#sorry if it makes no sense it is currently midnight

[atlasdoe]

found out today that there are two other "cannon" McKinnons, who were both kidnapped and killed during the first war so I took this as an opportunity to be mean to Marlene. Enjoy :)

“Marlene.”

It was the loudest she had heard her mother speak since her father died. The only way Marlene knew for sure that it was her mothers voice speaking to her was the sad tone that she spoke in. Her mother was the only person Marlene knew who could be that numb.

Imogen McKinnon sat at the kitchen table, bent over herself and staring at the tiled floor. On the table was a letter and a half drank bottle of wine.

Marlene’s heart began to sink as she carefully stepped towards her mother. “Is something the matter?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

Imogen looked up at her and sniffled before quickly whipping her nose with her sleeve and motioning to the letter. “Angus and Elspeth were found this morning,” she replied. “They’re both dead.”

Marlene’s lips curled as she tried to keep her face straight. Angus and Elspeth were now the fifth and sixth members of the McKinnon family to have been killed and they were only seven years older than her. They had both become Aurors after graduating Hogwarts and aside from Marlene’s own father became the most successful members of the family. When they disappeared it was reported that a likely reason was because The Dark Lord wanted them in their ranks. Clearly, if that had been true they had refused, and Marlene couldn’t tell if she was relieved at the news or not.

Still, no matter the reason, six of her family members had now been killed during the war, and it was too much for Marlene to ever consider it a coincidence. Looking into her mothers eyes, Marlene knew she felt the same. Which made her plea harder to deny.

“You have to stop this,” Imogen said plainly. “I know that you think you’re doing what's right but you’re only putting our family in more danger.”

“We’re all being killed off and you want me to quit the Order?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I want you to stop this nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense!” Marlene almost yelled. “It's a resistance started by Albus Dumbledore! We’re helping!”

“You are helping nobody!” Her mother bellowed, standing up as Marlene crossed her arms. “I know that you think you’re saving the world but you are not. You are not an Auror. You are a twenty year old unemployed girl who thinks she's invincible but you're not.”

“I'm an adult Ma,” Marlene said, trying her hardest to keep her tears in. “People my age are getting married – Two of my friends are pregnant!”

“And they’re stupid for doing so but I did not raise you stupid!”

“You didn’t raise me at all!”

Imogen deflated and shook her head. “We’re not doing this now,” she said softly. “This isn’t the time for grudges–”

“Grudges?”

“This is the time for you to be responsible and put your family before your silly little fantasies of being like your father.”

“This isn't about Dad. This is about – Protecting people – Protecting my family; my siblings.”

“You're going to get them killed!”

Marlene paused and stared at her mother as if she would take it back. She knew she wouldn't. Her mother had never believed in Marlene's ability to keep her younger siblings safe but it wasn't as if she was doing any better.

“I've been keeping them safe for twelve years,” Marlene said in a hushed tone. “I've been doing a good job so far.”

“You have no idea what it's like –”

“I'VE GIVEN UP EVERYTHING FOR THEM!” she yelled, refusing to feel guilty at the way her mother flinched. “And I will continue to do so. I know that you don't understand but I am doing this to keep them safe!”

“All four of them are at Hogwarts right now while you're here. How is that keeping them safe?”

“They're safe at Hogwarts. In the meantime I'm preventing this war from continuing once they're back.”

Imogen sighed and dropped back down into her chair. “They are after us,” she whispered so quietly Marlene didn't know if she was supposed to hear it. “It's only a matter of time before they come to us.”

“I won't let that happen,” she promised, kneeling down to her mothers level. “Trust me the way Dad did. Please Ma.”

Her eyes lifted from the floor and Marlene could tell by the look in them that it was only a matter of seconds before her mother turned back into the shell she knew. Marlene took her mothers hands and decided that if there really was a bounty on all of their heads, she might as well pretend to like her mother.

“I'm not going to let anything happen to us,” she promised, squeezing her hands with as much confidence as she could. “I know what I'm doing.”

[meteorherd]

if i am being completely honest so many of yall are not helping fight against anti-intellectualism in the slightest while still supposedly claiming to do so, like....i figured it would be common sense that being condescending about how you're more cultured than those Other Terminally Online Idiots is not the best idea (bold choice of words too considering that you care enough to BE condescending on the internet in the first place, like at least acknowledge that we are all terminally online to some extent on here lol).

it's the same idea of how simply quoting some three-sentence social justice take you see online to someone irl isn't going to make them change their mind, and it's not always gonna be because they're just stubborn and you're inherently smarter. it's because you're being condescending without having anything substantial to back it up!!! common sense here, man!! the same idea of isolating your viewpoint of what True Intellectualism is isn't gonna do shit in the end.

i desperately wish more conversations around anti-intellectualism focused more on accessibility and didn't treat ableism solely as some strawman argument that the "cringe 30 year old fandom moms" use, because yes! there ARE gonna be people like that! and they are so, SO annoying! but for every person who is intentionally oblivious and stubborn like that, there ARE people who get alienated by the intellectualist rhetoric that's gotten magnified over the past few years because disabilities DO genuinely get in the way of learning. like, at the end of it all...just have a little compassion when it comes to the topic i guess.

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part nine.

Bahrain is just as beautiful as it was the first time. There’s a palpable energy to the streets of the city in the days leading up to the Grand Prix, and you find yourself filled with anticipation and excitement.

A lot has happened in the year it’s been since you were last here━ enough that it almost feels like a lifetime ago━ but the ups and downs have culminated into something pretty great.

The night of your birthday, when you and all of Lando’s friends had crammed yourselves into Lando’s living room and cheered as the clock turned midnight to herald in the new year, Oscar had pulled you in and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. It hadn’t gone further than that, perhaps out of respect for your earlier breakdown and the still tentative thing between the two of you, but nonetheless just the feeling of his lips against yours had made you feel alive.

It had reminded you a bit of your first kiss outside the hotel, but instead of awkwardly dancing around it after the fact, you’d woken up the following morning with him wrapped around you, and this time you’d allowed yourself to savor it. He’d woken up to you running your fingers through his hair, and then you’d spent the morning cuddling beneath the sheets and talking things out before Lando had, eventually, burst into the room with his hand over his eyes, demanding the two of you “get decent” so you could all get lunch.

This weekend will mark two months of being together, and it feels surreal.

“You look insane right now,” Logan announces out of the blue from where he sits across from you in the booth. The restaurant you’re in is relatively close to the hotel where you’re staying, but with it still being nearly a week until race day, it’s practically empty so early into the afternoon, which makes his voice seem louder in the quiet peacefulness around you.

“What?” You glance up from your phone and raise an eyebrow. He isn’t even looking at you. He’s looking at his own phone, thumb sweeping across the screen while he picks at the few remains of his food mindlessly with his fork.

“You’re smiling at your phone and it’s making you look insane,” he elaborates nonchalantly, like it’s common sense despite him still not even looking up from whatever video he’s watching.

You scoff, “You aren’t even looking.”

He finally lifts his gaze, but it’s only to make a face at you. His features scrunches up, exaggerating his disgust with twisted lips and narrowed eyes. “I don’t need to. It’s like an aura. I can feel it from here. It’s gross.”

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes. Ever since getting with Oscar, he’s been getting more and more dramatic with his feigned disgust, and now it’s mostly just a bit he thinks is hilarious to pull out every time you’re even mildly entertained by something pertaining to your boyfriend. It would probably still be funny to you if you weren’t almost always texting him, or keeping up with the McLaren Instagram account’s updates of his training, and therefore almost always mildly entertained. “I’m so terribly sorry you have to deal with your sister being happy.”

He rolls his eyes back at you, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips and you know his act is falling apart. “Are you and Oscar gonna meet up later?”

“We’re trying to schedule things,” you answer with a shrug. Oscar’s flight got in late last night, too late for him and his team to get around to the typical obligations expected of him, so he’s spent all of this morning getting caught up and according to your current text chain with him he’s only just been released and given free reign to do as he wishes. “I’m texting him about it right now.”

“That tracks.”

You raise an eyebrow once more, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It’s Logan’s turn to raise an eyebrow, as if he can’t believe you’re really asking that. “Whenever you text him you get all disgustingly happy.” He scrunches up his face again. “You’re like a real life Hallmark couple. I half expect the two of you to move to some small town with a coincidentally holiday themed name in the middle of nowhere. And there’s a Christmas tree farm, or a reindeer lodge, or something.” He ends his mini tirade with a forced and exagerated shiver.

“You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you.”

He deadpans. “Everytime I see you two together I find myself disturbed by the sheer imensity of your joy.”

“Aw,” you coo, “I love you too.”

It’s only Monday, which gives you a few days before things start getting underway at the track. It also means you’ve got a decent amount of time to share between Logan, who’s grown increasingly grumpier at the idea of you potentially switching aliegences to McLaren, and Oscar, who’s just happy to see you whenever he can.

When you’d left Monaco a few days after the party, it had been with the knowledge that this new and still fragile relationship was going to have to withstand the stressors of long distance. You’ve called one another nearly every day since then to try and replicate some semblance of normalcy, but time zone differences often saw one of you getting into bed while the other was getting out of it━ at least, when he was back in Melbourne making the most of the time he had with his family. Things got slightly easier when he was called back to England to start pre-season training and testing, but it also meant lots of meetings and PR events that kept him away from the phone and left him exhausted by the time he was finished.

Needless to say, this is the first chance you have to see him again in person and it feels like torture knowing the only thing keeping you apart is a few city blocks.

“Real talk though, have him around to the hotel,” Logan speaks up again, just as the waitress comes and clears your plates away.

You spare her a smile and a quiet thank you, and then turn back to him. “Why? You and Dalton already gave him the shovel talk over videocall.”

“Just because you two are ‘involved’━” he says it like it’s some sort of bogus conspiracy theory, “━doesn’t mean I can’t still hang out with my friend.”

“I thought you were disturbed by the sheer imensity of our joy when you see us together?”

“Okay and?” He makes another face at you, but it’s less like he’s disgusted by the reminder of you and Oscar’s relationship, and more like he’s annoyed that you’ve used his own words against him. “I’m disturbed by Alex’s taste in music too, but I still put up with it when we’re in the car together.”

The two of you fall into peals of laughter.

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yourusername he loves me AND my crippling hat addiction

view all 1,342 comments

logansargeant hm, interesting how one is blue and none are orange 🤔

↳ yourusername hm, interesting how i know where you sleep 🤔

mclaren Looks like you’re missing some papaya Y/N! We can fix that 😁🧡

↳ williamsracing Sorry! She’s already ours 😊💙

↳ yourusername omg guysss don’t fight over meee 🫣

user RAHHHH USA USA WTF IS A KILOMETERRRRR 🦅🦅

user need me a boyf who buys me hats

user guyssss it HAS to be oscar

↳ user what?? no it’s literally lando did you even see the comments between the two of them from a month ago?? she went to monaco with him??

↳ user y’all are crazy fr it’s obvi a nobody and y/n is just milking the drama from ppl thinking it’s a driver bc it means more interactions on her posts and therefore it’s better for her career

↳ user i think it’s max!!

↳ user what.

user LIVE LAUGH LOVE Y/N’S HAT COLLECTION

landonorris crippling indeed

↳ yourusername i’m trying my hardest 😔

↳ landonorris the first step to getting help is admitting you have a problem

oscarpiastri 🧢

↳ yourusername x10

Oscar’s running his hands through your hair and you’re flipping through the channels on the hotel TV when the subject comes up. There’s nothing that’s really catching your interest, and half of it is in languages you don’t know, but just sitting here and enjoying Oscar’s presence is enough to stave off the boredom. Logan's been gone for just over an hour, having left to go meet up with Alex for some Williams promotional content, and you’ve been drifting a bit when your boyfriend speaks up from behind you, asking, “Are you gonna visit McLaren hospitality this weekend?”

You pause your surfing, landing on a cooking show that’s in French. His fingers are still tangled in your hair, but he’s momentarily stopped too.

“Do you want me to come to McLaren hospitality?” You ask, looking up at him from where you’re leaning back against his chest. “Because I will,” you hurriedly add, “if you want me to. But it’ll just add fuel to the fire and further encourage the speculation online about which one of you I’m with.”

“I do think it’s funny to see people go full detective mode in your comments,” Oscar smiles down at you. He looks shy, hesitant almost in the way his eyes flicker across your face. He clears his throat nervously, “But I was kind of thinking that maybe you could visit as my girlfriend. Publicly.”

You sit up immediately and turn to face him, ignoring that his fingers catch on your hair as you move. He looks just as surprised by your sudden movement as you feel by his sudden announcement. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, if you’d rather not━” he starts, uncertain.

“No!” You interrupt, reaching out to take his face in your hands and silencing him. “I would absolutely love that, but are you sure you want the attention this will get you? We’ve been lucky with avoiding the negativity so far, but you know that it’ll come the moment we announce it.”

He brings his hands up and places them on top of where yours rest, and then he interlaces your fingers and pulls your hands away so he can speak again. There’s a soft smile on his face and a gentleness in his eyes that you’ve come to recognize as a look that’s exclusive to you and you alone. “I want the world to know who my heart belongs to.”

A grin tugs at your lips, and then you’re falling into his arms with a laugh.

It feels good knowing you can do this whenever you want. Just last year you hadn’t even realized you’d wanted something like this with Oscar, but then the kiss had happened and you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it━ about wanting more and not being able to have it. It had been torture, honestly, pining after him like a lovesick school girl, too afraid to make the first move and risk the balance of it all.

You’re still embarrassed by what all had needed to happen before things had been cleared up, and part of you still kicks yourself for not just taking that leap and going for it, especially when it would have given you moments like this, wrapped in his arms, so much sooner.

“I know we’ve already talked about it, but I was really worried that you would hate me for kissing you that night,” Oscar murmurs against the top of your head, as if he can read your thoughts. “I thought that you had only kissed me back because you were, like, too drunk to know better. And then, I realized what I’d done, and I pulled away before it could go any further. And then you never mentioned it, and I figured you wanted to just forget about it, so I never mentioned it either.”

You shift just enough to let your arms drape over his shoulders, and then you let your fingers tangle in his hair the same way his had been in yours. You scratch at his head for a moment, letting his words settle before you say, “I thought you’d only kissed me because you got caught up in the emotions of it all, and then when you never mentioned it I thought it’s because you regretted it, or thought it was a mistake, and you just wanted to forget it. I really wish I would’ve just gotten over my fear and talked to you about it.”

You feel his heartbeat against you where you’re leaned up against his chest. It’s strong and steady, and it’s the nicest thing you’ve ever felt.

“It would’ve been nice to celebrate in other ways after I podiumed in Japan,” he adds suggestively, laughing when you pull one of your hands back to swat at his arm.

“Podium again this year and maybe we can celebrate in those other ways,” you whisper against his neck.

He groans, “Well now you’re just being mean.”

You pull away from his grip, an innocent smile on your face. “I have no idea what you mean, babe.”

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oscarpiastri the luckiest guy and the prettiest girl

view all 1,092 comments

yourusername the prettiest* guy and the luckiest* girl

↳ landonorris literally throwing up rn 🤮

↳ yourusername mind your own business 😒

↳ landonorris mInD yOuR oWn BuSiNeSs 😒 you made it my business when you posted that disgustingly sweet comment where i could see

user OMG IT WAS OSCAR ALL ALONG

user Y/NOSCAR NATION RISE UP AND REJOICE 🙌🙌🙌

user we literally clocked it from a mile away

↳ user i know damn well you were in the comments saying it was lando don’t even try and pretend otherwise

landonorris so glad ppl can stop thinking i’m with your girlfriend now mate

↳ oscarpiastri it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a gf of your own

↳ landonorris why am i taking shots out of nowhere??

user this is literally my roman empire

mclaren Welcome to the McLaren team, Y/N! Looking forward to hopefully seeing you in some papaya around the paddock 🧡

↳ logansargeant pls she’s all i have left you can’t take her too

user WISHING THEM THE BEST

user i don’t understand why oscar would be with someone who willingly flirts with other men?? like is that not hoe behavior?? make it make sense ffs

↳ user lando and y/n are friends as this post proves. the fact that you saw friendly banter as flirting says more about you and how you view ppl than it says about either of them, and i think you might need to look inward before you can judge someone else. and even if it had been flirting, we don’t know when y/n and oscar got together, which means it’s entirely possible that she was single when she was “flirting” with lando which wouldn’t be cheating at all.

↳ user they’re just butthurt that oscar would never spare them a glance

user been here from the start and i gotta say this is more euphoric than any award could ever be

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yourusername been waiting for the moment to pull out these bad boys and now i can 🤭 thx babe love you 😘

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user y/n 🤝 mclaren admin

oscarpiastri so this is a game you want to play

↳ logansargeant i got you mate don’t worry my arsenal is at your disposal

↳ yourusername WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT

user y/n is THE wag pls she’s gonna be feeding us so well

user MANIFESTING MCLAREN WINS FOR 2024 💪😤

↳ user MANIFESTING WILLIAMS WINS FOR 2024

user wait so like gen who is she gonna root for???

landonorris you’re doing god’s work today y/n

↳ yourusername someone had to give the ppl what they want 🫡

user couple of the century right here folks

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel @lewisvinga @81vas @maih23 @thatoneembarrasingmoment

━━ a/n: and there we have it folks! the ending to this lovely story! i will probably do a few little blurbs for them eventually, but in the meantime this is where we leave them. thank you for reading!

[pookalicious-hq]

Midnight Love || ch. 3 - white ferrari

Paige Bueckers x Uconnwbb!reader

previous: ch.2 - golden || next: .4 - april || masterlist

a/n: not proofread sorry baes <3

now playing: slow dancing in the dark by joji

She was sat on her bed, the passing clouds cast fleeting shadows over her room, enveloping her in a familiar wave of frustration. Throughout (Y/n)'s life, there had been countless instances where she wished she could freeze time, if only for a moment. In her experience, time never seemed to align in her favour; nothing ever happened at the 'right time,' and she often had to work tirelessly to make things happen. Unfortunately, her life hadn't witnessed any miracles yet, and there seemed to be no signs of any on the horizon to rescue her.

Currently, the clock displayed 5:47 PM.

A river of clothing continued to spill out of (Y/n)’s wardrobe, forming several piles scattered across her floor. Various textures and colours now adorned every crevice of her room. What started as simple 'yes,' 'no,' and 'maybe' piles quickly multiplied into categories like 'yes-if-the-weather-stays-nice' or 'maybe-but-it-would-look-better-if-my-hair-was-up'. Defeated, (Y/n) slumped from her bed to the floor. Choosing an outfit wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly in this context.

5:50 PM

Now would’ve been the perfect moment for her first miracle.

As she stared at the chaotic array of clothing before her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping in. It wasn't just the prospect of selecting the right outfit; it was the nagging uncertainty about the evening itself, looming on the horizon like an unanswered question. After all, it wasn't like she was getting dressed up for media day, it was just the rest of the team. She found herself second-guessing the decision to go at all. With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) pushed herself off the floor, resolving to make a decision one way or another. As she stood there amidst the scattered clothes, (Y/n) tried to rack her brain for what had compelled her to agree to this outing in the first place.

***That morning

"And good Lord, right then and there, I wished I could’ve just gotten killed earlier on when I was in that shark tank because my mom appeared, mad as hell, and was ready to slap the shit outta me-”

Absentmindedly, (Y/n) hummed in agreement as her eyes scanned the fully stocked shelves. The aroma of freshly baked bread from the nearby bakery section wafted through the air, making (Y/n)'s stomach growl in protest at its emptiness. For the past four aisles, KK had been recounting her so-called horrifying dream from the night before, all from inside their shopping cart. While the first 30 seconds had been captivating, (Y/n) soon realized that KK was far from done. This dream had been so 'emotionally and mentally impactful' that KK felt compelled to act out her car chase scene, resulting in her abandoning the cart. After the fateful crash, the two found themselves with a worker trailing them from behind, ready to intervene with KK’s boisterous antics if needed.

The restock of the week was greatly needed. With the pantry, kitchen, and fruit bowl left with nothing but dust, both girls’ moods had increasingly deteriorated from the day before. As KK continued to recount her experience, (Y/n) was left with the task of finding what they needed. “Mhmm, sounds traumatic speaking of that. What else do we need?”

KK gave her a look. “Yeah, it was. Thank you for your consideration.”

 “Always for you. But you didn’t answer my question—what else do we need?”

Realizing that KK couldn’t wring out any more sympathy from (Y/n), she shifted her focus from recounting her painful nightmare to recalling the items on the grocery list she conveniently left at home—a detail she kept from the older girl.

“Uh, okay damn. I think like… meat?” 

The cart suddenly jerked to a halt, catching KK off guard. She lurched forward, instinctively steadying herself on the shopping cart. The harsh fluorescent lighting overhead felt too intense for the early morning, casting stark shadows across the aisles. 

KK turned around to face her roommate, ready to berate her for the sudden maneuver. However, the words of distaste dissolved on her tongue as she beheld (Y/n)'s expression. The older girl stood before her, eyes closed, brows furrowed in the middle, teetering between disbelief and strained patience. KK would be grateful to come out of this conversation unscathed.

(Y/n)'s tone was short, “KK.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

With a deep inhale, (Y/n) gripped the shopping cart, her fingers tightening around the metal handle as she suppressed the urge to vent her frustration. Swallowing back all the profanities that came to mind, she managed a strained smile. 

“What type of meat?”

