#this idea came to me at the most inconvenient time ever

[jussst-lurking]

Lesbian Lestappen

Ok, seeing a picture of girl Max unlocked an entire fucking story idea in my brain! Here goes (this is long btw):

It would sort of be lestappen through the years (cliché I know) but!!! they’re both girls. So imagine, Max and Charlene in karting as the only girls and they are both really really good, Max was basically winning everything in the regional Dutch championships, and even though it’s her father who’s doing this with her, she’s always compared to her mother (maybe also because ppl see that she’s talented but no one thinks she’ll actually take this further than karting).

Meanwhile Charlene is really successful in the regional French championships and when they both start racing internationally and against each other and as the only girls in the classification people start whispering about them. Some see them as promising young talents, others don’t look on them as favourably.

Anyways, the two of them get pitted against each other a lot (as society tends to do with women and girls) and they constantly fight each other for wins and they cannot fucking stand each other (especially Charlene, because Max tends to get the better of her more often than the other way around, and she really has this mindset that there can only be one girl here.)

Fast forward a couple years: in a shocking move that nobody saw coming Toro Rosso offers Max a drive for 2015. People are outraged, say she’s too young at 17, say she won’t be able to take the pressure, write disgusting speculative articles about whether she’ll be able to keep up with the boys, or that she’s getting the seat because she’s a girl or some shit (as if you’d get preferential treatment in motorsport when you’re female). Anyways, Max enters the sport and serves absolute cunt, not taking shit from anybody, achieving multiple p4 in a car that clearly doesn’t belong there, she’s battling with many of the well established drivers and wins (sometimes) but she also gets criticised a shitload for her ‘overly aggressive’ driving style, with many calling it unnecessary and dangerous, others even joking that it’s not ladylike to drive that way. Max obviously doesn’t give a shit, says that’s the way she drives and that people should deal with it.

Then, in 2016 more shocking news: they’re putting her in the Red Bull not even half way though the season. People criticise the move left and right, again the arguments of her being too young, too immature, unable to handle the pressure of a top team, that she’s driving too aggressively and will only bring the team down etc. Max shuts them up by winning her first race for the team, with an RB 1-2 in Malaysia, and that phenomenal drive in the wet in Brazil. Rules get changed because of her, older drivers are afraid of her (see: Nico Rosberg in Abu Dhabi 2016) and the discourse around her never really stops.

People also see how well she’s getting on with Daniel, and oh, they’re vile about it! Say she’s flirting with him and manipulating him and all of that good stuff. Some people think she slept her way into that rb seat anyways…

At the same time, Charlene is setting the junior categories on fire, winning f3 and gp2 in a row, both times as a rookie, and it’s hard to look away from her. It seems almost inevitable when it gets announced that Charlene will debut in f1 with Alfa Romeo. Like with Max, there’s backlash, but maybe less so because Charlene proved herself by winning 2 junior categories in a row. Still, some question the direction f1 is headed in. (Also when f1 gets rid of the grid girls and many see it as pandering to woke culture and all of that. Maybe they even try to blame Max (and Charlene) for it.)

There is an absolute shitstorm when Ferrari kicks out Kimi (of all people!) and signs Charlene for 2019. People say the nastiest shit about her.

She doesn’t want to admit it at first, but all the vile comments and inappropriate interview questions get to her and so she reluctantly seeks out Max.

Max herself is dealing with the news of Daniel leaving and people blaming her for it, saying the team is building around her, trying to make her the first female world champion and so on.

Charlene confides in Max that she’s struggling with all the things people say about her and that she sometimes questions whether she actually deserves the seat. Max tells her that people are assholes and that Charlene shouldn’t listen to them because she 100% deserves that Ferrari seat, but also that it’s harder for them here, that they basically have to be twice as good to get half the recognition and therefore it’s important to just keep pushing, keep your head down and do the talking on track.

Things heat back up between them in 2019: they are in a fierce battle for 3rd in the championship and shit hits the fan in Austria, people are taking sides, pitting them against each other even more. The battles they produce are some of the most entertaining races of the entire season.

Things calm down in 2020, what with the pandemic and Ferrari being shit, there isn’t really much happening between the two of them except for that incident in Sakhir.

But then 2021 comes around and Max has her first proper chance to fight for the title. She grabs her opportunity with both hands and leads the championship by Monaco. Even though Ferrari is better this year, Max and Lewis are in a league of their own and all the attention is on them. Then, Silverstone happens. A heated battle turns into all out war, splitting the fan base, and Max is getting slandered and demonised by the media and she has so much pressure on her shoulders. She appears to handle it well, but Charlene sees all the vile and sexist shit people are saying about Max and she absolutely is not having it and reaches out to Max to make sure she’s ok. They start a tentative friendship, mostly bound to the paddock and even though Max isn’t saying it and it’s not visible from the outside, her friendship with Charlene, who can relate to her in a way others can’t, gives her so much strength to keep going. Max wins her first Championship in the most controversial fashion possible, but she holds her head high and ignores the people calling her a fake champion.

She takes the number 1 for herself, mostly because that’s what she always wanted, but also to remind people who the reigning champion is. The gold details on her helmet and the golden boots are there to highlight it even more.

2022 starts with a bang, the new regulations seem to be working as Max and Charlene battle for the win and for the championship. Everybody is surprised by how well they seem to get along with each other, and despite multiple attempts by the media to put the two against each other, they have nothing but kind words to say. The battle for the championship doesn’t last very long though, because Ferrari keeps screwing up the strategy and suffer from unreliability. Max is Charlene’s number 1 defender when people try to put the blame on her. They get closer, get into a habit of discussing their races together and sometimes they go out after a race or meet up in a hotel room to watch a movie to unwind. Max is always there to comfort Charlene after a bad race and they both start to fall for each other (or maybe in Max’s case she starts realising that she’s had feelings for Charlene for a while now) and then, probably in Austria (because where else would it be) Max ‘accidentally’ ends up kissing Charlene during their race debrief that evening. Max apologises but Charlene says there’s no need to and kisses her. They get together and everything and Max wins her second title and then maybe they appear at the fia gala together but they don’t explain anything? And all of f1 is going crazy about what that means and so on and so forth, and then there are those cryptic pictures on instagram and then in 2023 they are so obvious and when Charlene gets pole in Baku Max just straight up kisses her, but they both refuse to elaborate on it, and that’s how everyone gets to know they’re dating.

[wakeup01]

buttslut

If you had asked Dante whether he would ever bottom, 1, he would probably punch you. And 2, he would insist that topping gays was just something 100% straight men like him did. And he’d say it with…well, with a ‘straight’ face. It was a display of superiority and power, an act to show people their place. He wouldn’t be seen dead bent over, presenting his rear. The mere idea disgusted him, a fact he made very clear when loudly talking to his recently made friend, Cris, inside the local inclusive night club.

An unlikely friendship that only came about from bumping into each other while Dante was taking selfies in the college bathrooms. Something of a regular past time, as Cris quickly learned. Even in a public place, Dante didn’t miss the opportunity to admire his own body, smirking as several gay guys around him turned to get a glimpse. Maybe that was the only real reason he agreed to come along. Then again, he was capable of being kindhearted, in his own special way.

“You see those pathetic ‘guys’ earlier? Practically begging to be shown what a real man can do.” Dante commented, chugging down the rest of his beer. Blatantly ignoring the warning hanging on the wall which stated ‘discrimination will not be tolerated’. Yes. Kind. In his *own* special way. “You get me?”

“Uh huh...” Cris sheepishly replied, trying to hold back a wince. Looking down with disappointment, his eyes tearing up slightly. Now definitely wasn’t a good time to reveal that he was actually trans. Maybe when the sun was about to implode, yes, that seemed like a more appropriate occasion.

Dante was a somewhat typical douchebag jock in most respects, keen to display his dominance and superior body to anyone with a hole to fill. A fuckstick with a guy - rather inconveniently, attached. Dante pushed out his perfectly sculpted chest and flexed his rippling muscles while he made his openly deriding remarks as a group passed him by. Deliberately yelling over the obnoxious club song that was blaring overhead. Cris merely laughed nervously, ashamed to admit his infatuation with Dante’s body - adjusting his trousers as his dick unconsciously rose to attention at Dante’s confident voice.

“Christ, your drink looks kinda fruity. You should try some of mine.” He lifts a glass and holds it out.

“Maybe later, do you want to go dance? I kinda dig this Charli…song.” Cris’ voice peters out at the expression shot in their direction. “Maybe not, huh.”

Unfortunately for Dante, the patrons and staff weren’t too keen on his ‘colourful’ choice of words, especially when starting to talk about ‘butt sluts’, as he put it. A bit of glitter blown in his direction was all that was needed to kickstart a change in perspective. Cris watched with wide eyes as he witnessed his toxic crush’s language and demeanour gradually adjust in front of him.

Dante attempted to brush away the glitter that somwhow got all over him. “The fu—fudge is this gay shi—shizzle!” Instead he only managed to spread it everywhere, speeding up the adjustments. Dante took another sip of beer and scrunched his nose up at the taste, pushing the drink aside. His stiff and once proud stature grew limp, hips swaying to the rhythm of the club music. The plethora of swears and insults softened into a series of enthusiastic lisps and giggles. His deep voice changing pitch one word at a time. “This soOOoong s—slaps, like, a totes banger!” Dante shouts out, to his friends amusement.

“But I thought you hated this—“

“Uhhhh, as if!” Dante’s whiney intonation quickly interjects, somewhat unbefitting of the muscled body it came from, his defined pecs still pushing out against the thin fabric of his tank top.

A warm insatiable itch caused Dante to absently remove his top and shorts, revealing a jockstrap cupping his bubbly rear - which quickly doubled in mass as it comically splayed out beneath him. A result of the rainbow glitter sticking to his sweaty body. The rest of him remained built like a tank, wide shoulders and thick thighs. A meaty chest glistening under the flickering lights of the club. He was so hot, but not just in appearance. The drunken stupor had fully gripped his easily manipulated mind. Everything around him suddenly seemed soo funny.

“Gawd, my butt’s, like, pretty big. Weird. Heehee.” Dante points out, turning slightly to show Cris, causing his cheeks to wobble. “Do girls even want big butts on guys?”

“Well…I…” Cris stammers, blushing bright red at the image of his ultra masculine friend shaking his butt while effeminately biting his lip.

“Like suuuper big and…” Internally Dante was unaware of his out of character behaviour, unquestioning as his brutish dominance was purged, replaced by adorably bratty submissiveness. He was the same old Dante deep down, just…happier. And sluttier. His body unconsciously began to gyrate to the heavy bass throbbing in his head. All he noticed was the growing need centred around his tight hole. His fingers cautiously touched the jiggly mound of flesh weighing him down from behind. Dante’s eyes filled with lust as he stared at his friend Cris, noting the sight of him and all the other hot men around him. A pleasurable sigh escapes his pursed lips.

“Big and…empty.”

A couple minutes of character growth later, members of staff arrived to offer Dante ‘vip status’ at the club. A program they had setup to deal with any ‘troublemakers’. Dante didn’t mind however, and agreed instantly. Cris followed as he got directed out the back door towards his new station, taking his position as a public relief hole. Leaning against the wall as the cool night air brushed against his bare skin. All the while he was incapable of keeping his hands off his rear, feeling it up without a second thought as onlookers watched. Dante simply nodded along dimly while the club’s manager explained that he was about to be fucked and used repeatedly to atone for his remarks. That once he has filled his quota, he and his twerkable bubble butt would become the club’s next permanent dancer.

Dante smiles and says “mmkay” while pushing his hands against the wall and widening his legs - staring blankly ahead. “Like this?” There was a little sign above his head that simply read ‘hole’ with an arrow pointing down. Just in case it wasn’t clear.

Cris made sure he was first in line to try out the new resident ‘butt slut’. He positions himself behind Dante, and struggles to hold back a laugh at the sight of the once bigoted jock willingly preparing to get dicked. He definitely liked him a lot more like this - the same muscled physique, but without the crude superiority complex. Their friendship was sure to hit new heights.

“Ready? Let me show you what a ‘real man’ can do.” Cris says with a newfound sense of confidence. Playfully, he spins Dante’s baseball cap around and places his hands across the himbo’s rear, parting his huge round cheeks to show off the cherry he was about to pop - before the rest of the club would inevitably leave him gaping.

“Mm.” Is all Dante can muster before Cris’s cock forcefully stretches him open and leaves him moaning like the natural cock hungry bottom he now was. “Don’t—don’t stawwwp babe!”

[sansaorgana]

— BLESSED (I)

PART TWO || PART THREE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your daughter is starting to show character traits and abilities that you have no idea where she could have inherited them from. In the meantime, your husband is growing frustrated with Celebrimbor when it comes to forging the rings.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — There will be a second part where she finds out who her husband is but in this one she remains oblivious, although there are signs of course – to which the Reader is blind and deaf. 🤣 I have probably butchered the lore but I didn't even bother to google much about it because I had my own idea how to write it. 🙈 The Reader is a half-Elf because it is useful in Sauron's scheme (trying to convince Celebrimbor to forge the rings for men – Celebrimbor is like a father to Annatar's wife). What I know about the canon, though, is that Sauron actually spent centuries in Eregion. So, in this fic he spends a few years, which is still not a lot but longer than in the show.

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, lowkey toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Annatar but she keeps describing him as kind and noble, Annatar is not the best father (I don't think the fic should trigger anyone because it's not like he's awful either but I want to mention it here just in case), immaculate conception (sort of... lmao I don't know how to describe it), birth (not much of a description)

WORD COUNT — 6,460

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (I)

“Lord Celebrimbor regrets to inform you he’s unable to grant you entry,” you announced after approaching the human king standing by his horse after arriving back to Eregion.

You had seen him around before but you had never truly had any opportunity to talk to him. He had been so busy with the man you considered to be your uncle and your guardian that it had seemed inappropriate to ever interrupt their work. And now he was back and even filthier than the last time you had seen him. He wanted to speak to your uncle but Celebrimbor had made a promise to Lady Galadriel to never treat with this man named Halbrand again.

So you stood there and announced the news as Celebrimbor’s most trusted person in Eregion; a daughter of his old friend and one of the best human smiths he had ever worked with – and such exceptions for the Elven master were not many. And even though you had not inherited your father’s abilities to forge beautiful things, you were the most useful to your guardian when it came to helping him run Eregion smoothly. Celebrimbor was often too occupied with his work to notice or deal with certain matters. That was where you would walk in and help him just like your mother had taught you before she had decided to move to Mithlond.

Eregion was your home, though, therefore you had not left with her. The memory of your father was too painful for your mother to be here but you were quite the opposite – you loved to live in the city your father had spent most of his life in.

But without your mortal father and without your mother, you were quite alone. Lord Celebrimbor, whom you called an uncle, was truly the only person you had.

Just as you expected, though, the human king did not want to accept the information as he smirked at you.

“Mightn’t I speak with him directly?” He asked you.

“My uncle is occupied,” you explained, calmly. It was not the first time you were dealing with people of this sort. “But he wishes you good fortune on your journey,” you added and turned around to walk away.

“Are you asking me to leave?” Halbrand inquired you sighed softly as you froze and turned around once more, to face him again.

“The Lord of Eregion is asking you,” you answered, patiently.

“Perhaps I’ll just wait here,” the man smiled awkwardly and petted his horse. You admired his stubborn will even though it was an inconvenience to you and your uncle. “Just in case he changes his mind,” he added and turned around to tie his horse to the column. And as he did that, you spotted that his tunic was torn on his back, revealing long and fresh wounds on his skin.

And perhaps the Elven part of you would just turn the blind eye and leave but the human part of you pitied him. Yes, however it sounded like – your relationship started with pity. And the thread of understanding because you were aware of the weaknesses of the human flesh. You had seen your father suffering from the injuries that your Elven kin would heal from nearly instantly. You had seen his body growing weaker as he had been getting older; more fragile. And because of your love towards your father, you had known and understood Halbrand’s pain in a way that most Elves would not.

Therefore, you became the human king’s greatest advocate in front of your uncle. You were the one to tell Celebrimbor about his injuries, pleading to at least offer Halbrand the help of the Eregion medics. He did not agree. But when the evening came, you brought it up that the night was cold and asked your uncle if you should bring Halbrand a shawl.

So, perhaps it was a shawl that started it all – at least it was this way in Annatar’s version of your love story. And whenever you would ask your husband why he had chosen you out of all the Elven maidens of Eregion, he would always remind you that you had been the only one who had treated him with dignity and had cared for him even when he had been still in his human form.

Despite that noble reason for his affection towards you, it still felt surreal to be courted by the emissary of the Valars. You were a half-Elf with no exceptional talents… And yet, for you, a man of such lightness, who was chosen by the gods, would give up some of his privileges and stay in Eregion to work alongside your uncle and be your husband? It was nearly suspicious in a way but neither you or Celebrimbor ever thought of it this way. To Celebrimbor you were like his own daughter that he had never had. When Lord Annatar asked for your hand, he felt proud and blessed. And so did you, writing a letter to your mother in Mithlond with shaky hands to ask for her permission to marry.

But your mother was not really a part of your life anymore and she was a different person after your father’s passing. She agreed without asking any further questions.

A year after his arrival to Eregion, you became Lord Annatar’s wife. It was the happiest day of your life because after a few centuries of loneliness with no one but your uncle by your side, you could start a family of your own. And to have a family was all you had ever wanted.

You were standing by the window and staring at Eregion underneath with a dreamy gaze as the cool breeze refreshed your face and made your hair dance slightly in the air. You took a deep breath in and felt the overwhelming energy filling up your body. Married life was giving you a new sense of meaning and joy, especially with a man like Annatar – the kindest, the gentlest, the most noble and most humble. Even though his grey and simple robes had been recently replaced and he began to dress more elegantly, you knew that the change had not been his idea. It was Celebrimbor’s because he wanted your husband to present himself respectable enough for the rest of Eregion.

You felt your husband’s hands touching your arms as you closed your eyes and enjoyed his presence. He stood behind you and buried his face in your hair to place a kiss upon your head in that quiet moment of the morning before he would have to join your uncle in the forge and you would have to go downstairs to help with the administration matters.

“I have realised recently, my love, that I still have not given you any wedding gift,” Annatar pointed out softly and you opened your eyes to turn your head around and look at his beautiful face.

“It’s been months since our wedding… I have not even thought of that…” You admitted. “Because, to me, you are the grandest gift, my love,” you replied, truthfully. He smiled at you adoringly and caressed the side of your face with his fingertips but there was a playful sparkle dancing in his gaze.

“You are my wife and I am the Lord of Gifts. I shall spoil you with many,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Is there something you want? Something you want very badly perhaps? Name it and I shall give it to you,” he murmured as his hands wrapped around your waist and you felt your cheeks heating up. You looked down nervously and Annatar chuckled. “I can see there is something… Name it, my love.”

