#it’s the first time he’s really left to be the responsible one and he’s not bad at it but he’s so out of depths

[itadorey]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒— bakugo katsuki

pairing: pro hero bakugo katsuki x gn reader summary: when aizawa calls and asks for a personal favor, bakugo is ready to expect the worst. genre: strangers to lovers, fluff word count: ~7k warnings: mentions of stalking, nothing happens, you take care of it notes: sorry if he's ooc, take this more as a character study. just a little test to see how i feel when writing for bakugo. description of quirk left super vague, literally just a mention of it being helpful. not proofread sorry ummm rushed too

When Bakugo Katsuki gets a call from Aizawa, he doesn't know what to expect.

There's a brief moment of silence when the call connects, and Bakugo feels himself tense slightly when Aizawa does not speak immediately. He's the first to give in, gruffly greeting his former teacher and being met with nothing but a sigh in return.

"Bakugo," Aizawa starts, his tone dull and tired. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but i need you to do me a personal favor."

Another moment of silence ensues as Bakugo processes his request. He knows he can say no, but there's something about the fact that Aizawa— the man who has been through everything with him and his former classmates, fought with them and for them, and stood up for him when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains—personally calling and asking him that makes him hesitate before answering.

"Fine," he finally says, already thinking about how he's gonna tell Shitty Hair— Kirishima! he hears Mina correcting him in his head— that he might be out of commission for a few days. "What do you need me to do."

"Just show up when I tell you to," Aizawa says in response. "Maintain a high level of secrecy. Don't tell anyone where you're going. I'll send you the address. See you soon."

Aizawa hangs up before Bakugo can respond, and he mutters a series of curse words under his breath before tossing his phone into his duffel bag and leaving for his agency.

Three days later, Aizawa sends him an encrypted text.

Aizawa's text leads Bakugo to a fancy looking apartment complex close to Izuku's agency. When he knocks on the door of the apartment number provided, he's met with none other than Izuku himself.

"What are you doing here, you fucking nerd?" Bakugo asks, his words harsh and biting as he pushes past him and into the apartment.

"I invited him," Aizawa replies tiredly, trying to stop the fighting before it can begin. "This apartment and the other safe house are in the area that falls under his patrol route, so I thought it'd be a good idea to keep him in the loop."

"You're already pulling one of Japan's finest heroes off the streets for this stupid case, is it really necessary to get another involved?"

Bakugo turns when he hears someone new speak, his eyes narrowing when they land on you and an angry looking woman tapping away on her phone.

He knows who you are, used to seeing your pretty face plastered on advertisements and magazines throughout the country. You're a well known singer who dabbles in acting, someone he's tired of hearing about from the group of idiots he calls his friends. An irritated huff escapes his lips and he finds himself thinking about all the times he protected celebrities when he was still a new hero on the scene, and how they turned out to be nothing more than spoiled brats.

"You and Anya both know this case isn't stupid," Aizawa says patiently, shooting you an unreadable look. Bakugo waits to see how you react, studying you as you exchange a look with the other woman— Anya— and pull the blanket on your lap closer to you. Aizawa ignores the two of you, instead choosing to take the time to remind you, and reveal to the other heroes, what exactly he has called them there for. "There is a stalker out there following your each and every move. Do you understand that? And they've already proven that they will stop at nothing to get to you."

"I know," you say softly, your eyes never leaving Aizawa's. "But I can take care of myself. C'mon, you trained me yourself."

There's a moment of silence, and Bakugo thinks that Aizawa might give in. He's wrong.

"No. Hizashi and I have already decided that Bakugo will be keeping an eye on you for the forseeable future and he has agreed to do it. And Midoriya has agreed to keep an eye out during his patrols as well."

Bakugo waits for it. He braces himself and waits for the pettiness and childishness that he's seen displayed by other big names when they don't get what they want. He waits for the yelling, the waterworks, maybe even the sight of you throwing something at Aizawa. But it never comes.

Instead, you nod and stand before turning to face him, letting him catch a glimpse of the frown on your lips and defeat in your eyes before you bow deeply.

"I apologize for the inconvenience."

"O-oh! No, please don't bow," Izuku immediately says, waving his hands in an attempt to grab your attention. "That's not nec—"

"Don't gimme that shit," Bakugo interrupts, crossing his arms. His comment earns him a strangled noise from Izuku, but his gaze doesn't leave you. "Stand the fuck up and tell me whatever else I need to know."

He thinks he sees you biting back an amused smile at his words, but you quickly school your features before you let yourself fall back onto the couch. Aizawa lets himself settle into the seat next to you, a smile ghosting his lips when you reach for a mug of coffee on the table and hand it to him.

"It started a year ago," Aizawa begins. Anya walks around the couch, picking up a thick folder from the table and handing it to Bakugo. He starts looking through it, eyes scanning every individual item before passing it to Izuku. There's letters of varying lengths and pictures of you from all angles, accompanied by the occasional police evidence photo of what he assumes to be gifts you've received.

"I would receive sporadic letters, at first," you add, your voice tired and quiet. "We thought it was regular fanmail, y'know? But then things started getting weird. They would mention specific things that I'd do on my days off, or ask what I was making with the groceries I had delivered to my door on a certain day. They never signed them but the police confirmed that the handwriting matched, so we know it's one person."

"We assume it's one person," Anya corrects, earning a tired sigh from Aizawa. "We don't really know anything about them."

Her words cause you to furrow your brow, and you sigh softly before looking back up at the Pros. Bakugo's eyebrow raises when he comes across a hospital record for a Yamamoto Anya, and he angles it slightly to show Izuku.

"You were in the hospital?" Izuku asks softly, green eyes scanning the report before turning to face the two of you. Anya nods firmly but remains silent, crossing her arms before perching on the arm rest of the couch next to you.

"Anya's my manager, and my best friend," you explain, clasping your hands together. "As I said earlier, at first the incidents were sporadic. Then we went to the police to ask them to investigate. We don't know how, but the stalker found out and things started getting weirder. There were anonymous gifts being received to the apartment I have under a different name and I was receiving texts from an untraceable number. We still don't know who the target was, but the night of the Tokyo Music Awards, there was an attack."

"Wasn't that last week?" Izuku asks, looking through the file to find the corresponding police report. "It was all over the news. They said that some small time villain had attacked but that there had been enough Pros working security for the event and that it had been taken care of without issue."

"That's what we told them to say," Aizawa reveals. "In reality, it was targeted. We don't know if they intended to kidnap or to injure but things got out of hand and Anya was caught in the crossfire."

"The goal was probably to injure so I'd be easier to kidnap," you say, snorting in amusement when Aizawa sighs at your words.

"Who apprehended the villain?" Bakugo asks, unable to find the name on the police report.

"No one did, but I went after them," you admit. "I almost had them but they slipped into the crowd and got away. I returned to check on Anya and then Aizawa arrived and whisked me away. I've been here since."

"You were stupid enough to go after your stalker?" Bakugo growls, eyes shooting up to glare at you. You open your mouth to respond, only to get cut off by him "You trying to get fucking killed or something?"

A huff escapes his lips when he feels Izuku elbow him harshly, and the two of them turn to face you when you breathe out a laugh.

"Or something," you mutter, earning a swat to the back of the head from Anya. You grab her hand and toss it into her lap, only to turn and be met with a disappointed look from Aizawa. You wilt under his gaze, sighing in defeat and motioning for him to continue.

"The plan is to send you two to a safehouse, still within the city, while Midoriya and I investigate," Aizawa explains, pulling out a scrap of paper and handing it to Bakugo. "That's the address. Unfortunately, you can't just disappear off the face of the earth until we catch the stalker. There's still public appearances and interviews that need to be done, but you need to be hidden during these outings, Bakugo. We fear that if the stalker catches wind of the fact that we involved Pros, that might drive them to do something even more drastic."

Bakugo grunts in acknowledgement, unfurling the scrap of paper and studying the address written on it before glancing at Aizawa. "Can I show this to the nerd?"

He nods in response, and Izuku takes a moment to also memorize the address before nodding. The paper is gone within a second, a tiny, controlled explosion reducing it to ashes. Your eyebrows raise with interest at the display, and Bakugo meets your gaze with a scowl. It deepens when you don't immediately cower from his stare.

"The two of you should get going," Aizawa notes, glancing at his watch before standing and tossing a set of keys to Bakugo. You stand as well, taking a moment to stretch before plucking your cell phone from the couch cushion. You turn to Anya, giving her a smug look that makes her groan.

"You should just go ahead and cancel the rest of my appointments for the week. It would be unwise for me to go out in public before coming up with a surefire way to stay safe when out and about," your words are said a little too happily, and you nearly glow with joy when Aizawa contemplates your words before ultimately nodding in agreement. Anya gives you a scathing look, her hand tightening around her phone as you grin. "Let me know who agrees to reschedule! I hope no one's too upset."

The snicker that leaves your lips draws an unwilling smile from almost everyone in the room, and you swoop in to steal a hug from Aizawa before coming to a stop in front of the Pros. There's a bright smile on your lips that makes Izuku blush, and Bakugo scoffs audibly when you give him another bow.

"It's an honor to meet you, Deku. Thank you for doing this."

"Please! Call me Midoriya," he sputters out, cheeks still tinged pink as you turn and face Bakugo. There's a twinkle in your eye when you meet his gaze, and he feels a spark of irritation when he realizes that you don't seem to be intimidated by him.

"Well Mr. Dynamight, shall we get going?"

Bakugo's annoyance only grows when you manage to keep up with his quick strides.

No words are exchanged as you traverse the street, and Bakugo makes sure to keep an eye out as he opens the door and ushers you into the passenger seat, his hand pushing your head down roughly to keep you from smacking it on the roof of the vehicle. You slide into the car smoothly, buckling your seat belt and glancing around as you wait for Bakugo to get in. Silence engulfs the two of you once he does, and Bakugo finds himself reaching for his phone to play some music and fill the stillness. He feels a blush crawling up his neck when one of your songs plays, the new one that Kaminari insisted on listening to the other night when he drove him home after drinks.

A smirk tugs at your lips but you don't say anything about it, thankfully, and he finds a song he likes and plays it before taking off down the road. You're quietly humming along to the song he's chosen as you look out the window, and it isn't until you're halfway to your newly assigned safe house that you speak.

"I'm not, you know?"

That's the only thing you say and Bakugo makes a confused noise before he can stop himself, his hands tightening around the steering wheel in annoyance when you let out an amused laugh.

"I'm not trying to get killed," you clarify, earning a derisive snort from Bakugo in return. "I have a hero license, I was just doing what I've always been taught to do. Apprehend the villain."

Your admission catches Bakugo off guard, and he can't help but throw you a surprised look when he finally comes to a red light.

"You're a hero?" he asks, his curiosity winning him over.

"Mhm," you reply absentmindedly, still looking out the window. "Technically. I attended U.A., believe it or not, but I wasn't in the hero course. Aizawa and some other teachers trained me and he managed to pull some strings in order to have me take the licensing exam in my third year. He said it was better to have it just in case. Between us, I think he got even more overprotective after Nemuri, Midnight, passed."

Bakugo remembers attending the funeral after All for One had been defeated. It had been a deceptively happy day, sun bright and shining as the students, staff, and other heroes gathered to pay their respects to the fallen. He remembers a student standing next to Aizawa, their hand in his as he held onto what was left in the battle: her mask.

"She was my legal guardian, but she made sure to leave me under the care of someone she trusted just in case something ever happened."

And it did, goes unsaid.

Bakugo's left with more questions than before, but he refuses to give into his curiosity and actually ask. It isn't long until the two of you arrive at yet another upscale building, and hum quietly to grab his attention once more.

"Can I have your hoodie?"

"What the fuck? No!" is his immediate reply. There's an unpleasant look on his face, lips twisted up in what seems to be a cross between disgust and offense. "Why the fuck would you even ask?"

You give him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow before holding your hand out. "Listen, call me paranoid if you want, but I think it'd be a good idea for me to hide my face as we enter the top secret safehouse."

Bakugo grumbles and curses as he slips off his sweater, pissed off at the fact that you were right. His anger only intensifies when he realizes that he didn't think about that first. You waste no time in slipping the sweater over your head, pulling the hood as far forward as it can go and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. It's only then that you slip out of the car, waiting for Bakugo to get out before heading towards the entrance.

The two of you head into the elevator, and when you reach out to press the correct button, you manage to catch a whiff of a sweet, smoky smell. You turn your head to the side as the doors close, lifting the collar to your nose to see if it came from the sweater or somewhere else.

"Are you sniffin' my fucking sweater?" Bakugo asks roughly, pulling your arm back down to your side. You let out an offended noise before wrenching out of his grasp, leaning against the wall and shooting him a withering look.

"I smelled something sweet and I was curious!" you defend yourself, tilting your head back slightly to look down at him. Bakugo feels his blood boil. "I can't believe someone like you smells so good."

"What's that supposed to mean!" he nearly yells, taking a step towards you. You don't deign to give him a response, instead slinking out from beside him when the elevator finally comes to a stop. There's no hesitation in your steps as you walk past various doors, finally coming to a stop at the end of the hallway and wiggling a key into the lock.

Bakugo trails in after you, locking the door and growling when he's met with a sweater to the face. There's an innocent smile on your face as you slip off your sunglasses, placing them down onto the coffee table before traipsing down the hallway. Bakugo starts his usual sweep around the space, making sure to send a text to Aizawa to let him know the two of you have arrived safely.

"Your bedroom is at the end of the hall," your voice calls out, earning a grunt in response. "Mine is to your left and the bathoom is across from my room. They already came and dropped our stuff off!"

Bakugo's eyes narrow when you walk back into the living room, a mass of fluff held in your arms. "What the hell is that?"

"This is Pickles!" you proclaim proudly, holding your arms out. There's a fluffy cat in your hands, and she lazily eyes Bakugo as she hangs in the air. Your smile falls when Pickles twists, jumping out from your hold and beelining towards Bakugo. "Pickles, no! I'm sorry, she's wary around strangers so I'd recommend backing away if you don't want your pants scratched."

Your words fade out towards the end of your statement, your jaw falling slack as you observe the way Pickles approaches Bakugo and proceeds to rub against him. She snakes in between his legs, meowing softly and pawing at his shoe as she waits for him to pay attention to her.

"You little attention whore," you whisper, your face twisting up in disbelief when Bakugo kneels down to pet her. He shoots you a smug smirk when she starts purring, and you feel your eye twitch when she lays down, exposing her belly. "She took forever to warm up to me. How did you do that?"

"I'm just the best," Bakugo replies cockily. "Even she knows that."

"Whatever, I'm going to take a nap. I can cook dinner later if you'd like," you say softly, reaching up to rub at your eyes.

"I can cook my own damn food," Bakugo snaps, his attention shifting to you. You breathe out a laugh.

"In that case, I think I'll turn in for the night. I'll leave my door slightly open for Pickles."

"Don't be a dumbass, you have to eat."

"I'll just get up early and cook breakfast," you shout, already disappearing from sight as you make your way to your room. "Good night Mr. Dynamight!"

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles under his breath as you duck into your room. A laugh is all he gets in response, and your room goes dark as you finally settle into bed. His attention is caught by small meow, and he sighs before picking Pickles up and petting her. She curls up against his chest, swatting at his hand and making a pleased noise when she manages to grasp it between two of her paws. He looks down at the cat, raising a brow when she decides to start gnawing on his finger.

"Just you and me hairball."

The two of you fall into an admittedly easy routine throughout the rest of the week.

