorpion. He turned slightly to the side to see his back, the Frank tattoo he had with Takiishi was colored in pretty blue hues. "Cute." He gave you a quick peck. Maybe he should let you do this more often—it definitely made you happy.

ENDO YAMATO LOVED TO ANNOY YOU as much as he loved to make you happy. No matter where or when he nagged at you every second you ignored him – maybe because you wanted to take a nap on this lovely afternoon after a stressful and busy day. To have some peace and quiet, but no, someone decided to give you light pokes on the butt, making you let out a heavy sigh. You were almost close to drifting off into the world of dreams, you were so snuggly wrapped up in the blanket, cuddling with the stuffed toy, until someone named Endo Yamato decided it was a good idea to wake you up. "Stop it. Either go to sleep or go annoy Chika." But the touches didn't stop even when you turned on your other side, you mumbled something, it sounded a little like you were screaming into your pillow. You stood up angrily and threw the stuffed toy and pillow at him. "Leave me alone!"

"It will never happen, not even in your dreams." it was your last drop of patience, the last string you could pull as you pushed him off the bed with all your might and he fell on the ground with a loud thud, "Stay down in Hell." Wrapping yourself in the blanket again, and though your pillow was on the ground with him, his was still on the bed, and by the time you placed it under your head, Endo, with all his weight and insolence, lay on top of you. You started banging your hand on the mattress like a time-out because you couldn't breathe. He rose as you gasped and quickly flipped him over, straddling him with your legs as he held your wrists. “Yamato, I will kill you in every possible way.” "Don't, I'm going to like it." that nasty lovely smile on his dumb-looking handsome face, you just wanted to wipe it off and when you realized the position you were in, your nerves just couldn't take it. How can he annoy you and want extra attention only when you are sleepy? You immediately stood up but his arms pulled you down laying on his chest and his heart was beating like crazy because he had fallen madly for you…or in this case, you fell for him. Your breathing started to calm, your eyes closing, his fingers playing with your hair making you relax as much as possible "I love you, you know…" he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and leaving a kiss on your forehead. "I know."

Snuggling into him, but how much more as you were already a part of him, forever and always. "But you'll still be sleeping on the couch." he only hummed in response, slowly drifting to sleep but he knew your love was better than any dream because you were his entire world, the one that made him, the hopeless boy, experience something real.

taglist :: @maruflix @heartkaji @17020 @stunie @kazuhaiku @meidiary @nyxypoo @mydream-synopsis @slerixx

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[surelynotaspider]

Gaining Interest

Al-Haitham x gn!reader

-> IN WHICH Al-Haitham realises he fucked up but you don't care anymore.

-> Wordcount: ~1,3k

Masterlist

Part 1

Al-Haitham left Kaveh's room as soon as the news sickered through. His roommate must have made a sick joke, yeah that's right. He's lying. You're still in Sumeru. You're still by his side. You wouldn't leave. Surely.

He kept telling himself the same lies and delusions for days and days without an end. He still set the table for two. Cooked for two. Made coffee in the morning for two. And all of that was not for Kaveh. But you never came back. Maybe you never will.

Al-Haitham's days turned monotone and lifeless. You're not there to cheer him up and his roommate keeps reminding him how he fucked up.

And to make things worse, every little thing reminds him of you.

The keys with the keychain that you made yourself for him on your first anniversary, saying it's nothing special but it's a reference to his favourite book that no one cares about.

Except you.

Another lonely day passed and Al-Haitham fell asleep only to experience the most restless sleep he will have in his entire life. With you by his side, that would never happen.

You woke up to the best sleep you had in your entire life. The bright sun shined through your window and the lively chatter from the locals outside of your home. Being away from Sumeru was like heaven on earth.

The atmosphere was completely different. Your previous lonely and cold days were filled with warmth and laughter. You now have a new, better life with friends, a good job and no one that gives no regard to your feelings. It lifted a huge load off your shoulders and you felt like you could finally breathe.

Saying that you didn't love Al-Haitham anymore is a lie and you know it. But you also know that it's okay and you're willing to move on. Turn the page and start a chapter life.

Without him.

After a month, Al-Haitham couldn't handle it anymore. He needed you back. He worked night and day to take enough time off to meet you. He has to convince you to come back.

Quickly checking if he had packed everything, he left his house. It's been so long since he took time off for vacation or spending time with his loved ones.

The journey to Liyue flew by fast. To say Al-Haitham was nervous was an understatement. He was anxious, indecisive and always on the edge. His knee was always moving up and down, and his hands were constantly brushing through his hair and what's even worse, he didn't know what to say to you.

An apology is a given. How can he not? But what's next? A declaration of love? Empty Promises? He doesn't know. This situation is completely new to him. You're his first and last girlfriend.

Al-Haitham is a genius. He graduated at the top of his class. His bookshelf is filled with books of all kinds of knowledge. From botanics to physics to cooking. He has it all. Christ, he's the Acting Grand Sage. Currently the highest position in Sumeru.

He can speak 20 languages, and love is not one of them.

Al-Haitham's heart almost stopped when he spotted you.

You were sitting with your new friends and you were laughing. He hasn't heard that sound in so long. He can't even remember when he last did.

Oh, is that how much he neglected you? When was the last time your eyes were shining so bright? When did you last laugh with him? What about a smile? He can't remember. He can't remember. How can he not remember?

Why is it that he can recall every type of poisonous plant and every so slight weakness of monsters, but as soon as it's about you everything is blank?

How much did you have to suffer for you to finally leave? It's a miracle you stayed as long as you did.

Hours passed and he did not move from his spot. He has been waiting for you to stand up and say your goodbyes. Not in a creepy way, no. He just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.

Which was right now.

"[Name]."

You stopped in your tracks. Your eyes widened. Why was he here? Did you forget something at his house? Did you owe him some money? No, that can't be.

Your brain was trying to come up with reasons why he was here but with no luck.

You took a deep breath and turned around.

"What are you doing here?" Your mood was the complete opposite of when you were with your friends. You kept your distance and your gaze was filled with coldness, not the usual happiness when you were with him.

"I wanted to apologise.

"I apologise for what I did. No words can express how guilty I feel for ignoring and neglecting you for months without an end.

"Work has kept me too busy to even notice how you're feeling. I prioritised it over our relationship and it pains me to realise it only now. I know that's no excuse, but I hope you can forgive me, [Name]."

"Al-Haitham." You looked him in the eyes. "You're the Acting Grand Sage. Nothing will change and we both know it." He looked nervous, playing with his keychains. "I will do better, I promise! I will be home for dinner. I will not miss any more dates or anniversaries and I will take time off to spend time with you monthly- no, weekly!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't go back. I have new friends here. I'm happy."

He still wasn't letting it go. "But you said you're only staying for 6 months-" "They offered me a permanent position." You interrupted him. "I accepted."

Silence followed. Your inner conflict is fought between keeping it or saying something.

It died down as soon as Al-Haitham started to talk again.

"I need you." He finally said and you've never seen him so devastated and conflicted than now. The Al-Haitham you knew was rational and always prepared. Never desperate, never needy.

However, the Al-Haitham in front of you was the complete opposite. The desperation was clearly written in his eyes. His body never stood still, showing you he was anxious, awaiting your response.

You were contemplating whether to go back or not. You knew you would never be truly happy by his side. Maybe that's why you felt so guilty for saying the next two words.

"I don't."

The sound of a door closing filled the house. Back in Sumeru, he is.

Without you.

Al-Haitham looked defeated. He knows he can't convince you no matter what he says and it hurts. It hurts so much. Knowing that you were right in front of him but yet miles away made his heart painfully ache.

He always thought of himself as a rational, unwavering man. His emotions never get the best of him. Anger, tears and frustration were useless and unnecessary to him. Why cry if you can figure out a solution to the problem?

Oh, but what if you can't find a solution to the problem? What's the next step? What were you supposed to do now? He didn't know, so he cried, probably for the first time in years. Ugly, hot tears ran down his face and he didn't even care to wipe them away.

He deserved it for what he's done to you and it will haunt him in his dreams for years if not forever. Words cannot express his regrets and remorse and actions can't either. He swore to himself to never let this happen again. Next time he will not put work above you. Next time he will listen to every little thing you say. Whether it's about your new hobby or the bug you saw on your way home. And next time he will appreciate your presence so much more.

But deep in his subconsciousness, he knew.

There will never be a next time.

Fin

Not proofread

Tag List:

@the-real-fandom-person @xiaosonlybeloved

[slayfics]

more jealous muichirou eheheh

Muichiro gets jealous when you tend to another demon slayer.

You and Muichiro arrived on the scene where some lower ranks were struggling with a demon. It didn’t take you both long to rid the area of demons, now you two were assessing the injuries of the lower ranks.

One lower rank in particular was giving you some difficulty.

“I COULD HAVE TAKEN THAT DEMON DOWN ON MY OWN!” Insouke yelled at you, as you grabbed his arm to assess his wound.

“Oh shut up, let me see your arm!” You yelled back wrestling the demon slayer. “You’re going to make it worse if you keep resisting!”

“THIS AIN’T NOTHING!! HARDLY A SCRATCH!” Inosuke said, continuing to be difficult.

Your raising voice captured Muichiro’s attention as he turned around to see what the commotion was. He glanced at you then back at the lower rank he was helping, not worried about your abilities to handle Inosuke.

“You’re bleeding all over the place, stop moving! Here take this and be still!” You said, offering Inosuke a rice ball while you tended to his injury.

Immediately the demon slayer stopped being so difficult as he pushed his mask up and focused on munching on the rice ball.

“Good job, thank you Inosuke,” you said and began to get to work wrapping his arm. “Did you hit your head at all?”

“I dunno-“ he said in between bites.

You let out a sigh, “Follow my finger.” You demanded as you moved your finger from side to side watching Inosuke’s eyes for a sign of a concussion.

He had no trouble following your movements indicating he was most likely ok. You hadn’t really been this close to the demon slayer with his mask off and it was the first time you noticed the deep emerald green of his eyes.

“I like your eyes,” you said, placing your finger down.

It was at your compliment that Muichiro turned around again. You were still helping Inosuke? Why are you taking so long with him?

“Thanks. Hey, do you have another one of those rice balls?” Inosuke asked, swallowing the last of the one you gave him and placing his mask back on.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle at the demon slayer's one-track mind.

“Is there a complication here?” Muichiro asked, appearing behind you suddenly causing you to jump.

“Nope, just finished wrapping his injuries,” you said, turning to meet Muichiro’s gaze. You were startled by the look in his eyes. His voice was his normal calm demeanor but his eyes had a hint of something else in them.

Muichiro stared back at you and you stared back at him for what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Um ok-“ you finally said, breaking the silence. “Is there something wrong?” You asked him.

“No. I’m waiting for you to leave this demon slayer,” Muichiro stated matter of factly. It was then you realized what was going on. Muichiro was jealous.

“Ok, well I think you’re fine Inosuke, but ask Aoi to check on you once you get back. This isn’t my specialty.” You said to Inosuke as you got up. “Oh- and you’re doing amazing by the way. Great job today.” You said patting Inosuke on the top of his mask, flashing Muichiro a glare then walking away.

Muichiro's face froze in shock. Were you purposely antagonizing him?

“Your hair is unkempt and it smells as though you need a bath,” Muichiro said to Inosuke as he left to follow after you.

Inosuke would have been riled up by Muichiro’s words if he wasn’t still frozen from your praise.

You began to make the journey back with Muichiro right behind you.

“You know- if you’re so jealous you could get hurt on a mission every now and then and I’d help you.” You said to Muichiro.

“Jealous?” He scoffed.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You were clearly jealous of me tending to Inosuke,” you said.

“I would never be jealous of you helping out a fellow demon slayer!” He responded back.

“Then what the hell was that about?” You asked, feeling frustrated at his denial of emotions.

Again you both froze and were left in a staring contest. It lasted even longer than the first time until you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Forget it Tokito, I know you’ll never tell me how you really feel.” You said beginning to continue walking.

“… you always said you liked my eyes," Muichiro mumbled, beginning to follow you again.

You felt your heart sting at his words and sudden understanding. He wasn’t jealous of you helping Inosuke but of your compliment to him.

“Tokito,” you said, turning around to face him once more. “I don’t like your eyes. I love your eyes.”

Muichiro let a slight smile spread across his lips.

[justabigassnerd]

New Relationships

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Word count - 13.2K

Warnings - angst, arguing, swearing, fluff

Summary - you meet someone new, and while at first you don't get on... you soon change your tune

A/N - it's time for the return of Hangman Junior y'all! it's certainly been a long time coming and it's been so fun getting back into this universe! I do apologise if this fic isn't great I was trying my best lol. but I hope y'all enjoy (and don't worry I'm planning a follow up fic that'll go more into the stuff that happened at the end). as per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

Growing up, Javy had always been a staple in your life. He was your dad’s best friend and he had played a huge part in your upbringing. You had even regularly spent nights at Javy’s house when your dad was away. With all the time you had spent with Javy, you thought you knew him better than most.

But you didn’t know that he had concealed a secret no one other than Jake knew about.

One day while Bradley was up in the air, training some of the newest recruits that had joined Top Gun, Jake was lounging in the rec room, listening to all the conversations happening up in the air on the small radio. Javy had been in the room but had to step out of the room when his phone began to ring.

“You got this, Bradley,” Jake muttered with a small smile as he listened to his husband explaining what flight exercise he and the other recruits would be doing. Jake had loved seeing how much Bradley’s confidence had grown since the uranium mission. He had stopped hesitating so much up in the air and had truly become a fighter pilot others would fear when in a dogfight.

As Jake listens carefully to the radio, chuckling to himself when he hears the cocky remarks from the new trainees who reminded him of himself, Javy comes back into the rec room, visibly shaken as he moves to sit down, collapsing on the couch opposite Jake who is instantly concerned about his best friend.

“Whoa, Coyote, what’s up man?” Jake asks worriedly, now distracted from listening to the radio and giving his best friend his full attention.

“I just got a call from CPS. Iris has been caught drunk and high in her house. They’re removing Mateo from her care and wanting him to move in with me.” Javy explains, propping his elbows on his lap and burying his face in his hands as he lets out a sigh.

“She what?” Jake asks, eyes wide in shock as he processes what Javy has just said to him.

“Apparently some teachers at school were concerned about Mateo and called CPS to investigate the house and they found Iris high as a kite with some random guy in the house while Mateo was nowhere to be found and Iris sure as hell had no idea where he was.” Javy elaborates, dropping his hands and looking at Jake who softens in sympathy for his best friend, getting up from where he was sitting and moving to sit next to Javy.

“Well, he’s gotta come out here, right? He shouldn’t be shoved into the system.” Jake says as if it was the most obvious answer.

“I know. They’ve said they want to call again later to figure out when will be best for him to fly out here. I just don’t know how to tell anyone about this.” Javy says quietly as he glances over at Jake, his eyes displaying every ounce of emotion he is feeling.

Javy had never been as open about his private life. He told the Daggers bits and pieces but he had closely guarded secrets that only Jake knew about. The biggest one of those secrets is his son Mateo.

Mateo was not much younger than you, only a few months give or take. Javy had been in college and met a pretty girl at a party. The alcohol in his system definitely helped aid the decision he made to sleep with her that night. A couple of weeks down the line, Iris discovered that she was pregnant and both she and Javy had made the joint decision to keep and raise their baby together as they continued their college journey. By the time they graduated, Mateo had been born and was a couple of months old. Iris was well aware of Javy’s intentions to join the Naval Academy and train to become an aviator but just as he began his training, they had a huge argument which led to Iris moving away and taking Mateo with her. It broke Javy’s heart to watch her take his son and leave, so much so that he opted to keep Mateo’s entire existence a secret to hide his heartbreak from everyone around him. After meeting Jake and discovering that Jake had a daughter of his own, he found himself inclined to open up about his son but made sure that Jake promised to keep this information a secret. And true to his word, Jake kept it a secret, even from Bradley and from you.

Javy had always made attempts to visit Mateo as he grew up. Every Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthday he’d travel to Utah in an attempt to spend some time with his son. Yet no matter how much he tried, Iris would refuse to let him spend a decent amount of time with Mateo, and he was never allowed to invite Mateo to spend time with him once he settled in Miramar. Javy just couldn’t make any sense of it. Half the time he was sure she didn’t care for their son but the moment Javy would mention visiting or paying for a flight so that Mateo could come to Miramar, she’d start claiming that she didn’t want her son to get hurt by Javy, seemingly ignoring the amount of effort Javy was willing to put in just for a short visit.

“Hey, we’ll figure it out together, okay? They already love y/n, so I can’t imagine any reason why they’d not love Mateo too.” Jake’s gentle voice shakes Javy from his thoughts, causing him to look over at Jake and offer him a soft smile.

“I don’t feel like I’m prepared for this,” Javy whispers, worry in his voice as Jake offers his friend a supportive smile moving to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Nothing could prepare you for this, but I’m going to help. Go and tell Maverick you’ve had a family emergency and that you need to head home, he’ll understand. Then go home and check out your spare room, text me a list of things you think you’ll need for the room for when Mateo arrives. And while you call CPS to organise Mateo moving out here, I’ll run by the store and then meet you at your house.” Jake says, explaining his thought-out plan as Javy nods, inhaling sharply before standing up and moving to exit the room. Upon realising that Jake wasn’t following him, Javy turned to look over at Jake.

“Are you not coming?” He asks, confused as to why Jake wasn’t coming when he had made it clear that he intended to join him.

“I’ll come along later. Bradley’s awful at checking his phone at work so I need to tell him what I’m doing face to face otherwise he’ll damn near have an aneurysm when he realises I’m not around. Just make sure Maverick knows I’ll be leaving too.” Jake says with a chuckle, waving his hand to dismiss Javy who nods before rushing out of the rec room in search of Maverick.

When Bradley had landed, Jake had rushed out to meet him on the tarmac, with Bradley beaming as Jake approached.

“It’s not often my husband meets me out on the tarmac. What’s up?” Bradley says as the two reach each other.

“Coyote’s had a last-minute family emergency so I’ve offered to help him out. I just wanted to let you know before I went off to help. I don’t need you panicking when you can’t find me.” Jake explains, watching as Bradley’s smile fades slightly in worry.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, concerned about Javy.

“I’ll explain everything when we’re both home, okay? I promise.” Jake says, keeping a small smile on his face to try to keep Bradley from worrying too much about what could be happening.

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” Bradley says with a sigh before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Jake’s lips to bid him a silent goodbye. After they break apart, Jake whispers a quiet goodbye before backing away and heading back into the building to gather up his things before heading out to his truck so he can head to the nearest store.

As Jake pulls into a parking spot, his phone buzzes with a message from Javy consisting of a list of things he needs Jake to buy in anticipation of Mateo’s arrival. As Jake enters the store, he begins to come up with a game plan to get in and out in as little time as possible so he can get back to Javy as quickly as possible. Jake went up and down each aisle, grabbing the things Javy needed, doing his best to pick things he thought a teenage boy would like. Jake picked up a couple of various plain coloured covers for the spare bed in Javy’s spare room, he grabbed some snacks he thought Mateo might like to try and make everything seem a little more homely. When Jake had finished shopping, he loaded all the bags into the backseats of his truck before getting behind the wheel and driving to Javy’s house.

Upon arriving at Javy’s house, he unloads the shopping and approaches the front door, knocking on the wooden door and waiting patiently for Javy to let him in.

“Thank you for doing this,” Javy says gratefully the moment he opens the door and sees Jake on the other side, stepping aside to allow him into the house.

“It’s no problem,” Jake says with a friendly smile as he follows Javy into the living room, both men unpacking the bags and sorting things while making quiet conversation.

“How much do I owe you?” Javy asks, reaching for the receipt he found at the bottom of one of the bags, stopping only when Jake snatches the piece of paper from the bag before Javy can reach it himself.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Jake says, beginning to fold the receipt up and holding it away from Javy as he attempts to reach out for it.

“Come on, man. You just went to the store and spent however much money on stuff for my son when you didn’t have to. I owe you.” Javy says, letting out a frustrated huff when Jake continues to hold the receipt out of reach and eventually tucking it into his pocket to conceal it from Javy as he softens.

“You’ll never owe me anything. You’ve looked after y/n more times than I can count. The least I can do is help you organise everything for when Mateo arrives.” Jake says gently, a supportive smile on his face as Javy smiles back, overwhelmed with gratefulness towards his friend.

“We should probably take all this stuff upstairs and start setting up his room. I called CPS and they told me he’d be flying out within the next couple of days, they’re just in the process of getting flights and sorting out everything he wants to bring with him.” Javy explains as the two men begin to head upstairs with some of the newly bought items.

“Whenever he flies out, I’m more than happy to help however you want me to. Give me a call and I’ll be there.” Jake promises as they reach the spare room, entering the room as Javy smiles appreciatively.

“Thank you, Jake,” Javy says, as he approaches the bed both men beginning to strip the old bedding off and replace it with the new things Jake had bought.

“Maybe when Mateo arrives you can take him to Home Depot or something and do up this room with colours and decorations that he’d want. That might help him settle in a little better.” Jake suggests as he puts a new cover on one of the pillows, fluffing it as he goes.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll offer it to him as an option when he arrives. I’ve taken a few days off work to make sure everything’s ready and to help Mateo settle in.” Javy says as he unfolds the new bedspread.

“Good plan. Having one-on-one time with you will surely help him settle in.” Jake agrees, taking the other half of the bedspread and helping Javy make the bed.

“Obviously I have to enrol him at a high school, y/n’s school should take him, right?” Javy asks, looking over at Jake who nods.

“They’ll be considerate of your circumstances I’m sure. They’re pretty used to accepting new students during the year. I’ll vouch for you if needed.” Jake says, confident that your high school would accept Mateo with little to no questions asked. The two men continue to finish setting up the room, making sure it’s clean and tidy in anticipation of Mateo’s upcoming arrival.

“Hey, maybe we could have a get-together when Mateo’s settled? Maybe a barbeque on the beach or something so he can get to know the Daggers.” Javy proposes, receiving an enthusiastic nod from Jake.

“That sounds good. It’ll give him a chance to get to know y/n as well before he’s tossed into school. He can at least then know one person when he starts school.” Jake says in agreement, focusing on making sure everything looks neat. When they finished preparing the room, they headed downstairs and Jake helped Javy organise the newly bought snacks, arranging them neatly in a basket to act as a warm welcome. Once everything is prepared, Javy walks Jake to the front door, thanking him with a large hug.