“You know, like, bruschetta… maybe some bacon-”

“Maybe?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow, her patience waning.

KK chuckled, the sound bouncing off the fluorescent-lit aisles. “Nah, just kidding. We definitely need bacon. And also… Oh shit… Ice?”

(Y/n) blinked, the abrupt shift in conversation catching her off guard. “...Ice? KK, are you good? Because last time I checked, you were the one who brought up meat in the first place.”

In response, KK stood up from her position in the shopping cart, the metal rattling as she shifted her weight. “No look, it’s Ice.”

Following KK’s gaze, she then spotted Ice Brady in the next aisle. The 6’3 forward struggled to fit numerous bags of chips into her shopping basket, her arms stretched to their limits.

With a resigned sigh, (Y/n) began to maneuver the cart containing KK towards Ice's location. The wheels squeaked in protest against the linoleum floor, the rhythmic sound echoing in the bustling store. Despite her being a D1 athlete, she found herself growing weary of playing the role of chauffeur for her friend. Yet, as she glanced at KK’s expectant expression, she knew there was no escaping it.

“Ice Brady," KK sang, her arms outstretched in a theatrical gesture as the cart rolled to a stop. The spectacle drew the attention of nearby shoppers, who paused to witness the unfolding scene, transfixed by the unexpected drama. "Would you care for some assistance today?"

Ice, caught off guard by the flamboyant greeting, turned her attention from the bags of chips to KK's infectious smile. Amusement danced in her eyes as she surveyed the scene before her. With a nod of acknowledgment to (Y/n), who was still navigating the cart into a suitable parking spot, Ice responded, "I mean, if you hopped out of the cart, I could put my stuff in, but I wouldn’t want to trouble your highness."

“Oh!” KK’s hands came together in childish glee, pleased by Ice’s answer, “How considerate of you, but it's alright, I’ve been feeling courteous today.”

“So now you’re feeling ‘courteous’?” (Y/n) deadpanned as she made her way around the shopping cart across from Ice. As KK made her stellar attempt to climb out of the cart gracefully, (Y/n) stood behind her to help lift her out, “I’ve literally been pushing you around all morning, babes.” 

She then made her way over toward ice to give assistance with the various chip bags enough to feed a family for christmas dinner. 

“So,” KK started her smile towards Ice, selectively choosing to ignore her roommate’s comment “what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Y’know, working had to feed the kids, and all that. You guys sure eat a lot” 

“Wait,” KK gaped, “This is all for us?”

“Have you checked the group chat?” Ice questioned. In fact, they had not. Though she had been added days prior, (Y/n) had decided to keep her distance from that group chat. The two girls turned to look at each other, proceeded by KK quickly checking her phone.

Soon enough, her eyes ignited from within. “Hell yeah, party time,” she sang.

“K, you’re being dramatic, it’s literally just the team,” Ice laughed.

“Theres a hangout tonight?” (Y/n) questioned, her stomach forming knots at the thought of being in a room with all of the UConn Women’s Basketball team.

“Yup, everyone, including you two, are coming over."

(Y/n) glanced between KK and Ice, her expression shifting to one of mild apprehension. "Do I have a choice?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of resignation.

Both KK and Ice exchanged a knowing look before simultaneously replying, "Nope."

6:15 pm

During her first official collegiate-level game freshman year, (Y/n) led her team to a resounding victory, later that night earning her the coveted title of 'The People’s Princess' of the NCAA.

Beneath the blaring lights of the stadium, (Y/n) was radiant. It was a moment she had long envisioned, the culmination of years of relentless dedication and unwavering determination. With her eyes gleaming and her words flowing with confidence, she effortlessly captivated the reporter and everyone in attendance. Her presence seemed to cast a spell over the crowd, drawing them in with her infectious smile and undeniable talent.

In the weeks that followed, (Y/n)'s reputation soared to new heights. However, amidst the high, a subtle unease began to gnaw at her. She quickly realized that the pedestal on which she had been placed came with its own set of challenges.

Despite her remarkable achievements on the court, she found herself confined by the weight of expectations. The public's perception of her became increasingly polarized, with praise often overshadowed by harsh criticism. She was both celebrated and scrutinized for her gentle demeanour, her commanding presence, and even her choice of attire.

The constant contrast between adoration and disdain left her feeling unsettled, she was constantly walking on a tightrope between two worlds. Over time, she became acutely aware of the need to separate her on-court persona from her everyday life, a process that had equally drained but benefited her.

Yet, as she immersed herself deeper into the complexities of her newfound fame, (Y/n) couldn't shake the nagging feeling that appearance had become everything.  In a world where perception was predominant, she grappled with the notion that her worth was measured not by her character or accomplishments, but by the image she projected to the world.

All this to say that unfortunately, (Y/n) had been second-guessing tonight’s event over and over again.  Only two individuals had truly seen beyond the facade she meticulously maintained: KK and, in a distant past, Paige.

As (Y/n)'s life flashed before her eyes, her gaze fixed on the door before her, its weathered surface worn by years of use. The soft hum of chatter from beyond the door drifted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of pizza and anticipation that hung in the hallway. Each groove in the wood seemed to whisper secrets, a silent witness to her inner turmoil.

She took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the edges of the doorframe. The cool touch of the wood against her skin sent a shiver down her spine, a tangible reminder of the reality awaiting her on the other side. What would they think of her? Did she look presentable enough? Doubts gnawed at her confidence, threatening to unravel the facade she had carefully constructed.

With a steadying exhale, (Y/n) pushed open the door, crossing the threshold into the unknown. The soft click of the latch echoed in her ears, signaling her descent into the realm of uncertainty.

The scene unfolded before her, intimate and genuine, a tapestry woven with the bonds of teammates. The UConn Women’s Basketball team occupied every corner of Ice’s condo, their laughter mingling with the warmth of the confined space. Despite the inviting atmosphere, (Y/n) couldn’t shake the feeling of being an intruder in this vibrant gathering.

With each step forward, (Y/n) sensed the weight of her decision. The events of this evening would undoubtedly shape her relationship with the team for the rest of the year.

Luckily, no one had noticed her entrance yet. As (Y/n) scanned the room, she searched for KK among the multitude of bodies, most of them towering over her. Despite her efforts, KK remained elusive. Frustration etched her features as uncertainty gnawed at her. She caught her reflection in a nearby mirror, regarding herself with unease.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Lost in her inner turmoil, (Y/n) failed to notice the door behind her slowly swinging open.

As the door swung shut, the breeze proceeded to cause a shift among her hair. Shoving away all distractions, (Y/n) straightened her back, took a deep breath and prepared for her next step further into the house.

“You gonna move? Or do you need help, princess?” Paige's voice cut through the air, shattering (Y/n)'s concentration. All prior thoughts dissolved from her mind at those words, her focus instantly shifting to the unexpected encounter with Paige.

Despite the familiarity of seeing Paige's face plastered on banners around UConn, the proximity still rattled her. She had thought she'd grown accustomed to it, but the reality of facing Paige in person was an entirely different experience.

She had an image to maintain, (Y/n) wouldn’t shy away at simple words anymore.

With a subtle steeling of her resolve, she turned to face the taller girl, meeting Paige's gaze head-on. Though she found herself looking up at Paige, she refused to give any ground in their exchange.

The tension between them crackled in the air, each word laden with unspoken history and unresolved emotions. (Y/n)'s jaw tightened, but she refused to let Paige see any hint of vulnerability. She squared her shoulders and held Paige's gaze with unwavering determination.

"No need for assistance, thanks," (Y/n) replied evenly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling inside her. "I can handle myself just fine."

Paige chuckled, taking a step closer to her. "Of course you can, Your Highness," she quipped, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "But it wouldn't hurt to let someone lend a hand every now and then."

(Y/n) bristled at the implication but forced herself to remain composed. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied curtly, stepping aside to let Paige pass.

Paige's lips quirked into a knowing smirk, but she didn't press the issue further. 

While Paige moved past her, (Y/n) couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that lingered in the air. Despite her best efforts to maintain her facade of confidence, there was a vulnerability in her interactions with Paige that she couldn't seem to shake.

As (Y/n) made her way further into the room, she found herself enveloped in a warm atmosphere. Smiles greeted her from every direction, genuine and welcoming, easing the tension that had knotted in her stomach.

“Damn, girl, I was just about to check if you had been kidnapped! What took you so long.” Exclaimed KK as she searched every inch of (Y/n). The younger girl’s gaze soon turned towards Paige suspiciously suddenly recounting the day prior, eyes snapping back and fourth. But then quieter KK added, “Hm, okay, I see, I see…”

A chorus of laughter bubbled up around them at KK’s dramatic statement, the sound infectious and light-hearted. (Y/n) couldn't help but smile in response, the weight of earlier uncertainties melting away in the warmth of their acceptance.

Any lingering tension between them dissipated in the face of the group's genuine warmth, replaced by a sense of belonging and shared purpose.

After making her rounds, (Y/n) went to sit by the couch, where a mini circle had formed as the team watched Azzi and Aubrey in their death match of Mario Cart. The room was filled with the rhythmic clicking of controllers and the occasional whoops and groans as players navigated their virtual karts through the colourful tracks. Azzi and Aubrey were locked in intense concentration, their eyes glued to the screen as they jostled for the lead. The competitive banter between them added to the lively atmosphere, punctuated by bursts of laughter and playful teasing from the rest of the team. (Y/n) leaned back, taking in the scene with a contented smile.

As the night progressed, (Y/n) found herself settling in, enjoying the easy connection of the team. Their genuine willingness to engage with her put her at ease, dispelling any lingering apprehension. After wrapping up a conversation with Ashlyn about her cats back at home, (Y/n) decided to take a brief respite. She excused herself and made her way to the kitchen, feeling a headache creeping in as result of the loud atmosphere. 

The cool touch of the glass along her fingers was well welcomed as (Y/n) took a sip of water. From her position in the kitchen, she had a comforting view of the apartment. As her gaze swept from Azzi and Aubrey fighting about wins and losses, to KK and Aaliyah filming their third tiktok of the night, her eyes landed on Paige. 

Obviously, people change as they grow up. Physically, Paige was taller. Her dark blond roots peaked out like a halo. But, the space between them seemed to grow as well. 

With a sigh, she turned to grab another sip of water. The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, hummed with activity. The tiled floor gleamed underfoot, a testament to the cleanliness maintained in the shared space.

Unfortunately, right as she turned, she bumped into the one and only Nika Muhl.

“Oh, shit,” (Y/n) jumped, the water in her glass sloshing dangerously close to the brim.

Before she could react, the collision resulted in the water spilling on Nika, the droplets now flowing from Nika’s shirt onto the tiles below. (Y/n)'s heart sank at the sight

“I’m so sorry, let me help you,” she stammered, scrambling for a nearby towel, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Nika waved off (Y/n)'s apology with a chuckle, her easygoing demeanour putting her at ease. "Don’t worry about it, (Y/n). Accidents happen." Nika took the towel she offered and dabbed at her shirt, trying to contain the spill.

(Y/n) winced, feeling guilty. "I didn't mean to, I was just lost in thought."

Nika leaned against the counter, a small smile playing on her lips. "No harm done. Do you want to talk about whatever was on your mind?"

(Y/n) hesitated, not wanting to burden Nika with her concerns. But Nika's warm gaze encouraged her to speak up. "Yeah, I'm just trying to find my place with the team, you know? Sometimes it feels like I'm still the new kid."

Nika nodded in understanding, crossing her arms casually. "I get that. But trust me, (Y/n), you fit right in. Everyone likes you."

(Y/n) felt a warmth spread through her chest at Nika's words, and she couldn't help but blush. "Thanks, Nika. That means a lot."

Nika chuckled, nudging (Y/n) playfully. "Hey, don't mention it. And you know what? Even Paige couldn't stop talking about how excited she was when she found out you were joining."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in surprise at the mention of Paige. "Really?"

Nika nodded, a knowing smile on her face. "Yep, really. It seems you’re quite the People’s Princess, (Y/n)."

Feeling a mix of emotions, (Y/n) leaned against the counter beside Nika, both of them watching the group outside the kitchen enjoying themselves. The sounds of laughter and chatter filled the air, creating a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

 However, (Y/n)'s attention was soon drawn to the sight of everyone getting up and preparing to leave. "Where is everyone going?" she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

Nika followed her gaze, her expression turning playful. "I guess it’s about that time now.” Nika then stood up to trail the team out of the apartment. “Team tradition."

Now playing: white ferrari by frank ocean

The night enveloped the surroundings in a tranquil embrace, casting a serene aura over the playground. The soft glow of the moon and stars illuminated the path ahead, casting gentle shadows on the playground equipment.

Amidst the laughter of her companions, (Y/n) found herself immersed in the peaceful ambiance of the night. As she followed behind the group, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. The cool night air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of freshly cut grass and distant city lights.

With each step, (Y/n) felt a weight lifting from her shoulders, replaced by a quiet sense of serenity. She took in the sight of her newfound teammates friends ahead, their silhouettes dancing against the night sky, and allowed herself to be relax the moment, grateful for the new joys she would encounter with this team.

As they made their way onto the playground, the flash of red and blue metal bars pierced the air, bringing back memories of a time when playing D1 basketball was just a distant dream.

Following close behind, (Y/n) ended her destination at a swing set that shone silver and gold against the night sky. The chains groaned in response of her weight, their link rattling together, forming a melody long forgotten. As her world slowly swung on an axis, (Y/n) couldn’t help but finally be at ease. 

As (Y/n) allowed herself to sink into the comforting rhythm of the swing, she became aware of a presence nearby. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Paige making her way towards the swing set, her silhouette cutting through the darkness like a shadow. Despite the tension that often lingered between them, there was something oddly comforting about Paige's proximity in that moment. With a silent invitation, (Y/n) watched as Paige settled onto the swing beside her, the chains creaking softly in protest under their combined weight.

For a moment, there was only the soft whip of the wind that passed by (Y/n)’s ears, occasionally broken by the rattling chains and the laughter that drifted from the playground. Though things between the two girls were complicated, (Y/n) missed their time together. 

With a sigh, her eyes searched the distant lights above. Her mind filled in the blanks and connected the dots of the stars in the skies. Unbeknownst to (Y/n), Paige had been doing the same since she arrived.

“Ursa Major,” Paige murmured, the name of the constellation unintentionally slipping from her lips.

At the sudden break in the comforting silence, (Y/n) glanced over to her, giving her full attention. 

"Is it still your favorite?" Paige asked, her voice soft with genuine curiosity, her gaze falling to the side to find (Y/n)’s surprised expression within the darkness.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) spoke softly, her mind filled with the countless nights they searched the sky together. An unexplainable wave of yearning and sadness washed over her senses, “it is.”

Paige then turned her attention back to the sky above, all while (Y/n) was still processing the fact that she remembered her favourite constellation.

“You still remember?” (Y/n) asked, the question slipping from her mind out to the world before she could stop herself.

Paige felt her blood rush scarlet. “Yeah, you know… how could I forget?”

Paige’s answer stunned her. She assumed that since they parted ways, Paige would’ve also tried to erase the memories from her mind. For (Y/n), it had been too much to remember.

Paige's response  lingered in the air, the weight of its meaning hanging heavy between them.

Paige hesitated, her gaze searching (Y/n)'s face for any sign of recognition. "Do you ever miss it?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat at the question, her mind racing as she struggled to find the right words. "Miss what?" she replied, her voice barely audible over the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft glow of the stars.

Paige's gaze softened. "Us," she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

A whirlwind of emotions swept through (Y/n) at Paige's question. Her chest tightened, and her breath caught in her throat. The weight of their shared history pressed down on her, threatening to overwhelm her fragile composure.

Yet, amid the turmoil of conflicting emotions, a flicker of longing ignited within her.

Everyday.

She wanted to respond.

I’ve never stopped missing us. 

She hadn’t expected such a question from Paige. Though she had been hoping, deep down, she knew that Paige might not have the same space for her in her world. After all, a sun doesn’t need a moon to survive.

Over time, their dynamic had shifted, revealing that (Y/n) relied more on Paige than the other way around. But those words brought into question whether (Y/n) had been wrong about them all along.

Her eyes swept to the side to meet Paige’s expectant gaze, her eyes reflecting the silver moonlight.

“Always.”

Neither Paige nor (Y/n) had been expecting the answer to be spoken. At the revelation, the corners of Paige’s lips curved into the slightest smile. 

As soon as the conversation started, silence drifted between them, The two girls drifted back into their quiet comfort. Only now, they both shared the same information. Possibilities of the upcoming sprung up into (Y/n)’s mind. Things would be different then she expected, but maybe that was a good thing.

(Deleted scene)

“Nah, Paige is occupied at the moment,” KK laughed, her voice carrying over the chatter of the group. With a deft swing from the monkey bars, she landed next to Aaliyah, where her phone was propped up to capture their talents. As they continued their antics, the live chat exploded with questions about (Y/n) after the idea of getting Paige on the stream was quickly shut down.

“Damn,” Aaliyah murmured, her eyes scanning the flood of messages, “y’all really love her, don’t you?”

A chorus of affirmative responses flooded the chat. Meanwhile, Azzi's voice cut through the background noise, calling both Aaliyah and KK over to witness her latest feat on the monkey bars. With a shared grin, the two girls left their spot, drawn by Azzi's infectious energy.

In the darkness of the night, the bottom right corner of the screen was illuminated just enough to make ou two silhouettes together on a swing set. The descovery sparked a flurry of speculation in the chat. Messages scrolled rapidly as viewers attempted to decipher the identities of the mysterious figures. Within moments, messages began pouring out as Paige and (Y/n) were finally identified.

(Y/n) and Paige: Sparks Fly on Live Stream

Fans were treated to an unexpected sight during teammate KK Arnold's recent live stream, as basketball stars (Y/n) (L/n) and Paige Bueckers made a joint appearance. Their presence together immediately set social media abuzz, with fans reigniting dating rumors that have followed the pair for years. Despite both athletes maintaining silence on the matter, the resurgence of speculation has divided fans, with some eagerly shipping the duo while others advocate for their privacy. As (Y/n) and Paige continue to focus on their careers, fans remain captivated by the possibility of a romantic connection between the two athletes.

a/n: yuhh chapter two done! sorry for the wait, it's been a tough week lmao! anyways, im begging you PLEASE LISTEN TO WHITE FERRARI WHILE READING THE NIGHT SCENE ITS SO GOOD

anyways, thanks for all the love and support you guys are the best, loving all the comments <333

also for future chapters, does anyone live in seattle? cuz mc is gonna be from there and i need a highschool that was good at basketball or just one in general. LOVE YALL SO MUCH SEE YOU NEXT TIME

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @juphey , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung , @ktaerssoi , @evangelinexo , @c999sh

[junkissed]

late night talking

member — minghao x f reader genre — angst, idk if there's enough fluff for this to count as hurt/comfort but the ending is sort of happy ? word count — 2.1k synopsis — the best and worst conversations always happen at 1am. warnings — reader is very drunk and very very insecure, lots of crying, lots of internal back & forth, unreliable narrator moment, refers to reader as girlfriend/my girl/etc., idk if i'm missing anything else but lmk if i am notes — this is an old fic that i never really intended to be released but @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions convinced me otherwise. sorry this is not at all what i normally post lmao i swear don't write like this often i just found this in my drive that i wrote when i was in a very shitty mood. we will return to your regularly scheduled smut programming soon i promise lmao! leave a comment in the reblogs or send an ask if you enjoyed this? idk i am nervous to post this pls don't perceive me too much

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you're ugly when you're drunk.

“hao?”

your voice rings throughout the house, the sound shaky and quieter than usual.

he wouldn't even have known you were home if he hadn't heard your friend's car pull up minutes ago, bright headlights flashing through the bedroom window. he wouldn't have known, if he wasn't already worried sick at you being gone so long and consuming an unknown amount of alcohol. he should've been there with you, but too much was riding on the deadline for his students’ grades that had to be finished before midnight. any other day he would've been by your side the whole night, a steady hand on your arm for balance and a sharp eye on your glass just in case. he loves playing the role of protective boyfriend, letting his girl do whatever she wants because he'll always be there to watch over her. but he couldn't do that tonight, and it tears him up inside.

he hears your trudging footsteps down the hall, soft footfalls signalling your approach as you drag yourself towards the room. he pretends not to hear; he doesn't want to make a big deal out of this and embarrass you.

“you're home early,” he comments with a chuckle, but his sarcasm is lost on you in this state. it's well after 1 in the morning, and you tilt your head in confusion at his words, brows deeply furrowed.

“what— are you working on?” you ask after a moment, focusing all your energy on not stumbling over your words. 

you know how drunk you are, he knows how drunk you are, but even now you're still putting on an act. you hate feeling stupid in front of him, and right now you couldn't feel any stupider. the worst part is that you feel as stupid when you're sober as you do right now, but you couldn't tell him that.

he pauses, choosing his next words carefully as he surveys your current state. he can't risk hurting your feelings, especially in such a vulnerable headspace.

“grading finals,” he decides on. not too detailed to confuse you, not too simplified to make you feel stupid, just enough to make you feel involved.

distantly you feel your eyes welling up with tears. you don't know why, but at the same time you know exactly why. you're never good enough compared to him, not when you come home drunk in the dead of night, and he never does. not when he's so good at everything he touches, so talented and beautiful and perfect, and you're… not. 

he deserves someone at his level, an artistic genius like him who can help him with his work. someone with an eye for his paintings, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone who can keep him on his toes. someone who won't drag him down and burden him with your obvious lack of skill and your quality of being so embarrassingly lightweight that you need to be supervised at all times. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally muster. you can't find the words to explain what you mean, but you hope he's able to sense your sincerity.