Bakugo's surprised by how easy this assignment has been. He's used to stubborn celebrities demanding to be let out, complaining and whining and overall just annoying him until he snaps and curses them out. However, you're a quiet housemate, waking up early to cook breakfast for the two of you before retreating to your room for the rest of the day or lounging on the couch with Pickles. Bakugo takes it upon himself to cook dinner for the two of you, and whoever is in charge of lunch is always decided with a coin toss. He loses more often than you do.

Pickles becomes a frequent presence as well, and sometimes he wakes up to see the cat curled up peacefully on the pillow next to him. How she gets into his room, he doesn't know. When he emerges from his room in the morning with her gathered in his arms, you apologize profusely, your stare lingering on the way his lips curl up into a tiny smile when you take her from him.

You inform Bakugo early on in the week that Anya has listened to you, canceling all of your prior engagements and sending you an updated schedule for the next week. He squints when you hold your hand out, cell phone in hand as you prompt him to take it.

"Mr. Dynamight, give me your number."

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles, pushing your hand away from him. "And why the hell would I do that?"

"So I can send you the schedule," you huff, extending your arm once again. He obliges reluctantly, purposefully taking his time in an attempt to annoy you. You don't react to his provocation, instead smiling sweetly at him when he hands your phone back and sending him the file.

When you begin to send him memes, he refuses to acknowledge you for the day.

The two of you spend days successfully planning how to keep you safe during your public appearances, your combined experience making the task easier than you thought it'd be. Your first week back out in public goes well, and even though you know better than to let your guard down, the knowledge that Pro Hero Dynamight is watching you from a distance helps to soothe your nerves. Your routine remains the same for the following week, during which there is an incident, but it turns out to be an overexcited fan. You then beg and beg Anya to book less appearances until she gets fed up with your fake crying.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you hate your job," Bakugo mutters one evening while making dinner. "You keep brushing off all your stupid engagements and you won't have a fucking career to go back to."

"Good thing you know better," you say playfully, your eyes glinting with mischief as you approach him. Your arm brushes against his back as you peek around him, your hand darting out to grab a slice of the strawberries he's cutting up to eat with lunch. He's too slow to stop you, not that he really tries to.

He finds that his original irritation towards the assignment has faded, and even though he misses being out on patrol and taking down bad guys, he thinks that this mission isn't the worst. Or maybe it's because of you. It takes Bakugo weeks to admit to himself that you're not as bad as he thought you'd be. In fact, you're not anything like what he expected you to be, all sly smiles and snarky words and casual touches that he's too embarrassed to reciprocate. But he doesn't like you, no, he doesn't.

You like to think he's getting used to your presence, but his occasional aloofness makes you think otherwise. There's a part of you, the side that's trying to ignore the reason that resulted in being assigned to a safe house in the first place, that enjoys your time spent with Bakugo. You like the way he's so easy to rile up, the way he carefully plates food for both of you, and the way he smiles when Pickles demands his attention. You think that maybe, just maybe, you might like him, even if everything else about his attitude makes you think he doesn't even tolerate you.

But you're too preoccupied with your ongoing case to really sit with your thoughts and try to sort out your feelings.

Updates from Aizawa and Midoriya are few and far between, and although you and Bakugo have fallen into a comfortable routine, you can tell that he's getting fed up with the situation. His restlessness is obvious, especially with the news talking nonstop about his sudden disappearance and speculating on the reasons why Dynamight might've stopped doing his duty as a hero.

"How long do you think this will continue?" you ask one night, sneaking a peek at him and waiting for his snarky reply.

"I dunno," he responds, sounding defeated. He sighs heavily and turns the television off.

He watches as you purse your lips and reach for his hand, pausing when he instinctively pulls away. There's a brief pause before you take a deep breath and let your hand fall on the sofa. He glances at you, eyes scanning your face as you keep staring at the blank screen, and lets his head fall back and eyes fall shut as he mentally berates himself for his actions. You head off to bed soon after, and Bakugo remains there for the rest of the night.

The next morning is quieter than usual, and the two of you are eating breakfast when there's a knock on the door. You waste no time in prancing to the entrance, reaching for the doorknob before a large hand grabs your wrist.

"Don't open the fucking door," he hisses, pulling your hand down. You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head in an innocent manner.

"Why not? It's only Midoriya."

"What?"

You reach over and open the door with your other hand, only to be met with a sunny smile from none other than Pro Hero Deku.

"Kacchan!" he exclaims, brightening up even more at the sight of his childhood friend. "I'm here to swap."

"What?" Bakugo bites out again. Midoriya's smile falters.

"Uh, swap. Places, I mean," he explains, smiling when he looks back at you. "I thought you said he asked?"

"Asked what?" Bakugo growls, his hand tighetning slightly around your arm.

"Yeah! He did," you respond just as cheerily. Bakugo goes ignored.

"Hey! Listen to me when I fucking talk to ya!"

"Come on in, we were just eating breakfast. Would you like any?" you ask. Midoriya shakes his head and you promptly wiggle your arm out of Bakugo's grasp and usher them into the living room.

"What is the shitty nerd doing here?" Bakugo yells, fed up with the situation.

"He's here to take your spot! Remember, Mr. Dynamight ?"

"I already told you, it's Bakugo," he snarls, eyes narrowing as they fall onto you. Your smile is unfaltering and equally as sunny as Izuku's was when he first arrived. He spares a glace at the other Pro Hero in the room, taking note of the way he nervously wrings his hands as he studies the two of you. He doesn't excuse himself before taking ahold of your arm once again, dragging you down the hallway and into his room before slamming the door.

You take a moment to glance around his room, your eyes narrowing when you spot Pickles curled up on his bed, before finally meeting his eyes. There's a fire in his eyes that you've only seen before when he's mid-battle, reserved for situations where his anger is at an all time high. You meet his gaze evenly, and he seems to calm down slightly when make a questioning noise.

"What the fuck was all that about?" he asks harshly, his voice low in order to not be overheard. The walls are thin, he knows this.

"I thought you'd like to return to your hero duties," you say coolly. "Y'know, patrolling and beating up baddies."

"Listen, when I agree to a job I don't plan on doing it half-assed," he retorts. He wonders if your sudden encouragement for him to leave has to do with his actions night before… and the rest of the week. He knows it does. "You're stuck with me, sweetheart, whether you like it or not. So get out there and tell Deku that you changed your mind and that I'll be seeing this task until the very end."

You don't move for a few seconds, and Bakugo's eyebrows furrow in confusion until he realizes the way you bashfully averted your gaze at the nickname. The corner of his lip tugs up into a smirk, but he doesn't get the chance to comment on it before you start speaking.

"Your reputation and ranking are tanking because of this and it's not very fair to you. Besides, nothing has happened in weeks. No letters, no gifts, no suspicious activity. I'm sure it'd be fine to switch spots with Midoriya for a couple of days. And I thought you were getting a little tired of staying in here all day. Maybe getting out and seeing your friends would do you some good."

Bakugo takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. "I already told you, I'm not leaving you until this assignment is done. Go out there, and tell Deku you changed your fucking mind."

"Yeah, about that," you say, your tone of voice causing Bakugo's eyes to fly open. There's impish smile on your face, and Bakugo feels a sense of foreboding as you speak your next words. "I might've told him that you requested the swap. So really, it's you that has to go out there and tell him you changed your mind."

You laugh and head back to the living room before Bakugo can yell at you, smiling softly at Midoriya before heading to the kitchen to clean up the abandoned plates.

Bakugo groans and begrudgingly heads to the living room, dragging Izuku by his collar and leading him to the front door.

He shuts the door in his face and provides no explanation.

Things are different after that.

Bakugo makes a bigger effort to interact with you, spending move evenings by your side instead of keeping his distance. Slowly but surely you begin to notice, and you can't help but wonder if this has anything to do with your discussion in his room the previous week.

You try not to show that you're flustered when the two of you begin to cook together instead of taking turns, and you have to admit that sharing the kitchen with Bakugo is intimate in a way you never knew cooking with somebody else could be. His movements are always fluid, never hesitant, and you find that you fall into a groove when you work alongside him.

The space is full of teasing and grumbling as well, and you find that fleeting touches between the two of you start to become more common. There's the occassional hip check when he tries to steal a piece of whatever you're chopping, and the occasional hand skimming your lower back when he tries to get past you in order to reach something. You tend to go rigid under his touch, and Bakugo finds that he starts doing it a little more often in order to hear the way your breath hitches when his fingertips skim over your shirt. He's thinks he likes you.

You’ve had the time to sit with your feelings, all the swirling uncertainty and aching that you feel weighing down on your heart when you see Bakugo present you with a new dish or scoop Pickles up when she won't stop pawing at his leg. Bakugo Katsuki is so perfectly imperfect, and you think that there's no one in the world who is privileged enough to get to see every single side of him that he has unintentionally and intentionally bared for you to see in your short time living together. You find that it is much easier to come to the conclusion that yes, you do like him. You think you might even love him.

You don't get the chance to wonder if he likes you as well before it all goes to hell.

It's a few days later, on a sunny Wednesday, that you finally come face to face with your stalker.

"Alright, you have one more meeting after this and then we can get you back home," Anya says, hurrying you you of the building you were in and towards the car. You mumble something under your breath, holding your sweater tightly to your body to protect yourself against the afternoon chill. Anya stops by your side when you stumble to a halt, and you quickly grab onto her when you hear something approaching quickly. "What's going on?"

You waste no time in pulling her back, something— someone, you vaguely think— crashing into the spot where you had just been standing.

"What the fuck?" Anya whispers, taking in the sight before you. There's a man standing in front of you, close to your age and surrounding by dark tendrils. His sharp, green eyes slide from Anya to you, and he breaks out into a smile before taking a step forward. Anya places herself in front of you, blocking you from his view and earning a harsh glare from the man. "Get the hell away from us."

You quickly scan your surroundings for any sign of Bakugo, and even though you know he's close by, you can't help but feel a little anxious when he doesn't immediately show up. A movement in your peripheral catches your attention, and you tighten your hold on Anya and dive out of the way before one of the dark tendrils shoots out and incapacitates her. The two of you crash into the side of the car, and you waste no time in opening the door and shoving her inside.

"Stay there!" you tell her, motioning for her to stop trying to open the door.

"No!" she argues, her shouts muffled by the window. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just trust me," you say reassuringly. Anya hesitates before nodding, her hands falling to her side.

"Stay safe. You better not get fucking hurt!"

You nod once, taking a glance to see your stalker getting closer before you take off in a sprint in the direction you know Bakugo is. You whip your phone out, sending quick 'SOS' to Aizawa before turning a corner. You don't bother sending your location, knowing he's probably been tracking you for years.

The sound of footsteps following you only spurs you on, and you try to think of a game plan to deal with the situation in a safe manner before you feel something wrap around your wrist. You come to a sudden stop when the tendril pulls you back, and you let out a cry when you stumble and fall to the ground, your knees knocking harshly against the concrete.

"I've been looking for you for so long," the man breathes, kneeling down to take your hand in his. You resist the urge to tear it away from him, conscious of the way the tendril seems to loosen when you relax. "I finally found you, we can finally be together."

You take a moment to study him, trying to gather your thoughts before responding. Your voice is light as you speak, and you lean forwards slightly in an attempt to make it seem like you're giving in. "We can. But you're hurting me, you know? You're quite strong, I can't believe I didn't realize it soon."

He takes the bait, retracting the tendril and almost glowing at the words that leave your lips. His lips part to respond and you waste no time in head butting him hard enough to send him sprawling. You hop to your feet, stumbling briefly when your bruised knees almost give out, but you manage to keep your balance and dodge the tendril your stalker attacks with.

"You bitch!" he screams, earning an eye roll from you as he tries to grab ahold of you once more. "I don't know why you're doing this when it's clear we're meant to be together!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say under your breath, lunging forwards to land a hit. He defends poorly, and you think that his strange obsession with you has come in handy when he refuses to strike back in fear of hurting you.

When Bakugo lands on the sidewalk in front of you mere seconds later, he's met with the sight of your stalker face down on the ground, unconscious and with hands creatively tied behind his back with your sweater as you stare at him smugly. A tired laugh leaves Bakugo's lips and he wastes no time in removing the sweater, slapping on a pair of quirk canceling handcuff onto your stalker and moving to lean him up against the building behind you.

"Took you long enough," you chirp, earning a glare from Bakugo.

"I can't believe you were stupid enough to go after your stalker," he states, his words reminiscent of the ones he said when he first met you. "Actually, scratch that. Yeah, I fucking can."

"Well it's not like you were doing anything," you retort, crossing your arms. "Where were you?"

"I had it under control," he barks, motioning to the area around you. You take note of Midoriya standing on a rooftop, a couple of detectives scattered down the street as they wait for Bakugo's all clear.

"Oh!"

"What happened here?"

You turn when you see Aizawa approaching, eyes tired but alert as they scan you for injuries. You beam at him, pointing towards the unsconscious criminal before gesturing to yourself to show that you're fine, other than your bruised knees. "See! I told you I could handle myself."

"Yes, I suppose you did," is all he says before turning to Bakugo. He's caught off guard when Aizawa bows deeply. "I'm eternally thankful, Bakugo. You did a great job, even if it turned out we didn't need your help after all."

The last statement is said mockingly, and you pout when Aizawa shoots you a pointed look. You ignore it in favor of turning to Bakugo, bowing as well.

"I already told you, don't gimme that shit," he spits out, crossing his arms when you straighten up and give him a shit-eating grin.

"I just wanted to give you my thanks," you say, a teasing lilt to your voice as you take a step forward. Aizawa grunts before walking away, shaking his head as he goes. "Although I suppose that there are other—"

"You're safe!"

Anya's screams interrupt you, and you give Bakugo an apologetic look as she pulls you away, fussing over you and bending down to clean off your knees. You smile fondly as she shoves a water bottle into your hand, stealing one last glance at Bakugo before he's whisked away by the detectives to make a statement.

A week passes and Bakugo hasn't stopped thinking about you.

He wonders how often he'd get to see you now that he's not watching over you, grimacing when he realizes that he'd probably only see you at hero galas and community fundraisers that might overlap with both of your schedules. The two of you have exchanged a few messages since the mission ended, lot of memes being sent from your end that make Bakugo laugh, not that he'd ever admit it.

He's wondering if he should build up the courage to be more direct with you, to possibly follow up on how you could thank him and then ask you out on a date when he hears a knock on his door.

"Hey!" you greet him when he opens the door, bright smile on your face as you shove a bag into his hands. "I hope you don't mind but I got your address form Aizawa. I was thinking I could cook you dinner, you know, as a thank you."

His jaw is hanging as he takes you in, and you snicker when he doesn't respond.

"Hey, what's wrong? Pickles got your tongue?" you laugh at your own joke, and Bekugo snaps his jaw shut at the words, ushering you in and shutting the door behind you.

"That was a shitty joke."

"Eh, can't expect everyone to get my sense of humor."

He shakes his head fondly as he follows you into his kitchen, and you take the bag you previously pushed into his arms and place it on the counter. You look at him expectantly raising an eyebrow teasingly as he takes a step closer.

"So this dinner,” he starts, tone casual as he drinks you in. “Is it a date?"

"Do you want it to be?" you respond. Your voice is quiet and light, and he finds himself crowding you against the counter, arms on either side of you as he cages you in. You're vaguely reminded of the time the two of you argued in his room at the safe house, the only difference being the look in his eyes. Where there was anger that day, this time you see nothing but an unfamiliar tenderness, eyes warm as he mulls his answer over.

"Yeah," he says roughly, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you look at him in mild surprise. "I do want it to be."