“I have no idea how to thank you, Jake.” Javy mumbles as the two men embrace.

“You don’t need to. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count. It’s my turn to be there for you.” Jake says softly, pulling away from the hug and squeezing Javy’s shoulder slightly with a supportive smile before they both bid each other goodbye and Jake makes his way out to his truck to head home.

When Jake gets home, he unlocks the door and is greeted by an enthusiastic Moose who bounds around Jake’s feet, whining for attention until Jake begins to pet him. After Moose begins to quiet down, Jake hears footsteps approaching and looks up to see Bradley entering the hall. Jake hadn’t anticipated Bradley being home already but he also knew he hadn’t been keeping track of time while at Javy’s.

“Hey,” Jake says softly, skirting around Moose and approaching Bradley to press a soft kiss on his lips.

“Hey. How’s Coyote?” Bradley asks after pulling away from the kiss, immediately wanting to know what was up and whether Javy is okay.

“Come on, let’s sit down and I’ll tell you everything. y/n’s out isn’t she?” Jake says, following Bradley into the living room with Moose on their heels, both men settling down on the couch as Moose hops up alongside them, laying his head in Jake’s lap.

“y/n said she was going to Lily’s house after school today, she won’t be back for a while I know she’s excited to see her again after so long,” Bradley confirms, remembering how you had told him that your friend Lily had been someone you knew when you were younger and had moved away from due to Jake’s job, as he focuses solely on Jake as he waits patiently for an explanation. As Jake talks, Bradley has his full attention on him, hanging on to his every word. He was shocked at the revelation that Javy had a son, but he could also understand why he had kept it a secret. After all, he’d kept his broken relationship with Maverick a secret from everyone when they all came back to Top Gun. Once Jake has finished talking, Bradley nods slightly in understanding.

“I get why Javy kept it a secret from everyone. And I’m more than willing to help out in any way I can when Mateo moves here. I’m sure y/n will be the same.” Bradley says, smiling supportively at Jake who nods.

“We’re trying to figure out when will be the best time to tell y/n. She’s known Javy all her life and this is a big piece of information to find out days away from Mateo’s arrival.” Jake explains, guilt written all over his face as he talks.

“Hey, she’ll understand. It might take a little while to come to terms with it but she’ll be there for Javy when it counts.” Bradley says reassuringly, reaching to squeeze Jake’s hand, both men smiling softly at the comfort of the contact.

By Friday afternoon, Mateo was due to fly to San Diego, Javy, Jake, and Bradley had come to the conclusion that it would be best that you knew about Mateo before he arrived so you’d have time to process the news.

“Dad, Uncle Javy is here!” You call through the house, after opening the door, smiling at Javy as Moose nudges the man, desperate for attention.

“Hey, Kit-Kat.” Javy greets, reaching out to ruffle your hair as you lightly grumble, swatting at his hand as he enters the house. Javy follows you into the living room where Jake and Bradley are just walking through the living room from the kitchen to meet Javy, all of the men smiling as they greet each other.

“Let’s sit down, shall we?” Bradley says, gesturing towards the couch as you sit down on the couch, your dads sitting on either side of you while Javy opts to sit on the armchair.

“What did you guys need to talk about? It’s not bad is it?” You ask worriedly, eyes flicking between each man as if you could tell what they might talk about judging by their reactions.

“It’s not bad, promise,” Jake says softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his side to comfort you.

“Well, what is it then?” You ask, looking over at Javy who sighs lightly, resting his arms on his legs and squeezing his hands together as he prepares himself to speak.

“This might be a shock to hear but… I have a son.” Javy says quickly, looking up at you as your eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of what you just heard.

“What? Since when?” You ask, confused at the news.

“Since before I met your dad. We had Mateo while I was in my last year of college, and just as I was preparing to go to the Naval Academy, his mother and I got into a pretty nasty argument to the point she took Mateo and left. I tried my best to visit him on holidays or just whenever I could but let’s just say Iris wasn’t very welcoming. But long story short, Iris has been caught being an inappropriate guardian for Mateo and I’ve offered to be his guardian. He’s flying out here tomorrow.” Javy explains, studying your reaction carefully as you finally look at him.

“Why didn’t I know?” You ask quietly. Deep down you knew it was unreasonable to ask, but you had known Javy for so long that you were shocked that you had never known.

“How long have you two known?” You ask, turning on Jake and Bradley who exchange sad glances.

“I’ve known since Javy and I became friends. Bradley only found out a couple of days ago.” Jake explains softly, his heart breaking at the look on your face.

“So you said he’s flying out tomorrow?” You ask, steeling your expression and turning back to Javy who nods.

“Yeah, we were thinking on Sunday we’d have a barbeque or something on the beach as a welcome party so he could get to know everyone.” Javy then says, continuing to watch your reactions as you nod, your mood significantly dampened even as you try to hide it.

“That sounds like a good idea.” You say, a forced smile on your face as you nod before getting to your feet and heading up to your room with a quiet goodbye. The moment you’re out of the room, Javy’s head drops, a sigh escaping his lips.

“She hates me,” Javy says quietly, his heart hurting that he had upset you.

“She doesn’t hate you. It’s just a big piece of news to process. I bet you any money that by Sunday she’ll have come around. She just needs a little bit of time.” Jake assures Javy softly, both he and Bradley watching Javy carefully as he nods quietly.

“I should probably head home. Mateo flies in pretty early tomorrow and I want to make sure everything’s all ready for him. Some stuff has already been shipped over so I want to make sure things are organised.” Javy says, lifting his head and rising to his feet, Jake and Bradley mirroring his actions.

“Do you need any help with anything?” Bradley asks, watching Javy carefully as he shakes his head.

“No. Thank you, though. It’s just the last few things I need to sort out before tomorrow. Then we’ll meet up on Sunday, okay?” Javy says before he heads over to the door, both men following behind him.

“We’ll see you on Sunday. Give us a call if you need anything.” Jake says, both he and Bradley bidding Javy goodbye with friendly hugs, watching him make his way down the driveway and walk in the direction of his house with sad smiles on their faces, only hoping that you’d processed the news and be back to normal, and that you’d get on with Mateo when he arrived.

The next day, you decided to head down to the beach, wanting to take advantage of the sunny weather so you could spend time with Lily. You had been overjoyed when she walked into your classroom, indicating that she had moved to San Diego and after a catch-up, the two of you were acting like you’d never been apart.

“So, beach day?” Lily asks, getting in the passenger seat of your car, your Honda Fit had been fixed up after the rear ending accident and you were back to driving around like nothing had happened.

“Beach day.” You confirm with a smile, driving off from where you had parked just outside Lily’s house to pick her up.

“It’s definitely the perfect day to tan. Ooh, and I bet there will be some hot guys there too.” Lily grins, glancing over at you as you roll your eyes.

“Seriously? Is that all you care about? Boys?” You tease, your focus never shifting from the road as you drive, the journey to the beach one you had memorised quickly and easily.

“I mean it’s the weekend. Everyone will want to be at the beach over the weekend.” Lily then says, wiggling her eyebrows as you sigh with a laugh. When you find a place to park, you and Lily get out of your car, grab your beach gear and head down to the beach.

The two of you lounge on beach towels, chatting to each other, continuing to catch each other up on what you have missed in each other’s lives. You even dared to head into the ocean and splash around before heading to one of the nearby diners to have something to eat. After eating you and Lily head back outside to spend a couple more hours sunbathing before heading home.

When the two of you finally called it quits and decided to head home after spending a good few hours at the beach, you and Lily began to make your way back to your car, smiles on your faces as you talked.

“So, did you have a good time?” You query as the two of you near the small parking lot.

“The best. The beach is gorgeous, and there were loads of cute guys.” Lily gushes, clinging to your arm as you laugh.

“Glad you were impressed.” You say as you roll your eyes, already digging into your bag to grab your car keys.

“I’m easily impressed and that hasn’t changed, okay?” Lily giggles as the two of you round the corner to enter the parking lot a roar of a motorbike engine entering the parking lot, stopping dead in front of your car, making your jaw drop slightly when they don’t move, even when you make it obvious that you needed to get out.

“Hey, Asshat! I need to get out so you need to move.” You demand firmly as the biker turns their head to look at you lifting their hands to pull off their helmet.

“I’m sorry, Darling. Did you say something?” The mystery biker says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he places his helmet in front of him, resting his arms on it and leaning forward slightly.

“I did, Asshat. You’re parked right in front of my car and I need to get out. There are spots for motorbikes right over there.” You say firmly, glaring at the biker, studying him as he scoffs. He had dark skin, brown eyes, and short-cropped hair on the sides as the hair on top was beginning to grow out, the tight curls becoming obvious. You honestly might’ve found him attractive had he not been a massive asshole.

“It’s a free country is it not?” He then says, raising an eyebrow as he smirks at how easily you were getting riled up.

“Not when it comes to blocking me in. Just move your bike five feet to the right so I can get out. It’s hardly a big deal.” You say, exasperated by his attitude.

“I don’t know, Darling. I’m quite happy parking my bike here. If you were a good driver you could get around me.” He says, patting his helmet lightly, his smirk widening when he sees you huff. You then see Lily step forward to try to calm things down but you hold a hand up to stop her before focusing back on the guy in front of you.

“This is literally the quietest parking lot, find any spot that’s not you parking directly in front of my car and blocking me in.” You say, your frustration growing as he refuses to move.

“What’s in it for me?” He says teasingly, making you clench your jaw in an attempt to hold yourself back from punching him in the face.

“What’s in it for you? I won’t punch you in the face, how about that?” You offer, raising an eyebrow as you fold your arms across your chest.

“Threatening assault? Didn’t know you had that in you, Darling.” The biker grins, unfazed by your threats.

“Will you stop calling me that?” You say, your eyes narrowing as you glare at him, your anger continuing to bubble within you.

“What, you don’t like it when I call you Darling? I’m just trying to be nice.” He says with a light shrug, his clear mocking of you driving you more insane.

“Last chance, Asshat. Move the bike. We just want to leave, you can have the spot, or you can park where you are right now again. Frankly, I don’t care, just let us out.” You say, your patience wearing incredibly thin as you continue to glare, neither you nor the biker before you were willing to back down. Before another word could be spoken, you hear someone come up behind you.

“Is everything okay, here?” You hear someone ask, and you turn to see a middle-aged woman looking between you and the boy in front of you.

“Everything’s fine, thank you. This guy was just moving his bike out of the way so we could leave.” You say quickly before the guy has a chance to speak, grinning as you look over at him, challenging him to go against you now that there is a witness.

“If it pleases you, Darling. I’ll move the damn bike.” The guy says, eyes narrowed as he glares, his voice almost a spiteful hiss as he starts the engine of his bike up, putting his helmet on before roaring out of the parking lot, finally giving you the peace you had been craving.

“He wasn’t bothering you girls, was he?” The woman asks worriedly as you turn to face her.

“It was nothing we couldn’t handle.” You say with a laugh, waving your hand dismissively as the woman visibly relaxes at your words.

“Well, good on you. Take care of yourselves, girls.” The woman says softly, receiving a nod in response from both you and Lily before she turns to leave as you and Lily move to get into your car to head home.

“Man, he was such an ass.” You complain the moment your car door is closed, leaning back against your chair and letting out a sigh.

“Try not to let him get to you. You’re probably never going to see him again.” Lily offers softly, smiling as you nod, reaching to turn your key in the ignition.

“Good point. I’m not going to think about him any more.” You say, looking over at Lily with a smile, preparing to drive off.

However, despite your words. You had forgotten all about your promise to not think of him again.

“Hey, Sweetheart! How was the beach?” Jake asks with a large smile as you enter the living room, petting Moose who demands your attention.

“It was great until some asshat with a bike blocked me in and refused to move.” You say, already beginning to launch into a tangent about the events that had happened.

“He didn’t move?” Bradley asks, entering the living room from the kitchen, and handing Jake a coffee as he sits down with a drink of his own.

“Nope. I asked multiple times and he refused to move. He only moved when a woman showed up and asked if everything was okay. I think having an audience spooked him, but I’m not going to complain.” You say with a shrug, settling down on the armchair as Moose tries to force his way up onto the chair with you, ignoring your joking groans as he settles onto your lap.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him, anymore. You won’t see him again and you have other things you can focus on.” Jake says with a supportive smile as you nod.

“Lily said the same thing.” You agree with a smile.

“She’s a smart girl,” Bradley says with a smile.

“She always has been. I need to focus on tomorrow. We’re meeting Javy’s son, right?” You say, looking from Bradley to your dad as they both nod.

“That’s right. We’re having a get-together just outside the Hard Deck to welcome Mateo.” Jake confirms as you fight the urge to frown slightly.

“I owe Javy an apology for the way I reacted yesterday. That wasn’t fair on him.” You mumble, feeling embarrassed for the way you had acted.

“Hey, it was a big piece of news. Javy knows you weren’t being malicious in your reaction yesterday. Talk to him tomorrow and I’m sure the two of you will be fine.” Bradley then says, both he and Jake smiling softly as you nod.

“I agree with Bradley. You can talk to Javy and I’m sure the two of you will be back to normal in no time.” Jake agrees, getting nods from both you and Bradley.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow after I’ve met Mateo. I owe him an introduction since he’s new to town.” You say as you lean back against the armchair cushions, absentmindedly petting Moose.

“I can’t wait to meet Mateo. Him moving here means so much to Javy.” Jake says, thinking of all the times Javy had forlornly told him about Mateo and how he wanted to visit desperately.

“Well, if he’s anything like Javy. We’ll get along just fine.” You muse softly, exchanging soft smiles with your dads.

But when the next day came. You found yourself eating your previous words.

You, Jake, and Bradley arrived at the beach just outside the Hard Deck, jumping out of the truck with Moose alongside you and approaching where the Daggers had gathered outside.

“Do you see Javy?” You ask as you approach the group, searching for him so you can talk to him.

“He’s just over there, and that must be Mateo nearby,” Jake says, pointing out where Javy is before pointing at someone sitting at a nearby table with their back to you.

“I’m going to go and introduce myself.” You say with a smile, handing Moose’s leash to Jake and beginning to make your way across to where Mateo is sitting.

“Hey, you must be Mateo, I’m y/n.” You introduce yourself with a smile as Mateo turns to face you, your smile dropping the instant you realise that the guy sitting before you was the same biker from yesterday who had refused to move after blocking you in.

“I must admit I wasn’t expecting to see you around here again, Darling. I thought you’d be licking your wounds after you needed a grownup to fight your battle for you.” Mateo says snarkily, turning around to face you fully and leaning his back against the wooden table as he smirks.

“I didn’t need a grownup’s help, Asshat. I was doing perfectly fine without her.” You say angrily, silently wondering how someone as lovely as Javy had a son who acted like this.

“So you’re the daughter my dad kept raving about? Seems like his breath was wasted on your praises.” Mateo says, barely glancing over at Javy as he speaks before focusing back on you.

“You don’t know anything about me, Asshat.” You say, eyes narrowing into a lethal glare.

“I know you’re my dad’s best friend’s kid. You’re going to the same school I’m being forced to go to, and my dad practically kisses the ground you walk upon. Anyone would think you’re his kid with the way he talks about you.” Mateo says with a roll of his eyes, his frustration evident in his voice.

“I forget, those little bits of information ensure you know absolutely everything about me.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes in response as you fold your arms across your chest.

“I know more than you think, Darling. I’m not stupid, you know.” Mateo says, making you grit your teeth.

“You could’ve fooled me.” You say, your irritation reaching a breaking point. You then look around, locking eyes with Javy. You smile softly and take the opportunity to move away from Mateo to talk to Javy finally.

“Hey, Kit-Kat,” Javy says quietly as you approach him, his smile small yet genuine.

“Hey, Uncle Javy. I wanted to apologise for how I reacted the other day.” You say, fiddling with your fingers to try and calm yourself.

“You don’t need to apologise, y/n. I had kept a pretty big secret for a long time and it makes sense for you to need time to process the news.” Javy says with a gentle smile, reaching up to rest a hand on your shoulder, making your smile widen before you move to hug him an action Javy reciprocates in seconds.

“I do need to apologise. It wasn’t fair of me to act like I was entitled to that information. And I’m sorry for that.” You apologise as you hug Javy tightly.

“If anything I should apologise. I could see the way you and Mateo were interacting just a minute ago.” Javy mumbles embarrassed at his son's attitude that he had been on the receiving end of since Mateo arrived the day before.

“I thought he’d be a bit more like you in personality.” You admit with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I did too. Unfortunately, it seems he has a problem with me and no matter what I try, he won’t talk to me.” Javy admits softly, disappointed that Mateo won’t even give him the time of day.

“Maybe he needs some time. It’s been a big change for him and maybe he’s just lashing out because of it?” You offer as you pull away from the embrace slightly so you can look up at Javy.

“We’ll have to see,” Javy says softly, seemingly unconvinced by your words of support. Not knowing how to respond, you offer Javy one last hug before heading back over to Jake and Bradley.

“It looked like you and Mateo were getting into it. Is everything okay?” Jake asks the moment you reach their side.

“Turns out Mateo is the guy who blocked me in yesterday.” You say with a shrug, crouching down to pet Moose who greets you happily, tail swishing excitedly.

“That was Mateo?” Bradley asks, shocked as he looks across to where Mateo is sitting, unable to believe that Javy’s son would act in such a way.

“I think Javy needs someone to talk to, Dad. It seems Mateo is giving him some attitude and he might need someone to talk to about it.” You say, glancing over at Jake who nods, giving you Moose’s leash so he can cross to Javy.

“Hey, let’s hang out with the others, if Mateo doesn’t want to get involved then that’s his loss.” Bradley offers as you stand up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you to where Mickey and Bob are standing nearby, drinks in hand as they converse.

“Hey, Hangman Junior!” Mickey greets you happily with a hug which you reciprocate quickly before moving to hug Bob.

“Hey, Mickey. Hey Bob. Have you guys met Mateo yet?” You greet the two men, looking between them as they nod slowly.

“He’s a bit… different to what I was expecting,” Mickey says awkwardly, eyes flicking across to where Mateo was sitting before looking back at you.

“Phoenix and I tried to introduce ourselves to him but we got the cold shoulder. It seemed like you managed to have a conversation with him though.” Bob says before taking a sip from his water, watching you carefully.

“Oh, that? No, it turns out Mateo was the ass who blocked me in at the beach yesterday and he decided to keep picking a fight with me. I don’t think we’re going to get on at all. He’s nothing like Javy.” You explain, shaking your head as you tell the story, making sure the men know that you’re not going to get along with him like you had previously thought.

“We can agree with you there. He is nothing like Coyote.” Mickey agrees as both he and Bob nod, everyone glancing over at Mateo and watching him curiously for a moment before turning back to each other to continue your conversations.

By the end of the get-together, Mateo had ended up disappearing much to everyone’s shock. The only person who wasn’t panicked at the revelation was Javy, who had dealt with him disappearing the day before and just defeatedly told everyone to head home, apologising for the way Mateo had been acting and for wasting everyone’s day. You had given Javy a big hug after hearing him say that, feeling bad that his own son wasn’t putting in the same effort he was to forge a relationship.

“Hey, would you like to come to ours for dinner? We could order some takeout or something?” Jake offers his friend softly, fighting back a frown as Javy shakes his head.

“Nah, it’s best I stay at home in case Mateo comes back. He may not want much to do with me but I don’t want him locked outside without any keys.” Javy says, his smile sad as he attempts to wave you and your dads off.

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call us.” Bradley then says, reaching out to pat Javy’s shoulder lightly.

“Thank you,” Javy says softly before allowing you and your dads to make your way over to Jake’s truck so you can head home for the day. As your dad’s truck pulled away from the Hard Deck, all you could think about was how much Mateo was going to be a pain in your ass when he started at your school.

It turned out that your prediction had been correct, Mateo had joined your high school halfway through the week after the beach get-together and much to your dismay he had been put in most of your classes. You and Lily had tried your best to avoid him, and you constantly found yourself biting your tongue when he decided to bother you both during and in between classes.

“Hey, Darling. I thought I could feel a chill in the air.” Mateo teases from where he is leaning against a locker, a smirk on his lips as you glare at him.

“Do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice, Asshat?” You say, not even stopping as you walk down the corridor, causing Mateo to push himself away from the locker and trail along behind you.

“I could ask you the same question. You’re the damn teacher's pet, not me.” Mateo says with a shrug as he continues to follow you.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t participate in class. I’d hate to have to prove you wrong in front of everyone.” You say, raising an eyebrow as you briefly glance his way, smirking to yourself.

“If that helps you sleep at night, Darling. You can think whatever you want.” Mateo says.

“How many times have I told you to stop calling me that?” You say lowly, stopping short in your tracks so you can turn to face Mateo who mimics your actions.

“I thought you liked it,” Mateo says, a fake pout on his face to irritate you further before breaking out into a smile when he achieves his goal.

“We don’t even have the same class now, can you just leave me alone?” You say, your irritation quickly reaching its peak as you begin to walk away.

“You’re no fun,” Mateo says before walking off, not noticing how you roll your eyes at his words.

“Why does he constantly bother me?” You complain to Lily as she joins you from her class.

“It’s because you argue back. You’re giving him what he wants.” Lily says with a shrug, ignoring how you huff in annoyance.

“If he stopped bothering me I wouldn’t need to fight back. He could make life easier for the both of us if he just shut up.” You say, turning to head into your next class with Lily following behind you, hoping that Mateo will stop bothering you.

When lunchtime arrived, you entered the cafeteria with Lily, chatting with her as you discussed your plans for next weekend. After you had grabbed a tray, you surveyed the busy cafeteria, you noticed Mateo sitting by himself and felt your heart sink slightly. Despite your frustration and lack of friendship with Mateo, you found yourself sympathetic to the fact that he had clearly been spending his time alone without anyone to talk to. Walking away from Lily, you make your way across the cafeteria towards the table Mateo is sitting at, placing your tray down and easing down into your chair.

“What are you doing here?” Mateo asks as soon as he looks up and realises it was you sitting opposite him.

