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jaylalolz · 9 months ago

Note

hi! can i request more jealous/possessive nicholas? perhaps with some making up?🥹

ty!!!

❛ 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ❜ . . . nicholas chavez

SUMMARY, Nicholas and his girlfriend get into a heated argument after he ignores her all night while out with friends, leading her to turn off her location and go out.

A/N, thanks for requesting!! hope u like it

WARNINGS, none

Nicholas knew he had messed up the second he walked through the door. His phone had been blowing up with unread messages, but he had ignored them—too caught up in the chaos of the night with his friends. She was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, glaring at him like she had been waiting for this confrontation all night.

“You couldn’t send one text?” she snapped as soon as he stepped inside, her voice sharp. “Not one?”

Nicholas sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I told you I was going out with the guys. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is you disappeared! You didn’t answer my calls, didn’t respond to any of my texts. Do you know how that looks? Like you couldn’t care less.” Her eyes flashed with anger, and Nicholas could feel his own frustration rising.

“I was just out having a good time. Why are you blowing this up into something bigger than it is?”

“Because you don’t get it!” She stood up, her voice getting louder. “You always do this. You vanish with your friends and act like I don’t exist for the whole night. It’s like I’m not even on your radar when you’re with them.”

Nicholas clenched his fists, feeling cornered. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I just… didn’t think it was that big of a deal to be off my phone for a few hours.”

“A few hours? Nicholas, it was the entire night! I was worried about you!”

She turned away, grabbing her bag and phone from the counter. Nicholas could see her fingers tapping at her screen, and his stomach twisted when he realized what she was doing.

“Seriously?” he asked, watching as she turned off her location. “You’re pulling this again?”

“If you can’t bother to text me back, then you don’t get to know where I am,” she said coolly, her eyes daring him to say something. Without another word, she stormed out of the apartment, leaving him standing there, frustrated and angry.

Hours passed, and Nicholas was left stewing, replaying the argument over and over. She had every right to be pissed, but the way she just shut him out like that, like he didn’t matter… it made his blood boil. He picked up his phone to check if she’d cooled off yet, but instead, he saw it—a new Instagram story.

She was at the club. Smiling. Laughing. And there, standing next to her, was some guy.

Nicholas’s heart pounded in his chest as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He knew where she was. He wasn’t about to sit there while some random guy made her laugh like nothing had happened.

When he got to the club, it didn’t take long to spot her. She was leaning against the bar, talking to the same guy from her story. Nicholas’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. She was doing this on purpose. She knew he’d see it, knew it would set him off.

Without a second thought, Nicholas pushed through the crowd, his eyes locked on her. He reached her in a few quick strides, his hand gripping her arm, pulling her away from the guy before either of them knew what was happening.

“Nick, what the hell?” she protested, but he didn’t stop. He dragged her through the crowd, ignoring her complaints until they were outside in the humid night air. He didn’t let go until they reached his car, opening the passenger door with more force than necessary.

“Get in,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

She hesitated, eyes flashing with defiance, but she got into the car, slamming the door behind her. Nicholas got in on the driver’s side, gripping the steering wheel to calm the storm inside him before turning to face her.

“You think that was funny?” he growled, his voice barely controlled. “Turning off your location and posting that story, letting me see you with him?”

She glared at him, her arms crossed. “Maybe now you know how it feels when you disappear on me for a whole night.”

“That’s what this is about? Payback?” His voice rose, his anger spilling over. “I was out with my friends, but you—what? You run off to the club, posting stories, talking to random guys just to piss me off?”

“I wasn’t trying to piss you off, Nicholas,” she shot back, her voice sharp. “But maybe I wanted you to notice. Maybe I wanted you to feel what I felt when you ignored me all night.”

“Well, congratulations. You got my attention,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes dark with frustration. “I don’t like seeing you with other guys.”

“Maybe if you actually paid attention to me, I wouldn’t have to find someone else to talk to.”

Nicholas’s temper flared, and without thinking, he reached out, pulling her closer, his grip firm but not rough. “You don’t need anyone else,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “I don’t want you talking to anyone but me.”

Her breath hitched, their faces inches apart now, the tension between them thick and charged. She tried to stay angry, but there was something about the way he was looking at her, the raw intensity in his eyes, that made her pulse quicken.

“You don’t get to ignore me and then act like you own me,” she said, her voice faltering slightly, though the fire in her eyes hadn’t dimmed.

“I do own you,” Nicholas growled, his hand still gripping her waist. “You’re mine.”

For a moment, the air between them was heavy with everything they hadn’t said. The anger, the frustration, the possessiveness—it all tangled together in the space between their heated breaths.

She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Nicholas’s lips crashed against hers, silencing whatever protest was about to leave her mouth. She resisted for half a second, but then she gave in, kissing him back with the same intensity, the same fire.

The kiss was rough, desperate, fueled by all the emotions they had been keeping bottled up. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting against each other, they were both breathing hard, the anger between them replaced by something rawer, something deeper.

“I hate it when you shut me out,” Nicholas murmured, his voice softer now, though still laced with possessiveness. “I hate it when you go to someone else.”

“I only do it because I’m scared you don’t care,” she whispered, her fingers brushing his jaw, softer than before.

“I care,” he said firmly. “More than you know.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the tension easing as they held each other. Eventually, she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I don’t want anyone else but you,” she admitted softly.

Nicholas pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. “Good. Because you’re mine.”

They stayed like that for a while, their earlier argument forgotten, replaced by the certainty that, no matter how much they fought, they always found their way back to each other.

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas chavez fic #nicholas alexander chavez fic #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #charlie mayhew smut #charlie mayhew x reader #nicholas chavez fluff #nicholas chavez x y/n

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 29 days ago

Text

cw - toji x fem!reader, stalking, suggestive, home invasion

an - idk what this is. just something silly i quickly wrote while cooking dinner.

Toji had been slow and methodical. He spent his time watching you for months and months, waiting for the perfect opportunity to get inside your house. He knew you better than he knew himself except he was completely befuddled by your entire existence.

Sure, he didn’t know a lot of 20-year-olds, but he imagined at your young age that you would spend a lot of time out dating, partying, going out with friends but no, you were always at home. Even worse than that, you were always alone at home.

You were a pretty thing, he decided. It wasn’t an issue in the looks department that forced you to stay home alone every night. Were you perhaps socially awkward? Highly likely. Toji had witnessed you talking to your cats about the most random shit on more than one occasion.

He was honestly so fucking enamored with you. You were an enigma. Someone he wanted to steal away from the world just to study you.

Unfortunately for both him and you, time was money, and Toji had found his opportunity to finally break in.

Rustling around in your spare room, he was unplugging the gaming pc you seemed to love so much. He honestly felt a little guilty for stealing that one sims save that you had hyperfixated on for three weeks on end.

There was also that 3-year Stardew Valley save. You could surely get that back if you bought a new pc, right?

Besides, his mouth was watering by the possibility of getting to know more about you. He was going to scour this entire thing for every bit of knowledge before he wiped the hard drive and sold it.

That was when he heard it: the soft sound of the floorboard creaking and the unmistakable meow of your cat. Hopefully, your cat was just getting up to get a bite of food.

“Meoooww,” you said right back to your cat.

Toji froze. Fuck. You shouldn’t be awake right now.

He heard the sound of a TikTok looping on your phone, and he risked taking a small look down the hall. You were using your phone screen as a flashlight. Your tiktok was blaring some obscene edit of a fictional character.

Teach me how to scream. Teach me, Teach me how to scream. Teach me how to scream. Teach me, Teach me how to scream.

In your other hand, a watered down Baja Blast from the Taco Bell you Doordashed earlier.

This was a fucking nightmare. He knew he should’ve done this while you were at work, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to feel close to you, being in the same house as you.

Glancing towards the window, he nearly groaned. It had been completely covered with a blackout curtain that was pinned to the wall. Were you allergic to the sun or something??

Teach me how to scream.

That tiktok was going to be the death of him, except…no, he couldn’t… He shouldn’t.. He should not use your loneliness to his advantage.

He was already stomping into the kitchen. “What the fuck are you doing awake?” he grunted, staring down at you. This was such a surreal experience. The person who he had been shamelessly watching and following was right in front of him, staring at him with big, frightened eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” you shrieked, looking around pathetically before grabbing a knife out of the knife block.

Well, at least you had more self preservation skills than a fucking worm.

“It’s the fifth of June.” He crossed his arms over his chest, still glaring at you.

“So!? I already paid my rent. Please leave—“ You were holding the knife wrong. He sighed. This was honestly just sad.

He stepped forward, making you step back. “It’s the first day of your cycle. You should be in bed asleep. Every fifth day of the month you order takeout, come home, eat, and curl up with a heating pad before hibernating for at least four hours. So, answer my question. Why are you awake?”

Your jaw dropped, staring at this…intense, cruel, enticing man in front of you. You tried to shake the thoughts out of your head. He had been stalking you. He broke into your home!

“You don’t wanna know.” You stepped back one more time. “Please go. If you leave, I promise I won’t tell a soul about this.”

He let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head as he took another step forward. “That’s where you’re wrong, princess. You have no fucking idea how badly I want to know.”

“You’re sick,” you scoff, eyeing him up and down.

“Says the one who’s eye-fucking her home invader.”

“I am not!” You yelled way too defensively. “I’m awake because I bled through my tampon and pad. There. Happy?”

“Damn,” Toji reacted before he thought better. He immediately regretted it as he saw your face twist in hurt. “Don’t give me that look. I’m robbing you, remember?”

“You broke into my house to rob me?” you asked, tears welling into your eyes.

Why did your tears feel like a punch to the gut?

He groaned. He was so beyond fucked — in way too deep. This was already a bust. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Why? So you can rob me?” You accused, pitifully dropping the knife at your side. “Wait. What were you going to steal?” you asked, looking at your cat nervously.

“Relax, princess. I don’t want your fat ass cat.” He shook his head, kicking the knife away from you. Now that you couldn’t hurt him or yourself, he finally approached you. “I’m serious. Come on. I’ll leave once you’re back in bed.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes. Why were you so inclined to believe this stranger? Just because he was insanely attractive, didn’t make him trustworthy. If anything, he had only proved to be horrifically untrustworthy.

“You’re gonna leave with my stuff though,” you murmured, letting him guide you back to your bedroom.

Toji snickered. For a socially awkward introvert, you were pretty funny…and cute too. “Fine. I’ll stay. You don’t have to beg, princess.”

“I wasn’t asking you to stay—“ you protested while Toji tucked you into bed, placing the heating pad on your tummy. He then kicked off his boots before crawling into the bed next to you like he had imagined doing for months.

“Shut up. I’m staying. End of conversation.”

You shuffled in the bed next to him, feeling the weight of his heavy muscular arm wrapping around you. It was inexplicably comforting to have him next to you. You were wrapped up in a warm safe cocoon, lulled to sleep by the subtle hints of his cologne.

Toji was out like a light. He normally tossed and turned in bed for hours before he finally fell asleep, but for whatever reason, his body found immediate peace with you, giving him no time to question what the fuck just happened.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah

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svnriseblvdd · 5 months ago

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neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

SYNOPSIS: with your friend iris in town, the two of you head to a house party, where your short dress and a game of pool send clark's thoughts running wild again.

WARNINGS: reference to perv!clark/reference to general perversion, clark thinks extensively about reader's panties, most of it's innuendo and allusions i won't lie, chloe makes a slight reference to sex on/over a table, random football player starts leering and staring at reader's ass, indirect description of a boner, clark gets a peek of reader's panties, doggy but no sex? (you'll see - they're in the position, but clothes and underwear are still on), clark is still dying for some action.

i might come back and rewrite this part at some point in the future, because i had a couple more ideas i wanted to put in but couldn't figure out at the time, and the ending falls a little flat - i knew i wanted something extra, but i think it just lacks what i wanted.

part one! part two! part three! part four! part five!