“what for?” he asks. his voice is softer now. 

you hate it when he uses that voice. he's talking down to you, talking like you're a child and he has to explain everything to you in the gentlest way possible because you aren't capable of handling the truth.

you love when he uses that voice. sometimes he can be so blunt it almost feels isolating, but when he talks to you like you're a child in that sweet, gentle, kind tone you feel like everything will be okay. he can soften himself for you, drop his straightforward persona around you and be the tender man you know he's capable of being. 

you lift your eyes to his computer screen and the feelings you've been struggling with float back into view. “i'm sorry,” you repeat, voice cracking despite the effort you put in to stop it from breaking. it's all you can say.

you don't notice when the tears overflow, bursting from your eyes without a sound. you're embarrassing, you're an idiot, standing in front of him with red eyes and hunched shoulders as tears stream down your cheeks. you don't even feel them fall.

if he knows what you're trying to convey with your tearful apologies, he doesn't mention it. 

of course he knows, how could he not when he's so astute with everything? you suck at keeping things to yourself. 

of course he doesn't know, why would he take the time out of his busy schedule to care about how you're feeling? you're not worth his energy.

the moment seems to stretch on for eternity, standing in front of him. you don't know why you started dating in the first place; he doesn't have the time, you're too annoying, too clingy, too affectionate. standing in front of him, you don't feel anything. you just feel cold.

you turn to drag yourself out of the room, deciding that you've embarrassed yourself enough by now. you don't know where you'll go or what you're doing, probably to pour yourself a glass of water and try to sleep on the couch. obviously he won't want you to sleep in his bed when you’re like this, why should he? you aren’t deserving of that privilege.

but then you feel a warm hand on your wrist, gently tugging you back towards him. you lose your balance, stumble over your feet, fall onto his lap. you're mortified, barely able to get another “sorry” out before trying to stand again on wobbly legs. you shouldn't be here. you're so aware, so painfully conscious of your weight on him, every ounce of energy you have left fighting to keep yourself from annoying him even further but it feels like it's too late. everything that comes from you is too little, too late.

“no,” he says. his tone is still that soft, sweet sound, but his voice is firm and you don't try to get up again. “we can talk tomorrow,” he says as he begins to run his hand along your back, and you hate yourself for the way you instantly melt at his touch. “just… relax. calm down.”

your body slouches against his chest, feeling like a puddle on his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck whether you meant to or not. your legs dangle limply off his lap, arms wrapped loosely around the back of his chair as he holds you.

“it's okay,” he says simply, still stroking his hand along your back in small, soothing motions. “it's okay.” he repeats the words, maybe to convince himself but mostly to convince you from having a breakdown. even now when he's treating you so delicately, your brain won't let you rest: he's probably scared of you, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean any of it and he's using whatever means necessary to stop you from turning hysterical or even violent. of course it doesn't mean anything to him. 

“how much did you drink tonight, baby?” he asks, and you know you should take that as judgmental but you don't have the energy left anymore. you don't note the twinge of concern in his voice, you can't see the look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“a little— a lot,” you answer, somewhat truthfully. the real truth is that you lost count. you weren't trying to get drunk, but one turned into two turned into ten and before you even knew what you were doing a car was dropping you off in front of your house.

he shifts his legs for you to sit more comfortably on his lap, and as much as you want to fight it you don't have the strength to. “do you want to go to bed?” he asks gently. “or do you want to stay up with me?”

“don't… want you to go to bed ‘cuz of me,” you mumble against his neck. god, his skin is so soft and warm. you couldn't move your body right now even if you tried. “not your fault.”

“what kind of guy would i be if i didn't take care of my girlfriend when she needs me?” he asks. “i can put you to bed if you want. it's alright. it's late anyway.”

“it's not– your job,” you manage to reply, and his hand on your back stops for a second.

“it is my job,” he says softly. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “i'm sorry if you feel like i haven't done that.”

“please, don't— no sorry,” you choke out as fresh tears prick at your eyes. “it's my fault. i'm sorry. it's my fault.”

he holds you tighter, both arms wrapped around you on his lap now. “it's not your fault,” he says in that same firm but gentle voice. “you haven't done anything wrong at all. it's alright, baby, i promise. you don't have anything to worry about. why are you sorry?”

“i don't know,” you mumble. your hand clutches at his chest unconsciously, balling his t-shirt in your fist. “i dunno. i love you. i dunno.”

“i love you, too,” he says after a beat. the tears, the drunken outburst, he just lets it all happen. without a word of complaint. despite the voices in your head fighting to convince you otherwise, he never says a single negative thing to you.

you know he's not normally like this. with everyone else he's polite, unemotional, reserved. he's never vulnerable. which is why you're so confused right now.

“why?” you slur, still grasping onto hope.

he hums in questioning, nudging you to elaborate.

“why are you like this to me?”

but now he's the one who's confused. “like what?”

you pause, and the room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound your shallow breaths against his chest. “nice.”

for all his knowledge, this time he's actually lost. “why would i not be nice to you?”

“i don't deserve it.”

he shifts again, pulling you closer to his chest as he starts to run his fingers through his hair. “of course you do, baby.”

“you don't deserve me.”

he stops again, this time in shock. “hey. that's not true.”

“is too true,” you say. your eyes are closed and you can't help the frown overtaking your face. “you should have somebody you deserve. it's not me.”

he just sighs, and you feel his chest expand beneath your cheek at the deep breath he takes. “i love you, baby. not anyone else. you'll feel better in the morning, and we can talk then. but i'm not mad at you, okay? there's nothing wrong. everything's okay.”

you try to mimic his sigh, but the angle you're laying at on his chest and the alcohol in your system makes it hard to breathe deeply. 

“do you want to keep sitting with me?” he asks. he knows how much you like the sounds his keyboard makes, the quiet tapping as he enters grades and types comments to his students about things you could never fathom to understand.

your eyes stay closed and your head doesn't move. “yeah,” you murmur softly.

he settles back into his chair, you curled up on his lap. he's not doing much, he's finished the worst of it and now just entering numbers. he glances down at your figure, almost asleep on him, and he feels an ache in his chest. 

every emotion feels amplified to you right now, but if it took getting blackout drunk for you to finally say it then it must've been weighing on you for a long time coming. he wonders how long you've felt like this, felt inadequate compared to him, and it makes him pause. it was never his intention. when you're awake and sober and hopefully not massively hungover, then you can talk, and he can make this right.

he loves the person snuggled against his chest, loves the feeling of you comforted and protected by him, and he'll do anything to make sure you know that. he'll do anything to let you see yourself the way he sees you. above all the worries he has about you, he knows one thing for sure.

you're cute when you're drunk.

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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[senblades]

Hi :)

I love your art and your writing, and you have such a great grasp of these characters that I was wondering if you have any fic recs? Rating doesn't matter ;)

boy do I! (and ty for the compliment <3 <3 <3)

[cracks knuckles] alrighty:

The Dissapearence of Goro Akechi by Kupowonders - Probably my favourite fic ever, honestly- it's like. derailing the plot of persona 5 post-medjed thanks to the persona 4 accomplice ending years prior. (So, spoilers for p4 in that, too) it's. very good.

Marigolds by Colbub - Akechi gets ng+'ed to right when he started working for Shido, and has to take a good look at the future to come and be like "Aight how the fuck do I fix this". Fun times!

Daredevil, You've hit the wall by ez_cookie. Essentially, p5 Strikers but Sumire and Goro get to be in on the fun, too. And, there's a direct sequel currently being updated that's a similar premise for p5 Tactica. very very good stuff

A Tale of Two Tricksters by Zoe2k8 - Murder boyfriends! ...sort of? Angst! Angst and murder boyfriends! An oversimplification, obviously, but I'm not kidding when I say this fic is amazing and is also over a million words holy shit-

Throw away your mask by MollyPollyKinz - Another ng+ situation for Akechi, but this time the poor guy gets thrown all the way to 2009. You can imagine how well that goes (For the audience, less so for Akechi himself.)

The Crow Cries at Midnight by Dorked. hehe this one is very fun. Basically, a series of coincedencs causes Akechi to get thrown into the plot of persona 4. No time travel here! Just a grumpy 12/13 year-old Akechi trying to solve a murder mystery

The entire Tales of Chaos series by Eternalmomentss (The first one is called Like sand between your fingers) Very very good stuff! Something of a character study, I would say, of Ren and Goro. Plus, all the funky plot stuff that comes from trickster-typical bad luck and poor descision making. I really love this series hehe

uhh this post is getting very long I need to make this less wordy- lightning round?

Hunger for a life by Leonawriter - do you like vampires? I sure do! Mix that and the p5 plot and you get shenanigins. [evil laughter] a lot of shenanigins

Fishbowl by KivaEmber - Akechi has a terrible time in Maruki's reality. And I mean a terrible time

You have a beautiful smile underneath that mask by Saposaki - Akechi has a crush on Akira and Joker has a crush on Crow. No one is aware of the other's secret identity. Dramatic irony and hilarity ensues.

MASTERMiND by StumblingBlock - No Metaverse au where Akira really doesn't want to follow in the footsteps of his crime family, and fails miserably

Rose and Rot by SixteenJuniper - Read this!! I'm serious!! "A fun fantasy adventure" don't listen to Juniper. You'll be in tears by chapter two. (/pos, of course) (Seriously this fic is incredible)

Redressing the Balance by Convocated - ...almost a ng+? Ng+, in the sense that shuake are getting funky visions that are very quickly derailing the standard plot of p5r. This causes problems of the "Someone get the popcorn and maybe the tissues" variety

She's got a heartbeat full of lead (And she's aiming straight for the head) by Dots - This fic haunts me, often. In the best way possible, of course; but seriously, read it

Cracked into by SydneyHorses - Ren makes bad descisions and it becomes Akechi's problem. 2/2 timeloop, perhaps most notably featuring HaruGoro friendship! Love love love this fic

Okay that wasn't as "less wordy" as I intended but it'll do

Aaaand that's a wrap! Sorry for the long post.. and this is by no means all of the fics that I've ever loved (nor are the ones here in any particular order) but I swear we'll be here all week if I keep going HAHA

ty for the ask (and again for the kind words), anon! Hope this was helpful and to your tastes! (I... hope you like Shuake HAHA it's present in most of these- I assume you do, since you came to me (points at literally everything shuake I've made) of all people, but uh. Some of these fics are gen if it's not to your liking?)

[zhounauts]

CHASING ──── pairing f1 driver!lhs x fmr warnings breakup, cursing, x proofread wc 1.3k currently listening to lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıılıı.lllııılı.

the first time you meet lee heeseung he’s 21, fast, on his third year with red bull, and chasing.

and you’re just you: looking for a job with college coming to a close, wanting to settle down, and here at this fancy monaco club by chance.

the dim, flashing lights, and the pounding bass of the music fill your senses as you sip slowly on your drink that’s far too expensive for someone like you. “could i get another?” you turn to the voice that appears from next to you.

he’s handsome, his hair slicked up, with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. you rip your eyes off of him , drinking what little remains of your drink. “could i also get another of what she’s got?” you snap your head towards him. he smiles. “you’re here alone?”

“yeah,” you answer. he grins, as the bartender slides over the two drinks. he grabs his before sliding over the second one to you.

“oh you didn’t—“

“take it, i wanted to,” he echoes. red rushes up your already rosy cheeks, and you’re insanely glad for the dim lights that previously hurt your head.

“thanks,” you mumble.

“i’m lee heeseung, and you?”

with that night, your life changes.

you go from boring college student, to traveling the world, grand prix after grand prix, sitting in the red bull garage to watch heeseung.

it’s thrilling, every single time you arrive at the bustling paddock with heeseung by your side. you feel on top of the world when heeseung pulls you in for a quick kiss before hopping into his car, the goofy smile on your face seemingly lasting till the the checkered flag.

your heart bursts with pride when he finishes on the podium, cheering in the crowd with his team and when he pulls you in for a hug even thought he’s sweaty and tired.

heeseung is the definition of high speed and you become apart of it.

but just as quickly it all happens, it all can quickly fall apart.

heeseung is chasing.

chasing to be the fastest, chasing to be on the podium, chasing for that world champion title, chasing to be the best, the top of formula 1.

he isn’t chasing to settle down, not even in the near future, because then he’ll be chasing for his second world championship,his third, fourth, and whatever else he can get his hands on.

he’s reaching for things thousands of miles ahead of you, and where he wants go simply doesn’t fit you.

you know the initial thrill of your relationship is fading, heeseung is training, he is always training.

even during the longer breaks between race weeks, he’s out, chasing things that don’t include you. but you don’t want to let go, so you keep trying to keep up.

but he’s too fast, and you’re running out of fuel.

you don’t even flinch anymore when heeseung sends you a message, cancelling a date again because he’s held up at the sims training again. you simply close your phone, setting it down and order when the waitress comes up to you again for the third time.

her face is sympathetic and she’s kind to you, but despite that you wish you could slap that look off her face. you’re angrier than ever this time, all these missed dates, and the lack communication finally catching up. when the food comes, you barely touch it, furiously sending it to heeseung’s tab before storming out of the restaurant.

“yn?”

it’s twelve at midnight when heeseung reaches your hotel room. you put your phone down, and stare at him. “i’m really sorry i—”

”shut it heeseung,” you snap, “i don’t want to hear the same shit coming out of your mouth again,”

“no yn this time i’m—”

“save it, you were busy training or whatever you do, i don’t care,” this time, heeseung narrows his eyes.

“seriously?” heeseung demands, “are you joking?”

“i get you’re training! i get you want to win the world championship because the last race is this weekend and you and Jake are tied for points, but don’t you ever think about us? do you ever think about me? cause it really seems to me, that i’m just—”

“well then you clearly don’t understand,” heeseung snaps, and you inhale sharply. “listen, we’re both tired right now, let’s just go to bed alright? i don’t want to fight with you,” you watch as he hangs his jacket up, and goes to the bathroom. “we can talk when we’re both not yelling,” he slams the door. he shuts you out.

but for some reason, you still don’t want to let go.

you wake up the next morning to the rustling of bed sheets from heeseung’s side.

you groggily watch as he shuffles around the room, going to the bathroom to get ready to leave already. it stings, as you sit up yourself and rub your tired eyes, that this is happening. when he comes out of the bathroom, his eyes meet with yours.

“are you coming to watch qualifying?” he asks, breaking the silence. you look away from him. “okay,” he inhales sharply, “take your time. we’ll talk another time,” and he leaves, shutting the door, shutting you out for the second time again.

the sheer volume of the red bull garage is enough to make anyone go deaf, but despite your anger at him you're still jumping for joy up and down with the members in the garage as heeseung passes the finish line, in first place, as champion of the world.

an engineer grabs your wrist, pulling you out to run with the team so that they can greet heeseung and you laugh, following.

when heeseung jumps out of his car, he sprints, throwing himself over the gate and into the team, where he’s met with slaps on his helmet and screams of pure joy. he makes his rounds around the team, and when he gets to you he stops.

the adrenaline you previously had from his win comes to a slow, as you stare at him. you can’t see what he’s thinking, with the helmet covering his eyes, but you still give him a small smile. that’s enough for him apparently, because he pulls you in for a hug, but you know it's different from the usual ones you two share.

the next time you see heeseung, is at the afterparty, in another one of those fancy clubs that you had grown used to, but had never grown to truly love. afterall, the drinks were still much too expensive for someone like you.

now heeseung is 22, faster than ever, world champion, and still restless for more.

and you’re 22 now as well, slowing down, and settling. when you look over at the center of the club, heeseung’s surrounded by his team, who are still parading him around and cheering. from your spot at the bar, you watch, observe, and when you see heeseung’s face you let go of all your anger, because it all just clicks.

his eyes meet yours and you watch as he stops. you sip on your drink, turning away from him. you feel someone approach from behind, “could i get a refill? and one for her to,” the familiar scene sends shivers down your back, as heeseung slides into the seat next to you just like he did on that one unforgettable monaco night.

“you did great,” heeseung laughs.

“thank you," he grins, "i feel on top of the world,"

“plotting for your second championship already?”

“you bet,” he smiles, his eyes sparkling. you sip on your drink silently.

“i think we should end things here,” you say quietly. you watch as he falters slightly.

“i’m sorry,”

“no, don’t be,” you tell him, “i’m sorry to. i knew this whole time,”

“it wasn’t you,”

“i know,” you tell him, slinging your purse onto your shoulder. “we're at different points in life,"

"thank you," heeseung whispers.

"no heeseung," you smile, "thank you for giving me an unforgettable year, i'll be cheering for your second world championship,"

and for the first time in a while, you leave the club with your side empty.

© zhounauts 2024

networks @a-dream-bookmark

[aweina]

౨ৎ. PEACHES & CREAM ( 17 + ) ; raiden

tags gn reader. caught masturbating. hand job. oral sex. food play. hair pulling. friends to lovers. + 2k words.

based on this ask

the straw basket you held was snug in your grasp, filled with assortments of glossy apples, fuzzy peaches, and ripe lychees. it was all of raiden’s favorite fruits — something you learned from tomas’s daily commutes to your family’s fruit farm.

a bad fever. you distinctly traced back to kung lao’s words, a bitter look animating his face every time he spared details about raiden’s current sickening state. a layer of cold sweat covering his skin, unusually complaining about muscle aches, and his appetite only consisting of a glass of water and some good sleep.

that was bad. raiden has never gotten sick in all the years you’ve known him. he wore his skin like armor — resilient and adaptable to any weather. but with the current heat waves passing through the condensed village, it only made sense for the hardworking farm boy to be too stubborn to miss a day in the cabbage fields.

nevertheless, you admired raiden for his work ethic, but most importantly his compassion and kindness. he shined so bright when there was a smile on his face. hearing his gentle voice made your eyes flutter shut and soothed throughout the whole day. your crush on the farm boy couldn’t be anymore obvious, but it seems your subtle flirting and wandering eyes went unnoticed for years.

you gently pad through the zen garden, minimal with white rocks and gravel that held the warmth of summer — your scandals were neatly placed by the entrance, footsteps much softer and less damaging to the wooden platform. raiden’s home, blared with midnight silence all while the vicious heat waves irritably hum in your ears, making you flush under your thin garments.

drop off the basket and make your way home. that was the plan.

but your nerves heightened at the source of warm light that bled through the sliding doors — shadows of objects inked all over the paper panel. it was raiden's room. he was awake?

slowly, you got closer, softly step towards the light with a nervous grip on the straw-woven handle. you froze in shock when you heard a strangled sound coming from the other side of the panel. one step. the sound was suppressed, lodged deep in his throat. closer. a rhythmic wetness, in sync with your racing heart. in front of the door. with a hoarse voice, your name desperately fell off his lips as a gushing sound followed after.

with a shaking hand, you curiously slid open the thin panel.

it’s raiden, he just jerked off on his bed while he moaned your name.

before slipping his strained hand past the waistband of his soiled underwear, he restlessly opens his eyes and sees you standing there.

did he come so hard that he was hallucinating?

it took an awkward second to realize you were in fact, real. immediately, raiden frantically covered his lower half with the bunched up covers beside him — his usual kind eyes filled with the fusion of embarrassment and guilt. if it weren’t across his room right now, raiden would’ve used his straw hat to avoid your unreadable eyes — preferably forever.

“i – uh – i can explain,” raiden finally sputtered with desperation. he was stressed, darting his wavering gaze over to the fallen fruit basket to your terrifyingly neutral expression.

he looked away, gazing down at his fidgeting, haphazardly wiped hands.

“i’m truly… truly sorry about this. you must have been uncomfortable hearing all that – if you wish to never see me, i’ll make sure to —“

“are you still sick, raiden?”

your tone was even as you entered the humid room and slid the panel door shut. he flinched at the sound of your footstep, even more so with your lack of response to his apology.

“i – i’ve recovered well…” his words seemed to fall into silence as he looked up and watched you slowly bend down and take a peach from the floor, peeling off the fuzz with delicate fingers.

“has any of madam bo’s remedies worked well for you?”

one side of the peach was peeled off, a bead of sweet juice running down the plush fruit. it gleamed under the warm lantern light and made raiden swallow in anticipation.

“yes… they have made great improvements to combat my sickness, although… i’m still suffering from a headache.”

thinking about his lengthy absence, away from his responsibilities in fengjian, away from the sense of community, away from you, led him to a troubling spiral that left his head pounding with an intense ache. touching himself seemed like the only solution at the time, especially when his worries about you transformed into a lustful yearning.

you nodded in acknowledgement, the peach extract now ran down your arm — tacky on your dewy skin. to his surprise, you took a generous bite from the fruit, the delicate floral flavor coating your mouth. a gush of juice ran down from the corner of your lustrous lips, prompting you to take a finger and catch the leftover juice, only to apply it over your lips like a sweet balm.

raiden concentrates on your alluring movements with wide eyes, thankful for his previous panicked behavior to hide his shameful actions, only for it now to hide another painfully confined boner.

pressing your sticky lips together, you tread towards the small bed to take a seat on the edge, far from the farm boy’s reach. but with you much closer than before, raiden’s rapid breathing was apparent. he’s nervous, yet there’s a sense of urgency coursing through his stiff body. he could crawl towards you if you wanted him to, he could even set aside every ounce of his pride to beg for your touch. but then your question made his flush pink while the sudden surge of blood pumping through his veins made his cock twitch.