“I saw you were sat alone and I thought I’d-”

“You thought you’d play the sympathetic hero and sit with the new kid, huh? Well, I haven’t got time to deal with you trying to make yourself feel better.” Mateo snaps accusingly, glaring at you with a ferocity you hadn’t seen from him since you had spoken at the beach.

“I wasn’t doing that-”

“I know exactly what you’re doing. You don’t give a shit about me. You just want to make yourself look good in front of everyone else. Just leave me the fuck alone.” Mateo growls angrily, making you grow angry, grabbing your tray and raising from your seat.

“Fine, have it your way. You’re never going to make friends with that shitty attitude of yours.” You say angrily, unable to believe the attitude you were getting for a kind gesture.

“I don’t need friends. I’m fine on my own.” Mateo says as you begin to walk away, not able to see how you roll your eyes, finding Lily sitting with some other girls in your grade and joining them instead.

“Did you really just try and sit with Mateo?” Lily asks as you settle in the seat opposite her, beginning to dig into your food.

“I thought I’d try and be nice. I know if I were sitting alone I’d want someone to take the step to sit with me. Turns out he didn’t want anything to do with me.” You say in between mouthfuls, glancing around at the girls around you who watch you sympathetically.

“I heard Zack tried to sit with him on his first day and he got cursed out pretty quickly. It’s clear he’s a loner and doesn’t like people.” Marcy says, recalling what a boy had told her before and frowning. Unable to voice the thoughts you had regarding Mateo’s outbursts, you found yourself nodding along to Marcy’s theory, glancing over your shoulder to where Mateo was sitting, watching as he ate his meal alone.

Over the next few days, Mateo started to be less annoying towards you and more standoffish. He didn’t bother you in classes or in the corridor. He’d barely spare you a glance if you and your dads were over at his house to check in on him and Javy. You had longed for the day when Mateo stopped bothering you but now that he had stopped, you found yourself missing his presence, no matter how much you complained about it. You also longed to learn what his problem with you was, you admitted that you hadn’t gotten off on the right foot with him but you had made an effort at school and he had brushed you off. Javy had told you to not worry about it, since he had been treating everyone around him like that no matter how hard he tried to forge a relationship with his son.

One day after school, you had been promised by your dad that he’d pick you up after school since your car had gone in for a service so you found yourself waiting outside your high school, alone as more and more people began to disappear home. It wasn’t until nearly everyone had left that you realised that Mateo was still around.

“I thought you would’ve hopped on your little bike and ridden off home by now.” You say, barely sparing Mateo a glance as you notice him sidling up alongside you.

“I could say the same for you. You haven’t driven home to daddy, yet?” Mateo says teasingly, his snark matching yours with practised ease.

“My car’s being serviced, what’s your excuse, Asshat? Or have you decided to start bugging me again?” You retort, glaring over at him briefly before focusing back on the road ahead of you, hoping that by some miracle your dad’s truck will pull up in front of you.

“That dad of mine confiscated my bike keys. Damn asshole said I apparently can’t be trusted so he told me I have to wait to be picked up like I’m a kid.” Mateo complains, making you grit your teeth at his words, enraged that he could speak in such a way about Javy.

“He has every right to treat you that way because quite frankly you are acting like a child and it’s ridiculous.” You say firmly, checking the time on your phone one more time and sighing at the time. Coming to the assumption that your dad had forgotten to pick you up, you made the executive decision to begin to walk home with Mateo beginning to trail after you.

“Why are you following me?” You complain, quickly noticing that Mateo is following you along the path.

“I’m walking home I’m not following you. It’s just unfortunate that we live so close together so I’m stuck walking with you.” Mateo says, an almost offended tone to his voice at your accusation.

“Well, if you could keep your mouth shut that would be great and maybe I won’t kill you on the way home.” You say, your grip tightening on your bag as you continue to walk, hoping that Mateo will get the hint.

“Again with the threats but no follow through. You’re all bark and no bite aren’t you, Darling?” Mateo says with a whistle, raising an eyebrow as you scoff.

“I can fight back if I need to. I just won’t stoop to that if I can help it.” You say, your eyes focused on where you are going so you wouldn’t give Mateo the satisfaction of looking at him as you begin to head through the park, grateful that if you continue to argue, people won’t be around to witness it.

“You’re just trying to sound tough. We all know you’d hide behind your daddy at any confrontation.” Mateo says, enjoying how quickly he is getting under your skin as you stop in your tracks, turning to face him.

“What exactly is your problem with me? I’ve tried to be nice and you keep pushing me away and acting like an asshole.” You ask, genuinely wanting an answer from him but not attempting to mask your anger in any way.

“It’s none of your business.” Mateo retorts, snapping quickly as you only grow angrier.

“It is my business. You have some sort of problem with me, and even more so, you have a problem with Javy who doesn’t deserve that treatment from you.” You say angrily, your voice raising.

“Of course, you’d defend him. You know, he was never around when I was younger. I was that kid who grew up with no dad and pretty much never had a mom either. You have no idea what it was like to go through that.” Mateo says angrily, taking a step closer to you as he talks.

“You’re not even giving him a chance. He’s really trying to make a bond with you. At least meet him halfway. You can hate me all you like but don’t hate Javy.” You say, fighting the urge to plead with the stubborn teen who stood before you.

“I never said I hated either of you,” Mateo said exasperated, running a hand through his short curls in his frustration.

“You’ve made it pretty clear that you hate everyone around you.” You say, not believing Mateo’s recently spoken words for a second.

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth. I never said that.” Mateo says, rolling his eyes.

“Then why are you acting like you do? I’ve heard Javy telling my dad about how you treat him and it’s ruining him. You truly cannot see a good thing even if it’s standing right in front of you.” You say bitterly.

“Fuck it,” Mateo whispers before launching towards you, capturing your lips with his, taking you by surprise. Once the shock had worn off, you found yourself kissing him back, your hands reaching up to pull him closer as Mateo pushed you back until your back met a tree. You continued to kiss until the need for air got too much and you forced yourself to pull away, both you and Mateo panting slightly as you gazed into each other’s eyes, neither one of you knowing what to say.

“What was that?” You ask quietly, unable to remove your gaze from Mateo’s eyes.

“Proof I never hated you,” Mateo responds, swallowing thickly as he awaits your reaction. You remain standing in place, unable to form any coherent thoughts as you stare at the boy standing before you.

“I don’t know what to say…” You force out, your brain scrambling to make sense of the thousands of thoughts swimming around in your head.

“You hated it.” Mateo mumbles, beginning to pull away from you but you act quicker, cupping his face and pulling his lips back to yours. Much like you previously, Mateo was soon kissing you back once the shock wore off, forcing you back against the tree once more. This time when you pull apart, you manage to muster a smile.

“I can’t believe we just did that. Twice.” You admit with a laugh, getting the courage to briefly brush your thumb over the apple of Mateo’s cheek before dropping your hands.

“So you didn’t hate it?” Mateo asks, a small attempt at a smile gracing his lips.

“Do you need me to kiss you again to get the answer through your head?” You ask with a light laugh.

“Maybe.” Mateo muses, placing his hands on your middle to pull you into a third kiss, this time you are both prepared and able to enjoy the moment.

“Did that give you your answer?” You tease with a smile as you pull away enough to speak, your lips barely brushing up against his.

“It sure does, Darling,” Mateo says, his smile growing. Seeing his natural smile, one that wasn’t forced or teasing, made you realise just how pretty Mateo was. He looked so much more himself when he smiled and you wanted to see that smile from him even more.

“So, you never really hated me?” You ask, your eyes searching Mateo’s for an answer, in response, Mateo takes your hand softly and leads you to a nearby bench, both of you easing yourself down onto it.

“I never hated you. I mean sure, I thought you were annoying the first time you met, but I also loved how you weren’t afraid to back down against me. Finding out you were the one my dad talked about hurt, I won’t lie. He spoke about you like you were the greatest gift to mankind.” Mateo finds himself uncharacteristically willing to open up to you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t exactly make you feel welcome. I was just so angry that you spoke in such a way about Javy.” You apologise, watching Mateo as he shakes his head.

“I was so jealous of you. You knew my dad better than I do. You got your whole life with him around and I didn’t get to see him at all.” Mateo continues, having to look away from you to conceal the threatening building tears.

“It’s not too late to get to know him.” You offer, your voice soft as you reach out to take Mateo’s hand in your own, causing him to turn and look at you.

“I knew if I let myself fall for you I’d have a problem.” Mateo manages to say, a teary laugh escaping him.

“A problem? That’s a bold thing to say after three kisses. What problem?” You ask with a light roll of your eyes.

“You’re too soft for your own good, Darling. I knew if I fell for you I’d get soft too. I’ve worked so hard to protect myself my whole life that I never thought I’d fall for someone. Trust you to swoop in and mess up my plans.” Mateo admits, blinking furiously to try and rid himself of his tears.

“There’s nothing wrong with letting people in. It took my dad a long time to learn that one and now he’s happier than ever.” You say softly, squeezing Mateo’s hand as you talk to offer him support.

“It’s just… scary. I’ve relied on myself for so long.” Mateo admits, the embarrassment covering his features as he reveals something he’d kept hidden for his whole life.

“Well, let’s take it slow, shall we? There’s no rush.” You offer quietly, doing your best to sound confident for Mateo’s sake. Slightly comforted by your words, Mateo carefully moves his hand so that he was now holding yours.

You and Mateo then decide to sit together on the bench for a little while, both still trying to wrap your heads around the sudden large advancement you had made in your dynamic. Neither of you felt the need to talk, you opted to spend your time getting used to each others presence more. After spending twenty minutes together in the park, you both decide to continue to make your way home, knowing that if you stay out too long you’ll be on the receiving end of multiple worried texts from your dad.

As you approach your house, you find yourself slowing down to try and spend even more time with Mateo, something he picks up on almost instantly.

“You okay?” Mateo asks with a concern you hadn’t heard from him before.

“I’m fine. I just want to do this before we get to my house. Can’t risk my dad’s seeing this.” You say quickly, turning to face Mateo and before he can even question you, you pull him into another quick kiss, both of you smiling softly as you pull away.

“Keeping this a secret, huh Darling?” Mateo teases, raising an eyebrow as you nod.

“If that’s okay with you. Just for now.” You say, studying Mateo’s reaction carefully, relaxing slightly when he nods in understanding.

“That’s fine. I don’t really think I’m on good enough terms with my dad to open up to him about anything like this just yet.” Mateo says, his voice soft as he watches you softly.

“Maybe you could try talking to Javy? Not about this of course but about everything else. Maybe you two will be able to have a fresh start and create a bond?” You suggest, watching as Mateo nods, albeit hesitantly.

“I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises,” Mateo says as you offer him a small nod and smile before you whisper a quiet goodbye to Mateo which he returns before you go your separate ways.

You make your way into your house, noticing how your dad’s truck is still absent from the driveway and rolling your eyes. While you were glad you and Mateo were able to make something good out of being left behind, you couldn’t deny that it didn’t annoy you that your dad had forgotten to pick you up from school, especially after he promised he’d do so. When you enter the house, you’re greeted by Moose who excitedly whines in greeting as you reach down to pet him.

“Hey y/n/n. Where’s Jake?” Bradley makes his way into the hall to greet you with a hug, quickly noticing his husband’s absence.

“You tell me. He never showed up so I had to walk home.” You grumble, your mood now significantly soured as you remember that your dad had forgotten you entirely.

“He what?” Bradley asks, eyes widening in shock at the mere thought of Jake forgetting to pick you up from school.

“Yeah, his promise meant absolutely nothing to him, didn’t it?” You say, beginning to beeline for the stairs with Moose following along behind you as Bradley watches you sadly.

By the time Jake had come home, you and Bradley had sat down for dinner and the smile that Bradley had managed to bring onto your face vanished the second you noticed your dad’s presence.

“Hey guys, what’s on the menu?” Jake asks with a large smile, completely ignorant of your lack of acknowledgement as he enters the kitchen.

“I put a plate for you in the oven to keep warm,” Bradley says, glancing over his shoulder to watch Jake who nods, thanking Bradley as he opens the oven and removes the dish.

“Have you had a good day at school, y/n/n?” Jake then says after placing his plate on the table, and ruffling your hair, missing the way you scowled at him as you fixed your hair while he settled in his seat.

“It was fine.” You mumble, stabbing at your food without removing your gaze from your plate.

“Are you sure? You sound a little annoyed. Was it Mateo again?” Jake asks, watching you carefully.

“Jake.” Bradley attempts to interject before you speak up.

“No, it wasn’t Mateo.” You say quickly, finding yourself leaping to Mateo’s defence, much to Jake’s surprise.

“Then what’s bothering you? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Jake offers, his voice soft as he watches you.

“Can I say you? You’re bothering me right now.” You say firmly, finally lifting your gaze from your plate to glare at your dad whose eyes widen slightly at your snappy tone.

“y/n.” Bradley then says, sensing the rising tension and trying to calm everything before an argument kicks off.

“What do you mean by this? Where has this attitude come from?” Jake asks, his voice raising as he grows angry at your attitude.

“It doesn’t matter.” You say dismissively, returning your focus to your plate, fighting the urge to stab your food more aggressively than you had been previously.

“It does matter when you’re giving me an attitude. I’ve had a long day at work and the last thing I need is my kid giving me an unwarranted attitude.” Jake says, putting his cutlery down as he addresses you. His eyes narrow as he glares at you, ignoring how Moose whimpered and lay down from his position near the table.

“I don’t think the attitude is unwarranted. You promised me that you’d pick me up from school today. You know the walk is long and my car is in for a service. You let me down and you come waltzing in acting like nothing is wrong.” You say bitterly, now rapidly losing your appetite and so putting your cutlery down and pushing your chair back, getting to your feet and leaving the table so you could head to your room with Moose rushing after you. After hearing your footsteps grow quieter, Bradley turns to look at Jake who is now sitting with a shocked expression.

“You couldn’t just leave it could you?” Bradley says, a disappointed tone to his voice as he talks, lifting his fork to his mouth to take a bite.

“She could’ve texted me. I would’ve dropped everything to pick her up.” Jake says, annoyed that you’d snapped at him over something you could’ve resolved in a simple text.

“She shouldn’t have had to, Jake. You had promised her that you were going to be there. You were the one worrying about the walk home in the first place. But you decided that going to the beach was more important, huh?” Bradley mutters, his irritation obvious, revealing that he had checked Jake’s location as he gets up from his seat, picking up both his plate and yours before putting the plates in the dishwasher.

“That’s not fair, Bradley. Javy needed someone to talk to and I stepped up.” Jake says, watching as his husband shakes his head softly.

“But you couldn’t offer your daughter the decency to tell her that you wouldn’t be coming? Jake, if you couldn’t pick her up I’m sure she would’ve been fine with it if you had just told her. She could’ve gotten a ride with a friend or taken the bus if you had given her a heads-up.” Bradley says, understanding why Jake had been unable to pick you up but disappointed that he couldn’t even tell you that he wasn’t coming.

“Bradley...” Jake says, now unable to formulate a response.

“Whatever apology you want to say. I’m not the person you should be saying it to.” Bradley says with a shake of his head as he makes his way out to the living room, leaving Jake alone to think over his words.

While Jake mulls over the words spoken to him, you’re curled up in your bed with Moose by your side, snuggling close to you as you stroke him softly, appreciating the dog’s comfort. As you mindlessly watch a random show on your laptop, you find your eyes being drawn towards your phone. You longed to text Mateo, to ask him if he wanted to meet up with you so you could get out of the house just ot get your mind off everything. But you didn’t have his number and you doubted that any of your friends would have his number. With no way to contact Mateo, you debate sneaking out to see him, thinking about whether it would be worth being questioned by Javy if you showed up at his door. Eventually, as you conclude that it wouldn’t be worth sneaking out, knowing that Javy would’ve more than likely informed your dad about you showing up at his house, the door to your room opens and you look up to see Bradley sticking his head in.

“Hey, Kid. Are you okay?” Bradley asks quietly, his smile gentle as ever as he watches you.

“I’m fine.” You mumble, returning your attention to the laptop in front of you as Moose whines softly, sensing your mood.

“I know you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to but, I am here if you need someone to talk to.” Bradley offers, not daring to cross the threshold into your room without permission.

“I’m not really in the mood to talk to anyone, but thank you, Bradley.” You say, lifting your head to look at Bradley with a small smile, making sure you let Bradley know that you were appreciative of his efforts.

“Well, you know where to find me if you need me,” Bradley says with a nod and a smile before leaving and closing the door behind him, allowing you to settle back into the pillow. Secretly, you did long to speak to someone, it’s just that Bradley wasn’t that someone right now.

By the time it grew dark and everyone was beginning to go to bed. Jake hadn’t made an effort to come to talk to you and in your stubbornness, you refused to be the one to give in so you remained in your room, listening with bated breath as Jake passed your room, hesitating for a brief second before continuing down the corridor to his bedroom. As you hear your dad walk away, you let out a small sigh of relief before curling up under your covers, closing your eyes and willing tomorrow to come faster.

The next morning, you managed to get up and out of the house without crossing paths with Jake, leaving you to walk once again to school since you weren’t scheduled to get your car back until the afternoon but after talking with Bradley, he had promised to swing by the garage to pick up your car, you had the confidence that he’d stick to his word and pick up your car before picking you up from school. By the time you arrived at school, you were searching for Mateo the moment you joined the crowds swarming the halls.

“Hey, Darling,” Mateo says as he sidles up alongside you, keeping his smile as suppressed as possible to avoid attracting attention.

“It’s good to see you.” You say softly, fighting the urge to reach out and pull him into a kiss.

“Getting soft on me already? Didn’t think it was possible.” Mateo teases, winking subtly as the two of you continue to make your way down the hall.

“Bring your ego back down to Earth I’m not getting soft.” You say with a roll of your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh as Mateo smirks.

“You say that now but I give you a few days before you soften up,” Mateo says, nudging you with a smirk.

“Nah, it’ll be you going soft first.” You insist, laughing softly as you walk side-by-side. As you reach your homeroom, you take your seat next to Lily while Mateo takes his seat at the back of the class.

“Were you talking with Mateo?” Lily asks, shocked as you settle into your seat.

“He was just asking some questions about something.” You say with a shrug, trying to deflect her question as she watches you suspiciously.

“And you gave him the time of day? You never do that.” Lily asks, confused as you lean back in your chair.

“I’m making an effort to be nice. He’s Javy’s son and I can’t exactly get rid of him since my dad is literally his best friend.” You say, hoping your explanation is enough to get her to back off. Thankfully, she hesitantly nods and focuses back on the schoolwork she was hurriedly trying to finish before classes started.

As the day progresses, you and Mateo continue to interact as subtly as possible, exchanging small smiles across rooms, and when walking in the corridors, Mateo’s hand brushes up against yours, neither one of you making the jump to hold each other’s hand, desperate to maintain the secrecy of your relationship. You were aware of the side-eyed stares you were both getting from other people in the halls, but you didn’t let them bother you. At the back of your mind, you were still dwelling on the argument you had with your dad the evening before, still wondering how you had been forgotten about so easily, and it was obvious that Mateo had picked up on your mood and decided to question you about it over lunch.

“So, what’s got you all gloomy. You’ve been trying to smile all day and it’s not convincing anyone.” Mateo asks, fork in hand as he watches your reaction.

“I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You attempt to brush off his attempts to question you as you take a sip from your drink.

“You can lie to yourself but not to me, Darling. You think I don’t know what your real smile looks like? I’m an asshole, not stupid. So what’s up?” Mateo answers as if he was answering the easiest question in the world.

“Just a stupid argument I had with Dad last night.” You mumble, poking at your food with your fork, fighting the frown that threatened to tug on your lips.

“Dad’s are dicks, what’s new?” Mateo says, his lips turning up in a small smirk as you glare up at him.

“Not the time, Asshat.” You grumble as Mateo nods slightly, his eyes flicking down to his tray.

“Just trying to make a joke.” He mumbles.

“Dad and I don’t argue often. He forgot to pick me up yesterday and he couldn’t even send me a text to tell me why. He came waltzing in acting like nothing was wrong. It’s just not like him at all.” You say, your focus entirely on your plate as you talk, missing how Mateo rolled his eyes slightly at your words.

“My dad forgot me too. Shit happens, you know?” Mateo says as you glare up at him once more.

“Seriously? You asked what was bothering me and the moment I tell you, you make jokes?” You ask incredulously, shocked by his nonchalance.

“Look. I don’t have a relationship with my dad. You do. If you want to fix it, maybe you should take a page out of your own book and talk to him. You told me to try to talk things out with my old man. If you ask me, you just need to take your own advice.” Mateo replies, watching you as you pause briefly in your movement, looking back up at him with furrowed eyebrows. As you looked at him, Mateo shrugged lightly before continuing to eat his food and his words began to sink in slightly as you watched him.

“Mateo, I’m sorry.” You apologise, nearly missing how quickly Mateo looked at you, a look of slight shock on his face before he forced himself to smile.

“Don’t apologise,” Mateo says with a shake of his head as he focuses back on his food, continuing to eat as you continue to think over his words.

By the time the end of the day had come, you had carefully planned out an apology after thinking about how Mateo talked some sense into you. As you made your way out of the school with Lily by your side after bidding a secret goodbye to Mateo where you both finally exchanged numbers, you saw your car parked outside and assuming Bradley was the one driving it, you walked over with as smile that only faltered slightly when you opened the passenger side door and saw your dad inside instead.

“Hi, Dad.” You mumble quietly as you get into the passenger seat, shoving your backpack into the footwell in front of you.

“Hi, y/n/n,” Jake replies with a small smile, waiting for you to plug in your seatbelt before beginning the drive home.

“I thought Bradley was picking me up after grabbing the car.” You ask, trying to hide any potential attitude in your voice.

“I thought I should do it. I let you down yesterday and I should do something to make up for it.” Jake responds, his eyes fixed firmly on the road as he drives.

“I didn’t mean to get mad last night.” You begin, glancing over at your dad as you talk.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologise. I had promised I’d pick you up and I let you down. If anyone should be apologising here it should be me.” Jake says, looking over at you as he stops in front of a red light.

“I didn’t even stick around to hear if you had a reason for why you hadn’t picked me up.” You say, feeling bad about your treatment towards your dad.

“It’s okay, y/n. I owed you a text at the very least. Javy asked me if we could talk after work and I completely forgot about everything else, I just wanted to make sure Javy was okay.” Jake explains, feeling awful that he had so quickly dropped everything to help his best friend while forgetting about his daughter in the process.

