#scribbled notes from old friends

[caffeinecortisol]

Tumblr is taping up postcards and ticket stubs to the wall of my room. It's a collection of things that connected synapses for me only, and no context. Maybe some relics are a little dusty. It doesn't mean anything it just works in entirety.

[wolpatinga]

[rainrot4me]

Return The Favor

Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation

Words: 9.4k

A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry... Characters in this story are not canonical!

It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can. 

It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong. 

Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore. 

You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too. 

There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips. 

Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously. 

But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.

You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.

Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.

“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat. 

The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.

The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.

Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body. 

You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching. 

His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest. 

You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.

“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying. 

This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.

“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot. 

You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.

“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine. 

“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute. 

“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead. 

“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager. 

Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously. 

How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.

You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage. 

Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing? 

“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.

-

He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing. 

The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.

The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously. 

As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least. 

However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.

The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while. 

You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary. 

But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences. 

As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.

-

Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes. 

It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.

You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs. 

Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.

It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.

“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”

He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement. 

Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you. 

-

Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t. 

To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head. 

It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing. 

-

Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans. 

He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement. 

Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next. 

He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down. 

Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours. 

Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.

You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now. 

You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try. 

Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.

“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them. 

Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly. 

His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers. 

You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight. 

Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands. 

Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you. 

As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other. 

Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.

“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out. 

He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him. 

He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly. 

You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked. 

Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.

As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.

-

Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.

On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast. 

Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. 

Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[belovedcloud]

One Bed

pairing: leon kennedy x fem! agent! reader

✎ synopsis: who knew saving the president's daughter was so tiring? only you and leon knew the treacherous steps towards the hotel room that was supposed to rejuvenate you both. only for him to open the door and to see one bed.

✎ notes: omg hey everyone. it has been months since my last post and thank you so much for the love on 'such a sweetheart'. i needed a hiatus from writing and i hope you guys love this one bed trope! it's not proofread so sorry if there are mistakes but i am way too lazy to read over it all. love you guys.

➤ WC: 5K

➤ CW: you helped leon save ashley, one bed trope duh, touch starved leon, kisses, petnames, cowgirl, tired sex, p in v, unprotected sex, leon cums on you.

Who knew saving the president's daughter would be so exhausting? The whole ordeal was strenuous to your muscles and mental state. A good nights rest was what you needed after the catastrophe you just encountered. Luckily, you were able to squeeze a shower before getting to the hotel. The idea of mud, bodily fluids and blood was too much to handle for any longer than necessary. Though, if it wasn't for Leon - you probably wouldn't be around currently. Being mission partners with him allowed you to understand his perspective on bioweapons and whatnot.

Without a doubt, he hated them. Despised even. This was a common viewpoint, but his hate went far beyond the normal eye.

It was best not to pry. You couldn't class yourselves as friends, just work partners. Agents who fought the living dead and anything else that came in your way. The undead was a sensitive topic to Leon. What could he have went through?

Leon's life was one of pure terror ever since he was victimised to Raccoon City. The first day on the job completely different to others who joined for the first time. Unlocking padlocks were for survival, not for fun. Reading notes left from other officers who already found their fate was disturbing. The scribbles on the paper led him out. To safety he had hoped. No. Safety was not an option that day - his welfare was tarnished every second.

Now being forced into the workforce of the government wasn't any better. Probably even worse. Time and time again Leon would feel the cold metal pressed against his temple, shakily holding the gun to his head. The index finger aching to snap the trigger to blast his brains out. Yet the same reasoning withheld him from doing so. What if another incident like Raccoon City happened in the near future? He was hired to help others - to dispose of the horrors of the world without alarming the population.

Having you as his partner was a struggle and a blessing.

His communicative state from when he was 21 was now gone. A rookie turned agent against his will led him to be colder than others. Leon kept to himself most of the time, here and there giving you a few pointers on how you can effective pop a flash grenade or what to do in a sticky situation. You reflected how he was 6 years ago. A 21 year old who was excited to start at a police department - you were an agent who was motivated to save others. Your actions held such kindness to him. No prying or none of those snickering comments he would get from the other agents at base.

Just peace.

So mentally speaking, he didn't mind having to share a room with you in this crammed hotel. It was a Saturday so it was expected. Though, other patrons would be coming here to have a one night stand or a relaxing time away from their family... you both just needed rest.

Sluggish movements paved their way to the door number, 012. You and him clinging onto your duffel bags silently. It was an awkward silence, a silence that hung below you both as he fumbled with the key card in his hand. Scanning it through to unlock the barrier between you both and the comfort of the beds that laid inside.

Beds. Or... bed?

Your eyes scan the room. Continuously trying to seek out the other bed that should be here. You examine the footing of it, seeing that it's a double bed instead of 2 singles. Great. The dumbfounded look on your face is almost laughable as the situation dawns on you. You were in a room with Leon and it only consisted of one bed for the both of you.

There were a few ways to go about this. You either both sleep in the same bed together or one takes the bed and the other finds another place to rest. Looking around, it appears that the only viable option would be the cracked leather arm chair, resting solo in the corner. Thinking about it, you were willing to give yourself a crick in your neck to save yourself from the embarrassment of sharing the bed with the other agent.

Leon thought otherwise. The brisk movement of the gear belt slung over the armchair with his duffel bag smacked down in the centre. He was tired, over the bullshit that he just fought - he couldn't care less if he had to share a bed.

"Looks like they forgot a bed huh?" He joked sarcastically, stretching his limbs. The strain of his muscles was visible, undoubtably attractive. Leon carried himself enchantingly, you wanted to learn more about him as every second passed. A sigh leaves his throat whilst he sat down on the bed, continuously stretching. The shirt riding up slightly, giving you a chance to avert your eyes to the uncovered skin. His v-line was on show, the dip down soon stopped by the fabric of his cargos. The shirt he was wearing was a tight fit, letting the muscles of his biceps become visible to the naked eye and the shape of his pecs becoming more noticeable the more you looked.

At least you had a bed in the room? That was the only positive you could find from this when removing your gear off your body. Slinging it into the corner of the room alongside your bag. You both are exhausted from the long day, so you were thankful there's at least a bed to share.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick..." His movements are swift, already gripping onto his shirt he reveals his back to you - throwing the shirt on the floor beforehand. Multiple scars are littered faintly around the skin but the more distinguishable thing is his muscles. Leon's toned body calls out to you as his shoulder to waist ratio is insane. A slim waist, broad shoulders, it all speaks to you. You can feel your body speaking back as you look at him a little longer than expected.

Your little fangirling sesh is over when he shuts the bathroom door behind him - you let a breath you didn't know you withheld. Well, all you could do was wait for him to finish his shower before you could have one. The pitter patter of the water hitting the shower floor is heard before it dies down - giving you a mental note that Leon was now cleaning himself. Why are you even thinking about this?

Leon lets out a sigh once the hot water hits his body. An instant relieving feeling flowing through him as he just stands there for a minute. Soaking in the greatness of water before grabbing the washcloth and shower gel nicely provided by the hotel staff. Squeezing the bottle, a dollop of soap smothers the cloth before he runs it across his body.

Humming can be heard whilst he cleanses his body, ensuring to dispose of all the sweat and dirt from their recent mission. Reflecting back on the situation, he started to feel a bit nervous having to share a bed with you tonight. You were pretty, very pretty to him. He mentally scolded himself whilst he ran the cloth down his chest - his mind returning back to you. A soft moan elicited out of his lips made his hand smack his face. Leon wasn't sure why he was feeling this way. Instinctive movements of him washing himself in motion, his fingers manoeuvring the washcloth on autopilot as his mind focused on you. He can't help but think about you some more, remembering your cute smile when you would hand him a cup of coffee at base. Or your simple gestures of making sure he was comfortable and how you reserved yourself around him made his heart skip a beat.

It had been a while since he thought about someone romantically, his job stripping him of any personal life as the thought of the multitude of viruses around the world was increasing each day. But now, deep down... he could feel an attraction to you. Leon wasn't sure if it was sexual or genuine love - it would be too soon to tell. However, this feeling was deep rooted within, his mind wanted to show you love. His heart longing for someone.

A sentiment he had not felt in a while.

Trying to calm his heart down from going into cardiac arrest, giving himself a mental pep talk - trying not to think about you too much. He shuts off the water soon after and grabs the white towel neatly folded on top of the counter cabinet. Rubbing himself dry and wrapping it around his waist - tightening it slightly. He doesn't want an accident to happen.

Your mind shuts off as you hear footsteps in the bathroom. He was out. Okay. Do you look away when he opens the door? Leon doesn't give you time to think as the door creaks open, revealing himself into the main room. His bare chest and hair still damp for show. Jesus Christ. His damped skin looks good in the dim light, as if he had displayed himself just for you. He notices you sitting tensely on the bed, his body approached you. Blue eyes instantly drifting to your body and lingering for a second before he snaps out of it.

"I needed that..." He groans out, sitting beside you. You mentally slap yourself as you snap your thoughts back to the present.

"Yeah I bet, I already had a shower before we got here so I'm alright." Your response is meek, but at least you had something to respond with.

The man next to you raises his eyebrows at you in slight surprise, he wasn't expecting you to have already taken a shower - but by the look of it, you did look super clean compared to him before. Perhaps you had it when he was getting questioned at base for the report of the mission. Leon tries to keep his eyes focused on your face and not your body. "Oh lucky you," he replied with a smirk.

"I couldn't stand all the random liquids on me, it was disgusting." A chuckle leaves you when you remember looking at yourself in the mirror. Gross... but at least you could laugh at yourself for getting in such a mess? "You were subjected to most of the mess to be honest." Leon chortled out, reminiscing on your reaction when you had novistador blood all over you.

Your conversation with him was cut short when you both recalled the situation laid opened to the two of you. One bed, two agents. It seemed childish that you couldn't think the both of you could share a bed - it was just awkward. Really awkward.

"I can take the floor if you want?" The sound of your voice cuts through the silence, Leon replayed the question in his head before shaking his head. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not letting you sleep on this cold ass floor." His eyes averted to the hardwood floor, indicating that your question was out of order.

"You want to share the bed then?" This question to Leon was better, he really didn't mind another person next to him whilst he slept. Recalling past moments, he's slept through worse. "We're both adults here. We can share the bed, it won't be bad." A calm response from the agent. What more could you expect?

Your reluctant nod allows him to get back up to look through the wardrobe in the hotel room. A couple extra blankets stored alongside some pyjamas that the workforce provided for both of you. You two were granted a pair of sweatpants and black top - your eyes brightened up, realising you weren't having to sleep in fresh gear wear.

"I'll go in the bathroom to change, you can change here." An authoritative tone left him, not giving you a chance to speak back before he returned back into the bathroom. Scurrying over to the open wardrobe, you hand picked your pyjamas - undressing yourself from the imprisonment of your current clothes to something a lot more baggy and comfortable. A sigh let loose from you, your body mindlessly walking over to the bed and plopping down on the edge. The mattress aiding in soothing your back from the hellish ride you attuned escaping the island.

A yawn seeped through your lips, hazily looking at your phone screen at the time, 01:24... It really was time to rest. Though, the thought of Leon couldn't leave your mind. He plagued your brain - a part of you didn't complain.

A sound of a door creaking open embarked into your ears, Leon had changed into his nightclothes. The tank top fit snugly on his body however, the pair of sweatpants seemed a little baggy. Clearly a little too big for him since they were hanging dangerously low on his hips. He was plain exhausted. His limbs gradually moved him to the bed that you two were about to share. Sinking his body into the mattress as the sheets hugged his frame.

Minutes passed, a silence rose in the room. Leon's back laid restfully whilst scrolling through countless media apps to pass the time. His mind wandering back to you. The heat emanating his body contradicted with the cold expression on his face. Why was he so hard to read? You couldn't tell if he was even comfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with you. Your body laid on it's side, staring at him brazenly. Forgetting that your eyes were peering at his body, Leon's gaze averted to you - an eyebrow raised on his face.

"You alright?" His question caught you off guard; no you weren't okay. Not when he was so close to you, the faint smell of him seeping into your senses. You genuinely couldn't be okay in this situation.

"Mhm, m'alright. Just tired." Leon's eyes glanced at you and his eyes shamelessly roamed over your body before he forced himself to look back down at the device in his hand. 'What the hell are you doing?' The question rung in his mind over and over again as he thought about you. There was no denying the fact that he found you incredibly attractive - but for you to be his work partner... It was unprofessional for such thoughts to occur in his mind. Shakily putting down the phone in his grasp he spoke. "You should get some rest, it's getting late."

Like rest was an option. Turning your head towards him, a twinge of irritation was mixed in with your voice. "I know, it's just.. it's hard to sleep right now." The idea of you and him so close was making your head foggy, especially now since he rolled onto his side - discarding his phone on the bedside table. He now faced you, noticing the tone of your voice. Was there something bothering you?

"Why's it hard?" It was starting to click in Leon's head that them sharing a bed may have made you nervous. Scared perhaps. Analysing your expression, he was observant in your body language. A hint of worry trespassed his vision whilst he watched you silently - waiting for you to continue. His head in his hand, inaudibly taking notice of how pretty you look. Completely captivated from your features, he shook his head to clear his mind.

"We're sharing a bed, now I know there's nothing between us but it's just... weird? No offence! Like you're not weird you know that I just-" Realising you were rambling, a heavy sigh left your lips. It was hard trying to compose yourself, particularly because Leon was looking at you. He didn't look confused nor grossed out.. just enamoured. Lovesick eyes boring into yours when he heard you ramble for a moment.

A slight chuckle was brought out from him when you mentioned the closeness between the two of you, a small idea crossed his mind about how your body was mere inches away from his. He swallowed before speaking. "None taken, I get it. Sharing a bed can be kinda intimate huh?" He found it rather cute that you were so antsy. "But I'm glad we have a bed..."

Leon was right, you convinced yourself nothing was weird - staring at the cream coloured ceiling. A light huff was let out of Leon's nose. "Just try and relax," he mumbled, unsure on how to comfort you. Watching you snuggle under the covers, a slight smile spread across his face.

"Cute."

Leon surprised himself that he mumbled it out loud, his body tensing from the fear that reigned his body. Mentally face palming himself, rapidly looking away from you. Reprimanding himself for being so stupid to let it slip out.

After a moment, a lower voice was heard from him. "I mean- Ugh, sorry I didn't mean to make this so awkward." Shifting himself further from you, feeling ashamed of himself - you stop him from almost falling off the bed. "No no, it's fine!" Your efforts of comforting him didn't help him as it was clear he was still embarrassed. Leon's mind kept recalling the scene, shouldered with how attractive you were.

"I meant it." He stated. Leon had no clue where this confidence in him was coming from, but he hoped it wouldn't run out any time soon. The look on your face made him feel less nervous. A shocked expression plastered all over you - stuttering not knowing what to say. He found you to be the prettiest woman he had ever seen, the kindest too. Looking back at it all, he registered all along he had a little thing for you. You respected him, valued his need for privacy and want to be unjudged. Not many knew of his situation and Leon's involvement in Raccoon City. You didn't even know, you never pried.

Shamelessly, a fat smile shone on your face. Leon's expression softened as he found himself in awe. His body itched, craving your touch. Your love. This renowned love blossomed within him.

"You're cute too." That one sentence could make his heart stop if he really went into deep thought about it. Leon never really found himself to be that attractive, yeah his muscles were good in some aspect in his eyes. He did train well, he gave himself that. After all, he was the one many depended on to save the abundance of sick problems this once calm world faced.

Another silence was shared between the two of you - not one of awkwardness but one of solace. Leon didn't feel distressed, he felt calm. You brought out a side of him which he believed was gone. The side being the young man who wasn't scared of the future. A time where he was happy within himself and oblivious. All he could picture was you. You and him happily being each other's bridge.

Each other's home.

"I'm glad we got that out of the way." A breathless voice cut you both out of your trances. Leon flickering his view on you. Your face, those beautiful eyes staring into his own. The soft lips of yours calling out to him. Your bare neck, a blank canvas for his kisses and bites. His eyes then averted to the base of your neck, your chest covered by the black shirt you wore. Feeling his stare, the burning sensation in your cheeks rose. "What... what now?" The scary question was imprinted in your mind. It was obvious you both had a thing for each other, yet what were you going to do about it? Perhaps a relationship could happen between the both of you; would you both just stay work partners?

"Can I.. can I hold you?" Vulnerability was present in Leon's voice. He craved to touch your skin, his fingers twitching slightly from the excitement. Touch starved. That was the true definition of Leon's love life right now. He hadn't involved himself in relationship matters for years and now that the chance popped up with you, he would take what he could get.

You didn't even say yes, your body spoke for you. Wrapping your arms around his chest - you could feel his heartbeat. Rapid pumps thudded into your ear. Strong arms hugged you back clearly stating silently that Leon couldn't let you go. You'd be surprised if his shirt didn't have an imprint of your face since you were so close against him. Breaking free slightly, your head popped up - looking up at him. You were presented with his Adam's apple, slowly bobbing up and down as he swallowed looking down at you. The rough bump alluring you in whilst your hazy eyes lingered on the skin of his neck. Moles sparsely speckled all over his skin. God had crafted Leon himself, you were sure of it.

Moreover, the heat from his body lingered around you. Creating an invisible fortress of affection and love as both of you stared at each other.

A shaky hand pressed against the skin of your cheek, calloused pads caressing you. "You're so pretty." Leon mumbled, shifting a bit. Your touch to him granted him a sense of warmth, he even leaned into it a little - subconsciously seeking comfort. You brought out the 'weak' side of him, it felt nice for him to let down his guard and be himself around you. He let out a pleased hum as he cuddled you, the hold over you was tight. To you, it seemed like he was starved for physical contact and was finally getting the human touch he deserved.

What happened next was a blur, to both of you anyway. The stare-off between his blue eyes and your own turned into your faces being so close together; guaranteed to kiss. An eskimo kiss shared with him, the tips of both your noses touching. Lips hovering over his, your whisper snaps him out of his daze. "Thank you..." Your gratitude granted you a chuckle from Leon but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.

Leon continued to stare at you but to pinpoint, he was eying at your lips. They looked so soft, the mere sight of them making his heart race more. He swallowed hard, his mind clouded with the vision of kissing you. An overwhelming sense of desire passing through him - it was need. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't just go in for a kiss; not without consent. Yet he craved to feel his lips against yours.

"Can I kiss you?" His mumbled whisper echoed through your ears. Were you hearing him correctly?

Kiss? You?

Besides, it's not like you were going to straight out reject him. That wasn't even possible in this situation with him; pressed so close against you that you could feel his rock hard boner pressing against your thigh. A nimble nod from you responding to his question was all he needed.

Leon's lips are soft, softer than you would expect. Sweet little kisses are shared, melting you into him. His hands now run down your back, rubbing your skin through the cotton shirt. He hums, tilting your head slightly back to get a better angle. It feels messy as saliva is shared between the two of you. A soft whine escaping you when Leon breaks away. Reining you back in, he gives you another kiss. Pure passion and love interweaved in it.

Kisses soon turn into touches as your fingers manoeuvre around his torso, slowly digging your fingers into him - eliciting a groan out his mouth. His touch on you becomes possessive, kneading your skin in his hands. Leon holds you close and after a few minutes, you find yourself on his lap. His hands automatically went to your hips, gripping you tight as his eyes locked onto yours. Those blue eyes of his roamed your body shamelessly whilst he held you against him, taking in the view of your straddling his hips.

You could feel the hard-on beneath you, begging for some friction. Subconsciously, your hips start to rock slightly, Leon takes full control as he guides you. There was no way he could stop right now, not with how his body was aching so badly and having you on his lap like this. "Can we take this slow? We're both... really tired." A yawn escapes you mid sentence, you can feel yourself getting tired and wet.

"Yeah, we can take this slow. Anything you want love." The nickname shoots desire right into your veins, the rasp in his voice concocted with a tired sigh as he watches you grind on him is heavenly. Shuddering from his touch, Leon brings you down to lay on him - adjusting you on his lap. Your foreheads touch, all you can see is love in his eyes. Leon's fingers tug on your shirt, a breathless chuckle leaving him before he asks the question. "Can I take this off?" He can't help but want to see you, feel you - caress the smoothness of your skin on the pads of his fingers. Hearing you say the word "yes" made his hands work in a fast fashion as your torso was soon left bare.

"So beautiful..." He sat you back up, feeling your flesh mould in-between his fingers. Leon ached for you, he wanted to have more energy to give you the proper fucking you deserved. However, the past mission and the strain it had on both of your bodies exempted him from treating you the way he wanted. So he had to settle for soft, gentle sex. Just like you wanted.

Rapid breathing contradicted the mellow touches shared between you both, your hips continuously rocking slowly before he lifts you up slightly - removing the same sweatpants that were already dangerously low. You're face to face with his boxers, a clear wet patch showcasing the pre-cum that leaked out of his tip.

"See what you do to me?" Leon groaned out, palming himself slowly - your eyes following his every movement. He was enchanting nonetheless, alluring you in with every pump he did to himself. Leon's mind was fogged with you, the view of you turning every cell in his brain insane. He seriously couldn't get enough of your watchful eyes scanning his hand; viewing the pornographic sight in front of you.

Although once again he did think to make this the best sex he's had in a while, it was obvious you both were too tired to even do anything remotely crazy that night. So plain ole cowgirl it is.

Quick work was made for your sweatpants as they were easily tossed to the floor, your panties being the the second piece of protection between you and Leon's boxers straining his dick in place. His hands guided you still, the subtle movements rocking back on forth bringing both of you a sense of release you both needed. Silken kisses bringing out a wave of passion. Playing with the band of his boxers - a dark look appeared in his gaze.

"Impatient?" The mere one word question could've left you astonished if you weren't so hazy from being aroused. Of course you were impatient. He was the embodiment of seduction. "Well, yeah." A laugh escaped both Leon and you, your eyes boring into his.

"Shouldn't keep you waiting should I?"

Sliding your panties to the side; pulling his boxers down, it was easy for his cock to slide in. Eliciting a deep moan from the both of you as kisses were shared once again. Leon couldn't believe how good you felt, he already felt pussy drunk. The two of you shared tired eyes and low whimpers whilst your hips rocked back and forth.

"You're so pretty..." Leon mumbled out, dazed out of his mind looking at how your body synchronised with his. The way his dick was slipping in and out of you, pressing into that sweet spot of yours. How were you so pretty? And how did you already make such a mess? Glancing down, his eyes followed to the feeling of wetness coating the base of his cock - your inner thighs glistening from how wet you were. Completely mesmerised, Leon looked up at you with pure love and lust.

You couldn't talk, not when all your throat could conjure was the moans and low screams as his hips started to jerk up slightly - thrusting himself further in you. Holding onto the bedframe keeping you both afloat, your mumbles tried to alert him from the upcoming orgasm reaching you. "Mmph... L-Leon, I..." was all you could muster. It was the only coherent thing he could understand before feeling you tighten up.

"That's it baby, keep going." The softness in his voice juxtaposed the way his hips were snapping up and down, Leon couldn't help it. Your pussy felt too good wrapped around him. He had to put in the last of his energy to making you feel good at least. Lazily, his hand slowly reached your clothed clit - his fingers slowly rubbing the fabric of your panties. The perfect amount of friction to make your bundle of nerves become overstimulated whilst being stuffed full.

Your tired eyes locked with his, feeling yourself getting closer to seventh heaven. A small smirk plastered on Leon's face, watching you breathlessly whilst his dick twitched too.

"Gotta pull out..." He murmured, his fingers making you reach the pinnacle of your orgasm. "L-Leon!" All you could do was shudder on-top of him, feeling the remaining energy in you seep out alongside your orgasm. Collapsing onto him, Leon subtly slipped himself out, painting your clit and lower stomach with his cum. A low hum leaving him as he kissed the nape of your neck. "You did so well."

Panting heavily, your moan responded to his words. Chuckling to himself, Leon held you close whilst sitting up. Grabbing a few tissues in the box to wipe your tummy.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up."