You hesitated. Perhaps he would find it to happen too soon. Perhaps he would find it not suiting him at all. But he was your husband with whom you had shared your whole heart, soul and body. He deserved to know about your desires.

“...A child,” you confessed, nearly inaudibly, still too shy to look up at his face.

You could sense his muscles flexing around you and becoming more stiff. The atmosphere changed in an instant and you regretted your confession immediately. After a long while of silence, you swallowed thickly and looked up eventually, filled with anxiety. Annatar’s brows were furrowed and his eyes lost the playful sparkle. He did not look angry but a bit confused and torn.

“F-forgive me. I know that a woman like me is not worthy of carrying a child of a man like y–”

“Stop it,” Annatar shushed you quickly and cupped your face to caress your cheeks with his thumbs as he kept staring deep into your eyes with a gentle expression. “I do not wish to hear of it. You are my wife. There is nothing you are not worthy of,” he insisted and you sniffled your tears back as he sighed. “If a child is what you wish for, I shall give it to you,” he announced after a short while but you could feel the hesitancy.

And you felt bad about it but you craved to have his child so much that you decided to ignore that hesitancy in his voice.

Therefore, you only nodded and you felt your husband’s hands lowering themselves onto your arms. He turned you around, so you would face Eregion again. And once you did, he placed his hands on your abdomen. At first, you found his gesture very sweet as your muscles relaxed. But the longer you stood like that in silence, the more uneasy you were starting to feel. There was a weird feeling forming inside of you – a new wave of energy coming from his hands and filling up your womb. Was it possible that…?

Well, he was an emissary of the Valars. He had many abilities and powers that the simple Elves could only dream of. You did not question it.

When he removed his hands, he kissed the back of your head and you furrowed your brows as you clutched onto the fabric of your dress on your abdomen.

“I can feel… I can feel a new life,” you turned around to meet his gaze. He was smiling at you kindly and lovingly as your eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I… I did not expect it would happen like that…”

“I am in full control of the act of my own procreation. It would not happen without my consent and will,” he explained and you nodded at him, too grateful and overjoyed to question anything.

Annatar placed his hand on top of yours and squeezed them as you let out a happy laugh through the tears of joy. With his free hand he wiped your tears gently.

“Were you in control of choosing if our child would be a boy or a girl, too?” You wondered out loud. Your husband nodded with a slight smile. “What will the child be then?”

“You will see, my love, be patient and allow it to be a surprise,” he leaned in to kiss your lips delicately.

For some reason, you were sure it would be a boy. Despite Annatar’s gentleness and kindness, he was a master of his craft and a man of tradition. He would surely want a successor.

You were so convinced that you were carrying his son that in the conversations about your child, you often referred to them as he. Annatar would only smile at you sweetly but also playfully.

Your child was born on a warm, summer night. You were in bed, surrounded by the female medics of Eregion. Celebrimbor was in his forge, nervously drinking wine and pacing around. But Annatar was by your side, holding you in his arms and letting you squeeze his hands, encouraging you gently with his sweet words and you swore, he was making some of the pain go away somehow. Whenever you squeezed his hand tighter, he would place his free one upon your forehead and the pain would slightly subdue.

The sound of your baby’s cries was like sweet music to your ears and your eyes filled with tears when one of the medics handed you the screaming newborn.

“It is a girl, my Lady,” she told you with a smile and you laughed out of happiness, taking the little one into your arms as you stared at her in awe.

“A girl?” You whispered, looking up at your husband. You were surprised but not disappointed – to have a little girl with Annatar was a vision of the future so beautiful that you could not stop the fresh tears from streaming down your cheeks.

He did not say anything to that, he only smiled sweetly at you and fixed the sweaty strands of your hair that got stuck to your forehead. Then, he leaned in to kiss the top of your head.

“How do you want to name her, my love?” He asked. “Your daughter?”

“Our daughter,” you fixed him and tried to hand him the baby. He froze for a moment but he eventually took the newborn child into his own hands as he kept staring at the little face with a very unreadable expression. “A-are you happy?” You asked, suddenly getting anxious.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Annatar nodded as his face lit up with a big grin. You sighed with relief and caressed the little cheek of your baby girl.

“Almárea,” you whispered. “Blessed.”

Focused on staring in awe at your little baby girl in her father’s arms, you nearly did not notice that he did not give you any reply. So, eventually, you looked up at him questioningly.

“Yes, yes,” Annatar nodded eagerly. “It’s perfect,” he assured you and handed you the baby back. “I shall inform Celebrimbor. He will be the most delighted,” he stood up and left the room.

A few years passed as your husband was helping your uncle to forge the rings that would save Middle-earth. And your sweet little Almárea was growing in the meantime – the older she was getting, the more you could see that she was a physical copy of you.

When you had asked your husband about it, he had answered that it had been the result of the fact his physical form was not definite, therefore his child could not inherit any physical traits. It was making you a bit sad because you would love to see bits of your husband in your offspring but you also did not want to complain about the things that did not truly matter in the end.

That she was Annatar’s daughter there was no doubt. It was something about her soul; her inner light differed from the other Elves. You could feel from the very first time you had held her that she was stronger and more powerful than any of the Elves inside Eregion. You were sure that she was truly blessed by the Valars due to her father’s origin.

When it came to Almárea’s character, though… You sometimes wondered what was causing the constant mischief, which was innocent but still present. She was a little deceiver and a little liar very often as she kept making up stories, playing tricks or making people believe the most absurd stories. Sometimes she was able to make people even see the things she was describing. Like that time when she kept blabbering about the beautiful butterflies flying all over the room.

And you saw them. You saw them all – shimmering in the light in all the possible colours. They were so beautiful that you kept laughing and trying to catch them as Almárea giggled. And that was how Annatar found you after coming back to your chambers from the day in the forge.

“What are you doing?” He froze, a little taken aback as he glanced at his daughter and then back at you.

“The butterflies, they are–” You tried to explain.

“Mummy is trying to catch the air, daddy. Is it not funny?” Almárea asked and you furrowed your brows at her.

“But the butterflies–” You started but as you looked around, they all disappeared. You looked at Almárea with a sour expression and she laughed.

“Oh, mummy, I am sorry. It was funny to watch,” she admitted to use treachery as she ran up to you and hugged your waist.

You did not like how malicious – even if in an innocent manner – some of her jokes were. But you could not be angry for too long. Not at your sweet little daughter.

“Oh… Well…” You hesitated nervously and patted her back. “It is quite alright, my dear. But that was not nice.”

“How did you do that?” Your husband asked, a little harshly. You gave him a soft look, trying to calm him down.

“She did not mean to be cruel, she had no idea that–” You began to make excuses.

“I am not talking about the so-called joke. I am asking about the illusion. Almárea?” Annatar approached you two and put his hand on your daughter’s arm to turn her around. The movement was not rapid but it was most definitely quite harsh.

“I just… I just think of something very hard and… And I can make people see things,” Almárea tried to explain as she looked down. “Is it something bad to do, daddy?”

“You are too young to play with such a gift,” Annatar’s face changed quickly from harsh to kind and gentle again as he smiled at Almárea and caressed her cheek. “Unwillingly, you have just been cruel to your mother and I am sure that was not your intention. You should stop playing with it for now,” he explained and Almárea nodded.

But you knew already that she would probably not listen. It was not in her nature to follow anyone’s requests, pleas or orders. 

The day started like nearly every other. You woke up in your husband’s arms and he was awake already – sometimes you wondered if he ever slept at all because you had never witnessed him doing so.

The hour was still early and you watched the sun rising in the skies outside your window, exchanging kisses and love declarations. However, on this day, your husband seemed to be a little tense when you peppered his jaw with  sweet little kisses. 

“What is it, my love?” You asked as you lifted yourself up on your elbow, still looking at his beautiful face and tracing the outlines of it with your fingertip.

“It pains me to say…” Annatar sighed and held your wrist softly as he put your fingers on his lips and kissed them gently.

“Why? What is it?” You furrowed your brows.

“It is about Celebrimbor and I know that what I am going to reveal is going to hurt you deeply, my love,” his eyes filled with sadness.

“Now you simply must tell me… You know how dear he is to me,” you shook your head, trying to read his face but all the years of sharing your life with Annatar, you had learnt already that it was an impossible task to ever know what was truly on his mind.

“I have spoken to him recently…” Annatar began and let go of your wrists to put his hands on your waist and roll you over onto your back as he hovered above you. “...about the rings that must be crafted. The Nine rings for the nine human kings to help their kin as well.”

“Yes…?” You swallowed the lump in your throat and gasped when his skilled fingers pulled your nightgown up. All those years of being his wife and his touch could still ignite the fire within you. You wondered sometimes how he was able to do it.

But now, with his fingers roaming all over your exposed skin, your mind was in haze and you were not able to think clearly.

“Oh, darling, I have no idea how to tell you… But your uncle does not think of humans to be worthy enough to have such rings,” Annatar revealed and you froze at his words as your eyes widened.

“T-that is impossible,” you refused to believe him although he would never lie to you. “My father… He was human and uncle Celebrimbor loved him and adored his craft. He loved him so much that he raised me after his death. It is impossible that now he refuses to forge the rings for humans… No, I refuse to–”

“That is the truth,” Annatar’s voice sent shivers down the spine since it had gotten harsh all of the sudden. “Why would I lie to you?”

“I am not accusing you of lying, I simply–”

“Yes, you are,” Annatar looked deep into your eyes as a spark of anger sparkled in his. His jaw was clenched and his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, which was causing you slight pain. “He refuses to fulfil his mission and he thinks of your father’s kin as lesser.”

“I shall speak to him,” you promised as tears filled your eyes. Annatar softened immediately as his fingers went back to caressing you and he leaned in to kiss away the small tears upon your cheeks.

“Thank you… That would be very helpful,” he muttered between the kisses. “My love…”

You loved serving breakfast the most. You loved feeling useful and to take care of your family. It made you feel fulfilled in a way nothing else could, even though you did not mind running Eregion in your uncle’s name when he required it. However, seeing Almárea and Annatar by the table, eating the food you had prepared and talking about their plans for the day… That felt the most precious and the most special.

On that day, she looked up at you with big, pleading eyes as she watched her father preparing to leave for the day. He was standing in front of the mirror and swiftly tying some of his hair strands into a bow, which would protect his eyes from being interrupted while he worked.

“Can you do the same to my hair, mummy?” Almárea asked you. “I want to wear it like daddy.”

“I shall do it,” Annatar smiled at you both as he approached the breakfast table to stand behind your daughter’s chair. “Mummy must leave now and speak to uncle Celebrimbor,” he gave you a meaningful look and you nodded your head.

“Yes, that is right,” you confirmed. “Can you take her to her class once you’re done tying her hair?” You asked him sweetly.

“Oh, of course,” your husband replied and you kissed his cheek before leaning down to kiss your daughter’s forehead, too.

After that, you left your chambers and hurried to Celebrimbor’s forge. You were scared of this conversation and you had no idea how to start it as well. You couldn’t hide the fact that Celebrimbor’s sudden change of views hurt you deeply. You hoped that you could convince him to make up his mind but even the emissary of the Valars could not. On the other hand, you were closer to Celebrimbor than Annatar would ever be. He was like a father to you these days.

When you went inside the forge, it was empty. And even though you were supposed to look for your uncle, you could not help to just roam around for a while and take a deep breath in as you smiled to yourself at all the sweet memories you had with this place – like your father… 

He had been working alongside Celebrimbor and you would run around happily – sometimes getting scolded, sometimes being shown many interesting details about their craft. Sweet little half-Elven girl that would always make everyone laugh. And as time progressed, you had been growing up but not ageing – and for your father it had been the opposite. He had not been growing up but he had been ageing. And, one day, he had eventually become too weak to use the hammer.

Remembering all those bittersweet moments, Celebrimbor’s voice startled you a little as he stood by the railing of the stairs leading up to his study.

“(Y/N)?” He asked and you looked up with a soft smile.

“Uncle Celebrimbor,” you sighed with relief that it was only him you were seeing and not some sort of phantom or a ghost. You gathered your skirts and walked upstairs to join him. “I am here to speak with you… About a rather delicate manner,” you informed him and looked him up and down carefully.

Truly, he had changed. He looked exhausted and a little uneasy as if he was on the verge of some sort of breakdown. You immediately found compassion for his state.

“I am aware that crafting such powerful items has cost you a lot and you must feel overworked…” You started. “I know you have finished the rings for the dwarves not so long ago and I am not here to rush your progress. By all means, take your time, uncle, but your views about humans–”

“Was it him? Did he send you?” Celebrimbor’s face changed immediately. He looked concerned and a bit… scared? You froze at that reaction.

“What do you mean by that? Of whom are you speaking? My husband?” You asked, taken aback. “First, you are insulting my father’s kin… My kin as well… And now… Now you are trying to insinuate something about my husband? The emissary of the Valars?” You raised an eyebrow. “It was me who came up with the idea of speaking with you.”

“Have you not noticed yet, my sweet child, after all the years of your marriage, that he plants the seeds of ideas in people’s minds to make them think they came up with them on their own?” Celebrimbor asked.

“Even if it is true, I do not see what is wrong with it. He is here to fulfil the Valars’ plan to save Middle-earth. How can you say that forging the rings to save humans is below you?” You shook your head. “Protecting that which is most fragile, most dear, is a task entrusted to all Elves,” you reminded him. “If you abandon half of my kin now, in the hour of darkness, I shall never forgive you, uncle,” your voice trembled when you tried to reach his eyes with yours, to show him all your love towards him – but also all your pain.

“I do not think lowly of humans. I loved your father, he was my dearest friend… I just… I needed an excuse to deny your husband,” Celebrimbor sighed and looked away.

“Oh, uncle, if you are overworked, he is going to understand and give you time,” you put your hand on his arm but he flinched. “Annatar is the kindest, the gentlest soul I have ever met. You used to think the same of him. What happened?”

“Do you…” Celebrimbor’s eyes found yours, “...do you trust him?”

“With my life,” you gasped at the question. Of course you trusted your husband. What kind of question was that?

“Very well then,” your uncle nodded and sighed before running his hand down his face. “I might be overworked indeed… I need a break. And after that, I can go back to forging the rings. My senses are beginning to fool me,” he confessed. “Forgive me, my dear, I did not mean to hurt you with my words.”

“Oh, poor uncle… Please, rest. Annatar will understand,” you assured him softly and wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug.

But Annatar was not as understanding to hear the news as you had been suspecting. He was smiling but the corners of his mouth twitched when you finished telling him how the conversation with Celebrimbor had been like.

“Of course, he can wait. He is an Elf. He lives for an eternity. But for the humans in Mordor time remains priceless… They suffer each day and their lives are short. I expected that you would know something about it, my love,” your husband nodded his head and walked away, leaving you a little speechless and hurt.

He was right. You had not fought for your kin strong enough but you also had too much love for Celebrimbor in your heart to keep arguing with him.

“I do understand, my darling. But I also have never seen my uncle in such an awful state,” you admitted. “He needs to rest,” you added, trying to make Annatar realise that, too. “He is not going to forge excellent rings when he is overworked and losing his senses.”

“He must finish the rings before they finish him first,” Annatar turned around to look at your face. His expression was quite harsh and it made you take a step back, therefore he softened immediately while approaching you. “My love, I am so sorry… I do not mean to be like this, you know that, right?” He put his hands on your arms. “But we are running out of time. Forging the rings for the dwarves took us years. It is going to take us another few more to forge the rings for humans, too. Therefore, we should start as soon as possible,” he tried to explain calmly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a heart in me to push Celebrimbor…” You shook your head and Annatar walked away rapidly as he turned his back on you to look out of the window. You spotted his fists clenching and unclenching but he remained silent. “I… I shall go to pick Almárea up from her class… I think she should be ready now,” your voice broke a little.

You had never expected you would have to choose a side between your uncle’s and your husband’s. They seemed to be such close friends and now…

But, before you left, you hesitated and turned around to look in your husband’s direction.

“You really should not…” You whispered, “force him to do it too soon. His mind is in the most fragile state now… He even… He accused you of–”

“Accused me of what?!” Annatar turned around quickly, startling you.

“I don’t know what exactly… But he asked me for some reason if I trusted you…” You confessed.

“And what did you tell him?” Your husband demanded an answer and his eyes turned cold. It was nearly impossible to remember at that moment that they could be so kind and loving, too.

But they were only this gentle way when everything was going according to his plan. And, so far, everything had been like that. Until now. 

You were aware, however, that his unusual anger was caused by the pressure that the gods themselves were putting onto his shoulders.

“I told him I trusted you. Of course I did. Annatar, you are my husband…” You answered, surprised that he had questioned you like that. “Perhaps both of you need a break. You are acting differently, too,” you pointed out before leaving to walk your daughter home after her class.

On your way home you bumped into your friend Mirdania. She began telling you stories from the forge and Almárea was growing bored as she stood there, holding your hand and drawing circles with her foot.

“Almárea, you can go upstairs already,” you informed your daughter. “Daddy is there.”

She nodded at you and waved Mirdania goodbye as she ran away to disappear inside the tower in which your chambers were. You watched her with a smile on your lips, especially at the sight of the bow in her head – now slightly crooked after a few hours – trying to resemble her father’s one.

Mirdania kept you occupied with her chatting for a longer time after that and you kept listening to her with a soft smile but when she eventually informed you that she had to go back to work, you were grateful. You went inside the tower with a slight eye roll as you began walking upstairs to go back to your family.

When you opened the door and heard Almárea’s giggles, you smiled widely, expecting her to play with her father as they sometimes would. But when you went inside the room where they were sitting together, you spotted Annatar being on the verge of lashing out. Almárea was chuckling and tilting her head slightly – an undeniable sign that she was projecting something onto her father’s mind at this very moment.

This time it was you walking in on Annatar being fooled. But he was not about to take it as lightly as you.

“Stop it,” Annatar drawled out. “This is not funny. Stop it!”

“What is going on here?” You looked at your daughter and her smile froze. “Were you not forbidden to play your tricks, Almárea?” You asked her and approached Annatar to put your hand on his tense shoulder.

“Daddy wanted me to try!” Almárea explained and stopped the visions from happening.

“You did?” You looked down at your husband with a raised eyebrow but he only stood up and walked away to stand on the balcony. He was angry and visibly unsettled. “What did you show him?” You asked your daughter.

Something was telling you it had not been butterflies.

Almárea shrugged her arms and avoided your gaze. You furrowed your brows and sighed, following your husband outside.

“Do not be upset, my love. I am sure whatever she has shown you was of an innocent nature,” you began softly. “Now you know how it feels like when she’s in one’s mind,” you chuckled nervously. “She did not mean to scare you.”