“Is Javy okay?” You ask worriedly, your attention now shifted at the mention of Javy.

“He’s okay. I think Mateo has been giving him a bit of a hard time and he just wanted some support.” Jake explains and you find yourself focusing on the surroundings zipping by you instead of looking at your dad. You had suggested to Mateo that he attempt to form some kind of bond with Javy and you could only hope that you were able to get through to him.

“Sorry. I didn’t realise Javy was struggling. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” You apologise once more, barely able to look over at your dad as he shakes his head.

“Sweetheart, it’s fine. It’s on me for letting you down. I think your anger was warranted.” Jake says with a small smile, briefly glancing over at you as you nod slightly.

“I’m still sorry. I hope Javy is doing okay.” You say softly as Jake turns the car down the road your house is on.

“I spoke to him at work today, he seemed happier. He told me Mateo made the effort to talk to him last night over dinner.” Jake says as you smile lightly, relieved to hear that Mateo has listened to what you said and tried talking to his dad. After Jake had parked on the driveway, you both get out of the car and before Jake could begin to head towards the front door, you round the car quickly and trap your dad in a hug, holding him tightly.

“I love you, Dad.” You say as Jake wraps his arms around you, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I love you too, y/n. Are we good now?” Jake replies softly, pulling away slightly so he can look down at you.

“We’re good now.” You confirm with a smile, hugging your dad one last time before you pull away and head into the house where Bradley is standing in the hall with a smile and folded arms.

“Have you two finally made up now?” Bradley asks, quirking an eyebrow as the two of you nod lightly, smiles gracing all of your faces.

“We have,” Jake says, crossing to Bradley to press a soft kiss to his lips while you take your shoes off and excuse yourself to your room, claiming to want to do homework but all you wanted to do was text Mateo, leaving your dad’s downstairs.

Over time, your relationship with Mateo began to develop. You found it difficult, constantly having to sneak around when you were at school or around your parents. You had decided to make it known that you and Mateo were now on friendlier terms, but you had to keep your PDA on the down low and you often found yourselves having to go around to each other’s houses if you knew you had an empty house.

However, thinking you were alone ended up being the reason you both got caught.

“Hey, Darling.” Mateo greeted you at the door before you even got the chance to knock on the front door.

“Hey, Asshat.” You say teasingly barely stepping through the door before Mateo’s lips connect with yours, his hands reaching for your waist to pull you closer, slamming the door behind you the moment you cross the threshold.

You decided to forgo heading upstairs so you went into the living room, your lips barely pulling apart as the two of you strumbled through the house before you ended up on the couch. The two of you continued to make out, only pulling apart for brief seconds for air before reconnecting your lips, your arms wound around Mateo’s neck, attempting to pull him closer while Mateo’s hands tangled in your hair. The two of you were oblivious to the world around you, in your head it was just you and Mateo and nothing else mattered. What you didn’t acknowledge, was the sound of the keys in the door and the sound of the door opening.

“What the hell is going on here?” You both leap apart at the sound of Javy’s shocked voice, your eyes wide as you look over at him.

“I… we…” you start, glancing from Mateo to Javy and then back again.

“I mean is it not obvious? You do have eyes.” Mateo answers as if he were answering a simple question, leaning back against the couch, one arm lying along the back behind you as if he were waiting for an opportunity to hold you.

“I could do without the attitude, Mateo.” Javy exhales, his hand coming up to rub at his brow, already beginning to feel a headache forming.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” Mateo says with a shrug.

“How long has this been going on?” Javy asks, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“A couple of weeks?” You reply, your answer coming more as a question as you sheepishly watch Javy who sighs.

“You know what? I’m not going to question you any more. I just wanted to come home and grab something. I’ll leave you alone. Just… be safe if you’re going to do anything.” Javy says pointing at the two of you as you feel your face heat up while Mateo rolls his eyes and Javy grabs what he had forgotten and makes his way towards the front door to make his exit.

As Javy exits the house and makes his way towards his car, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, typing a message to Jake.

‘Did you know our kids were dating?’

At the sound of his phone buzzing, Jake grabs his phone off the table, glancing up at Bradley apologetically before looking down at his phone, his eyebrows furrowing before he flipped his phone around to show Bradley.

“What the hell?”

taglist (comment or ask to be tagged):

@zbeez-outlet @kaceywithak @tsnelf7 @starkleila @cassadilasworld @shanimallina87 @madstxo @chaoticassidy @padsdarlg @lauraseresin @alohastitch0626 @angelbabyange @kmc1989

[thestoryofella]

sunburnt

summary: after spending a day on the beach to take a break from London's constant noise, you end up sunburnt to a crisp. In an attempt to avoid Sirius's teasing, you desperately try to stay hidden. However, when you're finally forced to ask for help, you're reminded of the importance of choosing love over embarrassment.

warnings: fluff, swearing.

sirius black x reader ✿ 1275 words

After getting tired of the near-constant noise in London and the lack of scenery, you planned a solitary beach day to do nothing but read, lounge, and enjoy the nearly ice-cold pineapple you’d prepped the night before. You sprawled out under the sun from sunrise to near sunset, only dipping in the splashing, cold water when you woke up from a snoozy nap spent on a beach towel. Once the sun nearly set and you’d finished the book you packed for the day, you packed up your things and started the journey home.

When you reached the bus station to return to central London, you realized the issue, catching your reflection in the large, circular mirror near the bus driver. You had gotten burnt to a crisp during your beach day, and Sirius would never let you live it down.

Before you left in the morning, Sirius, ever the caring partner, had packed face sunscreen, body sunscreen, and aloe vera into your oversized tote bag. He had even checked if you had applied some in the morning before you rushed out the door. You, torn between the desire to lounge on the beach and the fear of missing the bus, had lied to him before planting a quick kiss on his cheek and dashing to the station. 

Now, you deeply regret not listening to him. In addition to your current appearance, your skin is inflamed, hot, scaly, and hurts to the touch. When you pressed down on your irritated skin, your fingers left an unmistakable mark associated with a severe sunburn. 

“Perfect,” you sarcastically muttered to yourself. 

When you finally stopped at the station closest to yours and Sirius’s shared flat, you walked quickly to get home, eager to shower with cold water and hopefully reduce the inflammation your sunburn caused. The plan was simple: you’d get home, dash to the shower, avoid Sirius for the rest of the night, and then what? After some consideration, you decide you’ll have to sleep with a paper bag over your head and in pajamas best suited for a nun. 

Once you reach your shared flat, you can hear Sirius inside cooking dinner. The low sizzle of sautéing vegetables and gentle humming is his giveaway. Quickly unlocking the door and tiptoeing inside, you sneak past the kitchen without detection until a creaking floorboard gives you away. 

Your heart lurches into your stomach. It’s no use being this sneaky over a sunburn, but you wanted to avoid Sirius’s teasing for as long as possible–even though you sometimes secretly loved it.

Sirius’s head turns to look at you, but you do not turn to face him. “Hi, dollface,” he says. You hear the words come out of his mouth, and you really want to turn around and greet him with a hug, but you are determined to avoid detection. 

You suck in a quick breath before tumbling out the words, “I gotta go hop in the shower before dinner, love you!” With that said, you run to the bathroom, your feet smacking down on the floorboards with each step before loudly closing the door. 

Great, that wasn’t suspicious at all, you think to yourself. You have the urge to facepalm your forehead before remembering the searing pain that would follow.

You hopped in the shower, sighing in relief when the cold water hit your inflamed back. Showering after days spent at the beach was the best. 

When you finally finished showering, you had devised a regimen to defeat your sunburn and hopefully avoid pain. You put thick lotion on every area of your sunburnt skin, planning to top it off with a layer of aloe vera gel for added measure. 

Things were going swimmingly. You’d lotioned every irritated limb and your unusually puffy cheeks–resembling a hamster with too much food in their mouth. That was until you tried to lotion your back and realized that your short arms and the searing pain of trying to stretch them due to sunburn would not make applying products easy. 

“No, no, no!” You exasperatedly muttered. You must swallow your pride to take care of your severely sunburnt back. The issue wasn’t that Sirius would be mean per se, but he would undoubtedly tease you before dotingly helping you. Plus, you really didn’t want him to know you had lied to him this morning, evading his attempts to prevent this in the first place. 

Defeat clouded your brain. Swallowing your pride, you peeked out the bathroom door before feebly calling, “Siri, can you help me quickly.” It wasn’t even a second later that you heard him set down plates and footsteps approaching your location. 

Now, face-to-face with your raven-haired boyfriend, you offered him a coy smile that silently said, please don’t be mad at me. His eyes slowly took in the sight of your sunburnt face. Unbeknownst to him, your back looked a lot worse. 

You stood in silence for only a second before he reacted exactly how you thought he would. He let a bellowing laugh escape his mouth before pressing a smiling kiss to your inflamed forehead. “What the hell happened to you? You look like a tomato!”

You were sure you did at this point. The combination of inflamed skin, paired with your now red cheeks from Sirius’s affectionate teasing, was sure to have reddened your skin. Honestly, you were surprised you didn’t look more like a beet. 

You playfully shoved his shoulder before cracking the door wide enough for him to sneak in. “Can you please just help me put some lotion and aloe vera on my back?” You tried to sound stern, but a smile still graced your lips. 

He let another laugh escape his mouth upon observing your sunburnt back. “I thought I packed your sunscreen, and you said you put some on before leaving.” 

You huffed in response, crossing your arms over your chest. “I know; I was just so eager to get to the beach and forgot to put some on,” you complained, slightly whining. 

“You know what I always tell you?” He asks.

“No,” you lied. You knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“Sirius knows best!” He nearly sings out before pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. 

“Sirius,” you whined out, not wanting to be reminded of your unfortunate errors. He usually knew best, but you would never in a million years admit that to him. 

“Okay, okay,” He laughs, holding his hands up in mock defense before gently lathering both lotion and aloe vera gel onto your inflamed back. 

You nearly sigh at the relief but hold your tongue, a feeble attempt to humble his enormous ego. Instead, you opt for a simple “thank you,” turning around to envelop his torso in a tight hug. He responds by kissing your forehead, not wanting to press his hands into your irritated back.

♡ ♡ ♡

By the end of the evening, you were honestly sure you had managed to avoid most of Sirius’s teasing. After he had helped you with your back earlier, you two had enjoyed dinner together and were currently cuddled up in bed, about to fall asleep. 

Leaning over to kiss under your ear–possibly the only part of your skin protected from the sun’s wrath–Sirius wrapped his arms around your waist and whispered, “Goodnight, tomato.”

You rolled your eyes, letting a noticeable sigh escape your lips. You felt Sirius’s chest move with gentle laughter as he delighted in your feigned annoyance. 

You truly were never going to live this down. But you realized you were willing to put up with it if it meant you could stay wrapped in Sirius’s arms forever.

[maharellasa]

I've given it a lot of thought about making a post like this, because I didn't want to just add to the already extended discourse on the subject, but I keep reading opinions and I just can't stay out of it.

Before I continue I want to make clear that I've done high approval solas playthroughs and I do believe that a befriended solas cares deeply for the inquisitor. He respects and values them, and you could even argue that they forge a kind of sibling bond or a mentor/apprentice one. So for him to betray that, it's really a tragedy in the end—the inquisitor hurts deeply for their lost friend/mentor.

That said, and I am truly, honestly, not saying this as a solasmancer, but from a storytelling point of view, the story of a romanced solas is still far more impactful.

Please let me make my case before you draw conclusions.

I am not saying it's more valid, or that you should do it, or that it should be the canon. Just, simply, that it is a more powerful story narratively, and that acting like the high approval run somehow has an equal narrative value is completely unbased. It's a meaningful story, yes, but it does not have the same impact. (To be clear, I'm not speaking in comparison to other romances here since that's based on taste and preferences, just the case of befriended vs romanced solas specifically.)

From a creative writing point of view, the romance employs:

backstory relevance: fen'harel is an important part of lavellan's culture and upbringing. and yes, arguably, that's true for any lavellan, but in the case of a romanced one, there's the beautiful narrative device of—

tragic irony: she grew up specifically being cautioned about the dread wolf's treachery, hearing blessings like "may the dreadwolf never catch your scent" etc. and what does she do? she goes and falls in love with him.The dread wolf literally takes her. A befriended lavellan might love him, but will give him nothing so vital as her heart for it to be considered "a taking". And as for other inquisitors, well, they don't even know who Fen'harel is.

unique perspective: (edit because of comments on this post) solas reveals much more of himself to a romanced inquisitor than a high approval one. "it's not right", "it's been so long since I trusted someone", "it will be kinder in the long run", "you saw more than most", and to top that, the ultimate reveal of solas telling her he can remove her vallaslin, which is his way of showing her who he truly is.

denied catharsis: one of the most essential rules of storytelling is that after you've reached the climax of the hero's journey and you've dragged them through all their struggles, you should provide a form of catharsis. that doesn't happen in the case of the romanced lavellan. she ends up alone. I'm not even saying heartbroken, because losing a friend can cause equal pain, but a solas romanced lavellan ends. up. alone. After all that she went through, after having her personhood erased and being forced into a religion that is not hers, after losing her arm and potentially her clan, she ends the journey of the inquisition standing completely alone overlooking an empire that will never thank her. and added to that, we have—

continued torment: her lover still visits her in dreams and she can't even tell if he's real or her imagination.

Yes, high approval playthroughs are enjoyable and meaningful and as much a valid canon as any. And yes, it's really unfortunate that they limited such a beautiful romance to a specific race and gender in the game. But please, please, stop trying to argue that the friendship narrative is as powerful a storytelling as the romance. And stop treating solavellans like silly fangirls who can't see past their faves. I admit that there are those who are trying to force the romance as the only valid option, but I'm not talking about those, every fandom has its radicals.

This is not an argument of whether romantic is better than platonic or vice versa. And it's not an argument of whether solas cares more for a romanced inquisitor versus a befriended one. He cares deeply in both cases. It's about the fact that, narratively speaking, the romance delivers a far greater impact to the character and the story than the high approval run.

[starlsen]

The Whisper That I Know

Fem!Rook x Emmrich Volkarin ✶ NSFW ✶ 2.4k words

Read on AO3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Rook was feeling tightly wound.

It certainly could be due to the journey she and her companions had found themselves on, searching high and low for something, anything to help them stop Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain from blighting the world. Perhaps the fighting was taking its toll on her body; whether it was darkspawn, demons, the Venatori or the Antaam… from battling the guardians in Arlathan Forest to clearing the blight from the Hossberg Wetlands, it was relentless. Unforgiving. Exhausting.

Quieter days were few and far between, leaving little time to unwind and recover before doing it all again the next day.

She dragged herself up the stairs, her feet like lead in her boots, each step a herculean effort. She rolled her shoulders, rubbed her neck with one hand and gripped the balustrade with the other, longing for a hot bath to soak her aching muscles and try, if only for a short while, to forget any of this was happening.

As she reached the top of the stairs, however, a flicker of green caught her eye and she paused, her gaze falling upon the statues that beckoned her towards the quarters she had become very familiar with in recent weeks. Thoughts of bright hazel eyes, secret smiles and hushed whispers settled over her, quickly giving way to thoughts of laced fingers pressed into silk sheets, breathless moans and lips trailing kisses on skin.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, letting it out slowly as she tried not to think about how long it had been since she’d felt his hands on her; how long it had been since she was kissed like it was the last time he’d ever do so. She suddenly became very aware of the tension in her shoulders, the longing in her heart, the throbbing ache between her legs.

She sighed.

Yes, she was feeling tightly wound indeed. And despite knowing she should probably head straight for her own quarters for a hot bath and a good night’s sleep, she instead found herself knocking on Emmrich’s door, opening it upon hearing his voice on the other side.

And there he was. Sitting by the fire, one leg crossed over the other, a book was cradled in his hands - Gods, his beautiful hands - his jewellery glittering in the firelight as he slipped a bookmark between the pages and peered over towards where she closed the door behind her.

“Darling,” He greeted, rising to his feet and oh, he wasn’t wearing his usual waistcoat. Rook swallowed. “I thought you’d be resting?” The decorative chain was missing from his shirt collar, which he’d unbuttoned to the base of his throat, exposing his neck and she was sure it had never looked more inviting. He looked utterly ethereal bathed in the warm glow of the fire and her lips parted at the sight before meeting his gaze, already crossing the space between them.

“Rook?”

She took the book from his hands and leaned around him to drop it onto the armchair, returning her gaze to his own before leaning up onto the tips of her toes, taking his face in her hands and pulling him into a kiss. Not a moment later, she felt his hands on her hips, and she pressed her body into his as she parted her lips to kiss him again. Gods, she'd missed this; the way he smelled, the way his lips felt on hers, the way he tasted. She pulled back just slightly, their breaths mingling between parted lips.

“I don’t need sleep,” She whispered, nuzzling his nose with her own. “I need you.”

His eyes searched her own for just a moment before they darkened and fell to her mouth, leaning in and capturing her lips in an open-mouthed kiss. He brought a hand up to cradle her jaw, the other winding around her middle and pulling her tightly against him. But then the hand pressing into the middle of her back stilled, and Emmrich pulled back slightly, earning a small sound of protest from Rook as she leaned in to chase his lips.

“Darling,” He said gently, fingers applying a slight pressure to the side of her neck, thumb brushing along her jaw. “You feel tense.” Violet eyes met his own, the light of the fire igniting the small ring of amber encircling her pupils.

“Nothing you can’t fix.” She said, sliding her hands down to the buttons on his shirt. A breathy chuckle escaped him, then, before placing his hands over her own, stilling her. Her brow came together, but he offered her a smile and brushed a chaste kiss to the corner of her lips.

“Lie down,” He said, and a moment later her brow relaxed, the smallest hint of a smile softening her features.

“Okay.” He stepped back to allow her to do so, settling on the thick, soft rug by the fireplace and watched as he slid the gold cuff from his forearm, and removing the leather glove underneath, setting both on top of the book on the armchair. The sight of his bare fingers tightened something in her core, and she willed her heart to slow down when he turned his attention to her once more, running his eyes down her body. His gaze was slow, purposeful, analysing, and she propped herself up on her elbows.

“There is something I would like to try,” Maker, his voice had dropped an octave. “Do you trust me, Rook?” Her chest tightened.

“You know I do.” He glanced down at her body again, and she quirked a brow. “What are you-”

She gasped, heat flooding to her cheeks as a phantom touch suddenly pressed against her core, fingers stroking over her leather pants. A familiar green glow emanated between her legs, his magic encircling his fingertips, and her chest began rising and falling quickly as her heart started beating a little harder, a little faster.

“H-how,” She breathed, fighting the urge to rock against the gentle, rhythmic pressure as he approached her.

“There are a great many things my magic can do, my dear.” He said as he knelt before her, and she inhaled sharply when she felt lips on her neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin just below her ear. Her eyes fluttered, holding his gaze as he crawled over her, desire coiling tightly within her, squeezing and burning and aching as he settled between her legs. “And I think it’s high time I showed you.”

She surged forward to kiss him, needing to kiss him, and let out a frustrated whine when he placed a jewelled hand on her chest and gently pushed her back.

“Relax.” She laid back as instructed, and he offered her a smile before sliding his hand down her abdomen, raising the other and rolling his fingers before his magic placed a kiss on the other side of her neck. A breathless moan escaped her lips with a sigh and his fingers brushed along the hem of her shirt, tugging it out of her pants and popping the buttons one by one.

“You are holding so much tension, my darling,” He mused. Cool air met the bare skin of her chest as he opened her shirt, and she watched as he leaned down to press a kiss to her sternum, his eyes never leaving her own. “It simply won’t do.” She couldn’t help the wicked grin that spread across her lips, and his own turned up in a devilish smirk in return.

“Is that so?” She whispered, and he hummed before pressing his lips to her abdomen. Her eyes slipped shut, tipping her head back and arching into his touch, reaching to thread her fingers through his hair. Her fingertips had barely brushed his silken strands before a phantom touch gripped her wrists, raising her hands above her head and pinning them to the floor. Her breath rushed from her lungs, and she felt him smile against her stomach as his lips trailed lower still, fingers gripping the waistband of her pants and underwear.

“Up.” Was his only command and she lifted her hips obediently as he tugged them down her thighs, using his magic to slip off her boots and remove her pants and underwear with ease. She peered at him through her lashes to find him kneeling between her legs, eyes fixed on her sex. She blushed furiously at the hunger in his eyes and gasped sharply when he motioned with his fingers, his magic suddenly there, a tongue sliding through her folds.

“Fuck,” She moaned, throwing her head back and arching her back, pleasure surging through her core as his magic rolled over her, circling her clit, sliding rhythmically over her slit. She felt the warmth of his body over her as his fingers slipped around the back of her neck, guiding her face to his and he claimed her lips in an open mouthed kiss. She whimpered as his tongue flicked over her bottom lip, and Maker take her because there were mouths all over her body; lips trailing kisses down her neck, over her chest, along the inside of her thighs. Hands cupped her breasts, thumbs brushed over her nipples, fingers gripped her hips.

It was all she could do to moan shamelessly into the kiss, almost on the verge of sobbing, the dizzying sensations utterly overwhelming her senses as Emmrich worked his magic; it was beyond anything she could have possibly imagined, and it was him, only him. She writhed beneath him, her breaths hot and heavy between kisses, needing more, needing him.

And then he slipped a hand between her legs, his fingers becoming slick with her pleasure, and she barely had a moment to register the feeling of his digits working in tandem with the phantom touch of his magic before he slid two fingers inside her. She cried out, breaking the kiss and she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think; he curled his fingers and brushed the spot that left her body trembling, his magic still sliding a tongue over that sensitive bundle of nerves. She panted, her heart pounding in her chest, her blood like fire in her veins and roaring in her ears.

“Breathe.” He said, and she opened her eyes, damn near falling apart at the sight of his eyes appearing so dark, half-lidded, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from their kiss. She tried to catch her breath, though they came in short, sharp gasps. “Slow,” He said, voice low, and continued to steadily pump and curl his fingers inside her. “Deep.”

She nodded, words failing her, inhaling through her nose and letting it out shakily through parted lips. The smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth left butterflies swarming in the pit of her stomach, her core tightening around his fingers and he leaned in, lips barely brushing over her own.