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

[flowersforbucky]

delirium

bucky barnes x reader (sex pollen trope)

word count: 4.1k

summary: stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you.

warnings/tags: sex pollen, dub con, unprotected sex, oral, masturbation, angst, descriptions of physical pain, language, friends to lovers, avenger!reader, no use of y/n, reader is afab, 18+ only

flashbacks are in italics

Sometime in the near future, there would be a case study conducted on how long a human being could burn from the inside without dying.

They would refer to you as exhibit a.

Doctors and scientists would lay your cold corpse on a colder table and use a scalpel to cut you from your thorax to your belly button. They would scribble notes about how your lungs had turned to ash and your esophagus to molten lava.

They wouldn't say it, but they would think it's a shame, because your driver's license states that you were an organ donor.

A harsh gust of wind snaps you out of the twisted fantasy and back to your reality - standing barefoot on the rickety front porch steps of a small cabin in Sitka, Alaska. You've only been outside for a few minutes but the snow is pouring down at a brutal pace, already covering the tops of your exposed feet.

The razor sharp chill of the ground below you and the air that surrounds you are the only things tethering you to what little remains of your sanity.

You never thought that you would be so thankful for your feet to be going numb, but after feeling like every fiber of your being is getting melted with a hot branding iron for - what? Ten? Twelve hours now? You had to resist the temptation to submerge your entire body in the multiple feet of snow that had accumulated since nightfall.

You hear the front door of the cabin creak open from behind you. You don't have to turn around to know that he's standing in the doorway with the same look of pleading desperation that he's been giving you since the two of you had realized what was happening.

“You need to come back inside,” he says delicately. His voice is muffled by the roar of the snowstorm, but right now with heightened senses, you hear him just fine. “You're going to get hypothermia.”

You don't respond. The mere sound of his voice makes you grit your teeth together so hard that you're surprised the tiny bones don't shatter.

He keeps to the doorway, scared that if he takes one step closer, you'll flee into the miles of thick woods that surrounds you in only a pair of old sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He murmurs your name in a tone that begs you to come in from the below freezing temperatures.

“What time is it now?” You barely recognize your own voice - low and strained, it sounds like you haven't had anything to drink in days.

You clear your throat, though you doubt it'll make any difference.

“Just after four o'clock.”

Eleven hours into this hell, then. Best case scenario, another half a day of this. Worst case scenario, close to two.

Either way, you knew that these symptoms had yet to hit their peak. This would undoubtedly get worse before it gets better.

You stare out into the endless thicket of snow covered hemlocks and spruces. The illumination from the full moon makes the white powder on the branches glisten in the darkness.

Daylight was still hours away, and with it, hope for some means of communication with the rest of your team back in New York. The snowstorm had brought a widespread power outage across the city. Cell phone signal was nonexistent right now.

“Go on back to your room,” you tell him. “I'll come back inside in just a moment.” You continue to watch the blizzard before you, knowing that he's still just a few feet away from you. “I promise,” you add, hoping that he’ll believe you and return to the bedroom you'd been forcing him to keep to.

The drug coursing through your veins had amplified every one of your five senses. Even with him behind the closed door of the bedroom, you could still smell faint traces of the earthy musk of his deodorant and something warm that is uniquely him.

You wouldn't chance coming back into the house until his scent has dissipated from the entrance - not unless you want to feel as though all air is being stripped from your lungs.

Even simply standing here, with him behind you and the wind blowing his scent in the opposite direction, is nearly intolerable.

You hear footsteps retreat into the house, growing quieter and quieter as he makes his way back down the hallway, until you finally hear the click of his bedroom door. You exhale a breath that you weren't aware you had been holding in.

You have no doubt that he'll try to drag you back inside by the ankles if he has to, so you make good on your promise and return to the sweltering interior of the six hundred square foot log cabin.

A sharp, stabbing pain radiates from the center of your body at that thought - the exact kind of thoughts you were actively trying to avoid having. Thoughts of his hands digging into your thighs, his wet mouth on your throat, his bare chest pressed against yours as he fucks you into the likely thirty-something year old couch - those thoughts. Dangerous territory thoughts - the kind you didn't trust yourself not to act on if dwelled upon for too long.

Apparently, the thought of him putting his hands around your ankles and dragging you kicking and screaming falls into that category.

You settle onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest in an effort to alleviate the ache in your lower belly. You notice that Bucky has crammed more wood into the fireplace, which currently serves as the main source of light for the cabin, save for a few candles that have been placed sporadically throughout the small space.

Sweat begins to bead across your skin within seconds of sitting down in front of the fire. You know that Bucky is just trying to keep the temperature of the house from dropping below zero while also providing enough light to see during the middle of the night while you are in too much discomfort to sleep, but you feel like you are locked in a sauna after running five miles.

You think back to all of the times that you've given Sam shit for taking ice baths after his workouts. Now nothing sounds better than an ice bath.

Almost nothing, anyway. The only thing that could possibly feel even better is laying down behind a closed door less than twenty feet away.

And he'd offered - begged, actually, to take this pain away from you.

“Please,” he whispers, kneeling on the ground next to the couch, where you sit hunched over in pain. He's so close to you and it's fucking suffocating. He places his hand on your knee and you have to dig your nails into the suede upholstery to keep from whimpering. He notices the reaction and retracts his touch.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” he says louder, the pet name finally getting you to meet his gaze for the first time since you dropped the glass jar of the firetruck red powder in the former HYDRA warehouse two hours ago.

Big mistake. Looking at him is a big fucking mistake. From the way his blue eyes bore into yours with sincere concern to the way that his plump, pink lips are slightly chapped from the cold weather -

“No,” you say firmly, shaking your head into your hands. “I can't ask that of you. I can't make you do that. I would never forgive my–”

“You wouldn't be asking or making me do anything,” he tries to reason with you. There's sincerity in his voice but you're too delirius to hear the truth of his words. “I'm offering. Because I care about you. Because I don't want to see you in any kind of pain if there's anything I can do about it. Because I think you'd do the same for me if the situation were–”

“Bucky,” you cut him off in a strained gasp. “Your voice is making this so much worse right now.”

“Then let me help you. Let me make you feel good.”

His words alone are enough to have you clenching your thighs around nothing but the thick material of your sweatpants. You can feel your cotton panties becoming more drenched with each word he speaks.

“Not like this.” You're on the verge of tears - from pain, from anger at the entire situation, from how goddamn badly you need to feel him inside you. “It can't happen like this. I never wanted it to happen like this.”

His features soften, a look of understanding spreading across his face.

“When we fuck, I want it to be because we want to fuck,” you say as you jump up from your position on the couch, desperately needing to distance yourself from him before you do something you can't take back. “I don't want it to be because we feel like neither of us have a choice in the matter.”

“But we do have a choice,” he murmurs from where he's still kneeling on the floor next to the couch. “And I'd choose to go back to that HYDRA facility and infect myself with this shit, too, if it means you'd feel a little less guilty about saying yes.”

Your answer to that was, of course, a big, giant absolutely fucking not. The snow started pouring down shortly after, making his irrational proclamation an impossibility, anyway.

Almost half a day later, here you are. Surrounded by miles and miles of snow and ice in a town with no power or semi-functioning cell phone towers, just trying to endure the fire coursing through your veins until the effects of the HYDRA made drug have worked through your system.

You're coming up on the twelve hour mark now, and there's no denying that you're desperate for relief in one way or another.

Worth a fucking shot, you think.

You prop your feet up on the glass coffee table in front where you sit on the couch, spreading your thighs apart by a few inches.

You hesitate for a moment, listening for any kind of indication that Bucky's no longer in the confines of the cabin’s singular bedroom.

Dead silent, except for the crackling of the wood burning in the fireplace.

You snake your hand down the front of your pants, past the waistband of your underwear and to your center that's been aching for hours now.

You stroke your fingers up and down your folds, stopping at the apex of your core to massage your clit in circular motions.

Your head rolls back on the couch at the sensation, immediately feeling the slightest sense of relief. You dig your teeth into your lower lip to keep from moaning - hard enough to draw blood, the taste of iron flooding your mouth.

You slip two fingers past your entrance, not requiring any foreplay to plunge them to the hilt. It feels good - the way you're working yourself with rapid scissoring motions. Really fucking good, actually. Better than fingering yourself has ever felt.

But only a mere minute into the ministrations, you fear that it won't be enough to satiate you in the way that the drug requires.

Still, you try. You yank your t-shirt above your tits, bringing your free hand to paw at your breast as you continue working your pussy with your fingers, the heel of your palm putting pressure against your clit.

“That's not going to work, you know.”

You yank your hand out of your pants, snapping your head to the side to see him leaning against the frame of the small hallway. You had been so immersed in attempting to find some amount of relief that you hadn't heard him exit the bedroom. He's looking at you with sympathy and concern, not judgment - you don't think you'd be able to find it within yourself to feel embarrassed even if he were. Not in your current state of discomfort.

“How do you know that?” Frustration is evident in your voice. You look away from him, back to the fire in front of you as you pull your shirt back down. The floor creaks as he steps out of the hallway and makes his way over to the opposite end of the small couch. He sits a foot away from you, close enough so that his scent and warmth invades your senses, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core.

“Because I've been through what you're going through right now.”

Your eyes break away from the ember that you've been staring at, your gaze snapping to him. You don't know why this comes as a surprise to you. It shouldn't, not with every other form of torment that HYDRA had inflicted upon him for over half a century.

“Why didn't you tell me?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was embarrassed,” he answers with a small half-shrug, breaking your stare. “I didn't.. handle it as well as you are,” he continues, shame in his voice and cheeks rosy. “You’re doing everything you can to fight something that you didn't ask for. That's more than I can say for myself.”

“You were brainwashed, Bucky,” you remind him delicately. It's a risky move that makes your skin burn and belly clench, but you scoot closer to him on the couch - your outermost thigh brushing against his knee. If the two of you weren't both wearing sweatpants, the minimal touch might even aid in bringing you some relief. Instead, you’re left feeling desperate for more of him.

But you push the feeling down, wanting to do what little you can to comfort him - wanting him to know that you don't think poorly of him for what was forced onto him, and what is now being forced onto you, too.

“I would never judge you for anything they made you do,” you assure him.

“I know you wouldn't,” he murmurs, turning to face you again. His blue eyes glow in the low lighting of the fire. The closeness between the two of you is dizzying, and electrifying, and -

“And I want you to know that I would never judge you for giving into this torture,” he adds.

You snort a laugh. “I'm starting to think you want me to give into this.” You mean for the statement to sound light-hearted, but a sharp pang in your gut makes you wince in pain and your voice goes shrill. You clutch your lower belly, hunching over at the pain.

He leans in closer, putting one hand on your lower back and one on your thigh. You whimper at the pressure of his fingers against your spine and inner thigh. Even through your clothes, the contact feels like heaven compared to hell you've been enduring for the last twelve hours.

You lean into his touch - you don't even think about it, you just do it. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your forehead nuzzling the warm skin of his throat.

You take a deep inhale, attempting to steady your breathing, and you realize quickly that is a mistake - his scent is so euphoric, it feels like inhaling flames.

“Would it make it easier for you if I said that I do want you to give in?” His voice is low, his breath fanning across your face from his position above you.

“Fuck, Bucky, you can't say that to me right now,” you whine. You fist your hands into the fabric of his t-shirt, your eyes squint shut.

“Look at me,” he commands. You force your eyes open, pulling your head back enough to look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I want it to be your choice.” He brings a hand up to cup your jawline. His thumb skims the outline of your bottom lip. “But I would be lying if I said that I'm not relieved that I'm the one here with you, or that I wouldn't enjoy every second of helping you feel better.”

He brings his hands to yours, pulling them away from where they still clutch his shirt. You release your grip, allowing him to hold you by your wrists. He pulls your right hand up to his face, stopping just under his nose. Your brows furrow in confusion, until it dawns on you what it is he's doing.

He inhales deeply, then lowers your hand to his parted mouth. He slips the tips of your index and middle fingers past his lips, and then swirls his tongue around the two digits.

The exact two that had been inside your pussy not even five minutes ago.

Right now, you think you could come from him sucking on your fingers and nothing else.

You don't even try to stop the groan that slips past your lips as you shove your fingers deeper into his mouth. He moans around them as he finishes cleaning them off, the sound sending vibrations up your arm and throughout your body.

You pull your fingers from between his lips and immediately crush your own lips to his in their place. You feel the drug surging through your veins, but this time it's less excruciating - it now feels like pure adrenaline bubbling under your skin, spurring you on.

He opens his mouth to you, your lips and tongue moving with his in synchronicity. It's hurried and messy, and maybe not as romantic as you had imagined it in your head before this night - but it's exactly what you need right now.

He maneuvers you so that you're laying down on the couch, and nestles himself between your thighs. You can feel the hard outline of his erection through the thin material of his sweatpants. He ruts against you, dragging the bulge across your clothed center as he yanks your t-shirt up and over your head. He tosses it somewhere behind the couch before attaching his mouth to one of your nipples and palming the other with the cool metal of his left hand.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling the full weight of his body down against you. You stick your hands up the back of his t-shirt, scratching your nails down the skin of his back.

“I need more,” you gasp out as he pinches your nipple between his teeth, rolling it in his lips. The clothing that separates the two of you feels like a prison. “I need to feel you.”

He pulls away, leaning back to perch on his knees between your legs. Your eyes roam down the chiseled planes of his chest until they land on the defined “V” shape that disappears into the waistband of his low-hanging pants.

He hooks his fingers into your sweatpants and underwear and tugging them both down past your ankles, then throwing them somewhere across the room with both of your long-forgotten shirts.

His eyes trail your body from your breasts to your thighs, his pupils dilating in the firelight. He splays his hands across the meat of your inner thighs, pinning your legs open wide for him. He lowers himself back down on the couch, belly down so his face hovers just above your pussy.

“Bucky, I swear if you don't put your mouth–”

He laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle before his tongue slips between his lips. It darts to your hole, licking a soft strip up to your clit. You exhale a sharp hiss of pleasure, your hands shooting to lace your fingers through tendrils of his hair. You arch into his touch, meeting the thrusts of his tongue with thrusts of your hips. He eats like you're the best thing he's ever tasted - like he's wanted this for way longer than this drug has been in your system.

You're coming on his face in an embarrassing amount of time, really. Thanks to the influence of the pollen, you currently have the stamina and endurance of a teenager losing their virginity. Your thighs are clenched around either side of his head, writhing above him as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

The relief that you feel as you come down from your high feels like years of pent up frustration leaving your body all at once.

You don't quite feel entirely like yourself - there's still a dull ache in your core, and your skin’s still feverish - though that could be due to the fire that the two of you are just feet away from. But you're now able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Come here,” you whisper, your voice low and honeyed. He crawls over you, his chest brushing against yours as he centers himself above you. His skin shines with a thin layer of sweat that mingles with your own. You reach a hand between your two bodies, palming his erection through the sweatpants that he has yet to shed. You keep your eyes locked on his face, watching as his eyes roll back into his head and his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as you massage him through the fabric. Your other hand juts down to the waistband of his pants and you tug them downwards, far enough to help him shimmy them down to his knees.

His cock springs forward and he takes himself in his flesh hand, pumping his length several times before teasing your folds with his tip. He collects your slick along his length, lubricating himself before nudging his head just past your entrance.

You're more than ready for him - hours of desperation in addition to already having come on his face leaves you needing no further preparation before he's filling you up with his impressive length and girth. There's a slight burn at the sheer fullness of it, but there's also a wave of relief that your body has been craving for hours.

He pulls out halfway, then rocks back into you. He starts slow - trying to hold back for his own sake or for yours, you're unsure. Gradually, he increases his speed, hitting your cervix at that sweet angle that not everyone knows how to work. You lean forward, raising your head enough to capture his lips in yours once more.

You taste yourself on him - a dichotomy of sweet and salty mixed with something entirely unique. He brings his flesh hand in between your bodies, lowering his fingers to your clit where he begins rubbing pressured circles. You moan his name into his mouth and he responds by biting your lip between his teeth, his movements becoming messier.

“You gonna come on my cock?” he asks in a low growl when he feels your pussy clenching around him. “Gonna fill you up and make you feel all better.”

His words send you tumbling over the edge for the second time - that telltale warm coil in your belly bursting at the same time that he begins spilling his warmth into you.

He collapses, pinning you between his body and the couch beneath you. Starting at your shoulder, he peppers kisses along your collarbones and up your neck until he’s finally eye-level with you.

“We can do that again,” he says in a breathy voice, still inside you. “If you need to, that is. Or if you just want you.” There's a mischievous grin spread across his face and a twinkle in his eyes. It's the most carefree you've seen him since the two of you left New York to come here for this mission. You put your hands on his chest, jokingly attempting to shove him away from you.

“Oh, I don't think I need to,” you jab at him. “I'm feeling pretty great now, but thank you for your services.” He laughs, pulling out of you and sitting back against the couch. He pulls you up with him, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. “But I think I might want to again. You know, now that I'm no longer in excruciating pain.” He hums in agreement, stroking his flesh fingers across the side of your stomach.

“I'm glad you were the one here with me too, Bucky."

thank you for reading! i know sooo many people have done this trope, especially for bucky, but it's truly one of my all time favorites and i just needed to get this out of my system so i hope you all enjoyed

comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

other works by me: oil & water • down bad • acquainted •

[on-the-clear-blue]

Original idea coming from @the-witchhunter and then added on to by many others.

Dead Man's Diner

---

Danny was tired okay? It may very well be his own damn fault but he can't keep waking up during daylight hours, while yes, he can fully be up and sitting at a desk, the likelihood of him waking up getting shouted at by his boss for sleeping on the job was astounding.

So at 19 years old, freshly jobless, Danny said Fuck it and moved away from Amity Park, Valarie was more than willing to handle the few ghosts that still came through the portal since he became the King.

You might be wondering, why isn't Danny filthy rich and rolling in it as the ghost king? Two words, the Observants.

Those flouting eye bastards had moved in and said that unless he was the king full time, he was unable to access the vaults of the Infinite Realms.

So once again, 19, freshly jobless and wanting to get out of Gotham? Danny was very lucky to have friends that love him far to much, Sam and Tucker both pitched in to move him out to where they had chosen to do collage.

*Gotham* oh Sam was in love with the place, the architecture, the people, (and maybe a certain green supervillian that was determined to make the city better) and Tucker was obsessing over being in the same city as Wayne Enterprises, trying his best to get into their internship program by his own merit rather than just hacking himself into it.

And Danny? He was loving it for a slightly different reason.

While the death rate was unfortunately high in Gotham, that also meant that the amount of passive ectoplasim generated by the deaths was massive, it was almost as rich as back in Amity Park with the portal into the ghost zone!

(Oh and the many job opportunities but Danny was a little less worried about that.)

---

Letting out a sigh, Danny scrubbed at his eyes as he leaned back into his chair, another job he had to turn down due to it being shady as all get out.

4 hours and he was getting payed 200 bucks? Major criminal vibes from that...

Taking a moment to get himself balanced, Danny leaned back and looked to the clunky laptop that Tucker had given him, it was modified to hell and back, so it still ran quickly, but it sure as he'll wasn't pretty.

Clicking on yet another job listing, Danny paused as he felt a shiver run down his spine, and a blue mist pass through his lips, blinking, he twisted around to look at the spare room of Sam's apartment, Ghosts tend not to get close enough to him to trigger the ghost sense in Gotham...

Seeing nothing, Danny turned back to his laptop only to find a piece of paper stuck to the screen with tape, freezing at first, the dark haired man sighed deeply, peeling it off he held it close as he read it.

[Help wanted at Big C's Dinner! Looking for a night cook that knows their way around a kitchen!]

There was a few more lines that Danny's eyes skimmed over, picking up the location that it was at, it even had a decent pay, but he paid more attention to the scribbled on note at the bottom of it.

[Daniel, head to this place at 12 am tonight. While the Observants said that you may not touch a single coin in your vaults, they side nothing of your properties.]

---

So Danny knows how to handle himself, he has fought many, many people and still came out half alive, but even he felt a little on edge coming down to the railroad tracts in Gotham, because apparently that was were Big C's dinner was at...which he apparently owned? Clockwork works in mysterious ways that Danny was so done trying to figure out.

Stepping up to a bit of abandoned tract, he blinked a few times at the site of Big C's.

It was a decent sized Dinning Car, with a ramp that attached itself to a proper street, it had peeling green paint and dirty white accents with charming rusted steel connecting it to the tracts, the only thing new looking on it was a bit banner stretched across it, stating the name "BIG C'S ALL DAY EVERY DAY BREAKFAST CART! OPEN 24/7!"

The windows were close off by tinted yellow blinds, but he could still see light coming through them. Stepping up the ramp Danny felt the cart under him shudder and something inside of him fluttered, and by the time he was opening the door he could feel the reason why.

The very cart was *alive*, taking a quick breath, Danny could practically taste the energy from it, there was a buzzing undercurrent of excitement that rung through the whole cart.

A little unprepared for his, Danny just smiled warily, "Uhh, hey there? Anyone around?" In response to his words the cart shuddered, the blinds dancing up and down and he could hear the squeel of the wheels.

"O-okay then, um my name is Danny Fenton...Clockwork sent me?" There was another flapingnof the blinds, and the small wooden flap that let people into the back lifted up suddenly before clacking down loudly.

Taking a steadying breath, Danny slipped through the bar and into the back.

It was surprisingly clean and orderly, the stove and fryer looked over than his parents but well maintained, the flat top was perfectly scrubbed and was already heating up.

As Danny looked around, he felt a familiar shiver run down his spine, looking around once more, Danny fell into a fighting position as he spotted the figure of a familiar foe

"Lunch Lady? Aren't you a little far from home? What did your order of fist not come in?" The bright rings of light around Danny's waist swirled into life as he went into his ghost form.

He got a thrilling grin from the older apparition, but she only crossed her arms, "While we can tumble later little King, Lord Clockwork sent me personally, said you need a bit of help learning how to cook? And ain't nobody better slinging food than me, dead or alive!"

---

Down in the dripping depths of the cave system deep under Gotham, one Bruce Wayne, still in his Batsuit sat in front of the Bat Computer, eyes glaring at a map of Gotham.

He had been tracking a strange energy pattern that made its way through Gotham, he had first thought it was some sort of layline, but the more that he tracked it the more he realized it was closer to watching a person's walking patterns, sometimes following roads, and sometimes crisscrossing through streets and alleyways.

But tonight that power signal tripled in size, off-putting energy that Bruce hadn't seen it done before, tapping the com on his ear, he spoke clearly "Nightwing, take Red Robin and investigate the coordinates I am sending the both of you, observe it, I just got a massive spike in an energy at that location."

There was silence for a moment before the com crackled and his sons responded "Got it B! Me and RR needed a little time together huh Babybird?"

There was a quiet hum from Tim, before the teen spoke "On route Batman, after this I am heading in, we have a meeting with a suspect in the morning B, Vlad Masters has been poking around Gotham."

[won4kiss]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE.

SYPNOSiS. you and park sunghoon were close friends until high school changed things. when your best friend began dating him, you realized your feelings for sunghoon ran deeper than friendship—a letter you wrote a long time ago makes its way to park sunghoon, what will happen when he asks you to fake date him? could you ignore your past feelings or will this go horribly wrong.. INSPIRED BY TATBILB.

୨୧ PAiRING. ex-bestfriend’s ex boyfriend! park sunghoon x fem! reader, jock! sunghoon x academic! reader.

୨୧ GENRE. highschool romance, fake dating, mostly fluff, very minimal angst. non!idol au. she fell first, he fell harder, happy ending!!

୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, kissing, karina being annoying ngl.. yn being indecisive, overthinking, not proofread.

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 10,456 / 10.4K

𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ i like me better, lauv, goodnight n go, ariana grande, boyfriend, ariana grande, new romantics, taylor swift, somebody to you, the vamps, fine line, harry styles, japanese denim, daniel caesar.

NOTE. thank u guys sm for all the support on the teaser!! i’m not too happy with this but i hope u guys enjoy reading this ^^ i literally love the movies sm so i HAD to write smt for tatbilb ☝️🤓 i strongly recommend reading the teaser before this!!

