#im exhausted and I pulled this together in an hour...

[brandstifter-sys]

Arrow to the...

Word Count: 899

Rating: T+

Characters: Remus, Virgil, Roman

Warnings: Sex mention, mild violence, partial nudity

Remus wants to surprise his boyfriend by wearing a Cupid costume and preparing a mildly romantic day for him. Virgil has other plans that win in the end.

---

It was the perfect plan!

Remus was absolutely certain that it wouldn't fail! He checked himself out in the mirror once more, admiring how his scarred, hairy body looked in nothing but an off-white diaper and his sash. He turned to the side to ogle his own butt and make sure his black angel wings were in place.

He was such a sexy little Cupid, how could his darling Scare Bear ever resist his wiles! It would lead to a beautiful day of cuddling, dancing, and love making! All he needed was his silly prop bow and suction cup arrows and he would win his lover over!

With all his supplies ready, Remus sank out and appeared in Virgil’s room.

It was dark and empty, but Remus expected that. He simply snapped his fingers and made black rose petals fall on and around the bed. Then he summoned some candles to set the mood, without lighting them—that would come later.

Not even the aromantic arachnid could deny the dedication and lust this scene brought. It was Valentine's Day and Remus was going to woo Virgil in any way he could!

But a tug in his gut pulled him away from his plan. Whoever decided to summon him would probably get a morningstar to the skull.

He appeared in the Imagination, in Roman’s castle. Something terrible must have happened if Roman wanted his help! The prince in question was standing in front of him, looking more and more disappointed and stressed with each passing second.

“Aw, you wanted to see your stinky bro!” Remus cooed and clasped his hands together against his chest in a vain attempt to look innocent.

“I'm seeing too much of him,” Roman scoffed, “And your hellhound is wreaking havoc in my garden! Since she already tried to bite my hands off, I need you to take her home.”

Remus shrugged and rolled his neck. His sweet three-headed puppy was just playing! But she managed to escape, and she had to go home. It would be a quick side quest that he could handle easily.

“I'll take her home, but don't expect me to fix your flowers—unless you want some Venus flytraps and corpse flowers!” he giggled and wiggled his shoulders impishly.

Roman rolled his eyes and waved him off before he could do something crazy.

Remus skipped through the grandiose hallways to the rear exit, fully expecting to find a muddy field of vegetative destruction on the other side.

He was confused when he found the garden in pristine condition. The hedges were neatly trimmed, the gaudy fountain was working, and the pathways were completely clear.

He wandered further into the garden, away from the castle, wondering if Roman expanded the place.

“Winifred! Sarah! Mary!” he shouted, hoping his puppo would come running. She was a good dog like that.

Thwang

Remus felt the breeze pass his face before he saw the arrow sticking out of a rosebush.

That bastard! Roman knew he was planning a whole day with his Scare Bear—this was not the time to play hunt the duke!

Thwang

Another arrow whizzed by his head. But this time he was ready to calculate the trajectory.

The shooter was on the second floor!

Th—

He turned to face his attacker and give the jackass a piece of his mind!

—wang

He only managed to turn half way before the third arrow hit him. It dug into his diaper and nicked his flesh.

But he saw exactly who decided to turn him into a pretty pin cushion. There just below the balcony, a man with four extra appendages was sticking to the wall, smirking down at him.

Remus fell to his knees and wailed like a beast caught in a trap.

“Why!? Why!?” he cried out, “Why did you aim for my beautiful bouncy booty!?”

Virgil leapt from the building and scurried over to his fallen prey, tossing his bow aside. He didn't take Remus' lamenting seriously, and simply threw the duke over his shoulder.

“You're so mean!” Remus whined as Virgil pulled the arrow out and discarded it. So it tore the stupid diaper a little, Remus would be more upset that he didn't tear it off.

“Who said I was nice?” Virgil scoffed.

“No one! Because you're so mean!” Remus pouted, “I just wanted to surprise you with my sexy costume and then be your personal slave for the day! But you just had to shoot arrows at me!”

“You know you loved the surprise,” Virgil jeered, “Besides, you like when I aim for your butt.”

Remus giggled as they sank out and rose up in Virgil's room.

“Happy Valentine's Day,” Virgil said and dropped him on the bed, “Don't expect any romantic stuff, even if you didn't like the surprise.”

Remus dragged him down and planted a smooch on his nose.

“It was fun! And I don't need you to do anything romantic—as long as I can call you my Valentine—or Daddy, or Master—I’m happy.”

Virgil curled up around him and kissed his cheek.

“You can call me that first one, and you can pick the movies today.”

“Human Centipede here we come!” Remus cheered and hugged Virgil. He had his Scare Bear who loved him in his own way, and it was just the way he liked it. What could be a more perfect way to fail at his plan?

[theonottsbxtch]

TIMEZONE | OP81

an: i promised after oscar’s pole id promise fluff and also because i got peer pressured by @amyelevenn im a victim fr, enjoy our soft boy - warning it does start off a bit angsty. this was a request from @n0vazsq for my 2k celly thank you ml <3 ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: oscar let the one go, but the longer he spends away from her the more he realises what a stupid mistake it was.

OSCAR WAS MISERABLE.

He'd just won his first ever pole-to-win conversion, and he was bloody miserable.

The champagne was still dripping from his race suit, the taste of victory lingering on his tongue, but it all felt hollow. The cheers from the crowd rang in his ears, deafening, but none of it mattered. Because she wasn’t there.

She should have been. She should have been in the paddock, wrapped up in his fireproof jacket, rolling her eyes at his cocky post-race grin but kissing him breathless anyway. She should have been the first person he saw when he climbed out of the car, arms flung around his neck before he'd even peeled off his gloves.

Instead, she was seven thousand miles away, living a life that no longer included him.

The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut as he stood on the podium, trophy in hand, the cameras flashing. He should have felt elated, triumphant. Instead, he felt empty. He'd sacrificed so much for this—pushed himself to the absolute limit, given everything he had to his career. But in doing so, he’d lost the one person who made it all mean something.

He barely heard the post-race interviews, barely registered his own answers. His PR manager nudged him at the right moments, and he went through the motions; smiling, nodding, thanking the team. But his heart wasn’t in it. It was still in London, curled up in a tiny uni flat with a girl who used to wear his hoodies to bed and steal his socks when hers went missing.

She used to joke that they spent more time apart than together. At first, she’d said it with a laugh, teasing him about their ridiculous time zone differences, about how she’d wake up just as he was finishing free practice on the other side of the world. But as the months passed, as the late-night FaceTime calls turned into missed texts and unreturned voicemails, the laughter had faded.

And then, one day, she’d stopped waiting.

He should have fought harder. He should have told her she was more important than all of this. That she was the only thing in the world that felt like home.

But he hadn’t.

And even now, standing on the top step of the podium, the world at his feet, he had never felt further away from where he truly wanted to be.

By the time he finally escaped to the driver's room, the buzz of victory had been drowned out by the quiet hum of regret sitting in his chest. His race suit was damp with sweat and champagne, the adrenaline fading, leaving nothing but exhaustion.

He grabbed his phone from where he’d tossed it earlier, the screen lighting up as he pressed the button. No texts. No missed calls. Nothing.

His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked to the clock widget at the top.

London: 10:00 AM

He could never bring himself to delete it. No matter where he was in the world—Australia, Japan, the Middle East—he always knew exactly what time it was for her. He used to check it before calling, before sending stupid voice notes at ungodly hours, before whispering a sleepy “Goodnight, love” when she was already halfway through her morning coffee.

Now, it was just another reminder of how far away she was.

With a frustrated sigh, he chucked his phone onto the massage bed and peeled off his race suit, yanking it down to his waist before grabbing a towel. The knock on the door came exactly two seconds before it was shoved open.

"Oi, I'm changing!" Oscar snapped, instinctively pulling the towel higher over his shoulder.

Lando stood in the doorway, completely unfazed. "Yeah, don’t care." He strolled in like he owned the place, tossing a sweaty towel onto the table before flopping onto the small sofa in the corner. "Right, what’s your problem?"

Oscar frowned. "What?"

Lando gestured vaguely at him. "You won the race, mate. First pole-to-win conversion, team's over the bloody moon. But you look like someone just ran over your cat."

"I'm fine."

"Bollocks," Lando said flatly. "You barely said two words after the race, you legged it out of the debrief like your arse was on fire, and you’re sitting here staring at your phone like you're waiting for it to apologise to you."

Oscar exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. "Just... tired."

Lando snorted. "Tired, my arse. Come on, out with it."

Oscar hesitated. He could dodge, change the subject, pretend that he wasn’t slowly losing his mind over someone who didn’t even call him anymore.

But then, before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out.

"I broke up with her." His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. "I mean, she broke up with me. But only 'cause I was never bloody there. Time zones, flights, races, all of it—it was too much. She got sick of waiting for me to show up, and I—" He stopped, swallowing hard. "I let her go."

Lando didn’t say anything for a moment, just watching him with a look that was more knowing than Oscar would have liked. "Shit."

"Yeah." Oscar let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head. "I won the biggest race of my career today, and the only thing I can think about is how she should’ve been in the crowd. She should’ve been the first person I saw when I got out of the car." He exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "But she wasn’t. And that’s my fault."

Lando was quiet for a beat, then sighed. "Mate, that’s brutal."

Oscar let out a bitter chuckle. "Tell me about it."

Lando leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "So... what are you gonna do about it?"

Oscar blinked. "What?"

"You love her, right?"

Oscar opened his mouth, ready to protest, but stopped himself. Love. The word sat heavy on his tongue, because of course he did. He always had.

Lando shrugged. "Well, then. Go and fix it."

Oscar shook his head, exhaling sharply. "I can't."

Lando raised a brow. "I can."

And with that, he stood up, clapped Oscar once on the shoulder, and walked out of the room—leaving Oscar sitting there, half-dressed, with a thousand unanswered questions.

What the hell did that even mean?

He stared at the door for a moment, running through every possible way Lando could have just ruined his life. But there was no time to dwell on it. He had a flight to Nice that night, back to his apartment, back to his too-quiet routine of training, simulator work, and pretending he wasn’t thinking about her.

Except an hour later, when he was in his hotel room, shoving his clothes and essentials into his suitcase, there was a knock at the door.

Frowning, he padded over, running a hand through his damp hair before swinging it open.

Max stood there, hands in the pockets of his team-branded joggers, looking like he had about two minutes of patience left before he lost interest and walked away.

Oscar blinked. "Uh—"

"I'm leaving for London at six," Max said.

Oscar frowned. "Okay?"

Max tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for Oscar to catch up. When it became clear that wasn’t happening, he sighed, shifting his weight onto one foot. "I've got a spare seat on the jet."

Oscar's brain still wasn’t putting one and one together. He looked over Max’s shoulder, half-expecting Lando to be standing there smirking, but the corridor was empty. "Right. And why exactly are you telling me this?"

Max exhaled through his nose, already looking like he regretted getting involved. "Lando said you were miserable. You broke up with your girlfriend and need to get back to London to fix things. I know you probably have a flight to Nice booked, and Lando seems convinced you’re just going to sit there and wallow until the next race." He paused, glancing at the half-packed suitcase on the bed. "So finish packing. Let’s go. I don’t do well with tardiness."

And with that, he turned on his heel and started walking away.

Oscar stood there for a solid five seconds, staring at the now-empty hallway, his thoughts scrambling to catch up.

Lando. That meddling little—

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Then, without hesitating, he turned back into the room and shoved the rest of his things into his suitcase.

London. He was going to London.

To fix things.

To fix everything.e

It was 7 AM when they landed, and the first thing Oscar did—besides being absolutely jetlagged—was check her schedule.

He never deleted it from his camera roll.

It was an old photo, scribbled notes in her handwriting detailing lectures, seminars, deadlines. He used to check it religiously before calling, making sure he wasn’t waking her up before an important class or messaging when she was in the library. Even now, he found himself doing the same, as if he still had the right to.

Mondays. No morning lectures.

That gave him time.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face, then turned to Max, who was stretching his arms over his head like he hadn’t just crossed multiple time zones. "Cheers, mate. For, you know… all of this."

Max just shrugged. "You can thank Lando. I don’t usually offer free therapy and private jet rides to sad bastards."

Oscar let out a breath of laughter. "Duly noted."

With that, he slung his bag over his shoulder, headed outside, and hailed a cab.

The drive to her flat was a blur of grey London streets, his heart pounding harder with every passing second. The nerves only set in when he stepped out of the taxi, staring up at her building like it was a bloody racetrack he’d never driven before.

What if she didn’t want to see him?

What if she had moved on?

What if he was about to make an absolute fool of himself?

Still, his feet carried him forward. Up the stairs. To her door.

He raised his hand and knocked.

There was shuffling from inside—soft footsteps, the creak of the floorboards. And then, the door swung open.

Oscar’s breath caught in his throat.

She stood there, blinking at him in sleepy confusion, dressed in nothing but his hoodie, a pair of socks, and—Jesus Christ—his old boxer shorts, worn as makeshift pyjamas.

His hoodie was too big on her, hanging off one shoulder, the sleeves bunched up where she’d pushed them past her wrists. The sight of it, of her, in his clothes like she always used to be, knocked the air from his lungs.

His throat felt tight. "Hi."

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him, like she wasn’t sure if he was real.

Oscar swallowed hard, heart hammering. "Can I come in?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed, gripping the edge of the door like she needed to steady herself. "What are you doing here?"

Her voice was quiet, still laced with sleep, but there was something else beneath it—something raw, something hesitant.

Oscar swallowed. "I—" He exhaled, shaking his head like even he couldn't believe it. "I needed to see you."

She blinked again, like she was still processing his sudden appearance. Then her brow furrowed slightly. "You were in China yesterday. You won your race. Now you’re here."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You watched?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Of course, I did."

Something in his chest squeezed tight. He didn't deserve that—didn't deserve her still watching, still caring. But he was selfish enough to let it fuel the courage he needed to say what he’d come here to say.

"I’ve been miserable," he admitted, voice rough. "Since the moment I let you walk away. Since the moment I realised I was losing you, and instead of doing something about it, I just let it happen. I thought I could handle it, you know? Thought I could just keep my head down, focus on racing, distract myself with the next flight, the next circuit, the next podium. But it didn’t work. None of it worked. I won, and it didn’t feel like winning, because you weren’t there. You weren’t insulting me for making you cry and ruining your makeup. I'd check my phone and see the time in London, and I’d realise I had nothing to text you anymore. I kept waiting for it to get easier, but it never did. And I—"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m saying, I didn’t plan this—"

And then she kissed him.

Just like that. No warning, no hesitation. She reached up, grabbed the front of his hoodie, and pulled him down to her. His words died instantly, swallowed by the warmth of her lips, by the way she pressed against him like she’d been waiting for this just as much as he had.

His bag hit the floor with a dull thud as his hands found her waist, gripping tight as he walked her backwards into the flat, not bothering to close the door. He had barley registered the sound of his bag, too caught up in the way she sighed against his mouth, the way her fingers curled into his hair, tugging just enough to send heat racing through him.

He backed her up until she hit the wall, a quiet gasp escaping her as he pressed closer, deepening the kiss. He’d had dreams about this. Stupid, torturous dreams where he’d wake up in hotel rooms alone, still reaching for her. But this—this was real. She was real, warm and soft under his touch, her nails raking lightly over his shoulder blades as his hands slid up beneath the fabric of his hoodie—his hoodie—to feel the warmth of her skin.

Then—

"Ahem."

They froze.

Oscar pulled back just enough to see over his shoulder, his stomach immediately plummeting.

Mrs Hart—her elderly neighbour—stood in the hallway, wrapped in a thick cardigan and holding a shopping bag. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"If you're going to take part in passionate rendezvous before 8 AM," she said dryly, "at least do it with the door closed."

Heat flooded Oscar’s face. He heard her let out a mortified laugh, peaking from in front of him just enough to mumble, "Sorry, Mrs Hart."

Mrs Hart hummed, clearly unimpressed, then shuffled off down the hallway, muttering something under her breath about "young people these days."

The second the front door clicked shut, she turned back to Oscar, biting her lip, eyes full of amusement. "That was—"

"Mortifying?" he supplied, still half-dazed from kissing her.

She grinned. "Hilarious."

And then she kissed him again.

Oscar was so gone for her.

He let out a breath, still slightly dazed, before remembering his bag was still abandoned in the corridor. He pulled away, bent down, grabbed it, and kicked the door shut properly this time. When he turned back, she was watching him, arms crossed, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"So," she said, tilting her head. "You flew across the world to tell me you’re miserable?"

Oscar exhaled a laugh, dropping his bag by the wall. "I guess I did."

"Idiot," she murmured, but there was no bite to it. Just fondness.

His chest ached. God, he’d missed her.

They stood there for a second, neither speaking, neither moving. Then, wordlessly, she reached for his hand.

She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t question. Just curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled.

Oscar followed without resistance, letting her lead him down the hall, into her bedroom, and straight to her bed. He barely had time to react before she gave him a firm shove, sending him tumbling onto the mattress with a surprised grunt.

She stood at the edge, hands on her hips, looking down at him with a raised brow. "First," she said, voice firm, "sleep. Those bags under your eyes are giving me a run for my money, and I’m a uni student."

Oscar huffed a laugh, opening his mouth to argue—only for her to crawl onto the bed, straddle him, and press her lips to his before he could get a single word out.

It wasn’t a soft kiss this time. It was deep, heated, like she was trying to make up for all the time they’d lost.

Oscar groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding under her hoodie, fingers skimming warm skin. He felt her shiver, heard the little gasp she let out when he pulled her closer, felt her shift slightly and—

Yeah. Yeah, she definitely felt that.

She broke the kiss with a breathless laugh, grabbing his wrists and shoving them away. "Naughty!" she scolded, grinning as she sat back. "First, we’re sleeping."

Oscar let out a dramatic groan, letting his head fall back against the pillows. "That’s just cruel. You’re a cruel woman."

She smirked, rolling off him and slipping under the duvet. "You’re the one who looks half dead. Get in."

Oscar stared at her for a moment, something warm curling in his chest. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed this—the casual intimacy, the way she just knew when he needed to rest, the way she could tease him one second and make his heart ache with how much he loved her the next.

He exhaled, then kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside her.

But Oscar didn’t hesitate. The second he was under the covers, he pulled her tight against him, slotting her perfectly against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, one hand splayed across her back, the other tangled in her hair as he breathed her in.

She was warm, soft, real.

For months, he’d fallen asleep with nothing but the hum of hotel air conditioning and the occasional distant city noise to keep him company. No whispered conversations under the covers, no sleepy kisses before sunrise, no warmth beside him. Just cold sheets and silence.