“It was not the vision itself that scared me,” Annatar turned around to look at you. He was still disturbed and surprised as his fists clenched around the railing of the balcony. “It was the fact I was not strong enough to make it stop. Could you ever do that?” He asked you and you opened your mouth a little. “I should be able to make it stop easily.”

“I have never tried,” you admitted. “I do not know, I cannot say…”

Annatar snorted at that and looked away again. His knuckles turned white from squeezing the railing so hard and you put your hand gently on top of his.

“Why does her power scare you?” You asked. “Is it of an evil kind? If so, how could that happen? You are the emissary of the Valars; made of pure light–”

“And you?” Your husband turned around again to meet your gaze. “What do we truly know of your heritage? Was your father not from The Southlands? And the humans of this realm… Were they not the ones who had followed Morgoth out of their own free will?”

His words hurt like knives. You took a step back and shook your head, trying to gather your thoughts. The man in front of you was not the man you had married – gentle, soft, kind, noble and humble. But you refused to believe it was his fault. He had changed just like uncle Celebrimbor – and it was all caused by the fact they had been working so hard… too hard… on the rings.

“Mummy… Daddy… I am sorry,” your daughter’s voice interrupted you as she entered the balcony as well. She looked up at the both of you and sniffled. Your heart clenched at the sight and you crouched down to fix the bow in her hair.

“It is quite alright, my dear. It was not your fault, you only did what daddy asked you to,” you gave your husband a stern look.

“I…” Annatar cleared his throat. “I was simply curious about this… gift.”

“Is it evil, daddy?” Almárea dared to look up at him with so much curiosity, respect and admiration that your heart filled with love once again you chose to forget about his hurtful accusations.

“No gift is good or evil, Almárea,” Annatar smiled softly at her as his eyes filled with kindness again. “It is us who choose how we use our gifts.”

“Daddy is right,” you nodded and kissed her forehead before standing up and Almárea hugged Annatar’s waist. He put his arm on her back and caressed it although he still looked as if he was overthinking something.

“Can I go to uncle Celebrimbor now? He promised to teach me a little about the gemstones!” Almárea smiled widely at you and you nodded. She clapped her hands and ran out of your chambers.

“I am going to start forging The Nine on my own, by the way,” Annatar announced to you when you were left alone with him. “Celebrimbor might join when he’s ready. However, the work must not stop,” he pointed out.

You bit on your lower lip and eventually nodded your head. You approached him and caressed his shoulder, though, trying to soothe him.

“I wish you gave yourself a break as well. You are overworking yourself,” you whispered.

Annatar held your hand and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. At this very moment he was radiating nothing but love, warmth and kindness. You squeezed him tighter and sighed with relief.

“Do not worry about me. I am going to be nothing but fine but I shall not rest until all Middle-earth is healed. Forgive me for my previous harshness,” he kissed the top of your head.

“Please, do not even mention,” you shook your head and kissed his lips briefly before giving him a sweet smile. He smiled back at you and cupped your face to caress your cheeks. “What did she show you, my love?” You asked, still curious. Annatar’s face went back to serious immediately.

“I asked her to show me something nice,” he explained. “And so she did… She showed me my greatest desire.”

“And that is…?” You frowned.

“The rings. All of them. Forged,” he answered and you nodded.

“She is too young to understand the importance of these items and your mission in Eregion…” You pointed out. “How was she able to penetrate your heart like this?”

“Now you know what truly scared me, my love,” Annatar nodded softly and the fear in his eyes was truly genuine but you spotted a sparkle of excitement there as well.

“Should I worry about her?” Your voice trembled.

“No, no… Not at all,” your husband pulled you closer once more to soothe you. “Her gift – if used correctly – might be the most useful for all the peoples of Middle-earth.”

“How so?” You mumbled out the question and Annatar hesitated with the answer before smirking slightly.

“Only time will tell.”

MASTERLIST

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Warnings (can you tell it's my first time doing this?) : not proofread, 3rd year!Bakugo x 1st year! you, drinking, cursing, teasing, playfighting, ooc bakugo(?), written with a female reader in mind... let me know if there's anything to add!

Word Count: 5k

Status: Oneshot

Pairings: Bakugo x You, Kirishima x Mina, Slight Kaminari x Jirou

This is based off of a small blurb that I came up with one afternoon on the way to school, linked here.

If you enjoyed reading this story, let me know your thoughts. I'm curious to know what you liked or disliked about my writing and how I can improve. That being said, onwards!

For more works like these, check out my masterlist here!

If you're an author, consider joining my first ever Bakugo writing collab, linked here.

You had no idea where it came from. 

The crush on Bakugo Katsuki was as unexpected as it was inconvenient. People often talked about his aggressive nature, his relentless drive to be the best, and his sometimes cruel, no-nonsense approach to life. And though you heard he had softened out over the years, it still didn’t ease your nervousness whenever you were around him.

Oh, and you? You were a first-year, barely a speck in the hierarchy of the school, and certainly not someone who could just confess to a third-year like him and expect anything other than a swift rejection.

But you weren't someone who acted without a plan. The crush had snuck up on you, sure, but you would face it head-on with the kind of careful strategy that Bakugo would at least respect, even if he never knew it. Confessing outright was straight up suicide; the last person who tried that had been shut down so fast they barely managed to finish their sentence before Bakugo stomped away.

No, if you were going to catch his attention, you needed to start slow, and from a distance.

You spent nights creating the perfect plan to get to him, pages upon pages littered your bed, with notes ranging from loopy handwriting to outright unintelligibleness. After a gruesome week, you could finally sleep properly, knowing that your plan was solid. 

The first step was reputation. Bakugo only respected people who worked hard, people who had something to offer. So you joined clubs. Not just any clubs—only the most prestigious ones, where the top students gathered. The Debate Club was your first target. It had a reputation for being competitive and grueling, but the members were respected throughout the school for their wit and intelligence. If you could climb your way up the ranks, you'd be in a position where even upperclassmen noticed you.

"You're joining Debate?" one of your classmates asked when you filled out the application form.

You nodded. "Yeah, why not? I like a challenge."

They shot you a skeptical look but didn’t say anything. They wouldn’t understand. You shook your head and slipped the paper into the application box.

The first meeting was nerve-wracking, to say the least. Upperclassmen were seated on either side at the long table in the middle of the room, debating over some obscure policy. You sat on the sidelines with the other newbies, quietly observing. But you didn’t intend to stay on the sidelines for long. When they opened the floor for new members to offer input, your heart raced in your chest. 

You raised your hand.

They all turned to look at you, the lone first-year standing up in front of the group. You took a deep breath, keeping your voice steady as you dissected the argument they had just been making, pointing out a flaw in one of the assumptions.

The room went quiet for a second. Then one of the seniors nodded slowly, giving you a tight lipped smile at the fact that you corrected her. "Good point."

Just like that, you'd cracked the surface.

From then on, you threw yourself into every activity the club offered. Debates, organizing events, even running research sessions—it didn’t matter. You knew if you worked hard enough, people would start noticing. 

And they did. 

Soon, you were being called on to lead discussions, and your confidence grew with every small victory.

Your next step was joining the school's Athletics Committee. You didn't exactly love sports, but this committee organized all the major school events, and being visible in those events meant exposure. Plus, Bakugo was an athlete. Nights of stalking his social media pages proved it. He might not be a part of the committee, but he certainly paid attention to the results of the work they did.

You made sure to volunteer to help the seniors in managing some of the bigger events. That was where the attention was, after all. And with every successful project, your name spread a little more. People started saying, "Oh, that's the first-year who's really killing it in Debate" or "You know, she's the one who organized the trips for the volleyball club last month."

The popularity boost was definitely expected and welcomed. Being popular wasn’t really a part of your goal, but it was a side effect of your plan that you couldn’t ignore. The more you stood out, the better your chances were. 

And then there was the moment it all seemed to pay off, if only in a small way.

You were walking through the hall, carrying a stack of papers from a Debate Club meeting when you felt it—a prickle down your spine, the sense that someone was watching you. You glanced up and there he was: Bakugo Katsuki. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, sharp eyes focused on something, someone.

Your heart hammered in your chest. He was looking at you, maybe not intentionally, but he was in your space, your line of vision. You forced yourself to keep walking, keeping your face neutral. You weren’t ready to engage. Not yet at least.

But the fact that he was there, that you were in proximity at all, was a step forward. And this was only the beginning. You had a lot more work to do, a lot more groundwork to lay before you could even think about confessing.

For now, you were content to keep working from the shadows, getting stronger, building up your reputation, until one day, you wouldn't be the quiet first-year anymore.

One day, you’d be someone who Bakugo had no choice but to notice. 

The ripple effect of your popularity was undeniable. Within a few months, you had transitioned from a shy first-year to one of the most recognized faces yin U.A. High. Your hard work in the Debate Club and the Athletics Committee had paid off, and suddenly, people were eager to include you in their circles. 

It was overwhelming, sure, but at least you had people at your beck and call. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the whole thing.

Your tight-knitted circle of friends were just as outgoing as you were. Some were sporty, others academically gifted while others were just rich and nothing more.Who were you to complain, especially when they always had your back, no matter what?

But what thrilled you the most was the friendships you had formed with a cool upperclassman: Jiro. She was the drummer in the music club, and had taught you everything you knew so far. Eventually, you found out that Bakugo loved playing the drums. Bonus for you, I guess. 

She introduced you to her circle of friends who were strong, talented girls with sparkling personalities, and you couldn’t have asked for a better support system. It took you a while to learn their names: you never saw any of them before, but according to Kiera, they were actually really close to your blond haired darling.

It didn’t take long for the four of them to invite you to a sleepover in the 3A dorms—an event that was surely monumental. “It’s going to be so much fun!” Ochako exclaimed, her eyes bright with excitement. “Just us girls! We’ll have snacks, movies, and maybe even some games!”

“Yeah, plus we need pics for my Insta. Y/n’s gonna be here and I want the whole of UA to know we’ve got a new popular girl to add to our circle.” Momo noted, scrolling on her phone.

“Oh, cool.” you shrugged, but inside you were thrilled at the prospect of possibly seeing Bakugo. He had better been down in the common rooms when you arrived there. Unfortunately, that was one more thing you learned that night – Bakugo slept no later than 9PM. 

“Does Bakugo ever hang out with you guys?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Sometimes,” Momo said thoughtfully. “He usually comes by when he feels like it. He’s in a different league, but I think he appreciates being around us.”

Bingo.

“Anyways! Care to join the Bakusquad for lunch tomorrow?” Mina suddenly squeals, holding both of your hands in hers. 

“Uh, sure?” you respond quizzically. 

“No fair! I was about to ask her to join the Dekusquad for lunch.” Ochako whined, crossing her arms and pouting. This caused Mina to stick her tongue out at her. “Too late, sweets! Y/n, don’t you dare forget!”

“I won’t?” 

The weeks flew by like a whirlwind of laughter, training, and late-night study sessions with your friends. Your relationship with Bakugo's circle of upperclassmen had deepened, and with every event you attended, you felt more at ease. They welcomed you like one of their own, and honestly, you were glad to have people who had your back. Denki even went as far as calling you “his little sister”, which weirded you out at first but eventually it stuck to you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A week after examinations, Denki and Sero announced the party they were hosting. “It’ll be fun, punch. C’mon, there’s gonna be a DJ, drinks and dancing. What more could anyone ask for?” Sero was currently walking behind you, being a little pest as he tried convincing you to go.

“I’ll think about it– who’s gonna be there?” You asked suddenly, turning around to face him. The close contact was more than you expected it and caused you to stumble back a bit, books tumbling out of your hands, clattering to the floor. But before you could fall, a pair of strong hands caught your waist and helped you up, while another gripped onto your wrist and upper arm.

Opening your eyes, you were met with Sero’s concerned gaze. Wait, if he was holding your hands, who was behind you? 

“Ya alright?” 

ItsBakugoohmygosh-

“Yeah I’m okay, but my books aren’t.” you chuckle, stooping down to collect them, as the two boys assisted you. 

“Bakugo, tell her how cool my parties are!” Sero begged the crimson eyed male, who eyed him in suspicion. “She doesn’t wanna go!” he practically cried at this point. Bakugo shrugged, looking at you. “His parties are shit – don’t go.”

“Wha- Hey!” Sero swatted his arm lightly and you laughed, your voice tugging on Bakugo’s heartstrings. 

As he handed you back your books, your hands brushed and a zap of electricity flowed through you. “Are you going?” The question slipped out of your mouth before you even had the time to second chance it.

“He is.” Sero answered before Bakugo could even get a word in. “What he said.” he grumbled, turning around. “See you at the party?” he asked, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“Mhm!” 

“Wow, so all it takes is one question from Bakugo Katsuki, noted.” 

The night of the party arrived quicker than you had anticipated. Mina had spent the entire couple days hyping it up, talking about how it was going to be the “event of the semester.” You could already feel the buzz of excitement in the air when you arrived at the 3A dorms. Unsurprisingly, you weren’t the only freshman there; there were some who you knew and others you didn’t.

The music was loud, the lights low, and people were already spilling out onto the balconies, chatting and laughing. You weren’t much of a drinker—something your friends were all too aware of—but Mina handed you a cup of punch, insisting that it was “mostly juice.” You took a tentative sip, feeling the sweetness on your tongue as you tried to relax into the lively atmosphere. 

“You’re gorgeous!” she spun you around. The mini dress you wore sat mid-thigh and was a stunning strapless number, with a small heart-shaped cutout just between the bust, adding a flirty and eye-catching detail without being too revealing. You paired it with silver accessories, including a delicate necklace, matching earrings, and black strappy heels to complete the chic, head-turning look.

“Thank you! You look so cute too!” you could never pull off a mini skirt, thigh high boots and tube top like Mina did. She was so chill about it, too.

You and Mina chatted for a while, standing near the snack table as the party buzzed around you. She was going on about how Kirishima had been “so sweet lately” and how she thought he might do something cute tonight. You laughed, shaking your head. Mina was always bubbly when it came to her relationship, and honestly, it was adorable.

"You know what?" Mina suddenly interrupted herself, eyes lighting up. "You have to come sit with us. The whole group’s there already!"

“Oh, Mina, I don’t know—” you began, but before you could finish your sentence, she grabbed your hand and dragged you along without hesitation.

“You’ll be fine! You know everyone!” she beamed, practically bouncing with excitement.

You were led across the crowded room, dodging groups of people as you approached a large circular couch where the rest of the squad was hanging out. Kirishima waved enthusiastically the moment he spotted Mina. “There you are! We were wondering where you ran off to!”

Mina slid in beside him, immediately nestling into his side. “I was hyping Y/N up! Look at her, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Kirishima grinned and gave you a thumbs up. “You do look great, Y/N! That dress is killer.”

You smiled, feeling a little shy under the sudden attention, hands playing with the ring on your finger. “Thanks, Kirishima.”

Denki Kaminari, sitting next to Jirou, perked up at the sound of your voice. “Hey, Y/N! Come sit with us!” he called out, pointing to the empty spot between Todoroki and Bakugo. You noticed Bakugo glance over at you for a brief moment before turning back to his drink, seemingly uninterested—but that didn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat.

With no graceful way to decline, you made your way over and slid into the seat next to Todoroki. Midoriya gave you a warm smile. "Hey, Y/N! It’s nice to see you here."

“Hey Izu,” you greeted him back, trying to act casual as you settled into the group.

Jirou raised her cup to you, a smirk playing on her lips. “Welcome to the cool kids' corner,” she teased, earning a nudge from Kaminari.

As the conversation flowed around you, you found yourself slowly relaxing. Mina and Kirishima were being their usual goofy, affectionate selves, while Kaminari kept cracking jokes, trying to get a reaction out of Jirou, who would roll her eyes but smile nonetheless.

Midoriya was deep in conversation with Momo about some new training strategy, and Todoroki chimed in every now and then with his calm, thoughtful remarks.

But then there was Bakugo.

He sat quietly on the other side of you, his eyes occasionally flicking over to meet yours, though they never stayed long. His usual scowl was present, but he didn’t seem as agitated as he usually was. Maybe it was the party atmosphere, or maybe it was something else, but his presence felt less intimidating and more… charged. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Bakugo,” Kaminari started, leaning forward with a mischievous grin, “you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. Usually, you’re the loudest one here.”

Bakugo shot him a glare. “Shut up, idiot. ‘M not in the mood for your crap.”

Jirou chuckled, shaking her head. “Give it a rest, Denks.”

Mina nudged Kirishima and whispered something into his ear, causing him to laugh before turning to you. “So, Y/N, having fun? Don’t let these ugly guys scare you off.”

You smiled, trying to keep your cool. “I’m good! You guys are great.”

“See? She’s not scared of you, Bakugo! Loosen up a bit and talk to her, you’re making her feel shy!” Mina teased, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Bakugo’s crimson eyes snapped to Mina, then flicked to you for a brief second before he scoffed, looking away. “Like I care. Plus, ya just made her embarrassed.”

Everyone laughed at his typical response, but your heart raced. Was he flustered?

You weren’t sure, but you knew one thing: being here, surrounded by friends, and even sitting near Bakugo felt like another step in your plan—a plan that was unfolding better than you could’ve hoped.

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at Mina’s teasing, especially as all eyes shifted towards you and Bakugo for a moment. His quick response, dismissing Mina with a scoff, made your pulse race even faster. He was trying to act unbothered, but there was something different in his tone—almost defensive, like he was deflecting more than usual.

“Aw, come on, Bakugo,” Kirishima chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. “Y/N’s cool. You don’t have to be such a hardass all the time.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes, his scowl deepening. “I’m not being a ‘hardass,’ I’m just not in the mood for dumbass conversations,” he muttered, taking another swig of his drink.

You tried to suppress a smile, knowing that this was typical Bakugo behavior. But there was something about the way his gaze had lingered on you earlier, even for just a split second, that made you wonder if there was more to it.

Kaminari leaned closer to you. “Hey, Y/N, you know Bakugo’s not as scary as he looks, right? He’s actually kinda soft under all that yelling.”

Bakugo shot him a lethal glare. “You wanna die, Sparky?”

“See what I mean?” Kaminari whispered dramatically, making you and Jirou stifle your laughs.

“Alright, alright, let’s give Kacchan a break before he actually murders someone,” Midoriya chimed in, a sheepish smile on his face as he tried to calm things down. “How’s your night going, Y/N? Are you having fun so far?”

You nodded, appreciating Midoriya’s attempt to steer the conversation back to neutral ground. “Yeah, it’s been fun! This is actually my first big party here, so I’m still getting used to the whole vibe.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” Todoroki added, his cool, even tone putting you at ease.

You hummed, noticing a couple of your classmates approaching. “Heyyy, love the dress.” Kiera started, passing you a drink. “Drink this and loosen up a little.”