“Good,” He murmured, threading his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “Very good, darling.” Her eyes fluttered shut once more as he pressed a kiss to her lips, and she parted them all too happily for his tongue to sweep in and slide against her own.

Mouths pressed against her neck and shoulders, teeth gently grazed her earlobes, hands massaged her breasts and tongues swept over her nipples; she arched into the touch, the featherlight caresses along her thighs, the fingers digging into her hips.

Something pulsed inside her. A strangled moan tried to escape her throat, muffled by his kiss, as tendrils of his magic spread within her, draping themselves over her core and pulsing rhythmically against that spot, again and again and again as he pumped his fingers harder, faster. She wasn’t sure if she was moaning or sobbing as tears burned behind closed lids, the pleasure mounting rapidly, her entire body tightening and trembling and oh, he was relentless. The magical restraints slid from her wrists to lace phantom fingers through her own, pressing them harder into the floor above her head. His kiss was punishing, bruising, swallowing her cries; and when he moaned into the kiss, that was all it took to push her over the edge. She tightened around his fingers, her thighs squeezing his hips, and the air was forced from her lungs in a silent scream as her mouth fell open and he took her bottom lip between his teeth.

Her orgasm erupted, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing through her entire body so ferociously it left her toes curling and fire coursing through her veins. Her ears were ringing and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think; relief came when her lungs opened and she gulped down air, sweet, precious air, and she was certain that in that moment, the world stopped spinning and the earth shattered around them.

“That’s it,” He purred, brushing his thumb over her cheek, trailing kisses along her jaw as his praise melted away any lingering tension in her body. “Let it go, darling.” Her pleasure slowed to a gentle ebb and flow as his magic calmed and she whimpered as he eased his fingers out of her sex. Her heart was racing and she felt the grip loosening from her hands, though she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t speak; she simply laid there, catching her breath, her chest rising and falling as his magic left her body and it was just the warmth of the fire and his body over hers.

She felt his fingertips brush a strand of hair from her forehead before cradling her cheek with his hand, and she turned into his touch, pressing a kiss to his palm. His breath was warm and ghosted over her cheek as he chuckled.

“Rook,” He said gently, and she hummed, nuzzling into his hand, his rings cool against her skin. “Look at me, my love.” Her eyes opened slowly, though remained half-lidded as she obliged him, violet meeting rich hazel, and she smiled. He returned the gesture, fine lines branching from his eyes as he did so, and she positively swooned as her heart soared in her chest.

“You are so beautiful.” She said, bringing her hands from above her head to hold his own that still cradled her cheek. His brows rose slightly before a bashful laugh escaped his lips as she leaned into his touch, into his warmth, and sighed. “That was…” She trailed off, and he bit his lip briefly before smiling broadly.

“Yes, I’d hoped it would be.” She snorted, and his eyes softened before he leaned down to press a sweet kiss to her lips. “Do you feel better?” He asked, brushing his nose against her own.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk any time soon,” She quipped, and he laughed heartily. “But yes.” She sighed. “Better than ever.”

[raisin-writes]

Asking to paint their nails- Donquixote family:

sfw, no warnings, just for sillies :) read as platonic but can also be read as romantic (minus sugar- i dont care that shes 22- and dellinger, dont be a weirdo).

Doflamingo:

He prefers to call in a nail tech and have a little mani-pedi spa day with you instead.

It's nothing personal, he appreciates the thought, but if hes gonna get his nails done, he wants it to be professional.

Wants you to match with him more often than not and gets a little mad when you refuse to, but wont hold it against you for very long.

A classic french tip girlie but may mix it up with a nice pink or a light glitter overlay from time to time.

Trebol:

He'll allow it, but god does he make it an insufferable experience.

He loves messing with you by intentionally making his hand twitch/flinch/shake.

"Bweheheheh! oops, guess you gotta start over now!"

He'll finally stop when you threaten inform him that you only have so much nail polish remover left and he'll end up with messy, ugly, clumpy nails that you wont be able to fix.

He's fine with whatever you give him, just dont make it look stupid.

Diamante:

Absolutely!

He's tickled that you would want to spend time with him like that.

Requests things like flashy white or gold stars, sparkly reds, or a nice baby blue to match his eyes.

A little bit of a stickler about your technique, but he wont be too hard on you if you mess up.

It's just nail polish after all.

Surprisingly will want to paint yours in return to match his.

His technique is ironically not that great.

Pica:

...... Reluctantly agrees.

He's silent as he watches you work, but his gaze is very intimidating and scrutinous.

Kind of a mouth breather, dont comment on it or he'll get mad at you.

If you ask him very nicely, he'll let you experiment on his toe nails, painting them however you want.

He's satisfied with a simple matte dark purple, but his favorite is a metallic gold- not the regular nail polish, but the holographic powder, he likes the shiny chrome finish.

Vergo:

Some days he'll say yes, sometimes its just not a good time.

He's a busy guy, he doesnt have all the time in the world to sit down and let you fiddle with his nails.

Sometimes he just doesnt want his nails painted and thats that.

On the off chance he agrees, he prefers a simple solid black or a plain white.

Giolla:

Yes, but she's such a karen about it.

So passive-aggressive and indecisive.

Makes you never want to paint her nails again.

Likes loud, contrasting colors and sometimes fun stencil patterns.

She usually compliments your work after its over, but will sometimes make a back-handed comment if she isn't completely satisfied with the results.

Lao G:

Surprisingly agrees to it.

However, shaky hands make for many mistakes.

Dont bother putting a top coat on.

regardless of the outcome, he'll give you a thumbs up and a "GREAT WITH A CAPITAL G!"

Gladius:

Bully him into it a little and he'll cave.

He's used to this, having been the test subject for a younger Baby 5 when she first got into nails.

At least you seem to know what you're doing, comparatively.

Prefers plain black but can be swayed into dark colored marbling with gold flecks.

Machvise:

Another test subject for young Baby 5's nail journey, and Dellinger's.

He thinks it's funny to walk around with bright, obnoxious nails, but really could care less what you give him.

He actually kinda liked the time you gave him pizza slice nails.

Draws the line at press-on nails.

Sugar:

Allows it, but will very bluntly tell you you're doing it wrong.

The best compliment you will get from her is, "its not the worst."

She likes when you put cute stickers and stencils on a pretty pastel blue color.

Señor Pink:

Needs to be lead to believe it was his idea, otherwise the answer is no.

Watches intently, doesnt speak much.

Sucks his pacifier suddenly from time to time and the sound in the otherwise silent room makes you flinch.

He doesnt have any preferences, but appreciates when you make the color match his bonnet.

Might make you do his toe nails too so they match.

Viola:

Of course!

Her favorite is a dark mauve with white hand-painted flowers on the thumbs and/or ring fingers.

Dont worry if you cant paint the flowers correctly, she still appreciates it all the same.

She'll ask to paint yours in return.

Dellinger:

Slay 💅✨

You can use his nail polish.

Teases you if you mess up but genuinely starts to get annoyed if you make too many mistakes.

Likes cat-eye and holographic effects; don't worry, hes got the magnets and powders for it.

If he's feeling generous, he'll return the favor, but he might give you what he thinks would look good instead of what you want.

Buffalo:

Nuh-uh, no way.

......... Unless?

Easy to bribe into getting his nails painted.

Lets you paint them however you want, as long as you fullfill your end of the deal.

Baby 5:

Yes!!!

She loves getting her nails painted.

She'll even paint yours, however you want them!

She likes lace tips, but can easily be swayed if you think something else would look better on her.

(Please be kind to her; if you really must, meet her in the middle so she still gets what she wants.)

Bonus:

Bellamy:

Beg him over the course of a week and he'll eventually cave, but only his toe nails where nobody will see them.

Prefers plain black or navy blue colors.

Is very fidgety and uncomfortable the entire time.

(ironically, he doesnt like people touching his feet (he's ticklish))

Groans and complains, asking every 5 minutes if you're done yet.

Such a big baby.

Corazon:

Yes!!!

He's giddy at the thought, he would love for you to paint his nails.

Really, he just likes the quality time he gets to spend with you.

His favorite is a dark plum color with soft pink heart stencils.

He'll offer to paint yours in return, but knowing him, he'll just end up spilling a bottle or two.

Or three.

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / movies 𓈒✳︎🪜

[feel free to follow me on letterboxd eheh!]

✰ MARK — 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU

“maybe it was the dose of alcohol in your system, or maybe it was just the rush of adrenaline you got from the people of the party, but when you looked into mark’s eyes, you couldn’t conceal your feelings at all anymore. it was all just fun and games, you weren’t amused at all, hardly deciding on giving attention to his antics… but here we go now – you, ready to throw up, while listening to him speaking his mind, saying whatever he could think of, while the only thing that filled your brain was only one thing: kissing him. kissing him right there and then, in the crack of a night at some random’s place, both taking place at the rusty swing. should you do it? does he actually want you, or are these mere mixed signals?

✰ RENJUN — THE HOLDOVERS

“he could’ve sworn this was by far the best point of his stay at the campus – or, rather away from there, as both him and his teacher took a trip to boston, as it was all supposed to be, am i right? ice skating, searching for books on the street, deepish talks and a screening at the movie theatre… he felt happy, relieved even, but how long is this going to last him? how long can he rely on the sole feeling of relief when he cannot be so sure when it’s gonna end all so suddenly? is he selfish, or is he rather self conscious? his arm was hurting badly, aching, as he leaned back, deciding last minute about what he wants to do – “i need a bathroom break” is all he says.”

✰ JENO — FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL

“he had to rub his eyes so hardly when he spotted you, ever so beautiful and ethereal in your light pink dress, smile so charming his heart wouldn’t stop beating way too hardly against his chest. he wouldn’t have thought you two would meet ever again, but here you were – a wedding (again), which was pretty much unwanted and rushed, but he couldn’t even think about how much of a bad choice it was from his best friend to marry this early. all he could focus on was the way you softly talked to one of the guests, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you simply nodded. you only looked up for a minute, maybe two at that, but you definitely noticed jeno’s gaze on yourself. you mouthed something at him, which took him a few moments to solve properly, caught off guard by the never forgotten beauty of yours. “i missed you, jeno”

✰ HAECHAN — NOTTING HILL

“when you looked at him, barely even paying a glance, his breath instantly got taken away by the sight of you. not only because of the fact that you were a top actress, wandering into his bookshop, but because you were stunning as well, glowing, brightly shining in front of him, seemingly searching for something through the shelves, sunglasses sitting atop of your nose. he could’ve easily just take a few steps closer to you, even offer some help, but he was way too flustered to even mutter his name if you asked him. but why would that even happen, right? he’s nothing, compared to you – an angel, he cannot quite capture. and then you came up to the counter, three books in hands… well, maybe he could…”

✰ JAEMIN — BEFORE SUNRISE

“standing next to the train, which would take him to paris, he simply just looked at you, stars in eyes and blush on cheeks, as he reached for your hands, thumbs caressing the back of them ever so slowly – his forehead against yours, you could breathe in the unsaid words that were playing on his lips endlessly, and you could’ve just kissed him, kissed him once and then a thousand times more, so he would never leave. but he had to leave, leave vienna behind, leave the journey behind, leave you and the mesmerizing feeling of blooming love between the two of you. his eyes were rather teary, as you bore into them. “we have to meet here again” you said, both hands on his cheeks, eyes full of certainity. you want this, more than anything. “ten years from now – the same place, the same feelings, the…” would that happen? ever again?”

✰ CHENLE — LITTLE WOMEN

“was he actually interested in the play you wrote or not, you did not even care, as you saw the way his eyes formed such definite half moon shapes, smile so bright and wide, you’d never seen such beautiful sight. he laughed so loudly that it was echoing in the almost empty attic for way too long, as you kept on acting with your sisters, relentlessly and enthusiastically, staying in role even after you saw chenle, wiping his tears of laughter. you took it as a sign – he liked it, he enjoyed it, which was all you needed to be reassured: you did good. not only you, as the writer, but your sisters too, little actresses and primadonnas. chenle wanted to say something, he was keen on letting you know whatever was going through his mind, but he kept it to himself. maybe later, maybe on a different day – maybe when he gathers his courage to tell you he’s madly in love with you?”

✰ JISUNG — DEAD POETS SOCIETY

“with utter and undeniable admiration, jisung simply just looked up from the trembling hands of his, that were previously laying on the crumpled piece of paper he had torn out from his notebook - he wrote the poem with pencil so the letters seemed and were pretty much smudged, but he didn’t even need the paper itsel, he knew his creation by heart, as he rewrote it thousands of times because of sheer anxiety. he wanted it to be perfect, he wanted it to sound like something whitman would adore, something rilke would’ve written in those early years. when his teacher’s voice finally reached his ears, he simply stood up, legs shaking, as he walked out to the front, barely being able to form words, as the fright got over him - “do it, son, i believe in you” was all he heard - he sighed, and then… ��unbeknownst to me the feeling of…”

[goddessofroyalty]

So this was based on a silly joke I have in my head about hormonal birth control not working for omega!Sanji for (spoilers) reasons and him and Zoro then ending up with 3 kids on the pirate journey because they keep breaking condoms.

Anyway this is just them finally making it back to the Baratie and having to face up to Zeff about it (from Zeff’s POV)

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji

Tags: omegaverse, mpreg

---------

Zeff will admit he is slightly surprised at the swell in Sanji’s stomach when he showed up again as part of what seems to be the new Pirate King and crew’s Victory Tour.

It’s not that Eggplant had given him no indication of it – he had been getting more and more jittery every damn time he’d gotten in touch as the Strawhats made their various stops before reaching the Baratie. Saying how some things had happened during his travels and that he’d needed to talk to Zeff about them in person. But Zeff had assumed it was to do with his damnable family. Not that his woman-obsessed omega son had gone and got himself knocked up. By an alpha, going by the new layer of scent clinging on top of the one he remembers to be Sanji’s.

And, because wonder’s don’t fucking cease, they’ve only just gotten through their tearful hug when a little green-haired girl comes running over. Clinging to Eggplants leg and staring up at Zeff with curious, familiar, blue eyes.

“I thought you were staying on the ship Princess?” Eggplant says, brushing a hand through her hair. And Zeff is equally sure that actually Sanji told her to stay on the ship as he is that his boy was as much a pushover to his daughter as he had been any woman who had stepped foot into the Baratie before he left.

“You know she wasn’t gonna’ as soon as she found out this was your old home.” And there was the newly minted World’s Greatest Swordsman and apparently sire to Zeff’s grandkids walking in like it had been his home as well and not the place he had gotten nearly cut in half by the former owner of the title.

And, fucks sake, there was another little one resting on his hips as he does it with that same matching green hair.

“I do remember teaching you about the importance of making them wrap it,” Zeff grumbles, because going by the age of the older one the two it hadn’t been all that long after Sanji left that he had gotten himself knocked up. “I know you said you weren’t planning on getting with any alphas but I know you were still listening.”

Eggplant goes red at it before glaring at Roronoa who gives a grin back that is entirely too filthy and leaves Zeff sure that he doesn’t actually want to know.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Zeff asks more to move the topic away from his kid’s sex life before he finds out more about it than he wants to.

They had been exchanging letters and calls on and off the whole time and never once had Eggplant mentioned that he was going to be or had become a granddad in any of them.

“I did try to but I couldn’t say anything too direct in case it got intercepted,” Sanji explains, resting a protective hand over his middle while the other curls around the girl at his side.

It makes some degree of sense. Best way to keep the two, soon to be three, pups from being a target is to have nobody know they exist in the first place.

Maybe Zeff should have guessed something like this was up when Sanji had asked him how he had dealt with the stress of raising a kid in the dangerous world they lived in. But he had just assumed his boy had finally matured enough to realize how much of an antagonistic dumbass he had been at times.

“I did want to tell you though,” Sanji continues, his voice guilty.  

Roronoa has moved close to his mate’s side, not touching though. Which is probably what Sanji actually wants – always had been a bit funny about any too direct an offer of comfort. Something Zeff’s probably as much to blame for as anything else in his life.

“You have no idea how many times I nearly did.”

“Probably for the best you didn’t,” Zeff says because he can’t have his kid feeling guilty for doing the smart thing. “I don’t know if I’d have been able to keep away if you did.”

Neither he nor his ship these days are made for the journey to the Grand Line. And it wouldn’t have been good for Sanji or the rest of the crew of his to have an old pirate getting underfoot while they were making names for themselves on history’s pages.

“Hell, I’m gonna’ struggle letting you sail off with my grandkids with you now. You better come visit more than you have been!” He doesn’t actually hold it against them and damn well know the reason why this is the first time he’s seen them since Sanji left to join a pirate crew. But he still missed years of his grandkids lives as a result and they had better make up for it.

[jisokai]

At (y)our own pace

Sero wants to make sure you know that it's okay to go about intimacy however you need, at your own pace. It's your journey, not anyone else's.

Given your previous relationships, it takes some getting used to.

sero hanta x GN reader

[aged-up characters] slight nsfw, references to past dub-con (not between pair), use of explicit consent, emphasis on processing past relationships and developing boundaries with intimacy, queerplatonic relationships/can be read as fwb; hurt/comfort, angst but also fluff i promise 14.2k words | oneshot, complete, can be standalone part 2 of a sort-of-series: "healing my inner teenager" [part 1]

notes: smidge of kiribaku and references to past kamisero

ao3 option

The first time Sero reaches for you you're nineteen, a summer intern for a hero agency’s news department. Your desks are on opposite sides of the room, but close enough for him to stop by whenever he enters or exits the fourth floor. He has to catch your attention every time—footsteps too soft to alert you—usually with a knock against the top of your desk. The sound is firm enough to pull you from your computer, knowing that it's him.

Those soft raps against the desk always come from a hand that starts outstretched before curling in on itself in apprehension. Consideration, in case you don't care for a tap on the shoulder. Today is no different. He makes his little noise and gives you a sheepish smile at the beginning of the day, a few weeks into your internship. His knuckles thump in tune with his heartbeat, excited. Nervous.

"Hey," he calls gently when you look up. "Wanna grab some dinner after work today?"

You immediately smile at the idea. You two have spoken frequently in your short time here, but always on the job and never for long. It'd be nice to have a real conversation, drawn out over food and spilling into the night. You wish you had asked first.

"I'd love that," you say honestly. "Are your friends joining?"

His smile fades a little at your question and you wonder if you said something wrong. Before you can ask, he tells you, "I wasn't planning on it. I was thinking more of a… date. Just us."

You blink at the admission, surprised. Sero is cute, enough that you’re aware of your own attraction whenever he’s around. He's friendly and makes an effort to help you feel welcomed as someone new to the agency. He's a passionate guy, while laid back in a way that lets you know he's sure of himself. But you don't know each other well enough to think about things like dating. 

Although you suppose that's the point of a date, to get more acquainted.

Sero watches your face nervously, worrying he got the signals wrong. You seem excited to see him anytime he comes by, a little more interested in what he has to say over Denki or Shinsou if they're with him. He reasons now that those interactions don't necessarily mean you're interested in him in that way. 

You respond before he can backtrack. "Okay," you say, still smiling. "But let's get dinner as a group sometime too."

His shoulders drop in relief, he didn't realize they were tense. "For sure," He says with a smile, but then it wavers. "Do...do you not want to? Go alone with me, I mean. It's okay if you're not interested. I don't mean to make you feel cornered."

You pause at the question. The open invitation to back out. You think for a second before you answer, hoping the hesitation doesn't betray your conviction. "I want to spend time with you, alone."

He smiles at you sweetly.

The first time the two of you make physical contact is that evening. It's while you're walking down the street, side-by-side to an okonomiyaki stand he frequents, him promising you that you're about to eat the best you ever have. The two of you are bantering, lighthearted, and the narrowness of the sidewalk forces you closer. Sero walks a pace behind you to avoid the bumping of your shoulders, which keeps a reasonable distance until another pedestrian walks the opposite way. You drift a little to the side to make room for them to pass, but the change in speed is enough for Sero to gently bump into you from behind, his shoulder pressing into your back before he immediately pulls away.

"Sorry," he mumbles. 

You don't think it's a big deal, but you notice how he is around you: walking on eggshells to avoid direct contact. Always a greeting of your name or a knock on the desk, never a touch or tap to get your attention. It's the opposite of the way he is with Denki or Shinsou, often purposefully trying to spook them with a grab from behind. It's endearing to you, the sort of intimacy you can feel yourself start to hope for. So it's confusing, the way he is around you. How he treats you differently.

You think about the other people in the office, how he acts around them. Distant, respectful. It's similar to how he is with you. But it's also different: there is never apprehension on his face. You wonder what that could mean. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he asked you to dinner. A date. You think about the last man you dated, someone who grabbed you easily and without question. Someone who always guessed it was a yes unless you had the courage to say an explicit no. You swallow and continue forwards to the restaurant.

The dates are...okay. You go on a few in the next couple weeks, always after work. Casual, lighthearted. You love Sero's company, getting to know him better. He's a comforting presence. Honest, open, rolls with the punches and never spends a moment in shame, it seems. He also has a snarkiness and a bite that isn't as apparent at work, though he's good at keeping it moderate. You think you have a lot to learn from him. You think it makes sense for you to be together like this.

But there's a tension, an awkwardness whenever it comes to his romantic gestures. You find the way he holds the door for you sweet, but leaves an unsettled feeling in your stomach. The same for his compliments—he can be quite the flirt, when he foots the bill, when he gives you your preferred side of the popsicle at the conbini. It's not that he holds any ill-intentions, at least not that you know of. But there's something about these gestures, what you think they mean beyond the fact that they happen, what more he could want. It leaves you feeling uncomfortable, like you have an expectation to live up to.

Maybe by now you're close enough that you could ask. You’d like to think you could share what you're feeling and be met with understanding. You want to, want to give Sero that opportunity to respond and prove you right. But part of you remembers conversations in the past, looks of disappointment when you voiced these kinds of thoughts, faces staring at you with the hurt of a broken promise, one you didn't know you made. You have some faith that your time with Sero has built something stronger than a repeat of whatever those past things were. But you don't know for sure. You've only known this guy for a month.

But Sero...Sero can sense your distance. He can tell there are words you aren't letting out, ones you try to keep at the base of your throat since you can't swallow them down.

"Is something going on?" he asks at the end of an evening together. You look at him with surprise, and a little apprehension. But you know that tone, the one that says you don't have to reply.