Your friend Iris is across the room while music flows through the space, loud and deep, settling into your bones. She’s flirting with a guy from the football team. You’ve already assured her she will not be borrowing your bedroom if she decides to hook up with the guy, so she might as well go home with him or just find a room upstairs to use. This house belongs to one of the football players, they’re always throwing big parties.

Since Iris headed off ten minutes ago, you’ve been hovering a little awkwardly near the couches, except now there’s two couples making out on one of them, and then the other is filled with a group of friends you’re pretty sure are stoned out of their minds.

So now you’re just looking for anyone to talk to or at least linger by without looking weird and lonely. Someone you know.

Your face lights up in a smile when you notice exactly the people you need. Chloe and Lana are across the room, Chloe clearly judging people and Lana nodding her head either to the music or to Chloe’s comments. Lana smiles when she sees you, waving you over to them.

You cross the room, greeting them both with a grin and an excited, “Hi!”

“Hey, you look amazing!” Lana compliments.

“Thank you! You’re so gorgeous!”

“Is your friend having a good time?”

“I’d say so,” Chloe says, looking toward Iris, who’s mid-makeout with the aforementioned football player. Good for her.

Speaking of makeouts with football players, you need to find Clark.

Clark spies you from across the room on his way back to Chloe and Lana, drink in hand. As always, he thinks he might combust. Your dress hugs your figure, clinging like a second skin, and it’s so short that if he follows the lines of your legs from your feet up, it feels like they might never end.

And as always, his mind wanders. He thinks about how easy it would be to pick you up, wrap your legs around his waist. How your dress is short enough that it would hike up all by itself, bunching around your hips and showing off your panties. His x-ray vision means that he could just take a peek, but he refuses. It’s bad enough that he thinks about it, but to actually invade your privacy, to perv on you like that? He couldn’t. Surely not. He’ll let himself resort to his fantasies. His fantasies picture all manner of things.

Black, like the dress - lacy, very simple and nothing out of the ordinary really, but entirely sexy. A bold red, maybe - it leaves little to the imagination, it only really covers the bare minimum and leaves the rest so plain to see. But then he pictures something lighter, a pastel pink or blue perhaps. And that’s what sends his mind into a frenzy. Delicate, soft in its colour, cotton and lace, the prettiest he’d imagined yet. Just like one he’d seen on your bed that time he came over to help put your furniture together.

He approaches the three of you nevertheless, pushing his thoughts into the back of his mind.

“Clark!” You greet him with your bright smile.

“Hey!”

“I want to play pool, do you want to join?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Great! I’ll get it set up, you come over when you’re ready.”

He watches you walk away, hips swaying gently as you approach the pool table. “She’s so into you,” Chloe mutters, laughing.

“What?” He asks, eyebrows quirked. “No, she’s not.”

“Clark, she’s just invited you to go watch her bend over a table. Trust me, she’s into you.”

His cheeks flush red as he shakes his head. “No. No, she’s just- she says and does things without realising.”

“Oh, she realises,” Lana says, laughing a little. “She wants you to notice her.”

“I do notice her!”

“Not in the way that she wants. Not that she can see, anyway. To everyone else, it’s plainly obvious that you’re head-over-heels for the girl,” Chloe says. “Now go. She’s waiting for you.”

He joins you over at the pool table, where you’ve set it up. It’s only now that it’s just you and him that he realises you’re tipsy. He can see it in your eyes and the lazy smile on your face, and the way you stumble just a little into him, holding his biceps for support.

“Ladies first,” he says, watching you smile wider and turn to the table.

You walk to the other end as Clark lifts the triangle, and you bend at the waist, lining up your shot. You split the balls, and the game begins.

Halfway through, on your turn again, you bend at the waist once again, this time a little closer to Clark. And this time, one of the football players, Nathan, stares at your ass as you begin to bend over. Before he can see any more, Clark steps in the way, blocking Nathan’s view and shooting him a glare.

Nathan raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, Kent. I didn’t know y’all were like that.” And he moves on.

Clark rolls his eyes a little.

Right towards the end, with you surprisingly in the lead - although Clark’s willing to bet that he’s at a disadvantage, given that most of his blood is travelling in the opposite direction away from his brain and somewhere it is not currently needed - you go to take another shot. You evaluate a few angles, then decide on one. Clark is leaning against a wall, watching you move around the table with careful thought. And then you find your ideal angle.

The best place you can take this shot from and still have a chance at potting it is by standing right in front of Clark.

So you stand there, and bend over again. Clark hadn’t seen it before, careful to move with you so that he never had to be standing at an angle where he’d see much, if anything, when you bent over. But this shot was far too difficult to predict where you’d go, nowhere was ideal. So he’d stuck where he was and begged whatever power there was that you didn’t need to stand in front of him. But the powers are betting against him.

You bend over, so your torso is at a parallel angle to the table, and line up your shot. And Clark doesn’t mean to look, really. But just like in the car the other day when he’d glanced at your tits, your ass is right there. How was he supposed to know that your dress was so short he’d be able to see your panties?

The best of his fantasies are fulfilled when he glimpses your baby blue underwear, just like he imagined it. Cotton, but he can see the beginnings of lace detail. It covers you well, until it reaches your ass, where the material begins to thin, and it becomes just a flimsy thing that rests between your ass cheeks. He’d imagined the thong before, not half an hour ago. But now he was seeing it.

You stumble a little, out of nowhere seemingly, and he’s quick to grip your hips to stabilise you. And now his crotch is pretty much against your ass. Now it just looks like he’s about to take you from behind.

“Uh-” He lets you go. “You okay?”

“Mm-hm. I’m about to win. I couldn’t be better.”

“Yeah, well, there’s still time, don’t get your hopes too high.”

Except Clark knows it would take a miracle for him to win now. His head’s too clouded with lust, his brain is so deprived of blood it should be concerning, and he’s so hard it’s painful. He thinks he might just finish in his pants any minute. And if he didn’t know better, he’d think that you’re doing this to him intentionally. But you’re too tipsy and he’s seen the way you are normally, always saying and doing things by accident or without realising the double entendre.

Or so he thinks.

Thing is, you didn’t really come here with a plan to try to rile him up. You know it never usually seems to work - Clark’s awkward, and far too respectful to objectify you, even if you’re practically begging him to (or so you think). You love how respectful Clark is, really, and you’re glad he was raised right, but just once you want him to throw that out the window, be as depraved as he can be, lustful and carnal. He’s so easily-flustered and touch-starved, you know that he has to have locked up all those urges and desires somewhere. You really didn’t plan anything tonight, the tipsiness seems to have done some of it for you.

When you win the match a little later, you cheer and jump in celebration, Clark smiling at you and keeping his eyes very much on yours. You hug him joyfully, and he wraps his strong arms around you.