“I didn’t think you’d admit it,” you retort. The smile he receives in return is almost blinding, but he feels that familiar sense of foreboding when you suddenly give him a coy look and wrap your arms around his neck.

"So... does this mean I'm... Mrs. Dynamight?" you ask innocently.

"Shut the fuck up," he groans before finally leaning down to silence your giggles with a kiss.

ty for reading <3

[venuslarkspur]

Can I please request a teen female reader (15-17?) who’s entered the games to help her family, like all the responsibilities have fallen to her after her dads death 🥺💕(ANY CHARACTERS WILL DO) ILY UR PINK HAIR FIC AS WELL)

Playtime’s Over.

Pairing(s): Squid Game Characters meet Fem!Teen!Reader, (ALL PLATONIC). Contains: Thanos, Se-Mi, Kang Dae Ho, Seong Gi Hun, Cho Hyun Ju, Park Gyeong Seok.

Summary: Them just doting on Teen Reader and wanting to protect her!

Note: This can be read as gender neutral as well! I didn’t really go out of the way to make it female looking back. NOT PROOFREAD I COULD NOT BE ARSED

Warning(s): ANGST, mentions of eating, VIOLENCE, family problems.

Thanos

- He immediately takes a liking to you and can straight away tell you’re not actually 18. (I’m with the firm belief this man would have a soft spot for kids)

- Forces the rest of the group to refer to you as “yeodongsaeng” (or little just sister) and it makes you feel loved, even though you know he’s full of shit , kids see everything.

- You swear that sometimes he thinks you’re his actual sister, with the way he acts towards you; others in the game constantly think you’re actual siblings.

- Nearly gives you some of his drugs before he remembers your age and tells you to scram and do your homework.

- Doesn’t let Nam-Gyu shit talk you, would sooner slap him on the head than let him do that, and firmly reminds him you’re his younger sister now as well. That thought of being his sister made you want to vomit, but you wouldn’t mind Thanos being your brother though.

- Bonding over your father’s not being around anymore! Even though your circumstances are very different.

- When 2 players are called In mingle. He hesitates, despite the drugs running through his system; he shouts at Nam-Gyu to go with Min-Su while he drags you into a nearby room. Dumbfounded you still were, as he picked you first.

- You had found someone, despite his countless flaws and bullshit. There was still someone, until there wasn’t anymore. And you were left alone again.

Se-Mi

- You’re the only one she’s letting call her ‘unnie’, very protective of you even before knowing your true age.

- If you need a distraction she will let you play with one of her rings while she asks you how school is and how you are doing.

- Very torn when she hears you’re providing for a whole family by yourself, wants to be there for you. Since you’re a kid with no parents to guide you here.

- Would give you her milk carton and egg. She doesn’t want it anyway just take it!

- Lets you trail after her like a duckling.

- Isn’t afraid to tell anyone to leave you alone if you’re getting picked on.

- Has an epiphany when she realised the reason your so good at the games is because it probably hasn’t bee long since you played them on the school courtyard :(

- Protects you in mingle, even though she knows she won’t always be able to keep you safe. But it ended up being her you failed to save.

Kang Dae-Ho

- Was the first person to jump in and help you when you were getting abused by one of the other players, an older man that you had pickpocketed quite recently; naturally, he longed for his revenge, firmly punching your stomach, you fell to the ground immediately; he grabbed your hair and before he could land a blow on your face another player stepped in.

- “Leave the kid alone.�� Another man, younger this time whose number read “388” had jumped in to defend you. The older man backed off slightly, but still felt the need to verbally attack you. “You know this little bitch?” He spat out, locking eyes with you. “This kid stole cash from me!” He screamed pointing an accusatory finger at you. You weren’t denying, you hanged your head in guilt; even if you explained your circumstances, he wouldn’t care. “Maybe she did, but shes just a defenceless kid,, lay off.” and with that the stingy man trotted away, maintaining eye contact with you.

- Player 388 had checked up on you after that, since that day you were overly attached to him. Trailing after him, he didn’t mind at all not one bit. He told you he actually had several older sisters and it was nice to have a younger one for a change.

- He respects your strength and perseverance more than anyone, having to provide for an entire family when you’re just a kid yourself is TIRING work and unimaginable for him.

- Encourages you to make your own choices, like don’t pick “O” or “X” just because he did.

- Makes sure you are one of the first prioritised during mingle, he saw what happened to Young-Mi and couldn’t live with himself if the same happened to you. You do a lot of hand holding after what happened to Young Mi; he’s scared to let go.

- He hates seeing how little hope there is in your eyes for someone so young, it’s his personal mission to make you feel hope again.

Seong Gi-Hun

- Even though he’s kind of in his depressed era rn, all he sees when he looks at you is his daughter staring back at him. Acknowledges straight away that you’re only a bit older than her.

- It takes you a while to catch on, but you eventually realise why he’s protective of you. His own daughter wasn’t around anymore is the conclusion you came to, where she is or if she is you don’t know. Only that he must not see her anymore.

- scolds you quite a lot, telling you that you shouldn’t even be here anyway. That instead you should be doing your homework or studying for your next exam.

- When the cameras watch he has to distance himself from you, he doesn’t want the Frontman to know of his now emotional connection with you.

- You remind him of Sae-Byeok in an odd way.

- Would never forgive yourself if you died, you’d constantly be on his mind.

Cho Hyun Ju

- I can’t lie she initially tries to stay clear of you, she knows if she gets too attached and you die, she won’t be able to live with herself.

- But she can’t seem to get rid of you, you follow her around like a baby duck.

- You, Her and Young-Mi become like a sisterhood, she’s the oldest and you’re the baby of the group. You both call her ‘unnie’

- Young Mi gives you her food and Hyun Ju follows along and passes you some milk. Because you need it to be “big and strong”

- She has so many questions about how you ended up in here. Where are your parents? What are your family doing if you’re here? Shouldn’t you be in school?

- When Young Mi dies she gets very protective of you, she’s not losing you as well.

Park Gyeong-Seok

- Projection!!! He’s missing his daughter, you’re missing your dad! The perfect duo.

- On a serious note he hates how attached he is to you.

- You joined his group in the 2nd game and you played Flying Stone. He knows something was off about you, even putting on a tough exterior you seemed so childlike. When you confess your actual age he’s horrified, he didn’t want to believe it. How on earth are you in debt?

- He can’t believe you’re providing for a whole family. He struggles just providing for his daughter.

- Encourages you to hit “X”, trust me you don’t want to die here, you can’t help your family from your grave.

- If you seem a little hungry he offers you his food.

- You’re attached by the hip during mingle, you never left his side.

- He comforts you during the riot in lights out. Cradling your body, and running his hands through your hair to calm you down; wondering if this is how he’d hold his own daughter if she were here.

- You beg him not to go with the others in the revolt, he almost doesn’t. And later he’d wish he didn’t.

[lov3notts]

rewritten

theodore nott x reader

summary: part 3, can Theo fix things between you two? after so much heartbreak can you give him a second chance?

a/n:im sorry this took so long, I got hit with writers block and discouragement, hope you guys like it!!

Navigation; masterlist; request rules; part 1; part 2

Mattheo had seen Theo at his lowest before. After brutal duels, after fights with his father, after sleepless nights filled with too much firewhisky and not enough self-preservation. But this? This was different.

This wasn’t anger. Wasn’t recklessness.

This was nothingness.

Theo was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it had the answers to all of his problems. His dorm was a disaster—papers scattered, books left open, untouched meals sitting cold on his desk. The only movement in the room came from the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Mattheo leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed."Mate."

No response.

"You look like shit."

Still nothing.

Mattheo sighed, running a hand through his hair before stepping further into the room. "Alright, fine. You wanna sit here and wallow, go ahead. But you do know this isn’t sustainable, right?"

Theo didn’t even blink.

"Skipping class, not eating, shutting everyone out—what’s the end goal here?"

Silence.

Mattheo clenched his jaw, patience wearing thin. He walked over and grabbed a book off Theo’s desk before chucking it at him. It hit his shoulder, but Theo barely reacted.

That pissed Mattheo off.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" he snapped. "What, you’re just gonna waste away in here? That’s your big plan?"

Finally, Theo shifted. Slowly, he looked up, his face pale and hollow. His voice, when he spoke, was rough. "What do you want me to do, Mattheo?"

"Oh, I don’t know—anything but this?" Mattheo gestured around the room. "You’ve made some stupid decisions before, but this? This is pathetic, even for you."

Theo let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Pathetic. Yeah. That sounds about right."

Mattheo exhaled sharply, dragging a chair closer and sitting across from him. "Listen, I get it. You fucked up. Big time. But wasting away in here isn’t gonna change that. You want her back? Fight for her. You want to move on? Then do it. But don’t just sit here acting like your life is over because she walked away."

Theo’s eyes darkened. "It is over."

Mattheo froze.

It wasn’t the words that shook him—it was the way Theo meant them.

"You don’t get it," Theo muttered, voice raw. "She wasn’t just some girl, Mattheo. She was everything. And I ruined it. I ruined her." His fingers dug into his knees, knuckles white. "So tell me, what exactly am I supposed to do now?"

For the first time, Mattheo didn’t have a quick response. Because fuck—he didn’t know.

He had never seen Theo like this before.

But he did know one thing.

"You need to talk to her," he said finally.

Theo scoffed, shaking his head. "She won’t listen."

Mattheo leaned forward. "Not if you keep sulking like a bloody ghost. But if you really love her? Then you have to at least try."

Theo swallowed hard, his walls cracking just a bit.

Mattheo sighed, standing up. "Look, I can’t force you to get your shit together. But I can ask for help." He glanced toward the door. "If you won’t go to her, maybe she’ll come to you."

Theo’s head snapped up. "Mattheo—"

"Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle," Mattheo said with a smirk, but there was no humor behind it. "Just sit tight, yeah?"

And with that, he walked out, leaving Theo alone with his demons.

The days after your fight with Theodore Nott were oddly quiet. Not because the world had stopped moving, but because a part of you had. No matter how much you tried to push forward, his words still echoed in your head.

“it was just a bet!”

Now, you were sitting in the Great Hall, trying to focus on your breakfast when a presence loomed over you.

"Can we talk?"

You glanced up and met Mattheo Riddle’s gaze. His usual smirk was absent, his dark eyes serious. That alone sent a chill down your spine. Mattheo never looked serious.

You hesitated. "Depends. What about?"

He exhaled sharply and took a seat across from you without invitation. "It’s Theo."

Your stomach twisted, but you masked it with indifference. "Not my problem."

Mattheo scoffed. "Yeah, well, that’s the thing. He’s not exactly making himself anyone’s problem anymore. He’s barely eating, hasn’t been to class in days, and I haven’t seen him leave his room since—" He stopped himself, but you knew what he was about to say.

Since you left him on his knees in the library.

You forced yourself to take a bite of toast, despite suddenly losing your appetite. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

"You don’t have to do anything. But maybe… just talk to him?"

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "You do remember that he completely shattered my trust, right? That I was just some game to him?"

Mattheo ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I know, okay? I know he screwed up. And if you never want to see him again, I get it. But…" His voice lowered. "I don’t think he’s okay. I don’t think he will be if someone doesn’t pull him out of whatever the hell he’s drowning in."

That made your chest tighten. No matter how much Theo had hurt you, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t care. But did you care enough to reopen old wounds? To look at the person who betrayed you and risk getting hurt all over again?

Mattheo must have seen your hesitation because he leaned forward, his voice softer now. "I wouldn’t be here begging if I thought he could fix this himself. But he can’t. And like it or not, you’re the only one who can get through to him."

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the table.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea.

But deep down, you already knew what you were going to do.

You stood in front of his dormitory door, your hand hovering over the doorknob, the air thick with uncertainty. You’d come here, but now that you were standing here, the doubt crept back in. Was this the right choice? Could you really face him? Could you even talk to him without everything you felt rushing back—without everything he did rushing back?

You knocked softly, but there was no response. The quiet only made the pressure in your chest grow. Hesitant, you slowly turned the knob, and to your surprise, the door creaked open.

The room was dim, only a few rays of light slipping through the curtains. And there, in the middle of the room, was Theodore Nott. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with an unreadable expression. His body was curled into itself, as if he were trying to shrink away from the world.

A pang of guilt surged through you. You wanted to turn away, to run, but you couldn’t.

Your feet moved before you could stop them, one step at a time, until you were standing beside his bed. You swallowed hard, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "Theo?"

His head snapped toward the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with shock. His expression froze as he stared at you—like he was afraid, as if seeing you might be some cruel trick. His eyes, so full of confusion and fear, shimmered with unshed tears.

"Y/N?… You came?" His voice was barely a whisper, like he didn’t believe you were really there.

A wave of emotion washed over you, but you pushed it down, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mattheo said you weren’t doing well.”

Theo didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, as if your words hadn’t even fully registered yet. His eyes searched your face, every line of his body tense, too afraid to even move, like any sudden movement would make you disappear. You could see how broken he looked, how much he wanted to believe this wasn’t just some dream.

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, as if trying to find the right words, or maybe wondering if words even mattered anymore.

You glanced past him into the room. It was a mess—books scattered, clothes thrown carelessly, a tray of untouched food on the desk. It smelled like stale air and something heartbreakingly lonely.

You hesitated before speaking. "This isn’t you, Theo."

"I don’t know who I am without you," he admitted, voice raw.

You turned to him sharply, something inside you cracking at the sheer honesty in his voice. "Theo…"

"No, let me say this."He exhaled shakily, running a trembling hand through his hair. "I know I don’t deserve to ask for anything from you. I don’t deserve to stand here and beg, but—" He cut himself off, pressing his lips together like he was trying to hold himself together.

And then, quietly, "I don’t know how to exist without you."

Your breath hitched. "You were the one who broke us, Theo. You made that choice."

"I know." His voice cracked. "And I hate myself for it. Every second of every day, I regret it. The bet, the lies, all of it—it was the biggest mistake of my life."

You swallowed, arms tightening around yourself. "Then why did you do it?"

"Because I was a coward." He let out a bitter laugh. "Because I had you—this brilliant, beautiful, impossible thing—and I was terrified that you were too good to be real. That I would love you and you would leave, so I ruined it before you could."

His confession left you breathless.

You had spent so long believing you were never enough for him. That you had been nothing but a game. But hearing this—hearing that he had been just as scared as you had—made your chest ache.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Theo whispered. "But I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I need you to know that I loved you. That I still do."

You blinked, eyes burning. "Theo…"

"I would move mountains just to be with you again," he continued, voice shaking. "Even if it takes years. Even if you never look at me the same way again. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that you were never just a bet to me."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, unbidden, and Theo’s breath stuttered like the sight of your pain was physically hurting him.

He reached out instinctively but stopped himself, his hands hovering inches from yours. "Tell me there’s still a chance." His voice was barely a whisper. "Even if it’s not today. Even if it’s not soon. Just tell me I haven’t lost you forever."

You stood there, heart hammering, torn between the pain of the past and the boy in front of you—broken, vulnerable, real.

This was the moment.

The moment where you could walk away, close the door, leave him to his regret.

Or you could stay.

You took a breath.

And then, finally, you spoke.

The first few days after you left his dorm were the hardest.

Theo had promised you he’d fix himself, that he’d become better—not for you, but for himself first. But promises were just words, and words had never been enough. Not when he had already shattered your trust once.

So, for the first time in weeks, he forced himself out of bed.

It wasn’t easy. The weight of his mistakes clung to him like a sickness, making even the smallest things feel impossible. Eating felt pointless. Attending class felt meaningless. But he did it anyway. One step at a time.