But now—now she was here. In his arms. Where she belonged.

She let out a small sigh, nuzzling into his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his side. "You know, I meant what I said earlier," she murmured.

Oscar hummed, his thumb brushing along her spine. "What?"

She tilted her head slightly, looking up at him with a teasing glint in her eye. "That you’re an idiot."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

She huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t argue, just curled in closer.

Within minutes, her breathing evened out, her body relaxing completely against his. Oscar lay awake a little longer, just holding her, letting it all sink in. The ache that had lived in his chest for months—the one he’d ignored, buried under podium celebrations and press conferences—finally eased.

No win, no pole position, and no championship could ever make Oscar feel as happy as he felt then and there.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @obxstiles @iimplicitt @carlossainzapologist @iamred-iamyellow @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @n0vazsq @dying-inside-but-its-classy @hzstry8 @oikarma @amyelevenn

[biolumien]

Tired and sleepy reader who gets affectionate 10x more than usual with soushiro...... fluff

notes: short and cute... soft and sweet... im very sleepy all the time. this speaks to me. obligatory soundtrack for this lil' thing is this album.

nights like these

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no warnings apply, they're just cute. word count: 808

“it’s 3 AM,” hoshina whispers, leaning close to your face. “you know that, right?” 

it’s been an ever-increasing habit of yours to call hoshina over right before you went to bed—you’d frequently call him over in the middle of the night, to increasingly later and later hours–and yet he’d show up each time, without fail. you’d texted him in the middle of the night, holding your phone close to your face, rubbing at your eye as you blearily texted for him to come over.

“mm,” you whine sleepily, reaching out to touch his face, letting your thumbs brush across his cheeks.. “hoshinaa.”

“yes?” hoshina’s voice was soft as he rested his hands on the bed, letting himself lean into your touches. as your thumbs brushed across the corners of his lips, you could feel the way his smile quirked upwards into your touch. one of his fangs poked out a little bit, teasingly biting the pad of your thumb. you whine, ever so softly, and he laughs fondly, pressing his face closer to yours. “what is it?” “stay,” you mumble. “don’t want you to go. stay here.”

“mm.” hoshina’s hands reached up to wrap around your wrists, his thumb brushing the back of your hands. “greedy. i still have things to do, you know.”

“no you don’t,” you protest, brushing your face against his. you can feel the way he shivers against your skin,  “‘m asking you to sleep with me, soshiro, what could be more important?”

“mm…” hoshina’s voice turns into a low drawl–you can feel the way his voice vibrates in his chest. “just don’t wanna get caught. the rest of the third division’s never gonna let this go if they find me…” though as he says this, he’s gently pushing at you ever so slightly, nudging you deeper into your bed, trying to make room for him. “c’mon, darling dearest. move a little bit for me.”

you shift backwards a little, yawning a bit as hoshina takes off his jacket, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him as he pulls up your covers, slotting himself neatly beside you. you yawn again, pressing your face into his collarbone as soon as he’s settled. for how lithe he is, his chest is hard, too–firm and tensed with muscle. you can feel the way his heart beats, slow and steady. 

he hums, wrapping one of his arms around you, pulling you closer.

“you’re so needy, y’know?” hoshina teases, running a hand through your hair. “what am i gonna do with you?”

“mmh,” you kiss his neck, and his skin is warm. he smells faintly of something sweet and clean, and he chuckles.

“hey, i’m talkin’ to you…” he yawns a bit, his body tensing a little bit as he entangles his legs with yours, leaning forward to bury his face in the nape of your neck. “mm…”

“how was work today?” you ask, gently touching at the nape of his neck. he feels warm, a tactile weight beneath your hands, and you can’t help but feel the desperate desire to swallow him fully, fully entangling yourself in him–till you wouldn’t be able to tell where you start and where he ends. 

“mm. fine. boring,” hoshina says. “filin’ paperwork keeps me up all night. needed t’write up a report. i’d much rather be out there fightin’.” he presses a kiss to your neck as well, almost biting down against your skin. you shudder, entangling your hands in his hair. “how about you?”

“boring,” you respond. you tilt hoshina’s head up slightly, blinking up at him. his scarlet eyes were ever-so-slightly narrowed with sleep, his expression intense even though his body belied his weariness, how exhausted he really was. but his face is so fond–a fondness that makes your throat squeeze, almost. you lean up to slot your lips together, and he hums ever so slightly, moving his lips against yours sleepily.

“this is the highlight of my day,” you murmur against his lips, and he chuckles.

“sap,” he teases. 

“mm. shut it, you. you’re the one in my bed right now,” you mumble, pressing closer to him.

“only after you asked,” hoshina says, but his hand around you is firm, protective–possibly even a little possessive as it moves to the small of your back. 

“negotiation’s one of my best traits,” you tease.

“it is,” hoshina says, ever so fondly. his hand reaches up to brush your hair from your face. “n’you’re lucky i love you, and you’re cute when you ask.”

you hum, leaning into his touch, kissing his palm. 

“i’m sleepy,” you complain, a pout coming across your lips.

“then sleep,” hoshina says, kissing you again on the lips. “i’ll be here.”

“mhm,” you mumble, letting your eyes fall shut as you tuck yourself against hoshina, feeling the warm embrace of sleep take you into its arms.

[amkyor]

Hey! I'm a big fan, annnd I have a bakugou x y/n idea... where bakugou hasn't been paying attention to y/n his girlfriend lately and it's been lonely.... so y/n is watching a romance anime with Mina and y/n says... "I wish I had that"....and then Mina ask if she loves bakugou and she says ...."hes okay"..... but the whole time bakugou and his friend kirishima were listening....and bakugou his mind is like "I'm a bad boyfriend? Does she love me? Im...okay?"

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY

Synopsis: Bakugo has been distant toward his girlfriend (you), and she realizes how much it is actually affecting her while watching a romance movie that includes the love that she wishes she had.

Short note: Chapter 23 of my Bakugo x Reader Fanfiction is out now! If you like my stories on here, I'm sure you'll like my fanfiction, so go check it out! The link is at the end of this post!!

Distance Between Us:

It all started slowly, too slow for you to realize.

The day you started to notice it was when it was late in the evening, and you were sitting on the couch, waiting for Bakugo to come home.

He had promised to spend the evening with you after work, but as the hours ticked by, your excitement turned into frustration. Finally, you heard the front door open.

Bakugo walked in, still in his hero uniform, his face tired and serious. "Sorry, I got held up at work. Some idiot caused a mess in the city," he muttered, tossing his gloves onto the table.

You smiled, trying to be understanding. "It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home now. Want me to heat up the dinner I made for us?"

"Not hungry," he replied shortly, already pulling out his phone. "I need to check the patrol schedule for tomorrow. There’s a lot going on."

You sighed, your shoulders dropping. "Katsuki, can’t it wait? You’ve been working all day. We barely get time together."

But he didn’t seem to hear you, his eyes glued to the screen. "Huh? Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

The evening dragged on, and though he was physically present, his mind remained consumed by hero work.

You ended up eating dinner alone while he sat at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop.

---

Another time was when he had made plans out of nowhere to hang out with his friends and ditch out on the two of you had planned.

It was a rare weekend when Bakugo didn’t have patrol or missions lined up.

You had planned a quiet day together—something simple, just the two of you.

But as you were setting up breakfast, his phone buzzed on the counter.

Bakugo glanced at the screen and smirked. "It’s Kirishima. He wants to hit the gym and grab lunch afterward. I’ll be back later."

Your stomach sank. "I thought today was for us? We haven’t had a day off together in weeks, Katsuki."

He blinked as if realizing for the first time that you might have feelings about this. "We can hang out later. It’s not like I’m gone all day. Plus, I haven’t seen the guys in a while."

You bit your lip, trying to keep your disappointment in check. "But we haven’t seen each other in a while either."

He paused for a second, then ruffled your hair in a halfhearted gesture. "Come on, it’s not a big deal. I’ll see you tonight." Before you could argue further, he was already grabbing his gym bag and heading out the door.

---

Another day came, and he did the same.

Bakugo’s dedication to his work often left him exhausted, and his sleep schedule was all over the place.

One night, you stayed up late, waiting for him to come to bed.

You had something important to talk about, but he was still in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, catching up on sleep.

"Katsuki," you called softly, standing in the doorway.

He grunted, barely lifting his head. "What is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something. It’s been on my mind for a while."

He groaned, sitting up slightly. "Can it wait? I just got back from a double shift, and I’m dead tired."

"But it’s important," you insisted, stepping closer.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Y/n, I can’t deal with anything serious right now. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?"

The next day came and went, and so did the conversation. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever get the timing right.

---

Then, of course, came another.

One evening, Bakugo was in the backyard, practicing his explosions while you watched from the patio.

You had been waiting for him to finish so you could spend some quality time together, but he was completely absorbed in his training.

"Hey, Katsuki," you called out, waving at him. "How much longer are you going to be out here?"

"Not now, babe," he shouted back, his voice carrying over the sound of crackling explosions. "I’m almost done!"

Almost turned into an hour, and by the time he came inside, you were curled up on the couch, half-asleep.

He walked past you, grabbing a water bottle from the kitchen.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," he said, but there was no apology in his tone.

You gave him a small smile, too tired to argue. "It’s okay," you mumbled, though deep down, you wondered if he even realized how much you had been waiting for him.

---

In each of these scenarios, Bakugo’s priorities—whether work, friends, or personal routines—seemed to overshadow his time with you. While his intentions might not be malicious, his actions often left you feeling overlooked and craving the attention he gave to everything else in his life.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The evening was calm, the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow across the counters.

You stood at the stove, carefully stirring the simmering pot of stew. The gentle aroma of sautéed vegetables, rich broth, and spices filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft hum of the overhead fan.

Tonight, you had decided to prepare something special—something hearty and comforting, like the conversation you hoped to have with Bakugo.

It had been a while since the two of you had truly spent time together.

His hero work had consumed most of his days, leaving you with fleeting moments of his presence.

You understood, of course, the weight of his responsibilities, but that didn’t make the distance any easier.

So, as a gesture of love and an attempt to reconnect, you had spent the better part of the evening preparing this meal.

The kitchen was cozy, lit by the soft glow of under-cabinet lights.

Plates were set neatly on the table, silverware arranged perfectly beside them.

A bottle of chilled sparkling water stood in the center, and the faint crackle of the stovetop added a soothing rhythm to the room.

You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. He should be home any minute now.

You adjusted the flame under the pot, letting the stew bubble gently, and moved to check on the freshly baked bread cooling on the counter.

The sound of the front door opening broke the quiet, followed by the rustling of heavy boots on the doormat.

Your heart gave a small flutter at the familiar noise.

He was home.

You didn’t look up from your task, your focus fixed on the pot as you gave it one last stir.

Toward the front door, the faint creak of the door closing reached your ears, followed by the soft thud of a duffle bag hitting the floor.

Bakugo’s presence filled the space immediately, even without a word.

The faint scent of smoke and ash mingled with the aroma of dinner, a signature of his return after a long day on patrol.

You heard the stretch of leather as he raised his arms high above his head, likely working out the stiffness from hours of action.

His footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor as he made his way down the hall.

You could picture him rubbing the back of his neck, his hair likely a mess from the day’s exertion.

The sound of his approach grew louder, each step deliberate yet unhurried, as if he were easing back into the calm of home.

You stayed at the stove, stirring slowly, waiting for him to join you in the kitchen, the moment of connection hanging in the air like the steam rising from the pot.

The clatter of the wooden spoon against the pot ceased as you set it down gently on the counter.

Wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist, you turned toward the kitchen's pillared entrance.

The soft shuffle of Bakugo’s steps nearing the kitchen tugged at your curiosity, and you couldn’t help but abandon your task momentarily.

You stepped around the corner, leaning casually against the frame of the kitchen entrance.

Resting your hand lightly on the wall, you peeked out toward him.

The sight of Bakugo, mid-stretch with his arms behind his head, immediately brought a fond smile to your lips.

His usual scowl was softened by a tiredness that clung to him, his messy ash-blond hair catching the dim light of the hallway.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck, likely sore from a long day.

His broad shoulders rolled slightly as he worked out the tension, the faint sound of his knuckles popping filling the quiet space.

The corners of your lips curled further upward as you admired him in his element—worn out yet still exuding the confidence and strength you loved about him.

Before you could say anything, his crimson gaze lifted, finally catching sight of you standing there.

His expression didn’t shift much—just a subtle raise of his brows as if to acknowledge your presence.

You straightened slightly, your smile warm and inviting as you prepared to greet him.

But before you could utter a word, he spoke first, his gravelly voice breaking the silence.

“I’m going upstairs to shower. Gotta get this grime off my body.” His tone was matter-of-fact, and he started walking toward you without breaking stride, cracking his knuckles as he moved.

Your smile didn’t falter as he approached, though the hurriedness of his words made you hesitate. “Oh, well, that’s great,” you began, your voice light and teasing. “But don’t take too long becau—”

“Oh yeah, by the way, before I forget,” he interrupted, his voice cutting through yours without a hint of malice, just his usual bluntness. “The gang and I are gonna hang out later, so I won’t be home for long.”

The abruptness of his words hit you like a splash of cold water. Your mouth hung slightly open mid-sentence, the rest of your words caught in your throat.

Bakugo’s gaze didn’t linger long, already focused ahead as though his announcement was nothing out of the ordinary.

Bakugo’s heavy boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he approached you, his expression unreadable but relaxed.

He stopped just in front of you, his tall frame towering slightly over yours.

The familiar scent of ash and sweat lingered faintly, a testament to his grueling day.

Without a word, his hand reached out, rough but warm, and landed gently on your head.

His fingers ruffled through your hair in a way that was both playful and dismissive, tousling it slightly.

A light smirk played on his lips as he pulled his hand back, his crimson eyes meeting yours briefly.

“I know you can handle things here, so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his voice low and casual, like he hadn’t just brushed past the idea of spending time with you.

As you stood out in front of him, the confidence and courage you had gathered from cooking in the kitchen had disappeared.

Now that you felt this way, there was no way you were going to bring up spending time with him over dinner.

Even though you had spent all evening preparing this relaxing for the both of you to enjoy, you couldn’t bring yourself to to tell him.

You were scared that if you had opened up, he might have gotten angry and dismissed all your worries with his furrowed brows.

Your heart sank a little at his words, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to let it show.

He turned on his heel without a second glance, his footsteps carrying him toward the staircase that led to the second floor of your shared home.

As he walked, his broad shoulders swayed slightly, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the tension that suddenly gripped your chest.

You stood frozen for a moment, your mouth hanging slightly open, the words you wanted to say stuck somewhere in your throat.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, willing them away. You hated how they burned, how they threatened to spill over.

This wasn’t the first time Bakugo had brushed things off, but tonight, with the effort you’d put into dinner and the mounting distance you felt between you two, it stung more than usual.

He reached the first step of the staircase, his hand brushing against the railing as he prepared to ascend.

At you stood, something inside you snapped—a small but resolute voice urging you not to let the moment slip by.

Swallowing hard, you gathered the courage you had left, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to cut through the air.

“Can I go too?”

Bakugo paused mid-step, his back still facing you, as the silence stretched between you both.

For a moment, you wondered if he had even heard you or if he’d continue up the stairs without a response.

Then, he turned his head slightly, revealing his side profile, his crimson eyes glancing at you.

“You wanna come?” he asked, his tone even and unreadable, a single brow raised in surprise.

Your hands instinctively came together, fidgeting as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Gathering a bit more courage, you glanced up at him, noticing his blank expression.

It only lasted a second before you looked down again, unsure how your request would be received. “I mean, if that’s okay…”

Bakugo stared at you for a beat longer, his brow still raised as if trying to gauge your seriousness.

Then, his features softened, his raised brow lowering as he gave a small, nonchalant nod.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” he said, his voice carrying a casualness that made it hard to tell how he really felt.

Without another word, he turned back toward the stairs.

Relief washed over you, and a small smile crept onto your face as you followed his movements with your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but his agreement made you feel a little better, a small step toward closing the gap that had been forming between you two.

As Bakugo reached the first step of the staircase, he stopped again, his hand on the railing.

He turned his head just enough to look back at you, his expression neutral but firm.

“I’m leaving by 6, so get ready,” he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Then, without waiting for a response, he ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing through the quiet house.

You stood there in the kitchen, your smile slowly fading as his words sank in.

Glancing at the half-finished dinner you’d worked so hard on, your arms dropped to your sides, mirroring the exhaustion settling in your chest.

The kitchen felt colder now, emptier, as you stood there alone, staring at the plans you’d made that now felt insignificant.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake off the weight of disappointment, forcing yourself to move and tidy up the counter.

But no matter how much you willed yourself to focus on the task at hand, the sting of his casual dismissal lingered, leaving a quiet ache in its wake.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The soft hum of the Porsche's engine filled the quiet evening air as Bakugo sat in the driver’s seat, his hand drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel.

His gaze occasionally flicked toward the house, his sharp crimson eyes scanning for any sign of you.

The minutes ticked by, and though he didn’t say it out loud, he was growing impatient.

But there was a part of him that understood why you were taking your time—he had sprung this last-minute outing on you, and you deserved a moment to get ready properly.

Inside, you were slipping on your white Converse, carefully tying the laces with precision.

The finishing touch to your outfit had just been added—a chic combination of blue jeans, a navy blue tank top, and a white cardigan that fell perfectly against your frame.

You smoothed down the fabric, giving yourself a once-over in the mirror by the door.

Your navy blue purse rested comfortably on your shoulder, and the messy bun you’d styled earlier sat perfectly atop your head, with the white headband completing the look.

Satisfied, you grabbed your keys and reached for the door handle.

As you stepped outside, the soft glow of the porch light illuminated your figure.

The evening air was cool against your skin, and the faint scent of freshly cut grass lingered.

You glanced toward the sleek black Porsche parked in the driveway, where Bakugo sat waiting for you.

Inside the car, Bakugo looked up as the light from the open door seeped out, drawing his attention.

His sharp gaze landed on you, and for a moment, his breath hitched.

You looked stunning—effortlessly chic yet understated, the kind of beauty that didn’t need to try too hard.

The way the soft curls framed your face, the navy blue of your tank top complementing your skin, and the casual elegance of your outfit made his heart skip a beat.

He blinked, trying to maintain his usual composure, but the faintest tint of pink crept onto his cheeks, betraying him.

It was subtle, just enough to hint at the effect you had on him, but it was there.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as he tore his eyes away for a brief second, trying to recover.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the dashboard as if it could somehow distract him.

But his gaze inevitably drifted back to you, his expression softening in a way only you could bring out in him.

He didn't say anything just yet—he wasn’t the type to gush—but the way his cheeks betrayed a rare blush spoke volumes.