LiBRARY | © WON4KISS all rights reserved

IT’S JUST AN ORDINARY AFTERNOON, OR SO YOU THINK.

you’re in your room, organizing the clutter on your desk that’s been piling up for years—old notebooks, random receipts, ticket stubs from movies you don’t even remember watching.

a wave of nostalgia hits as you sift through bits and pieces of your past—buried beneath a pile of loose papers, you find it: the letter. that letter.

the one you wrote to park sunghoon all those years ago.

your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the crinkled envelope, your heart beating faster as memories rush back. you’d almost forgotten about it—almost.

with your hands trembling, you pick up the letter, reading the words scribbled across the front.

his name, written in your messy handwriting, brings back a flood of feelings you thought you’d buried for good.

this letter holds all the emotions you couldn’t say out loud. it’s a part of you—a vulnerable, painful part that you’ve kept locked away for years.

you’re tempted to rip it apart, to destroy it like you should have back then.

but before you can make a decision, your phone buzzes on the desk beside you.

a message notification from your younger sibling—who’s supposed to be helping with errands—pulls your attention away.

“hey, can you drop off the mail for me? i left a bunch of letters on the kitchen counter. thanks!”

you groan, glancing at the clock—you don’t really have the time to run errands right now, but you suppose it won’t take long.

tossing the letter back into the pile, you get up, grab the stack of letters from the kitchen, and head to the mailbox.

the evening air is cool, and you take a deep breath, trying to clear your head.

it’s just a letter, you remind yourself. it’s in the past—sunghoon is in the past. he and karina are in the past.

you drop the letters into the mailbox without a second thought.

it isn’t until much later—when you’re getting ready for bed—that the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

the letter—sunghoon’s letter.

panic floods your chest as you bolt upright, your heart pounding in your ears.

you scramble to your desk, frantically shuffling through the papers, looking for the envelope. but it’s not there. it’s gone.

you feel sick.

“no, no, no…” you whisper to yourself, your mind racing in denial.

you couldn’t have misplaced it could you?

you had placed it in the pile, the pile you just dropped into the mailbox. the letter—the one meant for no one—is on its way to park sunghoon.

the next morning, you’re a mess.

you hardly slept, your mind replaying every worst-case scenario over and over.

what’s going to happen when sunghoon reads the letter? will he think you’re some weirdo still pining after him? will he laugh at how pathetic you must seem?

you can’t stop the panic from rising, no matter how much you try to calm yourself down.

by the time you’re at school, you feel like a bundle of nerves, anxiety if it were a physical form.

you avoid everyone, keeping your head low as you rush to your first class, hoping to make it through the day unnoticed.

but fate doesn’t seem to care about your plans.

you’re at your locker, rifling through your books, when you feel someone approach you from behind.

the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. slowly, you turn around, and your stomach drops— park sunghoon is standing right there.

his tall figure leans casually against the lockers, his eyes locked on yours, unreadable.

you’ve seen that cool, calm expression a million times before, but now it makes your palms sweat.

“hey,” he says, his voice smooth and silky, just like always.

you blink, trying to keep your expression neutral. “oh…hey, sunghoon.”

he’s quiet for a moment, and the tension in the air thickens—you can tell he’s holding something back.

finally, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the letter. your letter.

“so—uh..i got this in the mail yesterday.”

your blood runs cold as your eyes lock onto the familiar envelope in his hand. the world feels like it’s tilting, and all you can think is, this isn’t happening. this can’t be happening.

“i wasn’t expecting something like this,” he says, raising an eyebrow, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “you wanna explain?”

you open your mouth, but no words come out.

what are you even supposed to say? that it was a mistake? that you didn’t mean to send it? that the feelings you wrote about years ago were just a phase, long since forgotten?

sunghoon waits, watching you with that calm, intense gaze that makes your pulse race.

he’s not giving anything away, not yet. you can’t tell if he’s mad or confused or if he’s just messing with you.

but you know one thing: he’s not letting this go.

finally, you manage to speak. “i… i didn’t mean for you to see that.”

sunghoon tilts his head, looking intrigued. “no?”

“no,” you say quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. “it was a long time ago. i wrote it…a while back. i never meant to send it.”

there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe?—but he doesn’t let it show for long. “so…you don’t feel this way anymore?”

you freeze.

how do you even answer that? the truth is…complicated—you hadn’t thought about those feelings for a long time, at least not consciously.

you thought you were over it—over him. but now, standing here with him holding your deepest secrets in his hands, all those old emotions are bubbling up to the surface, making you second-guess everything.

“i…” you start, but the words stick in your throat.

sunghoon watches you closely, his gaze sharp and focused. it’s the same look he used to give you when you were younger, the look that said he could see right through you.

he always knew when something was bothering you. he always knew you.

“you don’t have to answer right now,” he says, his voice softer than before. “but…we need to talk about this. you can’t just drop something like this on me and expect me to ignore it.”

you nod, feeling your stomach churn—you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you stay silent, hoping the ground will open up and swallow you whole.

but sunghoon doesn’t move. he just keeps standing there, holding the letter between his fingers, as if waiting for something.

then, as if sensing your discomfort, he sighs and folds the letter, tucking it back into his jacket.

“look, y/n,” he says, his tone more relaxed now, “i’m not mad or anything. it’s just…unexpected.”

you nod again, your throat dry.

sunghoon pushes off the lockers, taking a step closer, his presence is overwhelming, making your heart race.

“we’ll figure this out,” he says, his voice low and steady. “but for now, let’s just…talk later. after school?”

you swallow hard, nodding once more. “yeah. after school.”

he gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning and walking down the hallway, leaving you standing there, dazed and overwhelmed.

your mind is spinning, replaying everything that just happened, and all you can think is: what now?

the day feels like a blur after your confrontation with sunghoon.

every class drags on as your mind races through every possible outcome of that letter being in his hands.

when you get called on during your calculus class, you barely manage a coherent answer, your usual sharpness dulled by the storm in your head.

normally, being the top student in your class—the one everyone goes to for homework help or notes—gives you some confidence.

but right now, nothing seems to calm your nerves—not even acing the quiz that’s handed back to you.

all you can think about is what sunghoon wants to “talk about” after school.

you’re already dreading it when the final bell rings.

as you head toward the meeting spot—outside the gym, where you know sunghoon will be after practice—you can’t stop the tight knot forming in your stomach.

the hallway buzzes with activity, people passing by in crowds—athletes are huddled in groups, chatting loudly about the upcoming game, and among them is sunghoon—blending in perfectly.

he’s talking to his friends, tall and confident in his varsity jacket, his hair slightly messy from practice.

the sight of him makes your chest tighten—he’s the type of guy who seems to have it all: popularity, athletic skill, and that natural charm that draws people in.

you, on the other hand, are the complete opposite—known for your academics rather than your social life.

the two of you haven’t even spoken in years, not since that rift grew between you after his breakup with karina.

and now, you’re about to dive into a conversation that could make things a hundred times more awkward.

you stand a few feet away, hesitating, until sunghoon notices you.

he gives you a small, almost secret smile, and breaks away from his group, leaving his teammates behind.

“hey,” he says casually, as if the two of you talk every day.

you manage a shaky smile. “hey.”

sunghoon gestures for you to follow him around the corner, where it’s quieter, away from the lingering crowd.

the tension between you is thick, and the air feels charged with unspoken things.

you hug your books closer to your chest, trying to find the right words, but it’s sunghoon who speaks first.

“i thought about what you said earlier,” he starts, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

his expression is serious, but not in an intimidating way—more like he’s trying to work through something in his head.

“and i get that the letter was from a long time ago, but…i think there’s something we could both get out of this.”

your brows knit in confusion. “what do you mean?” sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“look, ever since the breakup with karina, i’ve been getting a lot of…questions. people keep assuming things, especially with you being involved, since you were friends with her. it’s getting annoying.”

you frown, not liking where this is going. “what kind of things?”

he shrugs, but his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. “people think you’re the reason we broke up.”

your heart skips a beat. “what—me?”

“yeah,” he says, his tone casual, but you can see the weight behind his words. “there’s this rumor that i broke up with her because of you. that we had this…thing going on behind her back.”

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “that’s ridiculous. i barely even talked to you after you guys got together.”

“i know,” he says, his eyes softening. “but you know how high school is. people talk.”

you groan, rubbing your temple. this is exactly the kind of drama you’ve always tried to avoid, keeping your head down and focusing on school.

“so…what does this have to do with the letter?”

sunghoon straightens up, his gaze sharp. “i think we can use this to our advantage.”

“use…what?” you ask, your voice wary.

he gestures between the two of you. “the rumors. the letter. look, if people already think there was something between us, then why not just lean into it? we could pretend to date for a while. it’d shut people up, and i wouldn’t have to keep explaining myself to every person who asks about karina. and maybe it’ll get people off your back too.”

you blink at him, processing his words. “you want to pretend to date? like…fake dating?”

he nods like an excited puppy, as if it’s the most logical solution in the world. “exactly. it’d be easier for both of us. we’d keep it simple—just enough to make people believe it.”

your mind reels at the suggestion—you’ve seen this happen in movies, read about it in books, but this is real life.

and the idea of pretending to date sunghoon feels…absurd. sure, it might get people to stop talking about karina and his breakup, but what about you?

you’ve spent years keeping your feelings buried, and now he wants to parade around as if you’re together? that sounds like a recipe for disaster.

“sunghoon,” you start, your voice cautious, “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?” he asks, looking genuinely confused.

“because it’s…weird,” you say, struggling to find the right words. “we haven’t even been friends for years. what makes you think anyone would believe we’re suddenly dating?”

he smirks, leaning in slightly. “because we used to be close. people know that. it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch.”

you bite your lip, still unconvinced. “but…what’s the point? i mean, won’t it just make things worse when people find out it’s fake?”

he shrugs again, that easygoing confidence still radiating from him. “maybe. but by then, it won’t matter. they’ll have moved on to the next piece of gossip. besides, it’s not like we’d have to keep it up forever. just long enough for things to blow over.”

you hesitate, your mind spinning with possibilities.

on one hand, the thought of faking a relationship with sunghoon makes your stomach churn with anxiety.

but on the other hand…it could solve a lot of problems—maybe it would keep people from asking about karina.

maybe it would give you a chance to finally move past all the old feelings that have been resurfacing ever since the letter.

but it’s risky. too risky.

“i don’t know,” you say, your voice uncertain.

sunghoon watches you for a moment, then steps closer, lowering his voice.

“look, i know it’s a lot to ask, but think about it. this could be good for both of us. you wouldn’t have to keep dodging questions about karina, and i wouldn’t have to deal with everyone assuming things about us. plus,” he adds with a slight smirk, “it might even be fun.”

you give him a skeptical look as you scoff in disbelief. “fun?”

he grins, that playful glint in his eyes you remember so well from years ago.

“yeah. i mean, we used to be friends, right? it’s not like we don’t know how to get along. we can make it believable.”

there’s something in the way he’s looking at you, that spark of the old sunghoon—the boy who used to make you laugh, who used to confide in you late at night during sleepovers, before everything got complicated.

for a moment, you’re reminded of how easy things used to be between you two. how natural it felt.

maybe…just maybe, this could work.

you take a deep breath, weighing your options—it’s crazy. it’s beyond risky, but it might be the only way to fix this mess.

and if it’s just pretending, then what’s the harm? you’ll just have to keep your real feelings locked away—like you always have.

“okay,” you say finally, your voice steady. “let’s do it.”

sunghoon’s smile widens, and for a brief moment, you feel like you’ve made the right choice. he holds out his hand. “deal?”

you hesitate for just a second before shaking his hand. “deal.”

the next few days pass in a whirlwind of rumors, whispers, and carefully orchestrated moments.

word spreads fast that you and sunghoon are dating, and the school is buzzing with curiosity.

everyone seems to have their eyes on you—especially since you’re not exactly part of his social circle.

the jock and the ‘nerd’, the golden boy and the brainiac—it’s a combination that no one saw coming.

but you and sunghoon play the part well, you walk together in the hallways, sit next to each other during lunch, and even hang out after school for the occasional “study session.” to everyone else, it looks like the real deal.

you’re careful to keep things light and casual, just like sunghoon said.

no hand-holding or public displays of affection—just enough closeness to make it believable.

but as the days go by, you start to notice little things—the way sunghoon looks at you sometimes, his eyes lingering a bit too long.

the way he laughs at your jokes, even the ones that aren’t particularly funny. and the way your heart skips a beat whenever he smiles at you.

it’s all pretend, of course. it has to be—but sometimes…it feels too real.

as the days turn into weeks, the fake dating plan takes on a life of its own.

you and sunghoon settle into a routine of sorts—walking to class together, sharing lunch, and spending time after school.

it’s strange at first, pretending to be something you’re not, but soon it becomes almost second nature.

you’re surprised at how easy it is to fall into this rhythm with him, despite everything that’s happened between you, there’s a familiarity that lingers, reminding you of how things used to be when you were best friends.

sometimes, when you’re alone with him, it almost feels like no time has passed at all.

but that’s the problem, isn’t it? it’s too easy. too comfortable. and that’s when the lines start to blur.

it starts with the small things. like how he goes out of his way to find you in the mornings before school.

at first, it’s just part of the plan—he says you need to be seen together—but then it becomes something more.

his texts in the evenings aren’t just about “keeping up appearances” anymore; they’re full of little comments about your day, things that make you smile when you’re lying in bed at night, staring at your phone.

and then there are the moments when he touches you.

it’s never anything big or obvious—just his hand brushing against yours as you walk, or his arm slung casually around your shoulder when you’re sitting together during lunch.

each touch sends sparks through your skin, leaving you wondering if he feels it too.

but the biggest change comes one afternoon after school.

you’re sitting in the library, books spread out in front of you as you try to focus on an upcoming exam.

you’ve always been good at studying—quiet places like this are your sanctuary—but today, your mind is elsewhere.

you’re thinking about sunghoon, about the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you, and how it’s making it harder to remember that this is all just pretend.

the sound of footsteps approaching snaps you out of your thoughts.

you glance up to see sunghoon walking toward you, that familiar soft smile on his face.

“hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you.

you raise an eyebrow. “you do realize this is the library, right? i thought jocks weren’t allowed in here.”

he chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “i’m full of surprises. besides, i thought you might need a break.”

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face. “i’m studying, hoon. you know, that thing people do when they want to pass their classes?”

he shrugs, clearly unconcerned. “yeah, but you’re already the smartest person in school. you can afford to take a break.”

you sigh, closing your book. “i can’t believe i’m saying this, but fine. what do you want?”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. there’s something different in his eyes today—something softer.

“i was thinking we should go to the movies this weekend.”

you blink in surprise. “the movies?”

“yeah. you know, that place where people go to sit in the dark and pretend they’re not awkwardly sitting next to strangers?”

you narrow your eyes at him in suspicion. “why?”

he shrugs again, but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “why not? we’re supposed to be dating, right? might as well go on an actual date.”

you hesitate, your heart racing. “sunghoon, this was supposed to be lowkey. we agreed we wouldn’t do anything that would make it seem… too real.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just a movie. we’re not getting married or anything.”

you bite your lip, feeling a strange feeling of excitement and anxiety building in your chest.

the idea of going on a date with sunghoon—even a fake one—makes your stomach do flips.

but you remind yourself that this is all part of the plan. it’s not real. it can’t be.

“okay,” you say finally. “but don’t expect me to share my popcorn.”

he grins, his smile lighting up his face. “deal.”

the weekend comes faster than you expected, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of the movie theater, feeling more nervous than you’ve felt in a long time.

you can’t figure out why—this is just a fake date, after all.

but there’s something about the way sunghoon looks when he arrives, wearing a casual jacket and that effortless smile, that makes your heart skip a beat.

“you ready?” he asks, his eyes glinting with amusement.

you nod, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. “yeah. let’s get this over with.”

sunghoon laughs and leads you inside, where you buy tickets and snacks.

you’re still trying to act nonchalant when you sit down in the theater, but the darkness and the closeness between you make it harder to ignore the way your body reacts to his presence.

his arm brushes against yours as he settles into his seat, and you can feel the heat radiating from him.

the movie starts, but you barely pay attention.

your mind is too busy racing through thoughts of sunghoon—how close he is, how easy it would be to just lean into him—your heart pounds in your chest, and you silently curse yourself for letting things get this far.

and then, halfway through the movie, it happens.

sunghoon shifts in his seat, and without thinking, his hand finds yours in the darkness.

his fingers curl around yours, gentle and warm, and for a moment, you freeze—your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

you glance at him, but his eyes are focused on the screen, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

as if holding your hand wasn’t something that would send your mind spiraling.

you tell yourself to pull away, to remind him that this is fake—that this can’t mean anything—but you don’t.

you let your hand stay in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, and for the rest of the movie, you don’t move.

the walk home is quieter than usual, you and sunghoon walk side by side, but there’s a new kind of tension between you.

neither of you mention the hand-holding, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re both trying to pretend it didn’t happen, or if you’re both too afraid to bring it up.

when you reach your house, you stop at the front door, turning to face him. “thanks for the movie,” you say, your voice soft.

sunghoon smiles, but there’s something different in his eyes—something you can’t quite read. “anytime.”

for a moment, you just stand there, unsure of what to do next—there’s a beat of silence, and then, before you can stop yourself, you speak.

“sunghoon…this is all still pretend, right?”

he looks at you, his expression unreadable. “of course.”

you nod, forcing a smile. “good. just wanted to make sure.”

but as you turn to go inside, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed. something you might not be able to control.

the next week is filled with more of the same tension.

every time you and sunghoon are together, it feels like the air is charged with something you can’t quite define.

the lines between what’s real and what’s fake are starting to blur, and you can’t stop thinking about the way his hand felt in yours.

you know you shouldn’t be thinking like this.

this was all supposed to be an act—a way to get people off your backs—but now, with every passing day, it’s becoming harder to keep up the facade.

you’re starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something more going on here, maybe he feels the same way.

and then, one afternoon after school, everything changes.

you’re at your locker, packing up your things, when you hear footsteps approaching.

you glance up to see karina standing a few feet away, her arms crossed and her eyes fixed on you.

your heart sinks.

it’s the first time you’ve seen her in months, and the look on her face is anything but friendly.

“we need to talk,” she says, her voice cold.

you swallow hard, nodding slowly. “okay.”

karina steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “what the hell is going on between you and sunghoon?”

you freeze, your mind racing—you’ve been so caught up in your fake relationship that you haven’t even thought about how this might look to karina.

she’s your ex-best friend, after all—and sunghoon is her ex.

“i…i don’t know what you mean,” you stammer, but karina isn’t buying it.

“don’t play dumb,” she snaps. “i know something’s going on. you’re always together now. you’re even going on dates.”

you open your mouth to deny it, to explain that it’s all just pretend, but the words die in your throat.

how are you supposed to explain something like this? that you’re fake dating her ex to get people to stop talking about the breakup? that it’s all just a lie?

but before you can say anything, karina cuts you off.

“just…tell me the truth,” she says, her voice softer now. “are you in love with him?”

the question hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

the answer should be simple—no, it’s all fake. but as you stand there, looking into karina’s eyes, you realize that you don’t know the answer anymore.

and that terrifies you.

karina’s question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating, the hallway suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in around you.

your mind races, trying to figure out how to respond.

you’ve spent so long convincing yourself—and everyone else—that this relationship with sunghoon is fake, but now you’re not so sure.

you’re not in love with him… right? you can’t be. this is just pretend. it has to be.

but when you look at karina, her eyes full of hurt and suspicion, something twists in your chest.

you didn’t want to hurt her—yes, it was her who cut you off, but you still cared for her deeply.

you didn’t want to make things complicated, but now, everything feels like it’s spinning out of control.

“i…” your voice cracks, and you bite your lip, struggling to find the words. “karina, it’s not like that.”

she narrows her eyes, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “then what is it like? because from where i’m standing, it looks like you’ve been sneaking around with sunghoon behind my back.”

you shake your head quickly. “no, no. it’s not like that at all. we’re not—” you stop, realizing that you can’t just blurt out the truth.

that it’s all fake. it would make everything worse, wouldn’t it? how could karina understand that this whole thing started as a way to avoid drama? you know you need to tread carefully.

“we’re not sneaking around,” you say finally, choosing your words carefully. “it just kind of…happened. but it’s not what you think.”

karina’s expression softens for a moment, and she looks at you with a mix of confusion and hurt.

“then what is it? were you planning this while we were friends? i thought we were friends back then. best friends.”

you flinch at her words, the guilt hitting you hard—there was a time when you and karina were inseparable, when she was the one you confided in about everything—except your feelings for sunghoon.

and that’s what ruined everything, isn’t it? you never told her how you felt about him. you kept it buried, hoping it would disappear, but it didn’t.

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” you say quietly. “i never meant for any of this to happen. after you and sunghoon broke up, i thought… i thought it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

karina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

“well, it does matter. and now i’m stuck watching my ex-boyfriend and my ex-best friend play house together like none of it ever meant anything.”

her words sting, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

part of you wants to explain everything—to tell her that this was all just fake, that none of it is real.

but there’s another part of you, a part that’s starting to realize that maybe, there’s more truth to this fake relationship than you want to admit.

before you can say anything else, karina steps back, her face hardening. “just…do me a favor, okay? be honest with yourself. if you’re in love with him, own it. don’t pretend it’s all some game. because it’s not.”

with that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

you spend the rest of the day in a daze, karina’s words echoing in your mind.

be honest with yourself—how are you supposed to do that when you don’t even know what’s real anymore?

sunghoon hasn’t said anything about the way things have been between you lately, but you can feel it—the shift.

the way he looks at you differently, the way his touches linger just a little too long, the way he seems to genuinely care about what’s going on in your life.

it’s more than just pretending now—at least for you.

but the big question for you is: does he feel the same way? or is this all in your head?

later that evening, you’re sitting in your room, staring blankly at your textbooks, when your phone buzzes on the desk—it’s a message from sunghoon.

“wanna grab ice cream? need a break from all this studying.”

you hesitate, staring at the screen, the last thing you want is to spend time with him right now, not when everything feels so confusing.

but part of you knows that avoiding him won’t solve anything—if anything, you need to confront this head-on.

you need to figure out what’s going on between you, whether it’s real or not.

“sure,” you text back, your heart thudding in your chest.

the ice cream parlor is quiet when you arrive, the soft buzzing of the freezer and the scent of sugar filling the air.

sunghoon is already there, sitting at a booth in the corner with two cones in front of him.

he grins when he sees you, waving you over.

“i got your favorite,” he says, pushing a cone of double scooped strawberry ice-cream towards you.

you smile, sliding into the booth across from him. “thanks.”

for a moment, everything feels normal again. the two of you sit there, eating ice cream and talking about nothing in particular—school, classes, his upcoming game.

it’s easy, comfortable, just like it used to be—but underneath the surface, there’s something simmering, something that’s been building for weeks.

you decide to break the silence, you couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer.

“sunghoon,” you say, setting your cone down. “we need to talk.”

he raises an eyebrow, but there’s no surprise in his eyes. it’s like he’s been expecting this.

“about what?” he asks, though you can tell he already knows what you’re going to say.

you take a deep breath, your fingers fiddling with the napkin in front of you. “about… us.”

sunghoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

his expression is unreadable, but there’s a stiffness in his posture that wasn’t there before.

“what about us?” he asks, his voice quiet.

you hesitate, trying to find the right words. “this whole fake dating thing… it’s starting to feel like more than just a game.”

his eyes flicker with something—surprise? amusement? you can’t tell.

“go on,” he says, his voice softer now.

you bite your lip, the words catching in your throat. “i guess what i’m trying to say is… i don’t know if i can keep pretending. it’s getting harder to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

there. you’ve said it. you’ve put everything out in the open, and now all you can do is wait for his response.

for a moment, sunghoon is silent, his eyes locked on yours—the tension between you is almost unbearable, the air thick with unspoken words.

finally, he lets out a soft sigh, leaning forward.

“i’ve been thinking the same thing,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you think you’ve misheard him. “you have?”

he nods, his eyes searching yours. “yeah. at first, this was just supposed to be for show, but… i don’t know. it doesn’t feel fake anymore. not to me, at least.”

your breath catches in your throat. “so… what does that mean?”

sunghoon reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. his touch is warm, steady, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“i think it means that maybe we should stop pretending,” he says softly. “and figure out what this really is.”

you stare at him, your mind racing. is this really happening? is sunghoon—your fake boyfriend, your old best friend, karina’s ex—actually saying that he wants something real?