You took it, the scent of alcohol stinging your nose. Taking a sip, you made a face and placed the small glass on the table. “Ew.” 

The group of girls laughed, some eyeing up the guys around you. Mina glared at one of them. “This one’s taken.” she placed a hand on Kirishima’s thigh and the redhead blushed, tightening his hold around her waist. 

“C’mon, dance with us!” Hana spoke up, grabbing your wrist and yanking you up, causing you to nearly fall onto Bakugo. “Fuck, sorry.” you winced and pulled your hand away from his forearm that you used to stabilize yourself. 

Bakugo gritted his teeth, feeling an unfamiliar wave of frustration as he watched you being pulled away to the dance floor. His gaze remained locked on you, unable to tear himself away even as he sipped his drink. It wasn’t like him to care, much less feel this agitated over something so trivial. But there was something about the way you moved—unintentional, natural, and carefree—that gnawed at him.

You had nearly fallen into him, and for a split second, Bakugo had tensed, bracing for the usual awkwardness that came with moments like that. But you’d apologized quickly, not making a big deal of it, and he almost regretted how quickly you’d moved on, how easily you’d been pulled away by your friends.

From his spot at the table, Bakugo’s eyes followed you across the room, watching as you laughed and twirled with the group of girls, your earlier awkwardness melting away. You were smiling, your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and even though you’d placed the drink down earlier, it was clear you were beginning to loosen up.

He hated that someone else had done that. That someone else had dragged you onto the dance floor, made you laugh like that, gotten you to relax when he’d wanted to be the one to talk to you.

Without thinking, Bakugo downed his shot, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the frustration bubbling inside him. He set the glass down with a little more force than necessary, the clink of it on the table pulling the attention of Kirishima beside him.

“You good, bro?” Kirishima asked, his eyes wide and concerned as he pulled Mina closer to his side. The redhead could sense the shift in Bakugo’s mood, even if Bakugo didn’t say anything.

“Tch, I’m fine,” Bakugo muttered, though his tone was sharper than usual. His eyes flickered back to you, watching as you swayed to the music, your movements graceful and relaxed. He clenched his jaw.

It wasn’t like him to obsess over something like this. Normally, he would’ve shrugged off any distractions and focused on something productive—training, strategy, something that kept him grounded. But ever since you had started showing up more in his line of sight, getting closer to his friends, and worming your way into his circle, Bakugo had felt something shift.

He didn’t know why it bugged him so much that you were here, in this party, dancing with other people instead of talking to him. Hell, he barely even knew you. Sure, you were a first-year, someone who had made a bit of a name for yourself in the clubs and activities around school, but that was it, right? That was all it was supposed to be.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized you weren’t just some first-year anymore. You had worked your way into his world, his group, and without him even realizing it, you’d managed to make yourself… noticeable. And Bakugo didn’t notice just anyone.

"You're staring," Kirishima said with a knowing grin, nudging Bakugo’s shoulder. "If you’re interested, maybe you should just go talk to her."

Bakugo glared at him, lips curling into a snarl. "Shut up, shitty hair. Mind your own business."

Kirishima laughed, unbothered by Bakugo’s usual temper. "Just saying, man. Looks like you’ve got something on your mind."

Bakugo growled under his breath, but Kirishima’s words hung in the air. He hated admitting it, even to himself, but maybe he did want to talk to you. Maybe that’s why he was so angry now—because you were out there having fun, and he wasn’t part of it.

You hadn’t planned on drinking too much, but the atmosphere was contagious, and you found yourself swept up in the revelry.

With each sip, the world around you became brighter, the music more vibrant. You joined your friends in dancing, letting go of all your inhibitions. But as the night wore on, you felt the effects of the alcohol creeping in, your laughter growing louder and your thoughts muddier. 

As you swayed and twirled, you couldn’t help but feel elated, but the excitement soon turned into a familiar pang of longing as your gaze inadvertently found Bakugo across the room. He was still sitting, talking with the guys and ignoring the girls who came up to him to probably ask for his number.

As the night wore on, you and Mina found yourselves dancing on each other as the other girls cheered you on. Perhaps the alcohol was doing something to you after all. “Mina!” you shouted over the music, leaning close to her ear. “I think I like Bakugo!”

Her eyes widened, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Oh really? You’ve been hiding that little secret, haven’t you?”

You giggled. “I have, but I really do like him. I dunno how to approach it though.”

You were grateful for Mina’s enthusiasm, but also slightly terrified of what she might do next. You had confided in her during the party about your feelings for Bakugo, and now, every time you caught her gaze, you felt a mix of dread and excitement. She constantly teases you about him and makes you blush and whine countless times.

One afternoon, Mina bounded over to you with a mischievous grin plastered on her face. “Guess what? Bakugo’s training on the field right now! Let’s go with him!”

Your heart raced at the thought of being around him, but you knew it was better than sitting in the classroom doing nothing. “Okay, but… what if he’s busy?”

Mina waved off your concerns as if they were nothing. “He’ll love the company! Trust me, he’s probably bored out of his mind.”

“What are you waiting for Y/n? Get dressed in workout clothes, let’s go!”

When you arrived at the training field, the sun beat down, casting a golden hue over everything. Bakugo was in the middle of a high-intensity training session with his friends. You could see the sweat glistening on his brow, and you swallowed hard, trying not to stare.

Mina jogged up to him. “Hey, Bakugo! Can we join you for a bit?”

He glanced over, eyebrows raised, but nodded without much thought. “Yeah, whatever.”

Mina exchanged a quick glance with you, her grin widening, and you knew you were in for it.

After a couple of laps around the field, Bakugo pushed himself harder, quickening his pace as he powered through the workout. You kept up, fueled by the excitement of running alongside him, even if it was just for a little while.

Suddenly, Mina skidded to a halt and announced, “Oh, I think I heard Kirishima calling me! I’ll be right back!”

Your stomach dropped as she dashed off, leaving you alone with Bakugo. You tried to catch your breath, wondering how you would manage a conversation with him without embarrassing yourself.

“Keep up,” Bakugo said, glancing back at you with a trademark smirk that made you grin.

“Mhm!” You replied, a little too enthusiastically.

The two of you continued running, and an awkward silence settled between you. You tried to focus on the rhythm of your footsteps, but your thoughts kept drifting back to how you could possibly talk to him without sounding like a total fool.

“So… uh,” you ventured, trying to break the ice. “How’s training going?”

He shot you a sidelong glance. “Seriously? ‘S going fine.”

You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, but the light teasing didn’t deter you. “Well, I’m still trying to catch up to you. I heard you’re one of the best in class.”

Bakugo shrugged, though the corners of his lips twitched upwards slightly. “‘S nothing. Just working hard.”

The way he brushed it off made your heart swell. He was humble beneath that fierce exterior, and it only made you want to know more about him. “I think that’s really impressive. You inspire a lot of us, you know?”

He blinked, clearly surprised by the compliment, but then he looked away, a slight flush creeping onto his cheeks. He was afraid he’d say something stupid and ruin the moment, so he kept quiet.

You ran in silence for a moment, feeling emboldened by your earlier words. “Mina told me you love playing the drums. Is that true?”

His expression shifted slightly, a hint of curiosity replacing his usual irritation. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I think that’s cool. I heard you’re really good. I mean, not everyone can keep up with those fast beats,” you said, trying to keep the conversation going.

Bakugo smirked, a flicker of pride shining through. “I’m better than good. But it’s not like you’d care about that.”

“Maybe you could teach me sometime?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

For a brief moment, Bakugo’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he chuckled. “Yeah, right. You think you could keep up?”

“Challenge accepted!” you replied, grinning widely.

The tension between you started to ease, and you found yourself smiling despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Before you knew it, Bakugo slowed down, bringing you to a stop. “You’re not bad for a first-year.”

Your heart raced, both from the run and the compliment. “Thanks!” That meant a lot coming from someone like him, your crush.

The moment was filled with unspoken words and feelings. You could feel the gap between you closing, even if only just a little. Mina’s ploy had worked, and it was exhilarating, yet terrifying. 

His hand brushed against yours, fingers entwining, pulling you closer and his other hand came up to caress your face.

“Yer so pretty, ya know that?” He whispers huskily, throat suddenly dry. Time seemed to freeze as you gazed into his carmine eyes, shock coursing through you.

“You think I don’t notice the first-year who’s trying to get my attention?”

Your cheeks burned at his words. “I didn’t realize I was that noticeable,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugo chuckled, and the sound was like music to your ears. “Yeah, well, you are. You think I’d let someone like you slip by?”

He leaned closer, and you felt the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. 

“Hey, Bakubro I- HOLY SHIT MY BAD MY BAD. I’LL JUST LEAVE YOU GUYS BE-”

Kirishima's loud voice broke the spell, and your heart dropped as you turned to see him standing at the edge of the field, wide-eyed and clearly flustered. Bakugo’s expression shifted instantly from soft and vulnerable to his usual scowl, a hint of annoyance flashing across his face.

“Damn it, Eijiro!” Bakugo snapped, stepping back and releasing your hand to stand infront of you, blocking you from the spiky-haired male’s gaze. The warmth from his touch lingered on your skin, and you felt the loss acutely. “Can’t ya see we’re in the middle of sumn?”

Kirishima raised his hands defensively, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt! I just thought—”

“Yeah, well, ya thought wrong!” Bakugo growled, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, the moment between you both evaporating like mist in the morning sun.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you tried to regain your composure, peeking over Bakugo’s shoulder to meet Kirishima’s gaze.

Without warning, Bakugo gave a battle cry and charged towards Kirishima, successfully tackling him to the ground. 

Your eyes widened in surprise, and a burst of laughter escaped your lips as you watched Bakugo tackle Kirishima. “What the heck?!” you exclaimed, trying to suppress your giggles.

Kirishima’s laughter mingled with Bakugo’s playful growls as they rolled on the grass, their bickering filling the air. “Get off me, you angry pomeranian!” Kirishima shouted; his voice full of amusement as he tried to push Bakugo away.

Bakugo gasped lowly. “I’ll show ya who’s the pomeranian, freak! Just stay still!” He pinned Kirishima down, a victorious grin on his face as he held his friend in place.

You found yourself caught in the moment, the tension from earlier melting into a warm, playful atmosphere. It was a side of Bakugo you rarely saw—one that was free and full of laughter. It made your heart swell a little.

“Alright, alright! I give up!” Kirishima gasped, hands raised in surrender. “You win! Just let me up!”

Bakugo released him, but not without ruffling his hair as he stood back up, a smug smile plastered across his face. 

Just then, you noticed a few of your friends wave you over from a distance. You sighed, knowing they, too, probably saw everything.

“I should get going Kirishima… and Bakugo.” you looked up at him and your heart skipped a beat. It was all so, so worth it. 

“Katsuki.” He finally said, after a moment of staring into your eyes. You beamed slightly, a sight that warmed his heart. “Call me Y/n then.” He chuckled leaning close to your ear to whisper something. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, dollface.” 

“Y/n! Get here!” you heard the faint voice of Kiera and a bunch of whistles and laughter afterwards and blushed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Katsuki.” 

Hearing his name from your mouth, he decided that it was his favourite thing.

You joined your friends, not listening to all of their questions and giggles, your mind instead replaying the events that happened just a few moments ago.

And Katsuki? He can’t believe that you were actually interested in him. He realises that you have a grip on his heart. And you have him, one of U.A High’s most popular guys, wrapped around your pretty little fingers. 

Taglist:

@gojo28 @haechansbbg @ch3rryjampi3 @mikestuffffs @nemisimp @mimidonottouch @k1tk4tkatsuki @explosionmurdergoddynamite @xxiamabookdragonxx @reads-stuff-quietly @cc1306 @leslielibrary @blackweebthings @djlance-rock @nutellaenjoyer @momoloverr @momoloverr @kanvis @unstable-staplehead @xnoviee @oh-kayyy-stan-bts @miliswrld @yuji-itadori-fave @emmab3mma @nonamebbsblog @starrmage @succulent-momma

[dustofthedailylife]

The Art Of Desire

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Pairing: Alhaitham x (gn!) Reader

Summary: You are in need of a model for your anatomy class assignment. However, the last thing you expected was that your crush would volunteer to help you and that he would end up standing in front of you without a shirt.

Tags: Fluff, Suggestive (but still completely SFW)!, shy reader, partial nud*ty I guess? (Alhaitham is shirtless at some point), flirting, kissing

A/N: *throws fic into the room and leaves*

Being an artist while also being a scholar in Sumeru had always been somewhat difficult for you. The arts had never been something most people in Sumeru City appreciated or even actively looked down upon. It was a city of scholars after all, and the arts were too abstract to properly grasp for most of them.

Things had begun to become better after the old Grand Sage had been replaced and the new Archon had been freed but a lot of scholars still didn’t show much interest in the arts.

But due to that an assignment for one of your classes proved difficult. Anatomy.

You had no idea how learning human anatomy would help you as an architect later, but you did what you had to do. And it would surely help you with your personal art projects later on as well.

The only thing you had to find now was someone who could pose for you. Surely Kaveh would be able to help you right? He was your best friend and was once in the same situation.

You sought him out where he hung around the most - the Tavern.

As you walked through the Tavern door, warm air that smelled like wine and spices wafted your way and filled all your senses. You loved how homely it always felt here.

You scanned the tables to find Kaveh. Unfortunately for you though, he wasn’t alone. As you feared, Alhaitham was with him. You already considered turning around to leave again but Kaveh had already spotted you and was enthusiastically waving for you to come over to their table. 

And that was precisely the reason you rarely ever came here nowadays. Kaveh often met up with Alhaitham here for lunch. And your crush on the latter had slowly but surely turned you into a nonsense-blabbering mess during conversations with him. At this point, he probably thought you were stupid.

You hesitantly tiptoed over to their table and greeted them while your heart pounded heavily inside your chest. You sat down on the bench next to Kaveh who was already a bit tipsy. It wasn’t much of a surprise, since he was such a lightweight and practically got drunk as soon as he looked at wine the wrong way.

“Kaveh, I need your help!” You pleaded, trying to avoid eye contact with Alhaitham as much as possible once again.

“And that would be, my dear friend?” Kaveh replied in a singsong voice.

“Alright so… I need someone to pose for me. I need to draw a couple of detailed torso drawings for the anatomy course I’ve been taking, and since you also took that once I thought you could help me. I mean, you could also give me some tips. Right?” 

“Oh.” His smile faltered for a brief moment and his facial expression told you everything you needed to know. There was apparently a reason he couldn’t help but he didn’t outright want to turn you down. You knew how he is, he simply couldn’t say no and would inconvenience himself any time for his friends. And you definitely didn’t want him to do that for you. You’d be able to find someone else somehow.

“It’s okay if you can’t do it. Just say no.” You reassured him.

“I have an appointment in the desert with a client, but I’m sure I could make some ti–”

“I’ll help you.” Alhaitham cut Kaveh off.

Both of you snapped your heads in his direction in disbelief.

“Are you sick?! Why would you volunteer to help anyone but yourself?” Kaveh gasped and looked at the Scribe as if he’d lost his mind.

“It’s not much work, is it? They could just come to my office and draw me while I just sit there doing my work. Isn’t that correct?” Alhaitham inquired, boring his turquoise eyes into you. You simply nodded in reply and could feel your breath hitch in your throat. You were sure that if you would be standing right now your knees would’ve probably given in by now since they felt like jello. On top of that, your nervousness skyrocketed so badly that you were able to feel your heartbeat in your throat. 

The thought of being alone with Alhaitham for a prolonged period of time while ogling him as closely as you never dared before, made your heart flutter. You probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate on drawing properly but if he was already offering it, you couldn’t possibly refuse. Especially since he usually didn’t do anyone any favors to begin with.

“Besides,” Alhaitham continued. “It gives me an excuse to decline every other meeting for the rest of the day.”

“Tch, typical. Of course, there’d be an egoistic reason for your volunteering.” Kaveh scoffed.

“I don’t see any issue with that. I help them with their assignment while also helping myself. It’s a beneficial endeavor for both of us.” Alhaitham reasoned, twirling his own wine cup between his fingers before turning to you again. "Wouldn't you agree, too?"

You slowly nodded before quickly averting your eyes again since you couldn't bear to look at Alhaitham for longer than a few seconds without getting flustered. You had no idea how you were supposed to look at him for a prolonged period of time to draw him if you were already reduced to a flustered mess by talking to him. The thought alone made your heart almost jump out of your chest.

Kaveh shook his head in annoyance and turned to you once more. “Just say the word and I’ll take a day off to help you. Rest assured, it would be no problem for me.”

“No, Kaveh. I couldn’t possibly ask you to neglect your own responsibilities for my projects. Just keep your focus on yourself. If Alhaitham is so kind to offer his help I’ll take him up on that.” You reassured him while trying to hide how nervous you actually were about the situation.

“Well, shall we get going then? My lunch break is almost over.” Alhaitham interrupts, immediately getting up from the table.

You somewhat hesitantly got up as well since you didn’t expect he meant you could draw him right now. You had no time to mentally prepare for it so this would be interesting.

“Oh, so now you suddenly care about getting back to work on time after your lunch break,” was the last thing you heard Kaveh yell before the door of the Tavern fell shut behind both of you.

As you quietly tailed behind Alhaitham back to his office the realization that you’d actually be drawing him now suddenly began to dawn on you.

Oh, just what did you agree to here? And how in the world should you avoid making this awkward now?

Once you arrived at his officeAlhaitham unlocked the door and motioned you inside.

“You can sit down at the table over there. Do you need anything?”

“No. I should be fine.” You replied with a shy smile.

You were in fact everything but that.

While you were trying not to have a meltdown as you unpacked your stuff, Alhaitham was brewing some coffee and handed you a cup as well.

“Do you need me to do anything?” He asked.

“Hm?”

“In terms of posing.”

“Oh. Uh– no actually not. Just sit on your chair and read or whatever?”

“Nothing easier than that.” He replied with a faint smile, grabbing a book from the bookshelf beside you and walking back to his desk.

You busied yourself by scanning the books on the shelves that littered his office while sipping on your coffee before you turned around again and had to stop yourself from immediately spitting your coffee out again. Although as soon as you did you wished you had never done so.

Alhaitham had unclasped his cape and had loosely thrown it over his desk and was just about to pull his shirt over his head. You were trying to process what was happening before your eyes but your mind was racing so fast that you failed to fully grasp the scene before you.

“W-what are you doing?!” You stammered.

“Didn’t you say this was for your anatomy assignment?” He inquired, seeming entirely unbothered before ultimately removing his shirt completely.

Well, yeah you did. And for that bare skin was sort of a requirement. You knew that full well, too. It just sort of slipped your mind that taking Alhaitham up on his offer would actually entail seeing him without a shirt as well.

