#meaning if you ever wanted to get back to the present. you'd have to wait it out basically.

[suiana]

yandere! childhood friend who still reminisces about your childhood together. yeah, the two of you may be grown now but he's been your day 1 and he just can't help but think about how you used to cling to him and adore him so much! he wishes you'd still do that but it is what it is. no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

yandere! childhood friend who did everything with you. yeah, that also includes practicing kisses. he's your first kiss, and he's never gonna let you forget that. you said you wanted to get better and who is he to refuse? he can't pass up such a prime opportunity! and it's not like he wants anyone else to take it. god no. that would be a tragedy.

"yeah, remember our kissing practices? hah, we were such kids back then!" he watches as you snicker, feeling a warm flush creep up his spine. god, of course he remembers. young and immature as you both were, you both learned together. that's all that really matters to him. "thanks to you, i can now makeout with my partners with ease. you're the best man." and has he told you how muchit infuriates him that you're using your experience to get with others? to please them with the mouth that once touched his? nah, he really can't stand for it. but he isn't allowed to say anything. he's just a childhood friend after all. not for long though.

yandere! childhood friend who wishes he would've accepted your offer to learn how to fuck as well. but no, he just had to be way too delusional back then and tell you to wait for the right one. he must've thought that you'd feel the same and confess then he'd court you slowly before getting to that stage... that never happened unfortunately. not yet at least. he'll make it happen.

yandere! childhood friend who's still a hopeless romantic at heart. a delusional one but a romantic nonetheless. he brings you out on "platonic dates" or whatever the fuck you like to call it, comfort you after your shitty excuse of a partner dumps you, and treats you like the deity that you are. you only deserve the best and he'll be there to provide. none of these losers can't treat you well. he can. he really hopes it'll help you see him as a potential boyfriend!

"i just," you blow your nose, tears streaming down your cheeks as your childhood friend rubs at your back tenderly. "don't know why he'd want to dumo me! we've been going strong for a year already! it's so out of the blue!" yeah, out of the blue huh... not really out of the blue for someone who's been actively theeatening that poor excuse of a man. that menas him, obviously. why he's been threatening him, you ask? because he's not treating you the way you should be treated, duh! sure you look happy but are you really? probably not, he's sure of it. "hey hey, don't worry... I'm here now, aren't i?" he always is, and he always will. you just need to understand that fact and you'll start seeing him in a different light too. don't worry, he has lots of patience. just... don't go sleeping with other people again.

yandere! childhood friend who may or may not be totally super duper mega in love with you. yeah, definitely not in love with you. that would be weird, right? come on, he's your childhood friend! sure you two might've kissed when you were kids and promised to marry one another but those were kiddy promises! that's all they are! he... totally doesn't believe you actually wanna marry him and be his forever and ever.

"so have you started thinking about your future?" he pauses at your question, rubbing at his empty ring finger. future, huh? funny how you ask that when you two are destined to be together at the end of it all. i mean, the two of your promised it as kids, didn't you? sure you're exploring now but at the end if the day, it's him that you come back to, don't you? even if just as a friend. but that's the present, not the future. "nah, not really. just wanna focus on the current moment, y'know?" bullshit, and he knows it. but he doesn't wanna scare you away. not yet at least. you're still out lookign for others which means you haven't come round to the idea of you two together. not to worry, he'll give you a little more time to see how good he is. how good things could be between you two if you just gave him the chance. "i mean, you're here with me." he chuckles, taking your hand in his before placing it on his cheek. you're warm. he likes your warmth, it's so soothing. "that's more than enough for me." half lidded eyes gaze at you, full of emotion and hidden longing before he hums softly. the teo fo you sit in the park in silence, enjoying each other's presence. in the moonlight, everything seems to slow and engulf the two of you in a quiet embrace. he only wishes you would just love him back already. "yeah, I'm glad to be by your side too, best friend." ...he really hates those words. don't worry, good things come to those who wait. and you will be his in due time. you've already had his heart, now all he needs is yours.

[specsthesecond]

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°

You wake up in the comfort of your home, snuggled in thick, fluffy sheets. Despite the cold, birds still chirp outside, advising you to start your day already. You stay in bed a little longer today, staring out the window, trying to get a hold of your thoughts.

It's been a good few days since you left that Orc's house, a few days to think about the experience and mull over what to do now.

You jolt out of your thoughts when you see, out the window, quick anxious scampering behind the snow covered bushes. Jumping out of bed, you hastily get dressed, fumbling with your boots, grabbing your trusty bow hanging by the door and a few arrows. You peek outside, sneaking as quietly as possible on the old wooden floor of the stoop, arrow already notched against the bowstring. You can only see the critters ears, twitching, listening for any trouble. It's either a rabbit or a hare, you hope for the latter.

You wait there for a good fifteen minutes, bow strung, waiting for the thing to move just a little to the left of the bush for a better shot. Your fingers burn on the string, didn't have time to grab your gloves. The second it hops slightly out of the bush, you let go of the arrow and send it flying right into the cotton-tailed critter.

When you step back inside your warm cottage, you make a beeline for the kitchen with the hare in your hand. It's quite a lucky catch, a large jack. You use this as an excuse, you actually come up with plenty excuses while you prepare a hearty stew. "There's so much meat here, it would be wrong not to share." "If I don't repay him, it'll weigh on me for far too long." "I need to bring him his flask back." "I need a good hike anyway."

Stupid rationales for the absurd idea you have conjured up. Nevertheless, you get out your fanciest ceramic pot and cook your best hare stew. You fret, far more than you'd admit, over how little ingredients you have due to the winter.

Come afternoon, you're trekking the woods, past the Human territory and into unwelcomed lands. You clutch the handle of the basket holding your steaming pot of stew and his flask tightly inside, which you filled with your favourite Red bush tea. This is just so you're even, and then you never have to think about this Orc ever again.

Somewhere in your mind you know that's not true, You'll never be able to forget what happened. You were content in your woods, pretending you weren't lonely, why has this Orc changed that? It was easy pushing the cravings down before, why is the hunger suddenly so present, so consuming.

You eventually step into the clearing where his home lies, Your thoughts continue to meander as your feet take you straight to the steps into his home. Now, you can't just leave it out for him but you can't just knock on the door and run away either...

You knock on the door three times, taking a deep breath and then cursing yourself for needing to do that. What if he doesn't want to see you again? Sure, he saved you from dying but that doesn't mean he'd want you in his home ag-

The door opens slowly, it takes you a minute to look up from the stone floor of the small veranda but when you do, it's those same dark brown eyes looking back at you. He looks shocked to see you, you expected as much. After a few awkward moments of staring, you hold the basket up with both hands, opening the top to reveal the red ceramic pot and his flask. He looks down at the parcel with a rather blank expression and it makes your skin crawl with anxiety.

You gesture for him to take the basket and he quickly, with frustratingly gentle hands, takes it from you. He takes a peek inside the pot, letting the built-up steam poor out and his eyes grow even wider, you can't tell if he likes it or not and it's killing you.

Of course he didn't want to see you. The last time you were together he woke up to you, a stranger, on top of him watching him sleep! Your face is hot with shame, you turn to leave but then hear him say something in Orcish, you turn around to face him. You're a little taken back to see the hopeful look in his eyes as he holds the door open for you, waiting for you to accept his invitation.

Timidly, you step inside. Being here again sends a shiver down your spine. The Orc gently rests the basket on his little (in comparison to him) living room table, then heads to the kitchen. He comes back with a tray of two bowls, two mugs and cutlery. It shocks you how easily you take his silent invitation to stay for dinner as you both set the table as if it's a normal thing for basically strangers to do. While he dishes up hearty portions of steamy stew in rather large bowls, you pour the red tinted tea into the two mugs he brought.

You sit down on opposite sides of the wooden table and dig in. The spoon, like the bowl, is rather big and made out of what appears to be a hard dark wood. As you taste your stew, doubts trickle into your mind. Is it not thick enough? Is the meat too tough? Do Orcs prefer tougher meat? Is it too bland for him?

The scrape of his chair on the floor interrupts your thoughts and you look up at him. He's scooping up more stew with the serving spoon and plopping it into his empty bowl. You stare at him bewildered when you realise he's already going for seconds. How did he even swallow all that so fast?

He notices you staring and looks embarrassed, like he's done something wrong. You shake your head lightly and gesture for him to continue. He smiles rather bashfully for an orc and plops another spoonful onto his heaped bowl. You hide the smile that creeps onto your face behind a hot mug of tea.

After the pot has been thoroughly emptied and your stomachs are full, he starts clearing up his side of the table. You go to follow, but he swiftly takes your bowl from you, sets it on the tray with everything else and walks off to the kitchen. For a second you sit rather dumbly at the empty table, the sound of splashing water comes from the kitchen as you look around the orc's abode.

Your eyes are drawn to a packed bookshelf in the corner, you try not to be that impressed that an orc would willingly read so many books. You imagine you would be pretty insulted if someone said that about you, and you know full well that reading is a lovely way to pass the time in such a quiet life as yours and his.

He steps back into the room holding two mugs of what was left of the tea, you suppose that means he likes it. He places them on the small table in front of the couch and takes a seat. He doesn't show any indication that he expects you to sit with him but you find yourself sinking down next to him anyway.

He picks up a little book on the low table and pages through it, it's green with bold Orcish on the front. You try to seem uninterested with what he's doing, staring down at your tea until he shuffles closer to you, pointing to a specific page in the book. You scrunch your eyebrows and lean closer, reading the text he's pointing to.

"Thank you."

Your breath catches and you read further down the page, seeing bold Orcish words followed by Human Common words.

It's a translation book.

You laugh (more like wheeze) in surprise and disbelief. The Orc looks nervous, looking back at the book to make sure he pointed to the right word. You gently take the book from him and page through it, searching.

After quite a while, you finally find it, in what you assume is the "Helpful phrases" section, and you point it out for him.

"You're welcome."

He lets out a hearty laugh and you grin at the sound. You made him laugh. His eyes crinkle, deepening the crows feet just above his cheeks, which seem a darker green than before.

After that, you sit together in quiet comfort, drinking the rest of your tea and peeking at the words in his book as he pages through the translations. The book is new, the spine isn't creased from use and the pages are still firm and fresh. Did he get this book because of you?

The thought stirs something strange in your belly and you can't tell if you should invite it in or reject it. Your eyes shift to the window near the door and you jump when you see the sun is setting. How has it been that long?

You rise from the couch and grab your basket, shoving your now clean ceramic pot into it. The Orc looks at you confused, looks towards the window, and then shoots up himself, quickly heading to the kitchen. You shrug your fur coat on at the door and wait patiently for him to return, basket in hand.

He returns with the same flask he gave you the last time you left in a hurry. He may be even more bashful this time he hands it to you and you don't need to open it to know what's inside. You nod your head again in thanks and he smiles wider than you'd think an Orc capable, if you hadn't met him, that is.

You walk out of his house, flask tucked in your basket. When you reach the end of the clearing, you turn around and there he is, standing on the veranda watching you leave. You hesitate for a moment and then give him a little wave goodbye. He returns it with his own.

As you walk through thick trees, you wonder if the nearby human village has a book vendor. Not for any particular reason.

°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❆⋆.ೃ࿔:･°

<- Previous

Next ->

[luveline]

I'm in an angsty mood.. and I love love love Spencer x bombshell!reader.

maybe she gets hurt somehow (maybe like an unsub or something) but refuses to get checked out

ty for requesting!! sry this isn't super angsty 

cw criminal minds typical gun violence

Blood is a strange thing. It can run quickly or slow, feel tepid or burning hot. It's warm and uncomfortable as it slinks down the curve of your shoulder to the very tip of your index finger, dark as coal pitch in the poor lightning. 

The gunfight is promptly ended, so quickly that no one even knows you've been hit. Morgan throws himself at one unsub and the other is shot in the thigh. Your ears ring, a gun firing too close to your head, clearly. 

In all the hubbub, nobody notices you're hurt. 

You'd like to keep it that way. 

It's not that you believe you're infallible, nor that the others believe it either, but in the grand scheme of things it is a very small cut that you can attend to in your hotel room alone with a butterfly stitch or even a roll of bandages. There's no way it requires real stitches, and no way you're gonna sit in the back of an ambulance for the next hour. 

Your jacket is black. The wound clots itself while you're in the SUV —you choose a window where your arm faces away from everyone and you manage it. And truthfully… you would like the others to think you're smarter than getting hit by a stray bullet. After everything that's happened lately, you've reason to build yourself up. Let the others hold you in some prestige again. 

It works for a time. You get back to the hotel, and everyone says goodnight. Your room is clean and waiting for your return. 

You'd collapse into bed if it didn't mean you'd leave a bloody line on the linens. You shed your ruined jacket and throw it in the trash. Your shirt is split where the bullet nicked you, and that comes off next. The wound begins bleeding sluggishly at the agitation but doesn't erupt, and stays strong as you wipe the skin clean around it. Your fingers mar with copper stain, the face cloth you've sacrificed turning an ugly brown, but eventually you've cleaned the skin enough to see the damage. 

It's deep but small. A nick. 

The issue is your lack of bandages. It's a hotel room, a small one. There's no first aid kit and your go bag is sorely lacking. Which means… 

You have to go bat your eyelids at someone, and if you're being honest, you only ever want to do that to one Dr. Spencer Reid. 

He's not expecting you, clearly. You weren't expecting it either. "Hey," he says, rubbing his eyes, his pyjama pants flush to the floor. 

"You were sleeping? I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, are you kidding me?" He opens the door wider to encourage you in, turning away from you as he murmurs, "S'like my dream." 

He must be very tired. You beam like a fool and follow him inside. "I had a dream like this once, too. Same kind of dream, do you think?" 

"Knowing you, probably." He's growing more comfortable with you, but he's still clearly a little flustered to be this suddenly presented with you, wrapping himself up in a cardigan hanging over the single sad chair. "What's up?" 

"I'm glad you asked." You take your uninjured arm out of your coat, and then the other. You know what you're doing, laughing softly as his eyes turn to dark dimes in an otherwise pale face. "I need your help with something, Spence." 

"Uh–" He stammers, looking you up and down with shock. "Um, I–" He licks his lips quickly. "Okay." 

You kind of hate that you aren't there to seduce him for a split second. Too bad your arm has started to throb. "I need a bandaid," you say, turning your arm into his line of sight. "Help me out?" 

—

"I know something you don't know," Morgan sing-songs. Emily sips her coffee, mildly interested by her friend's taunting. She doesn't give him any feeding, waiting, and sure enough he cracks. "What, you don't want to know?" 

"You want to tell me, right?" 

"Mm, no. I'll tell Penelope." 

"Fine! Alright, what is it?" She breaks, putting her coffee down on the little table in front of her. They're sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for Hotch and the others to collect their things. The jet awaits, as do a few hours in the air before she gets to sleep in her own bed again. 

"I saw–" Morgan laughs. "This is too good. I saw a certain bombshell visiting Reid last night. After hours."

Emily's heart kicks in. "No way!" she gasps. "I mean, I know there's something between them, we all know that, but– his room, seriously?" 

"He didn't even question her. She knocked, he answered, she went inside." 

"What were you doing up?" 

"That's my business," Morgan says. 

Emily leans forward to gossip. This is insane. Sure, you flirt with Spencer relentlessly, and sure, he blushes like he loves it the majority of the time, he even manages to get you back, but you're sleeping together? "This is so scandalous," she whispers. 

Her job is hard, but God does Emily love her team. She's genuinely happy for you both, but seriously! She giggles to herself at the drama of it all, and Morgan looks like he might say more, but then he looks behind her and stops. 

Emily turns. You and Spencer are walking out of the elevator together, and while you aren't looking more coupled than usual, Spencer's acting unusually. "You're sure you're okay?" he asks, hushed but carrying in the relatively quiet lobby. 

"I promise I'm okay, Spence." Your voice drops. "It's our secret, okay?" 

"Sure, but–" He takes your hand, there, where everyone can see, the love in the line of his shoulders clear to anyone who might be watching, which Emily and Morgan very much are. "Can I look at it again?" 

Morgan laughs into his hand, hiding it with a cough too late. Emily kicks his leg and he looks admonished, but it doesn't convince you where you look up from your conversation, the same surprise written in your features as Emily herself feels while Spencer continues, "You need to let me take care of you," he says, practically pleading. 

"Spencer," you say, looking Emily straight in the eye, "you took care of me just fine last night." 

She gawps. 

Spencer whispers in response to your lowered tone, making his answer partially inaudible, "It was my first…" He shakes his head. "I've never…  and I know you said it didn't hurt that much but… go see a doctor–" 

You stop him with an affectionate smile. "You could never hurt me, handsome. Do I look like I'm in pain?" 

"No." Spencer drops your hand. "If you're sure. Let me go get you a drink, okay? Go sit down." 

"Yes sir." 

Nothing about you says anything different to usual as you sit on the lobby chair next to Morgan's, beside your worn hoodie. You fiddle with a fraying sleeve as you kick one leg over the other, giving your friends a pleased smile. "Morning," you say lightly. 

Emily genuinely doesn't know what to say. Her mouth hangs slightly ajar. "I…" 

"You're shameless," Morgan says with a laugh. 

"Look," you say, shrugging though the action makes you wince, "I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't believe me." 

"Sure we wouldn't. Reid looks like a lost puppy right now." 

Spencer stands anxiously by the coffee machine across the way, his gaze locked solidly on you where you sit. You throw him a smile and he looks away. 

"I don't deserve him," you say softly. 

Spencer carries your bag for you all the way to the BAU. Emily doesn't think it's a question of deserving, though you do, only an example of Spencer's big heart. And, you know, post hookup appreciation, or something. 

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 4:

Yandere Bully Interrupts Your "Date"

Part 0 │ Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Jonathan was a nice guy, you figured.

The quarterback of the football team was always all smiles, and he seemed to never treat you differently despite being way higher up on the social ladder. Therefore, you sort of liked to tutor him. Not only did it feel like you were sometimes hanging out with a close friend, but it also made you feel good deep down that a guy was paying you some attention... even if it was just for school. But still.

And plus, you figured that he could potentially protect you from Blake.

Seriously, it was crystal clear that Jonathan lived in the gym after school, given his large muscles and athletic prowess.

Blake is muscular too, but he tends to hide his bulk underneath his leather jacket.

But still!

You tried your best to force your mind away from Blake as you and Jonathan pulled into the parking lot of a local diner. It was a small place where the two of you could be uninterrupted during your study session. It was one of the few local spots where Jonathan would treat you as payment for tutoring him, and you'd always order something sweet and tasty!

The two of you took your seats at one of the booths near the back, and your eyes stayed glued to the door. The constant fear of Blake finding you kept you on edge, and you found it hard to stay present with your brain always straying back to the bully.

You mentally berated yourself, annoyed that you kept thinking about Blake.

He'd claimed you as his, and you'd gotten three strikes.

Both of those spelt trouble in your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to avoid the guy. Therefore, you figured that being away from school with someone big who could protect you was the best course of action.

Jonathan and you placed your orders and tried to start the tutoring session, but it was close to impossible for you to get your nerves settled.

"Is something on your mind?" the jock finally asked when he'd noticed you staring nervously at the door for the millionth time.

"O-oh!" you mumbled, jerking out of your panicked daze. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little... distracted." You sheepishly smiled at the end of your statement, hoping that the jock wouldn't catch onto you inadvertently using him as protection.

Jonathan pursed his lips into a thin line, deep in thought. "So," he slowly asked, shrugging his broad shoulders, "is it Blake?"