“are you sure?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiles, that familiar playful glint in his eyes. “yeah, pretty. i’m sure.”

the rest of the evening passes in a blur.—you and sunghoon talk—really talk—for the first time in weeks, peeling back the layers of your fake relationship and exposing the real feelings that have been hiding underneath.

it feels strange, scary even, to admit that you’ve both developed feelings for each other. but it also feels…right.

when he walks you home later that night, the air between you is light, free of the tension that’s been building for so long.

as you stand on your front porch, there’s a moment of hesitation—an awkward pause where neither of you knows what to do next.

but then, without saying a word, sunghoon steps closer, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft glint in his eyes.

your breath hitches, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers linger against your skin.

and then, before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his.

the kiss is soft, hesitant at first, but it quickly deepens, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer.

it’s like everything you’ve been holding back—the tension, the uncertainty, the feelings you’ve been too afraid to admit—finally breaks free.

when you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“that didn’t feel fake,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

you laugh softly, your hands still resting against his chest. “no. it didn’t.”

the next morning, you wake up with a strange sense of peace.

for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel like you’re pretending—you don’t have to put on a show anymore, don’t have to act like your feelings for sunghoon are anything less than real.

but as you get ready for school, there’s still a small voice in the back of your mind—a nagging worry about what happens next.

how will people react when they find out that your “fake” relationship has turned real? and more importantly…how will karina take it?

you push those thoughts aside as you walk into school, determined not to let anything ruin the fragile happiness you’ve found with sunghoon.

but as soon as you step into the hallway, you realize that avoiding the truth isn’t going to be that easy.

because standing by your locker, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, is karina yet again.

the moment you see karina standing at your locker, your heart drops.

her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowed in a way that tells you she knows.

she knows that whatever you had with sunghoon, fake or not, is no longer just a game.

there’s no avoiding this confrontation now—you’ve already crossed the line, and karina is here to make you deal with the fallout.

you brace yourself for what’s to come, walking toward her with your head held high.

inside, though, your stomach twists into knots—you’ve always hated confrontation, and this one feels worse than any argument you’ve ever had before.

“hi,” you say cautiously when you reach her, trying to sound calm.

but karina’s face is unreadable, her eyes cold as they lock onto yours.

“so are you two serious now?” she asks, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.

you flinch, feeling the weight of her words hit you—you expected her to be angry, maybe even furious, but this—this quiet, detached version of karina—is worse.

it’s like she’s shutting down, not giving you a chance to explain or apologize.

you take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “karina, i didn’t plan for any of this to happen. it just—”

“it just what?” she cuts you off, her voice rising slightly. “it just happened? you didn’t plan on falling for him, but you did anyway?”

you bite your lip, unsure of what to say—she’s right. you didn’t plan for any of this, but that doesn’t make it any less painful for her.

and it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty.

“i really didn’t want to hurt you,” you say softly, but the words feel empty, even to you.

karina lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.“you know, for a long time, i thought we could go back to how things used to be. that we could just…move past everything. but i guess i was wrong.”

she looks at you, her eyes filled with disappointment. “i thought you were my best friend. but you’ve been hiding this the whole time, you didn’t even have the decency to tell me that you saw him that way.”

your heart clenches painfully in your chest. “karina, i wasn’t lying. i didn’t know—”

“didn’t know what?” she snaps. “that you had feelings for sunghoon? that you were using him to make me jealous? or did you just not care about how i’d feel once you finally admitted the truth?”

tears sting the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to break down here, in the middle of the hallway.

“please—it wasn’t like that, i swear.”

karina stares at you for a long moment, her expression softening slightly. “maybe it wasn’t. but it doesn’t matter anymore. you made your choice.”

with that, she turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, a hollow ache settling in your chest.

you want to run after her, to fix things, but you know deep down that this isn’t something that can be fixed with an apology.

you’ve lost her for good now—your best friend—and you don’t know if you’ll ever get her back.

later that day, you’re sitting with sunghoon at lunch, but the usual lightness between you is gone.

you’re distracted, your mind still replaying the conversation with karina over and over—you can’t stop thinking about what she said, about how badly you’ve hurt her.

sunghoon notices. he always does.

“you okay?” he asks, leaning closer to you, his voice low and concerned.

you nod, but it’s a lie. “yeah, i’m fine.”

he doesn’t believe you, of course. “come on, don’t lie to me. i can tell something’s bothering you.”

you let out a sigh, pushing your food around on your tray without eating. “i talked to karina this morning. she’s…not okay with us. with what’s happening.”

sunghoon frowns, his expression turning serious. “what did she say?”

you shake your head, trying to brush it off. “she’s just…hurt. i don’t blame her. i’d feel the same way if i were in her shoes.”

sunghoon is quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place.

“so what does that mean? do you want to stop? end this?”

the question takes you by surprise, and for a moment, you don’t know how to answer.

do you want to stop? would that make things better with karina? or would it just make everything worse?

“i don’t know,” you admit, your voice small. “i just don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

sunghoon’s jaw tightens, and you can see the tension building in his posture.

he’s frustrated, but he’s holding it back—for now. “so you want to throw everything away because karina’s upset? what about us?”

the words hang in the air, and you feel a lump form in your throat—he’s right. it’s not just about karina anymore.

it’s about you and him—and whatever this thing between you has become.

but how do you choose between someone you loved as a friend and someone you might be falling for?

“i don’t want to throw anything away,” you say quietly. “but i don’t know how to fix this.”

sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “look, i get that karina’s your friend, or at least she was, but we can’t keep pretending like we owe her something. we didn’t do anything wrong. she broke up with me, not the other way around.”

his words make sense, but they don’t take away the guilt gnawing at you. “i know, but—”

“but what?” he snaps, cutting you off. “are you going to let her decide how we live our lives? is that what this is about?”

you flinch at his tone, the sudden harshness in his voice catching you off guard. “no, of course not. i just…i didn’t think things would get this complicated.”

sunghoon lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “well, guess what? things are complicated. that’s life. but you can’t just run away every time something gets difficult.”

his words sting, and you feel a surge of defensiveness rise in your chest.

“i’m not running away,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended. “i’m just trying to figure out how to do the right thing.”

“and what’s the right thing, huh?” sunghoon challenges, his eyes flashing with frustration.

“because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’re more worried about what karina thinks than what we have.”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat.

you don’t know how to explain it—how torn you feel between your loyalty to karina and your growing feelings for sunghoon.

it feels like no matter what you do, someone is going to get hurt.

“maybe we rushed into this,” you say softly, the words barely audible.

sunghoon’s expression hardens. “so what are you saying? you want to call it quits? pretend like none of this ever happened?”

you bite your lip, hating the way his words cut into you. “i don’t know, sunghoon. i just need time to think.”

there’s a long pause, and you can feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you. finally, he stands up, grabbing his bag from the floor.

“take all the time you need,” he says coldly. “but don’t expect me to wait around forever.”

and with that, he walks away, leaving you sitting there alone, the ache in your chest growing deeper by the second.

the next few days are torture—sunghoon barely speaks to you, and when he does, it’s short and distant, like he’s putting up a wall between you.

it’s painful, watching the person you’ve grown so close to suddenly shut you out.

and as much as you want to talk to him, to apologize, you’re not sure if you even know how to fix things.

karina’s words still haunt you, and the guilt you feel for hurting her hasn’t gone away.

but now, there’s something else—something worse. the fear that you’ve lost sunghoon, too.

it’s late one evening, after another day of tense silences and awkward interactions, that you decide you can’t take it anymore.

you grab your phone, your fingers hovering over sunghoon’s contact—for a moment, you hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest.

what if he doesn’t want to talk? what if he’s already decided that it’s over?

but you can’t keep avoiding this, you need to confront it head-on, like he said.

taking a deep breath, you type out a message.

“can we talk? please.”

you don’t expect him to respond right away, but to your surprise, your phone buzzes just a few seconds later.

“meet me at the park.”

your heart races as you grab your jacket and head out, the cool night air biting at your skin as you walk to the park where you and sunghoon used to hang out.

it’s quiet when you arrive, the dim streetlights casting long shadows across the grass.

and there, sitting on a bench near the playground, is sunghoon.

he looks up when he sees you, his expression unreadable. you walk over slowly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“hey,” you say softly, sitting down next to him.

“hey,” he replies, his voice flat.

for a moment, neither of you says anything—the silence stretches between you, heavy with everything that’s been left unsaid. finally, you break the tension.

“i’m really sorry, hoon,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

sunghoon lets out a sigh, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“it’s not about hurting me. it’s about whether or not you actually want this with me.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening. “i do. i really do.”

he looks at you then, his eyes searching yours for something—truth, maybe. “then what’s the problem? why are you so afraid of just…being with me?”

you bite your lip, struggling to put your feelings into words. “it’s not that i don’t want to be with you. it’s just…everything with karina, and the rumors, and—”

“forget the rumors,” he says firmly, cutting you off. “forget karina for a second. this is about you and me. no one else. so what do you want?”

the question hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

what do you want? the answer is so simple, yet so terrifying at the same time.

“i want you,” you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

sunghoon’s eyes soften, and for the first time in days, his expression relaxes.

he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. “then have me—stop pushing me away.”

tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you nod, squeezing his hand tightly.

“i’m sorry. i won’t do it again. i promise.”

he gives you a small, reassuring smile. “we’ll figure this out. together.”

and just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on you for days lifts, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

things aren’t perfect, and you still have a lot to work through, but for the first time, you feel like you’re on the same page.

like maybe, this thing between you is real—and worth fighting for.

in the days that follow, things between you and sunghoon slowly begin to settle back into place, but there’s still a lingering sense of tension, like the calm before a storm.

you’re relieved that the two of you have talked things through, but the issues with karina—and your own guilt—haven’t magically disappeared.

you and sunghoon are careful around each other, more hesitant than before.

there’s still that spark, that undeniable chemistry, but the shadow of karina’s disappointment and the strain from the confrontation hang over everything.

and although sunghoon seems more open, there’s a subtle distance between you—like he’s holding something back, unsure if you’re really committed this time—protecting himself from a possible heartbreak.

it’s not until the night of the big game that things come to a head.

sunghoon has been talking about this game for weeks.

it’s the biggest one of the season, and the entire school is buzzing with excitement—you’ve never been much for sports, but you know how important it is to him, and even though part of you is still unsure about everything that’s happened, you want to be there for him.

you arrive at the stadium just as the game is about to start, the stands packed with students, teachers, and parents.

the energy in the air is buzzing with excitement, and you feel your nerves start to buzz as you scan the field for sunghoon.

he’s already out there, warming up with his team, looking confident and focused, like the whole world revolves around him in that moment.

a part of you can’t help but admire him.

he’s always been effortlessly good at everything—popular, athletic, the guy everyone wants to be.

and yet, despite that, he’s always been more than just the “jock” to you, he’s sunghoon—your friend, your fake boyfriend, and now…something more. something real.

but as you sit down in the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling in your chest.

you haven’t spoken to karina since that day in the hallway, and the thought of her finding out about you and sunghoon—about how things between you have changed—makes your stomach churn.

you’re still deep in thought when the game starts, the crowd erupting into cheers as the teams take the field.

you try to focus, but your mind keeps wandering back to karina, back to the conversation you had with her, and back to the guilt that’s been gnawing at you ever since.

the game is intense, and sunghoon is in his element, moving across the field with a kind of grace and power that’s impossible to ignore.

every time he scores, the crowd erupts in cheers, and you find yourself clapping along with everyone else, despite the turmoil in your heart.

but then, with just a few minutes left in the game, something happens.

one of the opposing players slams into sunghoon hard, sending him crashing to the ground.

the crowd gasps, and your heart leaps into your throat as you watch him lie there, unmoving.

for a moment, everything around you goes silent, and all you can focus on is sunghoon, lying on the field in pain.

you don’t even realize you’ve stood up until someone grabs your arm, pulling you back down.

“he’s fine,” a voice says from beside you. “he’ll get up.”

but you can’t relax—your mind races with fear and worry as you watch the coach and the team trainer rush out to help him.

sunghoon slowly sits up, wincing as he moves, and you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. he’s hurt, but he’s okay.

still, watching him in pain stirs something inside you—something more than just concern for ‘a crush’.

it’s the realization that you care about him more deeply than you’ve allowed yourself to admit.

you’ve been holding back, too scared to fully commit, but now, seeing him like this, you know that you don’t want to lose him—not over karina, not over anything.

after the game, you wait for sunghoon outside the locker rooms, pacing nervously.

you’re still shaken from watching him get hurt, but there’s something else weighing on you now—something more urgent.

when sunghoon finally emerges from the locker room, he looks tired and a little worse for wear, but when he sees you standing there, a smile breaks across his face.

“hey,” he says, walking over to you with a slight limp. “you waited.”

“of course i did,” you say, trying to smile, but the worry in your voice betrays you. “are you okay?”

he shrugs, trying to play it off. “i’ll be fine. just a bad hit.”

you bite your lip, your eyes searching his face. “sunghoon… i’ve been thinking.”

he raises an eyebrow, looking slightly confused. “about what?”

“about us. about…everything.” you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “i know i’ve been all over the place lately, and i know i’ve hurt you by not being clear about what i want. but i’ve realized something tonight.”

sunghoon watches you closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “and what’s that?”

you step closer to him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“i don’t want to keep pretending that this doesn’t matter—you matter to me, sunghoon. i always have—more than i’ve let myself admit. and i know things are complicated with karina, and the rumors, and everything else, but… i want to be with you. for real.”

there’s a long pause, and for a moment, you’re terrified that you’ve said too much, that maybe you’ve pushed him away for good this time.

but then, slowly, a smile spreads across sunghoon’s face.

“you mean that?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod, your eyes locked on his. “yeah. i do.”

sunghoon lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you know, i’ve been waiting for you to say that for weeks now.”

before you can respond, he steps forward, pulling you into his arms—his hands are warm against your back, and you can feel his heart beating against your chest as he holds you tightly, like he’s afraid to let go.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs into your hair. “not unless you want me to.”

you close your eyes, burying your face in his shoulder as relief washes over you. “i don’t want you to.”

the next day, you wake up feeling lighter than a feather, light— the same lightness you’d feel after binge watching all the harry potter movies with sunghoon back in the day, the same lightness after you two swore to stay best friends forever—the same lightness you felt as sunghoon and you went back-to-school shopping together for the first day of highschool—the lightness of sitting in the ice-cream booth together—like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

for the first time in weeks, you’re not filled with anxiety or doubt.

you’ve made your decision, and now you’re ready to move forward—with sunghoon, with whatever this relationship might bring.

but that doesn’t mean everything is resolved.

later that afternoon, you receive a text from karina.

“we need to talk.”

your stomach tightens as you read the message—you knew this conversation was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

you’ve been dreading it, but at the same time, you know it’s necessary.

you can’t keep avoiding her, and you can’t keep pretending like everything is fine.

you meet karina at a quiet café on the edge of town, your heart pounding as you walk through the door.

she’s already there, sitting at a table near the window, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.

when she sees you, she gives you a small nod, but there’s no warmth in her eyes.

you sit down across from her, your nerves jangling. “hey.”

“hey,” she replies, her voice unreadable.

for a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you heavy and uncomfortable.

you can tell that karina is still hurt, and you don’t blame her.

you’ve been avoiding her, too afraid to face the truth of what’s happened between you.

finally, karina breaks the silence.

“i saw you and sunghoon together last night. after the game.”

your heart skips a beat. “karina, i—”

“i’m not mad,” she interrupts, surprising you. “at least, not anymore. i’ve had time to think about it, and i’ve realized that… i can’t control what happens between you and him. it sucks, and it hurts, but i can’t keep holding onto something that’s already gone.”

you blink, taken aback by her honesty. “you’re not mad?”

she sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly. “i mean, yeah, it hurts seeing you two together, but… i can’t keep being angry. it’s not fair to either of us.”

you stare at her, unsure of what to say—you’ve been bracing yourself for an argument, for karina to lash out at you, but instead, she’s…letting go. she’s accepting it.

“i’m sorry,” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion. “i really never wanted to hurt you.”

karina gives you a small, sad smile. “i know. and i believe you.”

for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of relief.

maybe things between you and karina will never go back to how they were, but at least you’re not leaving things unresolved—at least now, there’s a chance to heal.

the days that follow feel like a fresh start.

you and sunghoon grow closer, your relationship deepening as you finally let go of the doubts and fears that have been holding you back.

there are no more rumors, no more pretending. it’s just the two of you, and for the first time, that’s enough.

you still see karina from time to time, and though things are awkward at first, there’s a sense of understanding between you now.

she’s moving on, too, in her own way, and while your friendship may never be the same, you two are still trying your best to make the most out of it—to forgive and heal together.

one afternoon, as you and sunghoon sit together on the bleachers, watching the sunset after his practice, he turns to you with a grin.

“so,” he says, nudging you playfully. “are you ready to stop pretending we’re just fake dating?”

you laugh, leaning against his shoulder. “i think we’ve been past that point for a while now, hoon.”

he smiles, his eyes soft as he looks down at you “good. because i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”

you smile back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you rest your head against him.

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be—no more pretending, no more doubts.

just you and sunghoon, and the future ahead of you.

a few days later, it’s the championship game, and the energy in the stadium is like nothing you’ve ever experienced.

the stands are packed with students, parents, and teachers, all buzzing with excitement as they watch the final moments of the game unfold.

the score is tied, and there’s only one minute left on the clock.

you’re sitting on the edge of your seat, next to karina your heart pounding in your chest as you watch sunghoon move across the field with lightning speed.

his eyes are locked on the ball, his focus razor-sharp, and you know—this is his moment.

this is what he’s been working toward all season.

“come on, sunghoon,” you whisper under your breath, your hands clenched into fists as you lean forward.

the crowd is on their feet, everyone holding their breath as sunghoon makes his move.

he dodges one defender, then another, running through the opposing team with ease—and then, with just seconds to spare, he takes the shot.

the ball soars through the air, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped.

everyone watches in stunned silence as the ball flies toward the goal…and lands perfectly in the back of the net.

the crowd erupts into cheers, the sound so loud it shakes the stadium, and you jump to your feet, screaming in excitement.

sunghoon has done it—he’s won the game.

on the field, his teammates rush toward him, lifting him up onto their shoulders as they celebrate their victory.

sunghoon is laughing, his face lit up with pure joy as he’s carried around the field—but even in the middle of all the chaos, his eyes are searching for something—or someone.

then, you see it—his gaze locks onto yours from across the field, and in that moment, it’s like no one else exists.

the cheers, the noise, the celebration—it all fades away as sunghoon looks at you, a wide smile spreading across his face.

you felt a soft nudge beside you, making you turn to face the girl who you’d been spending time with recently.

“babe—what are you waiting for? go!” she shouts excitedly making you run down the stands to congratulate sunghoon.

without a second thought, he jumps down from his teammates’ shoulders, running toward you with a determination that makes your heart race.

before you can even process what’s happening, he’s in front of you, sweeping you into his arms and lifting you off the ground.

you let out a startled laugh as he spins you around, your feet dangling in the air. “sunghoon, what are you doing?”

but he doesn’t answer. instead, he pulls you close and kisses you, his lips warm and soft against yours.

the world around you melts away, and all you can feel is him—his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breath mingling with yours, the sheer joy radiating from him.

when you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, and you can’t help but laugh.

“you’re supposed to be celebrating with your team, you know.”

sunghoon grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “i’d rather celebrate with you.”

you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, but you love me anyway,” he teases, setting you back down on the ground.

you playfully slap his arm, shaking your head. “go celebrate with your teammates. you earned this.”

but sunghoon just shrugs, pulling you closer. “they can wait. right now, i just want to be with my girlfriend.”

your heart swells at his words, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by how much you care about him.

this is real—so much more than the fake relationship you started with.

you’re no longer the girl from the beginning of highschool, locked in her room writing letters heartbroken at night.

now, standing here in the middle of a roaring crowd with sunghoon holding you like you’re the only person in the world, you realize just how far you’ve come together.

you smile, leaning in to kiss him again, your lips brushing softly against his. “okay,” you whisper against his mouth. “but you better go back to them soon, or they’re going to start wondering where their star player went.”

sunghoon laughs, the sound warm and full of happiness. “fine. but don’t go anywhere. i’m not done celebrating with you yet.”

you laugh too, your heart light as you watch him jog back toward his teammates, the smile on his face never fading.

the crowd is still cheering, the excitement still there, but all you can focus on is the way sunghoon keeps glancing back at you, like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

and in that moment, you know—you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

no more pretending, no more doubts. just you, sunghoon, and the love you’ve both fought so hard to find.

© WON4KISS 2024 do not plagarize, repost, or translate.

❝ PLEASE REBLoG AND LiKE .ᐟㅤ 💌

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[theostrophywife]

agora hills.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: agora hills by doja cat.

author's note: as always, this unhinged fic idea started in chlo and i's endless chats about these pesky men. enzo has a special place in my heart because he's so golden retriever sunshine (don't be fooled by that face though he's filthy).

Enzo Berkshire was your best friend. 

Despite what your friends seemed to think, the relationship between you two had always been strictly platonic. Perhaps it was easy to misinterpret your actions as romantic. After all, you and Enzo were very touchy and affectionate people. It was typical of you two to hold hands in the halls, cuddle in the common room, and even share the occasional cheek or forehead kiss, which you deemed completely normal. This type of behavior has been the standard since you were eleven years old. 

Still, you weren’t blind. You knew your best friend was attractive. Enzo had always been handsome in your eyes, but then fourth year rolled around and everyone else started to notice it too. To be fair, he had grown at least a foot over the summer and quidditch definitely helped him pack on lean muscle. Needless to say, girls flocked to him like a swarm of bees to honey, but he never really seemed interested in any of them. Not that you were paying attention. It was a natural thing to notice when you spent every waking moment with someone. 

The point of the matter was that you had absolutely no romantic feelings for Enzo whatsoever. Or so you thought. Until the bloody dream that flipped your friendship on its head. 

It was a normal day. You and Enzo were studying in your dorm like you usually did after class. Enzo was sprawled out on the rug scribbling away for his assignment on Ancient Runes. You were on your bed reading up on History of Magic. You knew you should be focusing since there would be a test tomorrow, but the chapter was boring and you were absolutely knackered from attending classes all day. 

Before you knew it, you were fully knocked out. A part of you was aware that you were dreaming, but the surreality of it blurred the lines of reality. 

In your dreams, you were still in your room studying with Enzo. Except your best friend was no longer hunched over his homework on your rug. Now Enzo was standing at the edge of your bed, blocking out the afternoon sun. You stared up in confusion as he took the book from your hands. 

“Enz? What are you doing?” 

Enzo stared intently at you, his soft hazel eyes flickering down to your lips. It was a little like being hit with a beam of sunshine. Your heart stuttered in your chest as he ran his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“I want to try something.”

You held your breath as Enzo leaned over. The bed dipped from his weight as you sat frozen in place. He rubbed soothing circles along your wrist, causing you to melt into his touch. It was a familiar sensation, one that always calmed you down but right at that moment, you felt anything but. The beat of your heart echoed so loudly that you were sure he could hear it. 

Enzo leaned in close, his face mere inches away from yours. He stroked your cheek gently. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured, the low whisper of his voice conjuring goosebumps along your arms. “Can I?”

You blinked, swallowing thickly. He was so close that you could smell the woodsy smell of his cologne, combined with a hint of fresh laundry and citrus. 

“Yes,” you responded breathily. 

Before you could think better of it, Enzo was kissing you. It was soft and sweet, his kisses gentle while he tested the waters. The quick little pecks soon evolved into deeper kisses as your body responded to his touch. Your hands moved outside of your own volition, fingers tangling in Enzo’s hair as you pulled him closer. He groaned and tilted your head back for a better angle, your bodies pressed close together and radiating heat underneath your clothes. 