“Y-yes.” You replied, moving your eyes over his now exposed abdominal muscles. His usual shirt already left little to the imagination, but actually seeing his trained body without the thin piece of fabric covering it was a sight for sore eyes.

He claimed to only be a feeble scholar but that notion couldn’t be any further from the truth.

“Then there you have the answer to your question.” He stated matter-of-factly before sitting down and opening his book to read. His face still looked as unbothered as it did before and he immediately lost himself in his book.

In the meantime, you tried your hardest to get yourself together again. Not only did you need to keep your eyes from wandering but also your mind. 

You traced every well-toned muscle of his upper body. How light and shadow formed their contours and how his pectorals moved whenever he flipped another page. You took note of every detail and etched it into your memory while suppressing the urge to brush over his defined muscles.

You sat down at the table and held onto your pen for dear life as you continued to analyze every little detail of his body. The embedded gem between his collarbones and hot it beautifully shimmered in the light of his office. The sharp V-Line that started right above his hips. The symmetric curve of his collarbones leading up to his shoulders. And his turquoise eyes that were boring into yours once again.

"Is anything the matter?" He inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

"N-no. I'm just trying to find a starting point." You stammered your poor attempt at an excuse.

After all 'Sorry, I was too distracted by staring at your body' wasn't something you could just say either.

“T-tell me if you’re getting too cold and we can take a break.”

“It’s 40 degrees outside, I’ll be fine.” He chuckled seemingly amused about your concern.

“Ri-right. Yeah. Okay.” You awkwardly bit your lip. For Archon's sake, why couldn’t you just behave normally around him?

After overcoming the first awkwardness you eventually started sketching. But the more the shapes on your paper resembled the beautiful man in front of you, the more flustered you became again and the more aware you became of the fact of how closely you were actually looking at him. Your attention to detail for this sketch was even more on point than it had ever been before. Upon realizing that it was because you were enjoying what you were seeing your cheeks started to burn in embarrassment.

You spent about an hour immersed in sketching, carefully studying every contour of his upper body. It felt so intimate that you couldn't help but wonder if anyone had ever looked at him this way before. And even though you kept telling yourself that this was just a regular art study session to avoid getting flustered further, the endeavor proved completely unsuccessful. 

Eventually, you finished your piece and dropped your pen on the table. You lifted your sketchbook up to evaluate the page and the final result.

The once-blank page was now filled with an intricate pencil sketch of the handsome man with a dreamlike physique. You had to admit, he truly was the perfect subject for anatomy studies. And while you wouldn’t mind seeing him shirtless more often you doubt your heart could handle it another time. Because despite sitting the entire time you felt like you had just run a marathon.

“Your talent is quite impressive.” Alhaitham’s voice rang right next to your ear and made you flinch. You didn’t notice how he had approached you. And what made things worse is that he was still shirtless while standing next to you so closely you could feel the heat that emanated from his skin and smell his after-shave.

You gulped and got up from your chair avoiding looking into his eyes as much as possible because you feared that if you did your heart would burst out of your chest. 

“Thank you. That means a lot. I-I mean… it was quite easy to see the muscle definition on you.”

Facepalm. Why did you say that? You internally cringed at your choice of words and continued to avoid looking at him while you hastily started packing your bag again.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” He remarked with a smirk and lifted your chin up with your sketchbook, forcing you to look into his eyes.

You opened your mouth in order to say something but everything you could’ve said died in your throat. So instead, you simply continue to stare at him while your heart felt like it was about to combust and you wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground in shame.

He huffed in amusement at your evident flustered state and closed the gap between your bodies, placing his arm next to your head on the wall, towering over you.

“Do you have any idea how obvious you are?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I see the way you look at me, or rather how you always avoid doing so now. And Kaveh happened to slip up and revealed your secret when he got drunk. And that’s why I can tell you that I feel the exact same way about you. And I’ve longed for a moment to tell you. You didn’t make it easy since you kept avoiding me lately.”

You didn’t know whether what was happening was wishful imagination or a fever dream because it felt surreal. 

He put your sketchbook back on the table and lifted your chin with his free hand now. He took hold of one of your hands and placed it on his abs.

“This is what you wanted to do the entire time, am I right?” He whispered while the bud of his thumb brushed past your lower lip. You slowly nodded as your traced along his toned stomach with a featherlight touch, feeling how the muscles moved below your fingertips.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered in a low tone when you looked up into his eyes.

He had barely even finished asking when you leaned into him more and took the initiative to place your lips on his for a shy kiss. But it was so fleeting it had you longing for more and it seems that the feeling was mutual.

He quickly snaked his arms around your waist and pressed you against him with fervor while he hungrily crashed his lips into yours once more. You slung your arms around his neck and entangled your fingers in his soft gray locks while pushing his face even closer to yours than it already was.

You could feel him smiling into the kiss, as you did so. His lips continued to gently caress yours like a tender whisper of affection shared only between you two. It made you feel lightheaded while also leaving you longing for more. It was an intoxicating feeling like no other. One you certainly could get addicted to - and maybe you already were. 

At some point, you had no idea for how long you had been standing there kissing but it felt like an eternity yet not long enough at the same time.

You were sure of one thing though – You needed more of it.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

[dix0nvix3n]

𖤓°⋆ Chapter 1 °⋆𖤓

⋆☀︎｡Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader  ⋆☀︎｡Media: The Walking Dead; No Apocalypse & Alternate Universe ⋆☀︎｡Pronouns: She/Her  ⋆☀︎｡ Warning: Smoking (Cigarettes), One mention of weed, Talk of a bad past relationship. (That's it I think?) ⋆☀︎｡ Word Count: 2.5k

⋆☀︎｡ Author's Note: It's finally here... the beginning of my magnum opus. Even though I only have this one chapter out, there hasn't been a single day since I came up with the idea for the fic where I didn't think about it at least once. I just wanna thank all the people who let me infodump about it; y'all are true soldiers, cause I can really ramble on. Special thanks to @sinkdownbeneath for helping me write the intro because I was completely stuck for months with almost nothing to show, and being the person who let me yap the most, he can account for me pretty much talking about it every day for the past five months. So, anyway, I guess I hope y'all like my first finished something that wasn't just a blurb. Last night I only had a little over 200 words at 10 PM something, and now it's 7:44 AM with 2.5k words as I write this... I don't know what got into me, but anyway, enjoy!

June 1st, 1992

Daryl finds himself propped up against a tree, catching his breath. The cool summer air around him makes his chest ache with every breath he takes. He had been running, hearing the twigs snap and the leaves crunch beneath his feet as he darted past every tree, trying to evade potential capture from a party that had him jumping out a window when the cops showed up due to a noise complaint.

He spent much of his life within the comfort of the woodland, underneath the thick canopy of leaves and branches, the first roof he ever felt safe under.

He gasped for air, his legs exhausted and his lungs overworked, adrenaline still pulsing through him as he slid down the rough bark of a tree, pulling his legs up to his chest.

He's close to the road, hearing a solitary car cruise past. He can tell it's late from the stars that peek through the leaves that loom above him in the thick black sky, but he spots his glimmer of hope, which seems to be the soft light of a gas station just a bit beyond the road's traffic barrier closest to him.

With a deep inhale, Daryl knew he had to walk to the gas station and reluctantly call for a ride in a phone booth.

After fully catching his breath, he pulled himself off the ground and began walking towards the gas station, already dreading the thought of the phone call.

Reaching the gas station, he saw two cars; one belonged to the lone worker at the cash register inside, and the other belonged to a woman smoking a cigarette at the side of the building. The woman did a quick wave at him, which he found to be a little odd just because most people at this time of night aren't too friendly, but he gave a polite wave back anyway. 

Finally getting up to the phone booth, Daryl looked down at his watch, which read 1:00 AM, causing him to let out a deep sigh, realizing how late it was and how much of an inconvenience it would be for someone to come and pick him up. 

He stepped inside the phone booth, staring at the phone for a minute before popping in the quarters he luckily grabbed from the living room floor of the party. If he hadn't grabbed them, he'd be completely fucked and have to figure out his way back to his apartment.

After dialing the number he knew would pick up, the phone rang just a few times before a tired and clearly just woken up by a phone at one in the morning voice picked up.

"Hey, Mr. H... Could ya pick me up?"

"Thanks. 'm sorry about this; kinda just started walking and didn't stop. Ended up at some party, and now I don' know where I am."

"Yeah. Place is called Peachy Speed, never seen another gas station called this; it must be family-owned or somethin' and the closest road sign says it's on Navel Street. You know where I'm at?"

"Okay, cool. See ya in a bit. Sorry again."

After hanging up, Daryl stepped out of the phone booth with his head held down, letting out a deep exhale and running a hand through his hair until he heard a pair of feet shuffling up to him.

He looked up to see who it was, and it was you, the woman who waved at him.

"Need one?" You held out an open pack of Marlboro Reds, with only one cigarette missing from the pack.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks." His thoughts stuttered for a moment because he was caught up in the fact that you came over to him. You're really pretty, and now Daryl feels like a nervous schoolboy trying to ask a girl to the prom just because of a simple gesture.

He grabbed a cigarette out of the box and reached to pull his lighter out of his pocket, only not to feel it, and checked the other pocket to have the same luck. "Shit."

You let out a small chuckle. "Need a light too?” You pulled a lighter out of your pocket and handed it over to him.

He nodded his thanks and popped the cig in his mouth before lifting the black bic with a spiderweb seemingly hand-painted on up to the end of the stick. Flicking the flame to life, he took a long inhale and handed you back the lighter, as he really took a moment to take in the sight of you. 

You were in a black tank top tucked into a pair of black ripped jean shorts. Under the pair of jean shorts were fishnets with an intricate pattern of moons and stars, and you had on a pair of slightly battered-up Doc Martens. 

As he exhaled the first plume of smoke into the night sky, he saw your kind smile, which sent a rush of warmth through his face. Your lips had a simple gloss on them, but your eyes were a different story, painted with smokey eyeshadow, sharp graphic eyeliner, and two rounds of mascara on each set of your top lashes. He also noticed the simple yet pretty titanium stud on the left side of your nose and two helix rings on both your ears.

He thought you were gorgeous, his heartbeat a slightly faster pace than what it normally rested at.

"Rough night?" You asked as you lit up a cigarette for yourself, letting out a slight gag at the taste and smell that you weren't used to, which caused Daryl to let out a small chuckle.

"Sorta. More of just hated the fact I had to call and wake someone up to come and get me. First time smokin'?" He said before he took another drag.

"How'd you know?" You said sarcastically as your face contorted in disgust a bit at the taste building up in your mouth and throat after each puff.

"Maybe try a different brand. You'll find one ya like." A small smile graced his lips as he butted off the ash at the end and took another drag. 

"Nah. Think I'm quitting after this one. I'll just stick to weed."

He let out a chuckle. "May I ask, why'd ya even start?"

You let out a small groan, running your hand through your hair in slight embarrassment. "I finally left my shitty boyfriend once and for all. I finally realized he'd never like me for the real me. I constantly had to put on this mask around him, and I finally found out that it was impossible to fix him and the fact he didn't actually like me. I know it sounds weird, but I guess my thought process was that my epiphany about him would stick with me after smoking one like a character in a movie or something." You let out a laugh. "Stupid, right?" 

He snubbed out the end of the cigarette, as it was almost a roach at this point. "Nah, it ain't stupid. A lot of my best thoughts come after smokin' one, cleared my head more times than I can count. You deserve one after the bullshit he put you through, I think. Hope the prick is havin' a shit night after realizin' he's lost you cause ya seem awesome to me so far."

You felt warmth begin to rise in your cheeks at his words. "Thanks. I know I deserve better. I'm just pissed; it took me so long to realize it. So, anyway, what's your name? I can't believe I haven't asked yet."

"Name's Daryl; what's yours?"

You had a few good puffs left of your cig but decided to snub yours out as well since you didn't like it anyway. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Daryl. My name is (Y/N). Do you wanna come sit with me at my spot against the wall? My most likely melted slushy is calling my name to get this taste out of my mouth." 

"Yeah, I can. Might be a bit till my ride gets here, so I might as well sit down." He started walking to your spot, and you followed in tow. 

When you got back to your spot, you looked down at your slushy on the ground. The dark purple concoction of blue raspberry and cherry slushy combo was completely melted. "Goddammit." You didn't fully care though; you paid for that slushy, because you were stubborn it meant you were going to have all of what you paid for, so you drank down the rest of the sugary liquid with a satisfied sigh. It was luckily still cold, at least, and it was just what you needed to get the taste of the cigarette out of your mouth.

As time passed, you and Daryl talked about whatever came to mind as you doodled some intricate pattern on the front of the pack of the Marlboro Reds with a sharpie, ultimately moving to the back when you ran out of room. You found out that he works as a mechanic for motorcycles and cars at a nearby auto body shop, that he rides a motorcycle that he built himself a few years ago, that he loves to hunt on occasion, specifically with a crossbow, and that he ran from the cops at a house party tonight.

You knew your short time with Daryl was up when you saw a 1987 Ford Sierra MK2 pull into a parking spot at the gas station, and Daryl stood up, doing a quick stretch. The man in the car smiled and made a small wave at you, and you did the same back.

"It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N). I'd talk more, but I don't wanna keep him up any longer." He said as he gestured a hand towards the man who came to pick him up. 

"It was nice meeting you too. Thanks for talking to me, Daryl." You pulled the pack of cigarettes from your pocket and held them out to him. "Take these. You need them more than me. Plus, I just quit." You grinned at him as he took the box from you. 

"Holy shit, thank you." He smiled back as he placed the box in his own pocket and slowly started walking backward towards the car. "Hope ya have a good night and that Nick the dick has a shit one. 

You let out a laugh at the nickname Daryl gave your ex-boyfriend and waved him goodbye with a "You too." You leaned your head back against the wall, staring up at the night sky as your eyes finally began to feel tired, knowing you should head back to your friend's apartment soon and try and get some sleep before your nine AM shift. 

Once Daryl got in the car, he let out a quiet sigh as he looked out the window at you, wishing he dared to ask for your number. You were the first good conversation he'd had in a while, and his schoolboy-like crush on you kept growing the whole time you talked.

"So, who's that?" The man said as he shifted the car into gear, Daryl noticing the grin on his face.

"A girl that started talkin' to me after our call. Name's (Y/N)." He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, mindlessly tracing the pattern of doodles you did.

"You ask for her number? The car was now beginning to be backed out of its parking spot.

"Nah. Mind if I smoke?" Daryl shook the pack and began looking for one of the lighters he left in the glove compartment a few weeks ago. 

The man shook his head with a slight sigh and said, "Go ahead." He wasn't shaking his head over Daryl wanting to smoke, but over the fact he wouldn't ask for your number when he obviously liked you, but he knew he couldn't push him; he understood Daryl's nature.

Daryl looked back out the window at you, opening it as he blew out the first cloud of smoke. He then looked back down in his lap where the box lay, flipping it over to the back to see what you had drawn there as well. His breath hitched as he saw it. On the back was your phone number, and above it said, "Call me" with a smiley face. 

The tips of Daryl's ears were beet red, and he tried to hold back his face from turning the same color. He looked back out the window at you to see you grinning at him this time, to which he smiled and waved goodbye to you as the car pulled out of the lot. In Daryl's twenty-three years of life, he could say that this night was one of his best.

"Daryl, why'd you call me Mr. H again? Son, you've known me for five years; how many times do I gotta remind you to call me by my name? It's Dale for you."

Daryl let out a small cloud of smoke this time, wanting to savor this one on the peaceful ride back. "I'll tell ya again, it happens when I'm nervous; didn't wanna wake you up, s'all, and you still are my boss after all."

"Daryl, you're like a son to me, and I told you to never be nervous if you need help, and that includes coming and picking you up in the middle of the night if needed. I'm here for you." Dale placed his right hand on Daryl's shoulder, keeping his left on the wheel as he squeezed his shoulder lightly before returning it to the steering wheel.

"Now, it's not Mr. H or Mr. Horvath, son. It's Dale."

Daryl rolled his eyes playfully. "Yes, sir," he joked, letting out a chuckle.

It was the next day around 10:30 PM when Daryl picked up the phone on his nightstand and finally called the number you gave him, nervously wrapping the cord around his finger. The phone only rang twice before the other end picked up, "Hey, is this (Y/N)?" 

The inner teenage girl in your brain screamed in excitement, so happy that he finally called. "Omg, Daryl! I was wondering when you were gonna call me. I've been waiting since I got off my shift."

"Didn't know if you worked a mornin' shift or got off at night, and I didn't wanna leave too many voicemails on your friend's phone."

"Yeah, I worked a morning shift at the diner today. I got off at five. Morning shifts are the fucking worst." You're lying on your stomach on the couch, playfully curling the phone's cord around your finger and kicking your feet back and forth in the air.

You and Daryl talked for an hour, mainly talking about the shitty customers you dealt with today, sounding especially frustrated about the woman who yelled at you just because the diner was out of unsweet tea that you couldn't do anything about because the place was also out of tea bags to make more. What did she want you to do? Just up and leave your job and go buy the tea bags, your fucking self?

"Even though I don't want to, I gotta go to bed 'cause I have another morning shift tomorrow. I get off at five, so call me around six-thirty, okay?" 

"I get off at five too. Works for me. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight to you too, Daryl."

The call ended, and you both looked up at your respective ceilings, smiling as warmth bloomed through your faces. You both slept well that night, falling asleep to the thought of calling each other tomorrow.

⋆☀︎｡ Extra author's note: Here's what Dale would look like in 1992, I took Dale's age of 64 from the show since the apocalypse started in 2010 so he'd be 46 in 1992. I think this picture of Jeffrey Demunn is from when he was 43 maybe? I can't remember but that's close enough to 46 and even if he isn't 43 in the image he fits the look of someone in their mid-forties. Just imagine him without the cowboy hat, okay? There's not a lot of pictures of him when he was younger.

⋆☀︎｡ Taglist: @mrdixon , @yevmarie , and @shadowcitrine

⋆☀︎｡ Divider creds: @ saradika, go check her account out! She has some very cute dividers!

[scaredycatwrites]

Quiet Comfort

Pairing: Morgie le fay x gn reader

Prompt: you were a victim of one of Uliana's outbursts and Morgie finds you in a quiet part of the courtyard and tries his best to comfort you. 

Warnings: accidental hitting, crying 

a/n: I love Uliana's character honestly so much but i just felt this was a cute idea, this is the first time i’ve posted a one shot so apologies if its badly written.

Word count: 1,851 words

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Being a VK was fun most of the time, you and your friends would have fun pulling pranks, terrorising the other kids and causing mischief in general but of course it came with its issues. Uliana was a great friend, but she was prone to outbursts of frustration and anger, especially if someone bested her at something, and today happened to be one of those days where someone decided to test Uliana's patience when she was talking down to them. Now usually you and the rest of the VK's could calm her down after a while making her feel better by reminding her that she can get them back next time but she was not in the mood for that today.