You jerked back in your seat, shocked. "Wh-what do you mean?" you stuttered, trying your best to force an innocent smile onto your face.

Jonathan scrunched up his face in confusion. "Oh, my bad," he muttered. "I just thought that you two were having couple problems."

"'Couple problems'?" you repeated.

Jonathan shrugged again. "Well, yeah," he grunted. "I mean, by the way Blake talks about you, I thought the two of you were dating..."

"The way he talks about me?" you repeated again, feeling yourself go pale at the words you heard.

Never in your life would you have ever expected Blake to talk about you in any sort of positive manner. You always tried to avoid him like the plague, hence you'd preferred if he didn't know that you existed. But if he were to talk about you, you half-expected him to curse your name and call you the scum of the earth given how badly he's beaten people up all around you.

Thinking about it, there were several of Blake's victims you knew personally:

Kyle, the bully who's stolen your lunch money back in the sixth grade. He'd gotten his face beaten to a pulp, causing his nose to be a little crooked now.

Tristan, the guy who'd called you ugly on picture day. Blake had based his face so hard that his front teeth had been knocked out, totally ruining his picture.

Cesar, the douche who'd smashed your science project to smithereens for a YouTube prank. Well, Blake had filmed himself stomping him in the nuts, posting it to Cesar's now defunct account.

Wait...

"Wh-what has Blake said... about me?" you asked, feeling your heart fall to the floor as you thought everything over. It all had to be a coincidence, right?

The waitress delivered your food, distracting the jock for a second as he began to eat his fries. "Oh, um, he says lots of things about you," he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

That didn't really help.

"Like what?" you pressed.

The jock took a loud gulp of his soda. "Well, he says that he--"

He was cut off by the loud slamming of the front door. The both of you were altered to the booming noise, making you both flinch as you turned to see none other than Blake enter the tiny diner.

The bully's eyes scanned the area before landing on you, narrowing in your direction.

Uh-oh...

To be continued...

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

I'm sorry about the lack of tagging people! I'm forever and always appreciative of everyone's interest in this story. Unfortunately, I just can't tag everyone at the moment. I apologize and hope you all understand!

[pittrabbit]

warning: lowkey toxic!gojo but we listen and don’t judge <3

"nothing's gonna happen, i already told you," you whined at gojo for the nth time in the past hour. 

"but what if it does? it's okay, just don't go, baby. you can just stay in with me, yeah?"

you'd been going back and forth with gojo, insisting there was a party you wanted to go to, but he had been insistent in the opposite, knowing your ex would be present, and for some godforsaken reason he just couldn't have that.

"why not, gojo? It's not like i can't control myself. i won't even talk to him."

"that's what you said last time and you still got back together with him, remember? i had to watch you fucking go out with that asshole for three whole months all over again just for him to pull the same shit in the end," he practically growled, "this is for your own good, baby," his hand was on your cheek by now, thumb caressing it as he coo'd at your pout.

"but, gojo-"

"shhh. i'm only watching out for you, angel. don't want you to do anything you'd regret," he sounded patronizing as he said it, but you knew he didn't mean it in such a way.

"but what if i wanted to go meet some other guy there? huh? i can't just stay locked up cause he might be there. it's not fair."

it was odd, but you saw a dark look takeover his face as he frowned at your statement. it seemed like the mention of meeting someone else had annoyed him somehow. either that or just your general defiance towards him.

"another guy? can't have that either, angel. i'm sorry."

huh? 

what did he even mean by that?

"what? why?"

"you're too vulnerable right now, baby. some mean guy's just gonna take advantage and try and take you from me. not gonna let that happen."

"'take me away'? what do you-"

"what? you're gonna meet some rando at a party and sleep with him? you're gonna get with some asshole again and end up heartbroken again in the next three months. i know how it goes, baby. why not just skip all that?", he groaned. 

"what are you saying?", you squinted your eyes at him in absolute confusion.

"if you want some rebound i can help you with that, okay? don't need to go to a party for that."

"what?"

he was now even closer to you, arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer. his other hand had migrated to your chin, tilting your head towards his own.

"are you still oblivious? or do you need me to spell it out for you?", he asked as he looked down on you. 

you said nothing, simply frozen by the sudden proximity to your friend. 

"what? cat got your tongue?", he smirked, letting a breath fall onto your lips, "still wanna go to that party?", he asked, continuing to stare down at you with lust in his eyes.

~

"gojo ... fuck ... please!"

"'please'? thought you wanted to go meet some other guy, angel. what happened?"

"n– no! just .. gojo, do something."

in your current predicament, with your best friend between your legs, you finally understood why you'd never been able to find someone after your ex. why no one had felt good enough, why you'd gone back to your ex the one time gojo had happened to be absent.

he licked and kissed at you in the most sensual way you'd ever known, making you cry as he gave you the barest minimum while also making you delirious with pleasure. as your mind left you, you were able to ponder on gojo's constantly looming presence over you, always making sure people knew you were his without a single word. it also made sense why your ex broke up with you. there had always been a man in your life; one that thirsted for you loudly enough for everyone to see. 

everyone but you, it seemed.

his thirst for you now made it evident to you how often he'd gotten in the way of your romantic conquests, somehow always being there to either discourage you from pursuing someone or even getting in the way. usually you would've been mad at the realization, except you couldn't when he sounded the way he did as he whined how much he wanted you against your pussy.

"waited for years to get a taste of this pussy, angel," his eyes were rolled back as he gave you a long and slow swipe of his tongue, "willing to give it up for everyone except your best friend? that's so mean, baby. always took care of you so well. kept the assholes away from you, and not even then would you let me have it," every single word was muffled by your cunt, but you were receptive to every perverted thought.

"n– no, its not like that, gojo ..."

"no? does that mean i get to have this pretty pussy now, baby?" his tongue did not leave you even as he spoke.

"y– yes! fuck, gojo. ill give you anything you want, just– "

"let you cum? wanna cum on my tongue, angel?" 

"please!"

he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, sucking as he moaned against you. the feeling had your toes curling, head thrown back so aggressively you knew you'd be sore tomorrow. he moaned as if you were the sweetest thing he'd ever had. 

your orgasm came almost immediately, your hips uncontrollable as they canted against his tongue; not that they needed to, as gojo would not remove his tongue for you even through your orgasm. your cries from sensitivity were not enough to get him to separate from you. it wasnt until you tried to pry him away that he actually removed himself from you, panting at the lack of oxygen he had while between your legs. 

looking up at you, he finally spoke up, "ive been waiting to do that for so long, shit."

before you knew it, he was sitting on the couch next to you, pulling you to sit on top of him immediately after. 

"does this mean you're mine now? or am i gonna have to keep scaring guys away?"

"gojo! that was on purpose?!" it was a bit hard to get genuinely mad at him when you could feel the outline of his cock against your bare cunt. also while his face was still smeared with your juices. 

"shhh, quiet, baby. just say yes so i can kiss you."

"fi– hmmph!"

you had no chance to respond before he shoved his tongue in your mouth, moaning at the way you were pliant against his touch, allowing him to share your taste from his tongue to yours. 

he kissed and kissed you, making you lightheaded not only with the remnants of your taste on his tongue, but with the nasty way in which his tongue played with yours. you ran your hands through his hair, pulling at strands whenever he'd do something particularly filthy with his tongue, or when his hands would run through your body in ways that had you swooning in his hold.

gojo had been waiting to get you in his bed for years. he knew exactly what and how to make you putty in his arms, making sure to pull at all stops to have you sighing into his mouth as he played with you as he saw fit. 

"angel ... wanna do so many nasty things to you. can i? hmm? finally gonna let me have my way with you?", he breathed against your mouth, swallowing your whine at his words. 

"y– yes, gojo. fuck ... you can do anything you want, just– ", you were clearly desperate for it, even going as far as moving his hands to your tits in order to get him to fondle your breasts. you wanted him. and you wanted him bad. this did wonders for gojo's ego. 

"oh? you want me? huh, angel?", he taunted, thumbs circling the sensitive buds on your chest, grinning lazily at your whines. 

"i do, gojo. so fucking much .. you have no idea, i-" 

"'i have no idea?' are you sure about that, pretty?", he repositioned the two of you, making sure his cock was pressed up right against your cunt, rubbing your crotches together in a sensual pace, a pace that gave you just enough to wail for more, "been waiting to have you since we met ... been thinking about you every night. you think you can beat that?"

his words were making you lose your mind. to think that the gorgeous hunk of a man who you called your best friend had thought of you in his most intimate moments ... it was more than enough for you to reach a level of arousal you never had before. be damned any man who came before him. you now knew that none of them would ever compare. 

with unintelligible whimpers, you begged him to put it in, doing your best to rut into him from below. you were like an animal in heat, embarrassingly humping at him just to get the barest relief. 

he took note of this and groaned, pressing up against you even more and huffing air at the feeling. 

"fuck ... so fucking desperate for me, aren't you? don't worry, pretty. gonna give it to you .. gonna give it to you so fucking good." 

he plunged in after that, practically growling at the tightness surrounding him. similarity, you whined at the intrusion, quickly falling in love with the way he filled you up perfectly. 

you had never been stretched out this deliciously. you were just moments away from losing your mind at the pleasure his mere intrusion gave you, clearly nowhere prepared for the feeling of him canting in and out of you just moments later. 

gojo followed a sensual pace at first, not being able to handle the pleasure too well. it was all too much, with both his feelings of infatuation and lust towards you clouding his mind. but his carnal desires took over rather quickly, forcing his hips to move at an animalistic pace that had you clawing at his back and arching your own almost to the point of breaking. 

"'sso good, fuck ... pretty little cunt, 'n all mine, hmm? shit ... only mine," he slurred against your ear. 

"for you! y-your cunt. ah!," you managed to let out through the unimaginable pleasure. 

he decided to take it a step further, digging a hand between your bodies and rubbing his thumb in rapid circles against your clit, coughing at the sudden extra tightness around his cock. 

you were truly perfect for him. the perfect sopping hole to fuck. the perfect pretty bestie for him to love. the wait had been worth it, as he now had the cutest thing writhing under him in utter pleasure, knowing no one else could ever have you again. 

he vocalized this to you soon after, groaning various expletives about how your cunt was his and his only, how no other fucker would ever love you like he did, how his cock would imprint itself inside you and render you a boneless doll for him to fuck to his heart's contentment. and you took it all like a desperate, cock-hungry girl, nodding desperately and crying various 'yeses' ranging in pitch at the pleasure. 

"need you to cum with me, pretty. 'm gonna count you down, yeah? need that cunt squeezing me til i pass out, okay?" he breathed against your ear, breath tickling you and adding yet another layer of stimulation. 

and so he counted you down, fully confident that your cunt would squeeze him dry and break his resolve in a way he would never recover from. 

"g-gojo! so good, fu-fuck! cumming! i-im, fuck, shit!", your nonsensical cries made his hips stutter as he filled you up with his spunk, continuing to piston into you throughout the entirety of your orgasms. 

his lips found yours mid high, licking and sucking at your tongue as the oversensitivity took over him. yet he couldnt stop fucking into you. even as you clawed against him with half-hearted pleas to stop, claiming you were too sensitive. yet you continued to kiss him, squeezing your legs around his waist as your hips did a pathetic job of meeting his pace. 

he tortured you like this for a few minutes, eventually pulling out to watch his leftover cum leak out of you, eyes becoming hypnotized by the sight. 

laying next to your breathless self, he cuddled against you the best he could, giving you an uncharacteristically sweet peck on the cheek. 

"mine ... always been mine," he whispered. 

"y-yours," you breathed out.

[the-kr8tor]

LOSER HOBIE LOSER HOBIE LOSER HOBIE…

The requests are open?

Then I shall make a request 🤭

Do you know about secret Santa??? Basically it’s where people have to randomly pick their person to whom they will give smt (a gift). And now imagine Hobie has a big and deep crush on you in HS and then he has to get you a gift. He’s just so sweet and thinks his gift out and through for you and when you find out it’s him that got you the most amazing gift, he’s super shy and stuff. 🥰 (maybe he gets a lil kiss at the end, and then he just doesn’t know what to do and can’t sleep at night, debating if he should ask you out. Maybe a shared Christmas night 🙈)

Take your time and enjoy writing, no rush!! 🫶🏻

LOSER! HOBIE!!!!!!! 😍😍 Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (reader is mentioned wearing hair pins before) CW food mentions, High school AU, Hobie has a crush, loser! Nerd! Hobie, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Your whole class is sat around in a circle, giggles floating above whenever it's someone's turn to give their secret santa a present. You've written on your wishlist that you wanted anything that has anything to do with music, whether it's a poster of your favourite artist, a record, or a pair of headphones, you'd be happy for anything really. The atmosphere is filled with glee, the food that everyone bought for the party sits on a long table. Holiday cookies, cakes, and soda were primarily the common food brought for the potluck, save for a few spaghetti, and barbecue brought by someone who had the foresight to bring something that isn't sweet.

Chuckling at your seatmate who got the ugliest puppy plushie you've ever seen, you don't notice Hobie, aka your maths tutor and the one you've befriended the whole year, shuffling in his seat. He sits adjacent to you, eyes glancing towards your smiling face from time to time. You're well aware of his crush on you, everyone with a pair of eyes could see it. All the side glances, soft touches and the way he occasionally stutters whenever you scooch closer to him at the library are direct evidence of his attraction. And you can't deny that you feel the same, even playfully hinting at your own affection for the said man blatantly in front of his face. The whole class watches the obvious crush and ongoing train wreck that is you and Hobie tip-toeing around the feelings.

So when Hobie got your name from the bucket of names, he was beyond ecstatic, albeit terrified of what he's going to get you for secret santa. Add the fact that you might've picked his name amongst the list has him fidgeting in his seat. It has his nerves on high alert.

He tries to act cool when it's his turn to hand the gift that he painstakingly made for you. The gift consists of countless hours of him sitting with his cassette player, back aching and eyes heavy from staring at the familiar titles of songs that you like most and categorising it to best fit the theme or mood he's trying to convey. With his breath stuck in his throat, he stands up, lanky legs untangling from the crossed position, almost tripping himself over from his untied shoelace.

“Teach!” The nickname you've given him has his heart jumping in place. Your smile widens at who picked your name, the rest of the class watch on with bated breath. “What'd you get your favourite student?”

He softly smiles, handing you the magazine wrapped gift that's topped off with a sparkly red ribbon. “A scientific calculator.” Joking, you feign an offended gasp whilst the class snickers at your known enemy that is maths.

“If it's a calculator then that means I won't need you tutoring me anymore, Hobie.”

Your classmates look at you and then to Hobie, waiting for a clever or even a flirty retort from him. They're used to the back and forth between you two, but you always seem to win and with Hobie walking away with a flustered look and clammy hands.

“Nah, it just means that you've graduated from usin’ a regular calculator.”

The way the whole class rolled their eyes simultaneously in disappointment would have the earth rotate in reverse. You and Hobie are incredibly oblivious to it all. How could he take his attention away from you when you look at him with such fondness? And how could you look away from him when he looks so adorable with his bottom lip all bitten from trying to tamp down his own smile? He looks handsome when he's flustered, more so when he's staring at you all smitten.

Smiling, you wrap the end of the ribbon around your finger. “Can I open it now, or will we just stare into each other’s eyes well into new years?”

Clearing his throat, he finally notices all the eyes on him and you. “Sure, love.” The moment the term of endearment escapes his lips, he swears he heard someone from the circle squeal quietly.

“Okay!” your smile doesn't fade the entire time you were carefully unwrapping the present. Your heart skips a beat at the bundle of mixtapes in your hand. “Oh,” eyes swelling up with happy tears, you can't believe that he remembered every single song you mentioned in passing during the hours of his tutoring. You flip through the pile, each having different titles that fits the songs he mixed together written in his own hand. There's countless doodles dotted along the tapes, each having their own Hobie flare.

Your sudden quietness has Hobie queasy, he suddenly feels like he made the wrong move. “I—” starts, and you immediately spring from your seat to hug him. Before he could get over the shock of it all, you're already unlatching yourself from him. The look on his face is worth a thousand words. His eyes are wide, mouth agape as sweat dribbles from his forehead. It's the middle of London winter, and yet he feels like he's about to melt into a puddle.

“This is amazing, Hobie. Thank you.” You embrace the tapes, placing it right above your heart as you stare at him with so much affection that he would think that you reciprocate his feelings. (You do.)

“You're welcome, love.” His trembling hand reaches for yours. With trepidation, he instead moves further to cup your elbow, thinking that he's not quite ready to hold your hand just yet. Or that you're not comfortable with him holding you when in fact you want it just as hard as him.

With your teacher calling your name and the sound of the entire class’ squealing and teasing has died down, it's your turn to give your gift to your secret santa. Which unfortunately for Hobie, he's not so lucky to be the recipient of it.

Throughout the whole party, you can't stop yourself from glancing at him across the room. And he can't help but look at you amongst the crowd. But you two always manage to miss each other's loving stare.

After the gift giving, it's time to eat. You barely heard the call because you were too busy with reading each of the cassette tapes and the song lists that are written on each one. And Hobie was too busy trying to fend off his friends’ teasing to have a chance to grab a plate or even talk to you.

Once your friend taps you and wakes you up from your longing, you stand up to grab a plate. Coincidentally, Hobie's already there right next to the table, getting a slice of red velvet cake.

You inhale deeply, despite your more blatant flirting and unabashed teasing, you're nervous to talk to him now that you truly know that he really does like you. That he likes you enough to listen and remember the things you talk about when you're so used to people doing the opposite to you.

“Hey, teach.” You duck to look at him whilst he fights with the cake. “Or should I call you Santa now?”

He almost jumps in place from the sudden appearance and the close proximity. “Fuckin' hell.”

The knife almost falls from his grip, but you're there to catch it without managing to nick yourself or him. Grinning, you help him cut a piece of cake.

“Sorry.” You chuckle as you place the slice on his paper plate. “What'd you get for secret Santa?” Placing the knife down, you lick some extra frosting off of your finger.

He feels like he's being tested by the universe. “A l–lock pickin’ kit.”

You raise a brow, laughing. “You asked for that?”

Shrugging, he smirks. “Might come in handy. Yuri was the one who got me. Y’know how she is.”

“It's because of that one time you lock picked the gym with my hair pin so that we can grab the volleyballs from the storage room isn't it?”

Hobie nods with a smile, “yeah, that and for stealin’ back all the confiscated things from Mr. Burns’ office.”

Your laughter is contagious, making him laugh as he stares at you with endearment. “So it's for the benefit of everyone then?”

“Yeah, don't have to borrow your hair pin anymore, lovie.” His eyes wander all over the place except for your eyes. Knuckles shaking from how hard he grips the paper plate, heart beating louder than the speakers that are playing all the greatest hits. “Have you given it a listen yet?” He points at the mixtapes tucked in every available pocket you have.

“Not yet.” You shake your head, staring at him through your lashes as he flicks his eyes over to yours only to move away once he meets with your own. “I left my player at home.” He nods once, and you can feel his mind giving him second thoughts about his gift. So you immediately remedy it by holding onto his bicep, fingers gently wrapping around as he freezes in place. “I really did love the present, Hobie. It's well thought out, and—” he blinks at you, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly from the anticipation. You gently tug him closer, twisting to fully face him even with your own bashfulness trying to stop your next words.

“— And, do you want to listen to it together?”

“Together?” He asks, and You nod sheepishly. “Together, together?”