The soft hum of the Porsche’s engine was steady as Bakugo sat, his hand draped nonchalantly over the steering wheel while the other rested against his mouth.

His sharp crimson eyes flicked away from you as you descended the steps toward the car, trying to keep his focus elsewhere.

The blush that had crept onto his cheeks earlier lingered faintly, and though he wouldn’t admit it, seeing you like this had thrown him off his usual composure.

You opened the passenger door with care, stepping into the car and adjusting yourself in the plush seat.

The faint scent of Bakugo’s cologne mingled with the new-car smell, giving the cabin a warmth that was uniquely him.

As you closed the door gently behind you, you glanced up to see him leaning against the driver’s side, his elbow propped on the car door and his hand casually gripping the wheel.

His relaxed posture was natural, but the way his eyes darted toward you from the corners of his vision betrayed a subtle curiosity.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said softly, brushing a loose curl behind your ear.

Your voice broke the quiet tension, and you weren’t sure if you imagined his lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone gruff yet calm, as he adjusted himself in the seat and placed both hands on the wheel.

Hearing the simplicity of his response made you smile, a quiet warmth blooming in your chest.

You carefully removed your bag from your shoulder, placing it neatly on your lap.

Bakugo, meanwhile, shifted the car into reverse, the soft rumble of the engine vibrating beneath you as he backed out of the driveway with precision.

You stole a quick glance at him from the corners of your eyes.

The streetlights outside cast a warm, golden hue that framed his sharp jawline and stern features as he focused on maneuvering the car.

He looked so effortlessly confident, so in control—it was hard not to admire him.

Reaching up, you flipped open the vanity mirror above your head, giving yourself a quick once-over.

You smoothed down a stray curl and checked your lipstick, making sure everything was still in place.

Satisfied, you closed the mirror with a soft click and adjusted in your seat, letting your gaze wander back to him.

The quiet of the ride was broken only by the sound of the tires rolling over asphalt and the faint hum of the radio playing low in the background.

You bit your lip lightly, debating whether or not to say what had been on your mind.

Finally, you took a small breath, your fingers beginning to fidget nervously with the strap of your bag.

“Sooo…” you began, your voice tentative as you glanced out the window, gathering your thoughts.

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his focus remaining on the road ahead. His silence urged you to continue, so you did.

“How do I look?” you asked, your tone light yet tinged with curiosity.

Your gaze flickered toward him briefly before quickly looking back down at your lap, where your fingers continued to toy with your bag strap.

The quiet hum of the car filled the space between you and Bakugo, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

His eyes were fixed on the road, one hand on the wheel, while the other rested lazily on the gear shift.

You waited patiently, watching him through your peripheral vision, hoping for some kind of reaction to your question.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze momentarily darting toward you before returning to the street ahead.

The streetlights flickered as they passed, casting warm, golden hues across his sharp features.

His silence stretched on, and for a moment, you wondered if he hadn’t heard you.

Finally, Bakugo turned his head slightly, his crimson eyes flickering toward you.

His gaze traveled up and down, taking in the effort you’d put into your outfit—the way your cardigan fell over your tank top, the way your jeans fit perfectly, and the way you’d styled your hair just so.

His expression remained stoic, but his eyes lingered just a beat longer than usual before he turned back to the road.

“You look,” he began, his voice even though there was a slight edge of hesitation.

He glanced at you again, briefly meeting your expectant gaze before focusing back on the street.

You could see his jaw tighten slightly, as if he were searching for the right words. “Good.”

That was it. Just one single, lackluster word.

Your shoulders sank immediately, the corners of your mouth pulling down as disappointment washed over you.

You slumped back into the passenger seat, crossing your arms loosely over your chest and shifting your gaze out the window.

You had spent so much time getting ready, hoping that maybe this time, he’d notice—really notice—and say something that would make you feel special.

But “good” was all you got.

Bakugo, on the other hand, was far from unaffected, though he certainly didn’t show it.

His mind was racing, replaying the moment he’d glanced at you and the way your face had lit up with hope.

His knuckles tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and a bead of sweat formed at his temple as frustration with himself began to build.

His brows furrowed as he stole another glance at you.

You were staring out the window now, your expression unreadable but your body language screaming disappointment.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the wheel tighter.

You remained quiet, sinking further into your seat as the car rolled through the neighborhood streets.

Your fingers toyed with the edge of your cardigan, your mind replaying the moment over and over.

Maybe you’d set yourself up for disappointment.

Maybe this was just who he was—gruff, blunt, and not the type to shower you with compliments.

Still, you couldn’t help the small ache in your chest.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched as he continued to drive, the silence between you both growing heavier with each passing second.

───────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

The drive to Kirishima’s house was silent, the tension lingering like an unspoken weight between you and Bakugo.

He didn’t try to make conversation, and honestly, you weren’t sure you’d be able to respond even if he did.

Your disappointment sat heavy in your chest, though you were doing your best to push it down and keep your composure.

When the car finally rolled to a stop in front of Kirishima’s house, Bakugo shifted into park and stepped out without a word, slamming his door behind him.

You sighed softly, your fingers gripping the strap of your purse as you reached for the handle of the passenger door.

Opening it, you slid out of the car, closing it gently behind you.

Bakugo was already several steps ahead, his strong strides carrying him toward the house without so much as a glance back at you.

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight as you followed behind him, your fingers nervously playing with the strap of your purse.

You felt small and distant, the space between you and Bakugo feeling far more than just physical.

As Bakugo reached the front porch, the sound of laughter and chatter drifted through the air, spilling out from behind the closed door.

The lively atmosphere of the gathering inside only seemed to amplify the quiet distance you felt from him.

Bakugo raised a hand and knocked on the door firmly, stepping back slightly as he waited.

You stopped a few paces behind him, your hands gripping your purse strap tightly as your mind raced.

You were determined to stand tall, to keep your emotions in check and not let anyone see how you were feeling.

The door swung open after a few seconds, revealing Kirishima’s grinning face.

His red hair was as wild as ever, and his cheerful energy was almost infectious.

“Yo, man! You made it!” Kirishima greeted Bakugo with a hearty slap on the shoulder before turning his attention to you. “Hey! Good to see you too!”

“Hey, Kiri,” you said softly, forcing a small smile as you stepped closer to the door.

“Come on in! Everyone’s already here,” Kirishima said, stepping aside to let the two of you in.

You followed Bakugo inside, the warmth and energy of the room enveloping you immediately.

Mina, Jirou, Denki, and Sero were sprawled out in the living room, laughing and chatting amongst themselves.

Mina was the first to notice your arrival, her eyes lighting up as she waved enthusiastically.

“Hey, you two!” Mina called out, jumping up from her seat and rushing over to you.

She wrapped you in a quick hug, her bubbly personality as bright as always. “You look so cute tonight! I love your outfit!”

“Thanks, Mina,” you replied, your smile faltering slightly as you glanced toward Bakugo.

He was already making his way toward the group, offering a brief nod of acknowledgment before settling into a seat near Sero.

Denki grinned, leaning back on the couch and tossing a chip into his mouth. “Look who finally decided to show up. We thought you might’ve bailed on us, Bakugo.”

“Shut it, Sparky,” Bakugo shot back, though there was no real bite in his tone.

As the group erupted into laughter, you found yourself lingering near the edge of the room, unsure where to place yourself.

Mina noticed your hesitation and grabbed your arm gently.

“Come sit with us! You can’t just stand there looking all pretty and quiet,” she teased, leading you toward the group.

You let her guide you, settling into a spot on the couch beside Jirou.

The lively conversation around you was a stark contrast to the swirling emotions in your chest, but you did your best to blend in, laughing when it felt appropriate and nodding along to the banter.

All the while, your eyes occasionally flicked toward Bakugo.

He was laughing with Sero and Denki, his usual gruff demeanor softened slightly by the presence of his friends.

But not once did he look your way, and that small detail gnawed at you more than you wanted to admit.

You inhaled deeply, forcing yourself to focus on the moment and not the ache in your chest.

Tonight was about being with friends, and you were determined to make the most of it, even if things with Bakugo felt more complicated than ever.

You sat on the couch, nestled between Jirou and Mina, trying to focus on their lively conversation.

Bakugo was across the room, laughing with Sero and Denki as if the weight of the world didn’t exist.

You glanced at him briefly, your chest tightening before quickly averting your eyes back to Mina, who was animatedly recounting a story about a recent date with Kirishima.

“So, get this,” Mina said, her face lit with excitement. “Kiri and I went to this new arcade last week, right? And they had this claw machine he swore he could beat. It was filled with these little red dragon plushies—totally his thing, you know?”

Jirou smirked, leaning back against the couch. “Let me guess. He spent way too much money trying to win one?”

“Way too much!” Mina exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. “But he finally got it, and he was so proud of himself. It was adorable.” She giggled, her expression softening.

“Honestly, though, it’s not even about the claw machine. Kiri and I just… we have fun, you know? We go out, we talk about everything.”

Jirou nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That’s exactly how it is with me and Denki. He’s a dork, but he’s my dork. We go to concerts, hang out at record stores, and just… talk. Like, really talk. He tells me about his day, his dreams, even the dumb stuff that happens during patrols. It’s nice, being so connected.”

The warmth in their voices as they spoke about their relationships was palpable, and it made you feel like a shadow in their light.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of the tightness in your throat.

“And you,” Mina said, turning her bright eyes toward you. “How are things with you and Bakugo?”

Jirou tilted her head, her expression curious but kind. “Yeah, how’s it going? You two seem solid.”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out at first.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your cardigan, and you forced a smile, even as your chest felt like it was caving in.

“Oh, we’re fine,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched. You cleared your throat quickly, trying to steady yourself. “Everything’s good. Really good.”

Mina beamed. “That’s great! You two are like, the power couple. I mean, he’s Bakugo—grumpy as hell but so in love with you. It’s obvious.”

“Totally,” Jirou added, nodding. “You balance each other out, right? He’s all intensity, and you’re like this calming presence. It works.”

You laughed softly, the sound hollow to your own ears. “Yeah, it works,” you echoed.

They bought it, smiling warmly at you before diving back into their own banter.

But inside, you felt like you were crumbling.

The truth was, things weren’t fine.

They hadn’t been for a while. Bakugo’s constant focus on work, his friends, and his own world had left you feeling like an afterthought.

You glanced at him again.

He was leaning back in his chair, laughing at something Denki said, his sharp features softened by the rare smile on his face.

It was a side of him you loved, but right now, it only made the ache in your chest worse.

Forcing yourself to stay present, you turned back to Mina and Jirou, nodding along to their conversation.

You couldn’t let them see the truth—not here, not now.

So you plastered on your smile and pretended everything was fine, even as the weight of your unspoken feelings threatened to crush you.

---

An hour passed as you, Mina, and Jirou chatted away about everything under the sun—relationships, patrol stories, and even a hilarious moment when Denki shocked himself trying to fix a broken lamp.

Despite the warmth of their company, a small part of you still felt detached, your earlier feelings lingering like a shadow.

Mina, ever the bubbly one, suddenly perked up. “Hey, I just thought of something! Let’s go to the other room and watch a movie! I’ve been dying to see that new romance everyone’s talking about. What do you think?”

Jirou shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face. “Sounds good to me. I could use a break from all the noise out there.”

You hesitated, but the thought of getting away from the others, even for a little while, seemed appealing. “Yeah, sure,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

The three of you made your way to a quieter room down the hall.

It was cozier than the bustling main area, with soft lighting and a plush couch that wrapped around most of the room.

The atmosphere immediately felt more intimate and calm, a perfect escape.

Mina grabbed the remote and flopped onto one side of the couch. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

Jirou settled next to her, her legs tucked beneath her while you took the other end of the couch.

The movie started, its opening scenes filled with charming banter and budding romance.

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the story drawing you in.

As the movie progressed, the lighthearted moments gave way to more emotional scenes.

The characters faced challenges, their love tested by misunderstandings and miscommunications.

Then, the pivotal scene arrived.

The male lead stood in the rain, his face etched with regret as he argued with the female lead.

Her voice broke as she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “You don’t get it! I feel invisible to you!” she cried, her words hitting too close to home for your comfort.

Your chest tightened as you watched her crumble, her emotions raw and unfiltered.

The male lead, realizing his mistake, stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she sobbed against his chest.

Your heart ached, the scene striking a chord that you couldn’t ignore.

The floodgates opened, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face.

Your breathing grew shallow, and your palms began to sweat as you clutched the couch cushion beside you.

Mina and Jirou, engrossed in the movie, didn’t seem to notice your reaction at first.

But as you sniffled quietly, Jirou glanced over, her expression softening. “Hey, you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle.

You quickly wiped your cheeks, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… really emotional,” you said, your voice wavering slightly.

Mina turned her head, concern flickering in her eyes. “It’s okay to cry, you know. Scenes like this get me every time,” she said, offering you a reassuring smile.

You nodded, appreciating their kindness but feeling exposed nonetheless.

The movie continued, but your mind was elsewhere.

The female lead’s words echoed in your head, intertwining with your own unspoken feelings.

“I feel invisible to you.”

The weight of those words settled in your chest, and though you tried to focus on the screen, the tears wouldn’t stop.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep it together, but the truth was, you felt more vulnerable than ever.

The tears came harder, no longer quiet sniffles but soft, trembling sobs that you couldn’t hold back.

The scene on the screen blurred as your vision clouded with tears, and your chest felt impossibly heavy.

Mina and Jirou both turned toward you, their expressions shifting from casual concern to alarm.

“Whoa, hey… are you okay?” Jirou asked, leaning closer, her voice gentle but tinged with worry.

Mina’s brows furrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She grabbed the remote and paused the movie, the room falling into silence except for your shaky breaths.

She scooted closer to you, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

“Alright,” Mina said firmly, her tone serious but warm. “What’s going on? This isn’t just about the movie, is it?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to wipe the tears away with the back of your hand, but they just kept coming.

“It’s nothing,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jirou gave you a skeptical look. “Come on, don’t do that. You’re obviously upset.”

Mina nodded, her grip on your arm tightening just slightly in encouragement. “Yeah, we’re here for you. So whatever it is, just say it.”

For a moment, you hesitated.

The lump in your throat made it hard to speak, and you didn’t want to burden them with your feelings.

But the way they looked at you, genuinely concerned and ready to listen, broke down the last of your defenses.

“It’s… it’s Bakugo,” you finally admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks. “I just… I feel like we’re drifting apart.”

Mina’s eyes softened, and Jirou tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful.

“What do you mean? Did something happen?” Mina asked, leaning forward, her tone gentle now.

You took a shaky breath, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I don’t know… it’s like he’s always so busy, and when he’s home, it’s like I’m not even there. He doesn’t notice when I try to do things for him. I cooked dinner tonight, hoping we could eat together and talk, but he just brushed it off and left to hang out with you guys.”

Mina’s face fell, a pang of guilt crossing her features. Jirou’s lips pressed together, her brow furrowing.

“I know he’s a hero, and I know his job is demanding, but… I just feel so invisible to him sometimes. Like I’m not a priority,” you continued, your voice trembling. “And I’m trying so hard to be okay with it, but it’s just… it’s hard.”

Mina reached for your hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize things were like this.”

Jirou nodded, her gaze serious. “That sounds really tough. You shouldn’t have to feel like that, especially not with someone who’s supposed to care about you.”

You sniffled, grateful for their support, but still feeling the weight of your emotions. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I love him, but… it feels like he’s slipping away.”

Mina wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting hug. “You’re not alone in this, okay? We’ll figure it out. And honestly, Bakugo needs to hear this too. He probably doesn’t even realize how much he’s hurting you.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “Yeah, he’s not exactly the most emotionally aware guy, but he cares about you. You just have to tell him how you feel.”

Their words brought a small measure of comfort, but the thought of confronting Bakugo about your feelings still terrified you.

You knew they were right, though. Something had to change.

You sat there in Mina’s embrace, your tears slowly subsiding, though your chest still felt tight.

The weight of their words lingered, and you knew they were right.

As terrifying as it seemed, you had to talk to Bakugo.

But how? He wasn’t exactly the type to sit down and have a heart-to-heart.

Mina pulled back slightly, her warm hands resting on your shoulders as she looked you in the eye. “You have to tell him,” she said firmly.

“And not in a ‘hinting’ kind of way. Lay it all out. He’s not good at picking up subtle stuff.”

Jirou nodded, leaning back on the couch. “Yeah, Bakugo’s not gonna magically figure it out. But if you’re honest with him, I think he’ll listen. He’s stubborn, but he’s not heartless.”

You sniffled, wiping your face with the sleeve of your cardigan. “I just… I don’t want to come off as needy or like I don’t support him. I know how hard he works.”

Mina sighed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. This isn’t about being needy. This is about being in a relationship where you feel seen and loved. You’re allowed to have needs, too.”

Jirou added, “And honestly? If he doesn’t get that, then that’s on him. Relationships are about both people putting in effort. It’s not all on you.”

You nodded slowly, their words sinking in.

It wasn’t easy to hear, but deep down, you knew they were right.

You couldn’t keep bottling everything up and hoping things would magically improve.

Mina smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Look, Bakugo might be a hothead, but he’s not a bad guy. If he knew you were feeling this way, I think he’d do something about it. But you’ve got to give him the chance to step up.”

You sighed, fiddling with the strap of your purse. “I guess I’ll try talking to him later… when we’re alone.”

“Good,” Mina said with a nod, her tone encouraging. “And if you need backup, you know where to find us.”

Jirou smirked slightly. “Yeah, we’ll set him straight if he doesn’t get the message.”

The three of you shared a small laugh, the tension easing just a bit.

Mina grabbed the remote and turned the movie off completely, standing up and stretching.

“Alright, let’s get back to the others before they start wondering what we’re up to.”

You nodded, standing up and smoothing out your clothes.

As the three of you made your way back to the main living room, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you.

Anxiety, hope, and determination all competed for space in your heart.

As you stepped into the room, Bakugo was standing near the corner with Kirishima, laughing at something Sero had said.

His usual sharp smirk was etched on his face, but there was something different in the way his eyes flickered toward you, a hint of something unreadable beneath his confident exterior.

For a moment, you just watched him, debating how you’d navigate the rest of the evening while the conversation with Mina and Jirou still echoed in your mind.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Bakugo had heard everything.

It wasn’t intentional.

On his way to the bathroom earlier, he had walked past the closed door of the cozy room where you and the girls had been talking.

At first, he hadn’t thought much of it—just chatter from Mina and Jirou, nothing unusual.

But then he caught the sound of your voice, trembling slightly, and his feet had stopped.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Really, he hadn’t.