You huff, "You have some sort of intuition for this stuff, huh?" He doesn't respond, just shrugs. It gives you the courage to be honest.

"I—I think I'm just feeling kind of weird. About us, I guess."

It's all you can muster, and you immediately know it's not enough. It's the perfect amount of vague to make any man nervous. But you're surprised to see him look at you not with interrogation or accusation, but curiosity. A request for you to elaborate. So he can understand, maybe make things better.

"I really like spending time with you," you say first, to make sure that’s clear. "I've been excited by how close we've gotten in just a month of working together, and I feel like we're the kind of people who just click. But...I think there's something about the dates that make me nervous, like you're expecting something from me. I'm pretty bad at these kinds of relationships, I don't read between the lines well. And I guess I don't want to disappoint you, if you like me in that way."

Sero looks surprised for a moment, but then his face schools into realization. Like pieces are falling into place. It's only a moment before he speaks, calmly and without judgement.

"I think I noticed. Not exactly what you just said, but I got the sense that you're uncomfortable around me sometimes. I figured maybe I was coming on too strong, or that you just weren't that interested in me." He doesn't look upset as he speaks, which is more worrying. Like he’s hiding his actual thoughts.

But he's not, you tell yourself. You remember that this is Sero, open and honest and rolls with the punches.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, ignoring his confused look. "I think I'm just confused, and I don't really know how to talk about it in a way that can get at what I'm feeling. But I like being with you. I just don't think I can handle the expectations that come with a relationship."

"Oh.” He doesn't look hurt or upset. "Well that makes it easier, then."

You look at him, pause your step. Your confused face triggers one of his own.

"Let's just be friends then, yeah?" He asks. "Or is that not okay?"

It's your turn to say, "Oh." Relief. You didn't expect that. You say as much, "I didn't—is that okay? I guess I assumed that...you wouldn't want to be friends anymore."

He frowns. "Why wouldn't I? I like spending time with you. I'd love to stay friends, and it sounds like you'd be more comfortable that way."

It seems so easy with Sero. He just gets it. You're waiting for the catch.

"You...you're not gonna hold out hope or anything, right? That things will change at some point and I'll fall in love with you or something."

His frown remains, "No of course not, why would—is that what people usually do?"

You shrug. It's all you know, people's sense of entitlement to you just because they felt a certain way. Whether it's your body or your touch or your mental space; your feelings to be returned. You know disappointment or even anger when they don’t get what they want. Like you were supposed to change for them, will yourself to love them.

Sero wants to probe, to ask more and understand what you're suggesting. He just liked you from the beginning, wanted to get to know you. He felt happy enough to talk and get food and work next to each other, to be involved in each other's lives. Instead he tells you, "Let's just be friends. I like being with you, hanging out and talking. I don't expect or need anything more, I've just...liked being in your space."

It makes you look at him in a new light, want to grab his hand or hug him. It doesn't make sense to you, that as soon as he decides to remove the romantic implications that you start to feel magnetized towards him. But you nod and agree, the weight of the world lifting from your shoulders.

Your relationship with Sero doesn't change much after that conversation, other than the lowering of your guard. You feel at ease with his platonic touch, happy to lean into him. He swings an arm over your shoulder as you walk to dinner and gives you a hug when you separate for the night. His flirtations persist, but they’re just part of the banter. It's comforting, familiar. Denki wiggles his eyebrows at the two of you at first, but Sero's eyeroll and dismissal gives you confidence that there's no question on his part. You feel safe, seen.

You and Sero keep close contact even after you leave the agency to return to university. You share moments from each other's days, random shower thoughts, ask each other for advice. You hang out on days off, and even when you're cramming for exams he's just happy to sit and lounge beside you, sometimes working on a report or request of his own. 

It goes on like this for a couple years, as best friends. Even when he moves from Shizuoka to Tokyo to switch agencies, you make it work. You have your conflicts and your disagreements, but you're inseparable. It's open, free for either of you to say anything, no judgement and no expectations. Sometimes the hugs are longer or you cuddle closer than usual, whether it's for comfort on a particularly bad day or for no clear reason at all. Sometimes there's a kiss on the cheek, if you haven't seen each other in a while. Sometimes you hold hands. But it just is, you two just are.

When you graduate you get a job offer at a new branch of Juko. It's in Tokyo. The decision is obvious, crystal clear when Sero tells you that you should room with him; he's planning to renew his lease soon, and his place is only a couple districts away from their office. You accept the offer that day.

Living with Sero feels like what you should have done all along. You fill in each other's gaps when it comes to the decoration and the chores (you hate vacuuming and Sero avoids doing the laundry, but neither of you mind the other). It works out. Any disagreements resolve easily and there's never an opportunity for resentment. Because it's the two of you. Sero, honest and open and rolls with the punches.

The first time you kiss him, you're twenty-two. You aren't sure where the feeling comes from—not that you hadn't thought about it before—but it washes over you when you're sitting together quietly: you reading a novel and him scrolling through his phone. You're distracted, can't read two sentences and retain what they said. You glance at him at the end of every attempt.

You don't mean to ask, but it's normal for you to blurt whatever you're thinking around him.

"Hey don't take this the wrong way, but...can I try kissing you?"

He looks surprised, eyes immediately darting to yours as he asks, "Me?"

You laugh, "Yes you. You can say no, I'm just curious."

There's a small smile tugging at his lips, like he's embarrassed. But he says, "Okay. Why?"

You move to put your book on the table and sit up so you're closer to him. Sero does the same, then grasps your hands in his. They tingle at the contact.

"I think sometimes I want to be closer to you," you admit. "And a hug isn't enough. I'm just curious, I guess."

He looks happy, a little flushed at your words. "I want to be closer to you too. Let's try it, no expectations, yeah?"

You lean forward hesitantly, anxious as you remember it's been a while since you've had this sort of intimacy with someone. But it's Sero, and if it's bad you'll just acknowledge that and move on as normal. He looks nervous too, which helps calm you.

You close your eyes when your lips touch, pressing gently. It's new, exciting. His lips are soft and warm, and they move slowly against yours. You can feel him smile against your mouth, and it makes you break away with a giggle. When you open your eyes, he's smiling at you, softly and warmly.

"That was nice," he says quietly. "What do you think?"

"I think I liked it. It's kind of awkward, though."

He hums, urging you to explain what you mean.

"I think it makes me a little self conscious," you try to explain. "It's definitely a way to feel closer, but being closer means there's more to be seen. Or felt, I guess."

Sero thinks he understands; he had a similar experience at first. But he enjoyed the moment.

You ask him, "Would you be okay doing it again in the future?"

He nods immediately.

You don't kiss often, it turns out. It happens occasionally, not becoming a routine touch like a hug when you get home or forehead kiss before bed. Mouth kisses are sparse, a little more special, you think. It's partially because they're still awkward for you, not the level of closeness you want all the time. But it's also partially because you realize you sometimes want the adjacent touches more than the kiss itself: the way Sero gently holds your face before leaning forwards, the press of your bodies against each other when it's particularly passionate, when he grabs both your hands like that first time on the couch.

Sero, however, very much enjoys kissing. But he's not sad without it, rolling with the punches. Open, honest. When he wants a kiss he asks for it, but he tells you he doesn't need a warning if you want to kiss him. You like it this way, this low stakes slotting of preferences like puzzle pieces. It makes you feel safe.

You do learn that making out comes with a whole new territory of anxiety. The first time it happens is a few weeks after the first kiss, when you experimentally bite his lip and then run your tongue along it. Sero makes a noise of surprise and lets his own tongue slip through, brushing against yours. It's okay, manageable at first when the tongues are kept sparse. But when it heats up some more you pull away panting, making a face.

"Not into it?" Sero asks, amused and unbothered. Again, easy going. Safe.

"I think I was at first, but I don't get why people like using so much tongue." You think about your last serious relationship, a woman who ran her tongue along your gums and every crevice of your mouth. It sounded like the nonsense you used to read in romance novels, but it was uncomfortable when you actually experienced it.

Sero hums, "I think it's fun on my end, but I get why it's weird if you're the one receiving it."

That makes sense, you suppose. But now you're thinking about the larger picture. Making out always meant sex was coming, to your knowledge. If your kissing resulted in a boner it had to get taken care of one way or the other. You frown.

"Are we...is this still friend territory?" You ask.

He shrugs, "I don't see why not."

It sends a thrill through you, this no-expectation dance of intimacy. But you still think about the implications, the...end goal.

"Are you—Do you..." they're hard, these words. "We don't have to do anything else, right? Just because we made out."

His immediately frowns, looking at you with disbelief. "What? Of course not. Who...Did someone tell you otherwise?"

Your cheeks warm at the question; he asked it like you should know better. Maybe you should.

"Just past relationships, I guess," you admit. "I don't wanna jump into anything I'm not ready for yet, even if maybe I should be by now." You think of one night stands—spurred on by the excitement of kissing someone you were interested in at the bar, or a first date that was moving quicker than you anticipated. Not wanting to disappoint, willing to sacrifice your preferred pace.

You remember your first time, losing your virginity uncomfortably because you didn't have the confidence to ask for what you wanted. Wishing it could instead be the perfect wordless and romantic night your first serious boyfriend laid out for himself.

Sero's frown deepens. You avert your eyes, embarrassed. "Hey," he calls, a plea for you to look at him while he takes your hands. "There's no should here, only what you are or aren't ready for. What you want to do, what I want to do, and the compromise we make between those things, okay? And that compromise will always be because we want it, not because we think we should want it. And it will never sacrifice your feelings of safety."

Where was this man six years ago, you wonder. Busy cramming and getting his ass beat to make it as a hero. He's too good, you think. Overwhelmingly so that you don't know how to respond.

"It isn't some incredible consideration," he adds. "It's the bare minimum."

He's wiping small tears from your eyes, ones you didn't know were falling. He holds your face in that way you love, makes you feel small and protected, and brings his lips to your cheeks. You realize he's licking your tears between kisses, causing you to giggle and scrunch your nose in disgust.

"Hanta—" you try to whine, cutting yourself off with more laughter. He smiles back in earnest, not amusement.

"Thanks," you say. "It's a delayed learning process for me."

"Of course." Of course. He thinks about that early conversation, when he realized friendship was best based on your apprehension. The way he's always just been happy to be by you, in your space and presence. The constant pull to be closer to you, one that overpowered the gravity he felt for anyone else (even if he gave them a thorough chance).

At the end of the day it's you he wants to be with. And he knows you feel the same, that he's your best friend, your rock, though more of a mountain unwavering in the wind and storm. It makes his heart warm, and full enough to feel somewhat painful.

"I love you," he says abruptly. Heartfelt, shameless, with a soft smile. You pause, surprised, heart thumping loudly in your ears. "It doesn't have to mean anything other than that. I just love you and love being with you, anyway you'll have me. I want to make sure you know. So...take your time. And there's no intimacy goal we're trying to achieve, other than what we want."

You kiss him again, pulled to him by your need to show him something, demonstrate the way you feel. 

"I love you too," you say easily. "Not...not the romance or whatever because you're attractive and easy to be around. But because my life is better, with you in it."

You find a kiss is still not enough, even when you do it a second time and pull away to look at him. Your hands clutch his as you try to understand this yearning. What more you could want? Again, the stupid irony—how his reassurance that you don't have to go any further is what propels you forward, gives you the courage to try again or something more. But you stop yourself, hold your ground to acknowledge your fears. Sero is more than the excitement of trying something new. Honoring your pace here means honoring his importance in your life. So you push down that urge to pull him closer for now, letting it wait for another day when you've had space to reflect.

Sero knows that you're emotionally grounded: able to talk through feelings and conflict with relative ease compared to what he's used to. You catch stray comments and things hiding between the lines of conversation, never letting anything go unacknowledged or unrefuted (if you disagree). You often know what to say, or alternatively know when silent listening is enough. You know your self, and how to regulate it. It's refreshing, it's relieving.

It's surprising just how bad you are when it comes to talking about your struggles with intimacy.

He notices the way you tense, your discomfort and the inability to speak without hesitation. The looks that cross your features: guilt, doubt, fear sometimes. The way you can't stop thinking about whether you two are within the realm of 'just friends'.

It's not always bad, you can usually still communicate things openly. But it's oftentimes after an uncharacteristic bite or defensiveness that emerges seemingly without warning. Sero thinks he just needs time, that he doesn't understand the pattern well enough to recognize the warnings, yet. It makes him think of Bakugou, a comparison you made yourself when you finally tagged along for a night with the crew at an izakaya—at least a comparison with a younger, more angry version of you.

So it's Kirishima he turns to when he needs another perspective. Kirishima, the closest friend with an inkling of emotional literacy. Kirishima who he now patrols with since starting at the Tokyo agency.

It's also Kirishima who gives him the opening, asking an innocent, "How's your roommate?" after their routine catching up.

Sero says his usual, "good," before making a sound like he wants to take it back. Kirishima cocks his head gently and Sero cracks his fingers with his thumb, wishing he didn't have his helmet so he could run his hand through his hair.

"You...you can't talk about this with the others," he starts. The look he's given lets him know the redhead won't—aside from Bakugou, of course. But Bakugou doesn't count, an extension of Kirishima by now, and the hardest of anyone to wrench information from.

So he explains, generally, the way the two of you have been recently. How you asked to kiss him, how nice it was, how it keeps happening. How sometimes they're even passionate, deep, intense. The way I love you frequents your dialogue.

Kirishima doesn't miss a beat. "That's awesome to hear man! This is the sort of thing you were hoping for, right? I remember you said the two of you tried to go out when you first met."

But Sero frowns. "No, that's not—" he thinks about the way expectations put you on edge. "I'm not just lurking around our place hoping for this. It just...it happened. It's good. And we're still friends, not trying to think about what it means beyond that."

Kirishima needs a moment for the words to settle before he smiles sheepishly. "My bad, I guess I just don't really understand what your relationship is like. But I'm happy for you, glad it's good."

Sero nods in appreciation. "Yeah, we're just rolling with whatever happens. I think...there's some trouble with past relationships that make the labeling hard for them. Makes 'friends' feel safer even if we act more like a couple at times. But yeah...I'm really happy."

Kirishima smiles, so genuine as he sees the twinkle in his friend's eye, the tint of color on his cheeks. He thinks Sero has the glow of someone in love. It makes him happy, warm. It makes him think of Bakugou.

"I think I get it. Katsuki's kind of like that—bending labels, I mean. It's more of a 'I do whatever I want' thing for him, though. I guess when I think about it..." and Kirishima is trailing off, remembering the early days of his own relationship. How anytime he felt unsure of what they were doing, what they should be doing, Bakugou just tsked, before saying: "The hell cares, we do whatever we want."

They are two men in love, patrolling the street on a beautiful day. Warm cheeks, sunlight, genuine and unembarrassed happiness for one another.

You're still twenty-two when you two are (nearly) naked together for the first time. It's not in the context of kissing and intimacy, but in the space of tense vulnerability; Sero comes home disheveled and dirty from a rough patrol, too weak and too faraway to shower or bring himself to bed.

There have been rough nights before, patrols that brought trails of dirt into your shared home, ones that made him quiet, ones that made him restless, ones that unsettled him unless he was in your arms. But never something like this.

His eyes are rimmed red when he enters, shoulders slumped, steps heavy, head tilted down as he closes the door behind him. You look for him when he doesn't announce himself, immediately approaching when you see his condition. It takes twelve hurried steps to reach him, gently cradle his face and take in his expression. All you can think is that he looks so tired. He leans into your touch sadly, unable to meet your eyes. He doesn't say anything when you call his name, doesn't respond to any of your questions of what happened.

You coax a reaction out of him when you ask if he wants to eat: a shake of the head. Then a nod when you suggest showering, so the two of you can lay together afterwards. So you take his hand and bring him to the master bathroom—his bathroom—before gently telling him you'll wait on the couch. But when you turn to leave you hear him whine, a soft noise of need. You see the way his eyes are teary, pleading. Absolutely heartbreaking.

"Don't go," he says, a cry with a broken voice. You hesitate, but nod slowly.

"Hanta, I—are you okay if I undress you? To help you shower?" You ask. You ignore the awkward implications, fully absorbed in helping your friend. At his affirmation you get to work stripping him, inspecting the skin that's revealed to you for major injury, averting your eyes when his underwear comes off. There are some ugly bruises and fresh scrapes, but you sigh in relief when he looks okay otherwise. You decide to put him in the bath, since it'll be easier to wash his hair if he's sitting. You leave the drain open so he doesn't soak in murky water, swirls of brown and red slipping away along streams of soot.

You fuss over him quickly, removing your own shirt and pants when they start to get wet, ignoring any apprehension. The process isn't uncomfortable after you commit to it and realize Sero isn't thinking anything of the nudity, too far gone to do anything but let his eyes drift to the ceiling.

When you're done you help him stand and wrap a towel around his body. You guide him to sit on his bed before turning to look for some clothes in his drawers. His arm catches you, pulling you back.

"It's fine," he says quickly, quietly. "Just...please." He tugs gently on your arm, another plea. For you to stop doing anything but hold him.

You nod and open the covers, urging him in before crawling to his side. Your own lack of clothes makes a tightness pool in your stomach, but you ignore it as you watch Sero, see how his eyes never leave your face. Your heart jumps to your throat when he reaches for you, pulls you into a close hug, closer than you've ever been before. His skin is warm from the bath and still a little damp, and you can feel it around your waist, your stomach, your legs as he intertwines them together. You ignore his hips pressing into your side, how his thigh brushes just below your groin. You feel on edge for a moment before reminding yourself that this is Sero. Hanta. The one who's always honest and open. So you relax and squeeze him in return.

Guilt punches your nerves aside when you hear him sob. The dam of whatever emotions he walled off when he first came home is broken, the waves of his hurt and fear rushing over your shared land. Here he is, in pain and incapable of verbalizing it to you while you sit in your cage of skepticism, doubting his sincerity. In this moment you feel a shift, a resolve that you can't fully identify. But you hold him close, conviction brimming in your heart.

You two have fallen asleep before, on the couch at the end of a movie night or cuddling when one comforts the other. Sometimes Sero is without his shirt or you without pants, the partial lack of clothes never a point of awkwardness. But never have the two of you laid so bare while so close. You think for a moment that this is the kind of closeness you've yearned for when a hug wasn't enough. You can feel the softness of his skin, his breath on your neck. The way you're huddled under the blankets feels like hiding from something, the larger world out there—you protecting him as these small tremors of tears wrack his body. You think your heart is being pulled towards his, pressing against your sternum as you hold him tighter. He gasps with another cry against you and it hurts to hear. You wish you knew what he needed. You hope he can feel the way your heart is reaching for him, full of that unidentified determination he inspired in you.

Things change after that night.

It's mostly on your end, and Sero notices. You're more affectionate, more willing to try to take things a little further. He stops you one day while you're kissing him passionately, frowning slightly with flushed cheeks.

"Hey, you—I don't want you to feel like I need more from you," he says with a heaving chest. "I know I'm more touchy than you in general, but really I'm okay. You shouldn't do more than you want."

You feel your body heat up, urged on by his obliviousness. You don't get it, don't get how he doesn't get it. You want him, want to be closer, want to press yourself against him like you were that night. You lean down to kiss him again, trying to show him.

"'M not," you say after a pause, going back for more. "I just—I don't know how to explain it."

You see his eyes widen at your admission, his cheeks reddening another shade. You love it, that reaction. You want him to know you want him, that you love the proximity and the closeness. He doesn't try to stop you again, welcoming your fervor. He cautiously brings his hands to your waist, to anchor himself. It makes your heart flutter, a rush of dizziness wash through your mind. You're lost in it, absorbed in a way that you've never been before. You think you might finally understand: this intensity and agitation that makes these touches move along before you realize it.

At some point you end up on his lap, straddling a thigh while you hold his face to yours. You're still comfortable, still safe.

Until you readjust and your knee brushes his crotch. It’s enough to feel that he’s hard.

You freeze immediately, body tense and heart galloping, the pressure of its pace pounding uncomfortably in your ears. Sero notices at once and pulls away, looking at you curiously and with concern.

"Hey," he says gently, trying to bring your mind back. "We don't have to go any further. It's okay, we can stop."

When you don't say anything, still sitting there frozen, he adds, "I'm not expecting anything more."

It makes your face pinch, eyes stinging as you try to swallow your tears. He doesn't understand, you think to yourself, you don't understand. How you want him, how you feel ready to try something new with him, to bring him closer. How even with that conviction and the safety of Hanta, you freeze at the moment of opportunity.

It's unfair, so unfair.

At your tears, Sero gently pushes you off his lap and runs his thumbs under your eyes. He kisses your forehead and says gently, "I want to stop." It makes you feel worse, makes that longing deepen and in turn reminds you of your inability to follow through. He doesn't press for an explanation, which makes it harder to voice it. Ask me, you call to him. I want to tell you. But chivalry will die with this man, never wanting to pressure you. So you spend the rest of the night restless, unsettled by the unspoken pieces of you. (Those people from your teenage years who saw their arousal as your responsibility, who have trained you to carry guilt anytime your answer feels like no)

Luckily, the conversation doesn't take long to appear. He asks you after a couple days, giving you some space from the situation before prying. He says he wants to check in, to make sure you're okay and gauge where your comfort is at. He admits it's because he wants to give you a kiss.

It takes everything in you to not crawl over and pin him under you. It makes you so frustrated you could pull out your hair.

"You—" you bark at first, surprising yourself. You try to speak in a leveled voice. "You are so..."

He watches as you pause again, concerned. You ball your fists, then point an accusatory finger at him.

"I want you so bad sometimes," you say before you can stop yourself, ignoring the way your face flames and the shock that appears on Sero's, flushing. "But I...I can't fucking—I don't know!"

His worried face remains despite his blush. He takes ahold of your accusing hand—a gesture you realize is always a grounding tool, a way for him to tell you he's there for you. "It's okay," he encourages. "If you tell me what you can, I'll try to piece it together."

You don't deserve him. You know this, want to say as much, but that's not what he wants to hear. At the very least you can try to answer him properly.

"I want to be intimate with you sometimes, more intimate than we are now. But then when there's a moment to take that next step I get anxious, I think because I'm worried about how it could change things...the way you see me."

He listens, rubs his thumb against the back of your hand until you're finished. "Can I ask why you want to be more intimate?"