“Yeah, if you're free.” It's your turn to second guess as you shuffle your weight on your feet from nerves. “I want to listen to you talk about how you chose the music. And why you think they all pair well together?” You wait for his rejection.

He feels like he's dreaming. “I've got notes,” he said, matching your gentle smile. “I'll listen to the whole bloody thing with you, love.”

You sigh, relieved. Leaning forward, you cup his cheek, hand still unsure, hovering above his skin as you press a feather light kiss on his other cheek. He stands there, chest rising and falling, cake forgotten, and shock evident on his face. Now he knows that he's not dreaming.

“It's a date then.”

[dee-writes-anime]

Imagine tamaki dating an emotionless ‘freak’ ? But she isnt really a freak if u get what i mean?

So reader has a very dangerous fire quirk! Remember the ask i did with reader x the mha boys with a strong fire quirk, so smt similar to that!

So she has burns all over her back and tamaki walks into her dorm while shes wearing a tank top and he notices the scars from her quirk

He asks about them and reader just shuts DOWNNN. Showing her real emotions:D maybe angst and a tiny but of fluff? :3 take ur time on this if youd like!

ALSO I HOPE MY LAST ASK DIDNT MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!!! IT WAS INTENDED FOR LIKE TIMESPICK DEKU!! If it made you uncomfortable let me know🥹😭

-monty eat,sleep, drink!

Kindling: You

FEATURING Amajiki Tamaki x Reader, Katsuki Bakugou x Reader (INDIVIDUAL)

SUMMARY Facing the flames is scary, it's hard, but the weight will always feel lighter when you aren't doing it alone.

CONTENT WARNINGS healing myself through my characters!!!, angst to fluff, reader has problems controlling their quirk, descriptions of scars, bullying, Bakugo mentioning his sordid past (insert pained sigh), I just love them your honor

AUTHORS NOTE I am just on a role with these ending one-liners, I cannot be stopped! Punch your ticket on the healing train I guess! <3

SUNEATER ☀

The dorms were quiet, mostly — that late evening lull where most of Class 3-A had either gone out for dinner or retreated into the haze of headphones and study playlists. The common room lights were off. Outside, the sky was melting from lavender to indigo.

Tamaki wasn’t trying to snoop. He swore he wasn’t.

He’d only come to return the book you'd lent him — that old, worn one with the broken spine and folded corners, the kind of book someone lives in instead of just reading. He liked that you’d trusted him with it. Liked it maybe a little too much.

He knocked once on your door. Quiet. Hesitant.

You didn’t answer.

That alone wasn’t strange. You weren’t the type to rush or shout across the room. You were still and composed and sharp-edged in a way most people didn’t know how to interpret — fire held tight behind glass. People whispered emotionless, but Tamaki knew better. He saw the flickers in you. The quiet corners.

So he tried again. A soft knock. A pause.

Nothing.

And then—your voice, muffled through the door, low and listless. “It’s open.”

He stepped in carefully, fingers curled tight around the book. “I just— I wanted to bring this back. I hope I’m not—”

He stopped.

You were standing at your desk, back to the door, tank top slung loose over your shoulders. The room was dark but not dark enough to hide the way the firelight from your quirk — that ever-present, flickering aura you didn’t seem to notice — cast shadows over the skin of your back.

Scars. So many of them. Some jagged. Some smooth. Some new. Some old. The kind of damage only fire leaves behind when it doesn't care who it's burning.

Tamaki didn’t mean to stare.

But you’d never shown anyone this.

Not on purpose.

His voice caught in his throat.

“…You’re hurt.”

Your body stiffened. The air in the room snapped colder, like oxygen pulled away from a flame.

You didn’t turn around. “Get out.”

“Wait, I didn’t— I didn’t mean to intrude, I swear—”

“Get out.” It came sharp this time. Low and cold and final.

But he didn’t move.

Instead, Tamaki took one breath. Then two. Then closed the door behind him, just as gently as he’d opened it.

“I’m not looking because I’m curious,” he said quietly. “I just… didn’t know. I didn’t know you were in pain like that.”

“I’m not,” you lied.

He stepped forward. One slow step. Then another. “You don’t have to hide it.”

You finally turned then — not quickly, not with drama, but with a kind of resignation that cut deeper than any fire ever could. Your eyes met his and God, Tamaki had never seen you look like this. Not angry. Not cold.

Just—raw.

“Of course I do,” you said. Flat. Final. “You think anyone wants a hero who can’t even use her quirk without setting herself on fire?”

Your voice didn’t shake, but something in your hands did. He noticed.

“You think it makes me strong?” you asked. “You think I’m special? I burn everything. I can't even touch anyone when I’m angry, or scared, or— or anything. I’ve destroyed gear. I’ve burned through gloves. You know the first person I ever hurt was my mom?”

You stopped yourself. Bit your lip hard, like maybe you’d said too much. You turned back toward the desk, like you could disappear again if you just stopped looking at him.

But Tamaki didn’t leave.

He set the book down gently on your dresser and crossed to you, slowly, quietly — like approaching a creature you don’t want to startle. He didn’t say anything at first.

Just slipped off his hoodie. Stepped closer. And draped it around your shoulders, careful to avoid the healing scars, letting it hang like a barrier between the world and your skin.

Your eyes widened. You stared at the floor.

“What are you doing,” you mumbled.

He fidgeted, cheeks already flushed, voice soft as ever.

“Giving you something warm that doesn't hurt.”

You choked on your breath — not crying, not quite, but your chest stuttered like it didn’t know how to take it. Not tenderness. Not like this.

Tamaki wasn’t great with words, but he didn’t need them right now. His hand hovered near yours, not grabbing, just there. And when you didn’t pull away, he gently brushed his fingers against yours. Not afraid of the heat. Not afraid of you.

“You’re not a freak,” he said. “Not broken. Not scary. You’re just—” he hesitated, eyes flicking up to meet yours— “You.”

“And I… I like you like that.”

The silence after that stretched long. Not awkward. Just… real.

Finally, your voice cracked, too small to be angry anymore.

“…Why aren’t you scared of me?”

Tamaki smiled. Barely there. But he smiled.

“Because fire only hurts when you don’t know how to treat it right.”

And somehow, some how, that made you want to cry more than any insult ever had.

GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMITE 🧨

You were the kind of person who made people think twice before they spoke. All hard glances and sharp one-liners, emotionally locked behind iron doors with no keyhole in sight. Even in the dorms, you kept to yourself. Quiet. Cold. Unapproachable.

The rumors helped. “Emotionless.” “Freak.” “Too dangerous.” Whatever. You let them talk.

The truth was worse.

You weren’t numb. You weren’t a freak.

You just knew what happened when you felt too much.

The fire didn’t listen when you were sad. It didn’t stop when you were scared. It didn’t care that you were just a kid when it first burst out of you and left your mother screaming. It just burned.

It always burned.

So you shut yourself off.

Better to be nothing than be a danger to everyone.

You thought Bakugou of all people would agree with that. That he’d take one look at you and think too volatile. Too much fire. Not worth it.

But instead, he looked at you like you were built from molten metal. Something forged, not broken. Something strong enough to keep.

He didn’t fall for the mask. He fell for what was underneath.

Which was exactly why it hurt so fucking bad when he saw the truth.

You hadn’t even heard him walk in. You’d been changing in your dorm, tank top halfway over your head, back to the door, heat still clinging to your skin after an unintentional flare-up in training.

Burns. Old. Faded. New. Raised. Raw.

A map of every moment you lost control.

You froze when you heard the door creak open.

Then his voice, too casual (for Bakugou at least): “Oi! You left your gear in the—”

Silence.

Dead silence.

You turned like a shot, yanking your shirt down, voice low and shaking. “Get out.”

Bakugou didn’t move.

His eyes were locked on your back—on the places where your skin still peeled around scar tissue. His jaw was clenched tight.

You could practically feel your body temperature spiking. The shame, the panic, the heat rolling off your core like smoke.

“I said get out,” you snapped, voice colder now, trying to kill it before it became anything else.

“No,” he said simply.

You blinked.

“What—?”

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“No,” he repeated, louder. “I’m not fucking leaving like that.”

You felt the heat spike again. You turned your back to him, like that would hide anything. Like you could retreat fast enough to make this moment un-happen.

“I didn’t mean for you to see—”

“Tch. So what?”

You blinked.

Your voice cracked. “So what? So what? You saw what I am—”

“What you are?” he snapped. “You think those scars change that?”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Your throat was closing up. You hated this.

He wasn’t supposed to see.

“Look at me,” he growled, voice low and steady.

You didn’t.

So he crossed the room in three strides and gently—not soft, but careful—grabbed your wrist and turned you just enough to face him.

His expression was a storm. Anger. Fury. Pain. But none of it was directed at you.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like?” he said. “To hurt people by accident? To lose control of something that’s part of you?”

You stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I’ve blown up shit I didn’t mean to. I’ve cracked ribs, burned hands, ruined friendships. You think I don’t carry that every day?”

“But it doesn’t scar you,” you whispered. “Not like this.”

He stopped. Something shifted in his face.

And then, carefully—his hands touched the hem of your tank top.

He didn’t move it. Just hovered there. Waiting.

You gave the smallest nod.

He lifted it. Slowly. Gently. Only enough to see. Only enough to show you he wasn’t afraid.

And then—quietly, roughly—he let out a breath.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

He let the fabric fall back into place.

Then, to your shock, he took a step forward. Close enough that you could feel the warmth off him. Not scared of the heat. Not flinching from the fire.

His voice was quieter now. Like gravel worn soft. “These don’t make you weak. They make you someone who survived something no one else could.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

He looked at you, and his eyes weren’t pitying. They weren’t disgusted. They were burning.

“You’re not a freak,” he said. “You’re fire. And fire doesn’t apologize for being strong.”

That broke you.

Not into tears. But into silence.

The real kind. The raw kind. The kind that says, someone finally sees me.

And Bakugou—Katsuki—he didn’t push.

He just reached for your hand. Wrapped his fingers around it like a promise. Held on, even as your temperature spiked again.

“You burn?” he said. “Then burn. I’ll stand right fuckin’ here.”

[russellbee]

I MIGHT SAY SOMETHING STUPID (MV1)

max verstappen x driver!reader (team & gender are ambiguous) summary. you've never been good at talking to people. you can never form the right words, hold eye contact, or in worst cases, think before you speak. so truthfully, you're not really surprised when you end up confusing max with your spontaneous confession. unbeknownst to both of you, lando brings you back together. (writing, texts, + a bit of smau) (3.3k) warnings. for self-hate & mentions of hate comments, mentions of anxiety(!!!), everyone is confused and oblivious (except lando!), george and max rivalry is very present, mentions of alcohol & intoxication, use of y/n, reader has parents (and is close-ish with them), sorry if your name is spencer (the name is used for a friend), george doesn't have a gf(!!!), mentions of sex (but it’s really nothing), and cursing. andi's note!! inspired by my beautiful adhd brain 😍😍 (and my max obsession, ofc!) the title is from 'i might say something stupid' by charli xcx but the song doesn't have anything to do with the fic!

nav+masterlist

You've seen multiple media outlets say that your mouth is disconnected from your brain with the amount of (accidental) out of pocket things you've said. Your first post-race interview in F1 ended with you severely embarrassed because you tried to make a joke but the way you worded it made it sound rude. You had backtracked as soon as you realized how it came off (honestly, it took too long) but you still had the comments you'd seen online stuck in your head.

Every season in F1 you get increasingly more nervous to talk in interviews or to the other drivers; the comments and articles gnawing at your self esteem. But with Max it's always been different. He can laugh off an unintentional brash remark or just raise an eyebrow and in a snap you'll realize what went wrong. So, because of how easy it is to talk to Max you've become close.

You're in Abu Dhabi, the season's ended and George Russell is getting on your nerves. He's in your sight, talking to Lando and Alex; laughing. You don't dislike George, he's always been nice to you but your love for Max trumps your like for George. Love?

You're just a little tipsy. It's fine.

As long as George doesn't go near you maybe you won't open your mouth. It's always hard to stop talking the second you get alcohol in your system; not a single word is filtered, it all just comes out.

Someone is staring at you, it better not be George because he knows what you'd do for—

"Are you alright?" Max sits down next to you, gin & tonic in hand. He's so— warm. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his jeans. (It's not really warm enough for shorts but you couldn't remember the weather from last year, so you're stuck in a pair of shorts you brought to Qatar.)

"Huh?" What he said comes back to you and you stammer, "Oh, sorry. I'm fine just thinking. I guess."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah, y'know." You really are thinking; thinking about how good his cologne smells and wondering if it clings to him night and day. Does he always smell this great? How have you never noticed this?

"What are you thinking— Do you ever feel like, really obsessed with someone? Like you see them and you want them. Bad." You cut through his question with your own (stupid) question. Neither of you are looking at each other. You're too focused on not looking at him, actually. Why do you always do this? Did you never learn how to talk to people?

You're so busy panicking that you don't notice your eyes are still on George, and Max has noticed; his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Had he been reading things wrong?

You're waiting at your gate when you get the text. You feel your phone buzz against your thigh and you hope, and hope that it's Max. You're terrified to message him first, worried he heard the meaning of your question and didn't want to acknowledge it. He hadn't said anything last night. Maybe he's finally sick of you. Can't even let him speak, or think before you talk with a single drop of alcohol in your body. You squeeze your eyes tight and will your brain to stop talking. Then, after a deep breath you open Whatsapp and see it's from Alex.

alex albon

did you tell max to apologise to george?

You blink. What? Never in your life would you think Max would apologize to George. You wouldn't tell him to either. What had gotten into him? Who would be able to change his mind like that?

alex albon

y/nnn

you have read receipts on ik you saw this

You sigh, trying to slow down your brain so you can make your thoughts coherent for Alex.

you

sorry i was thinking

didn't tell him to do that

idk why he would, it's not like him

alex albon

alright thanks 👍

i think we're all confused rn haha

Your boarding group is called and you feel a little bit of annoyance bubble in you. This is gonna be stuck in your mind for the entire flight.

the best rookies

lando

i think y/n likes george

or that's what max thinks at least

alex

and how did you come to this conclusion?

george

That makes no sense

Y/n and I don't talk that often

lando

i saw them together b4 y/n left

they were staring at us

prob george tho

considering everything

george

Many people stare at us, Lando

lando

you don't getttt it

max looked like

mad but confused?? he was very focused on you

and y/n looked like they wanted the earth to swallow them

v embarrassed yknow

alex

y/n probably just said smth wrong

can't really see them liking george

george

If anything, Y/n likes Max

lando

max doesn't care when they do that tho

ik y/n likes max thats like super obvious

ugh u guys dont get it at all 😒

You had practiced your speech for the awards, had repeated it over and over in your head. P3 in the championship, a first for you. Then you made a fool of yourself, stumbled over your words. People had laughed a bit, but in the back of your mind you acknowledge it had nothing to do with the jokes you attempted. At least you didn't have to take any more photos.

Lando finds you as you're about to leave, wiping the tears off of your cheeks and steadying your breathing. "You weren't that bad you know?" Lando teases and you let out a breathy laugh. "Fuck off." He laughs and you both start to leave the venue.

You make meaningless small talk. Lando is going to ski with friends and you'll be visiting a childhood friend, Spencer, in London. You're both anticipating a better season. The valets go to retrieve your cars, and you're both left standing on the sidewalk. It's a little humid, but not enough to make you want to blast the AC.

"Did you see George's post on Insta?" Lando asks after the silence has settled. Your face scrunches up, "Sorry?" You would've been fine to stay quiet until one of your cars arrived and you'd say goodbye. Lando had other plans, apparently.

"His post saying goodbye to Lewis. The last picture was nice, wasn't it?" You feel like there's something Lando's searching for but you can't put the pieces together. "I don't follow George on Insta. I— It's not like I don't like him, it's just. We're not really close?" Lando raises a brow, and it's not like when Max does it. It's something else, and you don't understand. You want to ask why, what he's thinking, but the valet parks your car in front of the sidewalk before you can.

Lando moves forward when the valet gets out, holding the driver's side door open for you. What is going on? You look at Lando, questions floating in your head and then hesitantly get into your car. "Have a nice off-season." Lando's grin is triumphant. Not like when he's at the top of a podium, something different and unfamiliar, yet kind.

"Yeah, thanks." Maybe you just don't know him well enough.

Lando double checks everything. He looks through his and George's mutuals and looks through the likes on George's end-of-season posts. He's never been more determined to prove Alex and George wrong. (And getting you and Max together, of course!)

Oscar looks at him weird 'cause he's grinning at his phone, then teases him, asks him if he's got a girlfriend. Lando laughs it off, because how is he supposed to say that he's investigating into some grid drama? That he's trying to understand what happened after Abu Dhabi, with you and Max? George has been ruled out as a player in this game, none of you are that close.

In London, you facetime your parents. They show you everything in their little villa that you rented out for them, the sandy beaches and the bright ocean. They tell you that they miss you and you repeat the sentiment. A part of you misses Max more, and you try to push that down.

Spencer orders pizza, and you both relax on the couch as you wait for it to arrive. They make a noise, a bit contemplative but unsurprised, and you look up from your own phone. Spencer's looking at you with a wolfish grin. "Oh, no."

"Have you seen this?" Their voice is teasing as they hand you their phone. It's opened to a post on the F1 Instagram account, the caption reads: Celebrating Max's 4th WDC with pictures of the best friendship on the grid 🏆. You gape slightly at the first picture; it's of you and Max in Zandvoort '23 on the podium. You both have bright smiles, your focus is on drenching Max with your champagne. He's laughing, accepting the spray. You don't bother to look at the rest, a sick feeling building in your stomach that you've begun to associate with Max. You know what it means, but you can't acknowledge it now. You haven't talked in over 2 weeks.

The pizza arrives and Spencer makes you pay. You can't get yourself to eat a lot, too stuck in your mind to acknowledge your hunger. When you lay in bed later that night, you feel sick. You know it's not the food, you know what it is. In the back of your mind you wonder if you'll ever be able to accept your feelings or if you'll just have to get over it.

lando norris has made a groupchat

monaco dinner 😁😁 (alex albon, george russell, max 🏆, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, you)

lando norris

alright everyone. need to know when you're all returning to monaco

"You're up to something," Oscar says from beside Lando. Lando raises a brow, a teasing grin on his lips. "Whatever do you mean, Osc?" His teammate rolls his eyes before scanning the table, landing at the empty seat next to George. Everyone is here, except you. Lando pretended he got a text from you saying that you'd be late, when in reality that's not the case. He told you the reservation was for twenty minutes later than he told everyone else. His plan needed to work and he didn't want you arriving earlier than intended.

"Y/n, someone who is always scared of coming late they come fifteen minutes early, isn't here. I'm assuming you have nothing to do with this?" Lando's grin grows wider. "Mate."

"Just wait."

You arrive at the restaurant 5 minutes early, since you had to walk and that led you to being noticed by some fans. When you go up to reception and say who you'll be sitting with, the host raises a brow before directing you to a table in the far back of the restaurant. Everyone is already there, drinks on the table. Worried, you look at your watch to see it isn't even the time Lando sent. You're early.

The only seat open is at the end of the table, to the right of George. It's also right across from Max. He looks surprised to see you, putting away his phone as you sit down. George says hi and asks you how your break has been so far. You make pleasant, friendly conversation with him. When Charles asks you a question you turn your attention to him, and notice that Max's mood has visibly soured. He must notice you looking, because he inserts himself into Alex and Carlos' conversation. You bite your cheek, trying not to seem annoyed or disappointed. You still haven't talked, and it's been seven weeks. He's liked your posts; the one from your trip to London, a set of gym photos your team took, and your photos from your other trip. No comments, just likes.