But something in your tone made him pause, leaning against the hallway wall just out of sight.

He listened as Mina and Jirou pressed you about how things were going between the two of you.

He heard the way your voice wavered when you said everything was fine—so unconvincing that even he could tell it was a lie.

And then came the confession.

You weren’t happy.

You felt ignored, neglected.

You felt like he didn’t see you anymore.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

You, the person he cared about most, felt like you were slipping away, and he hadn’t even noticed.

His knuckles clenched, and his jaw tightened as he leaned his head back against the wall.

Guilt surged through him, hot and unrelenting. He wasn’t great with emotions; he knew that.

But hearing you spill your heart out to your friends, feeling like he didn’t care enough—it stung more than he wanted to admit.

When Mina and Jirou encouraged you to talk to him, he heard the hesitation in your voice, the fear of being seen as needy or overbearing.

It made his chest ache. You should never feel like that—not with him.

He had walked away before you left the room, needing a moment to collect himself.

By the time he rejoined the group, his mind was racing.

As you stepped into the living room, Mina nudged you gently with her elbow. “You’ve got this,” she whispered before heading to the group, leaving you to take a deep breath and square your shoulders.

Bakugo, standing near the corner, glanced your way.

His sharp smirk remained, but his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual, softening for the briefest second before he turned back to Kirishima and the others.

He didn’t say anything, but in the back of his mind, he was already planning.

He wouldn’t let you feel like this again. Not if he could help it.

---

The night had wound down, and one by one, everyone began saying their goodbyes.

Mina and Kirishima gave you tight hugs, Mina giving you a reassuring smile as if to silently remind you of the conversation you’d had.

Jirou patted your arm, her subtle way of showing she was rooting for you.

Bakugo, meanwhile, was his usual self—casual nods, a few gruff “See ya’s,” and a fist bump for Kirishima.

His energy seemed as steady as ever, though you noticed the way his eyes flickered toward you more than once, a slight crease in his brow that he didn’t quite hide.

As the two of you made your way to his car, the quietness of the night enveloped you.

The cool breeze brushed against your skin, and the sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel filled the silence.

You felt Bakugo’s presence ahead of you, his confident stride unchanging, though he occasionally glanced back to make sure you were keeping up.

When you reached the car, he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the doors, and slid into the driver’s seat.

You followed, gently closing the passenger door behind you and placing your bag on the floor by your feet.

The faint scent of leather and his cologne filled the space, a scent you usually found comforting.

Without a word, Bakugo started the engine.

The low rumble of the car filled the stillness as he pulled out of the driveway and onto the street.

His hands rested on the wheel, firm but relaxed, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, trying to read his expression, but it was the same stoic mask he always wore.

The weight of the evening felt heavy in your chest, and despite the warmth of the car, you felt a chill run through you.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the engine the only sound between you.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt stuck in your throat.

You fidgeted with your fingers, your gaze shifting between the passing streetlights outside and Bakugo’s profile.

He hadn’t said much since you left Kirishima’s house, and it left you wondering if he’d noticed the distance between you—or if it even mattered to him at all.

Bakugo’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel as he drove, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he was working through something in his mind.

His gaze remained steady, but every now and then, you noticed his eyes flicker toward you, though he said nothing.

The silence was deafening, and with every passing second, it felt like the space between you grew larger.

Finally, unable to take the tension anymore, you shifted in your seat and let out a soft sigh, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Thanks for driving,” you said, your tone polite but distant.

He grunted in response, a low “Yeah,” his focus still on the road.

The quiet settled again, heavier this time, and you found yourself staring out the window, the lights of the city blurring past.

You wanted to say more, to breach the gap between you, but something held you back.

Bakugo, meanwhile, stole another glance at you, his expression unreadable.

He wanted to speak, to address the weight in the air, but the words felt foreign to him.

For now, he just drove, the road stretching ahead, both of you caught in your own thoughts.

The car hummed softly as the city lights flickered past, but the silence between you and Bakugo felt louder than anything else.

You leaned your head against the cool glass of the window, your eyes fixed on the blurred scenery.

Your hand rested on your lap, fingers nervously fidgeting with your nails as your thoughts raced.

What had started as disappointment had now spiraled into uncertainty.

You couldn’t shake the weight of the conversation with Mina and Jirou, nor the growing chasm between you and Bakugo.

You’d tried so hard to keep it together, but being here, so close yet feeling so far, made it even harder.

Bakugo kept his eyes on the road, his grip on the wheel firm.

Inside, he was battling a storm of emotions.

The echoes of your words from earlier replayed in his mind, mingling with the snippets of the conversation he’d overheard at Kirishima’s.

“I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

He wasn’t good with words.

Hell, he wasn’t even good at feelings most of the time. But he wasn’t stupid—he could feel the distance, and it frustrated him because he didn’t know how to close it.

His crimson eyes flickered to you briefly.

The way you sat there, so quiet and withdrawn, tugged at something deep in his chest.

He hated seeing you like this, especially knowing he’d been the one to make you feel this way.

After what felt like forever, Bakugo’s resolve finally cracked.

His hand hesitated on the wheel, fingers tightening for a moment before he let out a sharp breath.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he reached over.

His hand covered yours, warm and slightly rough, the weight of it grounding you.

You blinked, startled by the sudden contact, and turned your head to look at him.

Bakugo didn’t meet your gaze right away.

His eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, his jaw tight, like he was bracing himself for something.

His thumb shifted slightly, brushing against your fingers in an awkward but earnest gesture.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant. “Stop doin’ that.”

You stared at him, confused. “Doing what?”

“Fidgetin’ like that,” he muttered, finally glancing at you for a split second before looking back at the road. “You’ll mess up your nails or somethin’.”

His words were gruff, almost dismissive, but the way his hand stayed on yours told you there was more to it.

He wasn’t just talking about your fidgeting—he was trying, in his own clumsy way, to tell you he cared.

Your chest tightened as you looked down at your joined hands.

The warmth of his touch, the slight awkwardness of the gesture—it all made your emotions bubble up again, but this time, they weren’t as heavy.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. “Don’t say it. Not here, not like this.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and leaned back against the seat.

For the first time that evening, the silence between you didn’t feel quite as suffocating.

The car came to an abrupt stop at a red light, but the tension in the car felt like it had slammed into a wall at full speed.

Bakugo’s hand hovered over the wheel, his knuckles white as he gripped it.

His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but your anger was a storm now, and it couldn’t be contained.

“Seriously?” you demanded, your voice sharp and trembling. “If not here, then where? If not now, then when?”

Your hand yanked away from his, the warmth of his touch replaced by the cold sting of frustration. “You always say that, Bakugo. You always brush our problems away. You… you brush me off like I’m some kind of bug.”

His eyes darted to you, his lips parting as if to defend himself, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“You treat me like I’m not worth your time,” you continued, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you even know what I was doing before you came home? I was cooking dinner. For you. For us.”

Your hands shook as you gestured toward him, your words pouring out in a rush. “I did all of that so we could talk, so we could try to fix this. Just so I could know—know for sure—that I mean something to you.”

The light turned green, and Bakugo hit the gas with a little more force than necessary, his jaw tight as he stayed silent.

But you couldn’t stop now.

“But of course,” you spat, your voice rising, “your friends are more important! Work, training, hangouts—all of it is more important than me!”

The car swerved slightly as Bakugo’s grip faltered, and he shot you a glance, his brows furrowed in frustration and guilt. “But they’re not! You’re more important—”

“Don’t give me that crap!” you cut him off, your voice almost a shout now. “If I’m so important, then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you make time for everyone and everything else but not for me? Huh? Answer me!”

Bakugo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His silence was deafening, and it only stoked the fire inside you.

“Why, Katsuki?” you pressed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do I have to fight so hard to feel like I matter to you?”

The car pulled into your driveway, and Bakugo threw it into park, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly it looked like he might snap it in two.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the faint hum of the engine.

Finally, Bakugo exhaled sharply and turned to you, his crimson eyes filled with a mixture of guilt, frustration, and something else—something softer, something that looked a lot like regret.

“You do matter,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You mean everything to me, damn it. I just… I don’t know how to show it.”

But you shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “That’s not enough, Katsuki. It’s not enough to just say it. I need to feel it. And right now, I don’t.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as Bakugo stared at you, his expression unreadable.

For once, the explosive hero had no words, and the silence between you felt like it could split the world in two.

Your chest heaved as the emotions you’d been holding in for so long spilled over.

Tears streamed down your face, your voice trembling and raw as you finally let everything out.

“Why couldn’t you have just spent time with me?” you cried, your voice breaking as your gaze locked on Bakugo.

He flinched at the pain in your voice but said nothing, his hands clenching into tight fists on his lap.

“Why couldn’t you see that while you were having fun, I was feeling miserable?!” you continued, your words cutting through the silence like shards of glass.

Bakugo’s eyes darted toward you, filled with a mix of guilt and helplessness, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

“Listen, Katsuki...” you began, your voice softer but no less intense. “I love you. So much it hurts.” Your words hung in the air, trembling with sincerity. “But it’s starting to feel like... like you don’t feel the same.”

His head snapped up at that, his crimson eyes wide and frantic. “That’s not true!” he blurted, his voice rough and unsteady. “Don’t—don’t say that, alright?”

But you shook your head, your tears falling harder now. “Then why does it feel like I’m always fighting for your attention? Fighting for a moment of your time?”

Your voice cracked, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, as if trying to hold yourself together.

Bakugo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze fell to his lap, his fingers gripping his knees so hard it looked painful.

You could see the frustration, the guilt, the turmoil swirling in his expression, but it wasn’t enough.

It didn’t fix the ache in your heart.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Like I’m not enough for you. Like I’m not your priority.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up again, his eyes blazing with emotion. “You are my priority!” he insisted, his voice desperate now.

“You’re everything to me, alright? I just... I just don’t know how to handle all this shit sometimes!”

His voice cracked at the end, and for the first time, you saw something in him you rarely did—vulnerability.

He looked at you like he wanted to say a million things but didn’t know where to start.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

“Then show me, Katsuki,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “If I mean so much to you, then show me. Because words aren’t enough anymore.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, the only sound in the car was the faint hum of the engine.

Bakugo looked at you, really looked at you, and for once, the explosive hero seemed completely lost.

Bakugo’s chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths as he stared at you, his crimson eyes shadowed with guilt and frustration.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to die in his throat.

His hands clenched tighter on his lap, and he turned his gaze to the steering wheel, as if looking at you was too much to bear.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again as you watched him struggle to say something—anything—that could make it better.

“You’re right,” he finally said, his voice low and strained. “I’ve been a shitty boyfriend.”

The admission startled you.

Your breath hitched, and you blinked through your tears as you waited for him to continue.

“I’ve been so focused on everything else—work, training, trying to keep up with everyone—that I didn’t realize what it was doing to you. To us.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, the motion rough and frustrated. “And that’s on me.”

His voice trembled slightly, and he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, the sharp thud breaking the tense quiet. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this. Like you don’t matter.”

You watched him, your tears still falling, but something in his voice tugged at your heart.

It wasn’t just guilt; it was desperation.

“But you do, alright?” he said, turning to face you fully now. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, raw and unguarded.

“You matter more than anything else in my life. I just... I don’t know how to balance it all without screwing it up.”

His hands trembled as they rested on his thighs, and you realized how much it was costing him to admit this.

Bakugo Katsuki, the man who always seemed so sure of himself, so strong and unshakable, was unraveling in front of you.

“You’re not the problem, alright? I am,” he continued, his voice softer now. “And I swear to you, I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us. Just... don’t give up on me yet.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but the pain you’d been carrying for so long still lingered.

You looked at him, your tears blurring your vision, and took a shaky breath.

“Katsuki, I’m not asking for perfection,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m asking for you to try. To make me feel like I’m worth it. Like we’re worth it.”

He nodded, his jaw tight as he swallowed hard.

“I will,” he said, his voice firm despite the emotion in his eyes. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll be better. For you.”

You stared at him, searching his face for sincerity, and what you saw there made something in your chest loosen.

He looked at you like you were his whole world—like he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt a flicker of hope. It was small, fragile, but it was there.

“Okay,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Bakugo nodded again, his eyes never leaving yours. “You can.”

The car fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy or suffocating.

It was filled with unspoken promises, with the beginnings of something better.

And for now, that was enough.

---

Bakugo’s hand enveloped yours, firm yet gentle, as if he was anchoring himself to you.

The warmth of his grasp communicated what his words had struggled to convey earlier—a need, a desire to hold on to you no matter what.

The silence in the car was filled with unspoken understanding as you both sat there, the weight of the evening settling between you.

When the car finally pulled into your driveway, you barely had time to move before Bakugo was already out of the driver’s seat.

He strode purposefully around the car, his movements sharp yet filled with intent.

You blinked in surprise as he opened the passenger door, crouching down to your level.

His crimson eyes met yours, raw and unguarded. “You mean a lot to me,” he began, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“So much... and I’m sorry for not showing you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words tumbled out, each one more heartfelt than the last.

“I’m sorry for not replying. I’m sorry for not being there. I’m sorry for not showing up,” he continued, his voice cracking slightly as he leaned closer.

“I promise, though, from now on... everything I do, I’ll do it with you on my mind.”

His hands found their way to your thighs, a touch so gentle and deliberate it sent a shiver through you.

It wasn’t just an apology—it was a plea, a vow.

“I promise you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “that from now on, I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel loved. So please, don’t give up on me. Please, don’t lose hope.”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, the rawness of his confession.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you managed a small, wavering smile as you placed your hand over his.

“You swear?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

His grip on your thigh tightened just slightly, his crimson eyes boring into yours with unwavering determination.

“I promise,” he said, his voice firm yet soft.

That was all you needed to hear.

A small, genuine smile spread across your lips as you nodded.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight lifting off your chest.

After a moment, Bakugo stepped back slightly, holding out his hand to you.

You placed your hand in his, and he helped you out of the car with a gentleness that contrasted his usual brash demeanor.

Once you were both standing, he didn’t hesitate—he pulled you into a tight, almost desperate hug.

His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

His head rested against your shoulder, and you could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your fingers threading gently through his spiky blonde hair.

“I missed you more,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice low and filled with emotion.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, the world around you fading into insignificance.

It was as if time had paused, giving you both a chance to reconnect, to heal.

When he finally pulled back, his hands still rested on your waist, and his gaze locked onto yours.

The intensity in his eyes took your breath away, and before you could say anything, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an apology, a promise, a declaration.

His lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as if to ground himself.

You responded just as passionately, pouring every ounce of love, frustration, and hope into the kiss.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

His crimson eyes softened as he looked at you, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For not giving up on me.”

You smiled back, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

He chuckled softly, his voice lighter than it had been all evening. “I won’t. I swear.”

In that moment, standing together in the driveway under the soft glow of the porch light, you felt something shift between you.

A new beginning, built on honesty and love. And for the first time in a long time, you believed things could truly get better.

ADULT BAKUGO FANFICTION

[urvampygf]

JUST A FAVOR

( Bsf!Chris x Inexperienced!Reader ) when chris finds out that reader has never been pleasured by a man before, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

-`✮´- 4.1k

contains. flirting, making out, teasing, hickeys, fingering, pussy eating,

The soft patter of rain against her apartment window serves as a soothing backdrop as Y/N wipes away her makeup. The day had been exhausting—her car stubbornly refusing to start, followed by an endless stream of exams, and finally, sitting through an hour-long conversation with her friends about their latest hookups and messy situationships. It wasn’t that she minded hearing about their experiences; it just felt… repetitive.

Y/N, though, couldn't relate those stories. She was a virgin—not totally untouched, but a virgin nonetheless. The thought lingered, making her feel like an outcast. She wasn’t naive—she’d tried a little of this and a little of that in the past, but never the “real thing.” Even though it's not usually something she'd dwell on, she still felt as though she was falling behind, that most women her age had already been there done that, leaving her in their wake.

Safe to say, Y/N was beyond exhausted, begging for the comfort of her bed. She snuggled under the covers, the warmth settling in as she began to relax. Just as she was about to drift off, a ding from her phone broke the comfortable silence, causing her to squint an eye open. A groan escaped her lips as she rolled over, burying her face into the pillow below her as she reaches for the phone on her nightstand.

It was a text from Chris, her best friend, which read, “u ready for movie night?”

Fuck. She’d totally forgotten she promised him they’d watch some random, cheesy movie together.

With a sigh, Y/N typed out a quick reply, the screen glowing dimly in the darkness. “I don’t feel like driving 😓😓”

She bit her lip as she waited, watching the little animated dots bounce up and down in the silence. A new message popped up: “want me to come over instead?”

Y/N hesitated, her thumb hovering over the screen for a moment. “could u? sorry, im just tired."

“sure :)” The reply came almost instantly.

Relieved, she tossed the phone back onto the nightstand as she hopped out of bed, deciding the oversized sweater and booty shorts she would usually sleep in aren’t quite appropriate for the occasion. After changing into pajama pants and a snug baby tee, she gently plays with her hair, double checking that it's not messy from lying in bed. Satisfied, she shuffles over to her small living room, plopping onto the couch and opening TikTok to pass the time while waiting for Chris.

It’s only a few minutes before her phone buzzes with a text from him—he’s here. Y/N opens the door to find Chris standing there, damp, his hair flopped over his eyes.

“The snacks are soaked,” he mumbles, a jokingly childish pout forming on his lips.

Y/N rolls her eyes, stepping aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to bring snacks… I’ve got plenty.”

Chris shrugs, looking down at the plastic grocery bag. “Yeah, well, you don’t have good snacks.”

“I have good snacks,” she responds mockingly with a smile, locking the door behind him.

He pulls out a package of goldfish and gushers, shaking his head. “No, you don’t. You like boring, healthy shit.”

“Whatever you say,” she grins, motioning for him to sit beside her as she settles on the couch.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The movie is playing, but neither of them really care for it. It’s just background noise for their chatter. Chris grumbles about his brothers, and Y/N rambles about college—though she keeps the real reason she’s feeling off to herself. Chris knows her too well, though, and not even the smallest shift in her mood goes unnoticed by him.

“What’s wrong, kid?” he asks gently, his tone softening.

“It’s nothing, m’okay.” she says, forcing a small smile, but Chris isn’t buying it. He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

Y/N sighs, the weight of her thoughts pressing on her. She finally blurts it out, “I’m just… always listening to my friends’ hookup stories. And it’s—ugh—it just… bothers me.”

Chris shifts on the couch, leaning in a little closer as he chuckles lightly, his expression full of curiosity. “Why does that bother you? I’ve told you shit like that before.”

Y/N’s heart rate quickens as she feels a wave of embarrassment spread through her. Her hands fidget in her lap. “Be-cauuuse…” she stammers, struggling to find the words. “I can’t—like, I can’t relate to any of it. Makes me feel like a loser.”