It was strange how a man so physically imposing could hold so much comfort.

~~~

“So, how was your night?” Iris asks over a cup of coffee as the two of you sit in the Talon.

You smile. “Pretty good. You?”

“Very good.”

Later on, when Clark arrives with Chloe, Pete, and Lana, Iris wiggles her eyebrows at you, and you roll your eyes before inviting them to join you.

The others all take their seats, leaving Clark to sit next to you.

He looks flushed, but you choose not to comment.

taglist;

@artyandink

@blueeweeb

@ssnapsaurus

@i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this

@milestellerismybf

@purple-1995

@writergiih

@elysianrosie

@glennussy

@rainwaterxx

#muse: clark #clark kent imagine #clark kent smut #clark kent x reader #smallville clark kent #smallville clark kent x reader

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i-cant-sing · 1 year ago

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Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

#rich man has weird ways of adopting kids that dont consent to adoption #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere dc #batfam x reader

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morgan-va · 3 months ago

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Ena x G/N Reader HCs: An Ode To Isekai (Or, How You Destroy Her and Moony’s Sandwiches)

One moment, you were choking on a pickle that the employee at your favorite fast food restaurant neglected to remove. The next, you were plummeting through a swirling mess of distorted colors, shapes shifting around you like a broken computer screen. Gravity twisted in ways it shouldn’t, and just when you thought you’d keep falling forever—

THUD.

“AAAH! OUR BEAUTIFUL, PEACEFUL PICNIC! DESTROYED! TRAGEDY! WOE IS ME!”

The voice was loud, dramatic, and oddly robotic, and as you groaned, struggling to push yourself up, you realized you’d landed right on top of a checkered picnic blanket… and two figures. One was an angular, multi-colored humanoid flailing her arms wildly, and the other was a round, moon-faced being staring blankly at you.

The nausea was instant. The sky was glitching, the grass beneath you was pixelated, and the entire world meshed together with low-poly graphics. Panic clawed at your chest.

“Oh! How fascinating! A new specimen! A new friend! A LOST SOUL!” The colorful girl’s tone flipped in an instant, her arms outstretched as if you were some grand discovery.

You barely had time to react before she yanked you upright with alarming strength. “Salutations! My name is Ena! And you are…?”

ENA is immediately, intensely curious about you. One second she’s mourning the loss of her sandwiches, the next she’s staring at you with her face way too close to yours, inspecting you like you’re some rare artifact.

“How peculiar! You have skin! And your eyes—so full of FEAR and EXISTENTIAL DREAD! Adorable!”

The one apparently named Moony, still sitting on the ground, tilts her head. “You look sick. Don’t vomit on my blanket.”

You do, in fact, feel sick. The ground beneath you doesn’t feel real, and the sky keeps shifting between daytime and nighttime. Your body feels out of place in this world.

“Oh nyo, my new chum is feewing siwck :c dis is allll my fauwlt” Ena cries, polygonal tears falling out of her eyes and literally bouncing off of you. However, she notices your shaky breathing, and she seems to pause her breakdown. Then her tone shifts into something oddly clinical. “Ah. I see. Overwhelmed. Confused. Rapid heart rate. Nausea. Ah, yes. Yes yes yes. Yes yes. Expected results.”

“Do not worry, my fleshy, fragile companion! I, Ena, shall teach you the ways of this realm! Perhaps you shall THRIVE! Or perish horribly. But no! I shall ensure your survival! HOPEFULMISTICALLY!”

She switches between exaggerated theatrics and cold, matter-of-fact, and often bizarre statements at random, which does not help your anxiety.

At first, her advice isn’t very helpful, or well, maybe it is, at this point you aren’t sure of anything anymore. “Do not drink the water from the drinking fountains. Or do. It might turn you into a dog. Or erase your mouth. It’s a gamble! And you know what God says about that!”

Eventually, though, she starts learning how to help in a more… normal way. She slows down when she notices you trembling, and after a long pause, she mutters, “You feel like you don’t belong here, don’t you?”

It’s the first time her voice sounds completely even. No wild swing, no emotional outburst, Just quiet understanding, as if both of her sides are coequal in their understanding.

She places a hand on your shoulder. “I know that feeling. I still feel that way, most of the time.”

“But,” she continues, suddenly perking up, her yellow side taking control again, “I have ADAPTED! And so can you!”

You’re not entirely convinced. But the way she begins doing a strange dance around you like you’ve already won something makes it hard to stay hopeless.

“Besides! You have me now! A trusty, glorious, questionably competent guide! Let us find you STABILITY! Or at least, a divine snack.”

Moony finally chimes in again. “... You still crushed my sandwich.”

Ena gasps. “And a REPLACEMENT SANDWICH! Quickly, to the food vendor! Or the wishing well! Maybe we’ll be lucky and summon a perfect BLT (Barely Legible Tomato) from the void!”

#ena dream bbq #ena joel g #ena fanfiction #ena x reader

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shinkqe · 2 months ago

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Sinister!Mark x ChildhoodfriendF!Mc

Random idea popped into my head as I was day dreaming, what if Childhoodfriend!Mc who’s become rather disconnected from Main!Mark ever since he’s gotten his powers had bumped into a different Mark, where perhaps they were not so disconnected?

Warning; smut HAHA first time writing it so idek how goonable it is lol. Uhmm cunnilingus and just like smut stuff.

This is barely proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Wc:2304

You and Mark Grayson had been best friends growing up, well you Mark and William, the three of you would do anything and everything together, whether it be climb up a tree and get stuck in it, or put what little scrap change your parents had to offer you as an allowance and buy a gaming console collectively, it helped that your mother was a good friend of Debbie Grayson. The three of you would go on to attend the same highschool, and although divided by classes lunch was prime hangout time for you three, or so it had been.

Recently, you’ve noticed less communication from Mark, even though William would still speak with you, it seemed like Mark had become distant, busy, strangely enough it seemed it was this way only for you. You couldn’t help but notice William and Mark walking down the hallway, but before you could butt in and say something Mark seemed to be getting in some kind of fight, it was the same guy who punched him last time. You didn’t take Mark for a masochist at least, however it seemed Mark ate the punches with zero regard, it was an odd sight to see, but before you could even approach them the bell rang. It felt like there was just no time for you to even get a word in anymore.

In your next period, you shot Mark a text… a text that had been answered about 3 weeks later.

‘Hey sorry, fell asleep’

Staring down at the text you looked at it with confusion, a 3 week sleep? Well.. whatever. You sent one back stating it was fine and asking how he was, which of course also went straight to the void. You Weren’t mad, just.. hurt. You had known him for years and yet you couldn’t even seem to hold a conversation with him any longer. However how were you supposed to know that he was mid fight with some ugly creature from who knows where, stopping it from devouring families whole.

As the weeks went on it became months, from months to years, now you were a college freshman, all big and graduated from highschool, you had new friends, new aspersions, everything. Even then you would frequently send baked goods your mom made for Debbie over to their household. Your relationship with Debbie was still rather strong, she had been like an aunt to you and still held that connection every time she saw you…

It was a normal day, as normal as it could be really, you just finished your classes and we’re taking a. Walk around the neighborhood, mainly trying to find a certain flower you had to draw for an art class, however as you walked you started realizing the disarray of everything, people scattering, screaming, buildings collapsing and limbs… limbs flying everywhere. Frozen in place momentarily, you had no clue what was happening. However you knew that you had to run..

You snapped out of it as a man directly in front of you had been squashed beneath parts of a falling building, your clothes and shoes covered in blood, with some splashes of blood resting upon your cheeks. You slowly turned, swallowing a lump in your throat, eyes wide from the sight before you. You took a small step, then a bigger one, then another, your foot heavy, it felt as if each foot carried a weight on it, however you continued stepping until you finally found yourself bolting it out of there.

Finally making it into a quiet and dark alley, you rested against a wall, pausing, rising your hands into view as you saw the blood, blood of that dead man.. your entire body trembled as you felt tears push to escape your eyes, your vision becoming blurred, you’ve never watched somebody die, you never been right in front of them, this was not something you could ever imagine even seeing. It terrified you. Lingering nearby had been bigger threats.

“Oho..? Is that a survivor I see? How should I torture you? Slowly?” The voice rang out a mockingly sweet tone, however it had inexplainable amounts of malice laced beneath it. The figure approached you, grabbing your chin harshly, causing jarring pain in your jaw. “Mmm..! Ow-!” Forcibly, you turned your head towards the man, your eyes still hazy due to just crying, silence ringing out for a few moments.

“Oh… hehhh~? That’s surprising, I would’ve expected to find you somewhere Much closer to this universes Mark.” The grip on your jaw dropped, becoming just a slight hold. “Well, aren’t you a beauty in this universe as well?” A hand finds its way on your hip, pressing down on the bone beneath your skin, showing significant power and yet not taking any action. “Who are you?!” Your voice rings out, choked from not speaking for the past whike, the voice had sounded comfortingly familiar, and yet the actions had been cold and unknowing. A soft chuckle rings out, followed by the sounds of fabric, he was removing his mask.

“You don’t know me? Don’t tell me this Mark passed up on an opportunity like you?” He seemed to derive joy from teasing you in such a way. You inhale, hehe seeming to let go of it as you focus on his face, brows furrowing before the breath finally leaves your lungs. “Mark..?” You ask cautiously, a loud laugh emerges from the man, seemingly on the brink of insanity. “My God, it’s been so long since I’ve seen your beautiful face, wish that earthquake never happened that took you, we would’ve had beautiful kids to take over this universe.” The distance between the two of you closed, his head resting on your shoulder, his breath pressing against your neck.

“Well, I can always just have a child with you. Maybe eventually it’ll find me when I get sent back..” he murmured to him self against your neck, your body paused before trying to wiggle away, however it was almost instant the moment he felt your body KOVE away his hands pinned yours against the wall, lips meeting your neck, teeth meeting it as well, he bit into the flesh just barely drawing blood. You yelped out, resulting in yet another laugh, in the crook of your neck you felt his tongue trace upwards and to your jaw. “Fuck, when you make that sound it excites me too much, you gotta stop it before I decide you’re worth holding my children.”

The man’s knee raised itself between your thighs, pressing his kneecap against the heat of your core. The sensation was unexpected, however the familiarity of it being Mark had been oddly comforting, your breath becoming more steady as you fondly remembered the man in front of you, however he was much different than you remembered. His eyes were devouring you, his hand leaving your hip as he grabbed the fabric of your shirt, ripping it off swiftly leaving you in nothing but a bra. “These look so familiar, I fucking love you.” As he speaks he removes your bra, immediately palming your breast, squeezing it with desperation.

Your bottom lip quivered, heart racing as you were unsure whether you would allow him to make love to you or scream in a desperate attempt to possibly escape this, however you couldn’t deny that the way his knee had been massaging your core absentmindedly with a knee was basically enough to convince you to to allow him. “You.. y-you had some other kind of version of me,,, so.. you aren’t the Mark I know.?” You asked, looking down at him, watching as he completely ignored your question, opening is mouth and taking a mouthful of your bosom inside of his mouth. Your jaw clenched as you felt his teeth clamp around the sensitive bud, enough to hurt but not enough to do any real damage. Your jaw clenched grunt out in pain, unintentionally fuelling him.

With your beautiful grunt of pain he hummed, a chuckle emerging from deep in his throat as his hand worked on unbuttoning your pants, moving his knee out of the way and pulling them down. You were screwed now, as he pulled down your pants the wetness of your arousal became rather visible, a smirk befalling his lips as he pulled away, eyes not even bothering to meet yours, treating you as if you were just a body, and he was going to use it.

His lips met the skin between your chest, pressing against your skin so hard he could practically feel your sternum. He inhaled your scent, sucking and lapping up at the space between your chest before slowly lowering himself down. Kissing along your body as he lowered himself to his knees, both hands resting on your thighs as he met himself face to face with your panties. Pressing his nose against them, he inhaled, shakily breathing out. “I wonder if you taste the same ..” your eyes watch him half lidded, Bottom lip encased between your teeth as he licks at your panties, soaking them with his saliva while still on your person.

His fingers find themselves in the waistband of your panties as he pulls them down, sniffing them one last time before shoving them into a pocket. Attention back on your leaky cunt he dives in face first, his tongue pressing against your hole, lapping up your arousal whike his nose pressed against your sensitive clit, fingers tracing around your entrance, laughing against your core in amusement as he felt you clench around nothing. The yellow caped Mark had been having a field day, savouring your scent as if you were dead where he came from.

Mark hooked his arms beneath your thighs pulling your cunt closer to him as she sucked and nibbled at your clit rewarding himself with the sweet taste of your juices. Your body shook with pleasure, hands tugging at the hair of his head, hips buckling towards his face as to gain more friction between the two of you. Your movements resulted in your sensitive bud rubbing against his nose frantically, causing you to throw your head back, body sweaty as your jaw laid open. In a high of pleasure, chasing a climax you used his face, thighs squeezing around his head as your pace became sloppy and rushed, finally finishing directly on his face.