He doesn't talk to you for the rest of the dinner, instead he watches you make conversation with your other drivers. You stumble over your words, make mistakes and try to laugh it off. It's nice to talk to them, it just requires more energy. With Max, you don't have to worry about your never-ending rambling or your stories that tend to not make sense. It's easy. You miss it.

Dinner ends, you all split the check and go your separate ways. After getting your card back you head to the bathroom, just standing in silence for a few seconds. You need a break, especially if you run into some fans on your way home. The more you talk and force your brain to try, the more exhausted you get. The easier it is to snap or say something completely wrong. No one deserves to be on the receiving end of that.

You scrub your hands over your face, trying to wake yourself up. In your pocket your phone buzzes once. Then twice.

max 🏆

Are you still here?

I didn't see you leave.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you make yourself type slowly. Your hands are shaking. You need to get a grip.

you

yeah, haven't left yet

you're still here then?

max 🏆

Yep. Meet you at the entrance?

you

sure

As you leave the bathroom your brain has fired up again, what the fuck, repeating in your head consistently. Because, what the fuck? Why has Max all of a sudden decided to talk to you? What changed his mind?

He's standing in the waiting area, his plain white t-shirt covered by a jacket you recognize from the Alphatauri website. The corner of your lip twitches, as you fight back a smile. He's so predictable.

"Hey." His voice is quiet, like he was scared that you were lying. Like you'd hide in the bathroom till he left. Even though you're mad at him, you can't see yourself doing that, ever.

"Hi. Um, nice break so far? We haven't talked a lot," You let out an awkward laugh, cringing internally. Why did you bring that up? And in the first sentence too?

"I'm sorry about that, I've been busy," Max's smile is weak and your heart deflates a bit because you know when he's lying. He doesn't do it often, so it's easy to tell. "I meant to text you, really." But that isn't a lie. Huh. You stare at him for a second trying to make sense of what's going on.

"Did you drive here?"

"No, didn't have time to get gas. I mean— I did, I just forgot because I've been doing other stuff." Max smiles and everything feels almost normal again. The seven weeks of silence still looms over the conversation, like it's preparing to end your friendship forever. "I'll drive you. You didn't move, right?" He has a smile on his face, the one when he's trying to be funny. You feel that sick feeling building, and your skin warms.

"No, I should though. Apparently my neighbor almost set the complex on fire, and the one across from me she— she did something weird, I can't remember. But I know it caused a meeting for the building about some policy and everyone was really mad at her," You ramble, voice picking up as you get that giddy feeling, when you know you're really being listened to. Max leads you to his car and you get into the passenger seat. On the drive to your building, you finally remember the reason why your neighbor got in trouble.

"She got in trouble because she had sex on her balcony or something, and then someone saw and reported it. Holy shit, I can't believe I forgot that!" You laugh, face scrunching with your smile.

"Your neighbor?"

"Yes!" It feels really good to talk to Max again, to feel a true connection when you talk to him.

lando norris

hey mate

how's y/n?

max

Good?

Do you not have her number?

lando norris

no haha sorry

thought you guys were dating

things seemed off just wanted to make sure

max

Right.

We're fine

lando norris

but not dating? (max has reacted with 👍)

Everything has been good with Max. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders now that you can talk to him again. You flew with him to Bahrain and now Australia. Media day is tomorrow, and Lando has texted you asking if you want to go explore, like neither of you have ever been to Melbourne. You say yes, anyway.

You're in the elevator going down to the lobby, when it stops at another floor. George is standing on the other side of the doors, and he smiles at you as he walks in. "Hanging out with Max?" He asks as the doors slide shut.

"No, Lando invited me out. He said he wanted to explore, which I don't really understand because he's been to Melbourne multiple times. Also, Oscar's his teammate so, I don't—," You stop yourself. "It'll probably be fun though, it's Lando."

"Lando invited you out?"

"Uh— Yeah? Why?"

"He invited me out as well, that's all." Oh.

Is he trying to set you and George up? The thought hits you like a truck and your nose scrunches up involuntarily. First, the questions about his Instagram and then making you sit next to him at dinner. You feel warm, anger building inside you. Is Lando oblivious?

↳ user since when are they friends????

↳ user you left out the part that lando was with them 💀

You and George walk back together, an awkward silence hanging over you. It was a fun day. You took pictures, ate good food. You had fun. It was just awkward because it seemed both you and George knew what Lando was trying to do.

You're waiting for the elevator when George turns toward you. You shift your eyes toward him, trying to make sense about what he's about to do. "Do you like me?"

Your eyes widen and for a moment all you can do is stare at George. "No, I— I don't know where Lando got the idea that I like you, but I don't." You're trying to be nice in case George does actually like you, but he lets out a breath of relief.

"I'm really sorry, Lando is..."

"He's Lando, I know." The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You both walk in and George hits the button for your floors. "You do like Max though, right?" Once again you find yourself speechless. George laughs, cheeks turning red.

"Sorry, it's— It's really obvious, I don't know how Lando missed it." You're burning with embarrassment when you look away from George and mutter, "It's not that obvious." He cracks up, and you feel yourself growing warmer.

Thankfully for you, George gets off soon enough and it's just you. When you step off the elevator, you notice someone leaning against the wall by your door, scrolling on their phone. They look up when you come to a stop. It's Max, in another plain t-shirt and skinny jeans. You may hate the skinny jeans but they really show off his thighs, so it's not that bad. "Hi."

Max walks over to you, stopping so there's only a few inches between you. You can smell his cologne, see how blue his eyes are, and how his hair is a little out of place. He opens his mouth to speak but you speak before he can. "You look good, I mean—," You cut yourself off to prevent the inevitable ramble about how good he looks; your friends have heard it numerous times. Max blinks, the beginning of a smile on his face before he leans in and kisses you.

You make a little noise in surprise before you reciprocate, you reach for him blindly, grabbing onto his shoulder. It's easy kissing Max. You've been waiting for this, the soft press of his lips against yours, the heat of his hand against your face. The same sick feeling rests in your stomach, and you feel it; the way your heart speeds up when he's near and the hot flush that builds on your skin when he touches you. You never want it to end.

yourusername close friends story

[caption: @.maxverstappen1 🤍]

view replies

lando OMG DID IT FINALLY HAPPEN??

yourusername yes...? lando oh thank god my plan worked i was so close to locking you two in a closet yourusername HUH????

[gf2bellamy]

Hi!! I love your writing so, so much!! The way you write for the Criminal Minds men is so beautiful! I wanted to request a Derek Morgan x reader, in which their relationship is still friendship (basically like what Penelope and Derek have), but before a mission the reader can't hold it in anymore and accuses Derek of not seeing her (you know what I mean). He's baffled and they fight about it, so they go on the mission mad at each other. The unsub nearly hurts Derek and the reader jumps in and takes his place, and she might get a biit hurt. After the unsub gets arrested, Derek confesses how he sees the reader?

Thank you so much!! If this request doesn't inspire you and you don't want to write this, I completely understand!!

notice — derek morgan

pairing: derek morgan x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of sadistic unsub , getting grazed by a knife in the ribs a/n: I haven't had the chance to write for derek before and i'm so glad i did !! thank you for your request , hope you like it <333

You stifled a yawn, blinking sleep from your eyes as you leaned against the cool metal of the building's wall, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

The stillness of the early morning left you feeling like you were the last person on Earth. You had dragged yourself out of bed after hitting the snooze button—what, three times?—and had barely gone through the motions of your morning routine, still groggy from too little sleep.

Thankfully, you weren't late, but there was no time for coffee, and your brain felt like it was running on empty. 

You checked your watch again, your fingers stiff as you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. The elevator was taking its time, and you couldn't help but wonder if you'd have enough energy to get through the day without falling face-first into your desk. 

Before you could drift too far into your thoughts, you felt it—his presence. It was like a warm breeze that swept through the cool space before his voice followed, smooth and teasing, like a familiar melody. 

"Well, good morning to you," Derek's voice purred from behind you. 

Startled, you turned just as he casually draped an arm over your shoulders, his grin effortlessly wide and charming.

In his free hand, he held a steaming cup of coffee—your salvation. He brought it up to your face, offering it like a peace offering. Or maybe, like a hero presenting a lifeline. 

"Oh my God," you blurted, a small laugh escaping as you immediately grabbed the cup from his hand, your fingers wrapping around the warmth like it was the most precious thing in the world.

You raised it to your lips, inhaling the rich, comforting aroma before taking a sip. The warmth spread through you, slowly bringing your senses back to life, like a blanket on a cold day. 

"You’re an angel," you muttered, your eyes half-closed in bliss. 

Derek smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, yes, I am." 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open with a soft whoosh. Derek held the door open for you, still grinning as he stepped in behind you. 

"You're not usually this late," he said, the teasing edge to his voice not lost on you. 

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar spark of banter. "Well, you are," you shot back, your voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

You took another sip of the coffee, feeling a little more awake with every passing second. 

Derek chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Touché," he replied. He leaned against the wall.

The elevator doors dinged open, and Derek, as effortlessly charming as ever, took a step back, allowing you to exit first. "After you, gorgeous." 

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was a warmth in your chest that hadn't been there before. "Maybe you are an angel after all, Morgan." 

He flashed a knowing smirk as you walked past him. “I try.” 

You made your way over to the table in the conference room, settling into the chair next to Derek, your heart still feeling the buzz from the coffee. Garcia, as always, greeted you with her trademark warmth and enthusiasm, handing you the case files with a bright smile on her face. 

"Good morning, my two lovelies!" she exclaimed, practically radiating positivity as she shifted her gaze between you and Derek.

Her smile was infectious, and despite the rough morning, you couldn't help but return it, though your mind kept drifting to the man sitting beside you. 

One by one, the rest of the team trickled in, each taking their usual seats around the table. You could feel Derek's presence next to you.

Garcia, now standing in front of the large screen, began her presentation.

The room quieted, all eyes turning toward her. You listened intently as she outlined the details. This was a tough one.

The unsub was vicious, sadistic, and methodical—someone who clearly enjoyed the chaos they left behind. 

As Garcia continued, you could feel the weight of the case pressing in on you. You knew this would be a tough one to crack, but you couldn't help but notice the growing unease in your chest.

It wasn’t just the case that had your mind racing, though.

Derek’s proximity to you, his presence, had a way of making your heart beat just a little faster. It wasn’t unusual, but lately, those feelings had been harder to suppress.

You could feel your emotions growing stronger with each passing day, a warmth that spread every time his eyes lingered just a bit too long on you or when his voice dropped to that teasing tone that made your heart flutter. 

The problem was that, despite everything, you didn’t think he saw you that way.

He was always kind, always playful, but never in that way.

You were just a teammate to him, a friend. Your feelings had become harder to ignore, but you'd spent so long keeping them buried that you couldn’t bring yourself to confront them, especially when you weren’t sure how he felt. 

When the meeting finally ended, you gathered your things, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You couldn't let your emotions get in the way of the case. You had to focus. 

As you made your way toward your desk to grab your bag, you couldn’t help but notice Derek walking up beside you.

You glanced up at him, and for a brief moment, your gazes met. Your heart skipped, but you quickly looked away, not trusting yourself to hold eye contact for too long. 

"Ready for this?" he asked with a grin, the same teasing tone in his voice. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach, the ones that always appeared when he was close. 

"Yeah," you replied, forcing a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. "Let’s get it over with." 

The two of you made your way in silence toward the jet, the hum of the plane filling the space between you.

You took your seat in front of him once you were onboard, setting your bag down on the seat next to you. You tried to keep your focus on the task ahead, the case, but the subtle presence of Derek right infront of you kept tugging at your thoughts.

You could feel his eyes on you occasionally, his gaze warm and steady, and it made everything inside you ache. 

You hated how much you felt for him, especially knowing that he didn’t see you in that way. But it was getting harder to ignore the way he made you feel.

Every time he flashed you that smile, or joked with you in that familiar way, you felt yourself inching closer to the edge of your self-control. 

You pulled your legs up onto the seat, hoping to make yourself more comfortable as you pulled the file out of your bag, trying to focus on the case.

What would it be like if he saw you the way you saw him? 

The two days that followed felt like a lifetime. The victims were piling up, each one more gruesome than the last. The unsub’s trail was cold, scattered clues leading nowhere concrete, and the pressure to find answers was bearing down on everyone.

You could feel the tension in the team, in the way everyone spoke in clipped tones and exchanged tired glances.

But it wasn’t just the case that was eating away at you—it was him. 

Derek. 

Every glance, every moment spent close to him, only made the ache in your chest grow. It was like carrying a secret that had grown too heavy, and every passing hour made it harder to hold it all in.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Not when your feelings for him were screaming to be acknowledged.

Not when you felt so invisible in a way that cut deeper than any words ever could. 

You sat in a quiet corner of the conference room, scanning the files for the hundredth time as Derek approached. He sat down beside you, close enough that his presence was palpable. His voice was soft, concerned, as he leaned slightly toward you. 

“Hey, you doing okay?” he asked, his dark eyes searching your face. 

You hesitated, staring down at the paper in your hands. His kindness only made it harder.

It was so typical of him—caring, attentive—but always stopping short of what you really wanted from him. 

“I’m fine,” you muttered, your voice quieter than you intended. 

Derek tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “C’mon, talk to me. You’ve been... off these past couple of days. I get it—the case is brutal. But you know I’m here, right?” 

Those words. I’m here. The irony made your stomach twist. He was always there—always—but not in the way you wanted. Not in the way you needed. 

You glanced at him, heart pounding in your chest. The words were on the tip of your tongue, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled out. 

“No, Derek, you’re not,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. 

His brows furrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “What are you talking about? Of course, I’m here.” 

You closed the file in your hands, setting it down with a bit more force than necessary. “You’re here as a teammate, as a friend, sure. But that’s it, isn’t it? That’s all you see me as.” 

Derek blinked, his confusion deepening. “Wait—what? Where’s this coming from?” 

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “It’s been there for a while, Derek. I just... I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt to be invisible to you.” 

“Invisible?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly. “You think I don’t see you? That’s insane.” 

“Is it?” you shot back, your voice trembling. “Because it doesn’t feel like you do. Not really. You’re always so—so charming and kind, but it’s like you don’t even realize I’m standing right here, Derek.” 

His jaw tightened, his posture stiffening as he leaned back in his chair. “That’s not fair,” he said, his tone sharper now. “You’re acting like I don’t care about you—like I haven’t been there for you every damn time you’ve needed me.” 

“You don’t get it,” you snapped, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I don’t want just a teammate or a friend. I want—” You stopped yourself, the weight of the confession hanging heavy in the air. 

Derek’s eyes widened slightly, realization dawning on him. “You want what?” he asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. 

Your heart hammered in your chest. “I want you to see me the way I see you,” you admitted, your voice breaking. “But you don’t, and I can’t keep pretending that doesn’t hurt.” 

Derek’s expression shifted—confusion melting into something sharper, rawer, and unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching unbearably.

Then, with a frustrated shake of his head, he ran a hand over his face, clearly wrestling with his emotions.

Before he could continue, Hotch stuck his head into the room, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere. “We’ve got a lead. We’re heading to South Water Street. Get ready.” 

You didn’t wait for Derek to respond. Without another word, you stood and walked out of the room.

You didn’t trust yourself to look back at him—not now. Instead, you grabbed your go-bag and slipped into a car with Emily, breaking the usual routine of riding with Derek. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything, but you could feel her curious glances as you stared out the window in silence, your mind spinning with the weight of what had just happened. 

The scene was chaos when you arrived. Police lights flashed against the darkened streets, the air thick with the sounds of radio chatter and distant shouting. The team moved quickly, splitting up to cover the area.

You and Emily paired off while Derek went with Rossi. You could feel his eyes on you as you adjusted your vest, but you refused to meet his gaze, your resolve hardening as you stepped away. 

The unsub’s trail had led you to an abandoned warehouse, the kind of place that seemed designed to house nightmares. The team swept through the building methodically, each step echoing on the cold concrete floors.

You stayed close to Emily, your weapon drawn, your heart pounding in your ears as the tension of the situation mounted. 

Then you heard it—a faint sound, like something scraping against metal. Your eyes met Emily’s, and she gave a quick nod, the two of you moving toward the noise. 

But before you could reach the source, chaos erupted. 

A figure darted out from the shadows, heading straight for Derek and Rossi, who had entered from another side of the building. The unsub was fast—faster than you anticipated—and before anyone could react, he lunged at Derek with a knife. Everything slowed, the world narrowing to the flash of steel and Derek’s wide-eyed realization as the blade arced toward him. 

Without thinking, you moved. 

“Derek!” you shouted, throwing yourself between him and the unsub. The blade caught you on the side, a sharp, burning pain spreading through your ribs as you tackled the unsub to the ground.

The impact knocked the wind out of you, but you held on, wrestling the weapon from his grasp as Derek and Rossi surged forward to subdue him. 

The unsub fought viciously, but Derek pinned him with a force that left no room for escape. You lay on the cold floor, clutching your side as the pain flared, hot and unrelenting. Derek’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and panicked. 

“Are you crazy?!” he shouted, dropping to his knees beside you the moment the unsub was restrained.

His hands hovered over you, his eyes wide with a mix of anger and fear. “Why the hell would you do that?” 

You forced a shaky smile, your breath coming in short gasps. “Guess I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” 

“Don’t joke about this,” he snapped, his voice cracking. He pressed his hands to your side, trying to stem the bleeding. “You should’ve let me handle it. What were you thinking?” 

“I was thinking…” you murmured, wincing as he applied pressure, “that I’d rather it be me than you.” 

Derek froze, his jaw clenching as he stared at you. For a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear—the chaos of the scene fading into the background as his dark eyes bore into yours. 

“You don’t get to make that call,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “Not when it comes to me.” 

You managed a weak laugh, the sound laced with pain. “Looks like I already did.” 

Before he could respond, paramedics arrived, and Derek reluctantly stepped back to let them work. But he didn’t go far. He stayed close, his eyes never leaving you, his jaw tight with a mix of anger and worry. 

The paramedics guided you to the ambulance parked just outside the warehouse, their hands gentle as they helped you up onto the edge of the vehicle. You winced as they peeled back your vest and inspected the wound, the sting sharp despite the numbing cold of the antiseptic. The cut wasn’t deep—thankfully—but it would definitely leave a mark. 

Derek stood nearby, pacing restlessly as he watched them patch you up. His jaw was tight, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, but you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, his usual easy charm replaced by something raw and unguarded. 

The unsub had been cuffed and hauled off by local authorities, the team dispersing to handle the aftermath. But Derek stayed, his focus locked on you like nothing else mattered. 

Once the paramedics finished, they gave you a reassuring nod and stepped away, leaving the two of you alone in the muted glow of the ambulance’s lights. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. 

“You should go to the hospital,” he said finally, his voice low and strained. 

You gave him a weak smile, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m fine, Derek. It’s not that bad.” 

His eyes darkened, and he took a step closer, his hands clenching at his sides. “Not that bad? You jumped in front of a knife for me. Do you have any idea how—” He stopped himself, exhaling sharply. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

“I couldn’t let you get hurt,” you said softly.  

“That’s the problem,” he said, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. He shook his head, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. “You always put everyone else first, and it’s going to get you killed one day. You don’t think about what that would do to the people who care about you.” 

The words hit you like a jolt. “People who care about me?” you echoed, your heart pounding in your chest.