Enzo scooted back on the headboard and pulled you into his lap without breaking the kiss. You gasped when his hands roamed underneath your skirt, gripping your thighs so that you were fully settled over his length. What started as a sweet innocent kiss escalated into a full on heated makeout session. Kissing till your lips were swollen. Moaning into each other’s mouths. Grasping at every inch of skin the two of you could reach. 

When you felt him grind his hardness against your backside, you gasped. Enzo took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, swirling and sucking until you were panting above him. 

“Y/N,” he grunted huskily. “I need you.”

The desperation in Enzo’s voice made you shudder. You didn’t even think twice before unbuckling his belt and tugging his boxers down. Enzo groaned as he stroked himself, pulling your panties to the side. You whimpered as he teased his tip at your entrance. 

“I want you so fucking bad.”

“I want you too, Enzo.”

Friendship be damned, Enzo gripped your hips and watched as you sank into him. His eyes rolled back when he felt your warmth and wetness hug around his cock. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, resting his head in the crook of your neck. “Gods, you feel so fucking good. Better than I imagined.”

You clenched at his words and he inhaled sharply before rolling your hips to set the pace. Once you established a steady rhythm, Enzo pinned you with his lust blown gaze and watched as you rode him. He lavished you with sloppy kisses, stopping every now and then to moan into your mouth while you continued rolling your hips against him. 

“That’s it, princess. Feels good, yeah? Keep rolling your hips just like that,” Enzo said, thrusting upwards to fuck into you. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock, pretty girl.”

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Just as Enzo hit that perfect spot, your eyes flew open. 

You were startled to find yourself back in your dorm, warm, sweaty, and alone in bed. You nearly fell off altogether when you found Enzo still sitting on the rug below you. While you were dreaming about doing filthy things with him, Enzo was completely oblivious and focused on studying. Like you should’ve been. 

Enzo perked up, concern written all over his face when he saw how flushed you were. He immediately rushed over to your side. Your cheeks were so red that he thinks you might be running a fever. Enzo pressed the back of his hand against your forehead and you bit down on your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning. 

“You’re burning up, Y/N.” Enzo sounded genuinely worried. If only he knew the reason why you currently shared the same temperature as the common room fireplace. “Maybe I should walk you over to the infirmary?” 

“No!” Your voice echoed shrilly in your dorm, causing you to wince. “I’m fine. I just…I just need fresh air.”

“Oh good, I’ll come walk with you.”

“No,” you said rather harshly. Enzo frowned. “I, uh, I think I should go alone.”

Now Enzo was truly perturbed. He pouted at your refusal. Why didn’t you want him to come? You always walked around the Black Lake together. 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?” 

He squinted at you, hoping to catch your gaze. You completely avoided looking him in the eyes before scrambling out of bed. 

“I’m fine, really. I’ll see you later, Enz.”

You were out the door before Enzo even had a chance to respond. 

You were acting like a bloody idiot. 

After that unfortunate afternoon, you spent the next few days avoiding Enzo. The dream had completely flustered you. It was impossible to be in the same room as your best friend. You couldn’t even look Enzo in the eyes without thinking of him being inside of you.  

More than that, it was making you rethink your entire friendship. You adored Enzo. He had been a constant in your life since first year. The two of you were inseparable and he was pretty much the most important person in your life. You had never once thought about him in a sexual manner, but obviously you were attracted to him given the filthy thoughts that flooded your mind like a plague. 

You were praying to Merlin that this stupid little lapse of yours would pass and take all the hormone addled aftereffects with it. Perhaps it was just lack of physical affection that was causing you to think this way. After all, you had broken up with your last boyfriend months ago. There was the casual hookup every now and then, but those never really satisfied you in the way that you wanted. It certainly wasn’t anything like how Enzo had been in your dream. 

As you cataloged and compared your most recent stints, the intrusive thought slipped in without warning. There were no secrets between you and Enzo, so you knew that it had been awhile since he hooked up with anyone else too. Come to think of it, except for a couple flings here and there, Enzo has never really had a serious relationship. 

You never really thought much about it. It wasn’t like you were running headfirst into commitment either, but now you couldn’t help but wonder why Enzo had never had a girlfriend. Were relationships just not his cup of tea? If so, why the bloody hell not?

By the time you had unraveled that string, Pansy was snapping her fingers in front of your face. You shook your head and rejoined the present. Before your little spiral, you and Pansy had been discussing the homework for Charms. 

Your friend narrowed her eyes on you. “Alright, spill,” Pansy said. “There’s clearly something on your mind.”

You peered around the common room. For the most part, it was empty. Only a few of the other Slytherins lingered in your midst, but one could never be too careful in the viper’s nest. 

Once you were sure the coast was clear, you leaned closer to Pansy and spoke in a low voice. “Have you ever had a dream about one of the guys?”

Pansy leaned back on the velvet emerald couch with an expression of intrigue. “What kind of dream?”

“You know,” you urged, picking at the cushion in your lap. “The sexual kind.”

She shook her head, her glossy bob shimmering in the faint light. “No, I can’t say that I have.” 

“I have!” Theo said cheerfully as he plopped down between you. His presence startled you, but he looked utterly unperturbed as he butted into the conversation. “About both of you, actually.”

You wrinkled your nose and smacked him on the arm. “Gross, Theo.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Pansy said with a look of disgust.

Theo was deeply offended by it all. “What? I’ll have you know that I was very loving and gentle,” you groaned and made a gagging sound. “I also had one about Reg and that one wasn’t as gentle, if you know what I mean.”

He grinned cheekily, which only made you lament further. Pansy shook her head in disbelief. “Really, Regulus? He’s the human equivalent of a grumpy black cat. All the first years are terrified of him.”

Theo shrugged. “What can I say? I’m into that. All that surliness and those curls, y’know…”

It was Pansy’s turn to smack him. “For Salazar’s fucking sake, shut it, Theodore. I want to know who Y/N had a dream about.”

“Was it Riddle?” Theo prompted.

“Which one?”

“Mattheo, obviously. Tom looks like he hasn’t had a woman’s touch in years.”

“That’s mean!” you cut in. “I’m telling Tom you said that.”

“Please don’t. I value my life, thank you very much.”

Pansy scoffed. “It’s not either one of the Riddles then.”

“Was it me?” asked Theo. 

“Gods, no.”

He rolled his eyes in response. “It can’t be Blaise because him and Pans are shagging on the daily.” Theo’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me it’s Malfoy.” 

“Absolutely not.”

“But he’s close, right?” Pansy said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. You nodded weakly. She gasped. “Oh my god, Berkshire? Really?”

You buried your face in your hands. You were truly going to die of embarrassment. Pansy continued with her assessment. “Well, you two are practically attached at the hip, so it makes sense. Still, I truly didn’t expect it to be Enzo. He’s so sweet, I just can’t see him that way.”

The shit-eating grin on Theo’s face made you cringe. “Was it good? It had to be, right? Is that why you’ve been avoiding him all week?” 

“What? I haven’t been avoiding him.”

“Sure you have,” declared Theo. “Berkshire’s all broken up about it. Thinks he’s done something to upset you. The whole time you’ve been nursing filthy little fantasies about sweet baby boy Enzo. Oh, I can’t wait to tell the guys about this.”

Panic seized you and Theo yelped as you held his arm in a death grip. “You can’t say a fucking word, Theo. Do you hear me? It’s already humiliating enough to have a sex dream about my best friend. I will literally murder you if you tell any of the boys.”

Theo sighed. “Fine, I won’t tell. Now let go of me, woman.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Pansy. “You can’t keep avoiding Enzo forever.”

You sighed. You were completely and utterly at a loss. Pansy was right. Enzo was already starting to suspect something and you felt bad that he thought he’d done something to upset you when you were the one in the wrong. How could you possibly act normal after all of this?

“Maybe you should ask him if he’s ever thought about you that way,” Theo suggested. “That way the ball’s in his court.” 

You scoffed. “I’m supposed to just come up to him and casually ask, Hey Enz, have you ever had a sex dream about me that was so filthy that you couldn’t make eye contact for days after?” 

“I guarantee you the answer will be yes.”

As you chided Theo for being his usual ridiculous self, Pansy discretely nudged you. Enzo rounded the corner and waved at the three of you. Theo and Pansy shared a look before leaving you to your own devices. Bloody traitors. 

Enzo was unbothered by their sudden departure. “Hi, love. I haven’t seen you all week. You haven’t been avoiding me, have you?” 

His tone was light and playful, but it still made you nervous as all hell. “No, not at all,” you internally cringed at the forced cheeriness in your voice. “I’ve just been…busy. Yeah, that’s it. No other reason.”

For Salazar’s fucking sake. You were horrible at this. Lying to Enzo wasn’t something you were used to. 

Enzo nodded. “Okay, well we’re still on for movie night, right?” 

“Oh, yeah, about that—“

“It shouldn't be a problem,” he added thoughtfully, shooting you a cheeky grin. “Unless you’re actually avoiding me.”

Fuck. Your mind was screaming at you to say no. To make up some lame excuse. To do something other than gape at Enzo. 

Unfortunately, your brain decided to stop working as soon as those dimples of his made an appearance. Merlin’s bloody beard, you truly needed to get a grip. 

You forced yourself to smile back so he wouldn’t think anything was amiss. “”I was just going to ask what snacks you wanted.”

“Just you,” Enzo said, his grin growing wider. Did his voice suddenly sound deeper than it had a few seconds ago? No, it was likely just your delusion. “That’s all I need.”

Later that night, Enzo arrived with the projector and a handful of movie choices. You spent the entire afternoon pacing and working yourself into a fit. He was entirely unaware of the cloud of anxiety hanging over you as he loaded up your favorite movie. 

Your dorm had never felt as cramped as it did at this moment. Enzo plopped down on your bed. The scene of the crime. You climbed in on the other end and resigned yourself to sitting perfectly upright and rigid while he made himself comfortable. Enzo looked at you strangely. Usually, the two of you would be cuddling. 

“What are you doing all the way over there?” Enzo asked, spreading his arms out. “Come cuddle.”

You sighed internally. This felt like tempting fate, but what could you do? If you refused, Enzo would definitely know that something was up. As slow as a snail, you scooted closer to his side. He took one look at you and shook his head before hauling you over to him. Besides being manhandled, the position was quite familiar. You tucked against his side, head resting on his shoulder while he nuzzled his cheek against your hair. 

Enzo pressed play and you started to relax while the movie unfolded. The peace didn’t last for long. As the opening scene played, Enzo absentmindedly tugged at the hem of your shirt. Again, his affectionate nature wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Yet you couldn’t help but hold your breath as he rubbed soothing circles against your hip. While the gesture usually comforted you, it had the opposite effect now. 

“You’re so tense, love,” Enzo murmured. His voice sounded so deep and delicious.

“It’s been a stressful week.”

“I bet.” 

You shuddered as he trailed his fingers over your spine, drawing patterns along your skin. Temptation wasn’t knocking at your door. It was kicking it down altogether. Enzo shifted, brushing his knuckles just below the hook of your bra. 

“This can’t be comfortable,” he said, hooking a finger around the band. “Maybe you’ll feel more relaxed with it off. Don’t you think so, sweetheart?” 

There was no time to analyze what the fuck was going on. All of your efforts were spent solely on fighting the urge to moan. Enzo toyed with the band, waiting for your answer. 

“Yeah,” you said breathily. “I think—I think you’re right.”

“Course I am. Let me take it off for you then, yeah?” 

“Okay.” 

Enzo unhooked your bra with a flick of his fingers. Almost like he had long mastered the art and this was merely just child’s play. He helped you shrug out of your bra and carelessly tossed it to the side. You sighed softly as Enzo switched to long, purposeful strokes. He started at your hips, then your stomach, gradually moving up until he was barely an inch away from the underside of your breasts. Your eyes fluttered close, completely lost to his touch. They opened again when Enzo nuzzled his nose against yours. 

“Hi,” he said with a smile. 

“Hi,” you whispered. “What are we doing, Enzo?” 

“Nothing that I haven’t thought about a million times over.”

“You’ve thought about me like this?” 

“I’m always thinking about you,” Enzo admitted. “Sometimes it’s just cuddling or holding hands. Just sweet stuff cause I love touching you like this, but other times…other times I dream about you like you dreamt about me.”

Your breath hitched. “You know about my dream?” 

“I heard you in the common room earlier.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I don’t know what came over me. That’s why I haven’t talked to you much this week. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Enzo took your hand and slid it down the front of his gray sweatpants. You gasped when you felt how hard he was against your palm. “Do I feel uncomfortable to you, sweetheart?”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip. You didn’t trust yourself with words at the moment. Enzo nuzzled against you, littering soft little kisses in his wake. He pecked and nipped at your neck, your collarbone, your jaw. 

“You drive me fucking mad, you know that? I want you so badly I’d literally get on my knees and beg if you asked.”

The tension was too much for you to bear. You pulled him in by the front of his shirt and pressed your lips against his. Enzo groaned into your mouth. The hand underneath your shirt crawled up until he was cupping your tits, rubbing his thumb over your nipples. Enzo tried to keep the kisses soft. He intended to savor it, but every ounce of self control went out the window the second he heard you moan. 

Enzo flipped you over so that you were straddling his lap. He looked down and realized that you were wearing one of his old shirts and the sight of it made him even harder. The tiny shorts you were wearing was a pesky little barrier, but it didn’t stop him from grinding his hardness against your ass. He tugged at the hem of your shirt. 

“Take this off, right now. I need to feel you, pretty girl.”

He watched as you peeled off the shirt. Enzo did the same, tossing both articles of clothing over the side of your bed. He groaned at the skin to skin contact. Enzo smiled as he drank it all in. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You’re not bad to look at either, Enz.”

Enzo chuckled. “Cheeky girl. Come on, then. Shorts off too.”

You took off your shorts as Enzo slipped out of his sweatpants and boxers. He kissed you again, sloppy, filthy, and downright obscene. There was plenty of panting and groping as the two of you explored each other’s bodies. Enzo practically purred into your ear as you rubbed over his shaft. He felt like velvet in your hands. When you flicked your thumb to spread the bead of precum over his tip, Enzo released an animalistic growl. 

“Oh fuck,” he whimpered. “Gods, I need to be inside of you right fucking now or I’ll die.”

There was no time to slide off your panties. Enzo merely yanked it to the side and guided you over him. He kept his eyes on you as you sank down slowly, taking him inch by inch. Enzo groaned, digging his fingers into your hips while you adjusted to his size.

“Goddamn, you’re so wet and so fucking tight.” 

You had no idea that such filthy words could sound like music in your ears. Enzo may have been sweet as sugar, but you knew that he wasn’t innocent. He was far too cheeky to be anything but downright dirty in bed. 

Enzo was also extremely responsive. He made sure to praise and worship like your body was an altar and he was the most pious believer. 

“Enz, gods,” you moaned as he flicked his tongue over your nipple. “You’re really good at that.” 

“Yeah?” He asked cheekily. “You think so?” 

You chuckled. It was such an Enzo comment. If you weren’t actively losing your mind, you might’ve rolled your eyes at him. Whatever fantasy your mind has conjured paled in comparison to reality. Sex with Enzo was easy. You knew him and you trusted him. It was like breathing air. 

Every moan and whimper only helped you grow more and more attuned with each other’s bodies. The sounds you made were a special language of its own, one that only you and Enzo understood.

“That’s it, princess. You’re taking me so well.” 

“Like that?” you asked, rolling your hips. 

Enzo groaned in response, which made you smirk in satisfaction. He chuckled and kissed you deeply. “Ride me harder, sweetheart. Fuck…yeah just like that.” 

He moaned into your mouth, meeting the roll of your hips with thrusts of his own. Enzo pressed his forehead against your, his long lashes kissing the tops of your cheekbones while he pressed you closer. The deep angle in which he drove into you had you clawing at his back. 

“Oh gods, oh fuck. I can feel you clenching around me, pretty girl. You’re gonna cum for me like a good girl, yeah?”

“I’m so close.” Enzo flipped you onto your back and fucked you into the mattress. The tension uncoiled in your core until you were panting, chasing after that sweet release. “Oh—oh gods, Enzo.”

The orgasm knocked the very breath from your lungs. It was a total out of body experience. Your back arched, your toes curled, and you screamed his name, but none of it registered past the pleasure of coming. As soon as Enzo felt you creaming him from base to tip, he came too. 

It was strangely beautiful to watch. Enzo was mesmerizing. With his sweat slicked skin and swollen lips, strands of his dark hair clinging onto his flushed cheeks. You’ve never seen such a pretty sight. 

The two of you stayed curled up into each other. Enzo slowly pulled out and placed a tender kiss on your temple. This time, there wasn’t a single hint of hesitation as you cuddled up against his side. He was warm and comfortable, lulling you into sleep as he tangled his long legs with yours. 

You didn’t know how long you drifted off. It only felt like a few seconds later when you found yourself on your stomach, blinking sleepily up at Enzo. He smiled, kissing along your spine as he pried your legs apart. You groaned into the pillow as he thrusted lazily from behind. 

It was dark as night outside when you were finally done. You couldn’t even remember how many times he made you cum. All you knew was that you were in complete bliss as you and Enzo sprawled out on your sheets. 

You looked up at Enzo. He looked down at you. The two of you burst into a nervous fit of giggles.

“Shit. Did we just—“

He nodded, curling a strand of your hair through his fingers. “Yeah, we definitely did. Two. Three. Four times? I honestly lost count.” 

You chuckled softly. There was a moment of silence as you collected yourself. Enzo lowered himself down so that you were facing each other. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, pretty girl.” 

Despite your steamy activities, you had never felt more shy than when he brushed his lips across your knuckles. 

“I care about you, Enzo and I know you care about me too. Tonight was….fuck. Tonight was great. I just want to make sure this doesn’t change our friendship.”

“Of course it’s going to change things,” Enzo said matter-of-factly. “You think I can stay just friends with you after that?” 

You swallowed thickly. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. I know you don’t really date. I mean, half the school’s asked you out and you’ve turned them all down, so I’m not expecting to be the exception. It’s alright if you just want this to be casual.”

“I don’t. I’ve said no to everyone because I’ve been waiting for you. You are the exception, Y/N. It’s always been you.” 

“Really?” you whispered, biting back a smile. “You mean that?” 

Enzo nodded and kissed your fingertips. “Sweetheart, you’ve had me in the palm of your hands since we were eleven. Of course I mean it.” 

You didn’t try to hide your smile. You were absolutely beaming. “So you don’t want things to be casual?”

“There’s nothing casual about what I feel for you.” 

“Okay,” you said, processing his revelation. “I don’t want things to be casual either. It might be selfish, but I think I want you all to myself, Enzo.” 

He released a sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking Merlin. I want you all to myself too, Y/N.”

[sun-kissy]

chocolate-coated hearts | r.l.

୨ৎ series masterlist

barista!remus x shy!reader

summary: you go to a new cafe to order donuts for your friend, immediately enamoured with the barista

tw: nothing? reader takes literature as a major, also kind of has social anxiety

a/n: might make this a series! i’ve got a few ideas <3

An anxious sigh escapes you as you stand idly outside the cafe, peering inside through the mosaicked windows. It was jam-packed, people pushing past each other and snake-like queues forming throughout the space. You wriggle your phone out of your coat pocket and glance at the message that your friend, Madison, had sent in a half hour ago.

hey gorgeous!! mind picking up a few donuts for me at Beanie’s before you come over? a few of the pbj ones, and some chocolate ones too. thanks xx

She was expecting, and you went by whenever you could to help her out after her asshole of a boyfriend left.

Normally, you wouldn’t bother. You hated crowded places, and Beanie’s was the definition of crowded – an old-style cafe which had blown up overnight because of its scrumptious donuts and vintage aesthetic. But who were you to deny the cravings of the woman bearing your goddaughter?

You take a deep breath and push the creaky wooden door open, cringing at how the bell rang and signalled the whole cafe to your presence. But no one so much as looked up, busy trying to buy or sell food, or find a table.

You push your way through the sea of people, joining the queue in front of the counter. It was long, you noted, and would probably take another fifteen minutes or so until it was your turn to place an order. You fish out your crumpled book from your bag and turn it to the page you had stopped on yesterday. It was the second classic of the term – Pride and Prejudice. Taking literature as a major meant you spent more time reading than anything else, but you weren’t complaining.

As you read, you scribbled down plot points to take note of and quotes which meant something worth writing about. Your eyes stayed glued to the page, trying to work out hidden meanings and flowery language. Once you were back home, you’d have to compile all your analysis onto that worksheet Professor Ragnarsson had given out, write the 10-page long review, and then –

“Hey! Shut the damn book and order, will you?”

Your heart jumps in your chest at the sudden harsh tone. You close your book and whip your head around to see a middle-aged man glaring at you before peering down at his watch. “There’s a long queue, and we don’t have all day.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks as you open your mouth to apologise – but before you can say anything, you hear an oddly soothing voice from behind you. “Hey, don’t be a jerk. She didn’t know the counter was open.”

You glance back towards the counter, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a second. Angelic was an understatement to describe the man standing in front of you, tall and lanky and absolutely fucking beautiful.

His chestnut brown hair perfectly framed his pale face, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he glanced at the rude customer behind you. There were pinkish scars tracing from above his eyebrows to right below his lips, but they looked golden under the orange light – he looked like some kind of heavenly being.

When his eyes dart back to you, his expression instantly softened, lips tilting upwards in a smile. You thought you would melt into a puddle right there and then just by gazing into his warm, honeyed eyes. “Hi, gorgeous. What can I get you?”

You blink, your mouth involuntarily falling open slightly. Gorgeous? Was he talking to you? Maybe he was referring to the man behind you.

His smile widens, and that does absolutely nothing to calm the feeling of your heart bouncing around in your stomach. “It’s okay if you can’t choose just yet, I know the number of options can be…” he chuckles, “overwhelming. Take all the time you need to decide.”

Oh my god, you thought. His laugh sounded musical, like the tender feeling of being enveloped in a warm embrace. You’d put it on a record player and play it on loop for hours if you could.

“Hurry the fuck up –”

“One more word from you and you won’t be getting your coffee today, buddy,” the godly-looking barista snapped in a slightly louder tone at the man behind you, face contorted in irritation.

You hear silent cursing behind you, a twinge of embarrassment turning you red. You quickly glance back up. “Sorry, hi, hello. I’ll um… I…” the words were on the tip of your tongue, but seemed to dissolve when he glanced at you with those agonisingly pretty eyes and kind smile.

Snap out of it, you internally curse as you open your mouth again. “I’ll get three peanut butter-jelly donuts, and four chocolate donuts.”

“Okay. Which chocolate ones?” he asks, tapping his tongs against the display dome with stacks of donuts. There really were a lot of options – chocolate sprinkles, belgian chocolate, chocolate glazed, double chocolate – your mind seemed to freeze up for a second. Which one would Madison want?

You quickly look behind you, seeing the man’s face twisted up in what looked like rage. It seemed to be taking him all his willpower not to lash out at you, and the customers behind him didn’t look much far off.

You turn back to the counter, eyes wide with panic as you feel the blood rush to your head. You had never been good at this; thinking and choosing on the spot. That’s why Subway was always a no-go for you, that’s why Madison had specifically told you what to get her – just that she hadn’t been specific enough. “I… I’m not sure. I think, um…”

“Hey, take it easy,” you look back up to see Remus giving you a reassuring smile, a slight hint of concern on his face. Your despair must have been embarrassingly evident, then. “It’s alright if you can’t choose. Do you want me to pick for you?”

You ought to have been humiliated, the way you immediately nodded and gave in to his offer. But he just gave you an easy smile and nodded, picking up one of each type and placing them in the box.

“Thank you,” you mumble sheepishly as you move to the payment counter, fishing in your bag for a wad of notes.

“Of course,” he grins, and it was so bright you thought it could probably light up the whole cafe. “That’ll be $15.90.”

As he waits for you to pay, he takes a quick look down and begins to brush crumbs off his apron. You look up at the wrong moment, eyes immediately fixing on the curves of his biceps visible through his T-shirt, and his slender fingers.

He glances back up at you, catching a glimpse of your flustered look and instantly smirking. You look away abashedly, counting the money and handing it to him.

The brush of your fingers against his calloused palm sent a jolting shock through you as you quickly pull back, not missing the way his smile widened as he cashed the money into the register.