Your breath was heavy as your vision returned, looking down you watched as he lapped up all of your cum. “Yeah.. just as tasty as I remembered.. fuck, I have to.. you have to .. have my child.” He breathed heavily, hastily removing his clothing, holding you against the wall as he pulled out his erect cock, lining it up with your hole, however it wasn’t like he had prepared your hole with his fingers beforehand, leaving you to experience his cock stretching you completely. His tip pressed against your entrance, eyes focused on yours as he pressed against you. “Fffuuck, clearly the mark here doesn’t fuck you like I did, huh bitch?” His arms embraced your figure as he shoved every inch of him inside of you, groaning as he felt your tight hole absorb him.

“Tight.. fuck.” His hands grip your waist, squeezing it. “Tell me whore, does he stuff you like this.?” His grip gets tighter, causing pain. “Ahhhhnnmmm~! Fuck..! N-no I don’t even t-taaalk.. to him..” your voice came out strained as his hands lifted you, slamming you back down on his length, causing a jarring moan to escape your lips. Your answer seems to excite him, a deranged laugh escaping his lips. “So hes never fucked you like this hm? I’m.. first~” his pace doesn’t falter, infact he picks it up. Slamming you down harder, he felt the need to breed, leave a permanent mark on this universe. Unlike the cities he could destroy that would be fixed, leaving a child would forever remain.

Your throat became dry, moans echoing out throughout the alleyway. He fucked himself deeper inside of you, his movements stuttering as he felt himself climaxing, burying his cum deep into your cunt. “Come on.. you.. you’re going to be my little.. cum whore. I’m going to get you soo totally fucking.. pregnant.” His hand slapped your ass, doing whatever he could to inflict physical pain, hearing you yelp out in pain he only picked up the speed more. And for the first time during this entire encounter he pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss was messy, unhinged and dirty. Saliva being swapped between the two of you, no clue who’s was who’s. The kiss became softer as his pace began to slow down, suddenly speeding up once last time as he rutted himself into your tight cunt, climaxing once more before slowly pulling himself out, his skin was sweaty and breath was uneven. He ran a hand through his hair, watching as you fell down to the floor legs partially numb. He got dressed once more, pressing a kiss against your skin. “Don’t be a dumb bitch, get to safety somewhere, you better get pregnant and have my child.” He then flew away, without even a second glance.

You sat against that brick wall for a while, body used with marks all of your hips, neck and chest, unsure of where to even go, he tore up everything besides your shorts anyway.. you slowly picked yourself up, putting on your shorts. You stumbled out of the alley, using your arms to protect your chest from being exposed indecently, only making it a few steps before bumping into someone.

“Woahah, are you okay… oh.” The man turned, a blue and black suit, looking down at you he seemed worried. “Y/N? What.. happened.?” The voice sounded familiar once more, however this time even the tone resembled the Mark you knew. Seeing as the last man who wore this superhero persona was mark, it was a fair guess to assume this was him too. “Mark.? Like.. the real Mark.. from here?” He seemed shocked, coughing, not sure how you even knew his true identity. “Uhhh, yeah yeah, sorry we haven’t spoken in a while I’ve been busy being invincible.. but man you look worn out and uh.. naked..?” He avoided his gaze, calling over Eve, mainly so she could materialize a shirt for you. “Well, let’s get you somewhere safe alright? At least you don’t seem badly injured just pretty marked up.” Yeah, definitely marked up.

——————————————————————————

Oh wow was that end cringe or what, anyways tysm for reading!!

#mark grayson #invincible #sinister mark #mark variants #mark x reader #sinister dom #sinister invincible #invincible x reader #atom eve #smut

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 4 months ago

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Platonic Yandere Demon Queen Headcannons (1)

Introduction | Part 2 | Kofi

The Demon Queen is adamant that you drink from her even if you're a month off of weening

She just has to get that instinct out

Constantly holding you against her monumental chest just like she did with her first

Unlike humans who have a nursery, demons make nests

A Soft comfortable place for her and her baby

Hers is in the deep dungeons of one of her many castles

Moving to an identical copy of her nest for wherever she feels like

Currently, her nest is like a pod

Open and closed by a very specific spell

The floor is a carpet of flower petals, soft, soothing, and place magically grown to keep fussy babies calm

And that’s what life’s like for you, if not in the soft chest of your new Mama

It’ll be weeks before she will actually part with you to attend her duties

Rarely does she deem any situation dire enough to leave her nest

But when she does you’re in tow

Swaddled and likely sleeping she has a standing bassinet

Level and matching with her skull-covered throne

“Ah!”

“Yes, we’ll do the obvious thwing mwy lwove!”

“We’ll….proceed with the assassin plan?”

“YES IDIOT! Now go it smells like my baby needs a diaper change!”

Your Demon Queen Mama doesn’t care in the slightest that you’re a human

She loves how long it’s taking for you to grow just a little bit

Demon babes with their extra month in the womb spend less time getting older

Humans on the other hand have a more standard rate of growth

Which she quickly studies up on when she gets concerned that you aren’t speaking yet and can barely lift your head on your own

She proudly hold you in her arms as she speaks to her generals about your development

Her generals will often share there own knowledge about children in concern about hers

While she may scoff and wave them off

Their concerns usually ignite something she was wondering about

“My Queen is a human babe supposed to not have teeth at this age? Perhaps they’ll need implants?”

“FOOLISH! My baby will need no such thing!”

“I see. Excuse me, my lady.”

“....Say (Y/n) will teeth somehow magically appear within here?”

“Ohhh! Baa!”

Other than the strong learning curve she adores her human baby and celebrates all your major milestones

Making sure to execute anyone who refuses you or even remotely doesn’t pretend to also be so proud

And the first that she does this to is her concubines

You didn’t think she just had this baby with some random

No no no

She has a total of three concubines, every now and then she’ll accept another for political purposes but it’s a known fact that they won’t last long

After all her three concubines are known as the three Reapers

One way or another making sure they are the only ones in the Queen’s bed

Something the Queen has always treasured

Loyalty with their entire being

From fear and love a volatile mix of both

The same that she has with you

And who better to teach you about what to expect than them

She’s…cautious when it comes to you meeting them

While she can’t deny they were among the few who could be near her when she had her…..slump

She also knows their ruthlessness does not stop at rivals in love

anyone who threatens her reign, happiness, and goals they intervene

Usually without her instruction

She worries they might do the same

But of course both scaring and exciting, the first concubine approaches first

“Oh my Queen! May I sit on the edge of your nest to see your precious baby?”

“You…may…”

She refuses to let her eldest concubine come much closer than that

Already bold to even enter the room, she’s suspicious of her

Her eldest concubine is Milune, gorgeous as she is soft

She’s the Queen’s go-to for comfort

Unbelievably soft in a world full of demons, the Queen adores the balance

she thanks her human parents for that

“My Queen I’ve brought a specially crafted wunzie for your little one! Can they try it on?”

“They can…but I will inspect it first.”

“Of course!”

The Queen does recall just how eager she was to help her craft her nest

Lovingly adding her unique magic to the protective spells around it

Recalling a discussion she had with her about being a mother herself

“If my Queen wished it I’d love to conceive for you! Or to handle the raising of the little one when you’re crushing all of humanity! Whatever you wish for your majesty!”

Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea to let her hold you….only once of course

“Ahh~! Look at you! Aren’t you a joy to behold!”

Milune is holding you up high and filling your face with kisses

Making baby you laugh

The Queen is torn between happiness at her acceptance of you….and jealousy

Now beginning to master walking, she’s just sad you aren’t crawling only to her anymore

…but she figures its not that bad when she finds a gaggle of elven assassins dead bodies strewn all over the hallway

“They got far too close to the baby, my Queen! Plus the little one just got down for their nap!”

She’s pretty sure your hearing isn’t that good but she doesn’t mind

In fact she thinks it’s great

Absolutely showering Milune in affection and more responsibility with you

“Oh little one! Come sit in mama Milune’s lap! While we watch your Mama massacre these insolent worms.”

Milune is delighted

As someone who grieved alongside the Queen, your existence brings her a similar joy

And what better way to honor her Queen and love by showering you in the same obsession her Queen adores

When she pretends that your her baby too you are

She’s certain she’d do anything for you and kill whoever she’s allied with to protect you

Including the concubines she’s made a pact with...

TBC...

#platonic yandere x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #baby reader #yandere platonic x reader #platonic yandere monster #platonic yandere mother #yandere demon queen #yandere demon king #yandere platonic #platonic yanderes #part 1

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nemisuki · 3 months ago

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𐔌 ✧.* ᴅᴀᴡɴʙʀᴇᴀᴋ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ || Ever since they were children, his birthdays have always become staple memories in their love story.

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, tooth rotting fluff, no smut or angst, no quirks au, college, bkg birthday special, soft + protective bkg, lots of buildup & foreshadowing, 5.3k word count

♬ || inspired by this song : spotify version & yt version ᯓ★

You would expect a college student to face bigger issues in life.

Maybe she'd struggle with her studies, stress regarding her internship or simply become overwhelmed with newfound adulthood.

But nothing could compare to the biggest challenge yet — a dilemma she has every year — one that has her tossing and turning for continuous sleepless nights.

Finding her boyfriend a birthday present.

It didn't help that she was dating Katsuki Bakugo out of all people. Her hot tempered classmate — notably from a well-off family — who already has everything imaginable.

From a gorgeous drum set to a variety of expensive smelling cologne, it was safe to say that the boy had it all.

All but one thing, that is.

It took the effort of looking back in the past, their adolescent years — perhaps due to nostalgia — trying to find a clue of what gift to surprise him with.

"Kacchan! It's your birthday today?!"

Y/N L/N, age 5, approaches the boy with awe filled eyes.

Taking notice of the abnormal amount of gifts piled up on his desk. A huge assortment of candy scattered across the polished wood surface.

The blonde looks at her with a smug expression — smirk and all — shrugging with fake nonchalance.

"Of course it is! Can't you see all the stuff everyones given me? It should practically be a national holiday!"

To others, his arrogant words may cause — rightfully so — reactions of discontent, but to y/n, she could only find humor in his proud response, soft giggles escaping her mouth.

The sound made him immediately frown.

"What's so funny?!"

"You're a little weird Kacchan, but I like you!"

"Agh— you—"

A small blush involuntarily forms on his face, painting his ivory skin in a hue of pink and red, resembling the colored pack of skittles on his desk.

The boy avoids eye contact, fidgeting with the hem of his black skull t-shirt as he tries to change the subject, not wanting her to see him like this.

"S-So what'd ya' get me huh?!"

She gasps.

A sense of guilt bubbling within her veins as she showed up to school empty handed, as always quite absent minded.

His gaze hesitantly meets hers, now less flustered, giving her a suspicious look with narrowed crimson eyes.

"Hah?! Don't tell me you forgot!"

She panics, scrambling back to her desk, her little form moving with new found purpose.

"Ah— wait Kacchan, I'll be right back!"

"Hmph, idiot..."

Despite the small insult, his gaze never leaves her figure — almost protectively — monitoring her hasty actions from afar.

She practically empties her entire book bag in a frenzy, searching for something worthy enough to give him.

Waddling back a few minutes later with a bright smile, gleaming of success. He expectantly holds out his hand, an overly self-assured grin on his face.

"Took ya' long enough! Hand it over then!"

She plops the item on his palm with glee.

His previous grin slowly morphing into a look of confusion, furrowed brows and all, picking up the mysterious object up with two fingers.

"The heck is this?"

"It's my bracelet! You can have it, Kacchan! It's the most special thing I have!"

He scoffs.

Beginning to tug at the rainbow loom bracelet, a few elastics twisting in an incohesive manner, random colors mixing all over the place.

An odd dangling pendant of a bunny sparkling in the sunlight.

"It looks weird as hell, where did you even get this junk, hah?"

Maybe saying that was a mistake.

Because he immediately freezes, seeing a wave of sadness overtake her expression, pouting at his words as she fidgets with her fingers.

"Kacchan, that was mean... I made that..."

The smile that usually lingers on her face is long gone as a different set of emotions floods in.

It's unlike her, the usual ball of sunshine suddenly lessened into a puddle of dejection, and it's all because of him.

And for some odd reason, the little boy scrambles to find something to say, anything, the sudden tension between them — too thick for him to continue on without her usual bubbly self.

"Uh wait— I didn't—"

"Did you... really not like it?"

"That's not— tch! Here you idiot!"

Her eyes widen as he grabs a handful of candies, abruptly dropping them in her arms.

She fumbles around as some fall to the floor, trying to regain her balance at the amount of stuff in her hands.

"Ah—! But Kacchan, these are your presents—"