At breakfast, Mattheo raised an eyebrow when Theo sat down at their usual table, his plate only half-full.

"Didn’t think I’d see you out of that damn room anytime soon," Mattheo muttered, nudging his shoulder.

Theo didn’t respond right away, just picked at his food before finally saying, "I need to fix things."

Mattheo huffed out a short laugh, though there was no malice behind it. "Yeah? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Theo didn’t have an answer yet. But he knew one thing—he couldn’t keep being this version of himself. The one who wallowed in his grief, who drowned in guilt without trying to swim to the surface.

So, he changed.

He stopped avoiding the world. Stopped shutting people out.

He went to class, even when his mind screamed at him to go back to bed. He studied harder than he ever had before, pouring himself into books instead of his own self-loathing. When his friends spoke to him, he actually listened instead of shutting them out.

He even picked up his journal again, spilling his thoughts onto paper in a desperate attempt to make sense of the chaos inside his head. He wrote letters—ones meant for you, ones that would never be sent. Some were apologies, some were confessions, but all of them were real.

But it wasn’t about getting you back.

It was about becoming someone who deserved you.

Someone you could trust again.

Weeks passed before he saw you again.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t fate. It was just life forcing their paths to cross like it always did.

You were sitting by the Black Lake, your nose buried in a book, completely lost in the words. He should’ve walked away. Should’ve kept his distance. But his feet betrayed him, halting a few steps away from you.

You must’ve felt his presence because you looked up, your eyes meeting his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Theo braced himself for the worst—coldness, anger, maybe even indifference. But instead, you studied him, like if you were trying to figure out if the person standing before you was the same one who had broken your heart.

"You look… different," you said softly.

Theo swallowed. "I had to be."

your gaze didn’t waver. "Why?"

"Because the person I was before didn’t deserve you."

Something flickered in your expression, but you didn’t look away. You just nodded, your grip tightening around the book on your lap.

Not forgiveness. Not yet.

But something.

Weeks turned into months. Theo didn’t push, didn’t force his way back into your life. He just showed up.

Not in the obvious ways. He didn’t beg or plead. Didn’t bombard her with apologies. Instead, he proved himself in the quiet moments.

He helped first-years struggling with their potions when no one was watching. He started paying attention in class, excelling in subjects he used to neglect. He let people rely on him, let himself become someone trustworthy—not just to you, but to everyone around him.

And then, when the time was right, he left something for you.

A book.

Your favorite one, sitting on the library table where you used to study together. But inside, tucked between the pages, were letters.

Dozens of them. Some dated weeks ago, some written only days before.

You hesitated before picking it up, flipping through the pages. And then you saw the first note.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry One

Date: The Night You Left

I haven’t stopped thinking about the look in your eyes. The way you froze. The way your breath caught like I had knocked the air out of you.

I keep telling myself that if I had just shut up, if I had just walked away instead of letting my anger win, you’d still be here. But I didn’t. I let the worst version of myself take control, and now I have to live with the fact that the last thing you heard from me was a lie.

Because that’s what it was. A lie.

You were never a bet.

Not for a single second.

You were the first thing in my life that ever felt real. The first person who looked at me like I was worth something. The first person I ever truly, fully loved. And I threw that away. I let my pride, my temper, my own self-destruction take over, and I broke the one thing I never wanted to lose.

I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if I can. But if I have to spend the rest of my life proving to you that what we had—what we have—is real, then I will.

Even if it’s too late.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 2

Date: One Week Without You

I see you everywhere.

In the empty chair across from me in the library. In the spaces between my fingers where yours used to fit. In the quiet moments where your voice used to live.

And I wonder—do you miss me at all? Do you hear my name in whispers? Do you reach for me in your sleep? Or am I just a scar you’re waiting to fade?

If you told me to wait for you, I would. I would wait for days, for months, for years—as long as it took for you to believe that I never meant those words. That you were never a game to me. That you were the only thing that ever made sense in my life.

But you haven’t told me anything.

So I wait anyway.

Because I can’t imagine a world where I ever stop hoping for you.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 3

Date: Two Weeks Without You

I should’ve told you how beautiful you looked in the mornings, when your hair was a mess and your voice was still laced with sleep.

I should’ve told you how your laugh could pull me out of my worst days, how it became the sound I searched for in crowded rooms.

I should’ve told you that loving you scared me. That it made me feel like I had something to lose for the first time in my life.

I should’ve told you that the night we had our first kiss, I went back to my dorm, sat on my bed, and smiled—just sat there, grinning like an idiot, because I knew, in that moment, that I was done for. That you had ruined me for anyone else.

I should’ve told you that I loved you more than I loved myself.

Maybe if I had, you’d still be here.

-theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 4

Date: three Weeks Without You

You probably don’t know that I still sit in the library, right where you left me. Not every night. Just the ones where I can’t breathe.

You probably don’t know that I reread our old notes, the ones we used to pass back and forth in class. I keep them in my bag like they’re sacred, like they’re proof that once, you laughed with me. That once, I wasn’t just a mistake to you.

You probably don’t know that every time I hear your name, my hands shake.

That I’ve started keeping a list of all the things I should’ve done differently.

That I miss you in a way that feels like it might kill me.

But the worst part?

You probably don’t care anymore.

And I deserve that.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 5

Date: The Day You Knocked on My Door

I thought I was dreaming.

I heard the knock, but I didn’t move. I figured it was Mattheo, coming to drag me out of this room again, to remind me that I’m still supposed to be alive, even when I feel like I’m not.

But then I heard your voice.

And suddenly, I was alive.

I was shocked to see you. Not because I didn’t want to see you—I ached to see you—but because I was afraid. Afraid that I had imagined it. Afraid that you were here just to tell me, to my face, that you were done for good.

But you weren’t.

You were there.

Standing in my doorway, looking at me like you didn’t recognize me anymore. Maybe you don’t. Maybe I really am just a shell of the person you once loved.

You didn’t say anything at first. And I didn’t either. I was too busy memorizing the way your hands twitched at your sides, the way your lips parted slightly like you wanted to speak but didn’t know where to start.

And then, finally—"Mattheo said I should talk to you."

Your voice was quieter than I remembered. Or maybe I had just forgotten what it was like to hear it so close.

I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted to fall to my knees again and beg, to tell you that I haven’t slept, that I haven’t breathed right since you walked away, that I would do anything to rewrite the past.

But instead, I just nodded.

Because I knew this wasn’t my moment to fall apart. This was your moment to decide if I was worth saving.

So I stood there.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Daring to believe that maybe—just maybe—you hadn’t given up on me yet.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Entry 6

Date: One Month Without You

I don’t just want your forgiveness.

I want your trust. Your laughter. Your sleepy morning voice. The way you roll your eyes at me but secretly smile when you think I’m not looking. The way you say my name like it’s something safe.

I want you.

And I know I have no right to ask for that.

But if there is even the smallest chance—if there is even the tiniest sliver of hope that you still look at me and see something worth saving—then I will not waste it.

I will prove it to you. With every breath, with every action, with every single moment I have left in this life.

Because I love you.

And I will spend a lifetime making it right.

—Theo

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

At first, your hands tremble. The pages feel heavier than they should, like they’re carrying all the weight of the past, of everything left unsaid, of him.

You tell yourself you’ll just read one. Just a glimpse. Just to know if he even cares.

But then one turns into two. Then three. Then all of them.

And suddenly, you can’t breathe.

Because this isn’t just guilt. This isn’t just some empty apology, some desperate attempt to win you back with words. This is raw. This is pain. This is love.

This is a boy breaking himself open, spilling every ugly, unspoken truth onto paper because he doesn’t know how else to reach you.

And God, you feel it.

You feel it in the way his handwriting shakes in some letters but steadies in others, like he’s fighting himself, like he’s trying to hold on and let go at the same time.

You feel it in the confessions he never said out loud—the ones about how he saw you in everything, how he would’ve moved mountains to take it all back, how he doesn’t just want you to forgive him, he wants you to trust him.

And when you read the last letter—the one about how he would spend a lifetime making it right—you realize something.

He never stopped fighting for you.

Not once.

Not even when he thought he had already lost.

And then, with your chest so tight it almost hurts, you look up.

He’s already watching you.

Theo looks like he’s barely breathing, like the moment is too fragile, like if he moves too fast, you might disappear. There’s something in his eyes you haven’t seen in a long time—something that almost makes your throat close up.

Hope.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting. Letting you decide what happens next.

And for the first time in a long time, you realize…

He means it.

Every word. Every promise.

The silence between you stretches, thick with everything unsaid. The letters are still clutched in your hands, his words lingering in your chest, pressing against the pieces of your heart that you swore were too broken to be put back together.

Theo swallows hard. His hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. "Say something," he finally murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

You inhale sharply, steadying yourself. "Do you really mean it?"

He doesn’t hesitate. "Every word."

"And you’re not just saying all of this because you miss me? Because you feel guilty?" Your voice is careful, guarded—because this has to be real. If you give him your heart again, there’s no surviving if he shatters it a second time.

Theo steps closer. Not too close, but enough that you can see the raw desperation in his eyes. "I’m saying this because losing you was the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Because I was an idiot, and I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself for that." He pauses, his breath shaky. "But more than anything, I’m saying it because I love you. I never stopped. And I never will.*"

Your heart clenches painfully. "Theo…"

"You don’t have to say it back," he cuts in quickly. "You don’t have to promise me anything. Just—" He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. "Just tell me there’s a chance. Tell me I haven’t lost you forever."

You look at him then, really look at him. He’s not the same person he was that night in the library. He’s not the boy who let pride and recklessness ruin the best thing in his life. He’s different. He’s trying.

And that’s when you know.

You step forward, closing the distance between you. His breath catches as your hand brushes against his—light, hesitant, but enough to make his whole body go still.

"I’m still angry," you admit softly. "I’m still hurt."

Theo nods, his jaw tightening. "I know."

"But…" You take a breath, steadying yourself. "I believe you."

His eyes widen slightly, like he wasn’t expecting those words. "You—"

"I believe that you mean it," you clarify. "And if you’re really going to prove it—if you’re really going to fight for this—"

You pause, feeling the weight of this moment. Then, finally, you say the words that make his breath shudder.

"Then I’m willing to try."

For a second, Theo doesn’t move. He just stares at you, like he’s afraid he imagined it. But then—

"You won’t regret it," he swears, his voice cracking slightly. "I swear on everything, I won’t waste this chance."

And when he finally, finally takes your hand—holding it like it’s the most precious thing in the world— you let him.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

tag list: @simp-for-fantasy @nottinmyheart

[heavyhitterheaux]

“Fix your attitude or I’ll do it for you” Joe to wifey 🤪🥵

Joe was really trying to be patient, but all in all it was wearing thin since you had been difficult with him all day and he couldn't figure out why.

It started this morning when you woke up and he asked you what you wanted for breakfast because he had enough time to fix it before he left.

He had told you the day before that he was going to be gone the majority of the day and that's when your mood had turned sour. You get it, he had things to do that he was responsible for, but you kept thinking to yourself that there was no reason why it was the off season and you felt like you had to make an official appointment to be able to spend time with your husband.

But what you didn’t know was that Joe was actually getting things for the nursery and the twins' playroom and planned to stash it at Ja'Marr's house so that he could surprise you. He had been trying to carve out time to do it, but seeing as it was the middle of the season when you told him you were pregnant made it harder.

But because of his absence, he sent you to get your hair and nails done. He also flew Erin and Alisha to Cincinnati at the same time and he asked them to take you out for the rest of the day so that he could keep you occupied.

When he finally got back, he walked in the house and saw you sitting on the floor in the living room as your back was leaning on the couch flipping through channels on the TV.

Joe sat down next to you and leaned over to kiss your cheek as he started to play with your hair.

“Hey baby doll.”

“Hi.” You quietly replied, but Joe brushed it off and thought nothing else of it.

“Why are you on the floor? Is your back hurting again? I can get your pillow for you.”

“It's fine. Leaning on the back of the couch is helping.”

“Your hair looks pretty. I like the color.”

“Thanks.” You told him as you finally settled on watching Powerpuff Girls.

It was quiet for a few minutes before Joe grabbed your hand and caught your attention once more.

“Is something wrong?” Joe asked and you literally let out a huff.

“What makes you think that, Joseph?”

“Whoa. You saying my name makes me think that. First name basis? Seriously?”

“You have been gone ALL DAY.” You whined as you crossed your arms to look at him.

“I… so have you?” Joe replied with a confused expression on his face and you instantly rolled your eyes.

“So, do I have to schedule an appointment to spend time with my husband during his off season? Because OBVIOUSLY I DO.”

“First of all, fix your attitude or I’ll do it for you.” He told you and you let out another huff.

“I was doing something so that I could surprise you, but I didn’t expect for this to be your reaction. I literally flew in Erin and Alisha because I knew that this was going to take me all day because you haven't seen them in forever and I got met with an attitude from my wife when I came home.”

“I…” You started to say, but Joe cut you off.

“I'm not done. I was getting things ready for the twins’ nursery, playroom, and getting things for you too to help make the rest of this pregnancy as comfortable as possible. All you had to do was send me a text saying that you missed me and I would have come back. Simple as that.”

“You can never just let me be dramatic for one day!? I'm pregnant!”

“You being too dramatic is actually the problem whether you're pregnant or not and you know better. No, you don't have to schedule an appointment to see me but you might need to start if this attitude doesn't go away. But I get it that you missed me and were frustrated. Now are we done?”

“Yes! Now can you fix my attitude for me? I think I still have it.” You asked as you smiled at him and batted your eyelashes and all he did was shake his head at you as he came to a realization.

“I… you did this because you wanted me to dick you down, didn't you? You weren't even mad to begin with.” He asked while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner! I got to see my best friends, get my hair and nails done, and chill all day. I LOVE when you get all mad at me. Your voice gets deeper and whew. I want you to put me through the mattress.” You told him as you kissed him multiple times and moved yourself to sit on his lap.

“What am I going to do with you?” Joe asked before he busted out laughing.

“Nothing because you love me. Now take your clothes off.”

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ who said that I hate you? - OO2

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: Where Y/n, in an attempt to escape from Charles, her rival, fails because Charles keeps getting closer, and Y/n starts to like it.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Charles Leclerc x Female Reader! Red Bull Driver

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Warnings: Cute, Charles has improved from his foolishness, nothing too serious in this one, just fluff 🤍

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: I didn’t really like this story, it feels like I couldn’t develop it very well, but I hope you like it! English is not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ part one here ! 🤍

You couldn’t deny how Charles’ proximity brought several consequences, like: the media. Everyone was speculating so many things that happened between you two, theories totally out of reality. You tried to avoid him as much as you could or push him away, but he was always there, and that irritated you.

When you thought the wave of bad luck had ended, the universe conspired against you again.

This time it wasn’t your fault. It was finally your chance to make it to the podium, you were in second place, and because of a mistake from your team, you ended up in sixteenth place. After the race, you didn’t want to talk to anyone, and everyone knew it.

Then you hear a knock on the door but completely ignore it.

“I know you’re in there,” Charles says, and you just ignore him again.

After a while, you hear another knock. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Go away, Leclerc,” you say straightforwardly.

After your response, there’s a deadly silence, then you just close your eyes and sigh. But within a few seconds, you get startled when your door opens.

Clearly, Charles hadn’t left, so he decides to check and see how you’re doing, then opens the unlocked door.

“Are you crazy, you idiot?” you say, irritated as he enters, still recovering from the shock. Charles smiles and leans against the doorframe.

“Before anything, I need to know. Are you going to break something? Because if you are, just let me know and I’ll leave,” Charles asks calmly, making your blood boil.