“mind if i try one of my remedies?”

your voice is so sweet and intoxicating, replacing all his senses with sexual desire.

raiden nodded frantically.

“o – of course, please do.” then you smiled for the first time of the night.

you crawled towards him with need, immediately latching your mouth onto his. raiden sighs in relief, sloppily kissing you back in desperation, the taste of peach on the tip of his tongue. eagerly, he lapped his pink muscle over your sweet lips. his favorite fruit coating your lips, tasting it with his own mouth — he must be dreaming. you whimpered at his gentle licking, eyes fluttering shut to memorize each caress of his tongue.

to close any space between the two of you, raiden pulls away the covers and guides your flushed body to straddle him. your weight sealed tight against raiden, his hardened cock brushed along your own clothes wetness — a choked groan escaping his lips all while you swallow them into a searing sugary kiss.

in need of some air, the both of you were panting heavily as you pulled away, a shared dazed expression on each other’s faces. you were the first to laugh, lips swollen and glossy from raiden’s eager tongue. he joined in the break of sexual tension with a small chuckle, the essence of peach was still sweet on his palate. you smile warmly as you gently brushed threads of long black hair away from his flushed face — cradling his warm cheeks into your hands.

“is it fine if i continue?” you whispered against his lips, leaving a plethora of sweet pecks in between each word.

“i could never deny you.” he confesses with no sputter or hesitation to his words — genuine and sweet.

by the elder gods, you wanted to make him feel so good.

you smiled wickedly as you leaned back and adjusted yourself, grinding agonizingly slow and hard against his hot erection. raiden hisses, rough hands suddenly firm around your waist for leverage. the dimly lit room felt more humid than before, filled with desperate pants and heady sweat. summer’s heat waves didn’t help the fact that the both of you were burning with desire.

you began to undress from your silky robe, the patterned fabric pooled by the side of the bed. raiden fondly stares at your bare body, starstruck by your natural beauty. before he could remove his own damp clothing, your nimble fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt — exposing his heaving chest. for as long you’ve ever known raiden, a shirt clung onto his frame. never once showing an ounce of skin further than his collarbones. but this was something new. a well-toned stomach from his training with madam bo did him wonders. but with his even, golden tan shows that he does in fact train without a shirt — maybe after all this, you can accompany madam bo’s vigorous training.

but for now, your hands and lips ache to touch raiden everywhere. eagerly, you began to leave a trail of wet kisses and love marks all over his exposed body. raiden begins to groan with every scrap of your teeth, hands clinging desperately on his bedsheets. you smile at his impressive self-restraint, pulling away occasionally to fully memorize the details of his body. to the soft moles that scatter along his dewy marked skin, the deep contours that drew his frame, and finally the trail of coarse hair running his navel. he was perfect — so perfect.

raiden notices your intense gaze over his exposed form and shyly averts his eyes away, the grip on the cloth bed sheets giving him some stability.

you placed a sweet kiss over his navel, trailing down further as your cheeks began to graze his pubic hair, erection bumping against your chin.

“nervous?”

raiden shifts at your question and cutely nods.

“i am, but … i want to continue.” he has been waiting for this after all.

you nod at his words, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband as you carefully drag down his pants. raiden lifts his weight a bit to give you easier access — a comedic look on his face when his cock accidentally slaps your cheek when his waistband reaches down to his thighs.

“oh. i - i’m sorry.” he faintly chuckled in embarrassment, shrugging off the shirt to let it join the rest of the clothing on the floor.

you shook your head when you disgraced his pants, sitting up briefly to reach towards the nightstand.

“your excitement shouldn’t bring you shame.”

the half-bitten peach felt soft and sticky in your grasp, still supple with sweet sap.

“it just needs to be taken care of.”

raiden’s eyes perk up at the softened peach and immediately shift towards his cock. are you going to –

a sudden coldness kisses his swollen, oozing tip, dripping down on his shaft. raiden immediately moans at the foreign feeling, the delicate scent of honeyed sweetness seeping on his skin. your hands squeeze the peach a little harder, getting every ounce of sticky sap onto his twitching cock. running the fruit dry, you discarded it on the nightstand and began to run your hands down his length at an agonizingly slow pace.

your name falls prettily out of his lips with every careful pump — hips moving desperately to meet your hand. with his cock much more sensitive from the new sensation of a sticky essence and his previous orgasm, he was sure that he wouldn’t last much longer. sensing raiden’s peak, you pulled away — his hips sputter for a moment until they fell back onto the bed. raiden tried to compose himself, his shallow breaths brushing against your flushed face, progressively becoming more stable.

“don’t cum just yet, i haven’t even gotten to taste you.” you jested, shifting on your knees so that you’re at head level with his cock.

“your skill makes it hard for me not to.” raiden breathes out, a small smile on his face.

you playfully roll your eyes, brushing your hand over his fingertips — urging to guide his touch. curiously, raiden follows your gentle hold onto his long fingers until you thread them through your scalp. as he was a fast learner in combat, so was he in the bedroom. with a firm grip, raiden tugs onto the back of your head. you smiled at his new sense of confidence, the hesitation in his touch much more rough with assertiveness.

without a word, he slowly guided your mouth down onto his cock — the warm air replaced with a scorching wetness.

“shit.” raiden curses, a rarity in his usual vocabulary. his dark brows pinched together, strands of hair falling from his bun. “you are amazing.”

the small praise made your mouth water, dissolving the juice clung onto his length. raiden allows a few seconds for you to relax your mouth and begins to bob your head along his cock — careful to not let you gag just yet. the sweet taste of ripe peach and bitter precum laid deliciously over your tongue, twirling over his tip with every tug at your scalp. whimpers of your name escaped raiden’s lip as the sleek sounds of your filled mouth were in sync with one another. with your mouth adjusting to the forgiving pace, you began to suckle and moan around his cock — sending extra sensations for raiden to feel. he bites back a groan, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth and the perfect view of his hand gripping your messy hair and glossy eyes eagerly looking up at him.

even like this, he honestly found you to be breathtaking.

“you are so beautiful. oh. it just feels so good –“

raiden tilts his head up, his cock beginning to twitch in your mouth. the heady taste of cum and peach puts you into a mind numbing trance, intently suckling and licking down his length. suddenly, you gagged at the sudden graze of his tip, noticing how much further it is down your throat. your senses suddenly flood back into you, his low whines and groans much more clear.

“i – i’m close — so close.” raiden warns, his restraint begins to slowly chipping away as his grip begins to leave your scalp tender, his pace backing more grueling with each hard thrust of his hips, making you choke and tear up.

you grip tightly into his thighs, steadily breathing through your nose as his cock continuously plunges down throat. the coil in your gut burns with greed, ready to take his load. the fast building tension came so quick, you knew instantly that he was there. and with one final thrust, raiden calls out your name, hot cum spurting down your bruised throat — coating your mouth with a salty, peachy taste. his body jerks in overwhelming ecstasy, sweat collecting around his brow bone dripping down his neck. his cock softens in your mouth, making your breathing less restricting. the death grip on your scalp exchanged to a comforting massage, gently guiding your mouth to detach from his cock with a lewd pop.

your eyes met, his much more apologetic and filled with worry. as yours was filled with a satisfied haze.

“are you feeling okay?” raiden whispered in concern, making the effort to pat down the messy strands of your hair. “i was too rough on you, i’m sorry about that.”

you shook your head, laying your head over his stomach. raiden sighs in relief, although his brows still knit with concern.

“i’m fine. what about you? is your headache finally gone?”

raiden tilts his head in confusion, until he realizes what you mean. he lightly chuckles, continuing to caress your head adoringly.

“it is actually,” he genuinely admits, eyeing the crushed peach on the nightstand in amusement. “your remedy does work after all.”

you grinned at his teasing, slowly lifting up your whole body to grab one of the few sizable fragments of the fruit — pressing its sweet yellow flesh against your cum coated lips.

“if you ever feel sick again, i can try out other remedies.” you suggested, raising the sweet remnant towards his mouth.

his eyes light up before he gently grabs your wrist as he takes a bite, holding your unwavering gaze. he catches you off guard with a sudden short tug — locking into a tender kiss. raiden gently drags his tongue along the molars of your mouth and over your quivering lips. the taste of himself and the delicate floral sweetness surprisingly compliment each other.

he slowly pulled away, a trail of saliva between your lips gleamed under the warm light.

“then i hope my fever could last a little longer.”

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[perksofbeingpoet]

on nights where it's hard to go to sleep, where todd's thoughts are all over the place and he needs to burrow his head in his pillow to try to get some quiet, neil will read him parts of his current plays as a good night story.

"No- Neil, it-, it's late and you, you should be getting sleep, Hager won't go easy with the-"

"It's fine, Todd. Look, I'll just sit here at your desk to read it, yeah?"

"Yeah but- Neil, no, it's silly, I'll sleep in no time, you just-"

"C'mon, that's a laugh. I can hear your thoughts when you look like that, they take up so much space that I won't sleep either, not with how much I can sense your restlessness from across the room."

"Sorry."

"Todd, no. I wanna help you. And i need to learn these lines anyway. Can I please do this for you?"

"Fine. Fine. I- Thank you. Really, Neil. Thank you."

And Neil will use his soft voice, his voice reserved for the smallest children at Welton and for animals and for shh, the squirrel will run off if it hears us. The voice reserved for midnight readings, for Todd.

And Todd will melt into his pillow, Neil's soft words, the melody of the scenes he's reading pulling his eyes closed, fatigue bleeding into every part of his being.

Neil won't read it perfectly, and Todd will still be anxious, but they're trying.

And Neil's voice will slowly fade, he'll misread things more often, take longer breaks between sentences because gosh, he's tired, but he won't stop until Todd's eyes are two fading moons, his eyelids fern on his cheeks.

Todd sleeps. And Neil smiles and crawls into bed and keeps himself from yawning the next day, because todd should never feel guilty about this.

And when these scenes come up in the play Neil's in, Todd is somehow able to mouth the lines along with him.

And they make him think of cold floorboards and warm blankets and a voice as gentle as honey.

good night, little poet <3

[waaayoutofline]

When the Cat and the Mouse go for a midnight dance.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Agent Natasha x Criminal // Antihero Reader, violence, blood, murder and death, questionable moral reader, romantic insinuation (but not smut). Basically reader being a little shit and Natasha being tired of it. Fun and violent times :)

Summary —> Natasha has been chasing you, a fugitive and self claimed vigilante, for a while. One night, your paths cross again and you can’t help but to tease her a bit.

Part 1 | Part 2

WORD COUNT: 2025

The sun’s warmth has faded, yielding to dense shadows that engulf the streets. Amid dark corners and treacherous alleys, fear triggers instincts, the sympathetic system heightening defenses and hijacking paranoia. Adrenaline kicks in, heart racing, body preparing for any kind of danger looming around the corners.

And yet, you’ve always found a sense of comfort in it.

“Nah, I’m telling you, man, forget him. I’m not going back; that place is a hellhole.” a slightly drunk voice slurs, echoing against brick walls as rats scurry from dumpsters. A lighter crackles, followed by smoke drifting in the chilled breeze.

”Oh yeah? So, when are you telling him that?” Another scrawny voice asks with amusement. A silence, followed by a dry chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Smoke drifts slightly with the breeze, temperature drooping slightly.

“Shit, it's freezing out here.” One of the two complains.

The darkness the night brings…It allows you to hide. Yourself, your actions. From praying eyes. From the world. Perhaps even God if you are a believer.

“We’ve been safeguarding the warehouse for ages. What’s in there that he cares so much about?” he asks, taking another drag of his cigarette. For his voice, it was easy to guess he has had the nasty habit of smoking for years.

“Who knows. Drugs, guns, people…his usual shit.” His friend answers. “Honestly, I rather not know.”

You take the shot on your hand, leaving it on the trail before shaking your hair messily. A sigh scapes your lips as your hands pull down on your uncomfortably short dress.

“Whatever. I don’t give a damn as long as the money keeps flowing. Maybe he could throw in one of those spare companions of his.” The smile in his tone is evident.

“What? Want his sloppy seconds?”

“Oh fuck off.”

It allows you to either be the prey…or the hunter.

With practiced, seemingly haphazard steps, you maneuver your way toward one of the two men outside, their head turning immediately. “Woah there, sweetheart,” the one who catches you slurs, his hands immediately on your waist. His eyes darkening as he stares at you. “We wouldn’t want a sweet thing like you to hurt herself now, would we?” His breath reeks of bourbon and tobacco, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at how effortlessly this is playing out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Your voice is sweet, innocent—a trap. “I’m so clumsy.” He laughs, revealing yellowed and crooked teeth.

“That’s alright, glad I was here.” A silly giggle, another stumble.

“Got lost?” His friend asks, currently behind you. “You shouldn’t be. There are dangerous people out here.”

At least he got that part right.

The shorter one of the two steps closer. “I was just looking for something. Think you can help?” you say, looking up with doe eyes. He appears foolish as he stares with a blurry gaze.

A whistle. “Sure thing.” You find yourself almost trapped between the two.

“Great, thanks.” Your voice returns to normal, and in a matter of seconds, you punch the one in front of you in the throat. His dirty, clammy fingers release you in panic to clutch his throat, emitting a pathetic choking sound.

“What the fu-” As his friend reacts, you swiftly turn around and knee him in the groin. He howls and crumples to the floor with a cry.

“You bitch-“ Douchebg A says as he swings, movement sloppy. You easily dodge, making him tip and fall over his buddie, the two grunting. With a sigh, you grab the collar of his jacket and drag him to the vent of the rooftop, slamming him extra hard for good measure.

He is about to strand up, but you punch him on his nose with all your strength, one, two, three times until blood drips all over his gray shirt. As his back drags down the wall behind him, you kick him full force on the face.Between the pain and the alcohol on his system, he remains seated.

Just as Douchebag B gets on all fours, you walk towards him and kick him on the stomach, making him drop to the floor once again. He rolls around, trying to get away but you grab his hair and slam him downwards.

Making sure both of them are now unmoving, your hands catch the dagger strapped on your thigh and the map. Douchebag B is still wheezing, with a concussion probably. Crouching, you shove the map on his face. “Alright. So, about that help. Point to me where the warehouse is.”

He grunts. “Like hell I’ll tell you.” He spits. A sigh escapes your lips.

”It’s never easy with you people, is it?” Flipping your dagger, you stab in the side of his lower thigh, making him yelp. “I’m not asking nicely again. Point it or I’ll take this out and you’ll bleed out in a few minutes.”

He sputters, shaking his head. You dig deeper and he lets out another cry. Dragging it down, blood starts to spurt, skin and muscle ripping. “Fuck okay, okay! Here, i-its here…S-shit.” His shaky hands marks a street, leaving a smear of blood.

You turn to watch Douchebag A. “Now, you are going to say the address. I hope for both your sakes that it matches.” He mutters it. A pause as your eyes scans the map.

You fold it, a satisfied little smile on your face and then you pull the knife out, getting away just in time to avoid a spurt of blood. “Uh, messy.”

His friends curses. You can see how his face gets pale, breaths becoming shallower as a pool of blood starts to surround him. “What the fuc- He told you! W-we told you!”

Wiping the knife with the soon-to-be dead man on the ground, you put it back in place and walk towards him. A pipe on the ground lifts as you step on it and you grab it.You pout mockingly. “Yeah, I guess you did. Don’t worry, I believe you.”

“Y-you sick bit-..:”

A swing. Two. A sickening sound of broken bones and then nothing.

The silence returns once again, only slightly disturbed by your soft humming as you go back on your steps, closing the rooftop door and returning to the dim hallways of the club. As you advance, the thrumming of the loud music beat alongside your racing heart, a mass of drunken bodies not giving a single fuck at the suspicious now maroon spot on your midnight blue dress.

Entering the bathroom, you swiftly change into your standard attire, concealed within a hidden backpack. Black jeans, a wine crop top, and a dark blue denim jacket replace the compromised ensemble. Glancing in the mirror, you prepare to rejoin the dance floor with a specific goal in mind—the bar.

Where a cute, striking bartender is apparently engrossed in serving drinks. You say apparently because you know that in reality, she is too busy searching for you. Opting to spare her the pursuit, you lock eyes, and your heart quickens for an entirely different reason.

Forest green eyes fixate solely on you, creating a euphoria-like sensation despite your sobriety. A subtle smirk materializes under the focused gaze, and with a gentle sway of your hips, you approach her slowly, almost teasingly. On your way, you accidentally get in the way of a woman, who ends up backing away on a body next to her. ”Oh, so sorry!” You call out with an easy smile, still not changing directions.

“What? Not using the “what is such a beautiful lady like yourself doing here out of all places” line?” You tease, sitting on the stool, resting your chin on your right hand. She scoffs.

”Oh please, we both know that the lady is fully aware of what she is doing.” Her voice is deep, a bit raspy. Her words are calculated and you just want for her to lose her composure.

With a playful tone, you note. “Hm, you didn’t deny the “beautiful”. Do you fancy me, Agent Romanoff?”

“Hm, perhaps. If only you weren’t a worldwide fugitive.” Natasha answers back, tone dripping with mockery.

”I’l take that as a yes.” She wipes a glass, your eyes tracking the simple yet effective movements. “So, tell me. How many to the party did you bring today? For your sake, I hope they aren’t rookies.”

Natasha scoffs. “The building is surrounded. If you come willingly now, it all would go more…easy. For both of us.”

A snort. ”Aw, and cut short this cute Tom and Jerry little game we have? Please. We both know you enjoy it just as much as me, Natalia.” Her name comes out in almost a whisper as you get slightly closer. Your words hang in the air, charged with tension. “Don't tell me you don’t reveal on the thrill of the chase.”

She chuckles, the sound rich and low. “You and your flair for the dramatic. But let's not forget the reality of our situation. You are a criminal, and I’m tasked with bringing you in.”

It’s funny, really. The way in which this banter is maybe the only thing that makes adrenaline rush into your veins, well that besides your job of course. Still, you can't help but feel amused by it. “Yeah, sure, because your buddies are going to stop me. Let’s see, then!”

Clapping with your hands happily, you turn around slightly to look at the crowd. “Who will it be? PDA couplet over there?”

Natasha follows your pointing thumb, frowning when she sees the girl you shoved “accidentally”, now passionately making out with a tall, brunette dude. “The ones who guarded the exits which are currently tied up in the janitors closet?…Or perhaps the one who will tell you about my little handywork?”

Just in time, a slight buzzing tingles in the Russian agent’s ear. “Agent Romanoff, we found two gang members on the roof. One is already dead, several blunt trauma, and the other is about to bleed out. I’d say he has a few minutes tops.”

Her veiny hand grips the counter, knuckles turning white. A low whistle escapes you at the sight. “I mean, you could try and stop me yourself. Let me say, I’m not opposed to you putting me in handcuffs.” You tease with a dangerous glint in your eyes, your fingers tracing her left wrist up to her bicep. If she is bothered because of your touch, she doesn’t show it. But you see how her grip relaxes ever so slightly. Hm, interesting. “...or you could go, get the information from that dying bastard before it’s too late and you find yourself being stuck in a dead-end. Again.”

The wheels in her head are practically visible. Her eyes darken, and her jaw tenses. Oh, how you love to see her all worked up, knowing that you are one of the few who can break her cold composure. You mouth a tick-tock and with a hard downing of the bottle on her hand to the counter.

”This isn’t over. I’ll get my hands on you eventually.”

A pout. “Promise?” With a last scowl, she flies off.

Rushing through the stairs, the cold air hits Natasha on the face, her eyes adjusting to the poor light. “How is he?” Her eyes fall on the weapons you used, hand grabbing the now blooded pipe.

“I already cover the wound, but the blood…he's loosing too much. He won't make it to the medbay.” Crouching next to him, Natasha see the sickly pale tone of his face, eyes practically close and hears the shallow, broken breaths. Her eyes inspect the now covered deadly wound and grunts in frustration. “Hey, can you hear me?”

No response. He is dead. Out of frustration, she punches the vent next to him. “Um, ma’am? You should see this.”

A brick wall, right next to the door, with a message written in blood. “When you stop scowling, give me a call dear. Swear I’ll play nice.”

Grunting in frustration, Natasha throws the pipe against the wall, fuming. Looking over the street, she doesn’t see you anywhere. You are gone, even if something tells her you are giggling under the shadows.

[xylomane]

𝙎𝙤... 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚...

Ft. Diluc Ragnvindr Context: You're bored after he left for work and he called you somewhere at night to ask if you want anything from the malls since he just so happened to stop by one. Teasingly and craving for naught, you ask him to buy you a lingerie. You wonder just what kind he'll pick. Does he even know those...?

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Ｄｉｌｕｃ

"Huh? what's wrong? It's just a lingerie, you're the one with a problem not me." You say nonchalantly through the phone. "B-but listen, okay? I'm not good at this and even if I am-" You dropped the call, not even motivated to listen to anymore of his stammers. He's cute but still. It's been fifteen minutes since you requested him for a lingerie and he's still not convinced to agree? How will you know his favorites now?You can't wait another day. You needed to know his preferences.

Diluc knew to himself that he really didn't mean to disappoint. He just... never saw himself suitable for these kinds of things. He is a gentleman of course, with a name and a status to protect. He can't just show up in a lingerie store and attract some attention, his sex life would be questioned if somebody were to recognize him. (Diluc is famously known as the son of the founder of the most successful wine company in the entire world)

Diluc, knowing himself as a pleaser, didn't want to disappoint you any further so he sends you a text to assure you that he'll make it happen: "I'm sorry darling, I promise I'll get you one. I hope it is to your liking." The moment he hits the 'send' button, he rubs his face and sighs.