He shoos her off, gently pushing the girl to begin retreating to her desk.

"Just take them in return for the damn bracelet! I can't possibly finish these by myself anyways! Or do you want me to trash perfectly good candy?!"

"Eh?! No of course not—"

"Tsk, that's what I thought! Now go on!"

The blonde plops back down at his desk, watching — from his peripherals — as she makes it back to her seat, dropping the pile of candy on her table.

Her cheerful smile returns in full force as she opens a starburst.

He could only flush bright red when they made eye contact, the girl enthusiastically waving back at him as she shouted across the classroom.

No shame detected, even when others turn to look at the commotion, so like her.

"Thank you Kacchan! Happy Birthday!"

"Mph—"

He immediately looks away, trying to ignore the intense heartbeat in his ears, the odd sensation whenever she is around.

No matter how many times he tried scaring her off, she stayed stuck to his side like glue.

She didn't know at the time that his feelings for her started so soon — at the mere age of 5 — so call her surprised when he continued to wear that flimsy bracelet, up to their middle school days.

Until the day it broke, coincidentally, on his 14th birthday.

“Oi.”

She yelps, her soul quite literally jumping out of her skin, as she turns to meet his serious gaze. Giving a sheepish smile in response, after all, it’s not everyday he willingly starts the conversations now.

The transition from elementary to junior high was certainly… something.

It’s not like before, the carefree feeling of approaching a friend — despite his grumpiness — now lessened into a dynamic of mere classmates.

This development wouldn’t have been her choice, he’s changed now, or atleast, that’s what she originally thought.

“Ah— yes Bakugo?”

He doesn’t look at her, avoids eye contact at all costs, a reminder of this uncomfortable wall between them.

Her smile wavering at the thought.

“This shit broke.”

She’s about to ask what, but seems like he beat her to it, tossing the worn-out bracelet on her desk without another word.

Her heart stammers at its condition, picking up the homemade jewelry piece with disbelief, the colors now faded and dim, much like them.

“Oh, some of the bands broke here, that's why. Honestly I'm shocked it lasted this long…”

She nods along, assuming he’ll walk away back to his posse — a group she doesn’t belong in anymore.

Yet it seems like he has different plans.

“Give it.”

“Huh—”

He huffs.

Looking back at her face with mild annoyance — and a hint of something she quite can’t understand — his ruby red eyes boring into her own.

“You got me a damn present right? Well hand it over already.”

She’s visibly taken back, her cheeks warming up with embarrassment, was it that obvious? Did he notice her squirming throughout the day? The way she retreated to her seat multiple times?

A whirlwind of questions invaded her mind.

“How did you—”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not an idiot, ya’ moron, felt your gaze on me all damn day. Anyone ever told you about yur’ staring problem?”

He didn’t mention his lingering anticipation however, purposefully keeping to himself on how he waited all day for her to approach, eventually his string of patience snapping just like the bracelet.

Or maybe… just maybe… he broke it on purpose.

There was no doubt in his mind that she got him something. Their relationship, yet strained, would never completely fade. Why?

Because she’s the type to hold onto sentiments, and hell, perhaps he is too.

But he’d never admit it.

“O-oh… I didn’t realize, sorry.”

If she wasn’t embarrassed before, she certainly is now, the urge to crawl into a hole and die almost felt as if it was calling her name.

At her awkward silence, he begins tapping his foot impatiently, reminding her of the scenario at hand.

“Right! Sorry sorry—”

His jaw ticks.

“Stop apologizing and just hand it over! I ain’t got all day!”

“Eep! Okay!”

She’s quick to dig through her school bag, pulling out the nicely packaged assortment of chocolates, once again clearly homemade.

He could tell by the failed attempt of a bow against the plastic — bright orange with a hint of red — an uneven but otherwise pristine finish.

And with her natural clumsiness, it must’ve taken ages. She shyly hands it to him while mumbling a few words.

“I know you don’t like sweet stuff so I made sure to keep it dark and bitter… I hope you like them—”

He wastes no time to snatch it out of her hands.

Already preparing to leave the classroom as his followers rush to catch up. She can only sit there dumbfounded as his figure disappears in silence, oblivious to the commotion happening in the hallways.

His posse asking him to share, assuming he’ll throw the gift away like he did with the others, hungry gazes zeroing in on the delicious treat.

Yet only to be met with a harsh glare, sending shivers down their spines, caught off guard by his sudden hostility.

“Don’t even think about it, you extras.”

He instinctively holds the bag of sweets closer to his chest, leaving the others in his dust as he stomps away.

A rapid increase of emotions fueling his quickened pace as he examines the contents, specifically the note on the bag — along with girly doodles of hearts and a bunny — written in bright pink ink.

𓊈 ~ ⋆˙⟡♡ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ᴋᴀᴄᴄʜᴀɴ! ૮꒰˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა˚꩜⋆ ~ 𓊉

The blonde blinks. Twice.

Trying to ignore the way his heart dangerously leaped at her writing, silently undoing the ribbon to plop a chocolate in his mouth, slowly chewing the creamy snack, pupils dilating at the rich taste against his tongue.

He eats another, and another, and another.

Soon re-reading the note again, his gaze lingering on the drawings a little too long for his liking. Her handwriting is still the same as ever, damn childish, that if it were anyone else — they’d struggle to even understand it.

But not him, he knew her better than those who fall under the category of ‘anyone else’ — which should be everyone — because why the hell is that other guy trying to make you laugh?

“Tch, stupid, he doesn’t even know that y/n’s too damn dense for that, what a moron” is what he’d always say, glaring from afar whenever someone approached her.

The blonde could only smirk at the failed humorous attempts, y/n looking at their classmate with confusion, clearly not understanding their joke, “I’m sorry what?”

Only for her to easily laugh at something Katsuki yelled out in the classroom, phrases he didn’t even attempt to be funny, and the feeling shouldn’t make him so damn prideful.

That he knew her best.

So it was safe to say she was stunned the next morning, for a different reason though.

Y/N honestly thought she was hearing things, maybe her music was a bit too high, made her misunderstand what he said — what he mumbled, casually walking by her desk.

“....wasn’t bad.”

She freezes.

“huh—”

The girl could only watch him return to his seat, like he didn’t just drop a bomb out of nowhere, expressing how he actually enjoyed her homemade chocolates.

She goes to call out to him, wanting to search for more answers, but halts when she sees it.

The tips of his ears flushed in a dust pink, mirroring her own bashfulness at the realization, suddenly discouraging her will to chase him.

It was as if it took all his courage to say a mere two words.

Maybe it was then where she started realizing her own emotions, that she seeked his praise harder than anyone else, yearned for it even.

And he seemed to feel the same, the duo soon coming clean about this mutual feeling during their highschool days.

Soon spending his 17th birthday not as classmates or mere friends, but as a couple.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

He’s appalled at the unexpected appearance.

Today was supposed to be like any other day : wake up, go to school, come home and sleep — with the addition of spending the afternoon with her — but he certainly didn’t expect to see the girl so soon.

Yet there she was, roaming in his family's kitchen with a panicked expression, flour all over her apron and in the midst of attempting to clean the growing mess.

Her head perks up at the sound of his voice, a mix of visible relief and embarrassment on her face as they lock eyes.

Leaving y/n temporarily distracted from the stove as she greets him — which would soon be a recipe for disaster — the smell of something already burning, invading his nostrils.

“Oh Katsuki, good morning! You weren’t supposed to be awake so soon—”

At the sight of smoke behind her, he immediately rushes over, quickly lessening the distance between them.

“You dumbass! It’s burning!”

Her eyes widened, rapidly spinning back around and proceeding to fumble with the pan — her inexperience in the kitchen now evident.

“Ah—! The pancakes—”

He’s at her side in an instant.

“Tsk, damn it, be careful.”

The boy gently maneuvers her aside, swiftly taking the spatula to place the — poor attempt — of a breakfast on a nearby plate, cranking the heat all the way down to zero.

The both of them coughing with disgust at the lingering smell, the blonde opening a nearby window to bring in some fresh air, all while she avoids his grouchy look, though deemed unsuccessful a few seconds later.

He huffs.

“Explain. Now.”

She sighs, scratching the back of her head as she tries to process what the hell just happened.

Temporarily focusing on the burnt pancakes instead of his piercing gaze.

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed so I told your mom, she agreed and let me inside, left for work with your dad a while ago but....”

She awkwardly smiles.

“I uh— didn’t mean to burn the house down in the process though.”

“You can’t even make cup ramen, how the hell did you expect to make breakfast ya’ moron?!”

“I know I know! I just— well— I wanted to surprise you…?”

Regardless of his scolding look, he gave her form a quick once over, searching for any visible signs of injury.

And when he found none, physically relaxed, the previous tension now long gone and replaced with something warmer.

A feeling he tries to brush off with a grumble.

“Just— give me the damn thing, I’ll do it!”

She opens her mouth to fight back — intending to deny his assistance — but knowing better than to go against his wishes, shutting herself up when he gives her challenging eye contact.

Her gaze ever so softening as he immediately took over, limbs moving so perfectly around the kitchen, you’d honestly think he was studying to become a chef.

To those who know of him, it was pretty shocking that such a hot-tempered guy could turn out to be such a talented cook.

“...’m sorry.”

She mumbles — a hint of disappointment in her tone — deciding to lend a hand to clean up the mess, wiping down the counters with a clean rag.

He pauses to take a peek in her direction, dejection written all over her face.

The sight has him frowning instantly.

“Oi, c’mere.”

“Hm?”

With hesitant steps, she slowly approaches, only yelping in response when he reaches out to pinch her cheek.

“Kacchan! What was that… for…”

Her words waver at his lingering touch, slender fingers soothingly caressing her tender skin — face heating up underneath — breath wavering as she tries to find the words to speak.

It doesn’t help that his eyes are intensely staring into her own, as if trying to gauge her reaction.

“Next time, just wake me up ya’ hear? Don’t want you getting hurt because of yur’ clumsiness.”

She shyly smiles.

“Some birthday breakfast huh?”

He bites back a smirk, reluctantly moving away to remake the food, a perfectly well made stack of pancakes being set on the table a few minutes later.

Her eyes glistened with awe at the sight, mouth practically watering as she began to dig in, savoring the fluffy rich texture against her tongue.

The girl’s taste buds must be feeling pure bliss right about now.

“Katsuki, if anything, you could totally be a chef in the future!”

He hums.

“That so…”

She eagerly nods, inner excitement growing at the idea, the image of him in such a position makes her chest tighten with fondness.

“Mhm! I’ll be your number one customer!”

The idea of someone loving him so immensely, truly was incomprehensible — yet there she was — living proof that the impossible was somehow possible.

And the proof was y/n, a girl stuffing her face with his cooking, cheeks so full she honestly resembled a chipmunk.

But that was okay, because she was his girl.

He averts his gaze, a tad bit flustered, honestly wondering how the hell they ended up like this — how he got so damn lucky.

“Hmph, you idiot.”

She laughs.

A melody-like sound he never gets tired of hearing, only growing more attached to it day by day.

“Oh—! I should probably give you my gift now, since this first surprise was a total fail. Wait here!”

Before he could speak, she's on her feet, running off to fetch whatever she brought for him. It’s been years of him reminding her — reminding her that he has no need for such gifts — but she’s never listened.

Maybe that’s why he stays seated, calmly awaiting her return, a sense of longing in his stoic demeanor.

His eyes linger on her re-approaching figure — who’s busy carrying a nicely wrapped box — along with a smile that could rival the sun.

Secretly admiring her appearance as she speaks enthusiastically.

“This took me a while to find but I know you’ll love it!”

He raises a brow, slowly accepting the gift and already beginning to carefully unwrap it.

“Better be damn good then.”

She proudly smiles.

“Just don’t cry tears of joy yeah?”

“Hah? Who the hell do ya’ take me for—”

Y/N snickers, already knowing he’s about to eat his own words. Joy filling her eyes as he shoots up from his seat, eyes widened with disbelief as he rips the wrapping paper off with newfound purpose.

Resembling a child on christmas day as his voice turns shaky with a mixture of shock and pure bliss.

“Holy shit… is this…”

She smugly smiles.

“A limited edition all-might figurine? It sure is! It even has the actor Toshinori’s signature on it!”

He couldn’t believe it.

In bright orange sharpie — on the back of the box — lies pristine handwriting, no doubt of the famous actor, a small ‘ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ, ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ!’ written in bold letters just for him.

It was absolutely surreal.

“No fucking way— but how?!”

She bursts into a pile of giggles as he looks at her — the boy completely starstrucked — a sense of nostalgia overtaking her at the sight of him.

Standing before her wasn’t just a seventeen year old, but the reminisce of the little kid she knew a long time ago.

A boy she has fallen in love with.

“That’s a secret~”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Her eyes widening as he suddenly reaches out, pulling y/n into his chest, holding her tightly against him in a warm embrace.

So close that she could hear his rapid heartbeat, every shaky inhale and exhale, the subtle trembling of his muscles.

He’s happy... so so happy.

The realization made her softly smile, wrapping her arms around his back to melt into his warmth, relishing in this rare display of affection.