“I’ll break you, idiot!” you say, throwing a pillow at him, which he just catches.

“Look how bold you are,” Charles laughs, and you huff.

“Go to hell.” Your voice is quieter now. “What kind of idiot enters someone’s room uninvited?”

He ignores the provocation and gets closer, throwing himself on the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Stressing yourself out alone won’t help anything, you know?” You squint your eyes at his words.

“Since when do you care about what I do?” He doesn’t answer right away. He just watches you, like he’s analyzing every expression.

“Since when did you stop hating me?” Charles says, and in that instant, you freeze.

And Charles notices.

His gaze locks on you for a second that’s too long, and for the first time, there’s something beyond rivalry there.

You look away, feeling your heart race in a way that annoys you deeply.

“Go screw yourself,” you say, still not looking at him, and Charles laughs softly.

“You’ve said that before, Y/n.”

He stands up and walks towards the door. But before leaving, he throws one last provocation:

“Try not to think too much about me, Y/n.”

And then, he leaves, leaving you even more confused and furious than before, not knowing what to respond.

( . . . )

The tension between you two grows to an unbearable point. Everything explodes in a tense practice, where Charles makes an aggressive move, and Y/n nearly hits the wall.

When you both get out of the cars, she goes straight to him in the pit lane, pushing him in the chest.

“What’s your problem?! You could’ve slammed me into the wall!”

Charles grabs her wrists, stopping her from pushing him again.

“You’re shaking. Are you scared, Y/n?” he asks, almost choking on the words.

You pull your arms forcefully, your face burning with anger.

“I will NEVER be afraid of you!”

He leans in slightly, closing the distance between them.

“Then why is your heart beating so fast?”

You pale.

Charles smiles.

You’re so angry that you almost punch him right there. But instead, you just glare at him with hatred and walk away.

But, for the first time, that hatred doesn’t feel so simple.

( . . . )

After that fight, Charles pulls back a bit. He stops provoking her so much, but Y/n misses it. This deeply irritates her.

Until one night, before an important race, she finds him alone in the pits, sitting with his arms crossed, staring at the car.

Without thinking, you approach him.

“So, you think sometimes too. I thought you only talked nonsense.” You say, stopping beside him.

Charles smiles, but doesn’t make a joke.

“Hey, what’s up, idiot? You’re way too quiet.” Her question makes him sigh.

You frown.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be tough,” Charles murmurs.

She frowns.

“You always say that, and in the end, you go speeding like there’s no tomorrow.” You respond, rolling your eyes, stating the obvious.

He lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his face.

“This time it’s weird. I’ve been feeling bad since yesterday, like I have a fever or something.” His words make you worry, but you don’t show it.

“What?”

“If they find out, they won’t let me race. So you’re the only one who knows, and if you tell anyone, you’re done.” He says jokingly, and you cross your arms, skeptical.

“So you’re gonna hide this until you pass out in the car? Great plan.”

Charles gives a slight smile.

“I thought you’d like the idea. If I pass out, you can finally get first place.” You roll your eyes, but inside, you feel a strange tightness in your chest. He was really sick. And still, he was there, ready to race.

You sigh. You didn’t understand why this feeling of worry, especially since, above all, you hated each other, right? Of course, you hated each other, and could never be friends.

“You’re an idiot. But a fast idiot.” Charles turns his face to Y/n, surprised by the concern.

“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Charles says sincerely, and you just roll your eyes as if you hadn’t said anything, but the truth was that you were really “kind,” and you didn’t understand why.

“Don’t get used to it,” you say bluntly.

But when you leave, you hate admitting that something between you two has changed.

And you didn’t know what it was.

( . . . )

The heat inside the car was suffocating, and Charles felt the sweat trickling down his neck as he gripped the steering wheel tightly. His body felt heavy, the fever draining his strength, but he couldn’t back down.

On the radio, the voice of the team sounded distant.

“Charles, how are the conditions?” The engineer asks, as usual.

He presses the radio button, trying to sound normal.

“Everything’s under control.”

Lie.

Nothing was under control, and Charles knew it, but he couldn’t admit it. The race seemed to last longer than expected, every corner demanding more from him than he was used to. His vision seemed blurry at times, but he was already here, and there was no way to quit.

A few laps later, Y/n had already noticed something was wrong. She saw Henrique in the rearview mirror, struggling more than usual to keep pace. He wasn’t driving with his usual aggression.

“Shit, he’s worse than he seemed yesterday,” you think to yourself, growing concern building up.

You grip the steering wheel, frustrated with yourself. Why were you worrying about him?

On lap 38, a mistake. Small, but enough.

Charles brakes too late in a corner and ends up sliding, losing position to Y/n. You pass him, but, when glancing at the car beside you, you see his hand trembling on the steering wheel.

He won’t make it through the entire race.

Y/n’s engineer’s voice comes through the radio:

“Good job, P2 now. Keep pushing the leader.” Your engineer says happily, but you weren’t on the same level of happiness.

You should be satisfied. But, for the first time, you weren’t.

When the race ends, Charles can barely get out of the car. As soon as his feet hit the ground, his legs give out. The fever, the exhaustion… everything hit him at once. He stumbles a little, trying to hide it, but before he can fall, someone catches him.

You.

You hold his arm firmly, preventing him from collapsing right there.

“I knew you were gonna do this shit,” you say, irritated.

Charles lets out a weak laugh.

“And I knew you’d catch me if I fell.” Charles says, cocky, making you roll your eyes, but you don’t let go of his arm.

The journalists notice the scene and begin to approach with cameras and microphones, sniffing out an interesting moment.

Before anyone can ask anything, Y/n steps forward, blocking Charles from their view.

“No questions right now. He needs rest.” You say firmly, but the journalists don’t leave.

Charles looks at you, surprised by the attitude. He didn’t expect this from you, not really.

You look at him.

“Come on, before I regret helping you.” You say, helping him again, making his body lean against yours.

Charles smiles lightly, liking the idea of being close to you.

“That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You sigh, impatient.

“I swear, if you say that again…” you say, impatient, but a slight blush creeping onto your face. Thankfully, you could say it was because of the race.

Charles laughs, but inside, he feels that something between you two has changed.

( . . . )

The deafening roar of the engines had faded, replaced by the cheers and applause of the crowd. You had won. Your first victory in Formula 1.

It was a dream come true, beyond just proving your ability and strength to everyone. You were radiant like never before, a genuine smile on your face.

You were on the podium, holding the trophy, champagne dripping through your fingers. Max and Lando, beside you, were smiling, but you could barely process anything. The world seemed like a blur of emotions and adrenaline. Your first victory after racing against rumors and trying to prove you were capable. And even more so, you were beside people you could trust and count on forever.

It was so rewarding.

The podium ceremony and trophy presentation, you couldn’t have been happier. Lando and Max, without excitement, sprayed champagne on you, celebrating.

When you were finally ready for interviews, you felt someone pull you by the wrist to a secluded spot.

You had seen this scene before, and your heart sank.

“Lando, please don’t tell me it’s another fake news about me,” you murmur sadly, and when you turn, you see Charles.

He says nothing. He just looks at you with an intensity that makes you forget all the confusion around you.

“You did it.” His voice is quieter than you imagined, but there’s a genuine smile on Charles’ face. You laugh, sighing.

“I did it, didn’t I? This is crazy. Doesn’t even feel real!” you say, like a child who just got a candy. You’re so happy, and it captivates your rival.

Charles hesitates for a second. You notice he wants to say something else, but at the last moment, he just smiles and pulls you into a tight, unexpected hug.

This time, you don’t resist and hug him back.

You both pull away from the hug, and the adrenaline runs through your body. Until you hear someone call your name, you quickly say a “see you later” to Charles and leave him there alone, thinking.

Charles’ heart hurt when he saw your fear that there might be more bad news about you.

It was clear Charles had been a jerk to you since he entered Formula 1, but he really didn’t understand why.

Maybe it was because pretending to hate you was easier than saying he loved you.

But he felt guilty instantly when he saw you broken, crying on Lando’s shoulder, when he saw you more vulnerable than ever.

He hated everyone who made you cry, and from that day on, he made a promise to himself: he didn’t want to be that kind of person.

The team decided to celebrate the win with a dinner. Everyone was there – the engineers, the drivers, even some members of the media. You were sitting next to Lando, listening to some nonsense joke he was telling, but you could feel a gaze on you.

When you looked up, there he was.

Charles, across the table, holding a glass, watching you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

His eyes didn’t shift, not even when you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to say something.

And then, he smiled.

Small, discreet, but the kind of smile that made something inside you tremble.

You swallow hard and look away.

Damn it.

You turn back to Lando to hide it, but soon laugh at a completely absurd joke, laughing the same way Lando did at his own joke.

Later that night, you were outside the restaurant, enjoying the fresh air. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and the muffled sound of the celebration still echoed from inside.

“Running away from your own party?” You jump, startled, as soon as you hear someone behind you.

But as soon as you recognize the familiar voice, your heart skips a beat. You slowly turn around, and Charles is there, hands in his pockets, that intense look again.

“I just needed a moment.” You reply, looking away from Charles, now staring at the ground.

He nods and steps closer, stopping beside you. The silence between you two feels different now. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not easy to ignore either. When you look up again and look at Charles beside you, your heart skips.

Then, he extends his hand and, without warning, brushes a strand of hair from your face.

Your body stiffens. The touch is brief, but the skin where he touched feels like it’s burning. You see when Charles notices. You see when he finally understands.

And then, he smiles again.

“This might be a problem,” Charles says, looking at you with a smile. You just breathe deeply and nod, now looking away at the view in front of you. You can feel Charles staring at you.

( . . . )

In the next race, everything seemed normal. Or at least, it should have been.

You were talking with Lando and Max in the paddock, laughing at some silly thing Lando had just said. The atmosphere was light and relaxed, until you felt that gaze again.

Charles.

He was just a few meters away, arms crossed, listening to an engineer speak, but clearly not paying attention. His gaze was fixed on you. You did everything to hide the nervousness he caused, but your cheeks flushed slightly, and once again, your heart was faltering. You tried to focus on the conversation between the two drivers in front of you, but you failed miserably.

When your eyes met, something shifted. Your breath stopped in your throat, and time seemed to slow down. The only thing you could hear was your heart racing.

He squinted his eyes, as if irritated, leaving you confused. You raised an eyebrow and turned back to your friends. After a few minutes, you felt someone tap your shoulder.

You turned around and saw the person you really wanted to avoid.

“Y/n, can we talk?” Charles said, sounding irritated. You were confused and choked on your own saliva. Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the interruption. Lando looked at you, puzzled, then looked at Max.

“Now?” You asked, suspicious.

“Now,” Charles said firmly, and you nodded, with no real option.

You said goodbye to the others and followed him to a more secluded spot. Charles took a deep breath, as if trying to find the right words, but in the end, he just blurted out:

“What were you doing with them?” He said bluntly, and you blinked, surprised. You opened your mouth and closed it, not knowing what to say.

“Excuse me?” You responded, still in shock.

“What were you doing with them? Max and Lando,” Charles repeated, moving a little closer to make sure he heard you right. You laughed in disbelief.

“Talking? Laughing? Ever heard of that?” You said, obviously crossing your arms.

He didn’t laugh. He remained serious.

“With Max? With Lando?” He asked again, and you tilted your head, still a little lost in all of this.

“Yes. What’s the problem?” You said innocently, and Charles thought it was cute, but then remembered why he was there.

Charles ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

“The problem is that…” He stopped in the middle of the sentence, closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, now with a determined glint.

“Forget it.” The driver in front of you took a step forward. Now, you were so close that you could smell him, a mix of fuel and expensive cologne. Charles turned around to leave, but you grabbed his wrist, freezing him in place.

“What’s wrong, Charles?” You whispered, your voice softer than you intended.

He hesitated for a moment. But only for a moment.

Then he murmured:

“I don’t like seeing you with them, I don’t know.” Charles shrugged. Your heart raced.

And for the first time, you saw in his eyes what you had only suspected before.

And you stood there for a while, just looking at each other. You sighed, half enjoying the confession, but it made you even more lost.

Then, without warning, Charles stepped closer, and again, you smelled him. You were only a few centimeters apart.

“C-Charles?” You called him.

“Yes?”

“What is this?” You asked, but completely lost in the proximity.

He didn’t answer. He just took a step forward, closing the distance between you. His hand found your face, hesitant at first, but firm enough for you to feel the warmth against your skin.

And then, without waiting any longer, Charles kissed you.

It wasn’t a rushed or uncertain kiss. It was something intense, charged with everything that had been hanging in the air for so long—unspoken teasing, glances that lasted a little too long, words never said but always felt.

You kissed him back without thinking. One of your hands grabbed his shirt, as if you needed something to hold on to. The other found his neck, feeling how he leaned in even more toward you.

The world around you disappeared.

It was just him. Just the two of you.

And when you finally pulled away, your faces still close, your breaths mixing, Charles smiled. That crooked, teasing smile, but now it was different—there was something more there now.

“Now tell me… are you still going to pretend this means nothing?”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you didn’t look away. With a small smile, he gently ran his thumb across your cheek before adding, almost like a whisper:

“Because I can’t, I can’t pretend and deny what I feel for you, Y/n.”

( . . . )

The tension between you two had only grown since that conversation, that kiss. You couldn’t deny your mood had undoubtedly improved.

Now, minutes before the race start, you were on the grid, mentally reviewing the strategy, trying to concentrate. But your mind kept drifting back to Charles.

Then, he appeared. The red suit, the determined eyes, but at the same time… different.

He approached without hesitation.

“Good luck, Y/n,” you loved the way he said your name.

You smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do I need it?” You asked, laughing, and Charles smiled.

He shrugged.

“No. But I needed an excuse.”

You furrowed your brow.

“An excuse for what?” You asked innocently again, and Charles smiled.

And then, again, without warning, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Not a full kiss. Just a touch, a test.

But it was enough to take your breath away.

Before you could react, he was already pulling away, putting on his helmet, and heading to his car. He turned to you and winked.

You stood there, frozen.

Lando, who had seen everything, whistled. You looked at him, lost, your face turning as red as a tomato.

“That was interesting,” he said, crossing his arms. You hit his arm.

Lando laughed and raised an eyebrow. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what, Norris?” You said impatiently.

“That you two are… like this,” he pointed to you and then to Charles.

“Like what?”

“Like this!” Lando said, and you rolled your eyes. “Come on, Y/n, you used to hate each other, and now he comes and kisses you in front of everyone, not even embarrassed.”

You couldn’t respond, just shrugged.

Because, in that moment, one thing became absolutely clear.

This was no longer a game.

( . . . )

You won.

Again.

But this time, the only thing you wanted wasn’t to lift the trophy or spray champagne.

It was to find Charles.

And he knew that.

As soon as the ceremony ended, you felt a hand on your wrist. He pulled you into a corner, away from the cameras, the journalists, any distractions.

His eyes were shining, but it wasn’t just from the race.

“How many more times are we going to pretend this isn’t happening?” Your chest tightened because you knew exactly what he meant.

You exhaled, a small smile forming on your lips.

“I think it’s already enough, right? You kissed me in front of everyone, I don’t think we need to pretend anymore.” You said, smiling like a happy little girl.

His smile grew, full of something new—certainty.

“Good.” And this time, when he leaned in, there were no doubts, hesitations, or teasing.

This time, it was real. And you knew there was no turning back, so you continued.

Charles pulled back and kissed your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, looking at you with love.

“I want to hear that from you.” Charles said, holding your hand.