Diluc goes straight back inside his black car to drive to one of his most trusted tailors. He has given them many commisions regarding clothing before, and they always come out stunning. He let himself relax over the cushioned seat of his car, picturing whatever kind of reaction you'll have on your face until he arrived at the pavement before the tailor's building.

Diluc tried. He really did. He declined the offer for a designer because he wanted the lingerie designed only by him. If he were to still get a designer for it, it might take a day or two before it gets finished. Plus... it's a little... embarrassing. Diluc gets uneasy just by thinking about it.

Diluc needed it done by midnight and it's currently 10:00pm. He knew he needed to hurry but now that he himself, being known to always have a phrase ready on any occasion, had been explaining for about half an hour to a tailor that felt like he was suddenly speaking gibberish, there's no doubt that the chances of making the lingerie might be delayed.

Finally, the tailor sighed at him, exasperated with all the mind work to understand his stammers. She simply told him, "Paper and pencil. Show me when ready." And she hands him two objects that made Diluc's confidence stutter.

Diluc stares at the paper and he feels his cheeks burn with shame. It felt like his confidence just depleted. He knows full well she's just as stressed as he is because, hearing himself, the conversation did not make any sense. But was it really that bad...? Where the tailor even needed visual aid FROM HIM because he sucked at explaining what he wanted? Diluc isn't one to drown himself in shame anymore, so to save face for himself, he actually got to work.

The tailor had been observing the young man behind the rims of her eyeglasses and goodness- she can tell this man is holding back. At some point, as she stuck different pins on a gown of her own design, she contemplated whether she'd rather ask him what he would like to see on a woman in bed or why he wants to see that on a woman in bed. In the end, she waves the thoughts way. None of her business.

Diluc started drawing, straps and laces here and there... rose patterns? Not bad. Is the crotch area too thin? He asks himself then resorts to erasing the entire sketch of the bottom garment away. Is the fabric transparent? Diluc's eyebrows point down. But... that's a little too... he felt his hands reach to cuddle his length, goodness how is he supposed to-

Diluc really wanted something, but he didn't want to make you uncomfortable so he kept holding himself back and doubting each design. Even when Diluc's head spiraled with ideas, he didn't know which one of these ideas intrigue you the most.

At this point, Diluc doesn't really know where to begin with anymore, his tried everything and it's almost been an hour. He didn't want to delay the lingerie any longer so he just followed his heart in the process. Ok... ribbons. Ribbons? Is that too weird on a lingerie? Surely not. Red lace ribbons? There? Yes, his mind liked those. Attached on what color though? Maybe something baby pink or peach. He needed them in two pieces of course.

Finally, he folded the paper unequally to four, stuffed it in his pocket, and then reached for the tailor to whom he finally said the design to. He didn't hold himself back this time and openly told her of how he wanted the lingerie to look. He wasn't planning to show it, but ended up showing it anyway.

"Good thing you got it done..." The tailor told him, letting out a sigh of relief as she placed measurements on a mannequin. "You sure have grown Master Diluc."

Diluc froze at that phrase. She's not lying nor is she wrong. All Diluc really wanted to feel was the lust in the look of you... breedable and inexperienced before him but of course he can't say that so he realized that after all these thoughts, he cannot talk back. He can't. Like, really. It made him feel so awkward that he had to think of an excuse to get out of the establishment. "I'll wait by the car." He excuses, "Just call me when it's ready. Make sure it's done before midnight." And they assure him that it is to be done quickly for the fabrics have already been chosen for the lingerie.

The tailor throws him one last curious stare behind her eyeglasses and then brings her hand to sew and get back to work while musing the unexpected request. (Last Christmas, Diluc asked the tailor to make a dress for you so she already knows your size)

When Diluc got into his car, he brought both his gloved hands to his face. What. A. Night. He didn't know it was THAT hard to think of a lingerie for you. All those thinking of how you would look on those or how it might terrify you really took a toll on him. He can't disappoint you. He mustn't.

Five minutes of breathing exercises and he would soon realize how less embarassing it actually is. Now that he thinks about it, you probably asked him to buy you a lingerie to see what he wants... if that's the case... then he didn't regret his final design. So long as the lingerie compliments your body and keeps you confident in bed he can just-

Diluc felt himself slightly aroused on his seat. He needed to get home. He opened his phone screen and it greets him with the current time: 11:17pm. Suddenly, there was a knock on his car window. Fortunately, it was the tailor's assistant, telling him to go see the finished product inside. He follows the man towards the establishment and when he does see it, he calmly accepts it.

Diluc got home at around 11:40pm and you were already laying asleep on the bed. Laughingly though, your fingers are way too close to your undergarments and Diluc can't help but muster a chuckle upon seeing you so innocently sleeping after maybe, pleasuring yourself. When he wakes you up, you realize you had accidentally fallen asleep after-

You tried to explain to him, throwing lies upon another lie, until Diluc shows you the custom-made lingerie he prepared for you. Your face burned red as he threw them on your hands. "Wear it." He tells you, "See for yourself." His voice is slightly gruff and yet it is calm and soft. You put it on inside the bathroom and... it had you speechless. The theme is cute but so... revealing. Is Diluc really... into this? The good boy, easily flustered, reserved Diluc you know? Shyly and awkwardly, you walk out of the bathroom.

"Everything is see through..." You mumble and Diluc trails his lips just on your neck to whisper, "You asked for my preferences, didn't you?" His voice was rough with warm heavy breaths tickling your skin. His hands reach to touch the back of your waist and pull you closer.

That night, Diluc was rough but aftercare was still done on both of you. (am legit blushing like a slut here lmfaooo)

Kazuha ver. here

[azrakaban]

Distractions - Blaise Zabini

A/N: Hiii! I'm not dead, as it turn out, just procrastinating and forgetting things because yk.. stress. Anyway, lil life update, I've reshuffled my life entirely, and had a lot of both boy and girl drama happen so literally my mind is all over the place! My grades are doing great though which is shocking given that I've been zoning out thinking of potential plotlines sm... I've been thinking of writing another fic, possibly a marvel one? Lemme know if that's something ya'll want to see <333

Request by ilovegilmoregurlsss , sorry it took so long lovely xx

Summary: Blaise realises that endless pining isn't going to get you to go out with him. More of a lil drabble then entire oneshot, but I'm sleep deprived and babysitting my brother so suck it up buttercups <3

Warnings: fluff, angst if you squint, bad spelling, idiots in love <3333

...

"Mars' moons are Phobos and Deimos, not Ganymede and Callisto. Those two are Jupiters." Blaise says, a little bluntly, peering over your work with a tired smile. You rolled your eyes and crossed them out, him looking slightly apologetic. 

"I'm sorry. I can't remember a thing, Blaise. There's so many distractions!" You gestured around the entirely distraction free library, groaning before looking down at the parchment, which wasn't filling with words magically, much to your disappointment.

"Come on yn. You can do this. You only need twenty more words and then you're done.The bare minimum, complete in a mere..." He checked his watch and frowned. "Three hours? For a two thousand word essay? Merlin we've been here too long..." He trailed off, looking down at you. You had completely passed out on his shoulder, head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. 

He exhaled slowly, trying not to disturb you. Had it been anyone else, he might have pushed them away, or been uncomfortable but... it was you. It felt comforting, warm... and just right. And that scared him even more than having a stranger fall asleep on him.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, eyes flickering from the snow falling outside the castle, to your sleeping form on his shoulder. Around midnight, Draco and Lorenzo came looking for him, finding him perfectly content with you. 

The two of them walked forwards, opening their mouths to speak before Blaise fixed them both with a glare and waved them away, indicating your current state. They caught on quickly, both side-eyeing each other and smirking at him. 

Lorenzo made a motion like stringing a bow, and then firing it, as Draco clutched at his heart, mocking being hit and falling to the floor. He then kneeled infront of Enzo, practically making heart eyes in his state of drama. 

Blaise rolled his eyes and repeated his shooing motion, watching them walk away before sighing. He knew he had to move you - it couldn't be comfortable, sleeping upright. He almost felt guilty for keeping you there for so long. He looked down at your parchment and sighed. So close. 

Gently, so as not to wake you, he leaned forward and finished off your essay, careful to mimick your handwriting. 

You stirred for a second, before wriggling into a more comfortable position. He sighed in relief, and then grimaced. Now the hard part. Getting you to bed without waking you up. 

He gently shifted his position, letting your head fall onto his chest, He slipped his arm under your knees, and the other around your back, carrying you bridal style. You took kindly to this change in position, smiling softly in your sleep. Blaise smiled down at you, then caught himself and frowned. Smiling? At you? 

Sure, you were his best friend, and he treasured you, but that didn't mean he wanted more did it? Surely not. That just didn't make sense. You were his best friend. His funny, amazing, creative, quirky, gorgeous, beautiful best frie- oh fuck. 

Blaise groaned out loud at the realisation, first at how blindingly obvious it had been, and then second in intense worry. Was he feeling attraction, just pure teenage feelings? Maybe. But then he remembered. He knew everything about you. He noticed every little thing about you. He stored these little tidbits of information away, but why? For when? People didn't do that if all they felt was attraction to someone. He remembered you telling him that earlier in the year, when the two of you had been silently shipping Astoria and Theodore. 

You had organised a 'stake out' of Astoria and Theodore's third date, as Astoria had requested, and naturally, that meant he was coming too. He didn't remember how that date had gone. All he remembered was watching your face as you smiled, your eyes shining slightly as you watched your friend be happy.

He'd been watching you subconsiously for months now... how had it not occured to him? He loved you. But oh Godric, did you love him? Did you feel an ounce of what he felt for you? No, you couldn't that simply wasn't a possibility. And yet...

Who did you ask for help when you needed it? Him. Who's house did you stay at each summer? Granted, his mother loved you, and you loved her, but still! His house. Who did you go with to the yule ball? Him. And it hadn't been for lack of a date, quite a few boys had asked you. He remembered the discomfort he'd brushed aside when they each asked. But, in the end... you'd gone with him. 

Maybe there was a slight chance. Just maybe. Unless he'd been imagining the way you'd looked at his lips a second too long during the ball. Wait...

"What in the name of Merlin's saggy left ball sack-?" Blaise said out liud, stopping in his tracks. He quickly went silent, realising he'd spoken aloud. He looked down to find you still sound asleep, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

He had a feeling. Just a feeling, that you might feel the same. And he hoped that he wasn't wrong. 

(time skip to the next morning)

YOUR POV:

You walked into the great hall, and were quickly accosted by your favourite person in the world, Cormac McLaggen. Yippee. 

"y/n! Lovely weather isn't it? Those Cumulonimbus clouyds looking fabulous." He said with a smirk, trying to meet your eyes. 

You stopped walking abruptly, looking up at him, giving a fake smile. "You're talking about Cumulonimbus clouds , Cormac, when I'm surprised you can tell your left from your right." You looked down at his hands and sighed. He had left and right tattooed on them. You disguised a laugh as a cough. 

"What do you actually want?" You continued, biting your lip to keep from laughing. You noticed Blaise watching you from the Slytherin table, and made a mental note to go and join him in a minute.

"A chance. Look, I know that you Slytherins lost the Quidditch match, but I'm willing to put that aside and not bring it up so that you can feel better. I mean, it's not like I was surprised, you're a good chaser but just nowhere near my own skill level. Although I've only played against you once, I'll assume that it was your time of the month that made you play so badly." He bragged, puffing out his chest like an overconfident pigeon. 

"The Lion The Witch and The Audacity Of This Bitch..." You said under your breath. 

"Sorry what was that?" Cormac said, zoning back into your conversation. 

"I said I was surprised we could even see the hoops, given that your ego is so big if it was solid it would cover everything in a two mile radius. Gryffindor only won because Potter is a good seeker and you have awesome Chasers." You were stood next to the Gryffindor table, and Ginny looked up at you with a smile, mouthing 'thank you. Sorry about him.' 

You laughed and turned back to Cormac. "Anyway, McLaggen, you're not even Gryffindor chaser! Ron beat you! If it hadn't been for his injury, you wouldn't be playing. So why don't you just pack your ego into a trunk and mail it off to someone who thinks it's endearing that you won't brag over one win?" You retorted. Ginny  and a few of her friends clapped you for a second before turning back to their food, one of them cough-yelling 'misogynist' at McLaggen. You looked back over at the Slyyherin table and noticed Blaise was gone. huh.

McLaggen didn't have a reply for that, just looking infuriated. "Well if you're going to be like that, maybe I won't ask you out in future. You burst into mock tears, overdramatically pretending to cry. Cho turned around and stood up, pretending to console you. 

"There there y/n, it's okay, it's not your fault his ego is choking you alive..." She said soothingly, laughing at the expression on his face. A few other girls joined in, pretending to be overcome by McLaggen's 'manly charm'. It went on for a few minutes before Professor McGonagall told you all to settle down, but there was a fiant smile on her face. 

You sigh, looking upset as you meet his eyes. "You have the confidence of a much taller man, Cormac."

You fake sobbed one last time before hugging Cho and heading back over to the Slytherin table to sit with Pansy, leaving a speechless McLaggen far behind you. 

Pansy smiled and pulled you down onto the bench, looking around to make sure that none of the Slytherin boys were listening to your conversation before taking your hands in hers and stating quite plainly "Blaise likes you." 

You blinked a few times, processing her words before... "WHAT?" 

Pansy laughed and Astoria leaned in. "Yeah, it was kind of obvious. Earlier, he wasn't listening to Draco at all, he was just watching you with McLaggen."

"Maybe he thought McLaggen was harrassing me!" You protested, trying to ignore the rising hope in the back of your mind.

"Sureeeee. Because when you think someone's harrassing your best friend you always say 'Do you think he's asking her out? What if she says yes? I don't care if she says yes, it's up to her, it's just... McLaggen is a dick, isn't he? Not just me who thinks that?'" Astoria imitates Blaise, giggling with Pansy.

You roll your eyes at the two of them, but decide to check on Blaise, to see if he's okay.

...

You had spent almost an hour looking for Blaise now. Thank god for Saturdays right? And finally found him. You could have sworn you'd checked his dorm, but maybe he'd moved. He was sat on his bed, looking at something.

You crept up behind him, grabbing his shoulders and startling him, causing him to shove whatever he was holding underneath his pillow.

He looked up, seeing it was you and exhaled slowly, before resuming a glare.

"What ya looking at?" you say gently, aware you scared him.

"Doesn't matter to you. Why don't you go get ready for your date with McLaggen?" He spits out, shuffling away from you.

"What?" You look at him confused.

"You heard me. I'm sure you two will get together, and live happily ever after and raise world champion quidditch players. Look, I'm happy for you, yn, just leave me alone okay?" He says, clearly rambling.

You frown. "I'm not going out with McLaggen. After you left the girls and I cussed him out pretty thoroughly. Told him he that the confidence of a much taller man. He didn't like that." you laugh softly to yourself as Blaise turns around, attempting to form normal words but just making weird shapes with his mouth.

You laugh and put a hand under his chin, closing his mouth. "You thought I was going to go out with him?"

Blaise grabs your wrist and gently pulls your hand away from his jaw. "Looked like you wanted to to me." He didn't drop your wrist, surprisingly.

"Nuh uh. Got someone else on my mind." You say, shrugging.

He stiffens. "Who's that?" He asks, deadpan expression on his face.

You sigh. "Blaise, for a smart guy, sometimes you're incredibly dense."

You lean forward and kiss him, pulling back after a second to gauge his reaction.

Again, he's more frozen than Hermione in second year. Then, slowly, he reacts. He pulls you close by your wrist, letting your lips fall onto his again as he kisses you, holding you close. He pulls back after a few seconds.

"Now I know why you've been failing charms." He says with a smirk.

You poke your tongue out at him. "Not my fault you're distracting."

He laughs. "So many distractions yn... and yet I was your favourite one."

You smile, resting your head against his chest. "You'll always be my favourite distraction."

...

A/N: SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE! I've had no inspo, but finally once I'm sleep deprived I can write. *sigh* Sorry it's so late, enjoy my first Blaise one shot <3

[mxqdii]

WHERE IS PART THREE

IM LITTERALY DYING TI READ WHAT HAPPENS NEXTTTTTTY

also I have a request

so reader is dating Sam or Colby (you pick❤️). Reader is alone at a haunted location with just Sam or just Colby (does this make sense?) say it was Sam, they are just the two of them and say there were trespassers and they were threatening the two and reader has a panic attack and Sam defend them (Sam or Colby) and calm reader down on the way home.

is that doable?

when part three comes can you tag my other acc

@anythingsamandcolby

take my breath away - c.b

pairings: colby brock x reader

summary: a day with the boys doesn't go as expected

warning(s): panic attacks, mention of ghosts (??) idk.

a/n: so i see u said just the two of them, but i only realized after i finished writing it... i'm sorry! i hope this is still okay 😭

not proofread

"are you guys sure this is a good idea?" i say as me, sam and colby enter the gate

"too late now! unlocking that gate took forever" sam says, walking ahead

"we're all gonna die" i mumble sarcastically, scoffing at the boys skipping together joyfully

we decided not to vlog this one, since, well..

we're trespassing.

it's okay though! atleast that's what the boys told me (and what i'm telling myself)

"hey, you okay?" colby, my boyfriend, asks.

"yeah i'm fine, just worried about being shot by a police officer" i say, giving him a look

"calm down, we'll be fine!" he speaks over confidently

"whatever you say" i groan

"woah! guys this place is so cool, let's use the spirit box here" sam yells from ahead, taking off his backpack and grabbing the box

we all listen, hearing a few random meaningless words, until...

my phone starts buzzing, which makes us all jump

"sorry, my alarm- it's midnight if anyone cares" i say, signaling for us to get out of here

"leave" the spirit box says

"yes please- wait was that the box?" i mumble

"trespassing" the box says

"run"

"guys i don't like this.." i mumble, reaching over to grab colby, looking over realizing he's nowhere to be found

"g-guys?" i say, realizing i've been left alone with only the spirit box

"guys this isn't funny. you got me okay? i'm scared." i yell into the distance, hoping to be met with colby's voice or sams laughter

but i don't hear that, instead something worse

the bushes besides me start rustling, and i feel tears brim my eyes

"h-hello?" i almost whisper

this is too much. i wanna go home.

my legs start moving before i can think and i run back to the car, hoping to find sam and colby there, but no.

i realize, i don't have the keys, leaving me in the dark parking lot surrounded by woods, alone.

okay, it's fine, i'm fine, i'll call them.

NO SERVICE

this is when i start freaking out, because what am i supposed to do now??

the only thing i can think to do, cry.

i let myself lean against the locked car door, eventually curling into a ball on the floor

i'm currently a sobbing mess at midnight, alone and cold.

the more i'm sat here with my thoughts, the harder it gets to breathe, causing me to panic.

i try to calm my breathing but can't, colby always helped me with panic attacks, i need colby.

i don't know how much time passed, but eventually, i felt hands on my shoulders and looked up to see colby

thank god.

"colby-" i try to say more but the words get caught in my throat

"shh, baby it's okay. breathe for me okay?" he says

he sits down to my level, pulling me into his lap

"i'm so sorry. we thought it'd be funny to hide but we got lost, i'm so sorry baby that wasn't funny, i know." he hushes my cries, helping me with my breathing along the way

his hands stroking my hair and his smooth rhythm of breaths calm me down,.

(even though his heart is racing)

i snap out of my panic, looking up at him.

i shove my fist into his chest, not hard enough to hurt bad

(as if you could)

"ow!" he says, almost out of instict

"never do that again" i huff

"never again." he repeats back to me, kissing my forehead.

TAGLIST:

@opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm @theperson-nextdoor @its-jennarose @thetriplets3 @anythingsamandcolby

[frenchbreadandeggs]

The Other Variant of Her (2)

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

summary: Out of nowhere, Gwen Stacy appeared on your Earth, inviting you to the Spider Society in Nueva York. As you reluctantly took her offer, you were shown the beauty of every spider person around HQ. Meeting the founder of the group, Miguel O’Hara. You never knew him, but it seems that he does.

gn!reader, also a spider person

cw. angst, (kinda) ooc miguel o'hara, canon event (it happens), mentions of (multiple) deaths, violence, mentions of blood

words: 9.1k

first part

taglist: @a-helpless-romantic, @bozos-r-us @levisbebe @othersideoftheparadise, @nataliahemsworth

hi hello, this is the second part and the last! gotta say this was fun to write. it's currently 3 am and i have school later but gladly it starts at the afternoon so i can sleep for a bit^^, i think i went overboard with some stuff, canon events happened. hope you all enjoy this! and sorry if i could not tag the others who asked me to tag them. i promise, i tried. also typos cause i made this up until midnight so—

There was an undeniable connection between you and Miguel, but you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. Ever since he recruited you, you found yourself spending a lot of time in his office. It didn't bother you, although it did disappoint you that you weren't getting as much action as the other Spider-People, like Gwen, Hobie, and Pav. Your friends seemed bothered by it, especially Hobie.

"Nah, mate. 'E's keepin' you to 'imself for some unknown reason. Got you locked up in 'is office since day one," Hobie would say whenever you stepped out of Miguel's office. Whether you were going to grab lunch or hang out with the others, if you didn't have any pressing business in Nueva York, you would return to your own world. But you never paid much attention to Hobie's concerns. You reassured him not to overthink it and mentioned that Miguel was treating you well.