They stay like that for a while in comfortable silence, after all no words had to be said. Though there’s only one concern in her mind — how the hell is she gonna top this?

Lucky for y/n, she got that answer a few more years later, on his 20th birthday.

Bringing them back to the present, two college students exploring young adulthood — following new paths for the future — but thankfully having one another to make it through the journey.

One that has been progressing for over 15 years now… and is still in counting.

His eyes flutter open.

The feeling of something warm against his cheek — being nothing more than morning sunlight — jolting him out of a deep slumber.

Giving him the impression that it was her touch; physical affection that he has grown far too accustomed to.

So much so, that he lazily drapes his arm over the bed, expecting to pull her in, but only to be met with nothing other than cold sheets underneath.

Y/N’s presence, nowhere to be found, which was alarming — hence she’s never been the type of person to get out of bed before him.

Katsuki’s immediately on alert, already throwing on some clothes to search around their apartment, trying to fight against the grogginess that tries to pull him back in bed.

But halting when he sees her figure at the doorway, a birthday cake in her hands — purchased from a bakery they often visited — orange candles layered on top, already lit and ready for him.

A gentle smile on her face as she slowly approaches, humming the soft melody with a teasing gleam in her eyes.

His cheeks hue in a mix of pink and red, frankly feeling a bit flustered at the intimate setting.

He glares.

“Don’t you dare.”

She laughs.

“I won't bless you with my singing, relax, birthday boy. Just blow out the candles, yeah? But don’t forget to make a wish first~”

He looks at her with narrowed eyes.

“Hmph, this is stupid.”

“Awww c’mon, have a little birthday spirit!”

He sighs, knowing he can’t go against her stubborn nature, she’s been around him for too long — picked up a few of his traits along the way.

His gaze lingers on her face for a moment, internally thinking of a wish but unable to come up with anything, I mean… he already got his — the woman standing right there — no matter how cheesy that sounds.

She tilts her head with a cheeky smile.

“Have you thought of one yet?”

He doesn’t know whether it was the lighting of the candles, the warm ambience of the room, or her thoughtful actions but…

The blonde is suddenly hyper aware of every one of her features — traits she’s had since they were little — only now, have become more mature and beautiful with time.

And he didn’t know when it happened — like he blinked and spent all their adolescent years together in a flash.

If he could go back in time, maybe he’d tell his younger self to confess a little earlier, add another few years to their time as a couple.

Nonetheless, he’s content where they are now.

“Guess so.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, an idea randomly popping into his head, one that makes him feel something inside.

Then slowly blowing out the candles with a huff.

Choosing to ignore her numerous questions about his mysterious wish, and deciding to set the cake elsewhere as they walk out to the main room — where their kitchen, dining and living room reside.

His eyes widened at the familiar space but now decorated in a mix of tinsel, balloons and party streamers.

“You told me that Kirishima and the other guys are coming over later today, so I decided to decorate for the occasion!”

Ah so that’s why she was up early.

“Tch, feeling festive huh?”

She grins, clearly proud of herself.

On the table lies a warm cooked breakfast — thankfully improving from last time as it looks actually edible — along with a basket full of smaller gifts; like his favorite snacks, chocolates and a few extra goodies.

His eyes softened at her efforts — like all the other birthdays before.

“You didn’t have too, nerd.”

Y/N smiles.

“I wanted to, and well— I actually have a present that can’t wait to be opened, one second, wait here!”

She scurries off to fetch the gift, his brows furrowing as he tries to decipher what she meant, but waiting patiently for her return.

His eyes subtly admire the little details of the decor, all in his favorite colors, even the beautifully frosted cake with little hearts scattered on the sides.

Light frosting, not too sweet, just how he likes it.

And of course, she still hasn’t gotten the hang of tying a bow — the orange ribbon messily clumped together on the basket — a quirky reminder that she made this.

He’s still unused to this feeling, but her efforts were never in vain, only making him fall harder for her every damn day.

If even possible.

A few seconds later, soft footsteps were heard, breaking him out of those cheesy thoughts.

Completely baffled to see her return with something in her arms, an object he never would’ve expected; a giant golden egg — yes that’s right — a plastic hollow container surely with something inside.

Unable to hold back at the comical scene, the blonde chuckles, the size comparison was just too stupid to not laugh at, even for him.

“The hell? Where the fuck did you even get that? Shits bigger than your head!”

She laughs along.

“Don’t ask. Just open it! But be really careful because it’s fragile.”

He raises a suspicious brow but nods. Carefully taking the egg and twisting the cap open to look inside.

She anxiously fiddles with her fingers from the sidelines, the girl definitely took a gamble with the present this year, he’ll either completely love it or hate it.

Y/N is a complete bundle of nerves, through and through, while the blonde didn’t even know what to expect; it’s always a surprise with her every year.

But this one seems to take the cake.

His pupils dilate at its contents, having to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, his mouth growing dry from mere shock.

“Is this— you—”

Katsuki Bakugo was actually speechless.

At first, he thought it was fake — maybe it was just a little prank — a late April fools joke perhaps? A mere stuffed animal?

But his muscles tensed as the white ball of fluff poked its head up, long fuzzy ears straightening up with curiosity at the new surroundings, sniffing the air as its whiskers wiggled in the air.

It’s beady eyes looking around the room and then at the couple.

The sight was honestly adorable.

And it doesn’t help that y/n dressed it up in an all might onesie, a similar version to the one Katsuki consistently wore when he was a child, only this time, it being put on a pet.

His pet.

She nervously smiles.

“I… I thought you could use a little friend and well— your birthday landed on Easter this year so… it just seemed perfect to me.”

He’s silent, expression completely unreadable as his gaze solely remains focused on the little life in his arms.

It only has her heart racing with nerves, unsure if he’d approve of this new addition to the household.

She’s seen his recent boredom whenever he’d return from his classes, seen how gentle he is with animals walking down the street, but to her, he doesn’t seem to be a dog or even a cat person.

So maybe…

“Do you like it…? If not we can—”

Her eyes widened as the bunny suddenly hops out of its container, her arms instinctively reaching out to break its fall — but Katsuki is faster.

Dropping the plastic egg to swiftly catch the white critter, cradling it in his arms with a shocking display of gentleness, like he’s scared to hurt it with his strength.

The fluffy creature sniffs around, as if trying to familiarize itself with him, and almost like magic, nuzzling against his chest — attempting to soak in Katsuki’s natural scent.

Y/N could only watch from a few steps away, in complete awe at the instant connection.

While the blonde is left completely baffled, the bunny continuing to cling to him, despite Katsuki trying to pry it away.

“O-Oi— you damn furball—”

Her gaze softens.

The blonde, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, is flushing bright red at the new loving companion.

His sharp eyes now melted by the presence of something more delicate and small — her own heart aching at the sight — a side of him she rarely gets to see.

He holds it closer, his hand soothingly rubbing its pointed ears, a soft texture felt beneath his fingertips.

A tender smile forms on his face as the bunny twitches with content, leaning in for more touches.

Y/N visibly relaxes, seems she got her answer after all, beyond happy at the result.

“I’ll get them a snack, they must be hungry!”

She’s about to go fetch the mini carrots she purchased earlier, but halts as she feels his hand around her wrist.

“Y/N.”

She looks at him with curiosity.

“Hm? What is it— mph—”

The woman didn’t have time to register what was happening until she felt his lips against hers.

Her eyes immediately fluttering close as the gap is now nonexistent, the both of them moving their lips in unison as they share a soft kiss, not lust-filled whatsoever but of pure affection and yearning.

A variety of hidden messages behind his movements, that it takes her breath away, even when he pulls away a few seconds later.

Both of them left a bit breathless.

His crimson gaze meets her own, with sincerity and rare vulnerable emotions, each of their pounding heartbeats rivaling against one another.

“Thank you.”

She smiles.

Unable to resist, and proceeding to stand on her tippy toes to give his cheek a light peek, mumbling heartfelt words.

“Mhm, happy birthday katsuki.”

It was a peaceful silence, both of them understanding how each other felt through mere eye contact and soft touches.

What they didn’t expect was the bunny mimicking her actions, hopping up to nibble against the blonde's cheek.

Y/N playfully scoffs, competitively eyeing the animal down, feeling a bit threatened by this creature's boldness.

“Oh hell no, it's on, cotton ball!”

Katsuki could only hold back laughter at the ticklish feeling, his cheeks growing red with embarrassment and hidden amusement.

“Get off me you idiots!”

Y/N doesn’t relent, continuing her kissing spree on one side of his face, while the bunny nibbles on the other, both trying to win the heart of a certain grumpy man.

The three of them soon tumbling down onto the soft carpet below, both teams clearly taking this challenge seriously, while the man protested to every second of it.

It’s safe to say y/n won — only because she bribed her opponent with a carrot — but nonetheless, the victor of the match.

Or maybe the victor was the man on the floor, all red faced and filled with kiss marks, a secretly entertained smile on his face as they moved to eat breakfast.

The mornings after only being filled with newfound joy and laughter.

Now, he not only has y/n fussing over him, but a bunny too, though he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because, his earlier birthday wish?

To continue spending the rest of his life with her.

Because at first they were childhood friends, then teenagers who yearned like lovers, and now adults who can freely love one another.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

ᴀ/ɴ ||| holy shit, second longest fic i ever wrote? i rlly hope u guys enjoyed this one, this took way too long to write ngl, i hope this is a original idea bc my brain genuinely fried trying think of this fic idea (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin @sunnyalmighty — ໒꒰ྀི ´๑ ̫๑` ꒱ྀིა

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nnnaaahhhiiiaaa · 3 months ago

Text

Secret Admirer Pt.1 - choi seung-hyun

Summary | You have a secret admirer, and you don't know it's the most troubled but richest boy in school, Choi Seung-hyun.

Pairing | Bully! Choi Seung-hyun x Fem! Reader.

Genre | 2000s school era.

Warnings | Fluff, romantic.

Author's note | English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

Saying you were nervous was an understatement.

You could feel the heat rising to the tips of your ears, and you were sure that if anyone saw you, they would notice how red you were. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, and in a desperate attempt to calm yourself, you began fanning your face with your hands. But it was useless.

Ever since you found that letter with no sender, your whole world had been reduced to a single thought: Who left it?

It had all started with an envelope carefully placed in your locker. Alongside it, a small yet elegant box of chocolates and, to your surprise, a pendant that seemed far too luxurious to be just a simple gift. Diamonds? You didn’t even want to imagine how much it could cost.

The curious thing was that, although those gifts were striking, they weren’t what truly occupied your mind. It was the letter. The words written inside carried a different weight, an echo in your heart that refused to fade.

"For you,

I don’t know how to write this. I’m not good with words, but there’s something about you that won’t leave me alone.

Every time I see you, my mind goes blank, and my heart does things I don’t understand. I wish I could tell you everything I admire about you, every little detail, but I can’t seem to find the right way.

I don’t expect anything with this letter—I just wanted you to know.

—Someone who admires you more than you imagine."

It wasn’t a passionate declaration, nor was it overflowing with cliché romance, but there was something about it that made you feel a whirlwind in your chest. Not just the words, but the fact that someone, somewhere, had taken the time to write them for you.

And now, here you were, your mind spinning in circles, distracted, unable to focus on what you really should be doing—your homework for tomorrow.

When the bell rang, marking the end of classes, you sighed in relief. You had spent the entire day lost in thought, barely paying attention to the lessons. Now, at least, you could go home and focus on your assignments.

As you walked through the crowded hallways, you tried to shake off the anxiety pressing on your chest. It was just a letter. A simple gesture. Nothing more. But no matter how much you tried to downplay it, the uncertainty was eating you up inside.

Before leaving, you made a necessary stop at the lockers. You had to grab your shoes, change them, and finally head home. However, as you opened the metal door, your heart skipped a beat.

There, among your things, rested another envelope.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up. The paper was the same ivory tone as the previous one, and the subtle scent of fresh ink told you it hadn’t been there long. You swallowed hard.

Should you open it right there, in the middle of the crowded hallway? Or wait until you got home?

Curiosity won. With slightly clumsy hands, you slid your finger along the edge of the envelope and carefully unfolded the letter inside.

"For you, always for you,

I hadn’t planned on writing again, but my heart has betrayed me once more. Or perhaps it was never a betrayal, just the truth I’m too afraid to say out loud.

I don’t know how you do it, but every day, I find something new in you that takes my breath away. A gesture, a smile, a fleeting glance… and suddenly, the whole world feels a little less gray.

If you ever wonder if someone thinks about you more than they should, if you ever question whether you inspire someone without knowing it… the answer is yes.