He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to collect himself. When he looked at you again, his expression was raw, unguarded. “It means that I care about you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “More than I should. More than I ever let myself admit.” 

Your breath hitched, the weight of his confession settling over you like a blanket. “Derek…” 

“No, let me say this,” he interrupted, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. “You think I don’t see you, but you’re wrong. I see everything. I see the way you light up when you solve a case, the way you fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. I see how you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, even when you’re breaking inside. And it kills me, because I’ve spent so long trying to ignore how much I feel for you—how much I need you—because I was afraid.” 

“Afraid of what?” you asked, your voice trembling. 

“Afraid that if I let myself love you, I wouldn’t be able to stop,” he said, his voice breaking. “Afraid that I’d lose you, and I wouldn’t survive that.” 

Tears stung your eyes as his words sank in, the raw honesty of them leaving you speechless. You reached out, your fingers brushing his, and he took your hand without hesitation, holding it tightly like it was the only thing grounding him. 

“I thought you didn’t see me,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “I thought I was just... someone on the team to you.” 

“You’re not just someone,” he said, his grip on your hand tightening. “You’ve never been just someone. You’re everything to me.” 

The tears spilled over then, and Derek stepped closer, his free hand coming up to cup your face. His touch was gentle, his thumb brushing away the stray tears as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. 

“I’m sorry it took me this long,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You managed a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch. “Took you long enough.” 

His forehead rested against yours, and he let out a shaky breath. “You scared the hell out of me tonight,” he murmured. 

“I'm sorry” you smiled softly, your voice still unsteady but filled with a newfound warmth.

Derek smiled back, as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Ten

A/N: Hello! I apologize that this is late, I meant to post last night but then I facetimed by bestie for 4 hours and got drunk. ANYWAYS, I present to you the final chapter of The Prince. Thank you so much for all your love and support on this story! I hope you enjoy this finale <3

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.6k Synopsis: Finally, we see the end of Jace and the reader's story.

Warnings: smut

Previous Chapter

Rhaenyra is understandably furious when Jace comes to see her the next morning. He had not wanted to leave you for long, so all he told her was a quick summary of the events in your room. She had wanted to rage, had wanted to know exactly everything that happened, wanted to see the proof for herself, but when he asked to postpone the meeting, she read the look in his eyes. It was fear. It was fading, but it was still there. Fear for you, fear for himself, fear that everything he had wanted was slipping through his fingers.

So she had let him leave, let him go to you, as long as he promised to find her first thing in the morning. Her rage had not abated in the night.

“If I could kill him again, I would,” she says, looking at the, thankfully, light bruising along his neck. Jace pulls back from her, not wanting the attention the bruises now gave him.

“Did you send word to the Iron Islands?” he asks.

“I sent a raven last night to his brother, the Lord Blacktyde."

“What does this mean for our standing?” he asks. Last night, besides his thoughts of dread that he almost lost you, he was also plagued by what the realm would think. Their position was still so new, to have an attack on his life so soon—

“The only thing the realm will know is that Lord Blacktyde attacked Y/N and the two of you fought him off,” Rhaenyra says.

“The two of us," Jace says softly. He brings his eyes to his mother's. She watches him delicately, like he might break with just a touch. "I'm fine, Mother," he says. She nods.

"I know."

"It looks worse than it is," he says. He wishes he could pull the collar of his doublet up, just to block them from her sight, and yours. Your eyes had been on the bruises all night long. "What of Y/N and I?” he asks. Rhaenyra smiles, her earlier rage ebbing away.

“Y/N saved your life, do you think I would deny her anything?”

“I was not sure,” he says, his smile spreading.

“I think it’s clear the two of you would do anything to stay together. I won’t get in the way. Before last evening, I had a few doubts, but after what Y/N did for you, and speaking with Baela, I trust this is the right decision."

"Baela?" he asks, furrowing his brow. "What did she say?"

“She seems excited about finding a new prospect,” she says. "Or a few."

"She does."

"You both have found happiness, and that is all I've ever wanted."

“Thank you,” Jace says, taking his mother’s hand with a smile. He feels more at ease, knowing that the events of last night only solidified your love.

The cool air of the gardens heals some of the pain inside of you. Of course, your hand still throbs after the maester had to redo your stitches. You are sore all over and have an angry bruise on your cheekbone, but amongst the flowers and the breeze, you feel light. The nightmare you lived in for years is over.

It doesn't feel real. Even after you went to your chambers this morning, looking down at the wet area the maids had scrubbed clean of Barun's blood, you still felt like you were dreaming. That you'd wake up and he would be waiting for you still.

You had woken up a few times in the night, startled from the dreams playing in your head. Jace had been there. His voice was still strained, but he said soothing words and held you close. He was the reason you could believe that it was over, that it would get easier.

He sent word for you to meet him in the gardens, but as you lap around the outer edge again, you still don’t see him. When you stop, its by the door you skipped out of months ago, to hide from your date.

Smiling, you realize where Jace is. You walk to the alcove with the fountain, the place where Jace first confessed his feelings for you. He is pacing beside the fountain when you walk up.

"Are you hiding from me?" you ask, jostling him from his thoughts.

"Never from you," he says, wrapping an arm around your waist. He left early in the morning, and he hadn't seen you until now. His eyes flit to the bruise along your cheek. It seems to only be getting darker as the day progresses.

"Jace," you say gently. His thumb brushes over the mark.

"He didn't suffer enough."

"It doesn't matter," you say with a shake of your head. "He's gone, and he does not deserve our remembrance." Against your better judgement, you look to the bruises along Jace's neck. Yours is darker, but his take up too much space on his beautiful neck.

"Y/N," he says, seeing the sadness in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jace. He never should have even come close to you."

"You never have to apologize for what happened."

"He hurt you."

"He hurt you, too," he says, a hand to your chin so your eyes meet his brown ones. "If this is the mark I must bear, so that he is out of your life, I'll wear them with pride."

"I don't deserve you," you say, a hand to his chest, your eyes starting to water.

"Of course you do," he says. You lean in to kiss his jawline once, twice. Jace is smiling softly when your lips meet his. The hand on your back tightens, holding you flush to him. When you pull back, Jace has a strange look on his face.

"What is it?" you ask.

"Do you remember the first time we came here?"

"Of course."

"You almost kissed me," he says, a shy smile growing on his face.

"That was a recurring pattern in our history, yes," you say. "But seems like we're past that." He smiles as he leans in again, his hand fisting in your hair, kissing your lips. He deepens it, backing you up until your legs rest against the fountain.

"Jace," you say, breaking away as he continues to kiss your face. You laugh when you say his name again. He breaks away, the smile still on his face.

"Sorry, just being back here reminds me of the last time, how much I wanted to kiss you back then," he says. "Sometimes, I can't believe this is real, that you love me back." You are smiling softly as you take his hand and kiss it gently.

"I know what you mean," you say. "It doesn't seem real. It's easier when I wake up next to you. Then I have the proof I'm not dreaming. I don't want to return to my chambers tonight."

"You don't have to," he says, squeezing your hand.

"It's not just the room," you say, "It's not being with you."

"I know, which is why I'm moving you into my chambers permanently."

"Jace, the message that would send--"

"What's wrong with a woman sharing the same room as her husband?" he asks. Confusion passes over your face for a moment, but quickly changes to amazement.

"What?" you choke out, the building emotions keeping you from saying much else. You need him to say it clearly, though.

"My mother has assured me that her blessing still stands. We can marry."

"Truly?" you ask.

"Yes," he says, pulling you close. "Doesn't this make you happy?" He studies your face.

"Oh, it absolutely terrifies me," you say with a laugh. "But it also makes me incredibly happy." He beams at you.

"You have nothing to be afraid of. Not when I'm at your side."

"I love you," you say, a hand to his face.

"I love you."

When he kisses you again, your arms wrap around his neck, and neither of you break away for a long while.

The wedding has been pushed until the bride and groom no longer have bruises marring their skin. The decision was also made that your wedding would be a private event. Although there would soon be a time when you would have to face the realm as princess, you want to stay in your bubble with Jace for as long as possible.

It's a lovely bubble to be in, too. To wake up next to him every morning, to learn more about him, to get to bask in his love and not hide away; you don't take it for granted for a second.

However, as the wedding approaches, the bubble gets closer to popping. You will only have five days of officially being his wife before you have to be presented as his princess.

Jace tries to keep your mind off of it, tries to keep you in the bubble. Still though, your anxious thoughts cloud your happiness.

Laying in bed now, you stare at the ceiling, imagining everything that can go wrong.

"What if they don't like me?" you ask aloud. Jace pushes out of the folds of your dress, wiping at his mouth.

“Why wouldn’t they like you?” he asks on a pant.

“Because I’m not what they expected, because our betrothal came out of nowhere.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“To the realm, it will appear so.”

“Y/N,” Jace say with a sigh, his hand tracing a soft pattern on your ankle. “They are going to love you because you will make a great queen. You are kind, smart, and not afraid to fight for the future of the realm.” He kisses your thigh and smiles. “Not to mention, you are so gods-damn beautiful, just a glance at you will have them bending the knee.”

“You exaggerate,” you say.

"I do not."

"You do," you say, "But I love you, still."

“I love you,” he says. “Now please, stop worrying and let me focus on what I was doing.”

“Yes, My Prince,” you say with a smile. You lay back as Jace’s lips meet your center, and this time, you let his mouth distract you from your worries.

Jace has never been happier. Watching you dance with his brother, he can't help the smile on his face. He hasn't been able to all day. From the moment he awoke, to when he finally saw you in your wedding dress, to the celebration now: his smile never fades.

The moment the song ends, he moves towards you, taking you from Joffrey's arms.

"Oh, hello," you say with a grin, falling into step with him.

"Hello," he says with a matching one.

"Joff and I barely finished our dance," you say.

"I didn't want to be apart from you any longer."

"Well I can understand that," you say. He kisses your lips easily.

"I'm so glad I can do that in front of everyone now."

"Me too."

"How does it feel?" he asks.

"Still so strange. Like I'm in the wrong shoes," you say. He shakes his head at you.

"There's something I've wanted to tell you," he says, "And I'm sorry it's on our wedding night, but I need you to know." You look at him nervously. "You've always been worthy. You didn't have to kill Barun and save me, you just had to be you."

You are silent for a moment, tears watering in your eyes. Your fingers are in his curls, playing carefully with them.

"I love you," you say.

"I love you."

"Brigitta," Jace says, his voice sensuously soft. "You are not needed for the night. I can help the princess undress." You look at him through the mirror in your bedroom, a sudden chill racing over your shoulders.

"Very well, Your Highnesses."

Jace doesn't even wait until she's left to come up behind you. His hand snakes around your waist, pressing his body into yours. He makes a sound low in his throat.

"I don't know if I will ever get used to that," you say, leaning your head back on his shoulder. He kisses your neck softly.

"Used to what?" he asks against your skin. His hands trail over your body, like it's the first time they've ever touched you.

"Being called princess," you say breathlessly. Jace's mouth closes on your neck, sucking gently.

"Why?" he asks. His hands move up to cup your breasts. He seems set on distracting you from speaking. He kneads them softly, eliciting a soft moan from you.

"Because I am not--"

"If you say anything about not being worthy," he says, breathless as he continues to feel your body, biting at your earlobe. "I will stop touching you."

"You can't comfort your new bride?" you ask, squirming against his body, the growing pressure there.

"I will do a lot to her," he whispers gruffly in your ear, "But pity her I will not." You grab at his hands, holding him still.

"Jace."

"Fucking look at you, Y/N," he says, meeting your gaze in the mirror. "You were meant to wear these clothes, this crown, this ring." He emphasizes his statement by squeezing your left hand.

"I was meant to wear this dress?" you ask. Jace grins.

"Not for much longer." His hand is gentle as it brushes your hair over your shoulder. Carefully, he pulls at the laces along your back. He moves agonizingly slow. Each time his fingers touch your bare skin, you shudder, until you are covered in goosebumps. Jace laughs against your skin.

"I love you," he says simply, then he lets your dress drop. "Princess."

"Jace," you start, but he cuts you off by turning you around, facing him.

"You better get used to it," he says. "There's no backing out now."

"I don't intend to."

"Good," he says, closing the gap between the two of you. He moves slowly, like he did your first night together. A hand in your hair, he explores your mouth easily. Your hands are on his chest, fiddling with the clasp of his cape. When it falls, it clatters to the ground. Jace pulls back from you with a soft laugh.

"Thank you, Princess."

"Stop that," you say, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

"Not until you're used to it," he says firmly. You loosen the ties at his side and he quickly tosses his doublet aside.

"This one, too," you say, a finger to the loose shirt he wears underneath.

"Yes, Princess," he says with a smirk. "I like when you tell me what to do." His shirt lands in a pile with your dress. His hand cups your cheek as he smiles at you, at your annoyance.

"I'm used to it now," you say, wrapping your arms around him. "You can stop now."

"It is so enjoyable though, Pri--" Your lips meet his, cutting him off. You want none of his slowness tonight. He can taste your need as your tongue slips into his mouth. He hums, bracing a hand on the back of your head to keep you close. The bed seems leagues away as he guides you towards it.

"Y/N," he says in breathless awe, watching your body as you sit on the bed. "You're my wife, my princess." A look passes over his face you know all too well.

"I know," you say, sitting up on your knees, so you are level with him once more. "Now, get up here and fuck your wife." He wraps warm hands around your waist. He speaks against your lips.

"My Princess." He crashes down on top of you, kissing you fiercely. You groan into his mouth, partially because of what he's doing, and partially because of what he called you.

He breaks for breath first, his mouth pink and smiling as he looks down at you. His arms bracket your face. You lean to the side and softly kiss his left hand.

"What is it?" you ask when he keeps looking at you.

"I can't decide between taking my time with you, or taking you roughly." He laughs at the whimper you make. "Slow it is."

"Jace," you say, gasping as his lips meet yours. He bites at your lower lip, eliciting another sound from you. His mouth moves down the length of your neck, leaving slow kisses in his wake.

He says your name, calls you princess, and tells you how beautiful you are, the entire way down your body. He stops at your hip, smirking at the face you pull.

"Y/N," he says lowly, smiling when your body jerks as he slide a fingers a finger through the wet warmth between your legs.

"Yes, My Prince?" you ask. He laughs.

"See, it's not so strange," he says. He adds another finger, both of them deliciously close to your clit, but never fully touching it.

"You were born into the name," you say breathlessly.

"So what?" His fingers slide inside of you. You moan, reaching for him. He holds your hand with his other.. You grip his hand as he pumps slowly. He kisses your inner thigh, slowly, slowly, moving his mouth to your center.

"Jace," you whine.

"Yes?"

"I--" His thumb finally grazes over your clit and you cry out.

"Tell me what you need, Princess." You roll your eyes, but it only makes him work his fingers harder. "Tell me."

"I need your mouth or your cock," you pant. Jace doesn't respond. The moment the words are out of your mouth, his is on your center. His touch is everything you want, and your body thrusts into him. You have devolved to a string of moans, swears, and gasps.

"You taste so good, Princess," he says against your skin. You can't even be annoyed, because when he's between your legs, whispering sweet nothings, it doesn't sound so strange.

"Jace," you cry out, when finally, the building pressure breaks in waves of pleasure. He rides you through it as always, a smile on his face when his fingers slide out of you. He moves up to your lips, kissing them sloppily.

"I'm never going to get tired of hearing my name on your lips," he says.

"I should just go back to calling you My Prince," you say. Your hand moves down to his trousers, working him through the fabric. His eyes flutter at your touch, and his intake of breath is near intoxicating.

"It means something entirely different now," he says, kicking his trousers off. When you touch him, the sound he makes has you smiling.

"You are My Prince," you say, kissing his lips slowly. Jace moans into your mouth.

"I need to be inside of you now," he says. You smile, nodding your head as you kiss him. You release your hand from his cock and he groans.

"So needy," you say, shifting on the bed, pushing him back until his back is against the headboard.

"Can you blame me, Princess?" he asks. You are shaking your head as you straddle his lap. Jace's hands are still greedy, grabbing at you anywhere they can touch. When you align his cock with your folds, his eyes are blown wide, filled with lust and love.

"I love you," you say.

"I love y--" He breathes in sharply as you slip him inside of you. He moans your name, and pulls your chest to his.

"Princess," he says breathlessly as you rock against him. Your arms are around his neck, giving him a view of your annoyed look.

"Stop with that," you say. He grips your hips, moving your body on his.

"I can't."

"I call you Jace, why can't you do the same?" You gasp when he shifts his angle slightly.

"Because you're finally my princess," he says, his breathing growing heavier.

"It's irksome," you say. His lips smile against your neck.

"I'm sorry, princess."

"Jace," you groan, grinding into him until he does, too.

"Let me do it, just tonight," he pants, "I want you to hear how beautiful it sounds." You don't respond, you just grab his face and kiss him. He holds your hips and drives your body against his. You are both quickly approaching your release, and Jace continues to moan 'Princess' into your ear. Per his request, you don't fight him on it. The more he says it, the less it seems ill-suited.

When he finally loses control and finishes inside of you, though, it is your name on his lips.

For a few moments, you are both silent, the room filled with only your breaths. You climb off of him, lying down at his side.

"So?" he asks.

"I could get used to it, I think. But only from your lips."

"That's a start," he says, leaning down to kiss you.

You stand along the balcony surrounding the ballroom, looking down at the throngs of people. The sight is beautiful. Ladies' ballgowns sparkle in the candlelight. Raucous laughter fills the room as wine is passed around.

The fact that all of this is for you feels incredibly wrong.

Just six days ago you were a title-less woman from the Vale, awaiting for you a life of nursemaiding, or marriage to a brute. It feels strange that now, you have what you have always dreamed about. What every young girl has dreamed about once in their life. You were married to a handsome prince. You were a princess. The rest of your life would be nothing but luxuries, and the juxtaposition is still jarring.

And somewhere, still inside of you, you felt as though you don't deserve it. That the life that had been laid out for you was the one you deserved. Your husband said otherwise, but in quiet moments like this, you feel out of place, like you don’t belong.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in red?”

You startle at Jace’s voice. He walks to your side, laughing softly. He is dressed in his finest, as well. The doublet he wears clings to his chest in ways that have you thinking about leaving the party altogether.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says. He leans up against the banister rail, surveying the crowd with you for a quiet moment.

“What are you doing up here, Y/N?” he asks.

“Just making a plan of attack,” you say with a smirk, resting your hand on the railing. The wedding ring on your finger sparkles in the light.

“They’re going to absolutely love you.”

“Untrue. Do you know how many of these men I left in the garden or lied to about a cousin needing my help?” you ask. Jace laughs, shaking his head.

“I think they’ll get over it. Besides, you’ll be queen one day. Whatever bad feelings they may have about you, they’ll put them aside to earn your favor,” he says. Your jaw tightens, reality washing over you that this is to be your life now.

“Y/N,” Jace says, standing upright and taking your hands. He turns over the right palm, looking at the scar there. He frowns and rubs it softly with his own thumb. “You are one of the strongest people I know. You can handle anything this court wields at you.”

“I’m not so sure,” you say quietly.

“I am,” he says. “I’m your husband now, Y/N, you should trust me.”

“I do,” you say, stepping closer to him slightly, meeting his eyes.

“Then trust when I say you’ve got this. And,” he says, squeezing your hand softly, “If we do hate it, we can always return to Dragonstone.”

“I don’t want to run,” you say, glancing out at the crowd. “Just hide.” Jace laughs.