Hobie would look at you with concern, urging you to be cautious. You wondered if Miguel had ulterior motives, given Hobie's warnings, but you also sensed there was something more to the situation. You didn't want to be suspicious of your own boss, so you decided to trust him, following his orders diligently and helping him sort through anomaly reports for the other Spider-People to handle, ignoring Hobie's persistent attempts to convince you otherwise.

In Miguel's dimly lit office, you found yourself sitting in a corner, engrossed in filing an anomaly report. Holding the pad in your hands, you read through the details and typed them into the screen. When you first started working on the anomaly reports with Miguel, you weren't particularly fond of the high-tech gadgets he used. You even admitted this to him, feeling a bit embarrassed considering your age should have made you more familiar with such devices.

"Well, the tech in my Earth isn't as advanced as this," you had once said to Miguel, using it as an excuse for your initial unfamiliarity with the gadgets.

Miguel glanced at you briefly before turning his attention elsewhere. "Yeah, yeah, Lyla," he called out.

Lyla materialized on your shoulder, causing you to jump slightly in surprise. "Yes?" she responded.

"Give them a pad—or anything they can use without complications," Miguel instructed, his focus now shifting to the floating screens in front of him. His fingers flicked effortlessly across the images that appeared.

"Alright," Lyla replied, her voice carrying a hint of mischief. "A 'please' would be nice."

Miguel scoffed, annoyed at the demand his AI was making. "Please," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"Hah!" Lyla exclaimed, turning her attention to you with a smug grin. "Did you hear that, Slinger? This man actually said 'please'."

You could sense Miguel's irritation, accompanied by the frustrated tapping on the screens. With a snap of Lyla's fingers, a pad materialized out of thin air and floated towards you, coming to rest on your lap. Lyla glitched to appear in front of you, still wearing that mischievous smile. You couldn't help but find Miguel's AI both cute and commanding in her own unique way.

"Here, let me show you the basics," Lyla offered, ready to guide you through the functionalities of the pad.

"Slinger?"

A voice jolted you out of your reverie. You blinked and found a small, yellow figure hovering above your face, radiating concern. Startled, you took a sharp breath and tumbled off the metal seat you had been perched on.

"Oh no!"

"I'm okay! I'm okay," you reassured, hastily getting back on your feet and smoothing out any wrinkles on your suit—which luckily, there were none.

You turned your attention to Lyla, still a little disoriented. "What did you call me?"

Lyla tilted her head, her smile unwavering. "Your shift ended ten minutes ago—orrrr do you want to stay here?"

You glanced around the dimly lit room, the orange screens now powered down. It seemed Miguel had called it a day, without even bothering to inform you. You looked back at Lyla, contemplating her question. Shaking your head, you retrieved the pad from the floor and pressed a series of buttons until it deactivated.

"I need to go back to my Earth, unfortunately. I'll see you again, Lyla. Goodbye!"

Lyla nodded in acknowledgment before vanishing, the glow dissipating and leaving the room in darkness. With your mask securely in place, you walked towards the portal, similar to the one you had first encountered, that materialized behind you. Stepping through, you disappeared into the swirling energies, returning to your own world.

The portal dissipated as you stepped out, greeted by the familiar night sky of York New. You found yourself on the rooftop of an industrial building, hoping it was the one where your apartment was located. Shooting a web below, you gracefully leaped into the air, but to your disappointment, it wasn't your building. Undeterred, you continued swinging through the city, Kings, in search of your apartment. From above, you looked down and observed the bustling streets below. Despite the late hour, it still appeared as if it were a busy afternoon.

Finally, you spotted a familiar window and a smile formed on your face. It was your apartment. Shooting a web in its direction, you swung towards it with a sense of anticipation. Landing on the window ledge, you opened the window and entered, feeling a wave of relief. After removing your mask, you took a moment to catch your breath. It had been tiring, sitting in Miguel's office, working on anomaly reports as if you were his secretary.

"Boring? Maybe," you mused to yourself. In your civilian life, you also found yourself engrossed in reading and grading essays as a history professor at a nearby university. Reviewing your students' work, their projects, and conducting research has become a familiar routine.

"Home sweet home, I guess—"

Suddenly, there was a knock on your door, interrupting your thoughts.

"Nevermind."

You hurried to the door, peering through the peephole. Your eyes widened when you saw three familiar faces standing outside, their masks nowhere in sight. Opening the door, you were greeted by Hobie's smirk.

"Took you too long."

"You literally just knocked a second ago—wait, wait, what are you guys doing here?"

"We just wanted to hang out with you, that's all!" Pav exclaimed, his smile radiating warmth.

"Word got around that your New York is different from ours," Gwen added, her hands tucked inside her jacket.

"Obviously it's different, considering you're in a different world. And it's York New," you chuckled, gesturing for them to come inside your cozy apartment. The entrance was adorned with stacks of university papers and photographs of your close friends and professors. It was a homey space that reflected your individuality.

"I literally just got home five minutes ago. Wait here, I'll get you three some drinks." You shot a web towards the fridge, pulled it open, and glanced at your friends. "What do you guys want?"

"Anything," Gwen replied.

"Do you have chai?" Pav inquired.

"I'll take any drink that'll burst my ass," Hobie chimed in, shrugging nonchalantly.

You squinted at Hobie, momentarily taken aback, "But if you don’t have one, anything really."

After preparing the drinks, you all settled down on the couch. Pav chose a bean bag beside you, sipping his drink, while Gwen leaned against the window, holding her cup. Hobie made himself comfortable on the couch, placing his drink on the table.

"So, you're a professor?" Gwen started, her gaze wandering over the pictures displayed around the apartment. "Seems like you really love what you do." she smiled at you warmly, and you laughed, unaffected by the slightly cluttered display of photographs featuring you and your students.

"I enjoy teaching," you replied. Hobie, engrossed in one of your student's essays, chimed in.

"I like your students," he interjected, his eyes skimming the words printed on the white pages.

"Thanks. I try to encourage them to think critically," you responded, appreciating Hobie's interest in your students' work.

"Say," you suggested, a glint in your eye. "Why don't I give you guys a tour of the place?"

The four of you swung in various directions, making stops at different shops to grab a bite and relax on one of the rooftops. It was a joyous bonding experience with the three, engaging in conversations while swinging through the chilly midnight air of Kings. As you hung on a web, a burger in your mouth, you observed Hobie swinging around with fries in his hand. Gwen and Pav were amazed in your world, even offering to fetch more snacks.

With your arms slightly numb from gripping, you headed to the rooftop where the pile of trash that you all had accumulated was located. Using your webs, you fashioned a makeshift trash bag and began collecting the refuse. Hobie joined you on the rooftop, lending a hand in the cleanup as you awaited Pav and Gwen's return.

“So, how’s stuff workin’ in his office?” he said, his back at you. He threw a soda in your way, you raised the trash bag to catch it. 

You shrugged, “Nothing really, it’s just the same work I do here all over again but about hero work.”

“Have you at least mentioned him to deploy you?” Hobie now looked at you, his mask was removed so you could see his face, “It’s disappointing that I couldn’t at least see you fight, Gwen told me she said you look cool.”

You chuckled, “Well I did mention it to him, though I couldn’t comprehend what he said so I never bother to ask again,” another trash into the bag, “If lucky, you might see how I fight like what Gwen told you.”

“I sure hope,” he then took the trash bag from you, his smile somehow radiating to you even though there was nothing, “you’re a nice person, I can see it in you.”

“Though you gotta select who to be nice with.”

“Hm? I didn't quite hear that.” you turned to him as you threw the last can into the trash bag Hobie’s holding.

He shook his head, “Nah, it’s nothin’,”

Gwen and Pav arrived, each holding plastic bags in both hands, indicating they had made quite a few purchases. Pav gracefully touched down on the concrete floor, making his way towards you and Hobie, while Gwen followed closely behind, wearing a small smile on her face.

“Hey guys we got this good looking food called Kare—” Pav was cut off when a portal opened behind him.

It’s him. It’s not even after 24/7 you got to see this man again.

Miguel emerged from the portal, clad in his signature streamlined costume. The suit predominantly featured a vibrant blue hue with striking red accents, although the intensity of the red seemed to overpower the color of his Spider-Suit, emitting a bright glow that even hurt your eyes. As was customary, Miguel appeared with his mask removed, revealing his disheveled, swept-back dark hair and the weariness etched across his striking countenance.

Though it was different this time; it was the first occasion you saw him wearing his mask.

On the other hand, you were only wearing a brown overcoat with your Spider-Suit still on because you didn’t bother to change when Hobie, Gwen, and Pav arrived in your apartment. You had planned to change into your comfortable clothes when you return to your apartment, but Miguel’s sudden appearance seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Seems that our little bonding ended too soon,” Hobie said, a tinge of disappointment heard from his voice.

Miguel disregarded Hobie as he made his way towards you. Each step seemed purposeful with a hint of exhaustion. His presence was commanding, his tall and muscular frame seeming to dominate the space around him.

Underneath his mask, you could sense the weariness etched onto his features. Lines of fatigue creased his forehead, you can imagine his eyes held a distant look, as if burdened by the weight of the world.

Your own expression shifted subtly, a mixture of concern and anticipation. There was an unspoken tension in the air, a sense that something significant was about to unfold. You tried to summon a warm smile to your lips, hoping to offer a sense of comfort in the midst of whatever Miguel was going through.

As he neared, his presence seemed to envelop you, almost overpowering in its intensity.

The silence hung heavy between you, pregnant with unspoken words and hidden emotions. In that moment, you could sense the weight of his struggles, the burden of his responsibilities. It was as if the room itself held its breath, waiting for the unspoken to be uttered.

“I sent you a signal earlier, why didn’t you pick up?” Miguel said with a sigh, you can hear his strained voice underneath the mask.

You bit your lip, shoot, you took it off and left it in your apartment, “...I left it in the apartment.”

You sheepishly smiled, Miguel let’s out a frustrated groan. His hands now in his hips as he looked down on you, somehow you could figure out that his eyes are furrowed based on the moving eye lenses on his mask. 

“Next time wear it always,”

You looked at him, confusrion print on your face. What does he mean by that? You are always in his office for anomaly reports and anomaly reports alone. Why is he demanding you to wear the ‘goober’ at all times when you are stranded in Nueva York.

Miguel sensed your confused state, “We have a big problem and I need you to be there, alongsides Gwen, Pav, and Hobie. You get to have your very first action mission that you kept bugging me about.”

"Hey, I just mentioned it once, and never again because of your busy ass!" you spat at him, frustration lacing your words. His response was a small sneer, his gaze shifting to the three friends who stood nearby.

“And you three, what are you doing in here?” Miguel crosses his hands on his chest, eyebrows furrowed at them.

Pav sheepishly smiled, deftly concealing the plastic bags that held tantalizing, steaming hot food. His hands moved with practiced ease, ensuring the delicious secret remained hidden from Miguel’s prying eyes. Gwen, standing nearby, appeared unperturbed by the situation, her cool demeanor untouched by Pav's stealthy actions and Miguel’s demandful question. Meanwhile, Hobie casually leaned against the railings, skillfully employing a strand of web to secure the trash bag, demonstrating his resourcefulness and adaptability.

“Just visiting them,” Hobie said, throwing the trash in the air as it landed in the dumpster, “nothing more.”

“Lo que sea, get in.”

Without any time to spare, Miguel entered the portal, followed by Gwen. The plastic bags she was carrying were now handed over to Pav, who gave you a questioning glance, unsure of what to do with the food. It would be a waste to throw it away.

"I'll bring it back to the apartment," you smiled at him.

Miguel's words hit you like a punch to the gut, filling you with a deep sense of worry. As he explained the anomaly outbreak and the appearance of two anomalies in your Earth, your mind raced with concern for your students. Thoughts of their safety consumed you, and the weight of responsibility settled heavily on your shoulders. You remembered that they have ushered you to come with them as a bonding with the class before they graduate.

"The kids—my class, they will be in the vicinity where the anomalies appeared," you uttered, the worry evident in your voice. You couldn't help but imagine the potential dangers they might face, the chaos and uncertainty that awaited them.

Miguel's reassuring presence did little to ease your anxiety. While you appreciated his determination to ensure everyone's safety, the fear for your students gnawed at your insides. Their well-being became your top priority, and you silently vowed to do whatever it takes to protect them.

He gave you and the three instructions, you and Hobie are to scout the premises. Gwen, Pav, and Miguel are to find the two anomalies wandering around the streets of YNC. Your eyes glued on your phone, the bubble text from your advisory class president was chatting you in your group chat. She told you that they will be visiting a museum in an hour, they are using the university’s bus.

“They will be alright,” Hobie came up to you and place his hand on your shoulders, “It’s the five of us against two.”

“I don’t know Hobie—I—I hope so.” you placed your phone down on the ground where your things were placed. Since you and Hobie are scouting, it makes sense that you two will be on top of the buildings. After you gave the coordiates of your advisory class’ bus to Gwen, it did not took look for her to place a tracker on the bus as Lyla sent you a map that show’s where you students are.

“Stay focused, we found Kingpin—Green Goblin is still on the loose. Look out for him.”

Miguel’s voice static from the earpiece you and Hobi share. You and Hobie looked at each other and nod, you swing to another building and surveyed.

“Move.”

You followed, Hobie stayed before following you. You both swing around York New to meet up with Miguel. Gwen and Pav were still trying to find Green Goblin as Miguel surveyed the area and pressing buttons on his hologram.

“How’s everything?” you asked, landing next to Miguel.

“Not so good, Goblin is still in hiding.”

"If you don't mind, I'll go and help Pav and Gwen," Hobie declared, his voice filled with coolness. Without waiting for a response, he swiftly swung past you and Miguel, disappearing into the distance before Miguel could even protest.

You stood at the edge of the building, your gaze focused on the city below. The urgency weighed heavily on your shoulders as you turned to face Miguel.

“Y’know nothing is going to happen when we stand here, right? He's out there causing havoc and endangering innocent lives. We can't let him get away with it.”

Miguel, clad in his futuristic suit, looked back at you from his hologram. He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“I know. We're doing everything we can to locate him. But we need to be cautious. Green Goblin is dangerous, and he won't hesitate to attack us.”

“I understand the risks, Miguel, but I can't just stand by and watch.”

Miguel's voice broke through the solemn air, his words laced with genuine concern and a deep sense of responsibility. As he stood by your side, his gaze locked with yours, you could see the sincerity in his eyes. His words resonated within you, soothing the pain and reminding you that you were not alone in this fight.

“You’re a good person, Slinger," Miguel began, his voice steady and reassuring. "But remember, we're a team. We'll find him together, and when the time comes, we'll take him down. Your safety is important to me."

“I appreciate your concern, Miguel, but I can handle myself. I've faced villains before, and I won't back down now. I have to protect this city, protect the people who call it home.”

Before he could utter a word, you unleashed a volley of webs,  ensnaring Miguel's limbs and slowing his movement. You know he will chase you down and stop you. You won’t let him. With unwavering confidence, you leaped off the edge of the building, soaring through the cityscape of York New. The wind whipped against your mask, heightening your senses and sharpening your focus.

“Green Goblin spotted in Brooklyn Bridge!”

You heard Pav from the ear piece, following a sound of bomb from a place. Immediately you went to the place Pav has mentioned. The bridge was almost in shambles, you saw the three swinging towards the bridge and scoped everyone as they could. Without any question, you immediately went towards the bridge, grabbing any citizen you could see and place them from a safest place. 

There were falling debris from the bridge, you tried to use your webs as much as you can to stop its fall, taking the other people out of the way. Then, you heard a scream—multiple screams.

No.

You turned your head from the screams’ direction, a university bus was hanging at the edge of the bridge. The logo familiar to you, it was the university’s logo where you work at—and you knew who are the ones using it on summer break.

"NO!" Your heart pounded in your chest as you sprinted towards the plummeting bus, the desperate cries of your students echoing in your ears. Without a moment's hesitation, you extended your arms, shooting out a long, sturdy web that latched onto the side of the bus, halting its descent. The sheer weight of the vehicle strained against your webbing, threatening to overpower you.

Gritting your teeth, you summoned every ounce of strength within you, muscles tensing as you fought against the force. Inch by inch, you managed to slow down the bus's fall, but it continued to drag you closer to the perilous edge. Panic surged through you, but you refused to yield. With a fierce determination, you quickly fired another web, this time securing it to a nearby wall, providing additional support. The combined strength of your webs and your unwavering resolve prevented the bus from plummeting any further, as you held on with all your might, muscles trembling with strain.

Then a—

SNAP!

The web strained under the immense weight of the bus. With a sickening snap, the web gave way, releasing the bus from its temporary suspension. The screams of your students pierced through the air, intensifying the sense of dread that clenched at your chest. In a split second decision, you made a daring choice. 

Letting go of the remnants of the web, you launched yourself into the open air, hurtling downwards alongside the falling bus. Time seemed to slow as you descended, the rush of wind roaring in your ears. The ground rushed closer and closer, and then, with an earth-shattering impact, the bus crashed onto the unforgiving cement floor beneath the towering structure of the Brooklyn Bridge.

The scene was filled with chaos and destruction, the sound of bending metal and shattering glass echoing in the aftermath of the crash. Your heart pounded in your chest as you assessed the wreckage, the safety of your students weighing heavily on your mind.

Time seemed to blur as you landed on the unforgiving concrete floor, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic surged through your veins as you sprinted towards the mangled wreckage of the bus. Each step felt like an eternity, your mind filled with a flurry of worries and desperate pleas.

"Nonononononono," you repeated in a frantic mantra, taking off your mask. Your voice tinged with fear and urgency. The sight that greeted you was one of devastation. The bus, now a twisted metal heap, was surrounded by debris and scattered belongings. Smoke billowed from the wreckage, the acrid scent filling the air.

"Guys?" you called out with desperation in your voice, the shortness of breath betraying the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Each word escaped your lips with a sense of worry.

"Guys! It's me, Professor History— please respond!" Your voice echoed through the wreckage, a hollow plea bouncing off the twisted metal and shattered glass strewn across the floor. The sound of your fists pounding against the bus added a percussion of desperation to the chaotic scene. Your heart raced, fear clawing at your chest as you anxiously awaited any sign of life from within the mangled wreckage.

The deafening silence hung heavy in the air, engulfing the scene in an eerie stillness. There were no screams, no signs of life emerging from the twisted wreckage of the bus. Just an unsettling quietness that seemed to amplify the weight of the situation. Your heart sank, a knot of dread forming in the pit of your stomach. You strained your ears, hoping against hope to hear even the faintest whimper or stirring, but there was nothing. It felt as if time itself had frozen, trapping you in this moment of agonizing uncertainty.

No screams, nothing but a quiet sound.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of the tragedy settled upon you. A mixture of anguish and grief washed over you, threatening to engulf your entire being. Your body trembled with sorrow, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to contain the overwhelming emotions within you.

Each tear that streamed down your face carried the weight of the lives lost. Your students oh your loving students, their dreams shattered, and the futures cut short. The pain in your heart felt unbearable, as the realization of the magnitude of the tragedy consumed you. It was a deep ache that resonated through your entire being, leaving you feeling hollow and broken.

With shaky hands, you reached out to touch the cold, lifeless metal of the bus, your fingers tracing the dented surfaces. The shattered glass beneath your feet served as a cruel reminder of the shattered hopes and dreams of the students who had once filled these seats. Your sobs echoed in the emptiness around you, a heart-wrenching sound that seemed to reverberate through the desolate scene.

In that moment, you mourned not only the loss of their lives but also the loss of the bright futures they had ahead of them. Each tear that fell was a testament to the deep love and care you held for your students, their absence leaving an irreplaceable void in your heart.

As the tears streamed down your face, they carried a profound sense of loss and a desperate longing for the impossible—to turn back time and rewrite the tragic outcome. But all you were left with was the haunting silence and the painful reality of their absence.

The echoing laughter of the Green Goblin cut through the silence, its sinister tone reverberating in the air like a chilling reminder of the villain responsible for this devastation. The sound pierced through your grief, igniting a surge of anger within you.

Wiping away your tears with a trembling hand, you turned your gaze towards the source of the laughter. Your eyes burned with a fiery determination, fueled by the pain and loss you had just experienced. The sight of the Green Goblin standing amidst the wreckage, his grinning visage masked by madness, only served to intensify your resolve.

“You,” you said in gritted teeth, “you won’t escape from what you’ve done!”

You extended your arms and shot a web at one of the upper walls, propelling yourself forward to chase after Green Goblin. The echoes of his maniacal laughter reverberated in your ears, fueling a burning rage within you. The sound was like a taunt, a challenge that you were more than ready to accept.

As you swung through the city, your web-slinging skills guided you with precision and speed. The wind rushed past you, whipping through your mask. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins, as you closed the distance between you and the malicious villain.

Every fiber of your being was consumed by the desire to bring him to justice, to put an end to his reign of chaos and protect the innocent lives he threatened. The memories of your fallen students fueled your determination, driving you forward even when your body ached and your muscles screamed for respite.

There was sound of scratching static in your ears, “Slinger! Don’t go alone and chase him, he’s too dangerous you—”

You ripped off your earpiece, consumed by an overwhelming wave of rage. It didn't matter which version of Green Goblin this person was. They had taken the lives of your students, the very people who brought light and happiness to your world. They were the reason you fought, the reason you donned the mask and took on the responsibility of protecting others. The weight of grief and anger propelled you forward, fueling your determination to bring this villain to justice.