—Someone who has surrendered to you."

You felt like the air had been knocked out of your lungs.

This wasn’t just some random message left on a whim.

This person… was watching you.

And now, it was up to you to decide what to do about it.

The next day, you were late to class.

Why? The answer was simple: you had spent the entire night thinking about the second letter, going over every word, imagining all the possibilities. Who could it be? Why had they chosen to write to you?

You tried to find clues. You analyzed the handwriting, searching for a distinctive trait. You sniffed the paper, hoping to recognize a particular scent. You examined every stroke, every curve of the letters, hoping to uncover something that would give your mysterious admirer away.

But there was nothing. No clue, no hint—just a carefully written message that left you with more questions than answers.

Still, you weren’t going to give up. Not now. You just… had to postpone your investigation for a little while because there was a much bigger problem to deal with.

Choi Seung-hyun.

The bastard.

That spoiled brat who seemed to have been born with the sole mission of making your life miserable.

Seung-hyun and his little group of friends—four guys in total, including that insufferable leader—found great amusement at your expense, teasing you whenever they got the chance. It didn’t matter if you were in class, in the hallways, or even during break; they always found a way to bother you.

And today, after barely sleeping a couple of hours and with your nerves wrecked because of the letter, you were in no mood to deal with their nonsense.

"Well, look who’s here," one of the guys’ mocking voice broke the classroom’s silence, followed by the chuckles of his group. It was the one with straight hair—the most annoying of them all after his leader. "Still studying for something you’re never going to achieve?"

You rolled your eyes in exasperation, not even bothering to look at him.

"And I see you’re still as insufferable as ever," you replied calmly, giving him a brief glance before returning to your exercises. It wasn’t worth wasting time on his stupidity.

But, as expected, they didn’t give up so easily.

Seung-hyun, who had remained silent until then, was watching you with a mix of expectation and barely disguised nervousness. His friends glanced at him, waiting for him to say or do something. Come on, man, this is your chance.

They knew the truth. They knew he was the one who had been sending you the letters. That, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind his arrogant attitude and constant teasing, he was completely in love with you. And even though they had tried to convince him to confess, his pride and enormous ego always got in the way.

Now, however, it was different. They had planned something—he was supposed to throw in a clever remark, something that hinted at the truth without exposing himself too much. But the moment he opened his mouth, everything they had rehearsed vanished from his mind.

"I…" he stammered.

A murmur of surprise rippled through the classroom. They had never seen him hesitate before

Intrigued, you lifted your gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes…?"

Shit.

His heart was racing. He needed to say something—anything—before making a complete fool of himself. So, without thinking too much, he improvised.

"W-wouldn’t it be better to marry a millionaire instead of studying all that?" he blurted out, looking away as if feigning disinterest. "I mean, with a rich guy, you’d get things for free. It’s better than studying just to end up in a mediocre job."

Dead silence.

One of his friends covered his face with a hand, another muttered, "God, this is a disaster," and the rest simply watched in resignation. He had screwed up.

You, on the other hand, let out a dry laugh, unable to believe the nonsense you had just heard.

"Marry a millionaire?" you repeated mockingly. "Like who?"

And then, he cut you off before you could even finish.

"Me."

The classroom fell into such an intense silence that even the ticking of the clock on the wall became noticeable.

Had he just said… himself?

You stared at him, blinking a couple of times, trying to process what he had just blurted out. His friends, on the other hand, were on the verge of burying themselves alive at that very moment. Did he really just confess like that?

Seung-hyun, for his part, stood completely still. His own brain was also trying to understand why the hell he had said that. It wasn’t what he had planned, not even close to what he had in mind. But it was already said. There was no turning back.

You narrowed your eyes.

"Wait… are you telling me you’d be that millionaire?"

Seung-hyun cleared his throat, regaining some composure. He wasn’t backing down now.

"I’m just saying that... it wouldn’t be bad. I mean, I’m attractive, I’ve got money, and you wouldn’t have to worry about boring stuff like studying."

It was incredible how his tongue could betray him like that. That wasn’t what he meant to say. He didn’t want to sound like an arrogant idiot (although, honestly, he did so effortlessly).

The whole class was watching the scene closely. Some were trying to hold back laughter, others were waiting to see how you’d respond.

And you, instead of getting upset, just let out a dry laugh.

"My God, how egocentric."

Seung-hyun felt his dignity crumbling in real-time.

"Hey, I’m just saying it’s a good option."

"For you." You cut him off, crossing your arms. "But I’m sorry to inform you that I’m not the type to be dazzled by money. I’d rather earn my things through effort, not have them handed to me."

His friends didn’t even know how to react. One of them even muttered:

"This is worse than we imagined."

Seung-hyun pressed his lips together. He couldn’t lose like this. He had to regain control.

"What I meant is… there are easier ways to live."

"Sure, and marrying you would be one of them, right?" You rolled your eyes. "What’s next? Are you going to start leaving anonymous letters in my locker to impress me?"

And then, Seung-hyun’s expression changed.

It was subtle. A slight blink, a tension in his jaw, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

And you knew then.

You knew even before he tried to respond with another of his usual excuses.

Seung-hyun was the one sending you the letters…

The silence fell over the class again. This time, it was denser, more uncomfortable.

Seung-hyun stared at you, and though he tried to hide it, the slight hardening of his expression, the way his lips tightened for a second, gave him away.

You didn’t need him to answer out loud. You already knew.

"Oh…" You murmured, lowering your voice slightly. You felt the air leave your lungs for a moment.

Some of his friends shifted in their seats, exchanging glances, as if they were witnessing an accident about to happen. This wasn’t what they had planned.

Seung-hyun, for his part, blinked several times. His mind was racing, looking for an escape. But there was none.

He had two options:

1. Deny everything and act like it was an absurd idea.

2. Admit it.

A part of him wanted to laugh dismissively and say, "You think? Don’t dream so much." But... he couldn’t. Because it was true.

He had written those letters to you.

He had spent entire nights thinking about what to say, fighting against his own pride to put into words what he felt for you. And now, it had all gotten out of hand.

Finally, he let out a small laugh, though it sounded a bit forced.

"What are you talking about? Me? Please, don’t say nonsense."

But the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him.

"No?" You crossed your arms, looking at him suspiciously. "Then tell me… if it wasn’t you, why did you make that face when I mentioned it?"

Seung-hyun diverted his gaze for a second. His friends covered their faces with their hands.

"It was your imagination."

"Sure?" You took a step closer, leaning slightly toward him.

Seung-hyun swallowed.

This wasn’t going the way he had planned.

"Listen, I don’t know what you imagine, but…" He paused, trying to compose himself. "If someone like me were interested in someone like you, you’d know."

Oh, wow. Now he was counterattacking.

"Oh, really?" You raised an eyebrow, pretending indifference. "Well, that’s too bad. Because the sender of those letters seemed a lot more sincere than arrogant Seung-hyun."

That came out naturally. And it was a clean hit.

His friends reacted with a muffled "Ooooh."

He, on the other hand, just stared at you, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.

But before he could respond, the teacher entered the classroom.

"Alright, alright, enough with the conversations. Take your seats."

And just like that, you walked away from him, leaving him in a state of total confusion.

Seung-hyun barely heard what the teacher said. He could only think of one thing.

You had said that the sender of the letters seemed sincere.

That meant that...

Did you like his words?

#choi seung hyun x reader #thanos x reader #t.o.p bigbang #t.o.p x reader #bigbang #bigbang x reader #bigbang top #bigbang fanfic #fanfic #choi seunghyun #choi seung hyun #2000s #2000s emo #bigbang choi seunghyun #kpop #kpop bigbang #squid game x fem!reader #top x reader

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rimatsu · 5 months ago

Text

alcoholic hallucinosis

bucktommy, m, 2k words. read on ao3 Alcohol has dulled his sense and alertness enough that alarm bells don't immediately go off when the camera tilts back to reveal a wider shot of Buck's wooden headboard. It's only when the video shakes and refocuses on a familiar head of chestnut curls that Eddie begins to regret every life decision that brought him to this particular moment. (In which Eddie receives an unsolicited, accidental sex tape.)

Eddie is 12 hours into a 48 off when his phone pings with a new text notification.

Outside, the blue haze of daylight has lifted to reveal the moon. He's been languishing on the couch with a drink and bad TV as his sole company for longer than initially planned. There's a tiny gulp of amber liquid left at the bottom of his Glencairn glass where grains of charred wood have started to sediment. It's the barrel-proof stuff, casket-aged and bold and explosively flavorful, pricy and usually reserved for special occasions.

Eddie isn't the type to indulge for no reason, but he figures he deserves a treat after dealing with Gerrard's machiavellian schemes at work and withering familial radio-silence courtesy of his son. The text he's sent this morning — three whole paragraphs detailing his week and asking about Christopher's new friends and the robotics club he's joined — had only garnered a thumb-up in response

So it's 9:48pm and Eddie is 2 fingers away from buzzed, and he's watching fictional characters make mistakes more disastrous than his own stupid blunders with a pleasant fog cushioning his thoughts, eyelids heavy and guards down, and naturally that’s when Buck decides to send a cryptic video his way.

Eddie is used to receiving pictures and random factoids and links to obscure forums whenever Buck descends into one of his manic research deep dives, but they usually come with some key context. The newest addition to their chat log is a lone clip, with no caption or introduction or explanatory details. It's about 12 minutes long and the preview thumbnail is mostly indecipherable: brown, blurry with motion and too close to the lens for identification.

Against his better judgement, Eddie shrugs, mutes the TV and taps play on the video file.

Alcohol has dulled his sense and alertness enough that alarm bells don't immediately go off when the camera tilts back to reveal a wider shot of Buck's wooden headboard. It's only when the video shakes and refocuses on a familiar head of chestnut curls that Eddie begins to regret every life decision that brought him to this particular moment. His eyes bug out as he tries to compute what he's seeing unfold in rapid increments, something like dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

On his screen and in his hand and in HD resolution, Buck’s right cheek is smashed into a pillow, face sweaty and so red his birthmark no longer stands out against the backdrop of his skin. His mouth is an open wound gasping for air, and there are thick-knuckled fingers twisted in his hair, keeping him down. His brows are furrowed like he's in agony, except that's not pain twisting his features; it's not the expression that haunts Eddie from a half-dozen near tragedies and hospital visits — no, that's a face crumpled in uncomplicated pleasure.

“Arch up, sweetheart,” comes out of the tiny speakers, and that's Tommy's voice, laced with something unrecognizable, low and warm and whiskey-soaked like the scotch Eddie has been sipping all evening; loud because he’s holding the phone this was filmed on, because that's his hand cradling the back of Buck’s skull, big and proprietary and unrelenting. “Give me something nice to look at.”

Eddie's entire central nervous system shuts down after hearing that request, and he’s left gaping at his screen, stunned stupid, staring unblinkingly and in morbid fascination the way passerbys might gawk at a car crash, awful but ultimately fascinating.

Distantly, Eddie wonders if he’s perhaps experiencing some acute form of alcoholic hallucinosis.

Now, he’s borne witness to his fair share of disturbing sights throughout the years — viscera and gore, absurd accidents and gruesome deaths. With two military tours under his belt, he’s developed quite the steel core; Eddie knows how to push past shock to go through necessary motions. Still, no amount of training and field experience could've prepared him for this, because in the next second the video frame shifts again, pans down Buck’s neck and the broad expense of his back and along the sine wave of his spine—

And yep. That's definitely a POV shot of Eddie’s best friend taking it up the ass.

When his synapses start firing again a heartbeat later, horror cuts through the petrified and intoxicated daze clouding Eddie’s brain like a punch to the sternum, sudden and sobering.

“Oh my God!” he screams, shrill and panicked and undignified, and then does the instinctual thing, which is to toss his phone across the room like it's contaminated by the bubonic plague.

It lands facedown near the TV console with a loud thud. Unfortunately, the distance does nothing to muffle the telltale, slick and rhythmic noises of skin-on-skin or the pornographic grunts of masculine pleasure coming out of the loudspeakers, resonating against the walls of his too quiet house.

Eddie stares at the mobile device like it’s radioactive, the tip of his ears burning hot in embarrassment and delayed indignation.

What kind of sick fucking joke is this?

Badly-lit, homemade, amateur porn. Of the gay variety. Starring Buck and his boyfriend — his two closest companions these days. That's what Buck shared with him tonight for some depraved, incomprehensible reason. Because he's apparently a lunatic with no understanding of the concept of privacy or boundaries or socially acceptable behavior. Either that or Buck is experiencing a stroke, or being hacked, or this is his way of letting Eddie know he’s been kidnapped, or maybe it’s all a huge mistake they’ll maybe laugh at ten years from now when Eddie can remember this moment without wanting to gouge his eyes out of their sockets.