“Uli, don't let it get to you, we can get them ten times worse next time.” You spoke attempting to comfort the sea witch. But she wasn't in the mood letting a growl leave her. “Not now Y/n I don't wanna hear your attempts at helping!” Morgie and the others watched as you attempted to calm her down knowing it was probably not the best idea. You looked at her before trying once more. “But Uli, it's not the end of the world, we can get that spoiled princess back I know we can!” The others knew the look Uliana wore well, she was frustrated and at her breaking point. Uliana then snapped. “Oh my god Y/n do you ever know when to stop talking!? Just shut up! I don't need to hear your pathetic attempt at comfort! I don't want your pity!” The sea witch exclaimed her tentacles flinging out in frustration to hit at anything she could around her, unintentionally smacking you as she did so. 

Most of the group backed up to let Uliana take her frustrations out on the surrounding area however Morgie was focused on the way you stood still for a moment as you put a hand on your face where the skin was turning a purplish red on the surrounding area of where Uliana's tentacle had caught your cheek. He could see the way your eyes threatened to spill tears and in a matter of seconds you seemed to excuse yourself mumbling an apology before doing a speed walk turned jog away from your friends. 

You made your way to one of the quieter courtyard areas of Merlin Academy and sat on one of the corner benches, soft sniffles turned to silent sobs, occasional hiccups leaving you while you let out your emotions. The truth was you'd been dealing with some other stuff and this was the last straw to set off your tears you'd been holding in for a few days. It was definitely needed but inconvenient that it happened during school hours, you'd be mortified if anyone saw you crying like this, it made you feel weak and vulnerable, something you were taught by your parents that villains should never be.

Your worst nightmare began as you heard the softest little. “Hey..” come from the entrance to the courtyard, you knew those steps and that voice anywhere. Morgie. You turned your head away trying to stop the little sobs and hiccups from leaving you, taking a shaky breath you stuttered out a broken. “G-go away M-morgie.. ‘m fine..” Morgie slowly made his way closer to the bench you had sat on and sat on the other side keeping distance between you for a moment. “You don't have to be fine, it wasn't exactly a nice situation to be in, I saw how she caught your face, that must've hurt, trust me I know she's caught me a bunch before.” He half joked trying to lighten your solemn mood. You appreciated the boy's words but still felt uncomfortable appearing so vulnerable. “Morgs I'm fine.. I'll put some ice on it or whatever.” You mumbled trying to hide the shaky tone but unfortunately for you Morgie could hear the shakiness. 

Morgie then shuffled a little closer to you on the bench placing a hand on your arm hesitantly which made you jump but you didn't move his hand away. “Y/n, you don't have to hide your emotions from me, I'm not gonna make fun of you, we're friends, I'm here for you.” You felt your heart ache slightly, it was difficult for you to be openly emotional due to your villainous upbringing and Morgie knew that pretty well having grown up in similar conditions yet he seemed so soft and gentle and kind with you all the time. “Morgie, why'd you come looking for me.. You know I would've been fine on my own.” You finally glanced at the boy next to you, your face tear stained and puffy from your crying, yet that didn’t seem to phase him all too much. Morgie slowly reached a hand up, using his thumb to wipe away any tears left, the gentle motion caused your cheeks to flush a faint shade of pink although it partially blended with the red tone of your skin from the crying which you were thankful for. “I know you say you would be ok on your own but i wanted to come and check in anyway, you mean a lot to me and i want you to be ok..” Morgie attempted to hide the faint blush on his cheeks as he confessed this to you.

Morgie let out a small hum, taking a breath as he spoke in a much softer tone than his usual excitable one. “You know, i thought you were very brave to try and help Uliana, you’re always positive about things which are hard to find in a villain, you’re kind Y/n, it’s hard to find that, even in those royal snobs.” His words made the corners of your mouth turn upwards ever so slightly producing a small smile. “Morgie.. You’re so sweet, I don’t understand why you are though, Uliana’s probably gonna kick me to the curb for trying too hard to be positive.” This caused Morgie to frown. “Not on my watch, besides you did nothing to warrant being kicked out of the group. Uliana is just having one of those days, it’s not your fault at all. I’m sure if we talk to her later she’ll probably be fine with you,she just needs to cool off.” You gently nodded and took a breath realising how silly you probably sounded worrying about being kicked out of your friend group. 

You hadn’t even realised that Morgies hand was still resting on your cheek until you felt yourself leaning into the touch. He seemed to continue the gentle rubbing motion with his thumb, no longer wiping away tears but just comforting you with the gentle touch. You let out a comforted hum as he stroked your cheek, the touch was so soothing, it felt intimate in a way but you didn’t want to assume anything about the way Morgie was being. The moment of gentle touch and quiet lasted for what felt like an eternity before Morgie spoke up. “Hey Y/n, i care about you, so much.” You let out a small laugh. “Is that so? I didn’t think that villains were supposed to care about anything.” Morgie smiled a little as he rolled his eyes. “Well if that's the case then maybe i’m not a total villain because i seriously care about you Y/n, like a lot.” You looked at Morgie not expecting him to be genuine but there was nothing but genuine adoration in his eyes. “Oh.. oh Morgie that’s so sweet of you.. I care about you too.. And I seriously appreciate how kind you’ve been to me.” 

Morgie gave a gentle nod as he felt his cheeks flush at your minor confession. “Well I'm glad we’re on the same page about caring for one another.” he half joked, causing you to snicker and nod. “Me too Morgs me too.. I should probably get to my dorm before I get seen by a bunch of snobby princesses, doubt we’d live down me being caught crying with my face in your hands.” This caused Morgie to laugh a little as he hesitated before letting go of your face and standing up. You also moved to stand up, missing the feeling of Morgie’s gentle touch on your cheeks. Morgie then gestured to you to begin walking which earnt an eyebrow raise from you. “Morgie le fay, are you offering to walk me to my dorm?” you teased playfully causing his face to flush pink and he begged you didn’t see, but you of course did. “Well.. um.. Yeah I just thought it would be the polite thing to do.” you let a giggle slip out as he explained himself. “And since when did you care about being polite?” Morgie then shrugged and smiled, beginning to walk off. “Hey if you don’t want me to, I can just let you go alone.” You shook your head quickly before doing a small jog to catch up to him. “I never said I didn't want you to.” This caused him to chuckle as you walked side by side in a comfortable silence for a few minutes towards the girls' dorms. “Thank you by the way.. For uh.. Coming to check on me, you didn’t have to do that.” you spoke up as you approached your room, unlocking your door, standing in the doorway for a moment. Morgie gave a small smile as he spoke in that soft tone once again. “Anytime Y/n, seriously if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask me.” you nodded gently leaning your head on the doorframe giving Morgie a lopsided smile. “The same goes for you Morgs, you can always come to me if you need anything, but if you tell the others about me crying don’t forget i know where your dorm is.” You half joked. Morgie shook his head. “I would never, I swear, VK’s honour.” He gave a silly salute making himself laugh and you giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow Morgie, get to your dorm safe.” Morgie then took your hand in his for a moment pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles causing your face to flush a bright pink. He bowed teasingly, chuckling. “I bid you goodnight dearest Y/n, sleep well and no more tears tonight or I shall have to return and you will soon tire of me doing this voice.” You laughed quietly at Morgies silly attempt at a princely voice shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Yes I will, your unroyal evilness.” you teased making him laugh in response before moving backwards into your room giving a gentle wave. “Goodnight Morgie, you dork, you should go before curfew.” “Ah of course, goodnight y/n, don’t miss me too much!” he chimed before you watched him head off closing the door giggling to yourself and shaking your head, a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest as you thought about everything that happened and found yourself anticipating what might happen when you see Morgie again tomorrow. 

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An: I hope you enjoy this, honestly I just wanted to write some Morgie stuff because the world could use more Morgie. This is my first time posting my writing so I'm a bit anxious about it.

[hxltic]

i had no idea this was sent in so this could be super late but hi ofc!! Also tysm i love you <33 also i’m sorry i didn’t know how rough you wanted it👩🏾‍🦯👩🏾‍🦯

𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐒. 𝑺𝑼𝑵𝑨 𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑹Ō

part one | part two

Genre: smut

Warning: heavy degradation, handjob, blowjob, facefuck, public bathroom sex, spit kink, brother’s best friend

He’s one of your brother’s dumb friends (the actual dumbest—in your opinion), and no matter how much you locked yourself in your room to be excluded from whatever activities prolonged out there, the inevitable feeling of hunger is sadly inescapable.

Following a creak from your door, right before another from the stairs, you cascaded down into the living room. Openly, the kitchen stood nice and bright, accompanied by snacks aligned on the island that held several filled lanyards with attached keys.

Arriving down the stairs in your red pajama set was the same thing as yelling and notifying everyone you were there. Heads turned. You didn’t take the time to count, frankly because it felt like crawling into the lion’s den and now needing an escape. You should’ve known there were people coming by the way everything was taken out of the pantry and neatly placed anyway. Your hair was frazzled from rolling around trying to get comfortable; your reddened face was visual proof of the relentless makeup you scrubbed off; the several necklaces you wore and forgot to remove were now entangled in each other—it would be just your luck for a bunch of boys to be over. Not ones you were trying to impress, persay, but the last ones that needed to see you in your tired hobo fit.

“Whatever you’re about to say—don’t. don’t be a dickhead,” you call out. You were getting this snack and going back upstairs, negating anything that could be said to you from here and then with your course voice.

“You think so horribly of me, what’d I do?”

Suna’s sly tone carried across the room to bring you to a stop. It was obvious was him; when was it ever not him? The only other people were Kita and the twins, but they were preoccupied.

“Exist, essentially,” you rebut, and after selecting a bag of skittles and a cosmic brownie, you reach over and grab the keys farthest to the left before your leave; staring him dead in the low, mustard, dumb eyes.

The keys were his. You recall because a few years back, you plucked off a single tag or attachment every time he came over. It took a bit for him to notice how weightless it had become and demand for all of them back, so you made him beg after assigning him as your personal chef for the day.

Which you weren’t a horrible person, so you kept them tucked away in a box on your dresser.

He examined the action to be reminded of this, but let you go nonetheless. He’d be damned if he let you see his smugness falter.

“Your hair looks great,” he taunted, with his long arms spread across the couch lazily. Your brother giggled from afar. To the back of your head, slim eyes scanned you in a judgmental manner—the same one you usually glanced at him with. The steps you took became bouncy and joyous.

Then you remembered how your hair actually looked, so you trudged up the stairs and grumbled, “jump off a cliff.”

You hadn’t completely decided what you’d do with the keys, but you’d most likely hold them hostage in your room somewhere. The plan was just to be a minor inconvenience.

And this was effective for the moment being—rattling Suna with the flashbacks—but sleep weighed your eyelids and, obviously, the door was locked.

. .

3:48 A.M.

A continuous knock drives you out of your slumber. Grumbling, your sleeping feet swing over the side of the bed and you rip the comforter from your body. The pitter-patter of steps notify the dark-haired man of his disturbances, guiding one side of his lip to lift and his toned arms to cross as he patiently awaits you.

Your tongue swipes at your dehydrated lips and your fingers correct your messy braided hair before opening the door. Suna languidly leans on the parallel hallway wall, sending you a look that it is too damn early in the morning to acknowledge. With the little strength in your freshly awaken arm, you throw the door closed to turn your back and close your eyes for the journey back to bed.

Suna’s sneaker sat where the door should’ve connected to the wall. He already knew the best of your unkind tendencies. The corner of the door swept into his large hand following its ricochet and he pulled you by the forearm, twisting your body to him. Your face slammed into his chest due to your lack of stabilization. You got a whiff of his faint cologne.

He didn’t even apologize. Fuckface.

“Jesus. No need to be so rough,” you croaked.

“It can get a lot worse than that,” a genuine smiley grin spread onto his features as he tilted his head and inspected down the hall for anyone that could hear him. Of course you hadn’t caught this in your state, not even processing the implied indecencies. “Maybe you shouldn’t close the door on me.”

He pressed the pad of his finger to your forehead and presses you back off him.

“Why are you here? Like for real.” Nothing was funny and you need to go to sleep. You have work in the morning. If you were awake enough, you would’ve taken the forehead poke as disrespect.

He treads the hand not on the door through his dark hair (which somehow returned to the exact same position it held before) and shrugged, “I can’t get home.”

“So?”

“You have my keys.”

Oh shit. You did bring this upon yourself though.

You sigh and rub the side of your face drowsily, “I’ll get them in the morning. I literally don’t even remember where I put them to be honest.”

As bad as he wants to be irritated, he can’t. The silhouette of your figure in front of him was something else. This was the day that he learned you don’t wear bottoms to sleep, but wear them just to keep some dignity whenever you show your face downstairs. In other words, you only put them on to eventually come back into your natural habitat and kick them off.

Your half naked body stood swaying in the doorway, reflecting into Suna’s yellowish eyes. Had he forgotten to respond? His gaze flickers before focusing strictly on yours. “Let me come look.”

“No, I’ll get them in the morning.”

“I’m coming in.”

Not very carefully, he shuffles past you, then your bed, unaffected by your futile efforts to groan and push him away. He had a sleeper build, unfortunately. As he rummaged through your drawers, he comments, “This would be a lot easier on the both of us if you just told me where they were.”

“Never. Get out! I just cleaned up!” You whisper yell into the morning. It seemed to be a sight you could only watch with the weight difference, but you had to try. Your fingertips connect around his small waist so you could push backwards off your heels. Whatever you could muster has done nothing but prove your weakness to him; he continued side-stepping drawer to drawer and smirking at your actions. That stupid expression only made your blood boil. You retreat.

Inevitably, he found your underwear drawer. Nobody wishes for that on themselves, although the way he held aside one of your thongs on a single finger as if it were a hanger, just to re-fold it before neatly placing it back where it once was; even the darkness couldn’t hide your tightening chest and darting eyes trailing everywhere but him.

The crickets were wide awake, and now so were you.

Your spread fingers modify into fists, you plant your feet. You come back full force to grab him. His head dips back in pure laughter while he attempts to be mindful of the time of night, even when his fair hands creep to yours and slowly pry you away from how you were linked around his stomach. Finger after finger.

The carpet floor, however, was not on your side, and your heels suddenly slide under you, between his feet. It also didn’t help that with Suna’s build there wasn’t much to grab onto: his torso is smooth, slim, but hard. Anytime you reached for grip, you just felt the curve of his muscles under the dark blue cotton t-shirt.

The last finger came undone, and you hadn’t realized why he’d swiftly attached himself to your wrists until you immediately saw yourself tumbling backwards, landing with a hard thump loud enough to wake up everybody in the house. The tightness of his grip confuzzled you.

It was one of protection and instinct rather than anything else. He didn’t seem concerned (as foretold by the small hints of laughter emitting from somewhere upwards), so you wondered why he still held your wrists with his arms backwards and you flat on your ass. He gathers himself, lets go, and turns to face you.

Trying to soothe the pounding muscles, you roll on your right and rub the area cautiously. It was most likely redder than your cheeks.

“You know, to be holding me so tight, you didn’t really lessen the fall,” you scowl.

“No, but you also didn’t crack your head open,” he retorts. You just glance at him and that villainous expression once more, one that was plastered on his tilting head in fake pity. You grunt and roll your eyes.

After declining help from your literal downfall, you push off your right hand to get up. Your nose meets a structure. Wood.

It was the wooden footing of your bed, so close that had your head tilted back any further with the force of the fall—it would be a concussion, no doubt.

You pause and return your focus to him. He smirks down at you.

. .

The next dull morning, you groan obnoxiously as you walk in so the shirtless man currently in your kitchen would take the hint and leave. His keys landed with a mix of a thump and a clink on the soft couch from your toss. He curls the island corner holding a bowl of cereal, sweats hanging loose on his hips; however, he just leans and eats, watching your moves silently.

Your uniform was definitely one to strike a customer: leather shorts and short sleeve top perfect for showing off cleavage. You slipped a jacket on and headed out the door. Before you left, it was necessary to shout “When I get back, you better be gone!”

He just rolled his eyes. You weren’t there to watch it, but you knew.

. .

“Of course, I’ll get that right out for you,” you shoot the fakest smile to the middle-aged man leaning probably too close just to be giving an order. Your sneakers spin on the hardwood floors of the food bar and your hand slips the ticket order into the side pocket of your waitress pouch. Audiences of whatever sport on the tvs and bellowing men ring through your ears until you get called by a coworker of yours. The day had been long, and quite frankly, you were just tired and couldn’t give a damn what she had to say.

“Hey, can you take over that table for me?” Dammit.

She curves her soft hands over one of yours she harshly tugged from your side. With pleading eyes so heavy it looked as if she would cry, she continues, “But I also would like you to give this to one of them. The one with the dark hair.”

She retrieves a small, crumpled paper from her unbuckled pouch lying folded on the waitress stand. You peek at it as she forces it into your hand. You glance at her again.

“A lot of people have dark hair, which is it?”

Her head shakes frantically in reassurance, “You’ll just know. Table 17, corner booth. Just please slip it in the check or something like that.”

An unintentional sigh hinting at your annoyance hangs in the air, but it isn’t like you can stop her from leaving, whether you were just about to clock out or not. Apology is displayed on her face nonetheless, so you grant a soft smile and make your way there after her continuous stream of thank you’s.

You wish you hadn’t.

You walk up to the booth occupied by faces that couldn’t get any more familiar, one being the someone you couldn’t stand, the other that was even more intolerable, and Aran. You liked Aran. He was cool.

Suna has nothing but innocent deceit on his face. After looking around for any employees, or rather managers, you drop next to him on the left side.

“What are you doing here!?” You mainly scolded him, but you looked around at the other two as well. Once again, not really Aran; he was never informed of your workplace and it was most likely your brother’s idea.

“We just came to eat. Yknow, like regular customers.” Your head snapped to your own blood, feeding into the torment of what you were experiencing right now. Was this what bullying felt like?

“Now you can eat with us though, it’s the end of your shift anyway.” Suna adds. That wasn’t the case due to circumstances. As long as you have this uniform on and as long as they were a table in the restaurant with no waitress, you weren’t off duty.

“That’s not how that works.”

“Sit here for a bit. Customer’s request.” The ravenette mouths. You doubt that would work either because interaction with customers were limited. Honestly, with how you were dressed, you loved the rule. Suna’s back lifts when his arms reach out around you, creating as much space as possible to remove his jacket. The man lays it out over your lap, covering the pouch and any signification you were on duty with the exception of the shirt, but you leave and walk in with it on so it didn’t matter.