You followed Green Goblin through the twisting alleys and towering rooftops, determination coursing through your veins. The air whipped against your mask as you maintained a safe distance, observing his every move. Your heart pounded with a mix of adrenaline and anticipation, knowing that this encounter would be anything but ordinary.

Green Goblin spun around, catching sight of your presence. His crazed laughter filled the air as he leaped onto his glider, propelling high above the cityscape. Without a moment's hesitation, you shot your webs, swinging through the sky in pursuit.

The battle unfolded in a chaotic symphony of punches, kicks, and explosive projectiles. You danced through the air, agile and nimble, dodging Green Goblin's relentless attacks with a mixture of acrobatics and web-slinging finesse. Each swing and flip showcased your formidable skills, a testament to the hours of training you had devoted to honing your abilities.

But the Green Goblin was a force to be reckoned with. His strength and speed were unmatched, and his relentless assault began to take its toll. Blow after blow rained down upon you, sending shockwaves of pain throughout your body. Your vision blurred, and your movements slowed as fatigue threatened to overtake you.

Blood trickled down your face, mingling with the sweat beneath your mask. You tasted the metallic tang of it on your lips, a reminder of the brutal reality of the fight. The pain was excruciating, but you refused to let it break your spirit. You were a fighter, a symbol of resilience, and you would not back down.

Not when after they died.

With every ounce of remaining strength, you launched yourself into a final assault. Your fists and webs became a blur of motion as you fought back with everything you had. Your strikes connected, and Green Goblin staggered, momentarily disoriented. It was a fleeting opportunity, and you seized it with unwavering determination.

But Green Goblin was not so easily defeated. With a vicious snarl, he retaliated with newfound ferocity. His blows came faster and harder, each one landing with bone-jarring force. You felt the impact reverberate through your body, weakening your stance with each strike. Your energy waned, and your body screamed in protest.

As the battle raged on, your movements grew sluggish, your responses delayed. You fought to stay on your feet, but the relentless assault pushed you to the brink of exhaustion. It felt as though every ounce of strength was drained from your body, and the world around you blurred into a haze.

In a final, devastating blow, Green Goblin sent you hurtling through the sky. Pain ripped through your body as you spiraled downwards, the ground rushing up to meet you. Your vision faded, darkness encroaching upon your consciousness. The mask that concealed your identity became stained with your blood, a testament to the brutal beating you had endured.

As unconsciousness claimed you, you clung to the hope that you had given it your all.

Strong hands swiftly catch you as you teeter on the edge of consciousness, their grip providing a lifeline in your exhausted state. You couldn't discern the identity of your savior; your weariness was too profound to make sense of the details. With a profound sense of relief, you surrender to the enveloping darkness, allowing it to claim you as the pain in your battered body gradually subsides.

Miguel landed with a controlled grace on a nearby rooftop, cradling your limp body in his arms. Worry surged through him as he beheld your battered form. Gingerly, he reached up and removed your mask, revealing the extent of the damage inflicted upon you. Your face bore the marks of the brutal encounter, streaked with blood and adorned with dark bruises that marred your once serene features. The sight stirred a mixture of emotions within Miguel—worry and anger.

He told you to stay—don’t go. How could you disobey simple rules?

“Miguel,” Jessica’s voice was heard from his earpiece, “He is captured, we’re taking him back—how are they?”

“Beaten up, round up the others and call for backup to clean up the mess the anomalies made.”

“Copy.”

You groaned and slowly regained consciousness, your eyes fluttered open to reveal your surroundings—a futuristic clinic that emanated a sense of advanced technology and sleek efficiency.

The room was adorned with clean, white walls, illuminated by soft, ambient lighting that cast a gentle glow. The air was infused with a sterile freshness, carrying the faint scent of antiseptic agents. The medical equipment and monitors present were state-of-the-art, seamlessly integrated into the surroundings with their sleek design.

The furniture was ergonomic and minimalist, offering both comfort and functionality. The room exuded an atmosphere of professionalism and cutting-edge medical care, assuring you that you were in capable hands within this futuristic healthcare setting.

As you slowly sat up on the bed, a wave of memories washed over you, reminding you of the intense battle with Green Goblin and the person who had saved (probably Miguel) you from the brink of falling.

The pain in your body served as a stark reminder of the brutal encounter, but you couldn't help but marvel at the resilience that had allowed you to survive.

With a deep breath, you swung your legs off the edge of the bed. Thankfully your spidersuit was placed on a white couch, looking good as new.

Still, you have not moved on from what had happened to your students, their deaths too soon for you. 

You shake your head, you need to talk to Miguel and the others at least. Ask them what will be the fates of the anomalies, did they even catched Green Goblin. You sure hope they did.

You stepped out of the clinic, your body now clad in your trusted spider suit. As you made your way through the headquarters, you couldn't help but notice the bustling activity of fellow spider people. They moved with agility and purpose, their suits adorned with variations of the iconic spider emblem.

The HQ itself was a sprawling complex, a sanctuary for those who shared your mission of protecting the multiverse. The sound of spinning webs and the occasional hum of futuristic technology filled the air, creating an atmosphere of innovation and readiness.

Walking through the corridors, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unity among your spider brethren. The shared purpose and camaraderie were palpable, evident in the nods of acknowledgment and encouraging nods exchanged as you passed fellow spider people in the hallways.

Finally, you arrived at Miguel's office, the dimly lit room casting an air of mystery. The dominant color scheme of deep blue added to the aura of secrecy and focused intent. The office was sparsely furnished, with only a floating platform holding an array of futuristic gadgets and tools that Miguel relied on for his work.

You missed being here for some reason.

You saw most of the people you knew; Jessica, Gwen, Hobie, and Pav. You rarely speak to Peter, but somehow he is not here despite being around using Mayday to annoy Miguel.

Speaking of Miguel, again, he is on the platform—he used his infamous pose of putting his hands on his waist and looking dismayed or tired. 

You approached the platform, marveling at the advanced technology before you. The devices emitted a soft glow, their intricate designs hinting at their incredible capabilities. You knew that within this unassuming office, Miguel planned and strategized to keep the multiverse safe from threats.

Hobie first noticed your arrival, a face of relief when he saw you walking well and alright. You waved at him, pointing at Miguel, indirectly asking Hobie what the hell is the man muttering about. The punk just shook his head, no idea what was happening with Miguel.

When Gwen saw you, she immediately went to you and tried to assist you. You brushed her off, telling her that you are alright and in no need of assistance. You looked back at the platform where Miguel is whispering words in a language you can't understand.

You shoot a web at the rim of the platform and swing on it, landing besides Miguel. You spoke, "Hey, what happened—

You felt a sharp jolt as Miguel's strong grip closed around your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin. His expression was a stark contrast to the usual calm and composed demeanor you were accustomed to seeing. Anger and frustration etched across his face, transforming his features into a portrait of intensity.

His piercing gaze bore into yours, demanding your attention. The air around you seemed to thicken with the weight of his emotions, leaving you momentarily speechless. His grip was firm, almost unyielding, a physical manifestation of his urgency and concern.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he spat, his voice laced with venom. Every word dripped with anger, lashing out like a whip, leaving no room for argument or explanation.

You could sense the depth of his emotions, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders. It was evident that he had been consumed by fear and frustration during your absence, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. In his eyes, your actions had placed yourself in unnecessary danger, and he was not about to let it go unnoticed.

"I told you specifically to not chase him," his grip tightened around your wrist, you winced, "and you have the guts to fucking remove your earpiece." he growled, his voice low and menacing.

His rage was a tempest, consuming everything in its path. You could see the frustration on his face, twisted by a fiery wrath that threatened to engulf him.

His grip on your wrist was almost painful, his fingers digging into your flesh, marking you with his wrath. It was as if his touch alone could convey the depth of his fury, a physical manifestation of the storm raging within him.

You could feel his anger seeping into your own veins. You met his gaze, refusing to be cowed by his fury. "I had to do something, Miguel. I—"

But then his grip tightened further, his anger flaring up once again. "You're reckless! You think you can just charge headfirst into danger without considering the consequences?"

His eyes bore into yours, a mixture of rage and concern simmering beneath the surface. For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of understanding, a glimmer of recognition that you were both driven by a shared purpose, even if your methods differed.

"They died, Miguel! I saw them die right before my eyes, I couldn't even erase their screams in my head." you tried to wriggle your wrist from his iron grip, but it seems to tighten even more when you try to move it.

"And you chased him down, for yourself. Beaten up by him almost to pulp—what for?" his grip on you did not lose. You were now trying hard to get out from his grip, even pulling all of the strength to your body so he could let you go.

He did not.

"Miguel—you're hurting me, let go!"

"No, you need to know your lesson!"

"Stop! Please—it hurts—let me go! You're hurting me!" you cried, your free hand getting a grip on his hand and clawing it, hoping that he would let go.

None of the people below you and Miguel tried to stop, Hobie could not stand it and spoke, "You heard them, let them go—"

“¡Hobie, cierra el pico!” 

Miguel's voice erupted in a furious shout, silencing Hobie. At the peripheral of your vision, you could see Hobie gripping his guitar. His face evident of annoyance and rage towards Miguel.

Miguel's head turned towards you, you couldn't escape the intensity of his raging crimson eyes. They bore into you with a searing anger, as if trying to carve into your very being. His contorted face twisted with pure rage, a sneer curling his lips as he unleashed his pent-up fury upon you.

"Did you just realize what you've done? YOU COULD'VE DIED!"

Miguel's voice thundered through the room, reverberating with a mix of anger, frustration, and concern. His eyes blazed with an intense fury, their crimson hue piercing into your very core.

His features contorted, his jaw clenched tightly, and his fists were tightly balled up, knuckles white with the force of his grip. Every muscle in his body seemed taut with rage as he confronted you, his normally composed demeanor shattered by the magnitude of his emotions. The air crackled with an electric tension, emphasizing the gravity of the situation and the depth of his anger.

"Please—let go—I can fight for mysel—"

"I'm doing this for you, mi vida!"

There was silence.

A deafening silence that enveloped the room, leaving you and Miguel unable to utter a single word. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, filling the space with an uncomfortable tension. Even the onlookers below the floating platform seemed frozen, their eyes wide and mouths agape with disbelief etched across their faces. They witnessed the scene in front of them had already been unfolding. No creases left.

Time seemed to stand still, each passing second accentuating the absence of any sound.

Miguel's furious expression slowly transformed, his features transitioning from anger to a dawning realization, and finally to regret. As his grip on your wrists loosened, you instinctively snatched your hands away, the sting of his earlier aggression still lingering. Confusion and hurt washed over you in waves.

How could this man have mistaken you for someone else all this time? How could he have harbored such rage without truly seeing who you were? The questions echoed in your mind, a mix of frustration and sadness intertwining as you struggled to make sense of it all.

"I—" Miguel's voice trailed off as he reached out towards you, his face etched with a mixture of remorse and apology.

But you were not ready to accept his words, not after everything that had transpired. You held your sore wrists where Miguel's grip had left its mark, the pain serving as a reminder of his unwarranted aggression. A bitter laugh escaped your lips, devoid of any joy or amusement.

"You're out of your mind," you said, your voice laced with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "All this time, you've been thinking of someone who is not me, Miguel. I am not the person you think I am. I am not who you want me to be. I am not yours."

The words cut through the air, sharp and final. The sneer on your face revealed the layers of disappointment and hurt that lay beneath the surface. You leaped off the platform, swiftly accessing the controls on your watch. Fingers swiftly tapping the buttons, you entered the coordinates for Earth-14215, a world where you would no longer be burdened by Miguel's misconceptions.

The portal shimmered behind you, its ethereal presence beckoning you towards new possibilities. With a determined resolve, you unclasped the watch from your wrist and hurled it in Gwen's direction. The small device sailed through the air before landing safely in her outstretched hand.

"Thanks for the pass, Gwen."

As you stood there, your gaze fixed on the portal's swirling energy, it was time to go home.

With a steady step forward, you crossed the threshold, your body engulfed by the portal's radiant glow. As you disappeared into the other side, you left behind Miguel's office, leaving behind the remnants of a past that no longer served you.

You had made up your mind. You were done. You weren't coming back.

It was a rainy night in York, you scouted from the rooftops of the buildings. You have taken care of the criminals and threw them into jail. It's been three hours since you left, a particular white spiderman suit kept following you around and kept interrupting your hero work by helping you, without you even asking for help.

And it irritates you to the bone.

Despite her attempts to explain Miguel's situation and offer her help, you remained steadfast in your determination to handle things on your own. 

With each interrupted battle, your frustration grew. The rain-soaked streets mirrored the storm brewing inside you. You had no patience for Gwen's persistent interference, dismissing her explanations as irrelevant. Your focus remained fixed on protecting your city and carrying out your duties as Spider Slinger.

Together, you and Gwen swung through the rain-soaked night, a reluctant duo bound by their shared commitment to protect the city. 

"Please, listen to me!" Gwen shouted from the thunder.

"I think what you said is enough, Gwen." you replied, shooting webs by webs on each building to continue your swing.

"But—"

"You can’t patronize his shit Gwen, you’re out of there, I’m out of there too—and that is his problem not ours to fix, now please get out of my Earth before I change my mind.”

Your words dripped with a mix of frustration and defiance as you confronted Gwen. The rain continued to fall around you, adding an extra layer of intensity to the situation. You were determined to assert your independence and distance yourself from Miguel's issues, refusing to be dragged into his problems any longer.

The weight of your words hung in the air, a clear message that you had no intention of tolerating Gwen's attempts to explain or justify Miguel's actions. This was not your burden to bear, and you were unwilling to let it consume you any further. You wanted Gwen gone, back to her own Earth, and you made it clear that any hesitation on her part would not be tolerated.

The sound of a thwip followed by the distinct noise of a portal opening and closing confirmed that Gwen had indeed departed. A sense of relief washed over you as you realized she had respected your wishes and chosen to honor your decision. Despite the tension and disagreement, there was a flicker of gratitude within you for her understanding.

In the aftermath of her departure, the rain continued to fall, its rhythm a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. The weight of the night's events still lingered, but a newfound sense of clarity settled upon you. You were now free to continue your work without the unwanted interference.

You landed on another building, until a familiar sound of a portal opening and closing. With a groan, you spoke with pure annoyance, "Gwen, were you not listening to me or—"

"It's me," a familiar voice resonated through the darkness, cutting through the rain-soaked air. The voice that you don't want to hear anymore

"I'm sorry," Miguel's voice cracked with emotion, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

"I acted out of anger, and I took it out on you. I had no right to hurt you, to hold you so forcefully. It was a terrible mistake, and I deeply regret my actions." His voice trembled with sincerity, carrying the weight of genuine remorse.

"Please know that I never intended to cause you harm. I let my rage consume me, and I failed to see the truth in front of me. I'm truly sorry for the pain I've caused you."

Miguel's voice quivered as he began to recount his haunting past, his words laden with deep sorrow.

"I once pretended to be a husband and a father, creating a false life, taking the place of my variant self. I was unaware of the consequences, the irreversible damage I was causing to the dimension where I didn't originally exist. As the universe disintegrated around me, I witnessed the gradual disappearance of my wife and child, their existence fading from my arms."

His voice choked with grief, a profound sadness seeping through every word. "The weight of that loss, the pain of realizing the lives I had unknowingly destroyed, it haunts me every day. I can't erase the pain I've caused, and for that, I carry an immeasurable burden of remorse."

"You just looked like her."

You looked at him, both standing there, drenched in the relentless rain, facing each other on the desolate rooftop of one of York New's industrial buildings. The downpour mirrored the storm of emotions brewing inside you. A heavy silence descended upon the scene. The weight of the moment left you paralyzed, unsure of how to respond. Despite ten years of being Spider Slinger, and all the years you spent as an individual, you had never quite grasped offering comfort, let alone to a man burdened with deep-seated issues in expressing his feelings.

Time seemed to stand still as both of you remained motionless, locked in a poignant tableau. His slow, deliberate breaths were visible, each exhalation a testament to his inner turmoil. His head hung low, weighed down by the shame of what he had done to you in Nueva York. The rain continued to soak your hair, an icy reminder of the vulnerability you had exposed by removing your mask. The regret tinged your thoughts, but it was necessary for him to witness the anger and disappointment in your eyes. He needed to understand the pain caused by his mistaken belief that you were his deceased wife.

"Then?" you spoke, your voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and resolve. "Why are you even here? You have responsibilities, a busy man. There's no place for you here on my Earth anymore, Miguel."

The bitterness in your words left a bitter taste in your mouth, a reflection of the deep-rooted resentment that simmered within. You watched as he slowly raised his head, his mask dissipating to reveal his face. His sad eyes locked onto yours, piercing through the rain-soaked air. Your harsh words seemed to pierce his chest, evoking a pang of pain even though you were practically strangers. He knew you weren't her, that you were merely a variant of his wife, someone different who didn't share the memories his wife had cherished. You had never shared a life with him, never bore a child together. The absence of even a variant of himself in your Earth accentuated the anguish. It explained why you hadn't reacted when you first encountered him.

Because, in truth, this was your first meeting with Miguel O'Hara.

You were not her, and you were never meant to be his.

"In conclusion, I'm very sorry," he choked out, his voice filled with remorse and self-reproach.

Miguel's words hung heavy in the air, as if echoing the weight of his guilt. He bit his lip, feeling a sharp sting in his eyes. A lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to utter another word. After the incident, he had vowed to himself to bury all personal feelings, to become cold and detached, forsaking any attachments. But seeing you shattered his resolve. The similarities between you and his wife were too painful to bear. In that moment, he longed for the return of both his wife and daughter, even if his actions were irreversible, even if it was an impossible yearning.

"You look pathetic," you couldn't resist the urge to lash out, to release the pent-up tension building within you. The words spilled out, dripping with spite, driven by the turmoil in your heart. You wanted to hurl more insults, to wound him further, but a sliver of conscience held you back. Three words, a petty attempt to inflict some of the pain you felt.

"I know," he replied, his voice cracking under the weight of his sorrow. The rumble of thunder and the relentless patter of rain almost masked his stifled sniffles.

You knew you shouldn't be doing this, that it went against your better judgment, but...

You took a tentative step towards him, narrowing the distance between you. Looking up at him, you saw the confusion etched on his face as you approached. He understood your anger, comprehended the reasons behind it. What startled him, though, was when you reached out, gently cradling the back of his head against your shoulder. The warmth of your embrace enveloped him, a fragile lifeline amidst the tempest of emotions. Both of your arms encircled his neck, one hand resting tenderly on his head, offering a semblance of solace—the only way you knew how.

Gradually, Miguel's rigid body softened, his arms finding their way around your back as he clung to you, afraid to let go. The two of you sank down onto the wet concrete floor, the rain serving as a backdrop to his muffled sobs against your Spider suit. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, an unspoken understanding that sometimes comfort could be found in the arms of a stranger, in the midst of a storm that mirrored the tumult within your souls.

Your fingertips grazed through Miguel's damp hair, feeling the raindrops clinging to each strand. The rain-soaked air enveloped both of you, lending a sense of melancholy to the moment. As his arms encircled you with a delicate touch, you sensed his hesitance, his fear of upsetting you further. Despite the limited time you had spent together, it seemed that Miguel had placed his trust in you completely. From his role as an authority figure to exposing his vulnerability, he had laid it all bare before you.

There was an unspoken understanding between you, a connection forged in the midst of chaos and shared experiences, a bond that transcended mere acquaintanceship. And though words eluded you in that moment, the warmth of your touch conveyed the unspoken support and acceptance you offered him.

"You know, I have not forgiven you." you said.

Miguel lifted his head, revealing a visage stained with tears. His cheeks were flushed, a testament to the emotional turmoil he had endured. His eyes, once vibrant, now appeared weary and disheveled. The traces of sadness etched upon his features spoke volumes of the pain he had carried within. In that vulnerable moment, his raw emotions were laid bare, allowing you to witness the depth of his sorrow and exhaustion.

"How can I?"

You looked at him, your expression softening as you observed Miguel. His face was marked with signs of weariness, evident from the redness in his eyes and the disheveled state of his hair. It was clear that he had been through a lot, and despite the tumultuous situation, he mustered the courage to face you.

There was a certain vulnerability in his gaze, a plea for understanding and forgiveness. In that moment, you realized that perhaps he truly wanted to make amends and find a way to earn your trust. With a small, gentle smile, you conveyed your willingness to give him a chance, to see if he could prove himself worthy of your faith.

You pressed a finger on Miguel's chest where his heart is beating.

"We start from here."

[prettyboykatsuki]

territorial woes | k. leona

✮ tags ; fem!reader (referred to as leonas woman very briefly) fluff, territorial / needy leona , he is sickly in love in this sorry they're so domestic, one singular sex joke, this is a college au so everyone is over 18 for sake of my sanity, sfw but this blog is 18+ so minors don't follow please and ty

✮ wc ; 2k (? ? ?)

✮ a /n ; im so embarassed that this is leaving my fingertips actually. i do have to clarify like... i dont rlly think leona gets jealous easily but he can be kind of childish bc he's spoiled if that makes sense lmao. i was so Plauged by this i couldnt sleep its like 4am. i took my melatonin at midnight im so sick. blame @/petrichorium i am not responsible.

✮ synopsis ; leona kingscholar is often annoyed, but not usually over something like this.

He shouldn't have come to class.