Her usual laid-back attitude has completely vanished, replaced by the tension of her embarrassment. Chris stares at her for a moment, his brow furrowing, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. Then, his face relaxes as realization hits, his eyes darting away for a second before locking back onto hers.

“You never told me you were a virgin,” Chris teases, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Y/N squints her eyes. “Chris—don’t start.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

A beat of silence hangs between them, and then Chris leans in a bit, curiosity piqued. “So, whatcha waiting for?”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Like, why haven’t you?”

Y/N sighs, shifting to face Chris. “That shit’s scary," she responds with a nervous giggle.

Chris lets out a quiet, amused breath through his nose. “What’s scary about it?” he asks casually.

She exhales sharply, her voice growing more animated. “Getting with the wrong guy, getting used, and, oh I dunno, pregnancy. Shall I continue?”

Chris’s smile falters as he registers her words. “Alright, fair. But the right guy isn’t gonna just like fall into your lap.”

“True..” she trails off, her tone a bit more casual, albeit still embarrassed. “But most of the guys I’m interested in are, like… fuck boys; Body count of twenty, can't remember your name, that kinda shit.”

“That’s your own fault,” Chris retorts with a teasing grin, dodging the playful shoulder punch she throws his way.

Y/N scoffs, but they both settle into a comfortable silence, their attention drifting back to the movie.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“That was butt booty ass low-key,” Y/N states as the movie ends, pushing herself off the couch to toss the empty popcorn bowl in the sink.

Chris glances up from his phone, unfazed. “Meh, it wasn’t that bad.”

He scrolls through his notifications, not too concerned about the movie’s quality.

Y/N returns, plopping back onto the couch next to him and stretching her arms overhead. “…What’s it like?” she asks suddenly, her voice softer than usual.

“Huh?” Chris looks up from his phone, locking it and setting it aside face down on the couch.

“Like… your first time,” she trails off, her eyes drifting away.

Chris chuckles, tilting his head slightly. “Still thinkin' 'bout that, huh?” He turns his body to face her, a teasing grin on his lips.

Y/N shrugs, her gaze shifting shyly. “Um… well, it was awkward as shit, but… it was nice,” he admits casually, as if he’s talking about any old memory. “Do you ever regret it?”

Chris shakes his head, thinking for a second. “Nah, I was clueless, but it wasn’t bad for a first time. Why you askin'?”

Y/N hesitates, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “…Jus’… I don’t know,” she mutters meekly.

Chris tilts his head, considering her for a moment before speaking up. “I know you’re a virgin, but… you’re not like totally inexperienced, right?”

Y/N hesitates for a second before answering. “Well—no, but it’s been a while.”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “What’ve you done, then?”

Y/N takes a moment to think. “I’ve… given head before, and a handjob.”

Chris leans back against the arm of the couch, his expression shifting as he processes that. “So you've never like- received?” He cringes at his phrasing, having attempted to soften it yet only making it more awkward.

Y/N nods, her eyes downcast. “Yeah. I’m too embarrassed to let anyone see me like that.”

Chris lets out a small “huh,” as if processing the vulnerability in her words. He then continues, a little gentler this time. “How long has it been?”

“…Four years.”

“Damn!” Chris exclaims, caught off guard, then quickly clears his throat to cover up his slightly inappropriate reaction. “Sorry...”

Y/N looks away, her voice quiet as she explains, “It’s not that I haven’t had the chance… I was just too scared.”

Chris shifts closer, his hand resting gently on her knee. “Don’t be scared,” he says softly, his tone serious now. “It’s not somethin' worth stressin' over.”

Y/N glances down at Chris’s hand resting on her knee. Normally, it would be a comforting gesture, but with the direction of the conversation, all it does is bring a flush to her cheeks.

Chris notices immediately, picking up on her shy demeanor. He suppresses a smug grin, eyes squinting playfully. “Ya alright there?”

Y/N looks up, her tone sharp and accusing. “Chris, you’re doing this on purpose.”

Chris breathes out a laugh, a proud look settling in. “I wasn’t… but I am now.”

Without hesitation, he slides his hand higher, gently moving towards her thigh.

Y/N’s voice betrays her unamused warning. “Chris.” She tries to sound disinterested and stern, but all that comes out is a nervous edge.

Chris leans in slightly, his gaze intense, though his tone remains teasing. “You wanna try somethin' out?”

Y/N’s eyes widen, her heart skipping a beat. “What are you hinting at?” Her words come out softly, betraying her shock.

He doesn’t break eye contact, his expression softer now. “Maybe not the first, but I could give you a first.”

The air between them thickens. Y/N swallows hard, trying to keep her composure. “Are you asking to, like- ya know...” She can't bring herself to actually say the words, embarrassed at the thought of his implication.

Chris shrugs nonchalantly, though there’s something serious in his eyes. “Why not?”

“You’d do that?… Like—it wouldn't be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” His voice is steady, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes as he scoots closer.

She swallows, her gaze shifting down to her lap. “I… I don’t know…” The words barely leave her lips, quieter than she intended, laced with uncertainty.

"You don't gotta be so nervous, it's alright." Chris reassures through subtle laughter, shifting his hand from her thigh to her waist.

Y/N sighs through her nose. "Are we really doing this?..." She whispers breathlessly, her eyes gentle as she looks up at her friend.

"Only if you want to..." He responds lazily as he leans in, hovering his lips over hers.

She manges to get out a shy hum of permission, causing Chris to let an amused breath out of his nose. "Use your words," Chris taunts as he grins against her parted lips.

"I want this"

"Atta' girl" Chris mumbles before closing the gap between them, capturing her in a gentle but passionate kiss.

Y/N lets out a small gasp before slowly melting into the kiss. Her movements are hesitant and lacking confidence, allowing Chris to take the lead. The fear of not doing good enough for him creeps into the back of her mind, making her hesitate. Noticing her uncertainty, Chris gently pulls away, his gaze soft as he meets her nervous eyes.

“Ya alright?” he asks, his voice gentle with concern as he brushes his thumb against her neck.

"M'nervous... sorry," she responds, averting her eyes from him.

Chris drags his hand from her neck to her cheek. "Relax, I gotchu," He mumbles as he dives back in, a bit hungrier this time. Y/N quietly moans against his lips as they attack hers, gentle enough to not overwhelm her as it's clear he's holding back.

His hand travels down to rest at her waist, pulling her closer to him. The kiss becomes sloppier the longer it goes on, neediness building up in Y/N as restraint breaks down in Chris.

If Chris could get what he wanted, he'd take her right here on this couch; but he cares too much about making this perfect for her to ever so much as attempt it.

He pulls away to catch his breath, eyes softening as she looks up at him. Her flushed cheeks, the wetness of her plump lips, those fucking needy eyes. Everything about the sight makes his body grow hot and his pants feel uncomfortably tighter.

"Fuck.. you look so hot," He whispers breathlessly, shamelessly pulling her onto his lap with ease. Y/N's eyes widen as her hands fly to his chest in an attempt to steady herself. Chris's hands fall to her hips, searching her face for any hint of uncertainty. "I wan' make you feel good.." He mumbles as he ghosts his fingers along her sides, following the curvature of her body.

Y/N sighs as she drops her head against his shoulder, screwing her eyes shut to compose herself. "Ya killin' me Chris," her breath fans against Chris's neck when she speaks, sending shivers down his spine. He teases with a cocky tone to his voice, "I haven't even done anything yet."

"Shut up" Y/N lifts her head from his shoulder and flashes a shy smile at him, her face hot with embarrassment.

Chris tilts his head and leans in to pepper soft kisses to her jaw, smiling against her skin. Her mouth hangs open, allowing a sigh to escape her lips as he trails his own down her neck; his hand's gentle grip on either side of her jaw tilts her head to the side, allowing him better access.

Chris chuckles against her neck, his breath fanning against the delicate skin causing her to shudder.

"Ever been marked up?" He questions, not allowing her enough time to answer before he sucks a hickey into her neck, eliciting a whiny moan from her sweet lips. "N-no," She attempts to answer, her response coming out as more of a whimper than a statement.

Chris detaches from her neck, pulling away with a grin. "Now ya have," he states proudly, licking a stripe over the forming bruise and planting soft kisses on the skin.

Y/N shuffles on his lap, prompting a low groan to escape from the back of Chris's throat. "Fuck- don't do that," he warns, gripping her hips tighter to plant her in place. Chris looks up at her with pleading eyes, practically begging her to quit squirming. Chris shifts slightly, the new angle allowing her to feel his hardening cock press against his sweats.

Y/N's eyes widen, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. Chris gently rolls his hips up experimentally, dragging out a small gasp from Y/N's throat. "Can't wait any more, need ya so bad," He murmurs, lazily dragging hot kisses across her neck. Chris moves her off of his lap as he shifts on the couch, placing a hand on her outter thigh and leaning in for another kiss.

He runs his hand across her thigh, growing closer and closer to her heat. "You okay with this?" Chris mumbles a lazy ask of consent against her lips, satisfied when she gives him a head nod of agreement. He cups her, running a finger along her clothed folds. Y/N lets out quiet sigh against his plump lips; the corners of them twitching up into a grin.

Chris hastily dips his hand under the waistband of her panties, his finger quickly being covered in her arousal. He rubs lazy circles on her clit, earning a soft whimper as she throws her head back against the back of the couch.

"So fuckin' wet f'me." he mumbles before diving into her neck.

"F-fuck Chris."

"Yeah?" He mocks, a teasing tone in his voice.

Chris has already had enough of this; he wants to taste her. Y/N gets the memo when he removes his hand from her pants and lifts it up to his mouth, licking every drop of her juices of off his finger. He looks down at her with needy eyes, anticipating her consent.

“…Please, Chris…” she finally gives in.

Chris wastes no time in yanking her pants down her legs, his eagerness drawing a sharp gasp from Y/N. The sound makes him pause, eyes flicking up to meet her amused yet shocked gaze. His lidded eyes soften as he realizes just how desperate he seems.

A breathy laugh escapes him, his head dropping in embarrassment. A hint of shame lingers in his smile as his hands settle on either side of her thighs, steadying himself over her.

“Sorry…” he chuckles, still looking down, his grin sheepish.

Y/N lifts a hand to his hair, twirling a strand between her fingers as she fights back a giggle.

Chris lets out an embarrassed huff of air, lifting his head just enough to meet her eyes.

“Needy, much?” she taunts, a proud smile on her lips.

His tongue presses into the inside of his cheek as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t start with me,” he mutters, shaking his head.

Before she can fire back, his hands grip her hips, shifting her beneath him in one smooth motion. She giggles as her back meets the couch, her head resting against the armrest, his body hovering just above hers.

Chris tugs her pants the rest of the way off, tossing them aside without a second thought.

His eyes dart up to meet hers, catching the playful glint in her eyes where nervousness and hesitation once lingered. He fights back a smile, determined to play it cool as his hands slide up her waist, fingers grazing the warm skin.

His thumbs push the soft fabric of her shirt higher, gliding over her ribs until they pause just beneath her breasts.

Chris glances up at her once more, his eyes silently asking for permission.

Y/N bites her lip before offering a tentative nod, her lashes fluttering shut.

His gaze drops back down to her torso as he runs his tongue along his bottom teeth, the muscle pressing against the inside of his lip. With slow precision, he eases her shirt higher, the snug fabric resisting as it stretches over the curve of her chest.

Chris sucks in a breath at the sight of her, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip.

“No bra?” he teases, his voice low and playful, watching as Y/N’s face flushes. His hand moves to her soft chest, gently squeezing as his gaze lingers.

His thumb traces lightly over her sensitive nub, causing a small gasp to escape her lips. Y/N screws her eyes shut, turning her head to the side as her face flushes with embarrassment.

Chris lets out a soft chuckle as he leans down. His lips brush against her chest, the touch light, almost like a whisper. He moves slowly, deliberately, letting his lips linger as they travel lower, each kiss adding to the ache in her core.

He pauses just above the waistband of her panties, his breath warm against her skin. The air feels heavier, thick with anticipation, as he stays there for a moment longer than necessary, savoring the tension.

He presses his knee between her legs, gently pushing them apart to make space for himself. With a firm grip, he hooks his hands beneath her thighs, bending her knees and spreading her even further.

His fingers move to push her panties aside, lips brushing over her core with feather-light kisses, just enough to tease her. Chris focuses on her clit, the place he knows she needs him most, but each peck is soft—too soft to fully satisfy her.

Pulling away from her, his eyes lock onto her glistening folds. He sighs at the view. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this…” His voice is heavy, breathless, as he tugs her panties the rest of the way off, lifting her legs onto his shoulders.

Y/N’s breath hitches, her chest rising and falling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She bites her lower lip, eyes fluttering shut as a shiver runs down her spine.

Chris's tongue slowly laps over her heat, saliva mixing with arousal as he gently licks up every last bit of her, savoring the taste. Y/N’s hand meets his head, fingers burying themselves in his brown locks, gripping a little too hard as if to steady herself. Her breath quickens as she throws her head back, the pull on his hair matching the need coursing through her.

Chris groans against her, grinding his hips into the couch to somewhat relieve the ache of his hard cock. Countless soft mewls spill from Y/N’s lips, but it isn’t until a breathy, strained whimper of his name escapes her throat that he finally loses control.

All restraint gets tossed aside in his mind as he fully dives in, devouring her with undeniable hunger; as if he’s finally allowing himself everything he’s been holding back.

"F-fuck Chris.." She whimpers out, biting her hand to quiet her noises, an attempt to save herself from embarrassment. His eyes travel up to her face as he licks and sucks at her needy cunt, his eyes dark with need. He pulls away from her for a brief moment, his ragged breathing matching hers as the string of saliva between them connects him to her puffy pussy. Y/N whines in frustration as she looks down at him, lips just inches away from her drooling core.

“Stop covering ya mouth. Need to hear ya… I wanna hear ya.” Chris says softly, his voice at odds with the teasing nature of his actions.

Y/N complies, mumbling a whiny apology. She stares down at him—God, he looks so fucked out. She probably looks more so, but that thought barely registers. His lips are swollen, pink, slick with her juices. His low eyes beam with want—like he needs this

He dives in again, needing to taste her pussy; craving it even more than watching her needy face. When Y/N squirms, he grips her hips, holding her still.

"mm- Chris!-.. ffuuucckk.."

Chris stifles a chuckle as his mouth licks and suckles at her cunt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into her hip while his other hand holds underneath her thigh. One of her legs has now fallen off his shoulder, hanging over the edge of the couch; It’s probably not the most attractive position, but neither of them care enough to notice.

Chris quickens his movements when he feels her shudder, her body tensing as her breath turns ragged.

"Chris- m’close…” Y/N mumbles, her words so slurred even she barely understands them—but Chris does.

“Ya gonna cum f’me, pretty girl? So soon?” He teases, his voice heavy with lust, murmuring against her wet cunt.

Y/N lets out a weak chuckle that slips into a moan. "Shut up," she breathes, her teasing tone getting lost in needy whines.

Her body trembles she begins to break down, skin burning with need. Chris’s movements turn quick and sloppy. His focus shifts to her sensitive bud, his pointed tongue flicking and swirling over her clit.

"ah-ahnn-.. fuuuck- Chris!" Her voice hitched, a soft, broken sound, as his tongue gently continued, guiding her through her high.

"Shiiiiiit.." Y/N’s eyes flutter shut in bliss, her brows knitting as she parts her lips, dragging in a shaky breath.

Chris’s movements only slow when she flinches away, the relentless stimulation overwhelming her. He licks up the last traces of her slick, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Carefully, he eases her leg off his shoulder, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze before settling above her.

"Ya alright baby?" Chris teases softly, a sexy tone in his voice. The rising and falling of Y/N's chest calms down, and her eyes finally squint open. "God, yes.."

He rests his body weight on her, making his very noticeable bulge poke against her inner thigh. "You okay?" Y/N asks softly, her hand tracing down his torso.

Chris shakes his head in response, gently griping her wrist and moving her hand away from his groin. "Don't worry 'bout me, it'll go down."

“You sure?..” Y/N asks, confusion flickering across her face as he pretty much turns down a handjob.

He nods subtly, then climbs off her and sits himself back on the couch, casually lifting her shaky legs into his lap.

“Yeah.. today’s all about you. Some other time, maybe.” His voice low as he rubs her thigh with a gentle palm, a smug little smirk playing on his lips as he looks over at her.

a/n: first ever fic thingy.. kinda nervy🌝 i literally teased this like 2 months ago and then never posted it cuz i got too scared to WHOOPSSSS SORRYYYY😓 but in all seriousness hope you enjoyed, got off to this or whatever u do when reading, thx for checking me out !! if u have any suggestions or constructive criticism i welcome it with open arms, lemme know if u want more from me and thx for reading !!🥰

dividers: all me!! feel free to use, they're just lines and emoticons after all, nothin fancy😭

©.urvampygf

[rafeandonlyrafe]

first moments

words: 1.5k

warnings: mom!reader, dad!rafe, established relationship, brief hospital setting, anxiety (from rafe)

“rafe, wanna do chest to chest?” you hum, eyes mostly closed, the exhaustion from labor still affecting you.

“i…” he stares at you, and then at your son, resting against your chest, maternity dress pulled open so he's against your skin, his face resembling the exact same one rafe makes when he's sleeping. “its okay, you keep holding him.”

“okay.” you say, looking down at your son. it didn't take you long to decide on a name. leon andres cameron. leon after rafes grandfather and andres after your own. a good strong family name. 

“he's so perfect.” rafe whispers, his voice cracking slightly.

“come closer.” you beckon, rafe moving his chair closer, but still keeping his distance, making you frown. “what's wrong?”

rafes mouth opens, but no words come out. you pause, hand petting over leons back.

“wait…” your mind starts to piece together, still foggy from the delivery and drugs. “you haven't held him yet.”

“i-” rafe stumbles over his words, knowing he's been caught. “i can't. he's too tiny. too perfect. i-i don't want to ruin him.”

“ruin him?” you frown. “rafe, you're his father. get over here.”

you struggle to scooch over on the hospital bed, but manage to make room for rafe to sit down next to you. he even sits carefully, gnawing at his lip as you turn leon over, keeping him asleep as you turn him face up, supporting his neck the whole time.

“just cradle your arms. it's okay, you'll get used to it.” you watch as rafe moves his arms before placing leon in them, having to cover your mouth when the sudden urge to cry hits you, leon looking even smaller being held by your husband.

“i love him.” rafe whispers, voice cracking, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. “i love him so much.”

“look how relaxed he is in your arms.” you coo. “i knew you'd be a good dad.”