“Thanks for visiting, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.”

You don’t reply, afraid you’d crumble into a blushing, gooey mess. Flashing him a brief, nervous smile, you pick up the box of donuts before turning around and heading straight for the exit. Sweetheart.

You huff as you open the door and step outside, pulling out your phone to complain to Madison all about the stupidly handsome barista at her favourite cafe. God, he really knew what he was doing.

[yonch]

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

[g1rld1ary]

the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader

➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper

➻ word count: 4346

➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!

➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.

Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.

“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.

“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.

“Wait, really?”

“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.

“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.

“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.

“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.

“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.

“Prongs, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.

“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.

It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!

Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.

“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.

“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.

“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”

“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”

“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”

Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.

It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.

Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?

After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.

While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.

“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.

“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.

“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.

You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.

“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.

“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.

You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.

“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.

“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.

Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.

You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.

Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.

You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.

The group was trying to organise their next meeting.

“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.

“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.

“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”

“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.

“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.

“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.

“It’s not what you think—”

“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.

“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”

The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.

“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.

“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”

“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.

“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.

“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.

Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.

You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.

Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.

“I love you,” He said and you laughed.

“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.

“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.

“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.

“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.

Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.

You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.

A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.

“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.

It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.

You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.

“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.

“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.

“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.

Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.

“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”

“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.

“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.

“Really?”

“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.

“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.

You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.

“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”

“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.

There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.

“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.

“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.

“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.

“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.

You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.

“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.

“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.

“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.

You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.

The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.

[plumso]

get him back! (lorenzo x reader)

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader // reader's pov!! trope: academic rivals summary: y/n regularly complains about how lorenzo always teases and places ahead of them. but when someone else insults lorenzo, y/n can't stop the boiling rage inside. masterlist I do not consent to the reposting of my work! reblogging, however, is fine <3

Friday night and there’s no sound in the library except the faint scribbles of a frustrated individual.

Y/N has been studying since the start of the Slytherin and Gryffindor quidditch match. They have continued to study despite their friends’ efforts to drag them to the after parties. Everyone is at the common rooms socializing and laughing. Even Hermione is nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile, with their notes gradually becoming messier, Y/N is all alone. Or so they thought.

“Copying it down word-for-word won’t help with memorizing, you know,” a low voice says behind you.

You jump in shock and turn around to confront the sudden voice. You see that it’s Lorenzo Bershkire, the smug Slytherin boy you swore to defeat since first year. Since then, you made every attempt to beat him either in potions, charms, transfiguration - even in muggle studies! But to no avail. He has remained in his position as first with you as second best.

You watch as Lorenzo’s dark brown eyes examines your notes. His large body is hovering over your shoulder to peek at your work. With his broad chest so close, you can faintly smell his cologne - sage and bergamot. It smells clean and expensive.

“Mind your own business, Berkshire. And don’t look at my notes!” You exclaimed as you covered your books with your hands. You know he’s right, but after hours of rereading the same material, you felt desperate. But you didn’t expect your rival of 6 years to see your pathetic notes.

Lorenzo chuckles as he takes the seat next to you. He props an arm on the table and rests his head in his hand. His legs are crossed and his stare is unwavering. ‘Of course, he’s effortlessly good at posing,’ you think to yourself. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“You’ll never be first if your handwriting is still like that,” he says as he points at my notes. “It looks like a 10-year-old wrote it.”

You feel your face flush and your cheeks burn. “Oh yeah? Well, at least I don’t pretend to get people to like me. Unlike you, I’m not fake.”

You expect Lorenzo to be caught off guard or hurt, but he remains calm with a smirk still on his face. You can’t stand it. 

“It’s called manipulating, darling. It’s how you get ahead in life,” he says as he twirls my hair with his long, slender fingers. “You should try it sometimes. Maybe you’ll get first place over me one day.”

“So you admit that you manipulate people? Wait until I tell the others - they won’t be so accepting of you then,” you say with a triumphant grin. 

“Do it. They won’t believe you,” he says with a smirk.

Your grin drops and you become silent. You know he’s right. You’ve voiced your opinions about him before, but no one believes you. He can get away with anything.

You sigh in defeat. “You know, I can’t stand you, Berkshire. You get on my nerves,” you say as you shake your head.

Now it’s his turn to be silent, but it feels weird. You’re afraid to look at him, afraid that you took it too far. You immediately want to apologize, but you don’t want to appear weak in front of him. So, you picked up your quill and continued writing.

After a few silent minutes, you hear his chair squeak. Afraid that he was, in fact, hurt by your comment, you turn around to stop him. However, you instantly lock eyes with his, his face only inches away from yours. 

“I only leaned in to help you, but if you wanted to kiss me so badly, you could have just said so,” Lorenzo says with a chuckle. Though you know he was teasing you, your heart felt light knowing he wasn’t sad.

“No thanks! Not in a million years.” You exclaimed as you distance yourself from him.

“So after a million years, you’ll kiss me then? I can wait for that long.”

You give him a look of disbelief before you start packing your things. This causes him to laugh.

“I was just joking! Don’t leave,” he says as he tries to stop you from packing.

You push away his hands. “Well, it’s obvious that I won’t get any studying done with you here, so I’m gonna head to bed.”

“It’s 8:30,” he remarks with disbelief. 

“I’m an early sleeper!” You exclaim as you close your bag and hang it over your shoulder. “Good night, and, uh, I hope you get nightmares.”

You start walking away, but Lorenzo takes hold of one of your hands. He doesn’t say anything and you don’t look back. 

Surprisingly, you don’t draw back your hand. Instead, you linger in his touch. You notice the rough calluses of his finger and how gently he’s holding your hand. You’re surprised; you assumed it would be smooth and cold, but his touch makes you feel warm.

You linger for a few more seconds before you walk away, releasing your hand from his. You want to look back and see the face he’s making, but your pride urges you not to. Sticking to your pride, you exit the library and head to your dorm.

***

The next day during lunch, you couldn’t help but think back on last night with Lorenzo. Why did he hold your hand? Why was he even in the library late at night? Why wasn’t he partying with his friends? And how did he know you would be there? 

You stop yourself. ‘Why would I even think that he was looking for me? I’m nothing more than an entertaining rival to him,’ you think as your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

You glance behind you to spot Lorenzo sitting with his usual group. They seem to be deeply conversing in something before they all bust out in laughter. What were they saying that could make him laugh like that?

Feeling annoyed, you turn back around and grunt. His air of superiority, his fancy clothes, and his wispy hair - it annoyed you that you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stand how he made fun of your efforts and always placed ahead of you in everything. But what you couldn’t stand the most was how you couldn’t hate him. 

You turn to Hermione who has pumpkin juice in one hand and the Daily Prophet in the other. “Hermione, do you think I’m shallow?”

Hermione raises an eyebrow and sets down her drink. “What a random question to ask. No, I don’t think you’re shallow,” she says with a small laugh.

“What if someone was mean, but they were also really handsome? I mean, you can be annoyed or even dislike them, but could you really hate them?” 

“Hmmm. That is interesting. Are we talking about anyone in particular?” Hermione says with a secret grin that she shares with Ron and Harry.

“Uhh, no. No one in particular. Just curious!” You quip as you fiddle with your cup of orange juice, attempting to seem unconcerned.

“How about you give an example? It’ll help us answer,” Ron chimes.

“Well, I only asked Hermione, but okay.” You look around the Great Hall, trying to find someone who’s mean and handsome, but the only answer you can come up with is Lorenzo. ‘Maybe they won’t think too much of it,’ you think to yourself.

“Ummm, Berkshire, for example. He’s… conventionally okay-looking, but he’s rude and mean,” you say as you avoid looking at their eyes.

“You mean he’s mean to you. He’s always been nice to me,” Ron replies as he munches on a cookie.

“Because he’s two-faced! He makes fun of me at every opportunity,” you say with frustration. “Okay, Ron, maybe you’re too slow to see it, but surely you two believe me, right?” You give a hopeful look to Hermione and Harry.

“Uhhh, sorry, Y/N. Though he hangs out with Draco, he’s actually really nice,” Harry says with a sheepish smile.

“Maybe he teases you because you two are rivals?” Hermione says with a small shrug.

“More like you compete with him while he does nothing,” Ron says with a chuckle but stops when Harry nudges his side. “But, uh, yeah, the ‘rivals’ thing could be a… contributing factor.”

“cOntrIbuTing fActOr” you mockingly say back to Ron, which makes him laugh. “Now answer my question! Could you hate a super handsome person?”

Hermione shifts her body to you and gives you a serious look. “Y/N, I don’t think it’s about looks. I think you li-”

“What are we talking about?” Cormac McLaggen interrupts with a smug smile. He then sits himself between you Hermione. “Did you mention ‘Berkshire?’”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat and try to inch away from him. You never liked McLaggen. He’s weird and too arrogant for no reason, but you didn’t want to seem rude. “Uh, yeah. You know him?” You ask reluctantly, not really interested in his reply.

“Yeah, he’s a real suck-up,” McLaggen says as he slowly puts his arm around your shoulder. You hear a large bang behind you, but you ignore it as you try to fight all attempts to push him away. But you’re curious about his answer. He doesn’t seem fooled by Berkshire like everyone else.

“Why do you think that?” Harry replies with a disbelieving look.

“Think about it. He smiles too much and is ‘nice’ to everyone, but he’s a Slytherin,” McLaggen says with his arm still around you. You hear loud stomps behind you, but you pay no attention to it.

“Well, not all Slytherins are the same-” you attempt to say but you’re quickly interrupted by McLaggen.

“They’re Slytherins! They’re all the same. Evil and manipulative. The only reason that Berkshire places in everything is because he’s rich. He probably cheats or sleeps with the professors,” McLaggen laughs at his comment. “Or he probably threatens everyone because his parents are Death Eaters,” McLaggen says with a smug smirk.

The table is quiet and shocked by McLaggen’s bold comments. You stare at McLaggen’s stupid grin and feel something boiling inside you. Meanwhile, the footsteps you heard earlier were now right behind you, but your eyes were focused on McLaggen.

A dark, cold voice behind you speaks up. “McLaggen, get your hands off of Y-”

Slap!

The usual buzz of the Great Hall dissipates. Everyone turns away from their conversations to see you and your hands inches away from McLaggen’s face.

“Y/N? What the fu-”

“Shut up, McLaggen! Just shut! Up! Don’t talk about Enzo! Don’t even say his name! I can’t believe that, out of everyone, you are the one to judge. Do you think you’re better than him? McLaggen, you are slimy, creepy, and disgusting,” you exclaim as you shove him away from you. “Stop talking and stop touching me and LEAVE!”

Your face is burning and your hands are balled into a fist. You can feel everyone staring at you in disbelief - they’ve never seen you so angry before. But you don’t care. You want to do so much more than slap him. You wanted to curse him, to wipe McLaggen’s stupid grin on his face, to make him cry.

McLaggen looks around and sees everyone staring. His face flushes as he tries to compose himself. He then stands up and hovers over you, attempting to seem intimidating and tough. “Y/N, don’t you dare ta-”

Before he can speak further, someone takes his collar and pulls him to the ground, all in one swift motion. You look up to see it was Lorenzo. You’re shocked by his sudden appearance. ‘When did he get here?’ you think to yourself. You then worry if he heard McLaggen’s comment earlier.

Lorenzo looks down at McLaggen with a cold smile. “You heard Y/N. So, get out. Now.”

McLaggens huffs his nose and gets on his feet. He readies himself to fight back, but Harry and Ron stand up from their seats. Then Draco and his friends also stand up from their seats. Seeing this, McLaggen clicks his tongue and turns around in defeat.

The Great Hall remains silent as they watch McLaggen walk towards the door, but as soon as he leaves, they immediately start buzzing about what they just saw.

You turn back to Lorenzo and see he is already looking at you. You analyze his expression, looking for any signs of hurt or anger. Instead, he looked pleased.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” He gives you a warm smile, a smile that he does not show often. Your three friends give a knowing smile at each other, which Lorenzo notices. “Alone,” he adds as he extends his hand to you.

You sheepishly look at your friends before you get up from your seat and take his hands.

***

Not once letting go of your hands, Lorenzo leads you to the nearest empty classroom. As soon as you two enter, he closes the door and turns around to face you.

“Why did you defend me?” He says as he carefully watches your expressions. 

“I-I’m not sure,” you say as you try to avoid his eyes. Along with everyone else in the Great Hall, you were shocked by your own rage. You don’t understand why you got so mad.

“Don’t give me that, Y/N,” he says softly. It surprises you; his voice is usually cold. Too curious about what expression he’s making, you finally look at him.

“Think harder, Y/N,” He gently squeezes your hand which you realize he’s still holding. “Why did you defend me?” His eyes are pleading for something as if he knows something that you don’t.

You think harder about how you felt when McLaggen was talking about Berkshire. Of course, his comments were incredibly disrespectful and disgusting, but was it enough to warrant a slap? Why were you so angry? Were you angry in general or for Lorenzo?

‘Do I like Lorenzo?’ you think to yourself. Yes, he teases you occasionally, but he hasn’t done anything wrong or evil. In fact, he’s hardworking and reliable. Even though he says he manipulates people, he always helps those in need. ‘So maybe I do like him… as a person.’

You look back at Lorenzo, ready to answer properly, but his eyes entrap you. The faint light from the classroom windows hit them just right. His dark brown eyes shined golden. It looked like a warm pool of honey. You always recognized that Lorenzo was handsome, but this was the first time you appreciated it.

‘Oh. I think I like-like him.’ This epiphany shocks you and causes your breath to hitch. Suddenly, you’re conscious of how close you are to Lorenzo and how his hands are so big and warm.

You like Lorenzo. Probably for quite some time now. But could you admit that to him? After all the competition and petty arguments? After all your complaints about him? Would you two even work out?

But then you look back at Lorenzo and realize that, for the first time, he’s being vulnerable to you. His eyebrows are scrunched as his eyes are still pleading for your answer. Suddenly, the pride that you’ve kept for so long was now forgotten.

“I… like you.” You exhaled and felt a sudden weight lifted from your chest. All that’s left is an inexplicable tingling feeling in your stomach.

Soon, his warm body envelops you. He wraps his arms around your waist and nestles his head in your shoulder. 

“Finally,” he says with a delighted chuckle. “I’ve known all along.”

“W-what? How could you have known? I only realized it just now!” You exclaim as you playfully struggle in his grip, but he refuses to let you go.

“Y/N, you’ve always been slow.” You give him a gentle pinch on his side, which makes him laugh. “I’m kidding! I’m sorry. I just…” He trails off as he draws back a little to look straight into your eyes. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Of course, he’s always been one step ahead of you. Even when it’s about your own feelings, he knew about it before you did. You suddenly felt shy from his intense gaze, but you didn’t want to look away.

“...Did you hear what McLaggen said about you?”

“Yes.”

“Were you mad?”

“For a moment… but I was more annoyed that he was touching you.” He gently brushes your hair back from your face. “Do you believe what McLaggen said?”

“Of course not!” You exclaimed as you gently hit his chest. “He’s disgusting and weird. Anything that comes out of his mouth is complete bull crap. Why would you even ask that?” You grumble and slightly pout.

Lorenzo laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry.” His hands drift to the ends of your hair and starts twirling it with his fingers.

“...So, how about you?”

“Hm?” He replies absentmindedly, still focused on your hair. 

“Do you… like me?” You sheepishly ask as you look away and focus on the ground.

Lorenzo gives you a blank stare before roaring into laughter. His laugh shocks you, but it makes you laugh as well. 

“I thought it was quite obvious,” he says as he places a hand on your cheek. He carefully analyzes each feature of your face as if he’s savoring it all in before his eyes flicker at your lips.

“B-but, I didn’t hear you say it.” You say as you notice his stare, causing your breath to hitch. 

“I like you, Y/N.” Lorenzo slowly pulls you in closer and closer until your lips touch his. The feeling is immediate; it’s warm and electrifying. You can hear your heart thumping in your eyes as a strange warmth course throughout your body.

After a few seconds, you both pull away and look at each other in disbelief. It seems that the intense, crashing feelings you felt were mutual. You both laugh when you realize this. 

“That… was something,” Lorenzo says with a smile.

You give him a warm smile before resting your head on his chest. You feel him stiffen in surprise, but he soon relaxes and places his hand on your head, gently combing his fingers through your hair. You smile to yourself when feel his heart beating fast.

“But you should know,” Lorenzo says with a smirk, “that I like you more.”

You abruptly lift your head and give him a look of disbelief. “This isn’t a competition.”

“You only say that because you’re losing,” Lorenze teases with a laugh.

You laugh back and hit him. “Enzo, you get on my nerves!”

Hearing you say his nickname, Lorenzo smiles and a small tint of red appears on his cheek. “Good,” he says as he pulls you in closer, wanting to feel your soft lips on his again. “As long as you don’t get bored of me.” 

***

a/n: my first enzo fanfic! ahhh! it's also my first time writing in second person pov, and it's harder than i thought lol. and sorry to cormac mclaggen! i feel like he's a common antagonist in hp fanfics HAHA. also, i tried making y/n as general as possible so that it can appeal to everyone, but i couldn't help but add in the hair twirling. hair twirling is just so cute to me :')

fun fact! i chose olivia rodrigo's "get him back" as inspo because her lyrics have a double meaning: (1) she wants to get back together with her ex and (2) also get revenge on him. it emphasizes the fine line between love and hate, which i imagine academic rivals feel lol. hope you liked it! <3

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 2 -

Prologue : Chapter 1 : Not edited : 3.4k words : M.List

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

---

-suit colors -can shut my quirk completely off -isn't a piece of shit -password. -others cant turn my shit off either      -katsuki

The note Katsuki left was majority scribbles, clearly written the second he left. You found it right when you were leaving, the crumpled sticky note being placed next to your keys.

Getting the watch set up and made for him would be difficult. Mainly making sure others can't tamper with his quirk. Everything else would be easy. Two weeks tops. Simply needed to take the same material used for his gloves and gauntlets and use it for his watch. The password and personal quirk disabled features would also be easy, just using the same techniques that normal quirk handcuffs use.

When you got to your office you immediately got to work. Drawing up the design and adding in the small details you wanted to add. You went through your email as well, getting the details Izuku sent you about what he wants. Unluckily for him, you would have to order the stuff he needs, everything Katsuki needed was already in the building. His case was personally yours so you saved up any left over materials from his suit. The quirk removing feature would take more time to set up though.

---

"Hey!" someone shouted, tacking your name to the end.

You just entered Katsuki's hero agency for lunch, talking with the sweet old receptionist. Ignoring the shout, you thanked the lady for buzzing you up. Walking over to the elevators and pushing the button to go up.

"Don't ignore me!" The voice whined. You rolled your eyes stepping into the elevator and frantically clicking the button to close the doors.

The doors almost shut completely, a hand stopping it a second to late and getting crushed.

"Fuckin' christ!" You opened the door as quick as you could, trying to make sure they weren't injured. They were doubled over, holding their hand to their chest. "Are you okay?" You asked, grabbing their shoulder to lift them away, attempting to see the injury.

They started shaking and panic ran through you, before you could yell to the receptionist to call paramedics they started laughing. Standing up straight and smiling, placing their 'injured hand' on your shoulder to support their laughter.

"Oh go fuck yourself," you brushed them off. Pressing the elevator open again.

"I'm sorry it was too easy!" He smiled. Moving to stand next to you again.

You ignored him once again. Stepping into the elevator that he unfortunately joined. Looking at the door that previously crushed his hand. "You broke the door," you pointed out, crossing your arms.

"Holy shit, Bakugo is going to kill me," he paled.

"That's what you get for activating your quirk between metal, Kirishima," you commented.

"Ouch, last name?" he feigned pain, clutching a hand to his heart, "Come on, how was I supposed to know?"

You glanced at him briefly, "You nickname your quirk unbreakable, what did you expect?" You deadpanned.

"Not that!"

"Be serious, I know you're not that dumb," you said, stepping out of the elevator at Katsuki's floor. Beginning the path to his office.

"I just wanted to talk to you," he complained, "but you ignored me completely."

"I wonder why."

"Come on," he pleaded, "I said I was sorry."

"Don't care," you knocked on Katsuki's office.

"Please," he begged.

"No."

Just as Kirishima opened his mouth to beg more, Katsuki opened his door. "The fuck are you two bitching about?" Katsuki looked at you for an answer. Which you shrugged and made your way inside. Sitting in his desk chair and sorting through the food he ordered for you two.

Katsuki turned his head to Kirishima, wanting an answer. "She won't talk to me," he pointed at you like a child.

Katsuki turned to you, raising an eyebrow, "Really?"

Before he could start getting to you about acting like a child you pointed back at Kirishima, "He broke your elevator."

He glared at the red head.

"I was just trying to talk to her!"

"And you needed to break my elevator to do that?"

Kirishima paused his comeback, knowing anything he wanted to say would be flawed. You choked back a laugh, cause Katsuki to turn to you.

"Don't act like you're innocent," he pointed, "All ya had to do was to talk him and my door wouldn't be broken."

"Nah, he broke my shit," you shrugged.

"I said I was sorry!"

"Yet now you just broke his shit too," you backed.

"What else did he break?" Katsuki asked.

You pointed towards Kirishima, and his hero outfit, "He broke his shoulder guards, again. I've fixed them five times this month because of the stupid shit he is doing."

"Whatever, out," Katsuki motioned for Kirishima to leave. Which he did, with a pout on his face. Katsuki shut the door and walked over. "Why do you insist on stealing my chair everytime?"

"The other ones aren't comfortable," you answered, handing him his food and opening yours to start eating. "Oh!" You perked up, "I finished the design for your watch, just need everything ordered and I'll start on it."

He took a break from his food, looking up at you, "How long?"

"Shipment should get here in two days, they just had a huge order and have a ton of left overs, so I'm using the stuff they have extras of. Wanna see the design?" You smiled, pulling up a picture on your phone when he nodded.

He looked over the notes you wrote down, zooming in on the smaller details, "looks good."

"Good!" You smiled.

His office door opened, "I forgot, we're having a little get together at Denki's place Saturday," Kirishima smiled before shutting the door again.

"No."

"Come on Kats," you begged, trying to meet his eyes.

"Nuh uh," he took a bite of his food, looking up briefly and meeting your eyes.

"Please! We haven't hung out with them in forever!" You pointed out.

"We hung out last night."

"Yeah, with Z', not with your friends."

"No."

He glared at you until he felt your hand rest on the top of his, "Please?"

"Fuckin' fine," he brushed off your hand and continued eating.

---

"This is lot more then a little get together," Katsuki grumbled right after pushing the door open. Disregarding a knock all together and walking straight in, taking a pause in his step.

You took a glance over his shoulder, since he took up the majority of the small hallway that started off the apartment, seeing the solid twenty or more people that crowded Denki's and Sero's apartment. "It's fine, it's not like we are forced to stay long," you pushed his back lightly, getting him to walk in entirely.

"Kacchan! Surprised you came!" Denki smiled once he saw Katsuki leave the hallway, you stepping out from behind him. "Thanks for dragging him here," Denki came up to you, giving you a one armed hug since his other hand was holding a beer.

"What else am I good for," you joked, "Didn't you say this was a small get together?"

"I was just trying to increase the odds of #2 pro hero coming in," he shrugged, Katsuki shooting him a glare and you a look, saying he wished he never came. "Now make yourselves at home, I gotta make sure Mina doesn't eat all the jello shots."

You watched Denki skip to the kitchen, instantly yelling at a stuffed faced Mina. Looking around the room you saw Sero sitting in a chair with two open spots next to it, turning back to Katsuki, he already knew your look, "Go, I'll get you a drink."

Sero saw you heading his way and gave you a wave. He was sitting in a recliner and had a loveseat spaced next to it. You took the loveseat and leaned on the armrest close to him, kicking your feet unto the other half of the couch to prevent someone stealing Kats spot.

"How's work?" Sero asked once you gave him your attention.

"Good, busy as always. But I've been ahead of the game lately, I think I can start branching out more on my own soon," you smiled.

"Exciting," he smiled, " I see you got the grump outside for once," he nodded to Katsuki, who was being badgered by some of Denki's sidekicks/partners.