“Hear what?” You said, pretending not to understand, and Charles groaned, throwing his head back.

“If we’re going to be like this, I’ll say it first. Before anything, I want to apologize for being such a jerk. I thought pretending to hate you was easier than telling you how much I like you.” Charles sighed, and you felt like you were floating. Your heart leaped with joy, and the only thing you could do was hug him, so you did.

“It’s okay, Charles. This can stay in the past.” You said, still hugging him. Charles let go of you and held your waist firmly. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

“And besides, I think I like you a little too.”

“A little?” He complained, pretending to be offended.

“Yes, just a little.” You said, showing with your fingers how small the amount was. Charles laughed and gave you a quick kiss.

“You’re going to be my downfall, Y/n.” Charles said, and you kissed him.

[justmeforeverlive]

Across the universes

Hi! This my first fic dedicated to the MCU fantastic four. It's set in the multiverse of madness. Mainly Johnny x reader but it'll include the rest of the FF. Enjoy!

You were fighting along side Dr. Strange, trying to stop Wanda from getting the Darkhold, opening portals left and right that lead to different universes, the situation was escalating quickly. You almost got a hold of the book, when a red blaster from the former Avenger sent you flying from a cross the room. While losing consciousness, the Scarlet Witch voice echoed in your mind:

¨If you knew there was a universe where you were happy, wouldn’t you wanna go there?¨

A bright white light was the first thing you noticed when you came to it, the second thing was a funny looking machine hooked onto your arm. Pushing your body forward, the hospital room came into view. Why were you there? Did the fight ended up so bad you couldn’t remember getting to the hospital?

You were so focused in your own thoughts, you didn’t hear the door opening

“Miss Y/L/N? I’m glad to see you’re awake, I’m doctor Roan and I’ve been treating you since your arrival”

“How long have I’ve been here?

“3 days, you didn’t suffer major injuries that we could detect but the fact it took so long for you to regain full awareness, is enough to be concerning, so we’re gonna be taking some tests if that is okay with you?

You accepted in hopes to leave faster, but before reaching the door, doctor Roan said:

“By the way, we’ve called your family, they must be here in any moment”

That sentence was enough for all the alarms in your head to start ringing. You had no family left, that’s why Stephen Strange was willing to take you in as his apprentice/side kick, so either they are confusing you with someone else or the most likely option: you were in one of the many alternative universes Wanda had unleash during the fight.

Fuck, you had leave this place immediately, the more time you spend in another reality, the more consequences it would bring to the natural order. Carefully you unwrapped yourself from the hospital stuff and were about to use some of it to make it out of the window, when a loud gasp made you turn.

A blonde woman had rushed to your side, preventing you from successfully escaping the room. You tried to brushed her off gently but your body was still sluggish after spending days laying on a bed, so instead of freeing yourself from her grasp, all you managed to do was loosing balance and both of you ended on the floor.

“Ow, Y/N, are you OK? Can you stand? Her voice was slightly panicked due to your lack of response, she turned her head and said:

“Johnny, don’t just stand there, come help me!”

The guy in question was frozen in place, looking at you in disbelief and if the whole situation wasn’t as freaky as it was, you might have blushed by having such a handsome man staring at you.

Sensing the awkwardness, a change of tactic seemed to be needed, so maybe if you deflected enough, they’ll go away.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine really, just a little out of it, but I’ll sleep it off. Maybe you can come back tomorrow”  

She frowned, apparently that was the wrong thing to say

“Y/N, we’re not gonna leave you here alone, we were so worried about you” she tried to reach for a strand of your hair but the sudden movement made you flinch. She seemed hurt by your reaction but it was quickly replaced with suspicion.

“You… know who we are right?”

A beat passed. The blue eyed guy seemed to finally catch up with the conversation cause he sat right next you and studied your face carefully.

“You don’t remember me?” He sounded so devastated, like a piece of him had been ripped apart, staring at you in hopes of rekindling a sense of recognition that simply doesn’t exist.

“I’m sorry”

[dock57]

[Shout out to Havoc for asking this question, because I never stop thinking about it since. Ever since Us & Them, at the end when Beebs stopped Us from apologizing, rubbing his neck going on to say "I've been there once or twice," has always got me wondering if or who Beebs may have lost in his life? This is the first time we get an indication that there is something that Beebs perhaps feels guilty for or regrets? Something that troubles his past. I think in a server we all discussed who could it be that Beebs may have lost?

I remember once thinking of a past lover, since it was also once asked if either Shrike or Beebs have been in a relationship. From this question I came across:

As always, the answers are vague (or unhinged and I love that) but it leaves you to wonder if this the one that Beebs may have lost? By episode three, so far we are not given much information of who that person might be that Beebs' has lost. Then again, perhaps it could mean something entirely different?

Then we have episode four, Plague Walkers. Episode four has given us an introduction, or revealing of Beebs' past. We gotten some bits and pieces to Shrike's lore, being possibly the last of his kind and being an ex LAW official enforcer. Beeb's lore has been a slow develop, and that's not something I have any issue with. I'm actually happy that the show is taking its time with pacing as that's something I miss from shows of today. So in episode four, we finally get a hint of where Beebs' come from. From the reactions, expressions, and how Beebs response to being with Ajax really shows how effected Beebs is by his past.

Something that comes up often between Ajax and Beebs' interactions is the mentioning of Beebs' parents. Now another suggested person that may have been lost to Beebs could have been his father. Before EP 4, I also thought that perhaps his father was the one he lost? I cannot remember an exact reason as to why, perhaps from the previews of EP 4 gave a suggested idea that it may have been Beebs' father when we first meet Ajax who also speaks as if "Barrack" house, his father, was once a great man- one with strong genes, of course.

But then we get to this scene, and judging from how Ajax speaks about Beeb's father here, it suggests that his father is still alive. How well? Who knows, but still alive, but perhaps not so "alive" in Beebs life.

When Ajax mentions that his father never recovered, gives me the impression that whatever happen between Beebs and his father, left not only a dent in their relationship, but also to Beeb's father as well as in he is still recovering from whatever traumatic experience that happen to the two of them. I would think it would be odd to say how he has never recovered for someone who could already be deceased. Because no one will ever recover from the dead...

So then I been thinking... What if its Beebs' mother?

I noticed that the one that tends to make Beebs' reaction the most is whenever Ajax mentions Beebs' mother. From the beginning of the episode, the mentioning of the mistakes made on the mothers side- that HIT Beebs there and center, but at the dinner as well? That comment from Ajax almost made Beebs lose his cool. I'm selecting now that Beebs' mother is the one he lost. I think Beebs had a closer bond to his mother, possibly the parent he related to more? Anything to do with his father, Beebs seems to show irritation or some form of stress when his name is mentioned. Such as when Beebs had to state which house he is from- being a Barrack- Beebs show no side of pride of having that name or being related to it. But his mother... when Ajax kept insulting his mother, that really seem to hit home for Beebs. The relationship that Beebs must have had with her... sharing perhaps how Beebs has almost like "runt" like traits to the family. The littlest one of the house. How it came from his mother side... There could be a good chance that what Beebs is holding regret for might be the lost of her, and maybe holds resentment to his father? Perhaps something that Beebs and his father got in an argument about? Or maybe an event occurred where Beebs or his father was responsible for her lost but neither of them can confront the truth?

At this point I am spit balling ideas. But until we get more lore on Beebs' past, I think his mother could have been the one he lost. Then again, this show has so far surprise me! But, its fun to try and think of theories. I'm not the best at it, but I like to wonder and analyze as well, I suppose!

Noticed I seem to ramble the most about Beebs- can you tell how much I love him? Enjoy one of my favorite screenshots of Beebs- Goodbye!]

[i-dared-myself]

The Bet

Seungmin x reader x Bang Chan

In which Seungmin has something to prove and no respect

18+ This is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written (Yet, heheh. I have something else sitting in my drafts) so BE WARNED. This contains some mxm so if you’re not comfortable you’re more than welcome to move on

“Weird,” you mutter to yourself as you walk through your front door. Usually you are the last one home, but it seems like the apartment is empty tonight.

“Hello?” you call as you kick your shoes off. “Seungmin? Chan?”

When no response comes, you text them quickly. You’re slightly worried, but it’s not completely unheard of for their jobs to keep them late.

You grab a set of pans and put them on the stove, bringing out ingredients for dinner too. It isn’t your night to cook, but being helpful never hurts.

Your phone dings from where you left it on the counter. You check it to see that Seungmin messaged saying he and Chan are almost home.

You open a bottle of wine, just needing something to relax with. As you pour a glass the door slams open.

“Seungmin?” Your eyebrows knit together in concern as your boyfriend storms right up to you. His fingers curl through your hair and he bends you over the kitchen counter, cheek squishing against the cold marble. “What are you-“

“Shh,” he coos gently. Seungmin presses up against you, body heavy against yours. “I’ll fuck you so good that you can’t walk straight for days after. How does that sound?”

You grope at the counter in shock, hands clenching and unclenching. “Seungmin? What are you- Where’s Chan?”

“Right here, baby,” Chan says as he shuts the door. It clicks behind him before he wanders closer. “Need something? My cock, maybe?”

“What are you both doing?” you demand. “Seungmin! Chan! Explain yourselves!”

“Seungmin and I made a little bet,” Chan tells you as he rolls up his sleeves, exposing the skin of his forearms. “He thinks he can be a better dom than me.”

“And how do I come into this?” You squirm back against Seungmin. “I don’t see how it’s my problem.”

“We’re gonna test it on you.” Seungmin rolls his hips into you experimentally. “So who do you want to fuck you first? Me, or whiny Chan? He’s so tired today I don’t think he’ll even be able to get it up…”

“Watch it!” Chan snaps. “I’ll bend you over my lap, bet or no bet.”

Seungmin snorts and drags you over to the couch. “Who will it be, baby? Me, or old man Bang?”

Chan huffs. “Second strike, Seungmin. There’s still respect that needs to be upheld.”

“You first.” You lean up to kiss Seungmin, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. He eagerly returns the affection, pressing against you. 

You scoot further down the couch so there’s more room for him. Seungmin takes his place between your legs, throwing a pillow away.

“By the time I’m done with you, it’ll be past the old man’s bedtime.” Seungmin’s eyes glint mischievously as he slips a hand down your pants. His index finger finds your clit and circles it once, then twice before he adds, “I’ll fuck you again for him.”

Chan suddenly grips Seungmin’s hair and rips him away from you. The other man lets out a short cry as he’s tossed to the other side of the couch.

“Chan!” you protest as you reach for Seungmin. “He was about to fuck me!”

“Not anymore.” Chan grins at you, all dimples and joy before he turns to Seungmin, and it fades away. Now he’s angry and sexy, and you want him so bad.

You huff and scoot up further against the arm of the couch. “Well I was promised sex, and I don’t care who does it, as long as someone gives it to me.”

Chan laughs as he fists Seungmin’s hair, dragging him off the couch. He forces his head down to the floor until Seungmin’s cheek is smushed.

“Really?” Chan looks down at him with an eyebrow raised. His eyes glint darkly. “That’s the best you can arch your back?”

Seungmin struggles to lift his head, eventually just spitting out, “Fuck you.”

“Ah, so he’s in one of those moods.” Chan glances over his shoulder at you. “I bet he didn’t even want to dom you. He just wanted to fight me a little bit.”

You nod in agreement, sprawling out on the furniture. “Probably. He always likes his punishments. More so than rewards.”

Chan smiles at you softly, his hand still clasped tightly around Seungmin’s wrists. “Can you go bring me the cuffs, baby? Then I’ll give you what you want.”

You nod and rush off to the drawer that they’re kept in. You pass them to Chan and watch as Seungmin’s hands are restrained behind his back.

“There you go.” Chan pats Seungmin’s cheek condescendingly. “Now you can’t touch yourself either.”

Seungmin pushes himself up to a sitting position, glowering at Chan. His gaze flicks to you before back to him. “Come on! All I did was tease a little!”

Chan hooks his arms under Seungmin’s armpits and drags him to the corner, chuckling when Seungmin tries to bite him. “It’s the lack of respect, Seungmin. If I’m going to let you fuck her-“

“She’s my girlfriend too!” Seungmin protests.

“There have to be rules,” Chan finishes. “Such as respecting me, and no talking back. Now, I’m going to fuck her, and then if you’re lucky and I’m in a good mood, I’ll let you have her.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes defiantly. “You just wanted to go first before it was your bedtime, didn’t you? You could’ve just said, old man.”

Chan smiles and laces his hand together. “Is that right? You really think so?”

Seungmin hums in confirmation. “Yeah. I know that you can’t fuck her good enough.”

Chan’s expression is still light-hearted, which is what scares you the most. He has a lot of patience, but when it’s worn out he snaps hard.

“I’ve changed my mind on what’s happening tonight,” Chan declares. He looks back at you pleasantly. “Undress.”

You cross your arms. “Do I have a say in this?”

Chan turns his gaze to you. “Do you not want us?”

You shift. “Okay fine, I do.”

“Then undress while I take care of him.” Chan points his chin to Seungmin. “We can’t just leave him there to watch. Might as well give him something to struggle with.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen a bit and you can see his throat flex as he swallows. You’re not worried. He knows his signals for if it’s too much and needs to stop.

You hear a bottle cap being uncapped, but don’t pay it much mind. You strip out of your pants and shirt, quickly discarding of your undergarments.

When you turn around, Seungmin is propped up naked over the arm of the couch, Chan behind him. Seungmin’s mouth is parted and you can see his hands trying to grab at something.

You peek around his body to see Chan’s fingers working him open. You reach down to run your fingers through Seungmin’s hair soothingly.

“Is it good?” you ask him. You bend down to kiss his open mouth, smiling when he kisses you back. “Feel full, baby?”

Seungmin tries to respond, but Chan adds another digit and he cuts himself off with a whine. You laugh lightly and peer down at what Chan’s doing.

“Can you do me a favour, baby?” Chan looks up at you through his lashes. “Can you shut him up, please? This isn’t supposed to make him feel good, just to get him ready.”

“Sure.” You plunge two of your fingers into Seungmin’s mouth until they make him gag. 

Chan chuckles. “That just made him clench on me.” He kisses Seungmin’s shoulder. “Did you like that?”

Seungmin nods as best as he can. Drool is pooling in the corners of his mouth around your fingers.

You give an experimental thrust of your fingers between his lips. Seungmin gurgles but lets a moan out. You debate adding a third finger but decide against it, not wanting to push him too hard today.

Chan pulls his hand away and presses a plug into Seungmin. “There you go, baby.”

You remove your fingers and wipe the spit off of them onto Seungmin’s face. “Is it my turn yet?”

“Yes.” Chan flashes you an expression of fond exasperation. He wrenches Seungmin off the armrest and back to the floor. “Give me a second.”

You sigh impatiently and roll your eyes. “I swear it’s been like two hours since I was promised sex. If I don’t get someone’s dick soon I’m leaving.”

“It’s not too late to come over here.” Seungmin’s cheeks are flushed pink along with the tips of his ears. His cock is hard and you know Chan’s going to make him wait a while for any form of release.

“Come here,” Chan calls from the couch. “I’ll let you ride me.”

You hurry over to him, ignoring Seungmin’s indignant cry. You don’t want to end up in the same position as him.

Maybe you do a little, but you also just want something now.

“Aren’t you going to take your clothes off?” you complain once you’re standing in front of Chan.

He tilts your chin up so he can kiss you. “Patience.”

As Chan shuffles out of his clothes, you watch Seungmin. He’s squirming, trying to get friction on his dick. He’s facing you, and you wish you could see the plug spreading him open.