--

“god, im so nervous.” rafe looks in the backseat where you’re sitting, leon buckled tight into the carseat.

“its okay.” you hum, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “just drive slow.” “yeah, of course.” rafe nods. he barely puts the car above 15 miles per hour the entire ride home. leon thankfully stays asleep, you’re not sure if you could have handled just leaving the hospital and having him crying on the way home.

“okay, here.” rafe takes a deep breath as he pulls the car into the garage.

“you got his carseat?” you ask. your body is still recovering from birth, and you’re not sure if you can lift anything up without tearing.

“yeah.” rafe undoes the carseat carefully as you get out and unlock the house, happy to be home after two days spent in the hospital.

“mmm.” you breathe in the fresh air. “my eyes are so happy after all that fluorescent light.”

“um- watch out baby.” rafe hates having to have you move out of the way so quickly, but he can hear leon beginning to fuss and needs to get him inside.

you giggle and step away, watching as rafe quickly rushes to unbuckle him. he looks to you to get him out of the carrier, but you allow rafe to scoop him up, shushing him and gently rocking him back and forth.

--

“i got it.” rafe offers.

“no, he's hungry.” you groan, already feeling your breasts swelling with milk just from hearing his cry. “i can tell.”

“im sorry, baby.” rafe sighs, staying in bed as he tries to get back to sleep. no point having both of you completely exhausted.

you manage to settle leon, feeding him in the rocking chair rafe got you before you gave birth. he almost wakes when you transfer him back to the crib, but you get him down and back to rafe, crawling into bed next to him.

“i wish i could do more.” rafe sighs. so much of you is required from leon, not just the pregnancy but now needing to feed him. rafe tries to take care of anything else you could need, but he struggles with not knowing how to do things as basic as changing diapers.

“you're learning fast, rafe. it's okay.” you move closer so rafe can hold you, snuggling into your back, his hand gently rubbing over your hip.

“i don't deserve you.” you know it's just the exhaustion talking. you grip his hand in yours, squeezing three times, saying the words without needing to speak.

“we should sleep while he's asleep.” you say, rafe nodding and pressing kisses to your shoulders and upper back until you're pulled back to sleep.

--

“shh, leon, it's okay.” rafe looks around for you, surely you must have heard leons cries. you said you'd be just a minute, running to the beauty aisle to grab your conditioner before returning to rafe shopping for groceries.

rafe pushes the brim of the carrier back, his heart breaking as his sons little face scrunches with big tears rolling down his cheeks.

rafe isn't sure what to do, so he just lets his instincts guide him as he quickly undoes the seatbelt and lifts leon into his chest, being careful to hold his head just as you instructed.

the second leon is against rafes, his cries lessen, and then all together subside as rafe bounces gently.

“is he okay?” rafe looks up to see you hustling down the aisle towards him.

“yeah, he was upset but i got him.” rafe pats leons back gently, turning his head to press a kiss against his cheek.

“okay.” you let out a sigh of relief, tossing your conditioner into the grocery cart. “want me to take him?”

“no, im good.” rafe shifts leon a little as you start to walk, pushing the carrier and loading the bottom up with more groceries, especially all the things you couldn't have while pregnant but are now safe despite still breastfeeding.

rafe doesn't miss the way you keep looking over at him with light in your eyes, excitement evident at seeing how comfortable rafe is becoming with leon held snuggly in his arms.

--

“are you sure?” you ask, frowning as your eyes flicker between leon laying on the couch cushion and rafe sitting next to him, focus on your baby as he makes silly faces at him.

“baby, i know i struggled at first, but this is one weekend. you have plenty of milk pumped. ill be fine.” rafe scoops leon into his arms as he stands, walking towards you.

“besides, if i need help i can always call your mom. even wheezie, you know she'll be happy to see leon.” rafe shifts the baby to one arm while his free hand comes to cup your cheek. “go. please, i will miss you and leon will too, but you deserve a break.”

“okay.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press a kiss to rafes lips before also kissing leon, who lets out a familiar cooing sound.

“im gonna text my girls.” you can't hide the excitement in your voice, pulling out your phone to confirm you'll be able to go to the girls spa weekend away. 

“i want nightly face times with you though baby.” you poke leons little nose, whose cheeks stretch into a smile.

--

“oh my god, rafe, is everything okay?” you squeal, squinting at the screen as if it'll somehow make leon appear.

“yes! fine, i promise.” rafe points the camera down so you can see leon happily on his lap, already looking tired as bedtime is quickly approaching.

“why didn't you pick up the first time?” you ask, a lot calmer now that you have eyes on your baby.

“leon and i were just getting home. i took him to the park. he couldn't really do anything but be in the carrier but he liked watching the other kids play.” rafe looks down at leon, giving him a little tickle under the chin. “isn't that right buddy?”

“did you-”

“yes, i put sunscreen on him. and he wore a hat. and-” rafe stresses before you can interrupt. “i reapplied sunscreen after an hour.”

“you're the best.” you smile. “you know i never doubted you rafe, it's just-” you take a deep sigh. “i worry so much about him. and making sure he's happy.”

“and he is.” rafe assured you. “look at his little face.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you look at your husband and your son, snuggled together on the couch. you quickly take a screenshot while they both have smiles on their faces.

“you're such a good mama. leons lucky to have you, and so am i.”

the tears are now falling down your cheeks as you smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too. and we miss you, but go enjoy your night with the girls!”

“okay.” you nod. “you're right. ill be home tomorrow around noon.”

“got it.” rafe holds the camera closer to leon. “say bye bye to mommy, leon.”

the call ends with his smiling face looking back at yours.

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen

[sleepdeprivedfrfr]

your husband nanami never really had much to look forward to in his life rather than making enough money to retire and relax, until you came along. he has never failed to make you happy. you were his number one priority. the reason he worked such excruciating hours. all of pain and suffering that went into the money he made meant nothing if he couldn't spend every single penny towards your happiness. I mean the saying is 'happy wife happy life,' right?

except you've noticed how drained of life your husband was chasing money all the time, he would constantly come home exhausted from working over time. you would often find yourself massaging his tense shoulders while he's drifting off in your lap, still dressed in his work clothes. you began baking pastries and other sweets for him while at home because you felt bad for all the work he had been putting himself through,

"sweetheart, these are delicious, where did you learn how to bake like this?" his usual tired and monotone voice was gone, it was replaced with the slightest amount of shock and delight.

"ken I appreciate you being sweet, but it was my first time making it so its okay to tell me if its bad." you smiled up at him.

"my love what makes you think im just being sweet? this is amazing."

from there on out nanami would always compliment your baking exceedingly, getting on his knees in front of you right as he walked through the door and the smell of freshly baked buttery sweet bread hit him.

it still hurt your heart to see him so exhausted all the time. so you had the idea to take on a job at a bakery, your interview went well and the manager loved the sample pastry that you made, he gave you the job and the pay wasn't too bad. you were so excited to tell your husband about your new job when he came home because it meant that he wouldn't have to put so much strain on himself anymore and he could relax.

little did you know that it would lead to a small argument, where kento was being the stubborn one, for once.

"love I just don't understand, am I not doing enough?" he placed a hand on your hip and one on your cheek, his eye brows pushed together in confusion.

"ken you don't get it. youre doing TOO much." you grabbed his hand from your face and held it in yours. "you need a break. plus it would be good for me to get out of the house, I can't stand being at home and doing nothing knowing that you can barely get a full night of rest."

"that's not something you need to worry about-"

"ken."

"hm?"

"youre being stubborn. just let me try for a little while, and you can see what its like to have a break hm? if you REALLY don't like it, then ill quit okay?"

"do you really think that you need to take on a job dear? I-"

"kento."

"okay. but if you really don't like it then just tell-" you cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips. you knew how much your husband hated working, but you also knew he was too stubborn to ask for help.

months had passed and its safe to say that your deal worked out as you and your husband were walking back from the beach during your week long vacation in Malaysia in celebration of your anniversary.

"ken look how pretty that orchid is!" you pointed high up into a tree at a beautiful fully bloomed white orchid that had hints of yellow and pink in the middle.

"hm." was all he replied with a small smile. I reached up and easily picked the flower due to his tall frame, he placed the flower behind your ear and admired it.

"looks even prettier now." he said as he gently cupped your face and pulled you in slowly for a kiss.

now every year on your anniversary without fail, your husband buys you the same exact white orchids with a hint of yellow and pink in the middle imported from Malaysia just to see your face light up all over again.

guess the saying was true.

a/n: this is not proofread and im aware this is ass but does it look igaf...

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Don't Panic

The lads men finding you asleep with your child in your arm while you were trying to feed them. You're a first time mom you're not going to be perfect. A/N: This is a mommy mc if you're uncomfortable with the idea of mommy mc this is your warning [Requested by: who-mentioned-rhys-larsen]

Summary: You were a first time mom and motherhood was the hardest hood you’ve ever lived in. Even with your husband doing his fatherly duties you were still exhausted. You checked the time on your watch and noticed it was feeding time. You hoisted your baby into your arms and sat down on the bed to breast-feed. You blinked rapidly trying to keep yourself awake “I’ll nap when you’re done eating” You said more so to yourself rather than the baby when suddenly …. you woke up. When did you doze off? The sun was up last time you checked now it's dark out. Where’s the baby? Oh shit where’s the baby!?

Zayne

Zayne came home to find you curled up with your child who was snoring quietly while you held them snuggly in your arms. He picked your babygirl up careful not to wake you and moved her to the adjoining nursery. She squirmed a little at the loss of warmth, but calmed down once Zayne swaddled her.

A few hours later…

MC: ZAYNE!

Zayne: Darling stop yelling before you wake the baby

MC: Where is she?? I fell asleep while feeding her oh fuck im a terrible mom

Zayne grabs you by the shoulders

Zayne: Breathe my love she’s fine I put her in her bed

MC: *teary-eyed* did I hurt her?

You dropped your gaze feeling your heart shatter at the thought of hurting your child

Zayne: You had her held safely in your arms she’s fine go look

You rushed to the nursery to find your babygirl in a peaceful slumber. A wave of relief washed through you causing you to fall to your knees.

MC: I won't let that happen again

Zayne: Go get some sleep my love you’ve earned it I'll take care of the baby

MC: but-

Zayne: You’ll be no good sleep-deprived go rest

Rafayel

MC: WHERE ARE THEY?

You rush out into the living room after tearing your room apart looking for your babies

Rafayel: Quiet down. Why are you yelling?

MC: I CANT FIND THE TWINS

Rafayel: You lost our kids?

MC: I-I accidentally fell asleep and and and when I woke up they were gone I-I-I omg im the worst mom alive

Rafayel: Are these two not ours?

You walk around the couch to find them each fast asleep, one laying in his lap and the other sprawled out next to him on a blanket.

MC: I should punch you in the jaw fuck I think I just had a heart attack thats not funny

Rafayel: I found you asleep in the bedroom with your titty out

MC: Well thats embarrassing

Rafayel: It was a nice surprise … This baby shark was trying to climb on you when I came in

Rafayel said pointing to your baby boy who was drooling all over his lap

Rafayel: and this little sea snail was curled up next to you

Rafayel placed his hand on the tummy of your babygirl

MC: I’m glad they're safe

You sighed, relieved that your babies were fine

Rafayel: You should probably go do that pumping thing you always do …. you’re leaking

MC: Shit!

Rafayel: My little leaky faucet

MC: Please put your top and bottom lip together

Xavier

You sat up quickly almost head butting Xavier who was standing over you

Xavier: Whoa you should change your shirt you have spit up on this one

MC: Where's the baby!?

Xavier: I just put him in his crib

MC: Is he okay? I didn’t roll over on him did I? Was he breathing?

Xavier: Yes. No. and Yes.

Xavier began removing your shirt

MC: Wait wait I need to see our son

Xavier: Okay but lets change your shirt first

MC: No—I need—-Xav move

You end up wrestling Xavier who’s just trying to get you out of your soiled shirt. He manages to slip it off and you dart out of the room with no shirt. You quietly make your way in the nursery and see your baby boy sleeping soundly. Man he looks so much like his dad it’s crazy.

Xavier: Here. *pulls a shirt over your head*

MC: Thanks Xav Im sorry I was just so scared

Xavier: I understand ... now according to Jenna since the baby is down you should get some rest too let’s go

MC: Are you going to nap with me?

Xavier: Jeremiah was in the living room when you ran through to get to our son

MC: Did he see.....?

Xavier: He won't remember even if he did

MC: JEREMIAH IM SORRY

Sylus

MC: WHERE IS SHE??

Kieran: Calm down

Luke: You’ll wa—

MC: DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN

Sylus: She’s right here

You turn to see Sylus holding your baby girl in his arms. She's playfully tugging on his necklace while he continuously moves her little hand away.

MC: Mommy is so sorry baby …. did I hurt her? I didn’t mean to fall asleep

Sylus: You’re going to make yourself sick with all this worrying

MC: I just fell asleep with our child in my arms that seems like grounds to worry Sylus

Sylus: She was fast asleep on your chest and you had your arm wrapped around her

MC: It’s still dangerous

Sylus: and yet she’s fine live and learn sweetie everything will be fine

MC: It’s like my third day out here okay im still learning this mom shit

Sylus: Rule number 1 don’t cuss in front of the baby

MC: Oh shut up

Sylus: Rule number 2 don’t be rude to her dad

MC: Anything else?

Sylus: Rule number 3 dont forget to pump

You look down and realize you have two wet patches on your shirt

MC: Shit!

Sylus: Rule number 1—

MC: Shut it!

[reidology13]

Hi i love ur writing , ur a really a good author!! If ur taking requests, and u feel inspired, would u mind writing more aaron x babysitter? I just read the two u wrote and they got me in a chokehold.

Maybe more pre-relationship shenanigans? I was eating up the lack of boundaries they had for people who are not dating. Maybe more of that? I'm trying to think of a prompt im sorry if this is too vague.

Maybe he starts calling her pet names (i would explode if aaron called me pet names ) or she calls to check on him at work or something that r clearly coupley things?

If not, that's fine. Love ur work!!

'til there was you

cw: age gap, hotch calls reader 'sweetheart', insecurities, pining? lots and lots of fluff wc: 1.6k a/n: tysm anon you're so kind, knowing that you enjoy my writing made my week <3 I kinda mixed your two prompts together, except hotch calls from work instead of reader so I hope it's still what you wanted!

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The sound of the phone ringing on the bench echoed throughout the kitchen, and you finished plating Jack’s dinner in record speed before you picked it up, squeezing it between your ear and shoulder. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face at the sound of Aaron’s voice greeting you on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Aaron.” You did your best to keep your tone in check, trying to keep the very visible smile from showing audibly, not wanting him to profile your voice.

“How are you doing?” His voice was low, and you could just make out the chatter in the background that you’d learnt to associate with police stations over the past three years. You noticed the rough sound of exhaustion in his cadence, and damn if it wasn’t attractive, even if it made you worry an unfair amount about his well being.

“Good, Jack’s good, we went out today and he ran himself ragged, so I’m making him an early dinner. He’ll be out the moment his head hits the pillow, trust me.” You glanced over at the boy, sitting at the coffee table with a small puzzle that he’d been working on for a half hour, you’d let him finish it after dinner.

“You know I always trust you. I just called to tell you I’ll be home early tonight, I should get there in an hour or two.” That got your attention, he almost never left work before the sun set below the DC skyline, or, well, you weren’t sure what the horizon looked like in Quantico.

“Oh, okay, I’ll see you then?” You carried the plates over to the dining table, pausing the conversation for a moment to tell Jack to wash his hands, then to undo that hygienic work by handing him the phone. He spoke to Aaron for a minute or two, his four-year-old attention span incapable of paying attention to a faceless conversation when there were chicken nuggets on the plate in front of him. You took the phone back, finishing the extended conversation with a few short words.

“See you soon, Sweetheart.” The sound of the call ending reverberated through your ears, a feedback loop of high-pitched ringing combined with the faint sound of his voice, and you couldn’t help but be glad he wasn’t there to witness how easily you fell apart from one simple word. Throughout dinner Jack managed to pull you out of your thoughts, mostly due to pure persistence on his part, asking question after question until you had no choice but to engage to his satisfaction. It worked, that is until you had helped him through his night time routine and put him safely to bed. He went to sleep just as easily as you had expected, and you’d checked your watch to discover it was almost seven, and Aaron would be arriving at any moment, if he had been right about when he would be there.

Sweetheart.

He’d said it so casually, like it was how he referred to you on a regular basis, like it wasn’t the first time you had ever heard that name from his lips. It made it far worse, in a way, knowing that in your presence he had never used it for someone else. Of course, he probably had, but to your ears that name was reserved specifically for you. That was the kind of thing he did, small, meaningless gestures that made you wonder, question, two things you absolutely should not have risked doing.

So you were lost in thought, again, Jack’s momentary distraction rendered useless in the face of a silent house, waiting for Aaron to arrive, too preoccupied to consider distracting yourself with menial chores. Luckily, or unluckily, he arrived shortly after you’d put Jack to bed, you’d likely had less than an hour before he walked through the door. He called out your name quietly, careful not to wake Jack, and seemed in a fairly good mood for after a case.

“Hi.” You mumbled, dodging his gaze as he sat down beside you on the couch, and you swore you could feel the exact moment his gaze sharpened, undoubtedly noticing your avoidant behaviour.

“What’s wrong?” He brushed his hand against your shoulder, silently asking for your attention, as if he didn’t have all of it before he even walked through the front door. You looked up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, just knowing that he could see your face was nerve-wracking enough. The profiler in him was undoubtedly reading every one of your expressions, and he likely knew your emotions before you did.

“Nothing, I promise.” He scoffed at your words, and you felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment at your words, naive enough to convince yourself he wouldn’t know the moment the lie left your lips.

“You can’t lie to me, tell me what it is.” When denial failed, diversion was probably right below as the backup in whatever profiler’s dictionary the must have helped write, although that did nothing to stop you from jumping right to it.

“You never get home this early.” He tensed, and his hand stilled against your shoulder—-where, you realised, he had been casually rubbing your skin through your shirt for the past few moments—before relaxing back into his usual demeanour, raising a judging eyebrow, as if to tell you he knew exactly what you were trying.

“We wrapped it up, I didn’t need to stay in the office.” He almost never needed to, but he always did, and he hadn’t run to Jack when he came through the door, instead he seemed to be latching to you, “Now tell me what’s bothering you, Sweetheart.”

Oh, so he really wanted you dead, there was no other explanation for his behaviour, he must have known how you felt, and he was using it to kill you. It was unfair, what you said next was basically against your will, he had forced it out of you with his gentle touches and cruel words.