“They’re going to love you, just as much as I do,” he says. He puts a hand to your cheek, making you look into his brown eyes. “In that dress, how could they not?” he asks. You are smiling when he leans in to kiss you.

His hand trails down your back, squeezing your backside playfully. You laugh into his kiss, opening it up with your tongue. Jace backs the two of you out of the light, up against a pillar in the shadow. His mouth claims yours, his hands greedy on your body.

“And just think,” he says, breaking away breathlessly, “If the party gets unbearable, we can always sneak off to do this.”

“Why go to the party at all?” you ask, pulling him back to your mouth with a hand in his curls. He laughs, but you know he won’t let the two of you stay like this for long.

“Come on,” he says when he pulls away. “I want to show off my princess.”

He leads you downstairs, just outside the banquet hall. For another few minutes, you keep him occupied with your lips on his, but then he breaks off.

"I'll announce you in a few minutes," he says, squeezing your hand.

"Dragonstone is always an option?" you ask. He smiles.

"Yes, but you won't need it."

"I love you," you say.

"I love you," he says. You cling to his words, gaining courage from them. He slips into the low murmurs of the crowd, leaving you alone. You hope he will be quick, because you aren't sure how long your courage will hold.

"Your Highness." The voice startles you, and when you turn to see Baela, your heart beat doesn't slow. "I'm sorry, I didn't meant to scare you."

"No, no, that's quite alright."

"What are you doing out here?" she asks with a smile. You haven't seen her since the wedding, and before then it was only in passing, or in large groups.

"Jace is going to formally present me," you say. Baela looks at you strangely.

"You're not used to it yet, are you? The title?"

"Not at all," you say with a laugh. Baela does, too, and it makes you relax a little.

"It'll take some time," she says sagely. You nod.

For a moment, it looks like she might leave, but you will hate yourself if you don't say what you must.

"Baela, Your Highness," you say, "We haven't talked very much since everything changed."

"Y/N," she says, smiling as she steps closer. "I want to talk to you, too."

"You do?"

"I know we haven't gotten to know each other, even before . . . everything happened," she says. You look down at your feet. "But I want you to know I'm happy for you. You make Jace so happy. I couldn't ask for anything better."

"Thank you," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "And I just have to say I'm sorry, for taking this from you." She gives you an easy smile.

"Do not worry for me," she says. "This change has given me a freedom I didn't know I could ever have. You have given me that."

"I'm glad for it. And glad for you," you say. "Jace is lucky to call you a friend."

"Thank you, Your Highness. Good luck, tonight. It will go quickly, I think."

"I hope so," you say. She gives you a smile as she enters the ballroom, too.

You stand still for a few minutes, a weight lifted off your shoulders you thought might never be. Knowing that Baela holds no anger for you, makes you believe that the rest might come easily, too.

When a guard waves you towards the door, you are ready. Your husband is on the other side, your family is on the other side. When the doors open and you hear Jace's voice, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Please allow me to introduce my bride, Princess Y/N Velaryon.”

[kokonoiis]

gentle lover── pt. 02 ❝ his favorite place to kiss you ❞

Ⅰ. tokyo revengers ft. r. ken, s. manjiro, b. keisuke, h. kazutora, m. takashi, s. haruchiyo Ⅱ. blurbs Ⅲ. tw. slight angst in sanzu's, and also slight mention of obsession in sanzu's. Ⅳ. a/n. second round lets fucking goooooo !! writing another round of guys because i know everyone deserves to be softly loved by their faves

── ryuguji ken. forehead taking care of people comes naturally to ken, everyone already knew that long before it was ever said out loud. he likes knowing that you've eaten three square meals a day, and that you were going to sleep on time and waking up early enough that you had time to lounge around before you really had to do anything. he liked to cook for you and take care of you, often doing your hair in any way that you were feeling that day, knowing intimate things about you without you ever needing to speak up and tell him. he just knew you, heart and soul. the surprising tenderness of a man like him especially shows when he's getting ready to leave for work that day, his fingers finding their way to your chin to tilt your head up as he kissed your forehead, lingering for a moment longer than truly necessary before pulling away. he'd let you worry over his appearance, straightening his collar and smoothing over his outfit. he'd tell you not to miss him too much as he goes out, and that he'll be home before you know it. he'll be thinking of your kiss throughout the entire day.

── sano manjiro. shoulder as much as mikey pretends he's strong as tough, he loves being in your arms. he loves being near you, able to touch your skin, feeling your warmth against his body. it's what brings him peace at night, and what calms him down when he needs a moment just to be human. he loves knowing you're safe, right there in his arms, and he's safe in yours. he doesn't have to worry about much, doesn't have to put on a brave front. he can just simply be mikey, a much softer person than people liked to give him credit for. and that softness is present when he snuggles into your body to press little kisses all along your shoulder, feeling the softness of your skin underneath his lips. sometimes he would stop kissing and just rest his forehead against your shoulder, breathing softly and just taking in the tranquility of the situation. you made him feel safe, and cared for, with your arms around his frame, holding him close to you like you never wanted to let him go. mikey could stay in your embrace forever, just like this for as long as you'd let him be.

── baji keisuke. lips keisuke is not a man who just waits for what he wants, he takes it whenever he feels the need. and that includes kissing you. he doesn't play around, not when he wants your lips on his, although he's always being told that he shouldn't be quite so... much with it. the way keisuke is much like his personality - fiery, strong, passionate. he kisses you like he's never going to be able to kiss you again and he doesn't want to regret his final kiss. even in front of others, he kisses you with the same passion, proudly proclaiming his love in front of anyone around. he doesn't shy away from the thought of people knowing you're his, and he's yours in turn. you mean so much to him that he couldn't possibly deny you of any type of kisses you wanted, but he loves the feeling of your lips on his, kissing him back even if he took you off guard with his kiss. you'll be able to feel him smile into this kiss as his hand finds your chin to steady you, keeping you there for a moment longer as he enjoyed himself. and when he does pull away, he pecks you one more time on your lips, just for good measure.

── hanemiya kazutora. jawline no matter how many times kazutora tries to tell you otherwise, he's impulsive. all the time, he does things without thinking much about it, whether its silly little blunders to accidentally creating a bigger problem that the two of you are going to have to tackle together, and that includes how he loves on you, too. he kisses you without having a direct goal in mind, he just wants to cover you in as many kisses as you'll let him before the two of you have to get on with life. he loves kissing your face, letting you know that you're loved everywhere, always mumbling something under his breath about how attractive he really found you with his hands in your hair. he'll kiss your jawline right underneath your ear, cuz he's able to feel the muscles in your face as you smile and giggle about his cute little ministrations. from there, he can choose where to kiss you depending on his mood. he could kiss lower down your neck until he gets to the crest of your neck, or he could kiss higher up until he reached your lips, it really just depends, but he always starts right there, and had no intention of changing that.

── mitsuya takashi. nose mitsuya really doesn't mean too, but sometimes he finds himself babying you just a little bit. he does enjoy taking care of people, but he also knows that people need to be independent and walk on their own sometimes, too. while he's more than willing to help you out with anything that you could possibly need of him, sometimes he realizes that he could treat you as if you weren't able to do it yourself. of course, he catches himself from doing this any time it starts, and his way of apologizing is always the same. a sincere sorry, saying that he knows you're more than capable of doing this on your own, but he's always there to help you if you need it, and then he presses his nose against yours in a little symbol of his affection for you, before moving away and giving the tip of your nose a little kiss, his hands holding both sides of your face in a loving embrace. it never fails to make you scrunch your nose and giggle a little bit, which is exactly what he was looking for. he loves making you happy, loves knowing that you trust him so much to have him by your side, and he'd kiss you as many times as you'd let him.

── sanzu haruchiyo. wrist knowing that you were alive and okay was everything to sanzu. he needed to know every day that the heart inside of your chest still beat. it wasn't incredibly obsessive, it was just him worrying. he worried that someday he might lose you, or that something bad might happen, even when life was good and calm. always being on alert, several times throughout the day, he would take your hand lovingly, turn it over, and gently press a kiss against your wrist. it was just a cute habit of his to you, but to him, he loved that he could still feel your pulse steadily beating, and especially when it starts to race a little bit for him. there, he would trail up his kisses from your pulse to your arm, depending on whether or not you had the time, until he got to your shoulder, and then your neck, until his lips rested against yours, and his body heat had invaded yours, holding you as close as possible with his fingers now laced in yours. kissing you like this meant the world to him. it let him know that you were safe and healthy in his arms, and that you were still as in love with him as he was with you. and to him, that was everything.

──kokonoiis 2024

[peaxchydreams]

accidental confession

izuku accidentally confesses his feelings for you in a moment of panic, leading to an awkward but sweet conversation.

----

middle school had always been a challenging time for izuku midoriya. as a quirkless boy dreaming of becoming a hero, he often felt isolated and misunderstood. however, there was one person who always seemed to make his days a little brighter, you. your kind smile and encouraging words were often the highlight of his day, though he never quite knew how to express his gratitude or growing feelings for you.

it was another typical afternoon after school. you and izuku were in the library, working on a group project together. the room was quiet except for the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper between the two of you. izuku's heart raced every time you leaned in to look at something in his notebook, your proximity making his thoughts scatter.

you noticed Izuku seemed more fidgety than usual, his face slightly flushed as he scribbled notes in his ever-present hero analysis notebook.

"hey, izuku," you said softly, placing a hand on his arm to get his attention. "are you okay? you seem a bit… distracted today."

izuku's eyes widened, and he immediately started to stammer. "i-i'm fine! really! just, um, a lot on my mind, i guess." he forced a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

you gave him a concerned look but decided not to press further. "alright, but if you need to talk about anything, i'm here, okay?"

izuku nodded, his heart pounding even harder. he took a deep breath, trying to focus on the project, but his mind kept drifting back to you and the way your eyes sparkled with kindness.

as the minutes passed, you two continued to work in relative silence. then, out of nowhere, a loud crash echoed through the library. someone had knocked over a stack of books, and the sudden noise startled both of you. without thinking, izuku reached out and grabbed your hand, his reflexes taking over.

"izuku?" you said, looking at him in surprise. his hand was warm and slightly trembling around yours.

realizing what he had done, izuku's face turned beet red, and he quickly let go, stammering apologies. "i-i'm so sorry! i didn't mean to—"

"it's okay," you interrupted, a gentle smile on your face. "you just surprised me, that's all."

izuku took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. he felt a wave of panic wash over him, and before he knew it, the words tumbled out of his mouth. "i like you!"

the library fell silent again, but this time it was a deafening silence. izuku's eyes widened in horror as he realized what he'd just blurted out. "i-i mean, i, um, i like you as a friend! no, wait, that's not what i meant either! i mean, i do like you as a friend, but also more than that, and—"

you blinked, trying to process his rapid-fire confession. a slow smile spread across your face as you watched izuku's panic. "izuku, are you trying to say you have feelings for me?"

izuku gulped and nodded, looking like he wanted to disappear. "y-yes," he managed to whisper, his voice barely audible.

you felt your heart swell with warmth. you'd always thought izuku was sweet and admired his determination, and hearing his confession made your own feelings clear. "izuku, i like you too."

his head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise and hope. "r-really?"

you nodded, taking his hand again, this time on purpose. "yes, really. i've liked you for a while now."

a smile slowly spread across izuku's face, relief and joy washing over him. "i'm so glad," he said softly, squeezing your hand.

the two of you sat there for a moment, just holding hands and smiling at each other, the world around you fading away. it was awkward, it was sweet, and it was the start of something wonderful.

[mysteryshoptls]

2024-2025 Player Birthday Login Message Lines

These are all the messages that you get from the boys when you log in on the birthday that you set in-game from 18 Mar 2024 to 17 Mar 2025! For those that want to hear them, you can find them in the Archive, under the tab その他　→　監督生バースデー④. (This will not be in your game archives until the birthday you set passes.)

You can find the 2021-2022 Birthday Login Message Lines here! You can find the 2022-2023 Birthday Login Message Lines here! You can find the 2023-2024 Birthday Login Message Lines here!

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. Thanks for always looking out for those two dorm students of mine. Actually, we're planning on hosting a reception this weekend at our dorm. I would like to invite you, as part of your birthday celebration. Heh. My apologies. Looks like that has caused you a little anxiety. No worries, I'll be beside you teaching you the proper manners the whole time.

Ace

Yo, [Yuu]. Happy Birthday― Mmkay, so let's get started on the birthday party. I'm just gonna pop on over to this one restaurant in town and nab some tasty-lookin' stuff! Just chill and wait here at Ramshackle... Hey, c'mon, I ain't tryin' to pull anything over on ya. Sometimes I just want to have a normal celebration too, y'know!

Deuce

[Yuu], Happy Birthday! Let me take you to go buy a prese... Eh? You're saying that I've already given you a present because I fixed the broken lights in Ramshackle the other day...? No way, you don't gotta hold back like that! I want to go all out for my pal's special day. That's what makes me happy.

Cater

[Yuu]-chan, Happy Birthday―☆ Did ya post on Magicam that it's your birthday? Oh, not yet? Then, let Cay-kun here with all his power and wisdom write a post for you! We'll attach a cool photo and some slammin' hashtags... Whaddya think? A perfect gift from me, or what?

Trey

Happy Birthday. So, about your present... I do have one. It's just... I was asking around for what to gift you and in the end, I couldn't really figure out what I should get... So in the end, after being at a loss, I ended up getting you this shirt. I look at it now and wonder what possessed me to pick this pattern... Yeah, I know, it's just laughable.

SAVANACLAW

Leona

Yeah, yeah. Your birthday's come 'round again, hooray. ...What're you doing, setting up a chessboard on the floor like that? You practiced just to win a game against me? Oho, so you're challenging me, then. Look at the pluck on this herbivore. So, what're you willing to bet, then? No way you're gettin' away with just a simple game after throwin' down the gauntlet at me like this.

Jack

So, it's your birthday today. Have you set up any new goals yet? What, you're going to surpass me in our classes? Heh, that's a hilarious joke. You really think you can beat me? But I'll take you on. If you get a better score on our next test, I'll get you some kind of present.

Ruggie

Happy Birthday―! 'N that means, I got you somethin' that's fittin' comin' from an upperclassman like me. Ta-da! A homemade fishing rod～ ...Ah, you totally just thought it's a cheap gift, didn'tcha! But this totally works! I know what it's like to go hungry too, y'know～ You're probably always goin' through things, so if you're ever in a pinch, make sure you use this!

OCTAVINELLE

Azul

A very Happy Birthday to you. Have you thought of a gift you'd like to get for yourself? Please, allow me to procure it for you... ...Oho, you have a keen eye to request something of that caliber. It may be considerably difficult to just anyone to acquire. HOW-EV-ER! If I were to handle it, that is a different situation altogether. I shall definitely make sure to retrieve it for you. Please wait expectantly.

Jade

Happy tidings for your birthday. I do hope this year will be another fruitful year for you. By the way, [Yuu]-san. Have you eaten yet? Oh, not yet, how wonderful. As a matter of fact, I thought I would treat you to something in my own little way. I only offer this with the best of intentions, of course. Fufu.

Floyd

Oh hey, Shrimpy-chan. It's your birthday today, huh. Mmkay, then I'll give you some snacks. I got these strange tastin' gummies, these wicked hard cookies, and some squishy jerky. Awesome, right? I got a ton, but all of them expire today, so. These are my presents to you, so you better eat them all without wastin' any, 'kay?

SCARABIA

Kalim

[Yuu], Happy Birthday! Here's your present, from me to you. Ahaha, did that surprise you? I tried making a pop up birthday card just for you. I also tried making a ton of paper flowers that we use during celebrations back in the Scalding Sands. Don'tcha think they came out real pretty?

Jamil

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. It isn't much, but here's your present. Ramshackle is a fairly old building. I'm sure there are bugs that will find their way in and try to settle down here. However, if you use this, you can rid yourself of all of them in an instant. I can vouch for its effectiveness. Use it as soon as you can.

POMEFIORE

Vil

Happy Birthday, [Yuu]. ...You wish for me to come to your party here, at Ramshackle? And to top it all off, you've prepared a healthy menu just for me... Heh, how considerate of you. Very well. I suppose I can make an appearance out of respect for your enthusiasm. I do hope you're honored that I'll be there to celebrate with you.

Epel

Happy Birthday! I put in a lot of thought picking out a present for you. Here ya go, fingerless gloves! Nice design, right? Makes using your phone a lot easier, too. It'll make you look super cool, and the more you use it, the more comfy it'll feel. I hope you use it tons!

Rook

I've been waiting, Trickster. Waiting, that is, to celebrate your birthday with you. A spectacular day requires a spectacular memory. That is why I've come up with a wonderful plan of my own. First, we watch two back-to-back theater performances, then attend a poetry reading, and finally, watch a movie in the evening. There will be no time to rest. Come, we must quickly fly towards the theater!

IGNIHYDE

Idia

Kk, time to pretend we all get along and celebrate a birthday again... Eep!? D-Did you hear that just now...? Uh, so... Happy B-day, I guess... Soz, I don't have a present for you. Didn't even know it was your birthday... What, you're seriously just happy hearing me wish you a happy b-day? [siiigh] Nah, I'll order something small online and have it shipped to Ramshackle sometime later.

Ortho

Happy Birthday! Here's your present. Go ahead and open it! Hehe, you see what I did? I used a laser to engrave a birthday message on a glass tumbler for you. It was a little difficult fine tuning the power adjustment for the more detailed parts, but it came out pretty good, don't you think? I really hope you like it!

DIASOMNIA

Malleus

Child of Man, I see today is your birthday. ...Hm? What's the matter? You look a tad glum. Ah, I see, you are struggling to carry all your presents. Well, allow me to deliver them to Ramshackle with magic in your stead. No need to protest, this is an effortless task for someone like me. You should enjoy your special day to the utmost.

Silver

Happy Birthday. You're curious about this braided cord? It is your present. Lilia-senpai explained it to me thusly... If a string wrapped around your wrist or ankle snaps off on its own, then your wish will be granted. I strung this cord together in hopes that you may have your wishes come true. It may be a tad ill-shaped, but if it pleases you, it is yours.

Sebek

As I recall, today is your birthday... Hm? You want me to come to your birthday party? What poor semblance of a joke. I don't have the spare time to waltz into some human gathering like... WHAT!? MY LIEGE HIMSELF WILL ALSO BE THERE!? THEN SAY THAT FIRST! For goodness' sake, humans like you are just... so thoroughly thoughtless. Hurry and provide me the location and commencement time!

Lilia

Ooh, nice. So today's your birthday. Just look at how big you're getting. ...Khee hee hee. Don't look so downtrodden. It's just me pretending to be a doting gramps. The other guys in my dorm don't ever let me joke with them like that. And so, I have a present for you. Here, a CD of my performances, specially made! Take this and enjoy my raging screamo music with your whole heart and body.

OTHERS

Crowley and Rollo do not have new lines. Theirs are repeated from last year's.

Grim

Today's your birthday, huh. Happy Birthday to you! ...Huh? Do I got a gift for ya? What're ya even saying? Shouldn't ya be happy enough that you're my number one favorite henchie? Fiiine. Guess I can use my paws to pad you a massage sometime. Wouldn't want to hafta sit in a hard and uncomfy lap, after all!

Crowley

Ta-daaa! What do you suppose this could be? That’s correct, it’s an exchange coupon for use at the Mystery Shop! You have been a consistent helping hand, so… This is a special gift for you. Happy Birthday. Incidentally, that is only worth 500 madol (5 Thaumarks). It cannot be exchanged for something pricier than that. Please don’t hold it against me.