“Baby.” Chan brings your knuckles to his lips and places a soft kiss to them. “Ignore him. If he wanted attention he should’ve respected me.”

You force your gaze away and back to Chan. He’s nude now, and you eagerly straddle his lap.

“Wait,” Chan laughs, “you need prep first.”

“No I don’t,” you protest, “I’m wet. I’m dripping. Please!”

His hands go to your hips and pull you down so you’re straddling his thighs. “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What? And I’m fine to hurt?” Seungmin scoffs. “I still have bruises on my ass from when I called you a bitch!”

“I give you plenty of warnings,” Chan gently reminds him. “And you’re not supposed to be talking right now.”

“Please.” You bring Chan’s attention back to you. “Just hurry up already!”

Chan sighs. “Fine. But I’ll stop if you need me to.”

Then he’s guiding his cock to your cunt and very slowly entering you. You throw your head back at the stretch and the feeling of fullness. 

He stops, keeping you in place like that. You glare down at him, unamused.

“Why?” you demand. “I’ve been kept waiting forever!”

“Just relax.” Chan strokes your hair. “We didn’t prep you and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You grumble, but place your head in the crook of his neck. His chest rumbles with a barely contained laugh when your eyes flutter as he shifts.

“Okay,” you eventually murmur, “I’m ready.”

“Let me know if we need to stop.” Chan adjusts how he’s sitting so you’re have more room to move. A groan rips itself from his throat at your first bounce.

You can feel Seungmin’s eyes on you as you ride Chan. Chan’s hand tighten on your waist, but he lets you control the movements.

One of his hands drops to toy with your clit. The lazy circles it draws makes you squeeze around him, causing him to shudder.

“You close yet?” Chan asks. “Close to cumming around my cock?”

You bite your lip. “Maybe. Just need-“

He rolls his hips upwards to meet you when you sink down on him. Your orgasm washes over you and you let out muffled sounds against Chan’s torso, burying your face against him.

“That’s it,” Chan croons. “So good, not letting Seungmin see your pretty face as you cum.”

You flutter around him at his words, blinking your eyes open to see his face. His eyebrows are pulled together as he continues to thrust into you.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Chan promises lowly. His eyes are cloudy with lust, focused on your expressions. “Come on, do it again. I know you can.”

His fingers are still working at your clit, sending sparks to reignite the fire at your core. You mouth at his collarbone, preventing any of your moans to reach Seungmin’s ears. 

Then you’re somehow falling over the edge again, so close to your first. Chan pulls out and leaves you to clench around nothing, making you mourn the fullness that just had.

“Seungmin,” Chan calls softly, “why don’t you come over here?”

You notice Chan hadn’t filled you, still hard. You’re confused for a moment before Chan’s manhandling you and your mind goes blank.

You’re dragged to the floor as Seungmin shuffles closer on his knees. Seungmin looks to Chan expectantly, finally behaving.

Chan reaches out to cup Seungmin’s cheek. “You finally get to fuck her now. If you make her cum, you’ll get your release. But if you cum first…” Chan glances to you. “What do you think, baby?”

You swallow thickly as your thighs are forced apart by Chan’s hands. “No sex for a month?”

Chan nods before facing Seungmin again. “You hear that?”

“Yes. I understand.” Seungmin blinks. “I’ve got this.”

“Good.” Chan, seemingly satisfied, lifts Seungmin and lays him atop you. Seungmin’s hands are still restrained behind his back and the plug is still in him. “Go ahead.”

“I- I can’t-“ Seungmin’s hips shift as he tries to find your entrance. He lifts his head to look down at your eyes, cheeks flushed.

“You can’t what?” Chan looms over the two of you. 

“I-“ Seungmin squeezes his eyes shut. “I can’t find her pussy.”

Chan coos. “Oh, is that right? Need my help?”

Seungmin nods, his naked body pressing against yours harder as he tries again to press into you.

“Use your words.” Chan rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek. 

“Please?” Seungmin begs. “I just- I need- Please!”

“Shh.” Chan’s hands go to Seungmin’s hips and align him with your cunt. “It’s okay.”

Seungmin whines as he enters you. His eyes rolls back as he finally gets stimulation. 

“Are you going to fuck her or not?” Chan settles on the couch, raising an eyebrow. “This is what you wanted, right? Don’t tell me you can’t make her feel good.”

Seungmin’s hips make a desperate thrust into you, but it’s not as smooth as Chan’s. He’s making whiny little sounds as he stutters through the movements.

Your hands go up to his hair, tugging hard. “Seungmin! Do it properly!”

“I’m trying,” he whines, hiding his face against your throat. “I- I’m trying!”

You try to buck your hips up, but his body weight prevents you from doing so. You’re trapped and at his mercy, and he can barely maneuver his body with his hands restrained.

“I don’t think she’s even close,” Chan taunts. He sounds as if he’s taking great joy in this. “Is that all you’re good for? Humping her until you cum?”

Seungmin blinks back frustrated tears. “N-No! I-“ He moans as your walls flutter around him, effectively silencing him.

“Make her cum.” Chan slides off the couch and kneels next to the two of you. “You can do that, can’t you? You made such a fuss about how you were a better dom than me after all.”

Seungmin makes eye contact with you again, mouth falling open. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get enough leverage to properly thrust into you. When he opens his eyes, tears bubble out of them.

Chan taps the plug in Seungmin, causing the man to jerk. “Would it help if I fucked you? Would my momentum fuck you into her? Or would it just make you cum immediately?”

“No. I can do this,” Seungmin slurs as Chan tugs at the plug until it’s at his rim, stretching him at to the max. “I- Just let me-“

You have enough and reach down to your clit. “I can’t believe I have to do it myself.”

“Did you hear that?” Chan places his hands on Seungmin’s hips. “I fucked her better.”

Seungmin and you both let out cries as Chan guides Seungmin into you. With your own hand at your clit, and actually having a rhythm with Seungmin’s cock, you can feel yourself getting close.

Seungmin’s hands are clawing for anything to grab at as Chan moves his hips for him. Chan takes pity on him and undoes the cuffs, and Seungmin immediately wraps his arms around you.

You arch up to kiss Seungmin, swallowing his whines. He eagerly returns the affection and allows you to slip your tongue in his mouth.

Then you’re having your third orgasm, moaning. Seungmin is wrenched away from you, his eyes glazed over as his dick spurts onto your pussy.

You shiver at the missing warmth as his body is maneuvered away from you. He’s bent over the couch, clutching at anything he can as the plug is eased from him. He lets out another pathetic whimper as it pops free.

Chan kisses his forehead, cleaning him up fondly. You’re given similar treatment before being tucked in next to Seungmin, watching as Chan goes off to grab some water.

“Doing okay?” you ask Seungmin, running a hand through his hair.

He hums sleepily, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah. Sorry I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay. I had fun,” you assure him. Chan returns and hands you both glasses of water. “Did you not…?”

Chan clears his throat, looking away. “I did when you two were messing around.”

“Ah.” You nod and sip at your drink. “Well next time you make one of those bets, I want in. I think I could do pretty good.”

Taglist (Open):

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche

[be4chywritez]

shot to the heart (and the nose) | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

You come from college and Luke is smitten...maybe a little too smitten

beachy’s masterlist🐚

requests are open!

Growing up next door to the Hughes family meant one thing—hockey was a religion.

It was loud, it was competitive, and it was everywhere. If the Hughes brothers weren’t on the ice, they were playing in the driveway, tracking in mud from the lake, or tossing pucks against the garage door until Ellen threatened to take their sticks away.

And you?

You were the neighbor kid. Not quite in the mix, but not completely out of it either.

Your families were close—vacations together, barbecues in the summer, Christmas parties in the winter. You and the Hughes boys had spent years at each other’s birthday parties, running through sprinklers, roasting marshmallows, and competing over who could eat the most popsicles before Jim made you all go inside.

But if hockey was the Hughes brothers’ thing, quiet was yours.

Luke, in particular, had always been the opposite of quiet. He was the one making up rules for backyard games, the one yelling over everyone else, the one who would get so frustrated when you’d rather sit and watch than dive into the chaos.

He never bullied you for it, not in the way other kids might have, but he pushed—nudging you toward the action, insisting you could keep up, making sure you weren’t left out.

Jack and Quinn weren’t much different. Jack, the natural show-off, would always try to impress you (even if you weren’t watching), and Quinn, forever the responsible older brother, would make sure you didn’t get completely trampled by their energy.

Then, of course, you all grew up.

You spent high school buried in books and extracurriculars, aiming for an Ivy League acceptance letter. Luke spent it on the ice, chasing the NHL dream.

By senior year, your friendship had faded into nothing more than polite nods and see you at Christmas waves across the room.

And then you left for college.

Luke got drafted.

Life moved on.

Coming home after months at school was weird.

The air smelled the same, the roads felt the same, but you didn’t feel the same. Maybe it was the time away, or maybe it was the fact that being home again made you realize just how much things had changed.

The car rumbled up your street, your mom chatting about how good it is to have you back while you stared out the window.

And across the driveway, in the Hughes' kitchen, three heads turned in unison.

Jack was the first to react. He dropped his sandwich. Fully dropped it. “Holy shit.”

Quinn, still chewing, furrowed his brows. “What?”

Luke didn’t say anything, just stared.

Because there you were, climbing out of the car—same face, same features, but different.

College had done something to you. Or maybe you’d just grown into yourself.

Jack nudged Luke’s arm, grinning. “Dude. You seeing this?”

Luke was seeing it. That was the problem.

You were tan, your hair was different, your shorts were short, and fuck, had your legs always looked like that?

“Oh my god,” Quinn muttered, leaning against the counter. “Luke, close your mouth.”

Luke snapped his mouth shut, scowling. “Shut up.”

Jack just smirked. “Bet she still won’t talk to you.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.

A few days later, you were walking up your driveway when you spotted Luke in his front yard.

He had his shirt on this time (unfortunately so) wearing a Team USA tee with the sleeves cut off, and ripping shots into the net with a ridiculous amount of force.

You should’ve known better.

Really, you should have known better.

Because one second, he was shooting.

And the next—

Crack.

Right to the face.

“Holy shit!”

Luke dropped his stick so fast it clattered against the pavement. In seconds, he was in front of you, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you or not.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I didn’t see you,” he rambled, eyes darting between your nose and your expression. “Are you—holy shit, you’re bleeding.”

You groaned, pressing your fingers to your face. “Luke. What the fuck.”

“I swear I didn’t see you—”

“No shit.”

Luke winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.” He ripped his shirt off in one smooth motion, bunching it up before carefully pressing it against your nose. “Here, hold this.”

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“Sacrificed my shirt for you? Yeah.”

“Oh, so chivalrous.”

Luke huffed out a laugh, tilting your chin up slightly to examine the damage. His hands were warm, calloused from years of hockey, and being this close to him was… distracting.

His eyes flickered over your face, studying you.

“You look… different,” he murmured, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You swallowed. “So do you.”

Luke smirked. “Yeah?”

And that was when you realized—he was still holding your chin.

And smiling at you.

And looking so unfairly good doing it.

You exhaled sharply. “Quit smiling at me.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I feel weird.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

His grin widened, slow and lazy. “Huh.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said easily. “Just thinking I should smile at you more often.”

You groaned, shoving his chest. “Oh my god.”

Luke just laughed, but then his expression sobered. “C’mon, let’s go inside. Mom’ll kill me if I leave you out here bleeding.”

Before Luke could even pull you up, the door to the Hughes house slammed open.

Jack and Quinn came speed-walking—borderline running—toward you, eyes bouncing between Luke, you, and the blood dripping down your face.

Jack, of course, spoke first.

“Oh my god, did Luke hit you?”

You groaned, still pressing Luke’s (formerly white) Team USA shirt to your nose. “You say that like he didn’t just slapshot a puck into my face.”

Quinn sighed, looking so unimpressed. “Jesus, Luke.”

Luke, still crouched next to you, lifted his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t see her! I was just—”

Jack cackled, pointing at Luke like he’d just won the lottery. “You obliterated her!”

“Jack,” you deadpanned. “Not helping.”

Jack waved you off. “No, no, because this is insane. You come back from college looking totally different, and the second Luke sees you, he shoots his shot—literally.”

Luke groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jack, I swear to—”

Jack ignored him. “I mean, I knew he was gonna lose it when he saw you again, but this—this is next level.”

Luke shoved him. “Can you shut up?”

Quinn, ever the responsible older brother, rolled his eyes. “Alright, let’s get her inside before she passes out in our driveway.”

Jack smirked. “Or before Luke confesses his love again.”

Luke shoved him harder.

You just sighed.

The moment you stepped into the house, the familiar warmth of the Hughes home hit you—laundry detergent, whatever Quinn had been cooking earlier, and a faint trace of hockey gear.

And then—

“Oh my god!”

Ellen practically flew down the stairs, eyes zeroing in on your face.

Jim followed behind her, frowning. “Jesus, what happened?”

Jack, still very much enjoying the situation, grinned. “Oh, you know. Luke saw her for the first time in, like, a year and immediately tried to take her out.”

Luke groaned. “That is not what happened.”

Ellen, ignoring them, cupped your face as gently as she could, careful not to touch your nose. “Sweetheart, oh my gosh! You’re hurt!”

Jack, ever the instigator, added, “She is hurt, but also—she looks amazing, right?”

Ellen’s eyes flickered over your face—well, the parts of it that weren’t covered in blood—and beamed. “Oh, honey, you are stunning! Look at you! College has done wonders for you.”

You blinked. “Uh—”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Ellen, she’s bleeding.”

Ellen waved him off. “Yes, yes, I see that, but look at how grown up she is!” She turned to Quinn. “Quinn, tell me she doesn’t look gorgeous.”

Quinn, handing Luke an ice pack, huffed out a laugh. “She does.”

Jack smirked. “Luke sure thinks so.”

Luke whipped around. “Jack, I will actually—”

Jim chuckled, finally stepping in. “Alright, El, let’s fix her up before we start matchmaking.”

Luke, still looking like he desperately wanted to disappear, guided you to the kitchen table and sat you down. “Okay, let me—uh—yeah, just—” He fumbled with the ice pack, hands slightly shaky.

You raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah. Just—quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” Luke exhaled sharply. “Like that.”

You smirked. “Why?”

“Because I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that.”

For a second, he didn’t say anything.

And then—

Jack howled. Quinn raised his eyebrows.

Ellen gasped like this was the best news she had heard all day.

Jim sighed, rubbing his temples. “Jesus Christ.”

Luke groaned.

And you?

You just smiled.

It was going to be a great summer.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

@bucktommyfluffebruary Day 8: Surprise

Another of my prompts from last year that fit.

*****

Rated T | 2,430 | tw: homophobic slur

Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige—he always was—but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

****

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay insisted that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so incredibly perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before he kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own. Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy I am that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s- we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until, like, 10 minutes ago, so I don’t even have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought, though he kept that to himself.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you. You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned—minus is own spontaneous proposal—and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part— Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears filled his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so- it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring.”

“Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting yours on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently fixed a curlon Bucks head and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took his ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

[saoirsezz]

ᯓ DROWN ME IN THE POOL OF YOUR EYES | 희승

PAIRINGS. student!heeseung x president!reader

GENRE. fluff

WARNINGS. none

SYNOPSIS. heeseung was tasked to help some of the student council members as a way to pay off his multiple tardy slips, he had already been to detention and the principal thought of this alternative way to make him work, and ease off the burden of the student council president's shoulder. but what happens when he sees you, and suddenly wants to ease every problem, including you being single?