Eddie presses the heels of his palms into his lids until stars replace the afterimage seared onto his retina, and then prays for deliverance from this wretched, godless existence.

"Daddy," he hears, rough and saliva-garbled and pleading, and nope.

No.

Absolutely not.

Eddie scrambles for his phone so he can put a stop to the auditory torture. Since his life is a joke, the jump over the coffee table he attempts in his haste proves to be too perilous for his tipsy, uncoordinated limbs. His toes get caught in the folds of his area rug and he ends up a screeching, scandalized heap on the floor.

"Ow!" Eddie yelps, a few feet from his phone that is still taunting him with moans.

Once he finally manages to press the side button, Eddie collapses back on the ground, hands shaking with residual adrenaline. His screen is cracked and his knees are throbbing from the force of his fall, but silence sounds so blissful Eddie can barely find it in himself to be irritated.

He flips on his back and stares at the ceiling, suddenly exhausted.

Maybe Eddie is the problem. Maybe he’s an enabler who invited his own misfortune.

Buck has always been prone to over-sharing, but there had been a time early in his relationship with Tommy when he had acted unusually tight-lipped. In the spirit of unconditional support, Eddie had reiterated that nothing had to change between them — that Buck didn’t need to censor himself just because he was seeing a man.

(“So you want the details?” Buck had asked, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Eddie had made an unimpressed face in answer. “I never want the details, but it’s not like that ever stopped you before.”

“Your funeral,” Buck had said with a grin and a shrug, and then spent the next few minutes recounting the epic tale of his ‘tumultuous journey to rid himself of his gag reflex’. Eddie had listened in a mostly dissociative state, doing his best not to wince at the very descriptive portrait painted before his eyes until he’d realized Buck was messing with him by testing the limits of his tolerance.)

That had been only fair, since Buck is the type to readily lend an ear for ex-nun girlfriend troubles — and with minimal judgment to boot — but now Eddie is starting to regret the gesture. Maybe Buck had heard ‘you don’t have to keep it PG for my sake, I'm totally down with the queers’ and understood ‘if you ever need constructive criticism on the angles of your sextape, I’m your guy!’

Eddie briefly entertains the idea of sending Buck a vindictive voice message demanding he explains himself, maybe even relay the various ways he wants to throttle Buck for his crassness and his exhibitionist tendencies and his wild disregard for the sacred bonds of pseudo-brotherhood, but he still feels off-balance, and in the end Eddie chooses to resort to a less confrontational coping mechanism: drinking the trauma away.

He ignores the abandoned glass sitting on his side table to take long gulps of whiskey straight from the bottle instead. It's not the kind of liquor made to be chugged down, and the alcohol burns his throat all the way down his stomach, but he welcomes the flame, grateful for the physical distraction.

He’s working himself into an inebriated stupor when his phone starts vibrating like a hummingbird's wings, pinging madly with texts after texts.

When he unlocks the mobile with the apprehension of a soldier stepping into a minefield, it’s to find 42 new messages from Buck.

Eddie takes another fortifying swig of booze and opens iMessage.

The first ten text bubbles are strictly comprised of delirious keysmashing, confirming the inadvertent mistake hypothesis. That’s a relief: Buck hasn’t temporarily lost his mind to jealousy again and didn’t try to mark his territory because Tommy had taken Eddie to a WBC championship last week. Thank God for small mercies.

Eddie scrolls past them to read the more coherent ones.

OH FUCKKKKKK

ASFHJBCAVKJVCHK

NONONONONOOO

THIS CANT BE HAPPENING

THIS IS LIKE EVERYONES WORST NIGHTMARE

EDDIE

EDMUNDO MIDDLE NAME DIAZ

DO NOT

I REPEAT DO NOT WATCH THE BIDEO

IT WASNT MEANT GOR YOU

IT WAS A MISTAKE!!!!!!

NOT ON PURPOSE

SERIOUSLY DONT OPEN THE VIDEO

it will hurt your fragile relapsed catholic sensibilities and send you into cardiac arrest

IT WAS MEANT FOR TOMMY AND NOT FOR UR PRUDISH EYES

SERIOUSLY SCROLL PAST

SPARE US BOTH THE HUMILIATION I BEG OF YOU

you were the last contact i texted

my big fat thumb must've slipped

shittt the read receipt

welp it's so over...

ig that's done and over with

sorry

when you're done pouring bleach over your eyes

let me know you're still alive so i can sleep at night with a clear conscience knowing you didn't lobotomize yourself or something

again I'M SORRY

A HONEST MISTAKE that's surely mortifying for the both of us but mostly ME

please tell me i didn't irreparably damage our friendship

just so you know tommy’s been laughing for the past 10 minutes. i’m glad SOMEONE is enjoying this shitshow

You owe me an emergency therapy session with Frank

And a screen repair

did you freak out and break your phone

I threw it at the wall

ok drama queen 😂

No. There's nothing funny or dramatic about it

I'm not gonna be able to look you in the face for the foreseeable future

I'll have to ask Gerrard for a transfer

Ravi says the B-shift is very welcoming

Maybe I'll find a new buddy there. One that doesn't send me his nudes unprompted

Hell maybe I should move back to El Paso

This could be a sign from the universe to take matter into my own hands instead of waiting idly for Christopher's forgiveness

you don't believe in signs

Maybe I do now

Maybe your little fuck up was the catalyst needed for change

c'mon man

play it cool

if you get embarrassed then i'll get embarrassed

and if we're both embarrassed then who's flying the plane

Your apologies suck balls

just like me

What the hell Buck

WAY TOO SOON

sorry

shame is an emotion i refuse to feel so i’m just owning it now

ok can we just agree to forget this ever happened

and maybe delete the vid from your cloud

Yeah ok

Way ahead of you

My phone has already been scrubbed clean

Do me a favor and check twice the next time you send Tommy a dick pic

dw lesson learned

so.......

did you watch the full thing or

be honest

it’s okay if you did you can still be straight

Scratch that

Consider our friendship irreparably damaged NOW

I’m blocking you

EDDIE NO

I WAS JOKING TO DIFFUSE THE TENSION

EDDIE!!!!!

#i can't be bothered with editing fake texts my sincerest apologies #silly outsider pov my beloved <33 #considering writing the series: the Incredible Adventures of Third Wheel Eddie #bucktommy #fic #rima.txt

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marisolls · 5 months ago

Text

tender is the hand.

your hands have a strange clarity, have you been walking among the stars?

dulce maría loynaz, tr. james o’ connor, from absolute solitude: selected poems

cw. angst no happy ending. 1.4k wc. less dialogues.

with you, or rather, through you, tsukishima kei understands how important the hands could be.

before anything else, he takes care of his own. one that’s littered in dried or broken skin, visible scars, rougher palms and long, callous fingers. has the purpose to block to secure his win, with tight, determined fists. and this is how he’s known that to find meaning, doesn’t necessarily have to be rational.

sometimes, the passion comes in the form of a child still believing stars can fall from the sky, or in each night one can pluck the moon and let it glow on the ceiling before they sleep. sometimes, you find love in the most mundane, and incomprehensible ways.

from simpler things like, patting yamaguchi through his anxiety, writing with his penmanship you always ogle in awe—it’s so pretty and neat, you’d mumble under your breath—as well as helping his mother through the kitchen even though he finds them tedious (he can’t admit that he sucks). where the first was to offer support to a friend, the other a basic skill taught since three, and the last his responsibility as a younger sibling. they’re all incredibly common, something that he perhaps could never in his lifetime wonder; who would even notice these things?

the answer arrives at eighteen and he’s holding your hand for the first time on new year’s eve, where there are fireworks in the making inside his melting ribcage, where your palms are pressed warm and— fuck, why are you so soft?

suddenly it becomes so apparent in the face of something new that there’s so much more he can do with the hands, so much more he can learn because of you.

with you, they become something else entirely. in brushing your hair out of your face when you doze off on the couch. in rubbing slow, absentminded circles on your back when you lean against him after a long day. in discerning and memorizing by heart the way you like your drink. adjusting the way he kneads dough when you try baking together. in picking up the softest, warmest gloves for you when winter rolls around.

he used to think that strength was only in how firm his grip was, in how tightly he could hold onto things he’s afraid to lose just to keep it from slipping. but oh, with you, he learns that strength is sometimes weaved in your name, in the feeling of your pulse on your wrist against his thumb when you pass him his glasses, hands lingering on the taste of your tangible presence, in the way he turns goo for no reason other than you call him kei so intimately, in the way he loves without restraint, without any fear of losing.

that the most meaningful victories aren’t about blocking something out—but about letting something in.

at nineteen, and then twenty. he commits himself and permits his hands to become instruments of care, of love. they wipe away stray tears, thread through your hair, adjust the blanket over your shoulders when you’re sick. or when you threaten him to wake you up after 30 minutes to continue your studying, only to grace you a forehead kiss and leave you snoring soundly.

at twenty-one, he almost forgets what life was like before you.

it’s second nature now, the way his hands search for yours, the way he instinctively reaches out—to fix your scarf, brush an eyelash off your cheek, squeeze your fingers when you mumble about a long day. his hands soften overtime, you comment, even though he's still playing volleyball and his skin still bleeds and he's still so humanly and awkwardly tender. you say, as if forever is a thing that exists with you, that he'll always remain soft in your heart.

he wonders when exactly he decided he would marry you. maybe it was the first time you said that to him on a random tuesday, or the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder, or when you sat on the floor with him after a rough game, your shoes and his shoes and all the stuff in your apartment haphazardly thrown everywhere, too tired to clean up tonight, linking your pinkies together in quiet communication. i’m proud of you through and through. i root for you. i love you.

maybe it was always meant to be you.

the ring is in his pocket. has been for months.

but there’s time.

(there’s always time.)

until there wasn’t.

life doesn’t pause for him to find the confidence to be ready—dreaming is nothing compared to having the will to chase it. and he dreams of a life with you, had a future laid out, tucked away in the lines of his palm as if it will preserve you too, he dreams so much that he takes time for granted, and time has come to bite him next.

because a week later, he was kneeling on cold hospital tiles, hands gripping onto yours, desperate, trembling. he wasn’t sure what he was praying to—science, fate, some cruel god—but he was praying, because your fingers were limp in his, and this wasn’t supposed to happen, not now.

he didn’t even notice anything at first. you’re so you—still laughing, still teasing, still fitting against his side like you were meant to be there. but the signs are there. a cough that lingers too long. the way you press your fingers into your temples as if trying to will away the exhaustion. the quiet, tired smiles.

and then there’s your hands.

the ones that have always known him. the ones that traced over his knuckles absentmindedly, the ones that fit so easily in his own. they’re colder now. thinner. your grip not as strong as before.

something in him starts to panic. but you smile, and you kiss the inside of his wrist, and you tell him,

don’t look at me like that, kei.

but how could he not?

when the hospital visits start, it becomes real. and kei, at twenty-one, who is committed to love you and have your tomorrows and maybe forever and hopefully forever, realizes that nothing he does can stop what’s coming. he can hold you. he can lace his fingers through yours. he can press his hand against your back as you sit through test after test, but he can’t fix this.

he asks you anyway.

because if there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that you are the only person who has ever made him want more. more than just the court, more than just winning, more than just the quiet loneliness he once thought was enough.

he asks. maybe he does it in the hospital room, voice quiet and firm, surprisingly calm despite the quiver of his lips and his dry mouth and tight chest, and cold, shivering fingers. trying to pretend like things are normal. maybe he doesn’t even get the words out, just slides the ring onto your finger with the softest touch and watches the way your eyes widen.

and you smile.

and you kiss him.

and you say yes.

and for a little while, he lets himself believe in forever. in your existence where forever is a thing. in your eyes that held him captive since the fireworks burst his chest. since he was eighteen and navigating how love can be both easy and not.

you grow weaker. your hands—your hands, the ones that have always reached for him, always held him steady—can barely grasp his own anymore. because there are nights when he watches you sleep, watches your chest rise and fall, and prays to a god he doesn’t even believe in to let you stay a little longer.

he wakes up to god’s answer that forever is cruel.

just like that.

and tsukishima kei, who has always known the weight of losing, has never felt anything like this. because no loss on the court, no failed block, no missed point, nothing could ever compare to the unbearable emptiness of his hands without yours in them.

and the ring. the ring is still on your finger. maybe it’s selfish, but he doesn’t take it off. he lets them. because you said yes. because with you, he learns that he doesn’t have to clench his fist to keep something that’s already his.

he does tighten his grip at some point, through the pool of tears, as if holding on hard enough might somehow bring you back.

the last thing tsukishima kei learns from you is the unbearable, stabbing beauty of hands. they hold things. and they let things go.

pls don’t kill me i’ll write a happier version of this 🥹 if u wish

#[✦]. solvia’s #— ⟢ waning gibbous.#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #tsukishima kei x you #tsukishima kei angst

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