You laughed, "Yeah, you're not the first to tell me that tonight, but I'm not surpised. He went out with me last night to Z' as well."

"Did you drug him? I won't snitch."

"No, I think his mom yelled at him or something," you pretended to expose. Hiding the truth behind Katsuki's behavior, which was likely the civilian death he had to deal with recently. "But how's your work?"

"Meh, it's hero work," he drank from his cup, "Recently had to deal with a spider villain so it was weird. It was like fighting myself if I had eight legs and eyes."

The two of you continue to talk about work or recent things between friends. Briefly discussing Kirishima and Mina's budding relationship that's been going on for years. Just before Sero could question your own relationship, Katsuki came back.

"Fuckin' nerds wouldn't leave me alone," he grumbled picking up your legs and sitting on the couch with you, handing you a drink.

"You love the attention," you bumped him with your knee, "and careful, might summon them again."

Casual conversation formed once again, banter between you and Katsuki, and annoyance from him to Sero. On the heated topic of old heroes. With Sero caring less, and just wanting to rile him up.

You smiled along with their conversation, more focus on Katsuki. He's rested into the chair despite being annoyed at the conversation. Having a hand rested on your knee and the other rested on the armrest, holding a low carb beer. Which he took a sip of every once in a while before he had to tell Sero he was wrong again. You admired every move of his, from his sharp jaw, to defined cheekbones, and his bright red eyes. Only stopping when Sero called you out.

"Stop eye fucking in front of me," Sero gagged.

"The fuck?" Katsuki question, not ever aware of what you were doing, "We're not."

"You might not be," Sero smirked.

"Oh fuck you, Sero," you rolled your eyes. Ignoring the blush you felt heating your face.

"Don't push your feelings onto me," Sero teased.

"Oh my god," you groaned, " I give up." Sero crackled as he laughed at you. "Shouldn't you be talking about your dumbass celebrity crush in America?"

"Who's that?" Katsuki questioned, willing to change the topic of conversation again.

"He has a crush on an actor, Ryan Reynolds. The one that reenacts the old anti-hero Deadpool," you informed.

"It's normal in America! Every guy loves him, even the straightest!" Sero defends.

"You do know the murders that Deadpool committed right?" Katsuki questioned, wanting to get on the topic of heroes, a topic he knew everything about.

The debate between whether Deadpool committed crimes for good or not was easily started. Giving yourself another chance to look at Katsuki. Not wanting to be caught you looked at the hand rested on your knee. Reaching out your own hand to trace over his. Soft and smooth from his sweat but rough from the work day. He let his hand lose the soft grip on your knee, letting you hold his entire hand freely. You traced over the rough pads of his fingers that you knew would turn soft again in the morning. Rubbing your thumb over his knuckles and the veins that lined the top of his hand. Remembering how a few years ago he would freak out if you tried to do this exact thing. Only this year has he started to let you hold his hand for longer than five minutes.

Yet he still wasn't perfect. Eventually he pulled his hand from your grip and wiped his hands off on his pants. It seemed like he didn't want your touch on him, it stung. You knew that was unlikely, but the thought couldn't leave your mind. you folded up. Crossing your arms slowly and turning your attention back onto Sero. Which caused his eyes to flicker between you and Katsuki, clearly reading your face. Before he could ask anything, he gave him a slight shake of your head.

Eventually Kirishima dragged Katsuki away from the conversation, wanting him as a partner for cup flipping.

"How come you aren't flirting with girls, Sero?" you asked, used to him normally parading the party rooms for someone to flirt with.

"Denki called dibs on everyone here basically," Sero shrugged. He sat up from his slouched sitting, " Now, what the fuck was that?" Sero motioned from you to where Katsuki was now playing games with Kirishima.

Play dumb.

"Whatcha mean?" you took a sip of your drink.

"Don't play that shit with me, He pulled away from you completely," he pointed out.

"I know, he always does that," you pointed out, wanting to stress that this wasn't a big deal.

"Always? You're kidding"

"Nope," you took a sip, "He's actually improved."

"You're saying it used to be worse," His jaw basically dropped.

"It's Katsuki you're talking about right now," you deadplanned, "Speaking of which, we never talked about this. He doesn't know it bugs me and he doesn't need to."

"Yes he does," Sero stressed.

"No he doesn't," you hissed, " I don't want him knowing. It's fine."

"Come on-"

"Sero, stop."

Before he could push forward someone entered your peripheral, standing in front of Katsuki's spot. Turning your head towards him you gave a guarded smile.

"This seat takin?" he somewhat slurred.

"Yeah it-"

"Kidding! I know it's not. No one has sat here for a good 10 minutes from what I've seen," The guy plopped down on the couch, giving you barely enough time to kick your feet off the couch and scoot over the crowd the armrest into order to not touch the guy. You and Sero shared a look. "So, what's a girl like you doing here alone," The guy smiled, slapping a hand down on your thigh to gain your attention back from Sero.

"I'm not alone?" you peeled his hand from your thigh, dropping it back onto his lap, "I was actually just talk to my friend here abo-"

He put his hand back on your thigh, "I was asking why you had no boyfriend here, you're so pretty."

"I do have one-" you tried to cut in.

"I'll be your boyfriend, names Mason," he smiled weirdly.

Once again, you peeled his hand off your leg, "No thanks."

"Is it cause the name? I'm from America, I'm not lying about my name to sound cool," he hurried out, replacing his hand on your thigh.

"Trust me, I know you're not trying to sound cool," you spoke out disgust, "Now could you please not?" Sero and you shared another look, his asking if he should step in, but you shook your head. You could handle this just fine.

He pondered for a moment, "It's cause you don't know me right? Well, I'm from America. Here to learn about the Japanese heroes-"

"Dude," you cut him off, "I could give less of a fuck, please leave me alone."

"Don't play hard to get," he grabbed onto your leg harder.

Just before Sero jumped in-

"I leave for five fucking minutes," Katsuki spits out.

The guy looked over the back of the couch, "Sorry, did you plan to make a move? I swung first sorry dude, better luck next time."

"No, I fuckin' plan to swing first on the dude that's holding onto my fuckin' girlfriend."

You took the opportunity of the guy being distracted to get his hands off you, and to leave the couch.

"Hey, babe don't leave yet, the guys just being an ass, he'll leave soon," the creep called out to you.

Everyone's attention was on the guy now. Staring at him baffled that he called #2 pro hero an ass right in front of him and his girlfriend. You stepped closer to Sero, prepared for what was about to happen.

"That's it," Katsuki grabbed the hair on the back of the guys head and yanked him down. Couch flipping over with the guy. A quick stomp on the dude stomach had him rolling over in enough pain.

"My couch!" Denki yelped.

"Fuck your couch and fuck your party," Katsuki walked up to you, grabbed your hand and pulled you to leave.

"Gimme a second, I want to say bye," you tugged on his hold when he got to the hallway that lead to the front entrance.

He looked at you baffled, "You just got felt up, they could care less if you said bye right now."

"Kats, I'm fine. I would of handled it if you didn't."

"Fine, say bye," he waved you off, crossing his arms and guarding the exit.

You walked up to where Kirishima, Sero, and Denki were standing watching drunk Mina lecture the creep.

"Hey, I'm heading out," you spoke from behind them, getting their attention.

"That's fine girl, Imma kick his ass more for you," Mina slurred as she jumped to hug you, almost knocking you off your feet. She pulled back from the hug and held onto your shoulders, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded, getting her out of your hold and pushing her into Kirishima, "Make sure she doesn't do something stupid."

"I will, I'll deal with the guy too. What he did was fucking gross," you flinched, it was rare to hear Kirishima curse.

"I bet you will," laughed off. Hugging Sero and thanking Denki for inviting you, all of them double checking if you were okay. It warmed your heart that they were heroes, it was truly the right career. So after confirming that you were fine, you walked back to Katsuki.

"Done?"

"Yep," you put your shoes back on and left the apartment together.

Once in his car, Katsuki turned to you. "You sure you're okay? I'll go put the guy in fucking jail."

You laughed, "I'm fine, Kirishima has it handled."

"You sure?"

"It's not the worst thing a guy has said to me," you shrugged, "Can we get some fast food?"

"The fuck else has a guy said to you?"

"Nothing important Kats, can we drop it? I'm fine."

He eyed you warily, trying to find the correct way to go about this. He sighed and gave in, "What fast food?"

"I don't know, I want a shake."

---

The two of you got the food and cozied on your couch, digging in once you had a random Netflix movie playing. With half of your attention on the movie, and half on the situation, you decided to bring it up. "Is it weird that what the guy did doesn't bug me much?"

Katsuki glance your way, "No? Everyone has different reactions to everything."

"The main thing that bugs me is that people can't tell we are dating, like ever," you said honestly. "Like the dude didn't buy I had a boyfriend in general."

He hummed in reply.

"Our own friends forget half the time, like I wish they knew we were together, and took my word for it," you sighed.

"I know how you feel," Katsuki looked down at his hands, that held his half eaten burger.

"Even you feel that way?" you grabbed a couple fries to eat.

He looked at you, "The other night with that Nana girl, just wished it was more obvious."

"We can't blame them though, it's not like we act like a traditional couple," you shrugged and took a sip of your shake.

"Sorry," shame filled his voice.

You turned to him with you're full attention, "Why are you sorry? You haven't done anything?

"That's the issue," he crossed his arms," I don't do anything, I fucking brush you off me," he dropped his arms again. resting them on his knees and putting his face in his hands.

"Hey," you reached for his shoulder. Stopping when he flinched away from you, "Sorry," you mumbled. Forgetting he hates being sneaked up on or touched when he isn't paying attention.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about, I don't do anything but pull away from you. And you're honestly telling me you're fucking happy in this relationship?" Katsuki looked at you. Getting up to pace when you just stared at him, confused by his outburst.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him pace the room.

He paused, "Why wouldn't I be? You give me everything I need. I don't even fucking acknowledge your primary love language while you hit every goal of mine."

"Kats, what I said to the girls the other night is the truth, I'm okay with it. The things you need are just as important, and if that's to not touch, that's fine."

"Fucking bullshit-"

"Katsuki," you said his name sharply, "I mean it."

"I don't know how-"

"That doesn't matter, you're worried I'm unhappy and I'm telling you that I am happy. Because I am, now can we please not get into this right now? Tonight already hasn't gone well."

"Fuck, you're right, I'm sorry," he rubbed his hands over his face and went back to his spot of the couch. leaving his food half touched. He opened his arms, "You can lay on me if you want."

"Katsuki, I told you, no physical touch is-"

"That's not what I'm getting at, c'mere," he motioned towards himself. And who were you to refuse, quickly curling up into his side and watching a movie to wash the bad day off you're mind.

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

[i2sunric]

𝗙𝗔𝗗𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨 (l.hs)

right person, wrong time.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: idol!heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: when you were a child, you had always believed your life was a fairytale, but as you grew up you realised it was just a childish thought. because your story didn’t end with happily ever after.

WARNINGS: heartbreak, break up, heeseung barely has time for reader, he’s a little in denial, reader tries to be strong for the both of them, angst, established relationship, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 20th November 2024

WC: 3.1k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @senascoooop @mitmit01 (project) @whateverhoon

NOW PLAYING: Fade Into You by Mazzy Star

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you entered the quaint café tucked into the corner of the bustling city street.

It was your sanctuary on most days—a place where time slowed down, where you could read in peace.

When your college life got a little too stressful, you liked to give yourself an afternoon of rest, where you could read and just look at all the people around you, while also enjoying a cup of coffee.

The soft hum of conversation and the occasional clink of porcelain cups created a soothing symphony that you had come to associate with comfort.

But today, your usual spot by the window was taken.

Your eyes landed on the stranger sitting there, his face buried in a notebook.

His sharp features were softened by the sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating his messy, dark hair. He looked completely engrossed in whatever he was working on, his pen flying across the page with an intensity that piqued your curiosity. Like he was creating a masterpiece.

But whatever he was doing didn’t matter, since he was sitting in your usual spot. Even the owner knew you always sat there and sometimes left you encouraging notes.

Reluctantly, you found another seat, tucked in the corner, and tried to focus on your book. Nonetheless your gaze kept drifting back to him.

There was something magnetic about the way he existed in his own little world, his brow furrowing as he worked, his lips occasionally quirking up in a small smile as if he were amusing himself with his thoughts.

He was truly enchanting in his whole being.

When he finally looked up, your eyes met. You froze, caught in the act of staring, but instead of looking annoyed, he smiled—wide and genuine, as if he’d just caught an old friend sneaking glances at him.

You unconsciously frowned and averted your gaze, feeling awkward.

Though, you glanced at him again with the former of your eye, “You can sit here if you want,” he called out, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

Caught off guard, you hesitated a little before grabbing your coffee and book, making your way over. “Thanks,” you murmured, settling into the seat.

You melted into the seat right away, loving the feeling of familiarity. You didn’t particularly enjoy your routine being messed up.

“No problem,” he said, closing his notebook but leaving his pen resting on top. “I always feel bad taking up spots when it’s this busy.”

You glanced down at the notebook, curious but polite enough not to ask. “You looked pretty focused,” you said. “Are you a writer?”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Kind of, I write music.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Really? That’s impressive.”

He laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Most of the time, I’m just scribbling nonsense and hoping something good comes out of it.”

“Still,” you said, “It takes a lot of creativity to do that. I can barely write an email without second-guessing myself.”

He grinned. “It’s not about perfection, it’s about letting yourself be…” he pointed at himself “messy.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly from there. You learned his name— Lee Heeseung —and that he was a dreamer through and through. He talked about his music with a passion that lit up his eyes, about the things he wanted to create and the places he wanted to see.

You found out that he was preparing a song to audition at a famous local music label, hoping to become a trainee and debut later on.

It was impressive, how he was young yet so engrossed in his dream. It made you a little jealous, too.

“I think life is about chasing what makes you feel alive,” he said at one point, his gaze distant as if he were imagining it all. Picturing his future together.

You couldn’t help but smile, though your own perspective was far more grounded. “I think life is about appreciating the small things,” you countered. “Like this coffee, or a really good book.”

You tapped your nails on the mug, “Chasing big dreams is great, but if you’re always looking ahead, you miss what’s right in front of you.”

Heeseung tilted his head, considering your words. “I guess I never thought about it that way,” he admitted. “But doesn’t staying still scare you? Like you’re missing out on something bigger?”

“And doesn’t constantly moving forward scare you?” you shot back. “Like you’re missing what’s already here?”

He laughed, the sound warm and light. “Touché. I think we might be complete opposites.”

“Maybe,” you said with a small smile. “But opposites can complement each other, right?”

He smiled back, and in that moment, something shifted between you. It was as if the universe had nudged you toward each other, two different pieces of the same puzzle finally fitting together.

It didn’t take much for the two of you to levitate closer, to the point of going from casual reading-writing hangouts to dates.

Fitting both of your schedules was difficult, but those little hours you spent together were worth it all.

It was one of the rare days where Heeseung was free from any training sessions, and instead of getting his much needed rest, he decided to spend his afternoon with you

Despite nagging at him for his lack of self-care, you were secretly glad he was making time for you, even if it was just for a couple of hours.

The sun was high in the sky, its golden rays filtering through the trees as you and Heeseung lay on the grass in the park.

A blanket was spread out beneath you, scattered with remnants of your picnic, empty containers, a couple of soda cans, and a half-eaten bagel. All the strawberries had been eaten, though.

Heeseung was strumming his guitar lazily, the soft melody weaving through the air. You were lying on your back, staring up at the clouds, feeling the kind of peace that only came from moments like this—unhurried, unplanned, perfect in their simplicity.

“Look,” you said, pointing to a fluffy cloud drifting overhead. “Doesn’t that one look like a cat?”

Heeseung stopped playing and tilted his head, squinting at the sky. “A cat? No way. That’s totally a dragon.”

You laughed, nudging him with your foot. “You’re just saying that because you like dragons.”

“And you’re just saying cat because you’re obsessed with them,” he teased, leaning back on his elbows to look at you. “Admit it, I’m right.”

“Never,” you said with a grin, sticking out your tongue.

Heeseung set his guitar aside and rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he looked at you. “You’re so stubborn,” he said, but there was no annoyance in his voice—only affection.

“Someone has to keep you on your toes,” you quipped, your smile softening under his gaze.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You know,” he said quietly, “I think this might be my favourite day ever.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you couldn’t help but smile. “It’s just a picnic,” you said, trying to downplay the fluttering in your chest.

“It’s not just a picnic,” he said, his voice serious now. “It’s this. Being here with you, doing nothing, and feeling like it’s everything.”

It was true that song writers had their way with words.

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Heeseung, the grass beneath you, the sky above, and the quiet certainty that this was where you were meant to be.

You climbed onto his lap, sneaking in between his chest and his guitar.

“Teach me how to play it,” You said, which sounded so silly. You didn’t even know how to read notes, so you were a lost cause.

But you wanted to spend time with him, doing something he liked— so, you placed your fingers on the cords.

Heeseung smiled and placed his slender ones over yours, guiding your hand to create a melody.

“Middle finger here.” He whispered, his hand moving your fingers “Index here, and with the other hand you…” He stroked your fingers on the cords.

You giggled happily “It sounded good.” You tried to do it again and again, until he showed you all the notes and melodies. Until the sun lowered, leaving a magenta and pinkish sky behind.

“I’ll be busy for a while.” He announced as he put his guitar back in its folder “I- uh, I have just one more month until I know if I’m in the debut group.”

You widened your eyes at the information, a warm feeling in your belly “Hee… that���s amazing.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

Like the habit of a lifetime, his arms held your waist, his face burying in the crook of your neck.

“We might have less time together,” He murmured, his nose brushing your jaw, the sensation causing goosebumps to prickle your skin.

“We’ll figure it out, yeah?” You said, holding his face in your hands “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

Your words caused a childlike smile to spread on his lips, and just a couple of seconds later, they crashed on yours.

You drowned in the feeling of him, so sweet and intoxicating.

“I love you.” Heeseung repeated those three words like a mantra “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” You replied, being so close to him even if it didn’t feel close enough “I always will.”

The café had always been your place. The corner table by the window where sunlight streamed in during the mornings and rain traced delicate patterns on the glass during stormy afternoons. It was where you and Heeseung had spent countless hours together—talking, laughing, and dreaming of a future that now felt so far away.

It hadn’t changed. The same rustic charm, the same scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries, the same corner table by the window. You almost smiled as you stepped inside, but the weight in your chest reminded you why you were here.

The café hadn’t changed, but today, the warmth of those memories was overshadowed by the tension that hung between you like a storm cloud, ready to burst. Just like the one outside.

Heeseung was already waiting, his tall frame hunched slightly over his coffee. His fingers fidgeted with the rim of the cup, a nervous habit you recognized instantly. He didn’t look up when the bell over the door chimed. You wondered if he was gathering his thoughts just as you were.

For a moment, you stood frozen, debating whether to walk back out and pretend you hadn’t come. Pretend nothing was wrong and it was all just a bad dream.

That you’d wake up in his arms again, with his messy hair and soothing voice, reminding you how fortunate he was to have someone like you.

But then his head lifted, and his eyes found yours. A small, uncertain smile tugged at his lips, and despite everything, it made your heart ache.

“Hey,” he greeted as you approached, his voice soft but strained.

“Hi,” you replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

Up close, you noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually bright demeanor seemed dimmed, weighed down by the invisible tension between you. You wondered if you looked the same.

Heeseung shifted in his seat, his fingers still fidgeting. “Thanks for coming,” he said after a moment.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen this coming. The late-night texts that dwindled into silence. The calls that went unanswered. The months of trying to hold on, even as the cracks in your relationship grew deeper.

“How’s… everything?” you asked, though you weren’t sure you wanted the answer.

Heeseung hesitated, his gaze dropping. “Busy,” he admitted. “Rehearsals, schedules… you know how it is.”

Yes, because Heeseung had managed to debut, and his group had a large audience, growing famous even overseas. It was a surprise he came in a public place, without something to cover himself with.

You nodded again, the lump in your throat growing. Of course, you knew. His career had always been demanding, and you’d tried so hard to understand, to support him even when it meant putting your own needs aside.

But you were tired. Tired of being a second choice, tired of all the dates where he stood you up, all the excuses.

You needed stability in your life, and Heeseung couldn’t give you that. Not anymore.

“I missed you.” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Your breath hitched. “I missed you too.”

You tried to focus on the rain outside, but the sound of his quiet sigh brought your attention back to him. His usually bright eyes were clouded, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on both of you.

“This isn’t how I thought it would go,” his voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if speaking the words aloud might make them more real.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your cup. “Neither did I,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

The truth was, you had both tried—tried to hold on, to make it work despite the endless obstacles. His chaotic schedule, your demanding responsibilities, the miles that always seemed to stretch too far between you. But no matter how much love there was between you, reality had a way of tearing at the seams.

“I feel like I’m failing you,” Heeseung said, his voice trembling slightly. He looked up at you, his expression a mixture of guilt and heartbreak. “Like I can’t give you what you need, no matter how much I want to.”

Your chest tightened at his words. “You’re not failing me,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Heeseung, you’ve always given me everything you could. But maybe… maybe it’s just not enough anymore.”

The admission hung heavy in the air, and you hated yourself for saying it. But it was the truth. Love wasn’t supposed to feel this hard, was it?

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired—tired in a way that went beyond the late nights and endless rehearsals. “I thought love was supposed to be enough,” he murmured, echoing your thoughts.

You wanted to reach out, to take his hand and tell him that it was enough. That he was enough. But deep down, you both knew that wasn’t true.

“It’s not about love,” you said quietly. “It’s about timing. And right now… it feels like the world is against us.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to the table. “So what are you saying?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You hesitated, your heart breaking as you forced yourself to say the words. “I’m saying that maybe we need to let each other go.”

His head shot up, his eyes wide and filled with a pain that mirrored your own. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “We can figure this out. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? We can keep trying.”

But the desperation in his voice only made it harder. You had been trying for so long, and the effort had left you both exhausted. “Heeseung,” you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “What if trying is what’s hurting us?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Heeseung’s hands tightened into fists, his knuckles turning white. “This isn’t fair,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you. I love you more than anything, and it’s not fair that we have to end like this.”

You reached out then, your hand covering his. His skin was warm, but the touch felt fleeting, like trying to hold onto sand slipping through your fingers. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough to fix everything. It’s better if we let go.”

Heeseung’s head shook, his eyes wide and filled with a mix of disbelief and hurt. “You don’t mean that,” he said, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to mean it,” you said, your voice breaking. “But we’re tearing ourselves apart trying to hold on, Heeseung. And I don’t want us to end up resenting each other because of it.”

His hand tightened around yours, his grip almost desperate. “I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice trembling. “You’re the one thing that keeps me grounded. I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The rain outside grew heavier, the sound filling the empty space between you.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Heeseung said suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. “And the thought of not having you in my life… I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with that.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and you quickly wiped them away. “You’ll be okay and so will I,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “And maybe someday… when the timing is right, we’ll find our way back to each other.”

Heeseung let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening around yours. “Someday,” he repeated, though the word felt more like a wish than a promise.

You stayed like that for a moment, holding onto each other as if the world might stop if you let go. But eventually, you pulled away, your heart breaking as you stood.

“I’ll always love you,” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the rain.

Heeseung looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll always love you too.”

And with that, you turned and walked out into the storm, the sound of the rain mixing with the quiet sobs you could no longer hold back.

You didn’t look back, afraid that if you did, you might never be able to leave. But even as you walked away, you carried him with you—his voice, his laughter, his love.

It wasn’t the ending you wanted. But not all the stories ended happily ever after.