All things aside, you give in, everything goes well. Catching up with Aran was a joy. Ascertaining that Suna took a shower in your home, just to put on another pair of sweats your brother leant him and the same t-shirt he’d just washed overnight, he did not listen to you and did not leave. You wonder if he ran through your room again just for fun.

You ignored the other two most of the time. Having to see your brother every day; there was no reason to converse with him, but the other took this personally. Extremely personal.

He kept doing things to get your attention. When the person taking your shift came as waiter, he ordered for you just as the words began to spill from your mouth. Only having four people in a wall booth, he had more than enough room to manspread—so he left you nothing but a sliver of space. You tried to scoot him over manually, but of course, it didn’t work. You place both hands on his thigh in an attempt once more.

Having not learned your lesson previously, you’re going to try again. Your fingernails dig into his skin so it would hurt (but he didn’t flinch); you push with all your might and he continued casual conversation. Shoving again, you watch as his eyes flicker in shock, frantically glance to you, and revert as if nothing happened, even though a stern hand held the top of your left still. He fake laughs it off to the rest of the table. So fake, you hadn’t realized it was.

A large, pale hand squeezes yours in its spot, prohibiting movement. Was he ticklish? You force your hand back and forth against his thigh, your hands being unable to lift but having no choice but to move with his flesh, and he squeezes even harder. This hand was closest to his torso, located on the inside of the very top thigh area. So high it was basically his hip.

You hadn’t realized your nails curled right into his groin. Unaware of what was actually happening, you continued for the sole reason it was bothering him in some type of way, resulting in warning looks being shot to you with his tired eyes. Ones you ignored. It hurt because of the coffin shape, Suna had to admit, but it didn’t deflect the blood rushing there.

Finally, his leg closed, but he took a tight hold of your guilty hand and pulled you roughly. He mumbles sternly with his mouth to your ear, “Sit still, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You just laughed in his face and put both hands to your chin, elbows stationed on the rectangular table. You’d do it again when he wasn’t looking.

He’d caught you less than halfway there the second time, but third is the charm. His guard was let down.

The air was thin and light with loose conversation. Aran’s sister was fine and your brother was thinking of applying for another scholarship. When everything seemed to have died down, french tips clanked against the counter impatiently and your left hand dove under the table once more.

In your peripheral the male visibly stuttered, hips lifting for adjustment and eyes darting to you nervously. This time they hadn’t left and it took everything in you not to acknowledge the mustard gaze. To make it worse, the squeeze of your hand allowed an audible grunt to fall from his lips. His eyes fell as well so your friends noticed, questioned it, but the false voice you’ve fabricated over years of customer service was just too believable.

You squeeze again, the muscle unknowingly growing under your hand. He became fidgety and his breath slightly irregular. Turning your head to glance at him, he locates your eyes immediately—the eyes usually low and apathetic—were yelling to stop. A mischievous giggle worsens the situation, causing his eyes to slim down angrily. He’d prove to you why.

He takes a hold of your wrist and stretches your fingers using his own, sliding them between. He adjusts in his seat again before flattening your hand around his print, using his other hand to cover his mouth casually as he leaned forward on the table. His digits wrap around yours, causing you to wrap around him.

He gave you a preview. With no underwear to hide any inch of it under the fabric, you (he) basically caressed from the base all the way to the tip, the outline becoming more prominent and his body shifting under your touch. You look at him in disbelief at: what he did, what you unconsciously did, or in all his, what—a solid 8 inches at least? If you had to guess?

The idea was to scare you off, but it did quite the opposite. Whenever your hand was released, much to his surprise, it just returned with the same motion tenfold. Luckily, nobody else could hear the sudden deep groan over the laughing people, and the way his back landed with a puff on the soft booth seat only looked somewhat out of the norm. His face was flooding cherry red no matter how bad he didn’t want it to. Both his hands came up to run over his eyes, forehead, and cheeks. Now he braces himself on the seat, gazing down at the sight of your pretty fingers and nails dragging up and down the entirety of him through his pants. The friction was indescribable.

He held watch as you dipped past them.

You knew you’d do anything to get under his skin, but not like this. Of course people found Suna attractive, light athletic build with killer thighs and small eyes, only to be complimented by his dark brown locks and good style (when he cared). So when Nali passed the note to you to give to someone, you could assume it was her number. It’s somewhere lost on the table now. Primarily because if something did happen, coming downstairs to more than two people you can’t stand would send you over the edge and he doesn’t need anyone boosting his ego more than it already is.

But now as you’re stroking him slowly, only the movement of cloth from your hand’s action could describe what was going on. Apart from the man’s darkening gaze too. He was beaming fire into your neck, just as you were chatting away.

“Are you okay?” Your brother is worried for his friend who was flashing a sickly face hinted with anger. The plump of your lip met white teeth, a reddened spot building up as you tried your best to prevent any unwanted facial expression or laughter. Aran became intrigued as well.

Sunarin comes forward to statue both elbows on the table, but without saying a word. Consequently, the question hung low in the air, creating palpable tension at the silence and his direct, unmoving eyes. You ignore it.

Instead, you ring two fingers and ride over the heightened band right where the tip begins. You tighten your hand. Your fingers close around it and meet at the peak, collecting pre-cum and the last of Suna’s patience. The job is done and your hand retreats.

“Yeah.” Breathlessly but barely noticeable, he continues, “Your sister’s just a pain in the ass.”

You dramatically gasp and keep the façade going, just to eventually let him out as per his request for the bathroom. The two boys laugh over their food as Aran receives almost every bad deed you’ve done to his former teammate, just giving him an idea on how you two operate, though you announce your leave to completely end shift and take the pouch off. Once you reach the back and remove any resemblance of your relationship to the restaurant, you reach the one person bathroom. It was a fairly good size.

“Hello? Sunarin?”

©️hxltic

[imdeadinsidesiriuslydead]

Hi, could you write a reader x Jason Grace sex scene? they were at camp half-blood, being really cute, and Piper gets jealous (I love her sometimes, but I love to imagine her as a little villain), and since she's being inconvenient, they go to Jason's cabin and have sex

Jealous | Jason Grace x fem! Reader

a/n: Jason is such an underrated character that gets so much hate. Like yea he’s not Percy but like does every character suck just cause they are not Percy? Like bfr! I love both and can’t choose. Any way here’s some smut and fluff for you hun!💕

warnings: smut! Fluff! Jealous!Piper.

MINORS LEAVE BEFORE I CALL YOUR MOMS!

Everyone was singing around the campfire as you and Jason snuggled up. Ever since Jason and you made it official, Piper had been annoyingly popping up at the most inconvenient moments.

She started barging in on your couple time, causing the two of you to turn alone time into trio time.

You wouldn’t consider her a friend, not really, she was more of an acquaintance. You knew of the most messing with her mind and making her think Jason and her were an item, but you are also aware of the fact that it was an illusion and when it came down to it, she rejected him. But she couldn’t seem to let go.

Right now is one of those moments.

She appeared next to you two and just helped herself to the blanket cocooning you and Jason.

“Don’t mind me.” She said as she sat next to Jason’s side.

Jason gave you an annoyed look and mouth “sorry.” As he looked back to the fire.

You reached under the blanket and went to hold his hand.

“Jason! Could you fix the feather in my hair? I can’t quite get it to stay put.” She said.

“Sure.” And just like that, both of his hands are occupied. Piper gave you a smirk that went completely unnoticed by Jason as he concentrated on fixing the feather.

You were sick and tired of Pipers ability to get Jason to do what she wanted. Her powers whether she could tell or not, you knew she could but would love to give her the benefit of the doubt, had a clear affect on him. Cause afterwards he’s confused on why he did what she asked, he goes out of his way to avoid her because of it.

You decided to knock him out of it. And an evil little idea entered you head and you impulsively took it.

Jason was almost finished with the clasp on the feather when he felt your hand gently grab his knee. He ignored it but he couldn’t now because it was traveling up his leg slowly.

He tried to keep his breathing steady as he fixed the last little bit of the clasp. He tried to ignore the tightening of his pants as your hand stroked his leg slowly getting closer to his bulge.

“There.” He said as he turns away from Piper, ignoring the smile she sends his way.

He turns to you and gives you a stern look. You smile innocently back and turn to face the campfire.

you hand grabs his bulge hard causing him to quickly get up ands grab your hand, pulling you with him.

Piper gets up and asks where he’s going but he far to gone to listen to her.

He drags you all the way back to his cabin and slams the door shut. Everyone is far away at the campfire for anyone to see you enter his cabin.

“You’re gonna get it.” He says as he rips off your shirt and pants quickly.

————

Piper followed you. She was concerned for Jason, he had left in a hurry.

She thought something was wrong. He must have had a vision, or remembered something about the prophecy.

She walked up to the Zeus cabin and knocked on the door. No answer.

She could have sworn she saw you guys walk this way.

She was curious and opened the door.

What she was not expecting was to see Jason and you on his bed fucking like cats in heat.

She stared horrified at the scene in front of her as Jason and your moans bounced off the walls.

Jason felt someone watching them and turned around. He quickly fell on top of you and tried to cover you up with his body as he pulled a blanket over his bottom half.

“Piper?!?” He asked as he scrambled to cover you up.

Piper seemed to have come to her senses and snapped out of it. She looked like a deer caught in headlight.

“Shit! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to- bye!” She said before running out of the cabin and slamming the door shut.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Jason said, losing all of his precious confidence and looking away.

“It’s not your fault. She walked in and just had to ruin things.” You said jealously. You played with your hair as Jason turned back towards you.

“I know. She barges in all the time. I’m sorry. Her charm speak whether she knows it or not affects me and then I just can’t focus clearly.” He said as he buried his head in his hands.

“Well,” you start as you push the blanket off his shoulders and trail your hands down his chest. “She’s not here now.” You say with a mischievous smile.

Jason lifts his head and smiles at you too before kissing you with so much urgency.

He picks you up flips you around, putting you on your hands and knees. He quickly rubs his cock through your warmth before thrusting in.

He goes faster, probably scared of Piper coming back, and moans as he reaches a point inside you only he can reach.

He reaches down and runs your clit, causing you to orgasm quickly. You won’t lie, being caught really turned you on.

It must have done the opposite for Jason as he was pounding into you for at least another 3 minutes before finally releasing into you. He whined as he pulled out and laid on top of you.

“I’ll talk to Piper about boundaries.” He said as he pulled you towards him.

“Ok.” You said as you leaned closer to him. “We probably have to head back, so no one in my cabin gets suspicious.” You try to get up but are pulled back down by Jason’s strong arms.

“Not now. Later.” He hums sleepily as he snuggled into you more. You laugh as your eyes begin to get heavy.

—————

Sorry if this is really short!

request are open.

[youre-a-total--poser]

Can you please write one with mama nat and teen reader where Fury sends the reader on a mission with another one of the Avengers even when nat told him not to, and the reader got injured or something and nat helps nurse her back to health cuz she sees her like her own kid <3

Or you can write anything with mama nat, i just love your writing so much aaaaaaaaaaa 🧎🏻‍♀️

Accident Prone (Request)

Warnings: I don't know anymore Age: briefly 10 and 15 Word Count: 955 Requests: Open Summary: Read the request and it will explain everything Requested by: Anonymous Date: 28/09/2024 paring: N/A A/N: Thank you for your request I hope that you like it. Not sure if this is even good enough since it has been so long since I've written anything

Masterlist

---⧗---

You were taken by HYDRA when you were about 10 and let's say you were one of their failed experiments.

You had telekinesis powers well sort of. Honestly, you had no clue how to make it work and when it did happen it would happen at the most inconvenient moments.

Things would be moving about randomly people, mainly you, would be getting whacked by flying objects. It wasn't great definitely a 0/10 wouldn't recommend.

Then one day the Avengers came in and put a stop to everything that was happening and rescued everyone like they do but the only thing that was different about this whole operation is that they found something or someone sitting in a cage who would change their lives forever.

You were sitting there covered in cuts and bruises and they assumed the worst but that wasn't the case at all. You didn't tell them what happened and even to this day you never did cause it's pretty embarrassing not gonna lie but eventually they figured out why.

They ended up taking you back with them and letting you stay probably because they felt bad for this little thing that can't walk in a straight line, trips over nothing and chokes on air.

---⧗---

You were now 15 life is great everything is great.

You were getting help to figure out how to use your powers and after years of training, you could successfully move… a penny.

Sure it wasn't the biggest thing in the world but at least there was one less thing randomly flying at you so you called it a win.

Over the years you had developed a close bond with Natasha. What started with her tending to your every wound gradually turned into a mother/daughter-like relationship.

Every time the Avengers went on missions you were left home alone and you wanted nothing more than to go with them to see what it was like but every time Natasha would say 'No it's too dangerous.', 'You're too young.', 'Do you really think I'm going to let you go when you can't even make toast without nearly burning the place down?'

In your defence it wasn't even your fault that the toaster caught on fire someone turned the dial too high.

You knew that Fury was here assigning Steve on a mission and you just happened to overhear that it would be an easy one so it would be perfect for you.

Your plan was to be as annoying as possible so he would get frustrated and say yes so that's exactly what you did you followed him around repeating the word please and just as expected it didn't take long for him to give in.

Your excitement lasted all of 4 seconds as soon as Natasha heard what was going on.

"Absolutely not," she said crossing her arms.

"Please, Nat." you begged, "nothing is going to happen."

"I'm sorry but I said no Y/N."

"Not fair," you mumbled while crossing your arm in a huff.

Then the best idea, well the best idea at the time popped into your head however now you regret it.

"I'll never ask for anything ever again if you let me go."

While Natasha was thinking you were giving her your best please face it's never failed you before.

She let out a sigh "fine."

Your face lit up and a large smile appeared.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you said while hugging her.

"Don't make me regret it Y/N," she said sternly.

---⧗---

The mission was easy and boring it was just to collect paperwork or something you weren't really listening or paying attending.

It was all going well until it wasn't…

Natasha was anxiously waiting for the Quinjet's arrival once she heard you and Steve were on your way back.

She watched as Steve carried you out of the Quinjet. Natasha was already going out of her mind but when she saw Steve carrying it it sent her over the edge.

"What happened?" she asked hurrying over.

"She tripped over a stone and sprained her ankle." Steve briefly explained

"It was a very large stone actually." you chimed in.

"God sake Y/N, I thought something bad happened to you," Natasha said her voice still sounding quite panicky.

"Something bad did happen I sprained my ankle"

Steve let out a frustrated sigh and Natasha just shook her head.

"Can you put me down now?" you asked Steve who was still carrying you.

"I thought you said you couldn't walk," Steve said gently putting you down.

"I never said I couldn't walk I said I didn't want to walk."

"It doesn't matter let go and put some ice on it," Natasha said putting her arm around your waist and you slowly limped back inside.

---⧗---

"what am I going to do with you Y/N?" Natasha asked as she handed you some painkillers and a glass of water then placed a bag of frozen peas on your ankle.

"Lock me in a room and throw away the key?" You said quietly chuckling then you took the meds that you were given.

"Don't tempt me," She replied sitting down beside you.

"It hurts a lot," You said while wincing.

"The meds will kick in soon and it won't hurt as much."

Natasha picked up the TV remote and put on your favourite movie.

While it was playing you felt yourself getting tired.

"Thank you for taking care of me Nat," you said sleepily.

"You welcome, sweetheart," she said quietly.

A slight smile appeared on Natasha's face as she put her arm around you while you moved closer to her.

You ended up falling asleep in the safety and comfort of her arms.

---⧗---

Taglist

@saraaahsstuff // @marvelnatasha12346 // @amolapasta // @knox145 // @ducktamer415 // @romanoffliviv

Go HERE to be added to the taglist

[mangoshorthand]

I just saw your little post, I'm sorry I didn't clarify. Yes, I am a cis woman and I have more of a swimmer's body (I've been a swimmer for years so it's partially natural and partially conditioned) with wider hips and broad shoulders (typical swimmer long legs too). I hope this helps and sorry for such an inconvenience 😅

- birthday anon 🎂🎉

Original request, (paraphrased):

It's my birthday today and I was wondering if I could get a happy birthday from Five. I guess my prompt would be that throughout my life a lot of people forget my birthday (even my family) and often don't show up so if Five just remembered and decided to be soft and sensual and caring, that would make me the happiest person ever.

No problem Birthday Anon. Sorry this took a couple of days. Happy belated birthday! Also I made you a barista sooo...enjoy that I guess.

The Birthday Girl | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.8k words, Rated E

Being born at the start of the year was always a harsh reminder of the fact that you weren’t the main character of all existence, something which it took most people much longer to realize.

It was worse when you were a kid, with Christmas and birthday presents amalgamated into one by relatives already stressed out from gift-buying, but it still kind of stung as an adult. Yeah, people had lives and it was a tricky time of year, but you surely didn’t need to be the main character of all existence to have people simply show up for your birthday. 

It was a nice place, you thought, glumly as you popped the olive from your martini into your mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Not too crowded, the music loud enough to dance to without prohibiting conversation. The drinks were cheap and good quality. It would have been the perfect place for a birthday get together. 

You sighed and rested your elbows on the bar. You should have got the picture by now. You were a full grown adult, you knew how it went, and yet you still foolishly invited all your friends and even some family out. 

You’d never imagined that all of them would come, but you thought that at least a few would turn up. Over the past week, as you’d expected, they’d nearly all messaged their excuses and apologies and dropped out. For some, it was too close to going back to work after their christmas break, some were still away, while others were still recovering from New Year and unable to face the idea of partying again so soon.

You didn’t really blame those guys, (at least they had the decency to inform you that they weren’t coming), but you couldn’t help feeling angry at the no-shows who hadn’t even bothered to inform you, leading to you sitting alone in this bar, all dressed up for nothing.

“Hey.”

You turned your head, surprised to hear any voice addressing you. 

“Five,” you said, smiling nervously in greeting.

This was not what you’d planned. He was your favorite customer and he said you made the best coffee in the city, but could you call him your friend? Did two years of late-night coffee twice a week count as a friendship?

He usually came in on one of your late shifts, looking immaculately dressed but gray with exhaustion. At first, he hadn’t talked, just drinking his coffee in silence and leaving with a murmur of thanks and a generous tip, but over time he’d been more receptive to your gentle offers of conversation, and gradually he’d shown up primarily to talk, sitting at the counter as you worked, sipping endless cups of coffee and keeping you company. 

What he hadn’t told you himself, you’d put together from snippets of conversation. You knew about the Umbrella Academy and the apocalypse, but it didn’t really factor into your picture of him. To you, he was just Five: the amusing mix of pessimism, wit, and an old man’s nostalgia for times past incongruous with the body in its twenties.  

Over the time you’d known him, he’d grown into your life easily. He had you looking forward to your late shifts and spending the time between them making mental notes of things to tell him next time you saw him.