You pause, not expecting that response. "I'm not sure," you answer, "but it happens when I feel very intensely for you. And sometimes when it doesn't make sense. Like when you say that we should stop because I seem uncomfortable—for some reason it makes me want it more."

You wince after hearing your own words. "Sorry. Maybe I just enjoy leading you on."

He dutifully shakes his head. "No, it makes sense to me," he disagrees. "It sounds like you have concerns about how our relationship or expectations might change. Then when I say something that removes the possibility of those expectations, you feel more secure to try whatever it is you're thinking about."

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for a confirmation or denial. So you nod slowly, "I think that's true. But I want to be able to ask or initiate something and feel confident then, not after you've put an end to things. It gets me nowhere. And it makes me feel insecure, I think."

Sero pouts at that, pouts for you, you realize. "I'm sorry, I didn't notice."

You scowl. "Stop it, it's not your fault. There is no way I could possibly blame you for my problems or my inability to talk to you."

He huffs, like he wants to argue, but then squeezes your hand gently. "I had another question," he says instead. "Do you know what’s making you anxious? You say it has to do with expectations or how I see you, which I think I get, but is still vague. You've mentioned previous relationships before, and I get the sense that they have a lot to do with this. Do you think you could talk about it more? Maybe I can offer my perspective to compare?"

It's an ineloquent jumble of words that tumble from your lips, trying to point out moments in your intimate history that could draw some sort of loose thread.

(You are twelve years old when a girl in your class hands you a note that says, I like you, do you like me too? and you nod, blushing. After class you walk to her locker together and she says you have to kiss her, since you're dating now. You freeze, a lump in your throat at the idea and then you run away. The next day she puts a note on your desk that reads, I hate you.

You are fifteen with your first serious boyfriend. He's the first one you ever kissed, especially like this right now. It's his birthday and the two of you are in his room, kissing in a way that feels weird but seems to make him happy. Your heart starts to race when he brings your hand between his legs and says, "C'mon, it's a special day." You agree easily, excited by the idea of trying something new. You feel gross when he finishes and make an excuse so you can leave.

You are sixteen when you lose your virginity to him, unable to find the words to tell him how to make it better as he rubs you harshly and thrusts too fast. You think it's supposed to be like this, that first times are never good, and you just hope that he'll want to stop when he finishes this time. You let him do what he wants since he told you he planned the night and the room to be romantic. For you.

You are seventeen when you go to a party, hoping to find someone fun to talk to and take your mind off your breakup. There's a cute boy who gets you a drink, and when he leans in to kiss you, you don't stop him. You don't stop him when he pulls you to a room in the house either, where you eventually spend the night in his bed. You feel hollow the following morning.

You are eighteen on a date with someone you instantly clicked with. She invites you into her house and you say "okay" even though you're tired. You like her company and want to sit in it for a little longer. You continue to say "okay" when she goes to kiss you, to touch you, to lay you down, despite not feeling ready. 

You are still eighteen when half a year passes with her, but you can no longer stomach the thought of holding her hand. So you end things, a messy break that she is angry about, and think maybe you're going about this all wrong.)

You mention disappointed looks, assumptions and entitlement you were subjected to. You don't understand what it means at the end of all this talking, other than that you're difficult, complicated in the way you handle intimacy.

To make things more confusing, you add at the end, "I think my sex drive has always been lower than anyone I've been with. And sex itself is usually super disappointing, like I wasted my time. But sometimes I have really good sex, and sometimes I'm horny for several days. But usually once I get my fix I won't want to do anything for weeks."

(You are twenty-two and finally telling someone.)

It's a lot to dump on him, but he listens carefully the entire time and then responds thoughtfully, trying to make sense of all the different pieces of information and directions. He suggests that you might need more time to be with someone before you have physical intimacy, or that you don't associate certain touches to be sexual, but other people have interpreted any initiative on your end as such. He thinks about the disappointment, the assumptions, and the entitlement—how that makes it difficult to make your own choices about your body and desires. He says that you could also simply have an unpredictable sex drive, and you need people to be flexible about when they can be with you in certain ways. He wonders if it wasn't that complicated in the beginning, but the way your relationships panned out made everything harder and more confusing.

You think it makes some sense when he puts it like that. It never occurred to you that your feelings weren't the problem, but the way people responded—or didn't respond. You talk back and forth for a little, trying to refine the way you articulate the root of all this. It helps at first, but then it becomes confusing again.

Sero notices and changes directions by saying, "How about this: the way I see intimacy isn't that everything is a prelude to sex, but that the point is to just enjoy the feeling at the moment. It doesn't have to end in an orgasm or a certain idea of "finished", but just that both sides enjoy themselves."

You keep your face carefully blank as you think about his words. They sound foreign, an entirely different way of thinking about pleasure. It doesn't make sense.

"What...what's the point, then?" you ask, not trying to be dismissive but genuinely confused.

He shrugs, "To have fun, maybe get to know someone a little better or feel closer to them for a moment. People can decide to end their workout or a project whenever they want to, even if someone else may have a different idea of when it's actually done. Sex—intimacy in general—can be the same."

That...sounds believable, you think. "But is that not just blue-balling yourself?"

He laughs. “Maybe. But there's a different kind of enjoyment in that if you're open to it. And usually it makes the next time you orgasm that much better...Although, if you're not expecting to cum it's not really blue-balling, I think."

That makes you pause. You think about the way your mind immediately jumps to sex when there's arousal involved. You wonder if you've been subjecting Sero to the same assumptions and expectations that you've been fearing this entire time. You think his perspective sounds interesting and relaxed, that it makes sense for Sero. So easy-going. You think it wouldn't hurt to try thinking about things that way.

Instead of voicing that, your mind darts somewhere else when you speak. "We...we're basically a couple at this point." You think about how you still have different rooms. "Well, maybe not."

Sero shrugs, "Maybe. I don't think that's our priority right now."

Again, he lifts the weight of the world from your shoulders.

You're still twenty-two when you try running your hands over his torso and tell him you want to try pushing things a little further. He says, "okay" and brings his hands to your waist. The way they move is exciting, different than his hugs or cuddles. These hands move purposefully, curious as they explore your body and press or pinch or pull—trying to understand and coax an array of reactions from you. He's gentle, asks if they can trail lower. When you nod, he pauses and pulls them back. You see apprehension fill his vision and he asks if you can stop for now. You're confused, but agree, and instead you spend the night as his little spoon, his hands back to hugging you at the waist. You want to ask, but you remember the way he normally gives you time, and instead let yourself soak in the warmth of his body.

You're nearly twenty-three when you learn that another big piece in this large equation is embarrassment at your desires. You want to try going further again, but remember Sero's apprehension. You ask him gently one night, trying to be honest the way he is with you. That you want to make sure things are okay, that you want him.

His answer surprises you a little, mostly because nobody ever told you something like it before. 

"I think I'm a little nervous after what you told me about your history with other people," he admits. "It might feel kind of backwards, but I don't want you to agree to something just because you think I want it—or want it more than I care about your boundaries. I would feel awful knowing that you didn't actually want to be with me in that way."

You remember how he puts an end to things whenever you seem nervous or unsure, leaving no room for doubt. He doesn't want to be with someone who's uncertain of their feelings. It's a shocking realization for you, used to people wanting the pleasure itself, uncaring of how it's obtained. You feel some guilt at your lack of self-understanding, wishing you could offer something to make him feel more at ease. You ask him.

"I think...If you want something, you have to say it." He tells you firmly. "I don't like guessing and getting nods or unclear answers. If you tell me to do something or guide me, though, I'll know you're enjoying yourself. And you have to tell me to stop if you start feeling any uncertainty."

You agree, starting to understand Sero's perspective throughout this mess.

But verbalizing your desire turns out to be much more difficult than you anticipated. Your body screams touch me, touch me here, but you're incapable of saying it, face burning with shame at the thought. You ask for a break while the two of you are caught in a passionate kiss on his bed, him pulling away as he hovers over you.

Your eyes bore into his, trying to will the words out. He seems to notice your struggling and takes his hand off your waist, removing any distractions.

It's the opposite of what you want.

"Fuck, this is harder than I thought," you say honestly, wanting to get anything out there to start.

"What is?" he asks gently.

You swallow. Breathe out slowly. Inhale. "Telling you what I want to do," you admit. "I feel really embarrassed by it for some reason."

"I want you to," he reminds you softly. "Tell me, I want it to be good for you too."

The way his honesty turns you on, sends fire through your body is unfair. Sero, ever so open, never acting on shame. So unfair.

"Just—just go back...to kissing me," you say. Maybe it'll help you find the courage, after you relax a little into his touch. He nods curtly before leaning to continue, starting gently before working up to the previous rhythm.

It takes a couple minutes for you to move, eventually grabbing his wrist—the one that was on your waist before—and returning it, bringing it against your belly. You manage to gasp out, "Again," in between kisses, "like before."

With the way Sero grabs you and runs his hands along your torso, you think your lead was enough for him to follow. The admission keeps your cheeks warm, but his passionate response helps chip at your self-consciousness. In a moment of courage, you drag one of your hands from his waist to his back and press down, pulling his hips so he grinds against you. The gasp that leaves his mouth is surprised and broken, and the sound mixed with the feeling of his hardness makes you groan. 

He ruts against you gently but with an intensity. You feel him get firmer with the contact, and you can feel your own arousal deepen. Your mind runs wild with possibilities for what to do next, torn between bringing his hand between your legs, or your own between his.

When he breaks away from your lips and presses kisses against your neck, you tell him, "I can't decide—If I wanna try getting you off or wanna have you play with me." The whine he releases makes you squeeze your thighs together. The honesty is exciting, liberating as you feel a sense of freedom.

Your body shivers when he clenches his hand at your stomach, thumb reaching to rub gently below your belly button. It makes you inhale shakily in anticipation. His voice is low in your ear, throaty and sinful as he tells you, "Let me."

That night is the second time you sleep in his bed with him, now both of you fully naked. Spent. Your heart squeezed by him whispering in your hair—thank you, and I love you.

As expected, things unravel before they improve. You need space, time alone and time untouched. There's a tenseness in your stomach, but it's manageable, small rolling waves. You try to ride them out patiently, with as much compassion for yourself as you can muster. Sero is good to you, because of course he is. And his openness to your needs helps to peel away your apprehension. You find yourself still comfortable in his presence, easily falling back into your usual patterns after a few days of closing yourself off.

You don't reach for him for a little while longer, but he doesn't seem too fazed. You notice something has changed with the way he acts around you, though.

You're making dinner one evening after he returned home, washed and waiting on the couch. You can feel his eyes trailing you, and every time you look towards him he holds your gaze, smiling. You turn the stove off and put your hands on your hips when the food is ready. 

"What's with the staring today?" you ask candidly.

He shrugs and says, "You're beautiful." It makes your face heat, not expecting that answer. Then he adds, "Sorry, is that uncomfortable?"

You shake your head, want to tell him it's not believable. Instead you say that it's fine and usher him to eat. His words ring through your mind and you can't help but stare a little as you eat your dinner quietly, the two of you making a lot of eye contact.

When you finish and start the dishes, taking a plate that he passes you by the sink, you tell him, "You're beautiful too."

You've always felt complicated at friend gatherings.

Sero invites you when they happen—usually at an izakaya or occasionally hosted at someone's place—friendly meetings with his group of hero friends from UA. The first time he asked you to come, you were confused. It felt out of place to be there, not sure you were the sort of person who needed to get introduced to heroes, for being a roommate.

Sero had looked at you questioningly when you told him. It was your explanation after turning down the third invite. "You—you're my best friend," he said. "Not just my roommate. I've wanted you to meet my UA friends for a while."

That sort of honesty was hard to reject, so you went despite your nerves. Thankfully he knew Denki and Shinsou would be there, familiar faces you could cling to if Sero got whisked away to catch up with others. That night was fun and you enjoyed getting to meet these people—names that Sero mentioned often—and hear stories from their perspective at Sero's expense.

The one difficulty of that night was the constant denying that the two of you were dating. Rolling your eyes at Denki's stupid wiggling eyebrows, attracting the interest of another friend—Mina—in trying to get you to divulge the secrets you were allegedly keeping. It didn't help that this was just a couple weeks after the two of you first kissed—a development that was unexpected but you decided didn't change the label of your relationship. The heroes in front of you looked too starry-eyed, too smug in their questions, for you to share any of that. So you doubled down on your place as a friend, playing it off easily.

Even as your touches with Sero covered more ground, it was still easy to call yourself friends in front of others—especially because neither of you yearned for affection when there was an audience. An occasional arm over the shoulder or ruffle on the head passed between you, but those were the ways Sero engaged with any of his friends. The two of you had an agreement that things were better kept lowkey around others, solely to avoid unnecessary explanations. And it worked, until it didn't.

This time, nearly a year after your first, a Saturday evening at an izakaya rented out just for the heroes and their friends, Sero is loose—undoubtedly because of the efforts of his fellow alum, toasting to anything and declaring constant challenges for no reason other than to get plastered together. It's a small group, the rest—and thankfully majority—of the people gathered keeping an eye on them and ensuring they have safe means of getting home.

You're returning from the bathroom, walking through the hall separated from the main bar, when Sero appears. You step to let him pass, about to ask how he's holding up, when he sloppily grabs your jaw with one hand and kisses you.

You return it for a moment before reaching to push his chest back gently, saying, "Not here Hanta." He uses his other hand to grab yours pressing against him, making a noise—one that sounds like a mix between a whine, a groan, and love you—and leaning down for another. It makes your heart race with both affection and nerves. You're prepared to wriggle from his grasp, already twisting your forearm to—

There's a gasp from the end of the hall. You freeze at the sound, blood running cold when you recognize whose voice it is, an, "I knew it!" screamed by Mina, gleefully.

You aren't sure why getting caught like this makes your stomach turn the way it does. Surely you're not a high schooler hiding your secret boyfriend from your parents. But you hate that it was Mina to find you like this, knowing her mind is jumping at lightspeed to conclusions, making assumptions out of one snippet of a gesture.

And Mina's cry grabs attention, of course it does. And it's Denki, because of course it is, and the first thing he says when he takes in the scene before him is, "Dude, I knew there was no way you could be living together and not banging." Because of course he does.

And your eyes sting with tears, not sure if it's shame or disappointment or fear coursing through your veins, still icy. You're deaf to any other comments they make, feeling your breath quicken while your heart hammers in your chest. When your moment of paralysis passes you retreat, the coward taking over to reign in any sense of control or safety. Sero's grip is slack from the shock, and you use the opportunity to dart back into the bathroom, grateful there's a lock on the main door despite there being four stalls inside.

The noise is overwhelming—too many sounds to fully understand what's happening. You hear Sero call your name, rushed knocks on the door. Denki and Mina's voices get closer too, still trailing on and on with interrogation and amusement. It makes your eyes water faster but your body heat in anger. It's what, of all things, you were trying to avoid most. The way people will take in the news and their first thought is that they somehow knew. That it was obvious, that you're oblivious to your own emotions and stupid for having to move at your own pace. The way their faces fill with cockiness—borderline condescension—because they knew all along, idiot. 

It's a blur, fuzzy in your mind as you try to focus on breathing. You muffle your sobs into your arm, not wanting to give the people on the other side the satisfaction of knowing the state you're in. You think your embarrassment would make them proud of themselves, for some reason.

It's only a moment later when there's a startling shout. It's Bakugou, with his signature, "Oi!" before he barks, "Shaddap you idiots!"

You hear stomps approach the door, then two shrieks. The voices whine and ramble as they move further away, carrying part of your overwhelm with them.

You don't see the meaningful look Bakugou gives Sero before he turns to shove them back in the main room. You don't see the way Sero's eyes are completely clear, body sobered by the gravity of the situation.

(Sero once admitted that he keeps Kirishima vaguely informed of the developments between you two, mostly because he was the next closest friend and the best person for advice. Always better at the emotional stuff, in his words. He also mentioned that Kirishima could probably relate, since Bakugou has a way of disregarding convention when it comes to his relationships. You wonder if Bakugou knows too.

You don't hear how in the main room Mina whines, "But I saw them kiss!"

You don't hear Bakugou's response either: a scoff and then, "Doesn't fuckin' matter what you saw, you shit. S'none of your fuckin' business.")

Sero stands in the hallway as his brain attempts to recollect all that happened in the span of a minute, give or take. You're still muffling your panic in your arm, but he hears a shaky inhale and it sends alarms of urgency through his body. He raises his hand to try knocking again, and he is momentarily taken back to a wooden desk on the fourth floor—the first few weeks of knowing you, knocking on your desk to get your attention because he wasn't sure if it was okay to tap your shoulder. It feels like an entire lifetime ago, but also the reality of the present. So he knocks, a short series of raps at the pace of his nervous heart.

When he's met with silence, he says softly, "Hey, I'm sorry. Can you let me in? So I can apologize properly," pauses; adds, "and make sure you're okay."

It takes a moment after some shuffling on your end and a pause, but he hears the door unlock. Unable to contain his relief, he yanks it open and pushes through, pulling you into his arms. You hear the door lock again after he's gotten ahold of you and you shove your face into his warm chest to mute a surprise sob. He doesn't let you stay there for long, trailing his hand to your face so he can look at you, run his thumb below your eye to wipe away another tear.

"I'm sorry," he says, heartfelt and unwavering. "I know we said that kisses were private, and I didn't respect that. And it led to exactly what you were worried about, especially since it's Mina and Denks. Being drunk is no excuse. Can I...do anything right now to help?"

It's unfair how perfect his apology is, how open and honest he is when he's at fault. You just pull him close, needing his comfort in the security of the damned locked bathroom. He feels more relief at that, to not be pushed away.

You feel more gnawing at your stomach, those ugly thoughts that you're overreacting, blowing things way out of proportion. Playing some sort of victim when it's not a big deal. It was a kiss, you tell yourself. But a kiss is often what starts to create those separations, categories in the mind that are inflexible, come with the territory of strictly defined behaviors and confine the way people see you. And it was sweet that he wanted your affections. You think it's all in your head, that you're overcomplicating—

You are pulled out of your spiraling when Sero jerks himself away from you and makes a beeline for one of the stalls. You hear the sound of his retching and run to his side, patting his back and raking your hand through his hair. It’s a delayed reaction maybe—likely a combination of already feeling sick from the drinks, the nerves from the guilt, and that moment where he suddenly sobered. You wait with him until he's finished, flushing the toilet for him when he goes to stand on shaky legs.

"You're too good for me," he moans guiltily as you help him to the sinks to wash his face and mouth.

You just shake your head, disagreeing but not wanting to impose an argument on him in this state. You pocket it for later, wondering what he'll remember in the morning. A knock at the door breaks you from your thoughts.

It's Kirishima, concerned face slightly relieved to see you after you open the door. "Just checking in. Hanta man, you look super unwell," he says, taking in Sero's paleness. Red eyes then move to you, "And you..." you think about how you were mid-sob, a mess in your own right. You know the pair of you look ridiculous.

"Maybe it's best to take him home," he decides. You agree. 

Kirishima is a step ahead, already having gathered your things so you could choose to exit the izakaya without re-entering the main room where everyone else is, still chatting happily. You think he is your savior. The only one who sees you slip away is Bakugou, eyes meeting yours intensely, like there's something he's trying to tell you.

Sero makes an effort to apologize, first thing in the morning. You two are in his bed again—you wanted to be by his side in case anything happened at night—despite the nerves sitting in your gut from earlier. They're gone, mostly, now that you're away from prying eyes.

You wake before him, watch him lay peacefully on the pillow. You think he looks soft and unbothered, not far from how he is awake. After a moment of appreciating his quiet presence, you slip away carefully, return with a glass of water and medicine for his bedside table, and then enter the kitchen to make breakfast.

When he wakes, he is hit by nausea, dense in his stomach. He's not sure if it's the hangover or his in-tact memory of the night before, but it worsens when he sees his nightstand, smells the traces of his favorite post-drinking breakfast wafting through the air. He takes his pills and chugs the water before straightening himself up as quickly as possible and meeting you in the kitchen.

He's pouting when you see him, not even aware that he's doing it. But you see the way his lip juts out and his eyes are teary with guilt and you smile softly. He feels worse.

You had some time to reflect after waking and while you cooked breakfast. You decide it was definitely an overreaction on your part, the tears and the dread inexplicable and now a thing of the past. What's done is done, and you'll move on.

So you ask him, "How are you feeling?" before you turn to shovel some food on his plate.

And he makes a sound, a strangled one in the base of his throat, begging you to acknowledge what he's hurting for. (You.) He walks to you in large strides to gently wrap arms around your waist and bury his nose in your hair. It's so gentle, so cautious. And you're warm against him as you lean back into his embrace.

"I'm sorry for my bullshit last night," he says, not answering you.

You say as much, "Not an answer to my question."

And he whines, tells you, "Stop, don't do that. I upset you and you should let me make amends while sober."

You huff, wanting to be done with it. "It's fine Hanta. What's done is done, we'll carry on. And I overreacted anyways."

He squeezes you tight when you say it, you can feel the disagreement radiating off of him. "No, no. Not an overreaction, never an overreaction. You cried. It's acceptable to cry when you're upset."

"I ran away and locked myself in the bathroom."

"It was a meter away and you needed space."

He's too good at this. You try, "You were incapacitated, not thinking straight."

It makes him angry. He pulls away and turns you so you have to look at him when he tells you, "You told me to stop and I didn't." It makes you swallow, to hear it phrased like that. "Drunk or not, it's unacceptable. And if I can't respect our agreement when I'm that wasted, I shouldn't let myself drink that much in the first place."

You think of past nights at the bar, one night stands. Partners when they had an extra glass of whatever and couldn't pull themselves away from you. You, drunk enough to roll with it. But you, never actively wanting it.

All you can do is say, "Okay." 

Sero sighs, face pinched in a pained expression as he leans forward to hug you again. He rests his head on yours and sighs.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

"I know," you say. "And I forgive you."

He runs a hand along your back and hums. He's still unhappy with the conversation, thinking about the way you tried to dismiss his apology. That part still unaddressed, where you suggested you were over it.

"I'll talk to Mina and Denks," he says. It's a testament to how not-over it you are that you realize you were resigned to never see them ever again. "They have big mouths, but I'll try to keep whatever gossip they spread to a minimum. At the very least they know what circles to contain it to, so there's no risk for the media to learn anything."