[tales-from-elysivm]

★。／ falling in love with you ＼。★

ask: this was a request! but I can't find the ask on my old blog, but I do know that it was a quirkless!assistant!reader with midoriya, todoroki, bakugo, shinso, monoma, and kendo. I did cut off monoma and kendo since I feel like I don't know enough about their characters, if that's ok!

pairing: midoriya x gn! reader, todoroki x gn! reader, bakugo x gn! reader, shinso x gn! reader (separate)

fandom: boku no hero academia

word count: 3,722

tw: none, wholesome fluff with some swearing on bakugo's section

notes: this had taken a really long time on my original blog, so im happy to finally be able to share it, if you're from my OG blog, and you were waiting, im sorry it took so long! and since I can't get back into my old blog anymore (I lost the password), please resubmit your asks at anytime and ill try to get to them asap!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

~the meeting~

You’re first introduced to Class 1A/1B as a stand-in for a sparring partner in hand-to-hand combat. It was better - in Aizawa’s opinion - for you to brush up on your skills while also putting his students in a more hands-on approach to learning. You stand before the class, ready. 

You challenge whoever is confident with their skills so far to come forward and fight you. Over your shoulder, Aizawa stands huddled in his sleeping bag. He isn’t too worried, he trusts your abilities to handle his class, and besides, you needed to grow to tolerate them quickly.

None of the students wanted to fight you at first.

There was at least one of their close friends that teased them because they had noticed you staring at them out of all the other blue-clad students. So, of course, to avoid further embarrassment, they step forward to be the first example.

The rules are simple. No quirks. Just simple hand-to-hand. The first to pin the opponent for at least half a minute is the winner of the exercise.

I. midoriya 

~ after the meet ~

Izuku really didn’t want to fight you

He didn’t know your strengths, your weaknesses, your quirk, your skill set, how powerful it was versus what it looked like, etc. (cue the nerdy rambling). He had no notes on you!

Izuku had seen you in class every once in a while when he wasn’t busy. You sat by the teacher’s desk grading papers and sometimes assisting Aizawa by running errands or taking over while he took a nap on the floor. But based on your stature and appearance and the fact you were wearing a school uniform, you seemed to be a student as well.

That leads to plenty of interesting theories about you!

“I think they’re a villain!” Kaminari said light-heartedly. It sounded like a rather malicious thing to suggest, Izuku thought, despite his wider grin. “In like… a rehab program or something.”

“Why would they send a villain to a school for a rehab program though?” Iida pulls his drink from his mouth. “It’d be much more likely they be put on community service or in more safe environments.”

Izuku looks across at you.

You’re sitting away from the teachers at the moment, trading notes with a girl in class 2C, laughing as you both scribble away and discuss some class that he can’t quite hear. You wave her off before moving down the table to another group who are slurping ramen over a table full of messy textbooks and broken pens. Izuku knew these kids to cause enough trouble for everyone, but they push aside their bowls and utensils and kick off their bags so they can let you sit with them. 

Hm.

Have you always looked so pretty from this far away?

~ falling in love with you ~

My boy falls hard and fast… save him…

Izuku always pays attention during a class, but he always tries to pay a little more attention when it’s you that’s teaching <3

After assisting Aizawa for a few weeks into the term, Momo asked who you were. In all the “excitement” of having to shephard a class of hormonal superheroes around, you had forgotten to introduce yourself!

He pulls out his hero notebook and begins taking detailed notes on you

[Y/N L/N], your power stats and small doodles of you in the bottom corner. Some more detailed, some awfully sketchy, but he never feels he got it quite right

Aizawa pats your head and dismisses you from your teaching duty for the day

For the rest of the class you resign yourself to your desk and join the students in learning the next emergency protocol

He thinks you might be looking away when he glances at you

Are you looking at him too?

You’ve ruined him, he’d swear on it. He can’t help it, just by looking at you. The swell of your hips when he can see you walking in front or behind him, the way your eyes light up if he even gains the confidence to talk about his hero notebooks with you, the little shocks he gets when your knees touch on the floor of his dorm room. Or maybe he finds you distracting in some way? Your voice drags him from each lecture, even if it’s not aimed at him. Your smile lures him in. He’s sure you have to have a quirk somehow, hidden there that you haven’t told him about yet.

Do you find him as distracting as he finds you?

Among his many nervous habits, a new one is born. What is it? Well, drawing you in his notebook. 

It’s during one of these very creepy-sounding moments that he remembers he never actually asked you what your quirk was. Nor had he seen it in action before

Other people had wondered about it before, but no one had an answer

So he asks you

You laugh.

It’s almost shocked, but partly sad. You tell him, quite simply, that you’re quirkless. And that Aizawa gave you the position in 1A because you were willing to become a teaching assistant on the side. Though you suspect it’s favouritism, he wants you to have a good education, UA is a nice place, he’ll be close by in case any shit goes down. 

If anything Izuku falls even more in love with you. Hearing you ramble with him about your favourite heroes, how you want to be your own hero even if you can’t do the same things as they can, and you’re still here talking to him.

You’re one of the first people he tells about All Might passing on his quirk to him. He’s worried you might be envious of it, or hate him for lying his way into UA, but you beam at him and assure him he’ll be the best Number One Hero you’ve ever seen.

Yeah, he’s definitely fallen a bit harder, if the sweaty palms and nervous heart skip is enough to go off of.

~ fighting for your attention ~

Now imagine this poor, sweet, innocent broccoli-head of a boy finally falling in love with you! He’s smitten with you

But now he’s watching you interact with his classmates interact with you a little more closely

He doesn’t mind of course, he knows everyone loves your personality and just the feeling you give off. It makes them feel warm and safe and you being quirkless limits any sense of a threat to those who are more sceptical

What he doesn’t like is that he knows some of them fancy you

Some of them love you

He begins studying harder, training harder, works out more so he can make sure he can hear your sweet praises and warming smiles

Any “good job!” and “i’m so proud!” you can offer him is cherished. He cherishes you

So he gathers his courage to try harder just for you, so you can think of him as your number one hero!

Now the only question is; do you cherish him?

K. bakugo

~ after the meet ~

An unbridled opportunity to inflict pain on an (admittedly) attractive stranger?

Fuck yeah

Quirk or no quirk, he was going to absolutely destroy you. He was sure of it!

Shitty hair said you looked oddly familiar, but who cares?

Katsuki had seen you around in the dormitory building, of course, he never paid you much attention. You were wearing a uniform, so he guessed you were a student. He thought you were boring. 

Pretty, but boring. 

Not that he was looking, shut up–

Maybe if he kicks your ass a bit he’ll stop getting so distracted

Or…:

Are you fucking kidding?

You kicked his ass! Barely breaking a sweat! 

One minute he’s preparing to just kick you in the gut and land a right hook to your face, but then he steps into the field where white lines have been drawn and you smile at him. You wish him good luck and bow before getting into a fighting stance. 

He draws a blank after that. Sure, he lands the first kick, but gets your thigh instead so you skid across the pitch. Then you effortlessly sidestep his next swing and he just wants to blast your face off in embarrassment.

Then, most painful of all, you punch him right in the gut and kick him until he’s down. 

He’s butt-hurt, as expected and refuses to even look at you.

Shitty hair slaps his shoulder and laughs as he joins the rest of the class. You brush dust off your uniform and prepare to fight Mina next. 

“That was something huh?” Kaminari jests, snickering. “I should’ve gotten that on camera.”

Katsuki decides just then that he’s going to make your life hell for what you’ve done.

~ falling in love with you ~

He’s not falling in love with you, shut up-

Ok so he’s a grouchy boy anyway right so of course he’s not going to admit it as quick as the others 

In fact he makes it a goal in life to annoy you enough until you hate his guts, then he might feel better about wanting to grind your face into the pavement 

He kicks your chair out when you go to sit so you slam into the floor, shut the door to the classroom in your face, shoves you in hallways at every chance he gets, and even becomes so petty he begins stealing your favourite snacks and drinks out of the fridge and cupboards 

Smug bastard even devours them in front of you just so you know that it was him 

He hates them but that doesn’t stop him! 

And - as much as he doesn’t want to admit it - he kinda hates the small flicker of disappointment that flutters behind your eyes before you offer to go on a snack-run for everyone on your way 

Dammit!

He makes it sound like your idea that he stalks alongside you to the grocery store.

“You’d probably get lost if someone wasn’t around to hold your hand,” he’d mock you. If you inquire if he’d hold your hand around the store, he’ll definitely leave you behind. Don’t tempt him. And if you laugh he’ll walk back to the dorms and leave your ass to wonder where he went, searching through aisles for him. He knows you would.

Begrudgingly, he knows somewhere in him won’t let him abandon you there. What part? No idea but he hates it. 

Which is why he is now escorting you on the seventh snack-run of the month. You push the trolley around because even with all your begging he won’t do it. Shopping list in hand you throw in bags of snacks and surprise treats for your classmates.   

You have everything stacked up now. Popcorn for movie nights, and each person’s specific sweets, but instead of heading towards the cashiers, you’re turning towards the scoop-and-weigh section. 

“Oi, dumbass!” Bakugo doesn’t follow after you at first, and he doesn’t care that people are turning to stare at him. “Cash register is that way!”

“I know that.” You smile and disappear behind the aisle. He really has no choice but to drag his feet to follow. When he comes around the side you’re scooping a bag full of honey-roasted almonds - ones he knows you hate but his mouth waters at. 

“What are you getting those for?” He curses how soft his voice is now, but he can’t help but wonder why you’re buying them now.

“They’re your favourite, right?” You respond.

“Yeah?” How did you even know that?

You must be reading his mind with some hidden quirk or something, because you quickly explain that you had questioned Kirishima about the hidden stash in the cupboards one time and he had told you almost immediately. So, why not grab some more when you noticed that his stash was getting low?

Without letting him answer you walk past him to the checkouts. He watches after you, mouth dry. He can’t even think of an insult for you right now.

Fuck!

~ fighting for your attention ~

He still won’t admit it to himself so don’t expect a massive, dramatic confession from him (…yet)

No, he’s willing to fight anyone and everyone who wants your affections from the sidelines 

Someone looks at you a little too long? (Punch them)

Someone touches your shoulder during a PE class? (Make their life hell)

Deku asks for your help on an essay and you respond with an all-sweet smile that just rubs him the wrong way? (Kill him - but not actually)

Jealousy is a dangerous game for Katsuki 

(He’s not jealous don’t even ask—)

He’s willing to completely flip the tables so that maybe you’d notice that something’s different: he doesn’t kick your chair out anymore, or eat your snacks, or try to fight you in the hallways 

Instead he does all of that for pretty much everyone else—with exceptions for Kirishima of course 

Anything so he can deny that he’s gone the slightest bit soft for you when you both sit in the common room and eat your respective snacks, talking about some annoying classmate that had pissed him off for the fourth time that day 

And god dammit, won’t you just notice that he appreciates you? 

S. todoroki

~ after the meet ~

Now, my first question is, is it vague curiosity or a drive to urge his strength forward that makes Shoto fight you?

It’s the strength training, he reasons

He doesn’t need it of course, he’s capable enough, but that doesn’t stop him from arguing with himself that that could be the only reason

And no, it’s definitely not because he can see you giving him a curious look over the heads of his classmates, and certainly, not because Kaminari gives him a knowing grin because even he can see you staring at him

So he puts himself forward as a volunteer

For the training… sure

Even after you lose to Todoroki he’s courteous about it. You both bow out of respect and he rejoins the line. After that he doesn’t expect to see you very much after that, perhaps never again. He thinks, despite the theories, you might be a student-teacher from a different academy.

But no, the next week you show up to their regular classes. And not long after that, you’re both working on group and pair projects together.

Like today, it’s theory. Emergency Evacuation in a Disaster. You pick some form of ‘emergency’ and then plot out an essay with detailed instructions for evacuation for the project. Simple. You pick a disaster and begin the essay.

You ask him questions in between, just general small talk, asking how his day is and the like. But he appreciates it. He knows that you know who he is and yet you just ask him normal questions. (Let’s say this is before his arc to make friends.)

You praise him for his strength in your battle and it makes his heart pound. Is he sick? What does this mean? 

What do you mean when you say you like his company? How does he get you to stop? He doesn’t like not being in control of how his heart is beating.

~ falling in love with you ~

I don’t think that originally it would be obvious to you that he fancies you

He’d be courteous at first, hold the door for you, compliment things about you, pull out your chair or save you a seat at lunch, it’s simple little things

You don’t notice of course, you just think he’s being nice

But to literally everyone else, it’s so obvious to them that he’s already completely smitten with you. He barely talks to anyone else… and yeah he doesn’t talk much with you either but he tolerates your company more than others

And he’s a gentleman so why would he outright say anything?

(That’s the reason and not that he’s afraid to, yeah totally-)

So instead he sits and listens to your conversations 

It’s not your fault he’s having a bad day, but at the moment he’s giving the cold shoulder to everyone in 1-A. 

That doesn’t stop you from dragging your chair up to his small desk during your break and eating there with him. He doesn’t tell you to leave, because he doesn’t think he can. He just watches you pull out utensils and begin to eat. He hasn’t even bothered with his own food, he can feel a pit swallowing his stomach, like he couldn’t cram anything in there if he wanted to.

“Bad day?” you ask, like you couldn’t already tell. “Don’t wanna talk about it?”

He nods at you. He can’t lie. And he sure as hell can’t ignore you.

“I understand,” you give a thoughtful hum, eating a bite of your food. “My day was pretty crappy too. It gets like that sometimes, you just gotta keep going. You can’t stop living just because your head’s a bit heavy.”

He didn’t ask for your advice, and maybe before that would’ve bothered him that you didn’t stop talking, but now he can’t find it in him to be frustrated. His annoyance deflates at your presence. You radiate this homely comfort he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Shoto goes through the effort of pulling out his food, just so you might feel better about it.

He forces out the words;

“And your day? Tell me about it… please.”

~ fighting for your attention ~

Now shoto is less likely to actually try and confront others about their shared affections

In fact in normally takes him a good while to officially realise that he loves you

But pretty soon he just begins to seek you out more

As he grows more social, earns new friends and becomes accustomed to everyone, you work with him closely to help him learn social cues and overcome his trauma

He comes to like touching you, whether it be a hand on his head, touching knees in the dorms, a simple hug, or you leaning on him until you fall asleep on him during the winter. He feels comfortable with you

But with this realisation comes one more;

He wonders if he could handle going back to living without you

H. shinso

~ after the meet ~

Now, shinso’s quirk is pretty hard to implement in a fight, which is why he mainly prefers hand-to-hand

Overall, he feels tired, if not a little bored, by the spar with you

He hadn’t noticed you at all before this lesson in 1C, but his teacher had said that you were helping by moving down from 1A

Why, he couldnt figure out

But nonetheless, he finds you watching him while waiting to spar you in your first physical education class together, so he volunteers

And he quickly gets disqualified– 

He swears he doesn’t mean to, but almost as soon as he begins the fight, you overwhelm him.

What you lack in a visible quirk, you make up for in speed, kicking and jabbing and ducking away before he can get a hit in. It’s when he finds you hovering over his shoulder, about to throw a punch to his face, that he panics and asks for your name.

A bit confused, slowing down a little bit, you give it to him, and almost as quickly, you’re under his control. The teacher immediately barks at him to release his control, and he obliges, but he’s still disqualified and you’re given an instant win. When you stumble, regaining your own self-control, you look up at him in bemusement. 

But you don’t look scared at all, instead you smile at him.

“Brainwashing? That’s a pretty cool quirk, huh?”

You confuse him, and he’s not sure if he likes it yet. 

~ falling in love with you ~

After you move down to 1C to work on your General Hero courses, you begin to grow closer with Shinso 

You don’t think that his quirk is any different to the others at UA, which he is somewhat confused by

‘Some of these guys can set people on fire! Brainwashing doesn’t sound too different to the others you see here’, was your only explanation whenever he asked about it

Overtime, you become one of his only friends in 1C, he tolerates you

He spends most of his time with you, studying, eating, talking, he helps you write papers on general hero practices, telling you about his history with children being scared of his ‘villain quirk’

All things considered, he trusts you, and i dont think he could say that for many other people at UA

You both sit cross-legged on the floor of his dorm room. He very rarely decorates it, but you begged him to let you set up the fairy lights and little cat decals that were meant for his wall. Begrudgingly, he agreed.

So that’s what you’ve been doing, arranging kitties on the wall over his desk. Cute little art pieces that resemble grey and calico cats. 

Meanwhile, he’s studying on his floor, laying back and occasionally sneaking glances at you to see if you’re tangled in the lights. Soon enough you have them strung up nicely in the corners of his dorm-room, sending soft gold light over his purple hair. He doesn’t move until you lay on the floor beside him, looking up at the ceiling.

“What do you think?” you ask, leaning up on your elbows to admire your handiwork.

He’s quiet for a moment, just looking at you, taking in the view of your side-profile. 

“They look nice.”

Shinso isn’t talking about the lights.

~ fighting for your attention ~

Listen, usually Shinso absolutely hates using his quirk for anything out of villain fights, because if he does he feels like he reinforces the idea that he might be a villain too

But, when it comes to you?

He’s relatively tame at first, he doesnt get too jealous or overprotective as someone else might (cough, bakugo, cough), but it doesnt mean that he doesnt need reassurance sometimes

If it gets to the point that another one of your suitors is making you uncomfortable, then by all means, hes asking them what theyre doing and forcing them to walk away

And afterwards, having that little moment of supposed villainy feels worth it

Just keep smiling at him

im sorry this took so long!

I hope you guys enjoyed

[redcoralpot]

U Malatu - Mike Schmidt x M! Reader

Summary: Mike gets a call back on the ad he had sent out for a new babysitter for Abby. While they were interested in the job, Mike was more than interested in them.

Warnings: NSFW content (masturbation), and mentions of murder.

Word Count: 1.55K

Notes: Consider this a gift for the gay Mike simps!!

-

Mike had expected nothing of it, really. He had paid a newspaper company a few dollars to display ads for a babysitter in their daily papers; a last ditch attempt before starting his new job at a local pizzeria. He was working the night shifts, and with his office being in the middle of a highly dangerous, abandoned building, he hesitated in bringing his little sister along. Abby was only ten years old– who knows what she would get into?

So, when his phone rang with a call from an unknown number, Mike immediately answered, “Hello?”

Radio silence from the other end. His mother always had warned him about spam. 

His finger hovered over a red button, ready to end the call, when a noise froze any movement, “Um… are you Mike Schmidt?”

“Yeah, this is him.”

The caller cleared their throat, “Okay, so, I’m calling about a babysitting ad I saw at a local diner; I’m interested. Is it possible for us to meet there to discuss details?”

“Woah, hold on. What’s your name?” Mike questioned, folding his jacket over a chair.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll meet you outside of Sparky’s at four o’clock. I’m looking forward to it!”

“Wait–” That was the only thing he could respond with before the line cut out, and his home screen went back to normal.

Suspicious. Maybe he should have gone a different route than dropping the opportunity of watching over a vulnerable child into just anyone’s hands, but it was too late to turn back now. Sparky’s was a public place, at least, so this person would not be able to hurt Mike without getting caught. If he got any weird feelings from them, he’d immediately call it off and go home. 

Mike glanced at the oven clock, ticking away at time like it was nothing. Currently, it was only three, and the drive to the popular diner was only fifteen minutes away. Well, shit. He was too desperate to pass this up, not with the court constantly watching his back. Mike groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, dreading his first shift already.

He ended up needing that extra time to get Abby comfortable enough for him to leave, and oh, how stubborn she was. Mike had to carry her over his shoulder just to get her into her bedroom, where she had plenty of sensory toys and items to occupy herself with. Additionally, Mike had put extra care into making sure she had the opposite too, such as noise canceling headphones in case the neighbor decided to mow his lawn again. The last time he saw her, she was huddled up on her desk again, using crayons to draw scribbly pictures of her imaginary friends. Yeah, imaginary. They weren’t real, as much as Abby claimed they were.

By the time he had gotten in the car, started it, and driven to Sparky’s, he was five minutes late. Yet, from his windshield, he could see a man in a quirky uniform sitting outside the main doors. Mike couldn’t see the details of the stranger– he needed to get his eyes checked– but he witnessed them flinch at the sound of his car door slamming. As he approached, the man jumped up with a sparkle in their eye, and held out a hand.

“Mike Schmidt?”

He didn’t shake it, causing the hand to fall awkwardly to your side, “Yeah.”

“Uh, anyways, I saw your ad. The diner hands out a paper full of ads with their menus, you see, and yours caught my eye.”

“You mentioned that.”

The man had a lopsided grin on his face, and you chuckled; the sound sent a spark up Mike’s spine, “Yes, yes I did. I make decent money, but I’m also looking for a bit of a side job too. Babysitting was on the top of my list, ‘cause I love kids.”

“Do you have any actual experience with it?”

“I was a babysitter for my first job in highschool,” he rambled, “my favorite kid was a little boy from a local daycare. His mom said he got diagnosed with autism and she needed extra help taking care of him during the evenings. He was a delight!”

“Why did you stop?”

“Ah, it’s a shame. Fritz, the little guy, was one of the kids that went missing at a pizzeria a while back. His mom was never the same after that, and I felt guilty that I wasn’t there.” You shuffled closer to the doors, shoulders tense.

“A pizzeria?”

You shrugged, “It got shut down soon after that. I guess when a couple of kids disappear into thin air in a restaurant, parents aren’t keen on bringing their children there anymore.”

Mike opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but you stopped him, “Listen, I gotta go, this was my break. You have my number, right?”

He nodded, and you replied with your pinky and thumb sticking out of a fist, held to your ear. Mike watched as you disappeared into the diner, curiosity and another, more unknown feeling creeping up his chest. He remembered it so well, looking back on it.

-

Nowadays, Abby loves you. Mike could lean on the doorway, and a smile would tug on the corners of his lips as he watched you make shapes with your hands. A light was set in her room specifically for this purpose, as the shadows cast would mimic whole storylines. His little sister would view it in glee; the tales always accompanied by voice acting, your doing. Mike even started, in the back of his mind, to prefer the idea of spending the night like that instead of in front of a collection of security cameras. He observed your hands, how your body moved, your face, and more embarrassingly, your lips.

Mike studied how gentle and sickeningly sweet your voice was when you praised Abby, but also the stern expression that played in your eyes when she misbehaved. You would glance up at him sometimes, the manner still stained, and a heady feeling would slam into his brain. The experience always only lasted a few seconds, when his little sister would grumble again, and you were pulled back towards her. Frankly, there were times when Mike wished you would continue, though he’d never admit it. He pushed it down with everything else.

Alas, that can only work for so long– a man has needs. Those needs surface at the worst possible time, and for Mike, that was on his endless night shift at the pizzeria. He cursed under his breath, feeling his dick straining against his jeans. The feeling of your hand manhandling him out of his own front door was imprinted on his shoulder, even if his uniform vest covered it. Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine, and he closed his eyes as his eyebrows scrunched together.

“F-fuck.” He whispered. 

His seat shook as Mike shifted in it, fidgeting, unable to focus on the bright screens on his desk. The more he tried ignoring it, the more depraved thoughts infected his head. A finger trailed up the seam of his pants, his breath hitching, where it finally landed on the button holding it all together. Mike bit his lip and unbuttoned it, a whine escaping him as he palmed himself. 

He imagined it was you that was doing it, your strong palm cupping his crotch as easily as you did a mug at home. He snaked fingers into his boxers, sliding himself out of the top, and rested his forehead against the wood under the cameras. His dick twitched at the movement, and he brushed against the tip. Mike huffed as he slid his hand down, and then up, repeating; spreading precum as it came out. What else could you do with that strength?

Could you manhandle him on his hands and knees? You could, he knew, and you would trail your hands down his body. So very gentle, so very kind, for what you were about to do. You could hold his hips still to prevent him from thrusting up into your hand, as he whimpered in complaint. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he felt the stickiness grow in his hand; you could call him the most pathetic things and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. A pet, a slut, a little whore.

Mike let out a quiet moan, “Please…”

He’d face away from you as you thrust your own against his cock, not even earning the privilege to look at you. You would treat him as only a toy to use, whenever, and however you wanted. His ass would be red from how hard your skin slapped against his; the sting only sending down zaps of pleasure. You wouldn’t even bother taking off your own clothes, only his. 

“That’s it, that’s a good boy,” you’d grunt.

That same heady feeling slammed into Mike again, but this time was different– this time it was accompanied by a white flash in front of his eyes. His body seized upwards, drool smearing against the desktop. The guard felt warmth drip down his palm, onto his pants and the floor. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep, shaky breath. 

The stain was going to be hard to explain.

-