HEESEUNG SIGHED as he went out the principal's office. he definetely regrets sleeping late and arriving late on school. sure, it was no big deal at first. just staying a few more minutes at school to 'contemplate' his wrong doings. but now he was tasked to not only stay after school, but help some on what he thought was a stupid, student council project.

he stormed through the halls, searching for their room. he was really debating in his mind whether or not he helps or just make a run for it and go, but he knew the latter would result in him getting another penalty— which is way worse, and probably one he can't escape to.

after minutes of roaming around, he finally found the room. entitled, 'STUDENT'S COUNCIL OFFICE'. he gently knocked on the door a few times and waiting, but as he got no response, he simply turned the knob and opened it gently.

and there he saw you, the sun rays shining through your beautiful brown eyes, making them glow in a gold, lightish-hue. the window was partially open, letting a few of the winds in— softly blowing on your silky hair.

your ears filled with white earbuds connected on your phone, seemingly focused on finishing whatever you were doing in a hurry.

that view, specifically the view of you, was something he'd never expect to see. oh if only you knew how much his heart pounded as his eyes laid on you, it was as if the world stopped revolving, and all that existed was the two of you.

he was lovestruck to say the least, his eyes were a bit wide open, mouth a little parted from awe, and his cheeks showing a tint of pink.

he snapped as he heard your melancholic, sweet, soft voice.

“can I help you?”

your brows furrowed in confusion. he was still a little frozen and he felt unable to speak, this was so embarrassing for him. but right as those words left your mouth and his eyes landed on you, he knew he would be willing to struck a few more tardy slips if it meant helping you, and seeing you again.

© work of saoirsezz | sho

SHO'S NOTE. i hope this meets anon's expectations, I wrote this rushed bc I just got home T ^ T

[narutothoughts]

Au where Naruto is insane about all his teammates (not just sasuke) so when Tsunade refuses the hat and kakashi is basically forced into it he goes a little wacky and joins anbu to help Kakashi better.

In the past, Kakashi swore himself to his village four times. Has the Konoha headband that he received at graduation from the academy as proof of the first time. Has his first chunin vest as proof of the second. His Jonin greens as proof of the third and his anbu tattoo as proof of the fourth.

He never expected to do it again with the Hokage’s hat as proof of the fifth. But he does. His village needs him and he’s never once turned from her, even at his worst.

Kakashi has the reputation. The skill. The intelligence. The heritage. The connections. The power.

With kakashi as Hokage and officially off active duty, the situation is more strained than before. It becomes readily apparent to all the higher ups just how much heavy lifting Kakashi was doing when it came to completing all the A and S rank missions.

Naruto…well he sees the grief that shadows Kakashi’s eye more than the hat’s veil could ever hide. The exhaustion in his perpetually slumped shoulders.

He refuses to let this be where they part ways and allow himself be shuffled off to a new genin sensei as if team seven wasn’t the best thing he ever had.

So he doesn’t. He lets getting sasuke back become a second priority and focuses on being able to help kakashi as best he can. Sasuke chose to leave but kakashi…he doesn’t want the hat or the distance it’s forced. It’s obvious to anyone who knew him as more than cold blooded Kakashi.

He will help his sensei.

It’s odd how much things shift after that. Time feels more compressed, like he’s fighting against it and working with it all at once. But somehow he finds his own teachers, both conventional and not.

After all, the old granny whose perfume he complemented and ended up learning about poisons from in Suna wasn’t exactly a normal teacher. Although he did find a bingo book entry that looked just like her minus a few (dozen) wrinkles. The fact it said she was both originally from Konoha and now dead was…interesting. The dock workers he met in water when he was disguised as a fisherman’s son looking for work taught him all kinds of knots that he adapted for his traps wasn’t conventional either. Not to mention the blacksmith he was hired to protect…or the bounty hunters he fought…or the missing nin…or that other missing nin…

Anyone that can teach him anything, he listens to. He internalizes. And he grows from it all.

It’s inevitable really that he joins ANBU. It’s where he can help his sensei best and so he does. He takes on the missions that are a few steps left of a suicide run and comes back with fewer and fewer injuries each time.

Things settle in the village again with another major player able to take on the workload. Kakashi hates it but can’t help but feel grateful for it anyway. He mourns the new darkness in his most cheerful students eyes but smiles as false bravado solidifies into quiet confidence and genuine contentment.

They both learn to lean on eachother. Kakashi knows any mission he gives Naruto will not only get completed, but also result in at least two more allies and a trade deal with a small village that’s not even on their maps. Naruto reveals in the unhesitant trust placed in him.

Time passes and the fourth war comes. Kakashi dies in front of Naruto, only alive long enough to pass him a blood stained hat with blood seeping through his face mask.

Naruto takes on the responsibility passed to him and leads his village in the war for 5 yrs.

Blah blah blah apocalyptic hell scape, he kills madara and rabbit goddess, no one’s left, Kurama suggests time travel, he takes it, gets sent to the past as a red haired and purple eyed version of himself, picks out a name, gets in bingo book, kills everyone he needs to to prevent it blah blah blah

This was entirely inspired by one scene I was imagining where Naruto gives a speech before his entire shinobi force and asks his anbu to step forward. It’s almost silent as people turn to each other in shock as they watch their friends and family step forward at their hokages command. Even quieter still when it’s clear the vast majority of the shinobi left alive are all ANBU.

[vinelark]

i would 100% read a brain/carmichael spin off

you and i are on the same page here, the briarmichael (coined by @feyburner) spinoff that lives in my head has rapidly grown to at least 35k worth of plot so far. some highlights:

brian has cared deeply about carmichael since high school, but isn’t In Love with him until later. like the summer makeout could’ve been the start of something, but when carmichael seemingly freaked about it and ghosted, brian pretty much moved on. he mourned the friendship more than the potential relationship. he was always the only one to really see past carmichael’s bullshit exterior, but brian was also 18 and going to college and not going to fight for carmichael’s attention if he didn’t want to give it.

meanwhile carmichael has been screaming crying throwing up in love with brian since like middle school, which he would admit to no one ever

carmichael now goes by "carm" as a nickname (per @cairoscene)

until they reunite post-college, brian does not know where/why carm left, because they weren't really talking at that point, and also brian is going to rutgers and experiencing living somewhere where they don't do like fear gas drills on campus for the first time. brian finally gets to flourish in his true form (affable bro who gets to flirt with everyone he wants at house parties)

i’m still deciding if brian even knows carm got disowned or if it was like a society secret. like carm’s parents made it sound like he just went off on a rebellious little trip or something. or if it was like, society gossip

also haven't totally nailed down the disinheritance situation but i want to say like. carm was interning at his dad’s company or his dad’s friend’s company and saw an executive do something Bad in a way that was very jarring to carm, who until this point has been willfully ignorant about most real-world things, and carmichael still saw himself as untouchable and used his annoying personality for good for once by making enough of a fuss to his dad about it that his dad was forced to cut ties with the executive to save face, but in the fallout carm was quietly sent away aka disowned. which carm did not expect, but had just enough backbone by then to not come crawling back immediately.

it was like. in carm’s mind. the right thing for him to do but also like he wasn’t even losing everything to be heroic, to save the world even the city. he just refused to shut up. and he ended up here.

he leaves gotham for a bit. i think he ends up working in a low-level mob restaurant in bludhaven for some time. he finds out he likes designing logos for things so he’s been taking cheap classes when he can and doing a bit of freelance work (starting with again a bludhaven mob but like, not like he could choose his clientele. and they paid him with bonus free dinner every shift). graphic design is his passion.

and @tigerjpg sent me an ask about them taking a road trip, and i wrote like 500 words off the cuff in response and then tumblr just. ate it. it disappeared into the void. the ask is back in my inbox like nothing happened. one day i'll re-type it, but for now just know that post-disinheritance carmichael sells his bmw convertible (that + what he could fit were the only things in his name that he still owned) and buys a used subaru that he is unhealthily emotionally attached to.

[nanamincreampie]

Taming the Tie

Nanami Kento x Black plus size reader

Taming the Tie

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Plus-Sized Black Reader Trope: Quiet Boyfriend x Enthusiastic and Goofy Girlfriend

Nanami Kento was never late. Ever. His entire existence revolved around schedules, efficiency, and structure. But today, for the first time in a long time, he was running behind.

His jaw was tight as he fastened the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, fingers working with precise, yet hurried movements. His tie, however, was another matter entirely. He attempted to loop the fabric around his collar but ended up creating a tangled mess.

From your spot on the bed, you watched with a barely contained grin, lounging comfortably as if you weren’t witnessing the great Nanami Kento—your boyfriend, the embodiment of composure—actually struggling.

“You know,” you mused, propping your chin on your hand, “for someone who operates with surgical precision in combat, you really suck at tying a tie under pressure.”

Nanami shot you a dry look, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Not now.”

“But what if I want to help?” you pouted dramatically, rolling onto your side. Your curls spilled across the pillow, dark and soft, a beautiful halo framing your face. The warm, rich glow of your skin contrasted against the light sheets, and you knew Nanami noticed, even if he pretended not to.

“I don’t have time for your antics right now,” he muttered, struggling once more.

“Oh, but you do,” you countered, pushing up from the bed. “Because if you try to fix it yourself, you’ll end up looking like you let Gojo dress you.”

That got a reaction, a brief flicker of horror in his eyes. Before he could protest, you stepped in front of him, grabbing the silk tie from his hands. “Relax, Mr. Punctuality, I got this.”

Nanami didn’t argue, but the way his shoulders eased told you he appreciated the help, even if he wouldn’t say it aloud. You took your time, fingers expertly looping the fabric, making sure the knot was snug but not too tight. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you, warm, woodsy, and distinctly him.

“You’re making your serious business face again,” you teased, flicking your gaze up at him.

“I always make this face,” he replied, voice low and even.

“Yeah, but right now, it looks like you’re about to give a TED Talk on the importance of fiscal responsibility.”

Nanami huffed, his version of a laugh. His eyes softened as they traced over your features—the fullness of your cheeks, the brightness in your eyes, the way your lips curled into a mischievous smile. He loved how expressive you were, how effortlessly you filled every space you entered with warmth.

Your body pressed against his as you finished, the soft plushness of you molding against the firm planes of his chest. He inhaled slowly, grounding himself in the comfort of your presence.

“There,” you announced proudly, smoothing down his tie. “Now you look even more handsome.”

Nanami stared at you for a moment, then let out a slow breath. His hand lifted, fingers threading into your curls as he cradled the back of your head. With quiet reverence, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

“You are the only chaos I willingly tolerate,” he murmured.

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his middle despite his halfhearted protests about wrinkling his shirt. “You love my chaos.”

Nanami sighed, resting his chin atop your head for just a moment longer before finally stepping back. “I’m going to be late.”

“Then you better hurry, babe.” You patted his chest. “Can’t have the world’s most responsible man showing up late and disheveled.”

His gaze flicked over you one last time, something unreadable in his expression, before he shook his head and turned toward the door.

And as he left, you had a feeling he’d be thinking about you the entire time.

[curated-hdg]

Independence Is Easy by SapphicSounds

Released: February 2024

75k words; 17 chapters

Status: Complete

Wade Winters lives a perfectly happy life as an independent citizen of the Affini Compact. But when his affini friend Dali questions just how independent he really is, the pair agree to a bet: for the next month, whenever he fails to accomplish any part of his daily routine, Dali will start doing it for him. Wade isn't worried, it's not like Dali wants to domesticate him or anything.

Independent pro tip: don't do this.

There is a certain genre of HDG fics, featuring affini that are distinctly sharp and sympathetic protagonists who are fairly unambiguously being victimized by said affini. I'm not sure that Independence is Easy is the first such fic, but I know that if you write a fic in this mold, you will be compared to Independence is Easy. Because Independence is Easy goes unbelievably hard.

There are multiple moments in this fic that broke my brain; multiple moments where I thought "How the hell are there that many chapters left". Each time, the immediate response is "We can go harder". And it can. And it does. I will just straight-up say that Dali is one of the most evil, manipulative characters in the entire canon of HDG. An absolute masterclass in villainy, while still being firmly within the bounds of what an affini is and would do.

Without meaning to spoil too much, have the following six-word sentence: "Please tell me that's my skin." There is no context where you're likely to like the answer to that question.

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

caregiver midoriya izuku headcanons !!

— requested by @v4mpiirew1tch —

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

💚 - izuku is probably the only one of the class a kids (barring the regressors) who actually knew what age regression was going into it. he’s done way too much research into heroics and the kinds of people that he might encounter to not know the various kinds of trauma responses civilians (and villains who still need his help) might show. now, that doesn’t mean he’s exactly prepared when actually faced with someone he knows regressing, but he does have a leg to stand on and he finds it a lot easier than expected. it isn’t hard for him to look at someone who is emotional or sensitive and go along with whatever they may need and whatever that may entail. in fact, he’s always the first one to recover and handle a situation when someone regresses in front of him— or in front of the class, which has happened (many times) before.

💚 - predictably, he was really anxious in the beginning, unsure of how fragile his friends were in their headspaces and overthinking everything. his biggest fear was that he would mess something up and take this already precarious thing and shatter it. it didn’t take very long for him to get used to things (tsu knocked some sense into him) and he got really good at slipping into his own headspace, one surprisingly similar to his hero one. he acts as an anchor in unsteady waters, giving the littles someone to latch onto as a pillar of strength as the storm passes. once they’re calm (or if they just happily regressed), izuku is more than willing to slide into a big brother role, treating his friends as he always would— just a little more gentle.

💚 - he started carrying around an emergency regressor kit soon after, packed with juice, snacks, and clean soothers (chewelry, pacis, and teethers mostly), because he figured it was better safe than sorry and he never wants his friends to be caught without something to help them. when iida found out, he was inspired by such a great act of preparedness and heroics (he was only a little upset that he hadn’t thought of it himself) that he started carrying one as well. the two of them then spent a while coming up with different things regressors might need and petitioned aizawa to let them stash said things in the classroom and training areas. aizawa, of course, didn’t care what they did as long as they were the ones keeping on top of it.

💚 - extremely tactile! izuku loves giving hugs and head pats! growing up quirkless left him very lonely and he basks in having friends to shower in affection— and being able to receive it back. everyone knows that he’s open to hold hands or cuddle whenever, even if they aren’t regressed, and it’s so well known that it ends up surpassing class lines, becoming common knowledge even amongst the regressors in class b. it isn’t rare to enter the dorms and see him hanging out while someone naps with their head on his chest or babbles to him about their day while he plays with their hair. he gives strong hugs and everyone loves them, I just know it.

💚 - he has a notebook with everyone’s regression information in it and, I’m so serious when I say this, he would protect it with his life. he has so many notes on each of his classmates, even his fellow caregivers, on things they like and don’t like, what kind of personality traits shine in their headspace, and anything he’s been told that he feels is important— like the names of their plushies. he does memorize everything, of course, but he finds that having physical copies is always better (and he has this opinion about everything, especially media). he’d never show anyone this notebook either, but he does relay things he’s learned to other people when it’s necessary. it mostly comes up as him infodumping to aizawa, who is the only person he feels this information is relevant to and the main one he trusts with it.

💚 - generally, he’s just very good with kids and takes a lot of what he learns with eri and applies it to the others. one such thing is the fact that he is extraordinarily good at reverse psychology. every little thinks that izuku is a massive pushover that lets them get away with anything but, truthfully, he always manages to steer them away from any chaos they may want to be involved in without anyone really noticing it. he’s just very good at distracting and redirecting. that being said, he also can’t say no to a pair of puppy eyes so maybe he is a bit of a pushover.