“You’ve never called me ‘Sweetheart,’ before.” Possibly the worst thing you had ever said to him, which was certainly saying something, since you always managed to lose half of your brain cells simply by breathing the same air as him.

“And that has you all worried because…” The amused lilt in his tone made your stomach curl in on itself, a mix of embarrassment and something you didn’t want to name settling heavily within you. That knowing spark in his eye that never failed to make you squirm, although you could never be entirely sure why.

In some unbidden stroke of genius, you managed to find a reasonable excuse that didn’t sound like the most carefully bullshitted sentence in history, “People say things like that when they’re about to let someone down. I was worried I was fired or something.”

His eyes softened, and you almost felt bad for bringing about the guilt in his eyes, although remembering that your lie was single-handedly carrying your dignity helped with the shame a fair bit. He ran his hand over yours where it rested on your thigh, while the other continued rubbing gently over the clothed skin of your shoulder. You assumed this was his attempt at soothing you, unfortunately all he was succeeding at was increasing your heart rate and making it hard to breathe.

“Oh, Sweetheart, of course not. You’re part of the family, I could never let you go.” He smiled at you, and despite the fact that you were seated, you swore you went weak at the knees, your breath hitching at how close he was, how easy it would be to lean forward.

“Then why?” Your voice was slightly too breathless, and the way he didn’t even seem to notice made it all just that much harder to hold yourself back. But at the same time it acted as a reminder of exactly why you couldn’t ever have him. He had no idea, and no matter how alluring that obliviousness was, if he ever did find out you would, in fact, lose the job he was promising you would have for as long as you wanted. You knew that realistically he wouldn’t be able to continue hiring you once Jack was fourteen or fifteen, and decidedly too old to have a babysitter. You also knew that once you had finished your education, you would find a job that would help you pay for an actual apartment, and maybe, one day, a house and family. But it was the thought that counted, and if you told him how you felt, you would lose it—lose him—forever.

“I don’t know. You’re one of the few people I’m close to, I want to separate you from everyone else.” There he was, making you wonder, once again, always switching up and finding ways to surprise you, just when you thought you’d figured him out.

You weren’t sure you had the words to respond to him, or if your voice would even comply if you tried to speak, so you simply nodded and turned away from him, just so that you were no longer looking in his eyes. What you didn’t do, however, was move away from his warm hands, so nice on your skin, even through the fabric of your shirt.

When it came to Aaron, you couldn’t seem to help but question, his hands so rough, with a soft touch that contrasted so beautifully. A name just for you, that told you he saw you as someone separate, different from everyone else, filling your heart with what could only be false hope. 

But if false hope was all you would get, you would take it every time, especially if it came with the added bonus of ‘Sweetheart,’ murmured so gently, the way you suspected it always would.

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tysm for reading!!

Tags: @reidmoony-toast @selmasdaydreams - Comment to be added <3

[bbyg4rl]

gentle love

cw: flangst, argument, happy ending !

summary: a heated argument leaves you and JJ reeling.

a/n: you can assume this is after the topper thing in s1 but its not really specific so it can be at any point in time! im having such a bad day need him so bad :/

JJ had never known love like yours. He had never known love that was gentle, a love so soft it wrapped around him like warmth. A love so nurturing, it could sustain him more than food ever could.

You were his own slice of heaven—his safe space. The one thing that could restore him when the world knocked him down.

He reveled in the way you looked at him—like he was the only boy in the world, the only one that mattered. The way your eyes softened and your lips curved into a smile in his presence sent a spark through him he couldn’t explain. Being with you was the best feeling in the world. He loved knowing you were his, and even more, that he was yours.

But like all beautiful things, your relationship had its struggles too. JJ wasn’t one for communication. When something overwhelmed him, he’d turn tail and run—usually straight into your arms. But when it was you who stirred those feelings in him, he was lost, unsure where to go or what to do.

All couples fight—it’s normal. Not everyone can get along all the time, right?

The argument started like any other. You were angry at him for getting into a fight with some random Kook, and he brushed it off, insisting he was fine and that you didn’t need to worry. But this time was different. This time, it wasn’t just a fight—he had pulled a gun on someone.

Normally, you would have talked him through his anger, calmed him down like you always did. But the weight of exam stress had made you sharper, less patient, and he didn’t take it well.

Blunt words were exchanged, tempers flared. His frustration boiled over as he snapped, “You never understand me.” His voice was raw, edged with something almost desperate. Then, quieter, almost to himself, he muttered, “Maybe this just isn’t working anymore.”

Before you could respond, before the weight of his words could fully sink in, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Tears welled in your eyes as you collapsed onto the floor, clutching your knees as waves of pain rippled through your chest. You had never fought with JJ like this before.

Your fingers found the necklace around your throat, trembling as you rubbed your thumb frantically over the J-initial locket. What did he mean by that? His words echoed in your mind like a broken record, each repetition cutting deeper.

Did this mean you had to take the necklace off? That you had lost him? The questions swirled in your head, suffocating you as you sobbed against the cold bedroom floor.

Eventually, the exhaustion, the heartbreak, and the sheer weight of it all pulled you under, dragging you into unconsciousness.

You're only woken up by JJ's calloused hands gently cupping your jaw, pulling you into him. Blinking up at him, you find tears streaming down his face, his expression shattered with guilt. His breath trembles, and then—a wrecked sob escapes him, your name breaking apart on his lips.

You assume he let himself in through the window, just like he had countless times before. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s been an hour since he left—an hour that felt like an eternity.

Looking back at him, you pull him close, a mix of relief and heartbreak crashing over you. He wraps you in a tight embrace, arms locking around you as if afraid you might slip away. His grip is desperate, unyielding—like he’s holding on for dear life.

You sit in silence, finding comfort in each other’s arms as your breathing slows, your hearts steadying together. The quiet wraps around you like a fragile truce until, finally, his voice cuts through it.

"I’m sorry."

"I'm sorry too" you whisper back, your voice barely above a breath. You know he was only doing what he could in the circumstances he was trapped in.

"I should've let you explain before I snapped at you." You look up at him, a pang of guilt striking your heart as the words leave your lips.

"It's alright," he murmurs, his southern drawl soft, almost sheepish. "I shouldn't have yelled at ya either. I was bein’ a dick."

You both settle back into silence, the weight of unspoken emotions lingering between you. Then, his voice breaks through again.

"I hope you know I’ll never leave your side. Whatever I said before... I was just angry. I didn’t mean it."

His words tumble out in a rush, his tone almost frantic—like he’s trying to take his previous words back, like he’s just stepped on a puppy’s tail and is desperate to make it right.

You press your palm against his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart as he apologizes. It’s a silent gesture—one that tells him you believe him, that you accept his apology without needing to say a word.

"I could get rid of the gun if you want me to" he murmurs softly against your temple. "You mean more to me than a piece of metal."

"No, it’s okay. Keep it. Just… don’t get into trouble." Your voice is quiet but firm, a stern edge creeping in.

He nods without argument, pulling you closer, his arms tightening around you. Then, with a sigh, he buries himself in the crook of your neck, as if that’s the only place he truly feels safe.

You turn your head, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Please don’t ever tell me you’d leave me again," you whisper, your voice trembling, fragile with fear.

He lifts his gaze to yours, guilt pooling in his eyes. "Never" he vows before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Then, without a word, he reaches for the ring on his pinky finger, sliding it off effortlessly. He gestures for your hand, taking it in his own as he carefully slips the small ring onto your finger.

"Never again." he murmurs, a silent promise, a quiet commitment to never hurt you.

You cradle his face in your hands, pulling him into a slow, lingering kiss—deep and unhurried, saying everything words couldn’t. He was yours, and you were his. That was all that mattered.

Entwined in each other’s arms, you stay on the floor, neither willing to let go. The bed is forgotten, lost in the warmth of his touch and the quiet intensity that lingers between you.

check out my other works ! masterlist

[lunajay33]

Searching for You

•🪽🧺🧟‍♀️•

Summary: Reader and Daryl have been together since you were teens, you have crazy news for him but then the world falls apart and your searching for him every second

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Pregnant

•Masterlist•

I finished picking up the surprise cake I had specially ordered for the bakery in town for the news I have for Daryl, we live in cabin on the outskirts of town it’s simple but so cozy plus I’m staying with the man I’ve loved since I was in highschool

I got home setting up the surprise, the cake was a round cake with lilac frosting around the edges, with the words baby on board on the top, it was cheesy but the joy I felt trumped that feeling

Soon I heard the rumble of his motorcycle pulling up the drive way and the engine cutting off, my heart pounding slightly nervous of his reaction, sure we’ve been together for years but I knew of his past and how he feared of becoming like his old man

I push those thoughts aside when I hear the door open and his subtle sigh as he flicked his boots off

“Sunshine?” I walk out of the dining room and meet him at the door

“Hi my love, I have a surprise for you” I smile as I wrap my arms around his shoulders as he pulls me close

“Really, more that this cute lil dress ya got on” he smiles making me blush

“Oh stop come on” I take his hand leading him to the table

He read the cake then back at me then down at my belly

“Really?” I nod my head as I wring my fingers anxiously

“Are you mad” he wrapped his hands around my waist down to my little bump

“Ya know I can never be mad at ya……we’re having a baby” he sighs gently

“I know it’s scary but she’s ours”

“She?” He smiled

“Just a feeling, call it mothers intuition”

•

We went to the doctor the next day and found out I was only a month along, we get home and I slump on the couch exhausted

“What me to run out and get ya something for supper?”

“I’m reeeeeeeally craving Chinese”

“Then that’s what ya get sunshine” he smiles giving me a gentle kiss before he was off

I waited for him, when an hour went by then two I started to get nervous it’s a small town I never took more than 20 minutes, I tried his phone but he never answered

I pull on one of his hoodies and my boots, taking the keys to the truck and leave the house, I drive into town and the streets are empty, confused I keep driving until I get to the Main Street where all I see is carnage, people dead and ripped apart blood everywhere, as others are the ones ripping them apart

“What the hell?” I scream when one slams up against the window, I quickly turn around speeding back to the house where it’s still safe hoping Daryl made his way back, I get there running inside screaming for him, begging to any god that he’s here

I run to every room and all I get is silence, what is happening we were just about to start our family, what do I do?

I remember what Daryl and Merle taught me, drilling all the survival skills into my head over the years, I pack a bag full of clothes, weapons around the house Daryl had, food and a note

“Daryl my love, I don’t know if you’ll see this but I’m scared and I don’t know what’s going on, I packed a bag and took the truck I’ll go to the quarry where we went camping I hope you find me, until then”

I suck in a breath trying to hold the tears at bay as I left the home I loved so much hoping in the truck and taking off

•

I finally get to the quarry, and there’s a few people already there, some setting up tents, one man already there with his RV, pretty smart, I get out of the truck nervous hoping they’ll take me in

“Welcome im Dale we’ve had a few people already making themselves at home, are you bite?”

“No i…..I don’t even know what’s going on, I went out to find my husband and I didn’t know where else to go”

“Oh honey it’ll be okay, just relax for now, I have an extra tent if you like to settle in”

“I’d really appreciate that, thank you”

A week goes by and more people have come everytime I pray it Daryl maybe even Merle

I wake up to the sun shining through my tent, a few voices outside already stirring

“Got some fine ass around here” my heart lept, I knew that graphic voice from anywhere, I unzip the tent like a crazy woman and jump out, seeing Daryl and Merle, my knees buckle and I try to keep myself upright as his eyes lock with mine

I run to him until his big strong arms and holding me tight, see the others gather around

“You found me” I cry as he hides his face in my neck

“I found yer note, I’m sorry I took so long” he set me back down holding my face with his hands gently brushing my tears away

“I don’t care you’re here with us now”

“She’s okay?” I nod as I look over at Merle

“Don’t mess this place up Merle, it’s nice here” he scoffed

“Ya don’t get yer panties in a twist”

The group dispersed and I showed Daryl to my tent

“I was so scared D, and I never got my Chinese” I laugh trying to lighten the mood

“Don’t seem like yer gonna be getting that Chinese anytime soon sunshine”

“Well maybe I can get something else Mr.Dixon”

“Maybe ya can Mrs.Dixon”

•

It’s been a crazy month but the camp was coming together as we were becoming a small community, although Daryl and Merle stayed to themselves keeping that hard demeanor

I was helping clean some clothes with the other girls when we started chatting about our old lives

“I still can’t believe that you, the sweetest thing is with that Dixon” Lori said

“Hey he’s just reserved, trust me he treats me like a princess and I love him more every day”

“Well atleast you got someone to get some” Andrea laughs and my face goes beat red

“What you don’t think we here you darling” Jackie giggles as the other join

“Something funny ladies” Ed groans as he comes up behind us

“Nothing ed just swapping war stories” Andrea states as we all fall silent

“Got something to say?”

“How about you shut your mouths and get back to work”

I gather my clothes putting them in my basket and try to leave I can’t risk this getting out of hand with my baby

“Where do you think you’re going” he states as he grips my arm so tight I let out a whimper

“Let me go Ed” I push at him which only made him angry, he raises his hand and punches me across the face making me fall to the ground

That’s when all hell breaks out, everyone screaming trying to hold him back from me, all I do is scream at the top of my lungs

“DARYL!”

In a split second I see him running down the hills path straight to us with Merle on his tail, Merle can be a hard ass but he cared for the both of us in his own twisted way

“What the hell did ya do ta her” Daryl growls as he takes one look at me on the sand and me hold my face and back to Ed, the anger like fire in his eyes and he made his way over and took one swing and he was out cold on the ground

Merle came down to the ground checking my face, noticing the blood and the purple spreading across the left side of my face, sighing as he helped put the clothes back in the basket

Daryl now infront of me gently brushing my hair back to get a look

“How bad is it D?” I choke out a sob the pain still blooming

“Your eye……it’s blood shot, can you see me”

“It’s fine but it hurts so much”

“Come on sunshine let me get ya cleaned up” Merle took the basket following behind us as Daryl led me back up the hill

Getting to our tent I took the basket from Merle giving thanks as I got back in the tent with Daryl as he pulled out the first aid bag, he disinfected the cut and braided my hair to keep it away from my face

“Thanks for coming down like my Prince Charming”

“Always, how’s the baby?”

“She feels fine, he only got one hit before the others held him back

“I….i miss our home D, I miss you coming home and meeting you at the door, I miss you holding me from behind while I cook and bake, I miss holing up in bed during a thunderstorm while we played music faintly” I sigh laying down with my head on his legs as he ran his hand up and down my back

“I know, when ya told me you were pregnant I started thinking about how we’d make her room together, paint it purple like the cake, me and Merle would make her a crib, and then when I couldn’t find ya I felt like my whole world disappeared”

“Maybe this’ll all blow over and we can go home…….im scared Daryl, what if…what if I get bit what about the baby”

“Hey calm down I ain’t ever gonna let anything happen to ya”

•

Part 2

[agreeewrites]

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door of you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended a hand to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their wellbeing, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You called, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost every day,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hopped up onto the chair, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you knew what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With Remus, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent an owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw each other, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never--with a client—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[archangeldyke-all]

currently thinking ab loving on sevika she deserves the world :((( im tired and cold n i just wanna cuddle w her n have sleepy soft sex aughhh i need her so bad my wifeee

ROSE <33333 i love this i'm gonna combine it with this other ask i got because i want to pamper our wife

Hey Angel!!

Not sure if you've done this before, or are at all interested in this lol.

But I'm thinking butch or stud reader seeing how much sevika is overworking herself (possibly council member sevika?) but they dress up, get her flowers, make her dinner. Or it doesn't have to be anything fancy, maybe running her a bath and giving her a massage. Just sevika having someone to look after her, and however much she protests she's secretly loving it.

I love the idea of reader turning up at her door with a bunch of flowers, a bit nervous

Might be a bit weird lol, totally ignore this if ya want. Hope you had a wonderful new years and Christmas if you celebrate!!

-🌱

men and minors dni

your girlfriend's been busy lately. endlessly busy.

when you started dating sevika, she was an overworked, underpaid grunt for silco. now she's still overworked, though the pay is much better as the ambassador of fucking zaun.

where you used to catch sevika for a few hours at a time at the last drop between her important meetings, now, you're doing the same thing in the fucking council building in piltover. sevika's office is the size of your childhood home. both of you get headaches from the constant stream of sunlight leaking through the giant windows.

you're used to sevika's erratic, unpredictable schedule. but, you're both still adjusting to the bone deep tiredness and anxiety that come with her new responsibilities.

so when you get to her apartment for your weekly dinner date and she doesn't answer; you figure she's running late at work.

you use your spare key to let yourself in, slipping off your fancy dress shoes and finding a vase to display the flowers you brought her in.

you flit around her kitchen, collecting old coffee cups and cereal bowls and loading them in the dishwasher-- just trying to help her straighten up a bit. you know it gets away from her when works rough.

you lose yourself in your tidying, forgetting about your dinner reservations, mindlessly cleaning and fantasizing about your girl.

someday soon you won't have to come over to sevika's place to clean it for her, because you'll be living together. for the time being, sevika needs to live up in piltover as a requirement for her first year as ambassador, but you've been counting down the months until your co-habitation together. on sevika's rare free weekends you've even gone house shopping up on the promenade-- zaun's side of the river, but less of a trek up to the council.

a loud snore breaks you out of your haze, and you giggle as you tiptoe toward your girlfriend's bedroom.

and there she is: not at work but here, fast asleep on top of her covers, her fancy work clothes getting wrinkled as she curls in on her side.

poor thing. sevika doesn't nap willingly, and she clearly didn't mean to fall asleep before your date-- she's just exhausted. you pout a little, pushing her hair out of her face as she snores.

well, fuck it. if sevika needs to spend your date night sleeping, you're not gonna make her do it alone. you carefully pull off your suit jacket and slide out of your trousers, grabbing a throw blanket and being careful not to disturb her too much as you crawl into bed beside her. you over the pair of you up and drape an arm across sevika's waist, settling in for sleep.

two or three hours later, you're awaken to gentle kisses being pressed to your forehead. you're smiling before your eyes can fully open. "g'morning." you mumble. sevika chuckles.

"'s almost ten." she says. you shrug.

"good nap?" you ask. sevika pouts, and you reach up to scratch at her scalp.

"it was needed. 'm just sorry i slept through our date."

"don't worry about it, sevi-bear." you whisper. "we can order delivery pizza and watch a horror flick on the couch."

sevika hums happily, cuddling closer to you. "sounds amazing. just ten more minutes, 'kay?" she asks.

you laugh and shake your head. "no, baby, don't go back to sleep, y'know you won't wake up until morning if you do. and you need to eat something. i doubt you ate lunch..."

sevika pouts. "but 'm so tired." she whines.

you giggle and dart forward, nibbling at her earlobe. sevika gasps, her hands coming out to clutch your hips and drag you closer to her. "i know a fun way to wake you up." you tease. sevika giggles, intertwining her legs with yours to grind against your boxer-clad thigh. you chuckle, slipping your hands down to fondle her ass through her pants and ducking your lips down to suck on her neck.