Crewel

It seemed rather rowdy in here, but now I see it was just you, pup. Are you excited simply because its your birthday? I see, well, in that case, I have a special present just for you. As for what it is... It is a special alchemy homework assignment. You should be happy; you'll be able to improve your skills even further with this, don't you think? Haha, Happy Birthday.

Trein

I hear it is your birthday today. Do continue to put forth your best effort in your studies as a student of academia. Allow me to gift you with some words of wisdom instead of a present, as someone who has been on this mortal coil slightly longer than yourself. Merely aging another year does not a mature person make. However, time spent on fruitful endeavors will always be of benefit to your growth.

Rollo

Whatever is the matter, [Yuu]-kun? There is a strange glimmer in your eyes… ...Ah, I see. Today is your birthday. A present? Hmph. I hardly think that it should be something you request of others… But no matter. Indeed, birthdays should be treasured. However, what would be an acceptable gift…? I am afraid I’m rather unaccustomed to this. I would hope I do not disappoint you with a poor gift choice.

Fellow

Oh, my, hello there, my learned scholar! I've been searching, and finally, I've found you! I was fervently hoping to wish you well for your birthday. Here, your present. ...As fellows lacking in magical abilities, we should get along together, don'tcha think? Happy Birthday! Fwahaha!

Requested by Anonymous.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fifteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.5K (I got carried away again)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Crying,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Present Day *Reader POV*

The shopping bags that hung from your arms would have been heavy for the average person, but for you it seemed like a bag full of pillows. It was the day after you saw Rosemary and said goodbye. Despite the almost excruciating hangover you had this morning, because it'd been almost forty years since you last had a drink, you dragged yourself to the mall to try and find outfits for your trip to Russia. You were satisfied with the few outfits you found, but you were worried because the plane left in a few hours and you were no where near ready.

Mentally or physically.

As much as you wanted to go help Ben, you still were apprehensive about the whole situation, not just about going in blind, but wondering what the hell you were going to do when you saw Ben. You wanted to hold on to your anger, but you were afraid that the moment you looked into his green eyes you would forgive him.

I am not going to forgive him. I'm going to break him out then tell him to fuck off and I never have to see him ever again.

Despite your apprehension, you knew that you had to do this, that you had to go help him even if you still hated him because you couldn't bear the thought of the boy you grew up with being tortured over there all alone. It was the alone part that hurt the most. You knew how much Ben hated being alone. He never had to say it out loud, but all the time you'd spent together in your bedroom before and after the injection spoke volumes.

Of course you still had no idea where you were going, but figured that if you went to the Kremlin you could get some answers, which meant you'd either have to lie your way in or just kill anyone in your path. Which would be messy, but necessary. You try to shake off the guilt of exposing yourself again and what that could mean for Rosemary and Lou. You made sure that Rosemary knew to pack a bag for herself and for Lou and told her to wait for your call.

You wanted to be there to escort them out of the city, didn't want to split up and have them get snagged while you were waiting for them at the rendezvous point, so you told Rosemary to take a few days off and lay low.

When you get to the outside door of your apartment building toting the bags, you notice that it's been broken, as if someone tried to pull it off its hinges.

Well that's great. Hopefully the building manager noticed that.

Your mind drifts back to Ben as you step into the elevator.

What if he isn't alive when I get there? It was an unwelcome thought, but it meant that you wouldn't have to talk to him.

 Maybe if I knock him out when I get there and just leave him in a Russian motel somewhere, I won't have to talk to him. You pause. Will he want to talk to me? 

The memory of the last time you spoke flashes through your mind bringing an unmeasurable amount of rage and heartbreak back over your body. The dam you built to keep out everything that happened was reaching capacity, especially given the recent events with Countess, and you knew that the moment you saw Ben it was going to burst open. You hoped that you'd be able to keep it together long enough to get out of the lab or wherever the hell he was being held, before you lost it. But it was doubtful.

As you walk down the hallway to you apartment, you notice that your front door is open and you stop walking. Apprehension spikes at the back of your mind as you examine the door. The lock is broken and  door is cracked just enough for you to hear people talking inside in hushed tones. You creep forward and look through the crack.

You've got to be kidding me. You groan to yourself noticing Butcher and Hughie standing in your living room.

Great. Just what I need. Right when I'm going to leave they show up. Guess that explains the mystery of the broken door downstairs.

You think about walking away, of going back down the elevator and hoping that by the time you come back they would be gone, but you knew you had to face them and you still had to pack. So you push open the front door of your apartment and step into the room.

"You know when I called saying that I had something else to say about Soldier Boy, I assumed you would call, not break into my apartment." You sigh before moving to the right side of the counter that divides the room between the living room and the kitchen and depositing the shopping bags on the stainless steel top.

"Maybe you shouldn’t leave your apartment unlocked poppet. Anyone could walk in." Butcher replies with a grin.

"Hmm. Sure. You guys here for more coffee?"

"Go shopping did you?" Butcher ignores your snark eyeing the bags.

"Yeah I needed a few new outfits for my art show next month." The lie is easy, but you know that the sudden appearance of the two of them probably meant you were caught red handed. Of course now with everything that happened with Countess, you didn't care anymore if Butcher and Hughie knew who you really were. "You doing okay there Hughie?" You raise an eyebrow as you notice how his heartbeat has spiked since you entered the apartment.

"Good." He says, but he looks uneasy.

Well, guess he's afraid of me now.

"Huh. And here I thought you were replacing your jacket." Butcher throws your ruined jacket onto the floor between you.

You look from the jacket to Butcher. You hadn't bought a replacement and hadn't wanted to throw it out. You were still hoping that the scorch marks looked like you had "distressed" it. It didn't and you knew that, but you loved that coat so much.

"See, I think it’s a big coincidence that Countess got right fucked after we came and talked to you." Butcher smiles.

"Probably the same coincidence as Gunpowder dying before you showed up here the first time." You breeze with a tight-lipped smile.

Where was he going with this? Was he here to kill me? You think about what Legend said about Butcher killing supes.

"That looks bad." Butcher gestures to the jacket. "You have a little spat with your good friend?”

"Let's just say she said a few things that upset me." Your eyes skate from Butcher to Hughie sizing them up. "If you're here to kill me, you're welcome to try. Oh sorry,  'arrest me'." You make air quotes around the words. "But we both know you're not government agents, you reek of Compound V and the last time I checked there was that whole, no supes in the government thing."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get this out of the way the first time?" Hughie asks.

"I didn't want to be involved." You shrug your shoulders.

"Then why you'd buy a plane ticket to Russia?" Butcher takes a step towards you, but you hold your ground.

You weren't afraid of him.

"I hear it's nice this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Very pleasant." You snap back at him eyes narrowed, before you look down at the antique watch on your wrist. "Look I'd love to have a heart to heart, but I just don't have time to do this little dance with you. So we can either get to the part where you try to kill me or-" You raise your gaze from the watch to glare back at Butcher, but then your eyes focus on the hallway behind him and your heart stops.

Ben is standing there in the shadows looking at you the same way he always has, with those wonderful piercing green eyes that makes all other memories of them be put to shame. He's dressed in modern clothes, wearing a dark green shirt that hugs his perfect muscular chest and is the same color of his suit, your favorite color and the one you can never look at without thinking of him because damn it, it's also the color of his eyes. He looks the same, but different. His hair is longer and darker than it was the last time you saw him and his cheeks are covered by a trimmed but thick beard. It was unusual given that you'd never seen him with more than just a little bit of stubble and annoying because it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, but despite the piercing way his eyes follow you, you can see a haunting memory of the last forty years.

You're upset that the one of the first thoughts you'd had beside staring at him open mouthed is that you wished you were wearing something more flattering than one of your pairs of paint splattered overalls over an old band t-shirt. You were going to Russia to get him and yes maybe you were shopping for things that you could move in, but you had picked out a particular revenge outfit that you believed would make Ben regret everything he did to you and also might have been paired with a particularly badass set of boots that made your legs look very long. The outfit that made you feel beautiful and sexy was unlike the one you were wearing at the moment. Also because you hadn't brushed your hair today and had just stuck it up in a messy bun at the back of your head.

You're struck with the urge to run to him and kill him at the same time, but you can't move and you can’t think.

Apart of you believed that you would find him dead in Russia, a sad thought but it meant that you wouldn't have to relive everything all over again. Everything that went to shit the last 24 hours you spent together that you relived with Countess the other day and now you were reliving when you looked at him standing there looking better than he should.

Because damn it, only Ben could be tortured in a lab for the past 40 years and walk away looking like a GQ model. I've never hated anyone more.

"Ben?" Your voice is no more than a hoarse whisper.

Ben pushes past Hughie and Butcher, taking careful steps towards you like he doesn't want to scare you away. "Y/n." The sound of your name on his lips fills you with an inescapable amount of warmth.

Traitor. You think to yourself at your body’s reaction.

He's standing so close to you now that you can smell the same shampoo and aftershave he always used and it brings back memories of the nights he spent in your bed with you laughing and talking like nothing had changed making you feel alive again for the first time in forty years. Before everything went into the blender set to puree.

Ben's eyes trace your body like he can't believe you're standing in front of him making you wish again that you're wearing the outfit you picked out so that you could look as good as he does. And just as he raises his hand towards your face you remember why you hated him, remember that night, remember what Countess said that caused her to lose her head.

Your hand flashes out so quick you don't think Ben notices it until it lands with a resounding slap against his cheek that sends him reeling back from you. Your strengths were similar, almost identical, and if he hadn't been invulnerable it would have ripped his perfect jaw from his face.

"What the fuck was that for?" Ben snaps, green eyes blazing as he looks back at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here after all these years." You spit, the anger rising in your chest with wings of fury that beat against your ribcage. "Did you really think that you could just say my name again and make me forget everything that happened Benjamin? I am not one of those trashy women that you used to fuck and the fact that you think you can show up here, give me the fucking puppy dog eyes, and think that I’ll swoon, is ridiculous!”

There goes the dam.

Your gaze levels on Hughie and Butcher who look just as stunned. "And you two. Why did you bring him here? I didn’t want any part of this!”

"Why did you pretend to be dead!" Hughie shouts back.

"Did you think that maybe that was me trying to tell you that I didn't want to be involved? Or are you two just that fucking stupid?"

"Why did you buy a plane ticket then?" Butcher asks again, raising an eyebrow.

Ben is watching you with anger burning in his eyes. It's difficult for you to look at him. Every time you do you think about your last night together, the morning after when he pushed you away, and finally the night where he ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.

How did I ever think I could look at him again when I got him out of Russia?

"Because even though I hate him. He doesn't deserve that. The Ben I knew would have come to get me, and I wasn't going to leave him to rot in some fucking Russian prison." You snap back. "Now get out of my apartment."

"Sweetheart-" Ben begins to say.

"No. No. No. I don't want to hear it from you. Nothing you can say can make this better. I’m glad you’re free or whatever, but go. Get out." You push past him, but Ben's hand flashes out and grabs your wrist with enough force that you feel the bruising of your skin.

"No." He towers over you.

"Let. Me. Go." Your eyes narrow shifting to bright purple. The entire room begins to tremble, the glass windows shake in their panes and the glass jars full of paint brushes on your studio table begin to clink against one another. But he doesn't remove his hand.

"Not until you listen." Ben's own green eyes have hardened into a emerald.

You latch onto the wrist that is holding you and break his grip, before spinning and throwing him backward across the room away from you. Ben's body flies past Hughie and Butcher who watch with wide eyes as he hits the back of the couch and pinwheels over it with a loud thud as he lands on the cushions. You would have rather thrown him into the brick living room wall, but you restrained yourself.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Benjamin. You said enough that night and apparently you were saying lots of things to Countess about me. So get out." Your eyes skate across Butcher and Hughie. "All of you."

Hughie is still watching you with wide eyes, like he can't believe that just happened.

Join the club kid.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben shouts, standing from the couch and straightening his clothes. You don't need to be a psychic to know how angry he is. In fact, you're surprised he's not throwing you out the window or at least throwing a punch. Ben didn't tolerate it when anyone put him in his place and it definitely looks like it's taking him an extreme amount of effort not to attack you, given the way his hands are clenched into fists and the way his jaw is tensed so tightly you can see the muscle flexing.

"She told me what you said about me. That you threw me a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me, that you were bored when we had sex because I was so inexperienced."

"It's not true."

"Isn’t it?" You're trying desperately not to cry, but the angry tears have already begun to well up in your eyes. "The last thing you sad to me was that I was pathetic and that you never would love me, never could love me. That you fucked me because you felt bad for me and you wished I would just fuck off. That I was just another warm pussy and that I meant nothing to you. So forgive me for not believing you."

"Oh shit." Butcher mutters under his breath.

"Damn." Hughie echoes.

"I know what I said to you, Y/n. I've spent the past 40 years regretting it-" Ben begins to say, but you interrupt him.

"Oh I'm so sure. The Great Soldier Boy actually has a conscience, let me just alert the media." You spit back. "Oh wait, sorry you wouldn't want that getting out would you Ben? Because that would mean you aren't a man."

"Y/n-" He growls.

"You don't get to come in here and apologize and act like you did nothing wrong. You're not here because you feel sorry, you're here because you want me to dote on you, to follow you around and give a shit like I did for 40 fucking years.”

“Y/n-“

"Stop saying my name like that!" You shout and the glass sugar dish on the counter flies off the counter and smashes into the floor sending shards of glass everywhere.

Hughie flinches.

"Like what?" Ben exclaims.

"Like you care." You cross your arms over your chest staring him down because you don't want to keep crying.

"I do fucking care about you-" Ben snaps running his hand through his dark hair frustrated.

"No you don't. You never did. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

"Yes I do."

"Please stop talking."

"What else do you want me to say?" Ben shouts back, moving towards you. "I'm trying to fucking apologize-"

"I don't want you to say anything and I don't want to hear your half-assed apology! I want you to leave. You and your creepy friends." You gesture back to where Hughie and Butcher are watching with open mouths, who are unsure if they should leave or watch the show.

"They're not my friends."

"And neither am I! Which means I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say!”

"Y/n please-" His teeth are gritted together.

“I'm not some fangirl Ben. I was your friend, your friend before any of this. Before any of this fucking supe shit. I cared about you. I had been in love with you since I was 8. I had taken care of you since the night we met." More tears squeeze down your cheeks as a lifetime of happy memories before everything went down the drain wash over you. The wonderful times you'd shared together at the park, in your bedroom back in Philadelphia, dancing in the dancehall,  at baseball games and Ben walking you home all the while you wobbled down the street drunkenly and sang off key. All the blissful little moments that you thought maybe he felt the same way about you and then followed by the moments you spent together the night of your birthday, when you felt more special and loved than you'd ever had. It makes the knife he stuck in your back even sharper. 

"That night we spent together meant everything to me. I thought it was special and I thought you loved me. But you don't. You just fucked me because you were bored and you found the first person who said yes.” Your body turns away, but he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him.

"I do love you damnit!" He shouts. "I didn't want to-" Ben's jaw clenches in frustration, looking back at Butcher and Hughie. "Can you two just fuck off?"

"I wish you all would." You say, trying to loosen his grip on your shoulders, but he doesn't let go. You think about throwing him across the room again, because it made you feel a lot better.

"Fine. We'll be outside." Butcher says tugging Hughie away.

"Are you sure?" Hughie asks looking from you to Ben as if he's worried to leave the two of you alone.

"You want to be here? Because they're either going to kill each other or start fucking." Butcher responds.

"We are not going to start-" You begin, but they're already out the front door of your apartment leaving you alone with Ben, who is still holding on to your shoulders.

"Please listen to me." Ben says looking deep into your eyes. "When you said that you loved me it-" He stops looking for the right word as if he can't say the next ones that come out of his mouth. "Oh fuck it, it fucking scared me. Okay?  It scared me, Y/n, and damnit I'm not a pussy! I'm not afraid of anything!"

“Oh no you could never be a pussy could you? Soldier Boy could never admit that he had real feelings for someone.” Your voice wobbles, tears trailing down your cheeks as you poke him in the chest to emphasize every word. “And now you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you want to have another quick fuck!” You push your hands against his chest trying to push him off of you, but he won't let go. "You're just saying it because its been forty years since you had sex and you thought, huh might as well find the most pathetic person I know, Y/n won't say no if I pretend to be everything she wanted again."

He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me.

"I’m not lying to you! And I’m not pretending! I wasn't pretending that night either!” Ben roars so loudly you flinch. “That night I felt things with you that I had never felt with anyone else. It wasn't cheap sex or a quick fuck-" His jaw tightens as if he's embarrassed to admit it. "Damn it.” His teeth are gritted together. “We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I’m ready now, I’m not scared anymore. I love you!”

He's saying everything you always wanted him to, but you're scared. Scared that he's just saying it, that he thinks it's what you want to hear and this is the only way that he can get you back into his life because he needs someone to follow him around, because he can't be alone.

You stand there for a minute taking in his stance. His head is slightly bowed in shame, shoulders tight, body leaning towards you. But then you catch his eye, you see the sorrow, frustration, and pain in his gaze. Ben was not big on sharing feelings and for him to admit all of these things aloud was shocking enough without the obvious emotions flashing in his eyes. It was so different than the stoic or pissed off attitude he usually had when he was Soldier Boy. The look in his eyes is so earnest and Ben has never been a good liar, not to you anyway. You always knew what he was thinking.

If I forgive him then what does that mean? I forget the past 40 years like they never happened? I forget all the tears when he broke my heart? Forget how broken I was? How broken I still am?

You think of all the times you missed him, all the times you forgot about what he said to you and remembered the good, all the times you wanted him there with you and Rosemary because you knew he would love to be there. All the early memories together, all the missions, everything that lead up to the falling out and Ben’s supposed death. Ben's admission of guilt and his confession of love for you was shocking. Especially because the Ben you knew 40 years ago would have rather dropped dead than say the words "make love."

No. I won't give in. I can't do this, I can't do this all over again. I was better, I was moving on, he doesn't have the right to come here and mess up my life all over again.

"No." You shout, shoving him away with all your strength. Ben stumbles backward, his eyes wide as if he wasn't expecting you to push him away, because of course he wasn't. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear, what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

He still doesn't understand how much he hurt me. And he doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true. Please y/n-“

"I don't believe you. And when I said I never wanted to see you ever again I wasn't lying. So get out Ben!" You shout.

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving." Ben says back determined.

You weren't prepared for what those words did to you. You weren't prepared for the floodgate of emotions that exploded the moment those words passed through his lips or the way it felt like you were being tugged in two different directions. Because despite wanting to throw him across the room again, those three little words made you want to run into his arms and hold him close, made you want him to take you to bed and make you forget all the shitty things that happened forty years ago, make it like he never left.

But you couldn't do it. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you couldn't because you didn't trust him anymore, you didn't trust that he could give you what you wanted.

“Too bad! I won’t do this to myself again. All I did was care about you, help you. I stood by you and made excuses for the person you became and I held on to this picture of the boy you used to be. The one I fell in love with. The one that used to climb in my window when things were hard. The one that took me to my first baseball game. The one who danced with me. The one that made me feel like less of a freak because he understood me. And the one that begged me to leave Howard and everything I knew and come with him. That night we were together I saw that boy again.  I loved that boy. I would have done anything for him and I did. But he’s not here anymore. And I hate myself for holding on to him as long as I did.”

"But I told you I loved you!" Ben exclaims.