That part you didn't even consider, but for some reason don't feel so anxious being reminded of it. Instead you just poke his stomach, once gently and then again firmly to push him back from you.

"Okay," is what you say. "Now, how are you feeling? Are you hungry?"

As expected, touches get a little difficult after that. The sexual intimacy, especially, but even the kisses that you've gotten so familiar with. You're in your head, thinking about the friend-or-not-friend implications of everything. Wondering why it's so hard to just commit to a label.

(Kirishima is on patrol with Sero, seeing him sigh when he's asked how things are going, talking about how you've been struggling to feel as confident in yourself after that night.

Bakugou is scowling, telling Kirishima, "the fuck they care about other opinions so much for?" when the redhead mentions it while debriefing his day at dinner.)

But it improves with time and patience. Sero is crystal clear water, the gentle lapping of waves on a shore. He is warm and inviting and healing. And you are slowly submerging yourself in the feeling of him, occasionally stepping back, occasionally a wave bringing the water higher than you expected. But it is always warm, always safe.

After two months of dread, Sero manages to convince you to come back for an evening with the group. "They wanna apologize," he tells you, "and Kirishima asks about you." You know you can't hide forever and begrudgingly agree to go.

It turns out it helps to face your fears. People don't look at the two of you any differently when you enter, and you feel a twinge of guilt at the way Kirishima's eyes brighten with excitement and relief when he spots you. You're only a few steps through the door when you're stopped, the wailing of a familiar pink friend.

"I'm sorry!" Mina says overdramatically, notably tipsy as she grabs your shoulder. "I'm such a horrible gossip. And you two are so hot—Ugh!"

You don't know where to begin with this, and all Sero can do is laugh from beside you. It doesn't help when you feel your opposite hand get taken by an unfamiliar touch, your eyes darting to see Kaminari starting to kneel as he holds it. Your eyes widen impossibly at the display.

The drunk blond begins his own messy apology, though genuine and making a few good points including: "We're sorry for our big mouths," and "We're too stupid to understand." You laugh in disbelief, until Mina is clinging onto you with an arm around your shoulder and Denki starts kissing your hand. It's overwhelming and you feel cornered, but Sero helps detach Denki from you, pulling him up to drag him back to the bar.

You hear his whines and Sero saying, "It's okay dude, they forgave you." You make a note to tell him yourself later.

You're grateful for the help, but it's left you alone with Mina. She's rambling into your shoulder now, and when you tune in you realize it's actually meaningful stuff.

"—didn't know if Hanta ever really had someone who caught his eye, ever since highschool. He was so chill about everything, the romance stuff especially. Always brushing it off. If there was anything going on, he was just as secretive as Bakugou." She stops to sigh, heavy against you. "Denki told me, when you two first went out and I was so excited, but I've been confused about how stuff has been going ever since. 'Cause sometimes it sounded like you were leading him on, especially when I saw for myself the way he looks at you. And when I saw you in the hall I thought maybe Hanta's love worked out, but then you ran away. Hanta tried to explain it but I don't get it at all."

You lean your head back to get a better look at her face and she's pouting. You aren't sure how to respond, feeling defensive at her brief accusation. But you hold yourself together, make sure your voice is calm when you answer.

"We're friends," you say simply. "Friends who sometimes act like a couple from an outside perspective. But we're always gonna be friends, even if the couple stuff just stops one day."

Mina sighs again, and you think it's probably because of your poor explanation. So you add, "I'm sorry it felt like I was leading your friend on, but I haven't—we're good at communicating. And it doesn't really have to make sense to anyone but the two of us."

It makes her whine and turn to hug you. "M'sorry," she mumbles by your neck. "I'm so nosy about people's love lives. Maybe I should just focus on mine."

You startle out a laugh and gently hug her back. "You're forgiven," you tell her. "And maybe it'll help if you just think about other important things."

She scoffs, grumbles, "You can say that 'cause you're a snack."

You raise an eyebrow. "And you're not?"

The night carries on smoothly after that, finally making it to the bar and getting conversation in with the others—Kirishima first, of course. You and Denki cross paths again and have a significantly less dramatic reconciliation than earlier. Like Mina, he also mentions how Sero's always been elusive about love, that they were just excited for him. You watch him carefully, recounting conversation when Sero talks about Denki, when they were younger and had a relationship not unlike yours now.

Sero approaches you after making his own rounds, from behind you while you're catching up with Jirou. She's offering you an invite to a show next weekend, asking for your number to send you the details. You're in the middle of declining, only ever declining these things. You always think they're pleasantries, offerings to make you feel included as an outsider. But this isn't your world, it's Sero's.

You've told him before, how out of place you feel despite the growing familiarity. Why you decline invites to other hangouts, avoid exchanging numbers. Kirishima is the only one you've folded for, but only for emergency use. Denki and Shinsou had your old number from your intern days, but you got a new one when your career started taking off, never offering it a second time.

"You should go," he says as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. The clink of ice in a glass sounds by your ear, a half-finished Long Island. "If you want."

You make a face, a look he knows. Past conversations where you've told him: it's your world, not mine.

He turns his head to whisper gently in your ear. "You're my world, too."

If Jirou is tempted to react to the exchange and the way your face heats, it doesn't show. She sits calmly, almost bored-looking. It makes you forget she has enhanced hearing. At your unchanged uncertain expression, she says, "It's more than a week away, so you have time to think about it. Sero can give you my number if you decide to come."

You think about your ease in this room, even with the debacle that unfolded several weeks ago. Meaningful looks from Kirishima, glares from Bakugou that seem different from anger. How Denki and Shinsou always make an effort to catch up. The way Mina smiles brightly at your appearance. Jirou, here, inviting you despite your streak of declines.

"Okay," you say. "I'll think about it," instead of your usual excuses.

Sero leans further onto your shoulder, pleased by the response. Jirou's face smiles gently and you think maybe it's time.

You are twenty-three when you decide to move your things into Sero's room—the master. You sleep there together often now, even when it's just side-by-side instead of wrapped in each other's embrace. The room is larger and the bathroom is nicer, too. It makes sense.

Sometimes you retire to the second room anyways, if you need the space for a night or few. Just like everything else it's managed easily enough, met with understanding.

One night when you and Sero are laying in the bed, not touching but facing each other from opposite ends, he says quietly, "I discovered a term today… that I think fits our relationship."

You hum in response, watching him, how his eyes have a twinge of uncertainty.

"Life partners," he offers. It sounds simple, neutral, a little vague.

You like it.

"Sounds perfect," you say quietly.

He smiles, bright and honest. His hand reaches for yours and they sit clasped between you, his thumb rubbing your palm.

"I thought so too."

You are twenty-five when you can finally voice what you want in a public setting without feeling the burden of expectation. You are twenty-five when you are able to let go of the implications of labels, what other people think of them, prevent them from shaping your wants and how you go about them.

You are twenty-five, drinking in the atmosphere of the izakaya with Sero's friends—your friends—and all you want is to touch him. He's come up to you where you're perched at the end of the bar, away from the noise of the center. He lays it on thick, a bad pickup line that makes you laugh in your private corner of the room.

When your voice calms you take him in, dressed up from the nice dinner some of them attended beforehand. His hair is pushed back and messy from the ruffling of friends and his cheeks are warm, a couple drinks in. He looks boyish and cute, and you grab the end of his tie to pull him closer.

"You look good tonight," you say as you obnoxiously eye him up and down. "Gimme a kiss."

He flushes further, protesting out of uncertainty for you and your usual consciousness of PDA. Even as you've gotten more comfortable with intimate touches around his friends, you're never bold like this. But he's also weak to you, and gives easily when you roll your eyes and tell him it's fine.

"Man, have any of you seen Hanta? We're supposed to toast our next round together," Denki whines as he approaches the center of the bar.

Jirou makes a noise of amusement and then a display of cocking her head to the end, eyes directing their gaze.

The blond makes a startled sound when he sees Sero standing over you, moving to break from a kiss while you pull him by the tie to bring him closer. Then an obnoxious gasp when he sees you bite his lip.

Mina just groans and leans into Jirou. "They're so hot together. I totally get it now, why aren't you all like that with me?"

"Randomly making out with you at the group function?" Shinsou asks.

Mina just sighs uh, yeah, and Jirou offers, "Haven't you heard of friends with benefits?" Then she pauses thoughtfully, remembering the way Sero quietly said You're my world, too.

Denki pouts, "Are they—are we gonna get Hanta back tonight? Our toast..."

But then you pull back smiling, and the two of you exchange a meaningful-seeming dialogue. Sero gives you a kiss on the cheek and then turns to the center of the bar, eyes scanning. He brightens when he sees Denki and rushes over with a wave. Meanwhile you stand up as Kirishima walks over to you, you happily meeting him halfway.

"Sorry I got distracted Denks, did you put in the order?" Sero asks, breath slightly labored.

"Shut up man," the blond continues to sulk. "Don't rub it in, you can go back to making out in your corner."

Sero laughs, "Nah, I wanna drink with you. Let's go."

Denki eyes him skeptically but the shots are brought out and then downed easily. Denki is soon slurring and leaning against Sero for support. They awkwardly stumble to the barstools together.

"Dude, you're not like—gonna run away from us with your hot friend, right?" Denki asks after sitting down.

Sero looks at him with wide eyes. "What? We've been living together for years. It hasn't made me see you any less."

The blond sighs, saying, "Yeah, but...That's before you started making out like that."

And Sero laughs, genuinely. Happily. "Denks. We've been making out for years now too. And you’ve known about the making out for a while."

There's a hum in response, noncommittal. Sero watches closely as Denki's eyes look far away, thoughtful. Somber.

"I'm—I'm happy for you man," he says eventually. "And...I'm sorry."

Sero doesn't need any other words to know what he's alluding to. He's immediately thinking back to life at UA when he had a relationship not so different than yours now—but with Denki. Late nights in the dorm sleeping together in one of their beds, after cackling and scheming to make their classmates' lives harder. Everyone knew they were close, but they didn't know about the cuddling, kisses and tender moments that would spring at random in private. They were happy with their little rendezvous, carefree and uncommitted. 

At least, it was fun until Denki got more serious about his thing for Jirou. It didn't make Sero upset, the loss of the touch and the intimacy. But the loss of his friend almost entirely is what bred hurt in his heart. No more late night laughing, one-on-one time in the dorms. They still hung around each other with the others, Denki still slinging an arm over his shoulder, but everything deep between them paused for a while, without explanation. It was awkward and confusing. Hard.

But war changes people, brings them closer and further apart. Denki and Jirou's new thing didn't last, luckily able to revert back to their easy friendship. And the boy's friendship with Sero was rebuilt, sturdy and unwavering. But it was different, and that period of emptiness remained unspoken, left as an artifact to the times when things were simpler and easier.

Sero knows that when Denki voices this insecurity, when he pouts and feels a squeeze at his heart, it's one that first appeared in the fourth floor of the agency when Sero asked you on a date. He knows that Denki fears the very thing he did when they were teenagers, the blond whisked away by the prospect of a love that was somehow more meaningful than theirs.

Sero knows that Denki understands the magnitude of what you and he share. And Sero knows that Denki will always feel a sliver of guilt in his heart for not maintaining the same.

"I forgave you a while ago," Sero tells him. It's honest, real. Unwavering forgiveness. And Denki is sighing, pouting as he leans into his arm propped up on the bar.

Sero pats his back gently as he says, "I love you, Denks." And the boy is teary, leaning into the touch as he says a muffled love you too.

You're aware of this history, something Sero shared with you when you were friends at a distance, separated by work and life. You had asked once about the ease with which he navigates his relationships. Why he can maneuver his feelings so well.

And you see this moment, this exchange from a distance from your spot at the bar. A small smile creeps onto your face, imagining their dialogue.

Sero's eyes meet yours as you make your way over, unhurried. He smiles, brightens before giving Denki's back another pat and letting his hand slide away.

You are twenty-five when Sero reaches for you in the ambiance of a bar crowded with friends. It's a gentle but confident gesture that he knows you will take, an outstretched hand extended to close the distance as quickly as possible. You are twenty-five when you take it easily, relieved by his touch and the knowledge that he accepts you—and everything you’re willing to give him.

just another fic of me oversharing thanks (the kitchen apology scene fixed me i think, i'll never have problems again)

this one is all over the place tbh and it's probably because i was trying to cram too many things into such as short length but some people on ao3 were fans, hopefully someone here enjoys too!

[cuubism]

I got myself emotionally invested in this retired dream chronic pain universe. Part 3 -- technically more like part 1, since it takes place before.

--

It's not raining in the waking world, but Dream's hair stays plastered to his forehead, and water drips down his bare shoulders. It's one of the last things he's brought with him from the Dreaming, the remnants of the cold, pounding rain.

Dream is wet, and freezing, the slide of each drop of water across his skin like ice, but the waking world is warm. It's summer, a hot one, he remembers--he was here just a few weeks ago, so the sticky, warm night should come as no surprise. But he feels it more vividly, the heavy air, and the darkness his eyes can't track as well as they once could.

He's human, now. He thinks.

He stumbles on new legs, half-blind, across the dark road, crashes into the front door of the New Inn with none of grace he usually expects of his body. He nearly falls, but grabs hold of the door handle to support himself just in time. It doesn't fall open. It's-- the New Inn is dark, the door locked. Of course, it's the middle of the night, the pub is long closed, but no matter how reasonable this may be, Dream whimpers, the sound catching low and raw in his throat.

He's in too much pain to feel embarrassed about it, never mind that there's no one there to hear it but the insects and rats and other things that come out at night when humans are asleep and dreaming. He can't sense their minds anymore, but they must be out there, still. It would be a welcome distraction to feel them, but instead he's left with only his own mind's silence, and the pains that make up this new personhood.

This new body hurts. His joints ache. His muscles protest. The weak light of the streetlamps sears his eyes, his ears feel as though they might pop, there's blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue on his journey back to the living, he needs it to stop, he needs it all to stop. He should have just taken Death's hand and been done with it.

He didn't because he had overestimated his willingness to leave Hob. He had thought he'd made his peace with it, until he'd been faced with the final choice.

He still needs to see Hob.

He can't just appear in Hob's home anymore. He can't just will this door to dream of openness and unlock itself. He has to find his own way in before this body gives out on itself and leaves him slumped in the unprotected doorway.

He twists and jabs his elbow, hard, breaking a pane of the door's glass, reaches in and, ignoring the way the glass scrapes his arm, the way it cuts and bleeds when it wouldn't have before, unlocks the door from the inside. Hob will forgive him, he thinks. He's forgiven Dream worse than a little broken glass.

Once inside, he lets out a cautious breath that almost tastes like relief. But he can't stop and consider it for long. Water, he thinks. He needs-- this new body needs-- water. He doesn't fully understand the signals, yet. But he doesn't think he can make it up the stairs to Hob's flat, not without at least-- at least-- something to drink, some rest.

He limps across the floor, careful to avoid treading on the glass with his bare feet. Eventually he makes it to the bar, collapsing against it, and makes his slow way around the bar top, leaning heavily on the wood, head swimming. Are human bodies meant to be this feeble, or is it only Dream? Is he simply too new? Too tired?

The bar has a tap Hob's poured him water from before, but Dream's mind is such a swirling mess of thoughts and sensations that he can't grasp what he's meant to be doing. And then he can't grasp anything at all, legs giving out underneath him and forcing him to slide down to the floor or else fall over completely. Would it be too humiliating to crawl up the stairs to Hob's flat? he wonders, panting for breath. Does he have any dignity left?

The door at the base of the stairs creaks open as Dream is trying to decide, a sliver of light from the stairwell spilling across the floor. "You've got one chance to leave peacefully!" Hob's voice calls out to what he must assume is a burglar broken into the inn. Hob, Dream thinks with a sigh, tipping his head back against the bar, but he can't catch his breath well enough to speak aloud.

Hob swings around the bar, dropping the bat he'd brought once he sees him. "Dream!"

Dream whimpers at the sight of him, feeling far more pathetic about the sound now that Hob is here, but he is so tired and everything hurts and Hob is silhouetted by the stairwell light like an angel. Dream has met real angels but only now does he truly grasp the appeal of the imagery.

"Hey," Hob breathes, crouching before him. His voice is so gentle. "Hey, love, what's-- Christ, are you hurt?"

"Water," Dream says, voice cracking, searching Hob's face with bleary eyes. "Please."

Hob immediately pours him a glass from the tap Dream hadn't been able to figure out in his current state, and crouches before him again to hold it out. Dream takes it, hands shaking so hard that water sloshes over the rim. He doesn't know if he'll even be able to drink it like this, he wants out, he wants out of this wretched body, he can't remember why he did any of this--

Hob's hands wrap around his, steadying them. He helps Dream raise the glass to his lips. "Easy, love."

Love, Dream thinks. Say it again. Not that Hob hasn't before.

Hob helps him drink about half of the glass, slowly. His concerned gaze is fixed on Dream but he doesn't ask questions yet. He sets the glass aside, then takes Dream's hands in his, giving them a squeeze. His touch feels loud and hot in this body, and it is everything.

"What's going on, darling? Are you hurt somewhere? You-- oh!" He squeezes Dream's hands again, experimentally. "You feel so warm right now. Do you have a fever?"

He looks closely at Dream again, worried. Dream says, "I am human now. I think."

"Human?" Hob looks him up and down, stricken. He will not like this, Dream thinks, with a pang in his chest. Perhaps he should have thought so, before doing it.

Hob scrubs a hand through his hair, lips pressed tight in stress. "Alright. Alright. Stories later. Can you walk?"

Wordlessly, Dream shakes his head.

"Up you get, then." And Hob gathers him up in his arms, rising to his feet with some effort. "Up you get. It'll be alright. I promise."

Dream is unsure of that. But as Hob takes him upstairs, moving quick, he indulges himself by tucking his nose into Hob's neck. Warm, Hob had said. But Dream still feels so cold, body still shaking all over. He can still feel the echo of the frigid rain and wind on his skin.

Hob is speaking lowly to him, he realizes. Dream had drifted off and missed part of it. But Hob says to him now, a quiet litany, "It's alright, lovey, it'll be alright," comfort in the repetition, like he needs to quiet his own nerves. Dream just takes comfort in the sound of his voice and the rumble of it through his chest.

Hob sets him down in his own bed--Dream still struggles to think of it as their bed no matter how much time he's now spent in it--and wraps a blanket around his bare shoulders, for Dream is still only wearing a pair of black pants, once loose, now soaked and stuck to his skin. "Can I...?" Hob asks, fingering the waistband, and Dream nods, so Hob swaps them out for a dry pair and then drapes another blanket over him, despite his previous concern about Dream having a fever.

He fetches a towel and goes about drying Dream's sopping hair, scrubbing until it's damp and fluffy instead of sodden, and then, Hob having let the towel fall down around Dream's neck, they just look at each other, Hob still with his hands lightly hooked under Dream's jaw.

Hob still looks stricken. He doesn't pull away from Dream, though. Dream starts to think that maybe it is not the very fact that he is human that upset Hob so much.

"Your eyes," Hob says, grief-stricken. "They're not--"

"What?"

"Usually when I look real close I can see-- I can see the stars in your pupils, even when you're doing the-- the normal eyes thing." Dream merely looks at him, blinking slowly. It's true, his eyes no longer reflect the starry matter of the Dreaming, nor does any other part of him. "Oh, Dream, come here."

Dream sinks into his arms, hiding his face in Hob's shoulder. Hob's arms come up around him, and for the first time, he thinks the shaking abates, somewhat. He no longer feels quite so cold.

"What happened?" Hob says.

"I died," Dream says, and Hob starts. "And then, I changed. I became this."

"Human?"

Dream nods.

"Christ. Okay. There's a lot more to that, I reckon."

"There is." A story for another time, though. Dream is so tired. "I am," he admits, "I am. Tired. Hob."

"I know, sweetheart. I was so worried about you last we met. Guess I was right to be." He raises a hand to his face, Dream thinks to wipe away tears. "Well. You can rest for a while now. At least. If you don't. If you have no... responsibilities."

"I have nothing," Dream says, and Hob squeezes him tighter to his chest. "I would like, I think, to rest here a while."

"Of course. You're not hurt, right?"

"I... hurt," Dream says. He is no longer cold but his body still aches in every joint. Is it normal, he wonders, for a body to hurt so? "But I am uninjured, I think."

Hob lets out a relieved breath. "Good. Good. I'm glad you came back to me, either way."

"I did not have anywhere to go," Dream says. If Hob casts him out he has nothing; it is not a position he feels comfortable being in, especially coming from where he was, but it is the inevitable result of how he's fallen.

"You go here," Hob says, with finality. "That's all there is to it."

His certainty is a balm while Dream's mind is still swimming and spinning. Perhaps he should have known that Hob, Hob who'd waited for him, Hob who'd built them a new meeting place and welcomed him, always, would take such a viewpoint. Would let his home become Dream's.

Hob finally lets him go, only to pick up his arm in light hands. "Uninjured," he mutters to himself. "You're bleeding."

Dream's forearm, cut by the glass, is still sluggishly weeping blood. "I broke in," Dream says.

Hob huffs, almost a laugh. "One day, somehow, I'll finally teach you to just knock."

Dream means to explain that he did not think it would wake Hob up, but surprises himself by laughing instead. It's true that he often would appear in Hob's flat, never remembering to knock first. It is strangely comforting to think of this remaining unchanged; perhaps not all must be upended.

Hob laughs, too, cradling Dream's head to his chest, careful of his arm. "You bloody strange creature, I love you so much."

"I will knock," Dream promises, which only makes Hob laugh again.

"No, no, I'll just get you a key and you can come and go as you please. I won't have you get locked out again when you need help."

Dream supposes he truly lives here now. It's a strangely nice thought. "Very well," he agrees.

Hob runs a hand through his hair, then lets him go so he can take up his injured arm once more. "Let's clean this up, hm?"

He bandages the cut, hands careful on Dream's skin. Yes, Dream thinks, watching him, he is glad he came back to Hob, glad he was swayed last minute to make a different choice. And when Hob is finished and Dream leans against him again, head tipped into his shoulder, he thinks of the empty road before him now, the lack of true obligation, other than to be here, to rest, and no matter how it all still hurts, for the first time in a long while he feels a deep, pure relief.