"fuck." sevika sighs. "b-baby." she stutters. "kiss me." you groan at her request, pulling away from the hickey you were sucking in her neck to smash your lips against hers. sevika whimpers in your mouth, her arms pulling you so tight you struggle to breathe. eventually, she pulls away with a gasp. "y-you take such good care'a me." sevika whispers.

you groan and shove her onto her back, pawing at her pants to get them open. "it's my favorite thing to do in the whole world."

sevika growls and starts shoving at her waist band, desperate to get naked. you scramble between her legs, licking your lips at the promise of what's to come. (haha. cum.)

she's so warm, her body so cozy from the nap and cuddles, and when you finally get between her bare thighs you have to take a moment to breathe in the scent and sight of her. she smells like arousal and a days' worth of sweat and sleep and sevika. she looks fucking desperate. the dark curls of her cunt are soaked and clinging to her skin, and her clit's poking out sweetly, twitching and begging for attention.

"fuck, i could drown in you." you whisper.

sevika growls and makes your wish come true with a harsh tug to the back of your head.

you bury your face against her, letting her grind her clit against your nose while you lap up her leaking cunt, groaning at the taste of her. you reach up to claw at her hips, keeping her pinned to your face while you do your best to devour her.

sevika's shaky and sweet; still waking up, still too tired to care about how she sounds. and she sounds adorable-- soft little squeaks and surprised gasps escaping her, noises she'd usually bite her lip to muffle.

"y-you feel so good." sevika whines. you hum against her, closing your eyes for just a moment at the praise. sevika grunts. "no, no look at me-- fuck!" she whines when you open your eyes, blinking up at her while you shove a hand down your boxers to relieve the ache between your own thighs.

she's so perfect. she tastes like heaven, and she's desperately trying to keep her eyes open through her pleasure so she can keep looking at you.

"baby, fuck, i'm gonna cum." sevika groans. you nod against her, pulling away to gasp for air before diving back down, sucking her clit in your mouth. sevika squeals, and her thighs clamp around your head.

you cum at the feeling of her strong thighs squeezing your head. she cums at the broken, muffled moans you let out against her clit. when she finally lets you up for air, your face is soaking wet.

sevika bursts into laughter at the sight of you. "shit-- did i waterboard you?" she asks through giggles.

you giggle, wiping your face off on her shirt. "almost. i'm getting really good at holding my breath, though, thanks to you."

sevika pulls you on top of her, clinging to you as she cackles. "fantastic date night." she declares. you laugh.

"we haven't even gotten out of bed yet!"

"i'm just saying, we're off to a great start!"

"you go call for delivery, i'm gonna draw you a nice bath." you say, kissing her cheek as you get up. sevika groans and pouts.

"don't leave yet!"

"baby, if i stay any longer we'll both fall asleep." you point out.

she huffs then rolls her eyes. "fine. but will you at least get in the bath with me?" she asks. you grin.

"of course. who else is gonna give you a shoulder massage?"

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

[starz4ieee]

𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

includes: smut, showering together, sleepy matt, cabin with the triplets, some fluff

the cabin is gorgeous.

its a two story cabin with windows facing out to the forest and a lake just down the wooden pathway outside the house.

after all of us unpack and settle into our room, matt and i in the biggest, matt lays on my chest as the exhaustion from the drive takes over his body.

it was only 6pm, so we had an hour or so until sunset.

“whats the plan for tonight?” i wonder and he groans “chris wants to have a campfire, so i think we’re gonna do that and then just head to bed and set up the deck tomorrow”

i run my fingers through his hair, his eyes flutter open and closed while he holds onto me “can we take a nap?” he asks and i laugh “then we wont be able to sleep tonight” he groans and sits up so that his face is infront of mine, he hovers his head by my neck, his mouth grazing my ear

“dont worry, ill tire you out” he says kissing my neck, my eyes shut embracing the sensation coursing through my body but then he suddenly stops

“but not right now” he rests his head on my chest and i give the top of his head a soft flick before letting him drift asleep.

an hour passes and im scrolling through my phone while its at the lowest volume so it doesn’t wake matt up when suddenly the door is being knocked open “WOOO” chris comes storming in.

matt groans and i wince knowing he’s gonna be grumpy “uh oh” chris says, realizing that he had woken matt up “chris” matt says, sitting up slightly and rubbing his eyes “im gonna fucking kill you” chris’s eyes widen “i didn’t know you were sleeping” chris tries to explain “thats why you knock, dumbass”

“yeah yeah, the sun starting to set, nick wants to have the fire now” i nod and matt stays silent, still tired.

“we’ll be out in a few” and chris nods before skipping out of our room and closing the door behind him.

i look down at matt and kiss his forehead, he groans “let’s get changed” i tell him and he agrees.

we all sit by the fire, matt and i changed into hoodies and sweatpants and brought a blanket out that was wrapped around us.

matt put together a smores and held it out for me and i opened my mouth to take a bite but he quickly moved it away from me, he laughed at the unimpressed look on my face “ok ok sorry” he said bringing back to my mouth, i once again go to take a bite and he pulls it away again “matt!” i try to say sturnly but a laugh escapes, i grab his hand and i bring it forward so i can take a bite, and he laughs and wraps his arm around me while i chew the small sweet sandwich that he hands me after im done.

we all sit and laugh around the fire and in a blink of an eye two hours pass. i feel matts head fall on my shoulder as he continues to lazily talk to his brothers.

“are you ready to head in?” i whisper in his ear and he nods immediately, we both stand up and say goodnight to nick and chris as they stay indulged in their conversation.

we make it inside and into our room, i yawn and i throw the blanket onto the floor knowing ill want to wash it tomorrow “i wanna shower” matt and i say at the same time and we laugh, he walks towards the bathroom and motions for me to follow “cmon” i giggle and i follow him into the bathroom, closing the door behind us.

matts hands run over my water soaked body as he rubs the body wash into my skin, he starts at my legs, up my hips, waist and onto my shoulder, his hands find my face and he kisses me, deeply, pulling me so that im fully against him.

after we both wash off, we hop out and dry off, matt wraps his towl around his waist and i put mine on the hanger and i walk over to the bed, laying down fully naked.

matt walks over and locks the door and flicks off the lights.

he drops his towel and gets on the bed to hover over me, he kisses me again and down my neck “are you sure you’re not to tired?” i ask him “im a man of my word sweetheart, and i really wanna piss of chris for waking me up” a giggle escapes my mouth but it quickly turns into a moan as he kisses me neck while his cock pushes slightly between my folds.

my heart patters and i resist the urge to clamp my legs closed, i continues to kiss down my chest while he lines his cock up with my entrance, thrusting rough into me, i moan out and i feel his lips quiver as his lips make contact with my nipple, he sucks and nibbles on them while he takes turns making sure each is getting the same amount of attention while he pounds into me.

i feel a coil in my stomach and the way his thrusts become lazier i know hes close.

he releases my nipple and makes his way up to my ear, “i wanna hear you scream” he says as he thrusts up and hits that special spot, my hand quickly covers my mouth to not let that scream escape “ i don’t want them to hear” i moan softly “cmon baby” he says in a pleading tone, i nod my head and he pulls me from under my thighs so that my legs are wrapped around him.

he sits in his knees and he pounds into that spot that makes me see stars, i feel as i start to come undone “matt” i whine “come for me baby” the sound of our skin slapping fills the room and i let out a scream as i feel my pussy gush around his cock.

he quickly finishes after me, and i let him use me to ride out his orgasm, the overstimulation driving me wild.

were both softly panting and a thin layer of sweat covers his forehead.

he pulls out and lays down next to me, pulling me into his chest and i nuzzle into his warm body “did i tire you out?” he jokes and i roll my eyes before letting out a soft “mhm” he kiss me forehead “they’re gonna kill me tomorrow” he sighed “warned ya” i chuckle.

[only-lonely-star]

ok so basically. after a particularly rough and unfair rumble with the socs, not only is dallas exhausted and sore but hes acting all soft and clingy. when he showed up at your door all he wanted was for his girl to hold him. but he is a mess and hes covered in dirt, blood and sweat so fem reader suggests that he takes a shower but hes like “im tired…” and she suggests that she gets in to help him (COMPLETELY DOMESTIC NOT IN A FREAKY WAY) and dallas is too tired and touch starved to complain so instead of a cocky remark he agrees and reader basically just helps him clean up and get to bed. is this too much?😭 im sorry if it is!!! u 100% do not have to do it!! but ilysm and thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️

🫧⋆｡˚ Bruised and Bare ˚ ｡⋆ 🫧

Warnings - Slight pain inflicted on Dallas. Mentions of blood and bruises. Showering together. Established relationship between fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - Dallas comes to you for some comfort after a rough fight with some Soc boys. You offer to join him in a hot shower to relax and unwind :)

Author’s Note - I love you too, Anon, thank you for your request! 😼😼 Let me just say… DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK TO WRITING. The post-meeting-C.-Thomas-Howell depression is so real and hit me so strong. This is a rather short one, I apologize. I fear if I didn’t get to these requests soon enough then I’d procrastinate even more. I have like four WIPs right now, they’ll be out soon y’all. I love you all SO much, enjoy!!!! 🙈🙈

Word Count - 830

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The sudden knock on your door hadn’t taken you by surprise as you sauntered towards the tall, wooden frame. It was late. Visitors at this hour usually resulted in your rebellious boyfriend, Dallas, looking for a safe haven to spend the night at. It was no surprise when you pulled the doorknob and saw Dallas with a look of defeat and exhaustion in his eyes.

He was hunched over, his shoulders slouched to a new level of low. The boy’s eyes revealed he had endured a tough night already, but the scattered bruises in shades of red and purple told you the full story. “Come on and let me in, just let me cool off for a minute,” he pleaded, his eyes lifeless.

“Oh, Dallas, you went looking for trouble again, didn’t you?” you spoke with playful sarcasm, pulling him inside by the stretched-out collar of his tee.

As Dallas stumbled inside, his boots left footprints of mud across the welcome mat. “No, actually,” he retorted with equal sarcasm, “I took a few blows from them Soc guys we saw that day in the park. I thought I could take three, but hell- I guess not.” Dallas glanced down at his raggedy shirt, one that couldn’t be saved now that it was ripped and torn in just about every place imaginable.

Frowning, you extended a hand to cup his cheek. He looked absolutely defeated - a rare sighting for such a well-known fighter. He didn’t budge at the gentle touch, instead, he stepped forward and snaked his hands to rest on your hips idly. “I’m sorry, baby, c’mere,” you beckoned, gently stroking your thumb across his cheek.

Dallas obeyed, closing the distance between the two of you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, allowing his hand to press yours firmly against his cheek. His lips formed into a small pout. “It hurts, baby. Everywhere. We can just have an easy night and uh…chill in bed, how ‘bout that?”

You grimaced, pulling away slightly. “You ought to shower first, Dal, you ain’t staining my sheets with all that blood… and dirt…and whatever the hell that is,” you pointed to a smear of bright green across his white tee.

The groan Dallas let out was something else. He slouched further and shook your hips vigorously. “Come onnnn, I’m tired. I can’t- I can’t get a hug from my girl? Is that right? I come crawling to you for a simple hug and I can’t even get that?”

His little sob story wasn’t convincing you for shit. “Dallas, don’t hand me that. I’ll even step in with you, that way all you have to do is stand there.”

He shrugged. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to do a thing and on top of that, he got to spend time with you. “Thank you,” Dallas replied sincerely. You could tell right away he meant it, he needed this gentle form of care.

_________________________________________________

As you twisted the knob to adjust the water’s temperature, Dallas analyzed the markings on his cheekbones and under-eye area. His lip seemed to be busted up pretty well, along with a dark purple rim around his left cheekbone. He grinned, “Looks good, don’t it?”

Scoffing playfully, you ushered him closer, “Just get in.” Dallas slowly but surely trudged his way into the tub, standing under the shower head. With another twist, the hot water splashed down from the nozzle, running down his bruised back. His eyes shut instinctively as he felt around the air in front of him for your body. Following him inside, you grabbed the spare white washcloth which hung from the rack located just across the sink. You enclosed yourself inside as you pulled the shower curtain shut.

“Get my back first?” he requested with a soft smile. The exhaustion written on his face was clear as day, but he maintained a sincere tone when speaking with you.

“Yeah, I got you.” His shoulder blades were tense and stiff. The purple spotting along the more tender parts of his back caused a wince from the both of you. Dallas was tough, he’d never admit he’s truly hurt.

“Careful-,” he hissed with clenched teeth, stiffening as he felt your hand pressing the washcloth onto the sensitive area between his shoulders.

“Does that hurt, baby?” you drew back, hovering the dripping fabric over his body.

Dallas sighed meekly. While most was done to his face, he still had sore spots scattered throughout his entire body. “I’m sore all over darlin’, that’s why I just wanted to lay down.”

Feeling your heart clench out of sympathy, you kissed the tender spots along his spine. The steam emitted from the shower head provided the moist heat needed to soothe his aching body, much like your love for him. He found himself able to relax and wind down in the solace of your presence. Who would have thought that even Dallas Winston needed some tender love and care after all?

THANK YOU FOR READING!! YOU ARE THE BEST! ❤️‍🩹

[hyunebunx]

what if i said 💚💞 with hyunjin... oh my god im just imagining it i must lie down

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💚- 'a deep, slow, and deliberately intense kiss filled with passion and desire' & 💞- 'a longing kiss shared after being apart for a while'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. word count: 1k

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: been looking forward to writing this since you requested it >.< so i really hope i did it justice haha. enjoy!! <3 and thank you sm for making me delulu with this!!

The most time you’ve spent apart was two weeks. And even so, they proved to be the longest two weeks of your life. With how clingy and attached to the hip you and your lover were, even the idea of being separated for a prolonged period terrified you beyond belief. Unfortunately, your nightmare came to life when Hyunjin got busy and suddenly, you weren’t spending all of your free time together, but had to squeeze in a call or two, if you were lucky, throughout the day between his shows. Time zones were never your best friend but now, they have become the number one enemy.

Not having him there, next to you, whenever your heart desired proved to be the most difficult thing you could go through. Hyunjin shared the sentiment, often getting emotional on your late night or early morning calls, crying, and being unable to comfort each other properly.

Longing for your beloved was a daily occurrence, even while he was near, but now it became almost painful, consuming your every thought.

Thankfully, your suffering came to an end on a day like any other.

You weren’t expecting it, just returning from a long day at work and dragging your feet around to get ready for bed when the sound of the front door opening caused your heart to stop beating momentarily. Nobody other than you and Hyunjin had the keys to the apartment and still, your mind froze like not being able to wrap itself around the possibility of him returning so soon. Has it already been three months?

Without thinking about it, your feet move automatically, following the faint sounds coming from the living room, eager at the prospect of seeing your one and only again.

You come to a halt when he appears before your eyes, looking the same way he did when he left, just a tad more exhausted.

“Baby?” He asks, voice soft and filled with concern when you don’t reply, or react for that matter. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

Overwhelmed with emotion, you hurry towards him and flung yourself into his arms, with him dropping the bag he was carrying to catch and hug you close, lifting your feet off the ground with ease.

“I missed you so much!”

He giggles, spinning you around once before responding, still not letting go. “There is that sweet voice of yours. I thought you were going to give me the silent treatment for the whole night.”

“I should.” You say, hiding your face in the crock of his neck and tightening your hold on him. “Since you didn’t bother to tell me you’d be returning today.”

“I wanted to surprise you!”

When he finally sets you down, Hyunjin stares deeply into your eyes, fondness and love swirling behind the familiar brown, causing your heart rate to pick up. Without warning, your arms are around his shoulders again, only this time, they help you bring him into a long awaited kiss you’ve been dreaming about for months on end.

As expected, your boyfriend responds in kind, circling your waist to pull you flush against him with such an urgency that could only signal his fear of having you slip through his fingers, disappear like you’re nothing more than a fragment of his rich imagination. Even if rushed, his lips are as gentle as you’ve come to know them, softly loving on yours exactly how you remembered.

Hyunjin could spend hours kissing you – just kissing and stealing your breath away like it was his to begin with, seizing everything that made you the person he adored.

Backing you against the nearest surface, stumbling through scattered bags, he pulls away to chuckle against your lips when your back meets the cold surface of the fridge.

“Surprise.” He runs big hands up and down your back, to soothe any possible discomfort he might have brought forth.

You shake your head, lips curling upwards against his as you reach up to pinch both of his cheeks, causing him to wince and groan lowly. “What if I started bawling my eyes out, hm?”

“Why would you?” Being so close, you manage to understand him even as you move to squeeze his cheeks together in your palms, making him pout involuntarily.

“Because I missed you so, so much and was overwhelmed with emotions?”

He makes to respond but finds himself unable to, furrowing his brows and giving you a pointed look. You grin, breathing him in and finding comfort in his familiar scent, thankful he didn’t seem to run out of your favorite cologne in these three months. When you stop holding his cheeks hostage, Hyunjin opens his mouth to start babbling but you beat him to it by going in for another kiss, not getting enough the first time around.

He relaxes instantly, eyes fluttering shut as he deepens the kiss, slowly sneaking his tongue past your lips to finally taste you after so long. One of his hands dances under your top, kneading at the skin just like a cat, pushing his body more onto yours, simultaneously pinning it against the refrigerator in the process.

All of your movements are slow, set on enjoying the moment for as long as humanely possible. In your mind, parting from him was never an option, but in reality, you were two individuals who unfortunately could not survive on kisses and hugs alone. 

Reality was cruel, you’ve come to learn the moment you fell for Hyunjin and realized you couldn’t always go where he went, stand there and drink him in like you were a moth and him, the flame. Fortunately, it didn’t burn when you got too close.

One of your hands is in his hair, pulling lightly as he nibbles on your bottom lip, needing more and more – to feel more of you, to hear more. You could never get enough of each other.

When Hyunjin pulls away, breaking the kiss but remaining as close as possible, you’re both breathing heavily, flustered, lips swollen and slick with each other. You’re giggling again when your eyes meet, high off of reuniting and being together again after so long, with your boyfriend pushing his long hair out of his face with both hands, visibly shy.

 “I missed you too. So fucking much I almost went insane.” He confesses, voice husky from stealing most of the air in his lungs.

“Next time, I’ll pack you in one of my suitcases and take you with me.”

Your eyes widen comically. “You plan to leave again?!”

That suitcase better be comfy.