“Just saying that isn’t enough, not after everything that happened!” You shout. "You're forty years too late Benjamin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to bed. And I don’t want you to be here when I wake up.”

"Y/n please-" You hate how he sounds when he says it, like he's broken, because Ben has never once sounded that way in all the years you'd known him. You hate how he looks. How his dark hair is falling forward into his face and he looks so much like the boy you used to love that it makes you want to scream, because you wanted to believe that he was gone, but all you see when you look up at him is that boy. There is not one shred of Soldier Boy in the way he looks right now and you hate that. You hate that you wanted to forgive him, that all it took was him looking like at you like that. But you still can't do it.

"Just go." Your throat thickening as you say it, fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. "I don't want you here. I never want you to come here ever. I never want to see you again.” You lie pushing past him and walk down the dark hallway, slamming and locking your bedroom door behind you. Your body sinks to the floor as you pull your knees up into your chest, sobs shaking your body and tears pour from your eyes.

How many tears can I spend on one man? How do I still have any left after all these years? How could I have been stupid to think that I was over him? That I could just go to Russia, break him out, and then push him out of my life so easily? None of what just happened was easy.

Your face presses into your knees. You want to call Rosemary, call her and tell her what happened, but your phone is still on the counter and you couldn't go back out there, because you knew he was still there. Standing in your living room looking too perfect after all these years and saying all the things you always wanted him to and you don’t want to go out there and forgive him.

So you stay. Your back pressed against the door, crying into your knees and hoping that this will just all end.

Because it’s got to one day right?

*Soldier Boy POV*

He hadn't meant to reach for you, but all he wanted was to feel the gentle swell of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, the smoothness of your skin against his rough fingertips, and to memorize the planes of your face with his touch. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your curves perfectly accentuated by a pair of cute paint splattered overalls that made him smile, and your hair pulled away from your face in a messy bun but still made you look effortless and striking. When he saw you standing there, it was like taking a punch to the gut. He knew that he missed you, but seeing you there warm and alive made him want to crush you against his chest and never let you go ever again.

He had laid himself bare before you, allowing himself to push through the urge  to shove all his emotions back beneath the surface as his father taught him, and spoke, instead, the words he wished that he had said all those years ago.

Ben's shoulders tense when he thinks of what you shouted back at him, how broken you looked. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he remembers the tears in your eyes. Ben hated it when you cried. He also hated that the first time he saw you in forty years he made you cry, again.

He didn't know how to fix this. Ben thought that his apology would be enough to make you at least try to forgive him, but it hadn't. You had shoved him away from you, refused to let him touch you or comfort you-

Why is she so damn stubborn? I apologized! I told her that I loved her! Isn’t that what she wanted?

He grits his teeth together thinking about how you threw him across the room like he weighed nothing. If anyone else had done that to him, Ben would have killed them, but he knew that he deserved it. He knew you would be mad, but he thought that you would at least want to hear everything he had to say instead of cursing him out and slamming the door in his face.

When you slammed your door behind you, he had stood outside of it for an hour listening to you cry, heard your soft muffled sobs. At one point he leaned his head against the door and wished you would let him in so he could hold you while you cried, even though the thought made him feel like a pussy. He wanted to comfort you. He wished you had forgiven him, allowed him to take you to bed, allowed him to show you how sorry he was and how much he loved you. He wished that you let him help you forget the last shitty forty years that you spent without him, forget what he said and what he did to you that night. 

The harsh words you yelled at him make him flinch, when you told him that you didn't want him there and never wanted him to come back. They were the words that he always feared you would say to him when he climbed in through your window at night or when he showed up at your apartment when you were still on Payback. And hearing you say those words felt worse than anything those Russian fucks did to him. Because Ben didn't know where he belonged if he wasn't with you, he didn't know what to do if you weren't in his life, you were the only thing that mattered.

How could I fuck this up this much?

Ben looks back at the clock on the wall in the kitchen which shows he'd been there for three hours waiting for you to come out of your room, but you hadn't. He knew it was because you fell asleep, he could hear your heart beat, your soft breath against the pillows, and the almost silent sounds you made when you slept. They were exactly the same as when he would fall asleep next to you and damn it he didn't realize how much he missed them until this exact moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How do I fucking fix this?

Ben stands from the couch and walks down the hallway for the millionth time to stand outside your door preparing to knock, but he didn't know what to say. He thought that he'd said enough, but judging by your reaction he hadn't.

The thought of saying anything else was difficult for him to swallow. It was hard enough to say what he had to you, but he was realizing he was going to have to delve even deeper to make you even look at him again or want to be around him. 

Finally he goes to the front door of your apartment before he looks back down the hallway. He didn't want to leave, didn't want you to wake up and him not be there despite what you said about wanting him to leave. He wanted you to understand that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was never going to leave you ever again no matter how hard you tried to push him away. But he needed to leave now, not for long, just long enough for him to get what he needed.

He had seen the florist shop on the corner when Butcher drove up. As Ben walked down the street in the direction of the florist he remembered the conversation he had with Butcher after you slammed your door in his face. Convincing Butcher to let him remain in the apartment was difficult, but finally when Ben threatened to rip Hughie in half, Butcher relented stating that he would give Ben one night with you before he came back. That was the deal anyway, Ben had lied, because like hell he was going to leave now that he'd found you again.

Ben wasn't planning on leaving and  even if you couldn't stand to look at him, Ben would not go. Even if it meant sleeping on that shitty couch every night.

He would never leave you again.

The smell of the flowers wafted out of the small shop when Ben opens the door, his eyes skating across the numerous bouquets, each one more extravagant than the last. Other women would swoon over them, but not you. His eyes fall first on roses, but he turns away. He knew that you didn’t like roses, although many believed them to be classic, Ben knew that you thought over the years that roses had become generic and overused. He of course had sent some to numerous women over the years, but he liked that you were different. He always liked that about you. He rolls his eyes when he remembered when Howard bought you some every week.

Because of course that asshole didn’t know what y/n liked. No one knows her as well as me.

The man behind the counter eyes him when he walks in. "Can I help you find something sir?"

"No." Ben says gruffy looking at the displays again, but then he sighs. "Do you have any lavender?"

"Lavender?"

"Yeah." Ben knew it was the only thing that you would accept, knew that it was your favorite because it reminded you of the house your family rented over the summers up North. Ben hated those summers. He'd break into your bedroom and sleep in your bed while thinking of you and reading the letters you sent him over and over again, the ones that you pressed fresh lavender into and the ones that made him realize just how much he needed you.

Those of course weren’t the only letters you ever sent him. When he went to boarding school he’d wait for you to send him a letter and one of your doodles or a small painting. He kept every one in a cigar box under his bed. It was why he was kicked out of boarding school number nine, a fight he had with another student began because the student had found the box and then proceeded to mock Ben endlessly by passing around the letters you sent him. Ben had never told you what the fight was about.

Ben stops as he realizes how he’s going to get you to listen to him.

“Here you are sir.” The florist reappears at the counter holding a large vase of freshly cut lavender.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Ben asks.

“Sure.”

The object the man hands him is not a phone, well not a phone that Ben’s ever seen before.

“I said a phone-“

“That is a phone?” The man looks confused.

“How do I fucking call someone with this?” Ben sighs shaking the black rectangle in his hand and looking for the buttons.

The man takes the object and swipes his fingers across it before handing it back to him so Ben can see the numbers to dial. “Just push what you want and hit the green button.” The man says, looking at Ben like he's crazy.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mutters, before dialing the number and holding the phone up to his ear.

Legend answers on the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. Do you still have all my old shit from my apartment?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

N/A: Why not end on a cliffhanger? This chapter is a bit longer, because this week is CRAZY for me and I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter. But I'm not giving up on these two. They deserve the world.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts

@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress

@my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna

@abramswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit

[adeepdeepslumber]

"do you remember the time?" - itoshi rin

remember the time - michael jackson

you were a blur in his memories. he remembered the traces, the faint shape of your familiar face, but your features were blurred, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember how you looked like, the face he once adored with all his heart.

lights flashed in his eyes, blinding, but recently, one thing had been on rin's mind. he had a lingering feel in his heart, one he couldn't pinpoint the source of. soccer was his number one priority, when he was younger he abandoned the others. recently, he had a guilty feeling he'd abandoned something far more important than a mere numbered priority.

"itoshi rin! have you ever loved someone before?" a voice behind the bright flashing lights of the countless cameras surrounding him questioned. his first love? rin's mind wandered, his eyes misty, trying to find the reason why his heart was overcome with a strange feeling, a mix of guilt, regret, and -.. hope?

still drenched with sweat from the soccer match, his wispy bangs covered his face as he looked down. why was this so familiar? this was especially weird, he'd forgot almost all of his childhood since making soccer his dream, his comfort. something clicked in him, he remembers.

-maybe if he didn't, he would have avoided it-

rin never answered the question. ignoring the reporter, he sent a cold and unwelcoming gaze to all that were in front of him, trying to take pictures, trying to get him to answer them. "maybe if you all weren't so desperate, you'd actually get ahead in life." rin bluntly stated, classic of him to rudely dismiss others.

a trip back to kamakura, his hometown, could do him some good. he'd gotten a break since his recent match, but all that occupied his mind was the itching feeling that what he was looking for was here.

the atmosphere was cold, white mist floated into the air when rin breathed out. the swing he sat on was old and rusted, it creaked whenever he swung his legs in the slightest. but he was here, waiting, for someone.

for you.

and there he saw it, his heart swelled at the sight of you, a scarf covering your chin, carrying a guitar case on you back, with a plastic bag full of snacks in one hand. your hair moved with the wind that blew past, and small exhales that you made produced white mist. internally, his arm reached out to you, trying to grab you and communicate with you.

rin muttered your name, unaware of it's volume. your head turned to the familiar but faint sound of your name being uttered. one glance of his wispy bangs that covered his eyes, one that you used to complain about since you could barely see his eyes, the eyes that used to look at you with so much warmth and comfort, once looked at you to with a sharp, disregarding touch. one that made you feel worthless. this time, his teal eyes were full of hope and desire, your breath hitched seeing that.

"rin?.." your mouth was parted, and your hair blew in your face due to the wind. that didn't matter right now. what did, was that he was here. how could he just show up here, after he told you that you were nothing to him, that he only led you on as he "didn't want you to realize early" that the spark between you two was long gone.

you two were presently at the ripe age of 21, but when you were in your teenage years, you loved each other. but one day, rin told you the words that haunted you till now.

"i really did love you, but eventually you grew to mean nothing to me."

he told you that he wanted to focus on soccer, that you were dragging him down and slowing him. he told you that he really did love you, he told you that you were a dead weight on him. and then he acted like you never existed. after that, he just left this town behind, left you and his ties with you behind. so why is he here now, asking to talk again?

"rin, why are you here?" your tone became more serious, as the anger towards him that grew over time, started spilling out. you'd see him on television, he made a name for himself, you hated him. you hated what he did to you, and how he threw away everything so easily. but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away from him. you'd thought that it was just a teenage relationship failure, that you could get over it. but it clung to you, haunted you.

rin bit his bottom lip, nails digging deep into his palm. "i..i.." stuttering out of anxiousness, he knew you hated him for what he'd done, and he hated how he got rid of any memory, any remnants of the love you and him once shared, just to focus on soccer. he'd hated how he completely forgot about you. and he knew you did too.

"someone asked me if i'd ever fallen in love before," rin gripped the rusty chains of the swing tightly before letting go and walking towards you. "i thought of you."

soon, he was in front of you, towering over you. frustration built up inside you, but you couldn't resist the look of his eyes, one that pleaded to just listen to him.

"you threw away everything we had, you completely forgot about me. how can you just simply say that you thought of me when you did all that?" the frustration slipped through your voice, revealing itself. you don't know why, you said you were over it, that it would never hurt you again, but tears spilled from your eyes. it fell down your cheeks, as the rims of you eye slowly became redder.

you were on the verge of breaking down completely, crumbling into the shards of your raw emotions. rin could see this, and guilt overtook his heart. your voice shook and quivered, but still, you stood strong, desperate for rin to understand what he put you through, the countless nights of crying in your room, curled up like a ball on the floor, wondering what you ever did so wrong that he had to leave you.

his bottom lip quivered, and he wanted to deny everything, but he knows he can't. "you said you really did love me. then why did you just leave?" your eyes filled with rage, stared at him, asking for a reason.

"i did. i did love you. but i loved soccer more then."

this earned you a scoff. "doesn't give you an excuse to just forget everything, to just throw everything away." poking a finger at his chest, you glared up at him. "rin, i'm done. you left me first, but you came back first. it's my turn to leave you now." with an extra sharpness in your tone, you turned to leave, but rin held your wrist.

"please, please, really just, listen to me."

maybe you shouldn't have, then you would have avoided it.

you stayed.

"i know i hurt you, i know it was uncalled for, and just horrible of me. i threw away everything i ever had for soccer, including you. but i didn't know you were more important to me than 'just a distraction'. i thought about you from time to time, but eventually forgot about you, i was too focused on soccer, on beating my rivals."

rin's eyes stared at you with longing, hoping you would understand what he was trying to tell, that you would hear him out. no matter how hard you tried to resist against the mental restraints on you to leave and never turn back, you couldn't deny.. you missed him.

"i'm sorry. please, give me another chance. i promise, i'll treat you better then i did before, you'll never be a 'distraction' anymore, i'll never throw what we have away."rin's eyes bore into yours with determination, the eyelashes you used to get jealous of complimented it even more.

eyes really were the window to the soul, huh?

"i didn't want to say this, but," rin's ears and cheek turned a faint pink, blush tinged his ears, covering his face with his hand. "i love you. i really do, i miss you."

i missed you too.

you muttered the words so lightly, but rin still caught it. his eyes seemed to have gained a spark, and he looked at you with so much hope in his eyes.

"can we try again?"

rin gripped your wrist tighter, anxious for your reply.

"do you remember the time when we fell in love?"

rin nodded, the slightest smile making its way to his face. "i loved you with all my heart. i've only noticed now, but i still do." your hair framed your face perfectly, and rin couldn't keep his eyes off you. you were gorgeous. "so, you haven't answered my question."

"promise you won't repeat it again."

"i promise."

you reciprocated his action of gripping onto your wrist, only now gripping his hand tighter than ever. rin's hands made way to your face, his face leaning in closer to yours, till your noses touched. he let out a smile, the sweetest one you'd ever seen in you entire life. both of you chuckled, and your lips made contact. he smiled into the kiss, and held you face so gently, but with the intention of never letting you go. your arms wrapped around his neck, ruffling his hair as you two shared a kiss filled with hope, and a promise sealed with it. you two loved each other, if you'd never confessed the love for him that was hidden deep in your heart under all the hatred you had, maybe you wouldn't be drawn back to him.

maybe this could work out again.

remember the time - michael jackson

[bunnliix]

Little Trinkets

This came to be cause the wonderful @potatomountain and I were sharing Matz pics and then got into cute things you'd do while dating Matz and now here I am writing this very fluffy fic <3 And this fic is for the lovely Doom, so I hope you like it Doooom! <3 <3

Pairing: Matz x reader Summary: You're waiting at home for your boyfriends to return, while admiring the little trinkets that they've brought home for you wc: 972 Genre: Fluff Warnings: just pure fluff and cuteness, reader getting startled like once, food, kissing Beta'd by the wonderful @bethelighthalazia <3

You were waiting at home for your two boyfriends to come back from work. They promised they’d be home earlier today, given that you had been having a hard week, and needed them home more often. But no matter how much you said you’d be fine, though you knew you wanted them home earlier too, they said they’d be home before dark, and with dinner for the three of you.

You moved from the bed you all shared, heading out to the couch to watch the front door like a hawk, wanting to see them the minute they arrived back at your apartment. They shouldn’t be much longer, and you were excited for them to come home, as you had baked some sweets for them to have after their long day pre-recording at a music show for their current comeback.

As you waited, you looked around the room, finding little trinkets the three of you had gotten for each other at some point or another and smiling at the memories attached to each of them. There was a little model of the Golden Gate bridge from the last time they visited San Francisco, a tiny pair of wooden clogs from when they performed in Amsterdam, so many little things that they’ve brought home for themselves and you.

You were so distracted by your memories, that you didn’t hear the door opening, nor the murmurs of your boyfriends as they took their shoes off.

“Darling, we’re home,” Seonghwa called out as the two idols entered the living room to find you distracted.

Seeing as you hadn’t heard them, you continued going down memory lane, until you were interrupted by arms wrapping around your shoulders. Flinching slightly as you’re knocked back into reality, you looked up to see that it was Hongjoong whose arms were around you.

“Hi Joongie,” you greeted him, smiling up at him.

“Hi baby, did you get a bit distracted?” He asked.

“I was looking at everything you’ve brought home from the various places you’ve both visited, and all of our gifts for each other over the years. I was thinking about how much they mean to me and how much you both mean to me,” you confessed, the room falling silent afterwards.

You saw his gaze soften as he looked down at you while his arms squeezed you just the tiniest bit tighter. His voice broke the silence in the room, “how did we ever deserve someone as sweet as you, darling?”

“You’ve both done a lot of good in your lives, that’s how,” you replied like it was obvious.

Neither of them said anything as they both came around to sit on either side of you, four arms wrapping around your body. Seonghwa pressed his lips to the top of your head, while Hongjoong’s lips pressed to your cheek. They don’t have to say a word, their actions telling you everything, telling you how much they love you.

You all sat there for a couple minutes, before you wiggled out of their hold, running to the kitchen and returning with the brownies you had made, using the recipe Felix gave you months ago.

Presenting them to your boyfriends, you said, “I made some brownies, to celebrate your comeback.”

Seonghwa was the first to reach out, gently grabbing one and taking a bite out of it. You watched with a smile on your face as his face lit up with joy. You looked over at your other boyfriend to find that he was watching Hwa with a smile on his face, happy because you both were happy. 

That was until your oldest boyfriend offered a bite of the brownie to Hongjoong, who took the offered bite, moaning as he tasted the brownie. Seonghwa turned to look at you and said, “I think that means you’ll have to make these brownies more often. They are wonderful my darling.”

You felt your face flush and you smiled so much that your cheeks started to hurt, and gently placed the brownies down on the coffee table before you launched yourself at Seonghwa. The idol caught you, pulling you into his lap and placing kisses all over your face before pressing your lips together and kissing you properly. Your eyes closed while your hands found their place at the base of his neck, your fingers playing with his hair. 

You could kiss Seonghwa a hundred times every day, and you would still never tire of the feeling of his lips on yours. His lips were so soft, and he always knew how exactly to kiss you that left you feeling breathless in the best way. And he did so once again, pulling away from you and ending the kiss, as you melted into his arms.

You heard and felt him chuckle, as he moved the two of you to lay on the couch, as Hongjoong shifted to give his boyfriend room, before he laid on your back and sandwiched you between the two of them. You loved nights like this, where the three of you snuggled up on the couch. Where you didn’t have to be doing anything other than just laying here in each other’s arms, and you felt complete. 

“I love you both so much,” you said as you rested your head on his chest and stared over at all of the little trinkets you had been admiring not long ago.

“I love you too, baby,” Hongjoong whispered into your back.

“I love you more than all the stars in the sky, my starlight,” Seonghwa said, kissing the top of your head once more.

You felt more joy right now than you could have imagined, and you couldn’t wait for the rest of forever with them. And for more of those trinkets and gifts to find their place in your apartment.

Taglist: @/bethelighthalazia @callmeghostly