The clock on the wall is agitating. Tick, tick, tick. On repeat over and over, plainly the same and piercing. Leona is sensitive to his surroundings, and particularly to noise.

He hates loud noises and sharp cries and he hates the sound of the damn clock in Trein's classroom. He's never been a fan of the classroom setting, general lack of motivation aside. It goes against his very nature to listen to boring lectures and sit through assignments he's already done hundreds of times.

All of his education from being young royalty paid off but ultimately amounts to nothing, because if he wants to graduate he still has to do this all over again.

He's a hunter, so he's not opposed to sitting and lying in wait if there's a promise of reward at the end. If all this sitting around with a twitching ear and bored sigh would amount to anything he'd be a little less annoyed with attending.

And there was one, originally. A thing, that Leona had wanted (which he can only admit to himself begrudgingly) that was worth hauling his ass out of the peaceful botanical garden and into class today. That very thing which is currently giggling their heart out to one of those idiot freshman from the Heartslyabul dorm.

Tick, tick, tick. Leona snaps his jaw close and tears his eyes from the sight, nose scrunched in frustration with a knuckle pushed against his temple.

He wants to go back to his dorm. But he can't. He won't until he gets what he even came for.

The presence of another person alerts his senses, but he relaxes upon realizing it's Ruggie, sitting on the edge of his desk with that usual smug air about him. Leon passes him a glance but doesn't say a word.

"Somethin' troublin' you, my liege? Shyehehe."

Leona all but growls.

"Shut your trap or I'll hang you up by your tail."

"Ouch. That bothered by it, huh?"

"I'm not bothered by squat."

Ruggie laughs hard at that and Leona considers throwing him through a wall. Ruggie is also looking ahead where you at, staring a little more openly than Leona is. He whistles under his breath. He can't remember the names of the two brats, but they're always together. One of them with orange hair and the other with the short blue.

"They're pretty close with those two, yanno. Heard they were having sleep-overs and all durin' their first year.''

Leona narrows his eyes. The clock ticks on. Ruggie grins and Leona knows he should just up and leave. It's stupid to be hanging around here. It's lame that he's even looking. He should just go up there and—

"They're best friends, basically. Been like that since before you two had a thing going too. Way before that, I think."

Leona knows well enough what Ruggie is doing. What Hyena's are good at, goading his annoyance to push him to act. He's looking for a show, and Leona is nearly tempted to give him one. Nearly.

You're not the fierce type like the women back home. You probably wouldn't think twice about it, just bat your little lashes and wave your friends goodbye like the herbivore you are if he decided to drag you away. You'd pester him, follow him around while he acted moody and cold for a while before frowning.

You'd get mad at first, before huffing and saying sorry for something you didn't even do. Mumbling and poking around until Leona eventually drags you in his bed to nap instead of being outright about any of it. If his sister-in-law knew he was acting like such a kid to his woman, he'd never hear the end of it. It's that voice in his head that keeps him stuck in his chair, seething.

"Not like you to be so docile, King." Ruggie says. Leona shoots him a mean enough glare that he backs away in fear.

It's not like he's being docile. Not really. There's more to it than that.

Thing is, Leona is used to being chased. Regardless of his inferiority in birthright, he's still royalty. Royalty means plenty of people itching to get in his good graces to get a taste of the highlife. Leona is used to cheap tactics of seduction and luxury in order to earn his favor - he can smell it from away. He's always half expecting to uncover secret intentions.

It never happens. You are all by all measures, frustratingly sincere. Leona doesn't really know how to respond to it. You don't pay mind to his royalty or his ability aside from a normal amount of awe. You're an herbivore firstly, and a stranger to this world after that. Whatever traits in Leona you've latched onto, he can't wrap his head around nor does he understand.

It's the first time in his life that he's gotten into a romantic entanglement like this. Where everything is all lovey-dovey and things are so important. He's always been respectful to his women but he's never been seriously in love in his life. It's different from just being decent. He cares what you think to an extent that's unfamiliar. It's not like he'd ever fix his mouth to say all that, but it really matters that he does things the right way.

Leona doesn't usually act in self-interest, to begin with. Cocky as he may be - he's still king and kings act in the interest of his people. Regardless of what it looks like, you are part of his people. His pride, in more simple terms.

It's not being docile as much as it's an effort to show some respect for you.

Leona isn't usually jealous about petty, trivial shit. It doesn't matter to him what you do or who you do it with in your own time. He likes that you're independent, too.

He is however, a territorial apex predator and a prince. For better or for worse whenever he looks at you, all he can see is to prey animals encroaching on his territory.

That's the part of him that's raring to go. Teeth clenched and agitated, brows all drawn together in frustration. Leona wants to go back to his dorm, but he wont without what he came for. It's putting him in a bad mood.

But ultimately, he doesn't move from his spot. Ruggie leaves eventually when his mood has soured completely. His head is on the desk and he's got his eyes closed, but his ears twitched at the sound of your chair dragging on the floor.

"Can you guys walk Grimm back to the door? I'm gonna go with Leona. Thanks! See you later,"

And just like that, the classroom clears of the last nuisances occupying it. Leaving only you and Leona and that ticking clock together.

He hears you walk up to him before he sees it. Your voice is annoyingly pleasant to listen to.

"Leona? You sleeping already?"

He's starting to understand why his older brother folded at every single word that came out of his sister-in-laws mouth. He lifts his head just barely to look at you and you're looking at him all wide-eyed. He wants to tick you off a little, but can't conjure up any ideas.

"You done with those little yippin' herbivores you call friends? Can we leave now?"

You frown.

"You're in a bad mood. And don't be mean to them, they are actually my friends, you know?"

He scoffs and your frown deepens.

"Leonaaa," You drag out the syllables of his name as you stand beside him "What's wrong with you?"

He hears you pull a chair up. When he finally sits up, you're sitting directly in front of him on a chair turned backwards. There's hardly any room between you. Your face is twisted up with worry.

Leona reaches to pinch your nose. You pull away making his lips twitch upward.

"I shouldn't've came to class." He complains. You rub your nose but don't say anything back, considering him.

"I didn't think it was that bad today though. I guess it might always be for you though since you know like, everything, but I don't—"

Before you can keep going, he leans forward to press his lips to yours. It shuts you up effectively. Your lips are soft. They're sweet and a little sticky - mouth warm and welcoming.

When he pulls away, you blink at him.

"What were you sayin'." He asks.

You look a little taken aback.

"I don't know. Oh, uhm. I liked the lesson. It's fun to learn stuff about this world, I guess." You stumble over your words like you're shy. It's ironic to him, but charming all the same.

He grins.

"What? You nervous after a little kiss?" He teases.

You flush.

"You're not usually that forward, dummy. Which brings me to my question again, what's up? You're sulking."

"What the hell? I'm not sulkin'"

"Yes you are. Your doing the little nose scrunch thing too. Did something happen?"

He pushes the comment about his nose scrunch away entirely because he's sure thinking about too long is gonna get on his nerves. He glares at you for a while, debating on what he should say. Truth is, he is a little pissed. But he isn't going to tell you that your little chat with friends is making him territorial. That would be ridiculous.

There's a brief moment of silence before you pause. You tilt your head, eyes shining with curiosity.

"...Were you lonely?" You suggest.

His face drops.

"You're not the jealous type usually, but you're like a big overgrown kitty. So, you missed me right? That's why you're moping?"

The tone of your voice makes him want to pinch you again.

"Watch your mouth, herbivore." He grits, agitation rolling back into his tone like a wave. And you laugh, the nerve of you. Giggle a little as you lean in closer.

"You didn't say no."

"Shut up." He says, weakly.

"Leona," You say his name again, a little sweeter. Purposefully full of affection and he hates everything about how mushy it's making him feel. You reach your hand up to his head, petting behind his ears in the place you know he likes "I'm sorryyy,"

"Do you go 'nd tuck your tail between your legs like this for everyone? Where's your self-respect, huh?" He means to say with a lot more characteristic sarcasm.

But it all comes out gross and sweet sounding instead.

"Mm, no? It's just that my boyfriend is pretty shit at being honest about his feelings so if I don't dote on him he'll wither away like a houseplant and—"

He covers your mouth with his hand and glares at you, faux annoyed. And you're giggling against his palms, all bely laughs. It's all a little nauseating for him. He pulls away by cupping your jaw instead, squishing your face together.

"When'd you get so damn mouthy?" He grumbles.

"Since forever ago." You say through squished lips. He huffs, leaning forward to kiss you a second time. You're all soft everywhere. Squishy and mellow. Leona kisses you three times in the process, each one a little more impatient than the last before releasing you.

He doesn't let go, hand going to cup the back your neck instead. He cradles your head close, sighing against your mouth.

"Annoying," He says. You smile at him and he has to look away to deal with the intensity of it.

"You love me." You say with a smile. If only you knew the half of it.

He doesn't say that of course. Just scoffs as he stands to his feet, dragging you with him. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. The warmth of your body makes him purr.

"In your dreams. You owe me for cuttin' into my naptime."

"What can I do for you my liege?" You say sarcastically, grabbing his hand openly. He squeezes it "You wanna take a nap with me?"

"Can't promise I'll get you in my bed and not fuck you about it." He says with a lazy chuckle. You nudge his side.

"You're so crass."

"You love me," He mocks. You huff.

"Unfortunately, I do. Could use some rest though," You yawn, and blinking blearily "So nap time it is. 'kay?"

He kisses the side of your head.

"Sounds good t'me."

[kitthepurplepotato]

Chapter 6 - The man in Inko’s house.

Summary: Izuku want to see his mom but he finds another man in her house instead. Also, Izuku forgets to wear a shirt to sleep.

Warnings: Izuku in his underwear, no actual suggestive content this time but there are some suggestive thoughts in there (obviously😂), swear words

First Chapter Master List

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“Tadaima.” Izuku mutters into your ear while he gives you a tight hug. He just came home from his last shift for the week. He’s yours for two whole days from now on, and it feels like a dream.

“I missed you.” You mutter back, your face flushed from the excitement. “I can’t wait to wake up next to you and cuddle. Then I wanna use the hot tub together…”

“Uhm, about that…” Izuku scratches the back of his head sheepishly. Oh no.

“If you tell me you are working tomorrow I swear to god I’ll cry.” You retort angrily, your arms snaking around Izuku’s middle possessively. By the look of it, Izuku really likes your new possessive side; his eyes darken as he buries his fingers in your hair, scratching your scalp to soothe your sudden anger.

“Definitely not, but… can we go to see Mom? I really miss her. Then the day after that we can… uhm… have the full day for ourselves. Just you and me. And All Meowt. And the hot tub.” Izuku’s face is slightly flushed as he says the last sentence but you can feel his excitement when his eyes shine in that adorable way it usually does when he talks about his favorite things and current obsessions, like that new new anime about the most popular girl falling in love with a random nerd. He’s absolutely obsessed with that shit, bless his little romantic ass. “I also want to formally introduce you to her. As my… my… girlfriend…” Izuku smiles shyly, his voice full of giddiness.

“Hmm…” You try to tease him, but his puppy eyes are too powerful. You have no idea how can he make such an adorable face and how can he still have baby fat on his face at his age. You can’t help yourself; you touch the soft skin, slowly stroking up and down then back up until you reach his freckles, connecting the dots with your finger, taking in the sight of them as counting them would be impossible. “Have I told you how much I adore your cheeks?” You mutter as you leave a tiny kiss on the most freckled part of his skin. “And your eyes… you are so handsome, I can’t say no to this face.”

“Says the most beautiful girl with the sweetest smile.” Izuku mumbles with his eyes downcast which makes him look like a shy school boy confessing to his first love and it’s the cutest fucking thing the world has ever seen.

Okay, this needs to stop. It’s literally past midnight and Izuku haven’t showered yet.

FOCUS.

“I’ll wait for you in bed.” You leave one tiny kiss on the greenette’s cheek and sneak out of the embrace, your steps quick as you walk towards the bedroom; you can hear Katsuki yelling “just fuck already”, loud and clear in your head but while you would absolutely love to finally have him to yourself, it’s kinda fun to tiptoe around each other; there is something about Izuku’s shyness, about the way all his touches scream innocence that makes your heart flutter and you are honestly not ready to say goodbye to that.

It doesn’t take Izuku too long to snuggle up to your back as he always does but the first thing you realize is that… he’s still kind of wet. Not too much, just the way the person skin’s feels like when they get out of the shower… wait.

Skin. Your naked shoulders are touching skin. Izuku senses how your shoulders tense and moves away from you; you murmur a silent “fuck” under your nose for being so weird about the situation, but hell, give the girl a warning, will ya?!

“Sorry, I forgot to bring a shirt with me and I’m too tired to get one but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

You hate the hesitation in Izuku’s voice.

“No, I was just surprised, it’s fine. Come back, I’m cold.” You turn to your other side, snuggling into the man’s pecks, silently thanking all the gods that it’s dark as your face is probably more red than a lobster’s. Your heart skips a beat as Izuku pulls your closer, his body flush against yours; your pajama top rode up in the motion so there is so much skin-to-skin right now your brain is about to combust. You can feel his abs through your belly; they are hard and sturdy but the skin is really soft, much softer than you’ve expected it to be; he doesn’t get many scars around that area thanks to the reinforced bullet and shockproof vest he wears under his hero costume. You have a really strong urge to feel it with your fingers, find every dip, every crevice until you remember them all even with your eyes closed but Izuku had a hard week and he’s probably tired to the bone so you decide to hide your face in his neck instead, snuggling into his warmth until you become a putty in each other’s arms.

“We should do this more often.” You murmur into his neck; you can feel him shivering as your hot breath licks his skin.

“Sweet Pea, I won’t be able to sleep if you keep doing that.” Izuku mutters shyly, his words followed by a pleased sigh.

“You haven’t slept for a week Izu, I’m quite sure you’ll manage.” You giggle but you roll back to your original position to let him have his peace tonight. Izuku doesn’t wait long before he pulls you back to him; after a few seconds his breathing evens out and he’s out like a light.

He must’ve been even more exhausted than I thought - you think to yourself as you slowly follow him to dreamland, his warmth seeping into your bones through your light pajama top.

~•🥦•~

Things you are not ready for at 9 in the morning:

- Izuku’s absolutely beautiful sleeping face.

- Izuku’s washboard abs glistering in the sunlight as he somehow manages to kick the covers off himself.

- Izuku still in bed, at 9AM. End of sentence.

Oh, and how can you forget the most important thing….

- The top of Izuku’s broccoli tattoo sticking out of his tight boxers as his gorgeous abs glisten in the sunlight at 9AM on a Saturday morning.

Izuku’s nose scrunches adorably as though somehow, he’s able to feel your eyes on him; he shifts to a new position and sighs contentedly, his hand reaching out to find you in his sleep; you sat down during your inner monologue so the only thing he could find was your upper thigh. He grabs the warm limb anyway, his face scrunched up in concentration as he’s trying to figure out what is he touching. You are half embarrassed and half amused, a tiny giggle leaves your mouth as Izuku tickles you by accident. His hand wonders around again, this time to your inner thigh and that’s when you whimper; Izuku opens his eyes to see what’s wrong and he pulls back his hand right away like your skin just burned him.

“Uhm… good… morning.” Izuku mutters, his face hidden in the pillow. Somehow, it sounded like an apology but you are glad he didn’t actually apologize; he has no reason to do so and you really want him to get to a point one day when he doesn’t feel the urge to say sorry for doing things he enjoys to do. For instance, every time his kisses get a bit rough, he apologizes, like it’s not the most normal thing in the world to get a bit unhinged while you kiss your loved one. He also says sorry when he accidentally touches the side of your… well… bosom. Or your bottom.

Okay, you can kinda understand the last two as you two haven’t really done anything too cheeky yet and Izuku wants to make sure he has your consent before doing any of that, but you would be happier if he would just ask you if he can instead of running away like a 30 year old virgin every time his finger touches a bouncy area.

Okay, how did you end up thinking about that?

Ahh, probably from the sight of his own, juicy ass in those tight black boxers.

… focus, woman.

“Really good morning indeed.” You look at Izuku’s god-like, half naked body; damn, those back muscles are (also) something else. You can’t wait to be able to ask about every single scar covering his body; there is a lot, some of them massive and brownish red - probably old burn marks while some of them are long, white and thin, almost elegant compared to the violent claw marks on his side. Some people might be put off by all the damaged skin, but honestly, they just make Izuku even more handsome in your eyes; they are the proof that Deku is a hero, a proof that he would do anything to save the innocent, to protect his city and it’s people. His back is like an abstract painting sitting in a museum; some people look at it and think “this makes no sense” but those who understand get teary eyed from all the emotions, of all the stories hidden behind the random lines of the canvas.

“Let’s… uhm… get ready. Yeah.” Izuku shuffles off the bed with a red face and you can’t help but giggle at Izuku’s awkwardness.

~•🥦•~

“So… this is it.” Izuku parks in front of a small, adorable house, right next to a small forest. You lived in Tokyo for god knows how long yet you didn’t know there was a place like this in the area; well, it’s quite far from the center to be fair and you never really felt the urge to sit on the train and go around the main city, so it makes a lot of sense. “It’s a small house, but mom didn’t want a bigger one. She said it would be too empty without me.” Izuku sighs, still affected by his mother’s bittersweet words. He’s such a mama’s boy!

“That’s so sweet.” You mutter, a little bit anxious about being here; you know there is no need for you to be stressed about today but it’s still a big step in your relationship, so of course it will affect you.

“Come on, mom will be so happy to see us!” He grabs your hand and pulls you towards the entrance, fingers intertwined as he opens the door and barges in without a single knock.

Well… Izuku clearly forgot to tell his mother that he’s coming over.

How do you know that? Because there is another man in her house. The man’s hair is blonde and messy, body skinny and fragile, a little bit unhealthy from the distance but there is a slight, healthy blush on his face which tells you he’s probably fine. His face is really kind and he was cleaning the leaves of a massive money plant when you two barged in so he’s clearly not a weirdo which makes you extremely happy because you would definitely have a few words with him otherwise. No one plays around with the innocent, naive Inko. No one.

The man looks extremely surprised first but then his face changes into a happy grin as he looks Izuku up and down with a proud smile.

“Midoriya-shounen!” The older man hops over to you two and hugs Izuku tightly. That nickname rings a bell.

“All Might!”

Wait.

Okay, wait.

No fucking way.

“All Might?!” You mutter incredulously. The blond man just smiles at you awkwardly like he’s a little bit ashamed of being outed this way but wants to make a good first impression anyway. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude or anything…”

“It’s all fine, my darling. Everyone reacts like that. You must be the famous Sweet Pea, I’m so happy to finally meet you in person.”

All Might has the kindest smile. It literally brings sunshine into the already bright house.

“Izuku, All Might is in your mom’s house!” You mutter under your nose while you ignore the world around you for a few minutes; it’s extremely hard not to freak out over the fact that you’ve just met Japan’s biggest hero - you are a nerd after all.

“Oh, yeah, why are you in mom’s house?” It seems like Izuku didn’t even realize he’s not supposed be here in the first place, he was so excited to meet his father figure again. He’s so fucking precious.

“Oh, well… my mansion was a bit too empty for the little old me, so I… moved here?”

Izuku almost chokes on her saliva while you can’t stop gawking at the blond man in front of you.

Well… that’s… an interesting plot twist.

“You are my mom’s roommate?!” Izuku yelps and you can’t help but sigh at that.

Two middle aged people sharing a house as “roommates”? You’ve never heard such a bullshit. Is Inko dating All Might?! Is that why she kept this a secret from his son even though they talk on the phone every week for literal hours?

“Inko wanted it to be a surprise, so… surprise?” All Might still talks to Izuku like he’s 15, making over-exaggerated facial expressions and you can see on Izuku’s face that he’s back to being a young boy, shy and nerdy, craving the love of a father he never had.

The whole situation might be considered weird from an outsider perspective but somehow… it just works. This family is special; they love with their whole heart, platonic or not and Inko letting his son’s role model to live in her house so he doesn’t get too lonely is such a Midoriya-thing to do that you are not even that surprised.

“I’m really happy.” Izuku mutters, tears welling up in his eyes as he hugs the thin man again. “I’m really happy, dad.”

“My boy…”

Aaaand… everyone is crying.

If this would be a fanfiction, this would be the perfect time to end this chapter as the emotions are so strong, the reader probably needs to take a breather.

“To be continued.” You giggle to yourself as you look around the house to find the missing piece; Inko, who’s hiding behind the bathroom door, crying a river as she takes the beautiful sight in front of her.

… Next Chapter!

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Potato ramble:

- Bro I have a confession to make: I ship All Might and Inko more than I ship anyone else in this anime. I have no idea why.

- I went to a garden center and bought a plant plushie. It reminded me of the first few chapters of this story when Deku was proud of not killing a plant, but the plant was fake so I named him Deku. 😂

- Some bad news for next week: I’m taking a break for 1 week. Life has been a bit hectic around me; I went back to full-time after being a part timer for a year due to mental health issues (it’s really not as bad as it sounds I swear.), Christmas in retail sucks and it sucks even more when you work in the busiest store in the area and I also got some worrisome news from my doctor which triggered my old anxiety and I kinda need some time to sort my shit out. I already know I won’t have time to write both of my series this week and I don’t want to ruin my upcoming birthday by forcing myself to edit and write that day, but that’s the only day I’m at home this week. So yeah, I’ll be back in two weeks! Maybe even sooner, we will see how it goes.

- Have a lovely week, guys! 💜 Tell me your thoughts! 🥦

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