Your conversations with him were easy and intimate (you’d told him a few things you wouldn’t tell your diary on your deathbed), but the relationship was still this weird, context-bound thing. He was the customer, you were the server.  

He’d surprised you into inviting him to this little get-together a couple of days before new year. It was your first late shift after Christmas, and when he’d arrived and taken up his usual perch at the counter, one of his first remarks was:

“It’s your birthday coming up in a day or two, right?”

“Uh,” you faltered, “Um - yeah.”

He looked at you doubtfully. 

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“No, it is. I’m just surprised, is all. People always forget.”

Five shrugged.

“You told me last year. You swapped shifts to go out for dinner.”

“And you remembered that?”

“Yeah.”

It touched you, the way he spoke so casually, as if he couldn’t possibly do anything but remember this about you. So you invited him to come tonight, hoping he’d say yes but not read too much into it.

For months, maybe longer, you’d been wondering, and his attitude then was the thing that pushed you to find out once and for all.

You had to know for sure whether this was something: whether you and he would be the same in a different environment, or whether this thing would just crumble to nothing outside of the diner’s soft-lighting.

It would be a good test, you thought, and having other people there would act as a buffer in case of any awkwardness. 

In this, you had been thwarted, because now he stood beside you, looking more smart-casual than you’d ever seen him, frowning in a gray blazer over a dark tee.

“Well…happy birthday,” he said, dumping a giftbag on the bar with a clunk that signaled a bottle inside, “it’s rum. You said you liked mojitos.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding, as he sat on the barstool beside you. 

He took a quick glance around, intelligent green eyes taking stock of the bar. 

“Is it just us?” he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow in a way that made you chuckle.

“Yup,” you smiled, ruefully, “most people canceled, but there were three who just haven’t remembered to show up. I told them to meet me an hour ago, but no word.”

He frowned again, so you offered a little explanation:

“People forget when your birthday’s just after the holidays.” and then, with a smile at him, added, “Except you, of course.”

“Hm,” he said, with an air of contemplation, perhaps reflecting on why you’d told him to meet you later than everyone else. Seeming to dismiss it, however, he turned back to you:

“So you’re stuck with me?”

You looked back over at him, and a smirk developed on his face, one corner of his mouth turning up to complement his cocked eyebrow. 

And in that moment, you made a decision, one that was two years in the making. Why play these games? Why experiment with him? Worst case scenario, he could just find another diner. 

“It’s stupid to be here with only two of us. Do you want to come back to mine? Maybe we crack open that rum and help me drown my birthday sorrows? I only live on the next street.”

***

The rum was never opened, because on the street outside your apartment, he stopped you with a hand on your arm.

He’d been silent ever since he agreed to come with you, and when you turned to face him outside your door, he fixed you with such a serious look that you took in a shallow breath.

“Sorry if I make this awkward, but I gotta know. Is this just a drink?”

You looked back at him, studying the earnest slope of his brow and his tense mouth; how two freckles disappeared into a small cleft in his cheek. It was a face that surrendered smiles reluctantly, but you could nearly always tease several out before the end of any shift. 

You shook your head wordlessly.

His adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes, so often scowling, scathing or sardonic, fixed you now with a look of pure, open adoration. His thick lashes did nothing to shade you from the intensity of that look, from the opalescent green of pupils that pulled at you with such fascination. 

When he spoke, his voice was very low.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to keep your eyes on his face, choosing to study the neckline of his tee, beneath which a hint of sturdy collarbone was visible.

He reached out and gently ghosted his fingers down your cheek. 

“How could anyone forget your birthday?” he murmured. 

Then, he leaned forward and kissed you.

The chill January breeze momentarily played about your neck. A shiver ran through you, but not from cold: from his gentle lips against yours; from the feel of his soft hair between your fingers; from his body close to yours. 

Sweet, chaste and cherishing, it might have seemed platonic, that kiss, but for the way his tongue slipped briefly into the fray, though pulling back quickly: showing you that he had more should you wish to take it.

And you did. You wanted it to the point that you chased his lips when he tried to pull away. He smiled at this and let you catch him, letting your lips part his and your tongue enter his mouth. 

Finally, he succeeded in breaking the embrace, though leaving his hands softly on your hips.

“Take me upstairs?” he asked, huskily.

***

His mouth beside your ear, he held you on his lap like a beautiful fragile thing. He ran his fingers reverently up and down your thighs, like a servant privileged to touch precious silverware with kid gloves. 

He kissed you again, soft and syrupy, as if he was eating fruit perfectly sweetened on the vine, trailing his lips down your shoulder and humming with satisfaction.

 “God,” he whispered, “I could kiss you all day.”

The tender hunger in his tone sent a tingle straight to your core. 

It was a shame to have your back to him. When he’d thrown off his shirt as if it was nothing, your eyes drank him in: the softly defined muscles that were outlined by his movements and the trail of sparse, dark hair disappearing below his waistband. All this time, under those sharply cut suits, there was this.

But you couldn’t focus on the regret too much, not with his strong forearms wrapped around your naked body, his smell of antiperspirant and aftershave, and not with the heat of his hard arousal against your ass and lower back. 

His fingers clearly stated their intent against your inner thigh, pausing an inch away from where you needed him most. 

“May I?” he asked, breath tickling your ear. 

You could hear a little hint of mischief in his voice; the ironic move of his eyebrows.

“Yes please,” you breathed.

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he whispered, nuzzling briefly at your neck.

And he stroked your outer lips with gentle fingers, his index trailing back up your slit, the tip skimming slickness that had already gathered there.

He made an appreciative sound at his discovery, and you moaned at the throb of pleasure from just this teasing movement, bucking against him and momentarily pressing his cock against you more firmly.

“You’re so pretty,” he rasped into your ear, fingers parting your outer lips to reach your excited nub and stroking it in smooth, luxuriant circles, “look at you. So perfect.”

You whimpered and tossed your head helplessly against his shoulder. Heat was already building in your sex, toes curling against your sheets.

The foundations for your orgasm were laid from his very first touch of your aching pussy, your body crying out for him from the moment he kissed you. Now, you were helpless to his fingers: as confident and efficient in rubbing your needy clit as in all his other movements. 

“You deserve to be treated special.” he whispered, “This good?”

“Five.” 

“Yes?”

“Five.”

You could hardly say more, brain scrambling like beaten eggs until no vocabulary remained but the name of the man whose fingers were making come slowly drool down your thighs.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered, tenderly.

You shook your head fiercely. 

“Fi-ive!” you whined again, becoming completely inarticulate now as his ankles hooked around yours, holding your legs open gently. He could sense you beginning to ride your edge, could surely sense the heat burning and coiling and tightening in your stomach until - 

You cried out when you came, feeling more come gush from you, soaking his fingers and your thighs alike. He spoke softly to you as the waves of pleasure broke on you one by one, each bringing a fierce buck of your hips backwards against his hard, hot cock, sandwiched between you.

“That’s it.” he encouraged, “There you go. Feel good, sweetie?” 

You could do nothing but whimper and let yourself be carried by the rapture, surges exploding down each limb again and again.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting against him. 

Through your recovery, he whispered more tender affirmations and praise into your ear, kissing and nosing at the side of your neck as he tried to distract himself from the tingles going up and down his length and the precome still leaking from his tip. It was difficult: your movements against him were teasing his excited cock. 

After you caught your breath, you became aware of the needy way he was kissing you; of the barely-there grinding of his pelvis; of his dick rubbing against you.

“Can I -?” came the desperate, half-articulated whisper.

“Yes please,” you replied.

He laid you down as if you were fragile, like an injured dove held in cupped hands. His gentle movements offered a stark contrast to the state of his gorgeous, curved cock. The tip was an angry pink, his balls high and tight with arousal.

Intrigued, you began to caress that heated, swollen part of him. He hissed as you weighed and massaged his balls in one hand, the other closing around his shaft, already slick with precome.

“Don’t judge my stamina based on this, okay?” he said, voice cracking as his neck arched along with your strokes, “How about you stop that and we can try for quality over quantity?” 

It was spoken with self-consciousness that seemed unnecessary to you, given that he’d just rubbed your clit to a thigh-trembling orgasm quicker and more effectively than anyone you’d ever been with. You let his cock go and kissed him on the mouth as he lowered himself towards you. 

When he entered you, his mouth was still on yours, and you felt his sigh or relief against your lips. 

He filled you perfectly, your plush walls immediately gripping him, surrendering him reluctantly as he withdrew. You could see the tight pinch between his eyebrows. His eyes were already screwed shut. 

“Oh.”

The whisper was small and strung out, and you kissed his cheek and lips to encourage him as he let out a few, trembling breaths. 

“That feel good?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, “it feels good, Five. 

His strokes were slow, but skillful, his hips rutting with gentle fluidity. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he whispered, stroking your cheek, “I want to show you how special you are.”

From the movement of his body alone, you would have imagined him in complete control, not even close to his edge, but his increasingly fevered whispers and messy kisses to your lips and neck told a different story.

“Your pussy is so good. It’s so fucking wet.”

You kissed him back, nodding and moaning in affirmative as that perfect curve rubbed you just right inside, the low tempo building an ache as sweet and gentle as his thrusts. You gasped, pulsing around him, and his hips stuttered for the first time.

“F-fuck.” he breathed, “So hot. So perfect.”

He tensed.

“I’m close.”

You smiled against his ear. You were on birth control and you knew enough about Five to know that he didn’t raw-dog every barista who made him a good cup of coffee. It wasn’t logical or sensible but it was the only thing that seemed right after two years of illogical, foolish denial. 

“Come inside me.”

“You sure?”

You barely had time to confirm it to him before he let out an inarticulate cry. His dick pumped hard inside you, coating your walls with his load with his head buried in your neck, still keeping you gasping throughout with controlled, gentle, sensuous pumps of his pelvis.  

***

“You want coffee?”

You lay, bare-breasted on his chest as Five combed his fingers through your hair, feeling warm, content, and glowing from his tenderness. 

“Let me get it for a change.” he said.

“Wow, it really is my birthday,” you teased. 

You heard a short exhale of laughter as he extracted himself gently from the bedsheets. 

“Sure is.”

And, with as little care for his nakedness as if this was his own apartment, he headed across the bedroom, turning back at the door with a wry smile.

“And it’s not over yet.”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

Megalist

Request info + rules

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[copperbadge]

would you mind talking a little about enjoying traveling solo? I've always wanted to explore, but so many people paint traveling as this group activity, and I've always felt bad not having friends to do it with

My god, how much time do we have?

So, I could indulge in a little free therapy here and talk about some fucked-up experiences of travel I had as a child, but that's not really applicable, so...let's leave it at the fact that until I was out on my own, I didn't get to pick what happened to me on trips. I do often travel with my friends, who are always up to do the dumb shit I concoct for us, but any travel with another person involves compromise, and sometimes I just don't want to compromise, or to irritate my friends. Even though I know they probably won't be, I still worry they will, and sometimes I don't want to worry.

I also never internalized the idea that doing things alone was sad or weird. It's a social cue that I completely missed. The first time a friend of mine randomly came across me eating alone in a restaurant in college, she said, "Sam, why are you eating alone?" and I said, baffled, "Because I wanted dinner?"

I was twenty years old before it occurred to me that other people would feel strange eating alone in a restaurant, and then only because she told me she'd be too self-conscious. I was thirty before I realized most people would be self-conscious traveling alone, something I'd been doing since I was seventeen. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to be with other people -- some people love company or are nervous traveling alone or just plain don't get the appeal, and that's entirely fine.

But I love knowing that everything I do is for me alone. I can go to the weird museum or check out the odd store or do strange secret things to delight myself and never worry that I'm making life unpleasant for someone. I can be as selfish as I want. That's very rare for me and very precious. Also why I will probably never have a permanent romantic partner, but that's also free therapy for some other time.

The truth is, when you are alone, nobody actually knows that. Yes, if you're the only person at your table in a restaurant you're obviously alone, but nobody knows you aren't just getting a bite to eat before meeting up with your many cool friends. I don't look at anyone I see out in the world and go "Oh sad sack, look at them without anyone to hang out with." I think most of us worry everyone is saying that, and none of us actually are saying that.

And when I have been asked if I'm with someone and said, "Oh, I'm traveling on my own", people universally react with envy. "That must be amazing. I couldn't do it," or "I've never gone on a trip by myself, is it fun?" I've never had anyone say or imply that I'm a loser who couldn't find someone else to travel with. Quite the reverse.

Recently I had the thought that if I was more afraid of being alone I would probably have more intimate friendships or at any rate a much wider social circle, because I would need someone else to go with me on adventures and I would have to internalize the idea that it's okay to inconvenience or bore someone else at times, which I never really have. But that's kind of a tautology; "if I was less okay being alone I'd be less alone" is cyclical reasoning, when the truth is I'm someone who is a little fucked up about other people but also just genuinely enjoys solitude.

I love my friends, and I try very hard to form strong bonds with them despite that being really hard for me. I do get lonely, and I spend more time alone than is probably good for me. I get very anxious before solo trips. But I will also always need times when I am alone and only ever have to worry about myself. And once I'm launched on the trip I fucking love it. There are very few joys to rival walking out early in the morning into a strange city and knowing that the day and the city are both yours and yours alone.

Also sometimes I pretend I'm a spy, or an art historian on the trail of a stolen painting, or an academic writing a very important book. That's fun as hell.

Anyway, even when I do travel alone my friends are only a text message away, and I get to see cool stuff that I bring back to my room at night and share with all of you. I love sharing my adventures with you guys.

So yeah. My thesis is that nobody will even notice you're alone and if they do they'll probably think you're fucking cool for doing it, and meanwhile you get to do exactly what you want and nothing you don't. I think everyone should at least try it. You don't have to do a four-country trip through Europe for your first time out; you can just find something in another city that you want to see -- a museum or a zoo or a play or a cool burger joint -- book a trip, arrive Friday night and leave Sunday afternoon. And if it turns out you don't like traveling alone, that's okay too. There's no inherent moral virtue in being alone any more than there is in not wanting to be.

I just think it's super cool to sometimes go haring off on my own and do dumb shit. :D

[229zmi]

SO, AGAIN

Nishinoya Yū/Reader | 1.5k words, childhood friends to lovers, sitting on rooftops and windowsills (don’t try this at home♡), confessions, kiss

The best place to watch the sunset is from the rooftop of Nishinoya’s house.

You know this because you’ve gone up there before. Once, when you and him were thirteen. But because people fall off of roofs, because his parents were quick to find out about it and lecture you with a gazillion what-ifs, and because they made each of you pledge to never, ever go up there unsupervised again — the adventure ended right before it even began.

Nonetheless, after the whole debacle, it wasn’t long until the older Nishinoyas became less cautious of the two of you as time went on, and you were back to weaselling your way around their strict rules with Yū, your forever partner in crime.

Summer came, and you decided that the second best place to watch the sunset was from the windowsill of his bedroom.

The window was reputable contender on its own, with it being west-facing and on the second floor. It was easy, too, to try and pretend you weren’t doing anything dangerous as soon as you could hear the familiar sound of slippers padding across the hardwood floor.

Maybe too easy, you suppose, considering how years went by without suspicion from either of his parents. But bruises on your fingers from slamming the window shut too quickly once in a while were nothing compared to the gossip sessions that lasted long after the sun had already retreated behind the horizon; late night talks in which you complained to each other about the minor inconveniences of life, came up with vague and seemingly unattainable plans of the future after high school, and started a pact to marry each other if both of you were still single by 45; and most vividly, the scene you saw countless times at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and however many times you replayed it in your mind beyond that.

(Maybe it was something about the bronze of his hair from the sun and the golden glow cast across the side of his face, something about the way his hair became tousled from the wind. You weren’t sure about it then, but it sets your world off its orbit for the next couple of years.)

Then came reality, or in this case, the neighbours who decided to rat you out the moment they saw your sneakers dangling from the ledge.

And because people fell off of windowsills, too, what once was yours and Yū’s escape soon belonged to the hands of the past.

Now, three years later — the same amount of time you’d spent on that windowsill, though it nearly felt like decades at the time — Nishinoya would consider himself unbound by the past. He looks out into the landscape, and there is only the sun, the trees, and the horizon line in front of him. A daunting world full of opportunities and the undefined More stretches from here in Miyagi, past the trees, to the horizon where he sees that the sun’s about to set, and beyond the vanishing points.

(He can’t reach there quite yet, but he’ll go there someday, he knows it.)

However, when the light slipping through the blinds starts to turn a familiar orange and the last of his things has finally been boxed up, the realisation dawns upon him that there’s still one final layer of dust he wants to brush away.

So, then— he asks if you want to watch the sunset. On the windowsill. Together. For old times’ sake. You know?

It’s all very casual, and you snort out of your nose ungracefully at the idea as if to call it stupid.

(Because it is. It goes against everything his parents said about falling off of dangerously high places; against that boring pledge they made the both of you do to avoid those places. You knew it was especially serious that time four years ago when they made you pinky-promise it, too.)

You ask him if he’s kidding. He’s not.

“Don’t tell me you’re too chicken now,” he challenges. One hand reaches over to unlock the window, and you can see the years’ worth of dust that spurts outward from the movement of wrenching the stubborn window open— tiny particles that look somewhat majestic in the sunlight but unimpressive once they fall past Yū’s knee.

“I’m not.” You glare at the unconvinced look on his face, and he puts his hands up in silent, ineffective defence of himself, pretending as though he hadn’t just done anything to provoke you. For a moment, the thought of defenestration occurs to you, but you fight against such violent urges, opting instead to emphasise, “I’m not chicken.”

“So what’s holding you back, then?”

You think about it. Nothing, you suppose. Other than, like, falling off.

“C’mon,” a boyish grin adorns his features as he offers a hand to you, “I’ll hold your hand so you won’t fall.”

You stare at his hand in skepticism. “Oh, yeah. That’s really reassuring, especially coming from you.”

“Whaaaat? You can trust me. I’m the most careful person alive!”

(He is not. However, you remember all the times when your foot slipped, and he was there quicker than you could even realise you were in any danger, with his hand holding your arm in a firm grip and the other hand on your shoulder to steady you.

Tomorrow, he’d call you clumsy and you would pretend to hate him for that, but for the rest of the evening, his arm never left from its place around your shoulders, not even once.)

“If I fall, you’ll fall too,” you warn.

“That’s only if I let you fall,” he says, before puffing his chest out and pointing at himself in confidence. “When have I ever let you fall?”

You think about it again. Never, you conclude after a moment and take his hand.

Nishinoya is the first to swing his leg over the ledge, sparing the landscape a brief glance before turning back toward you to help you get adjusted next to him. You try not to dwell on the moment too much when his hand comes up to rest against the back of your head as you manoeuvre under the frame, breathing a sigh of relief when you successfully avoid hitting your head against the top.

You look forward. The sun’s already set.

“See, if you weren’t acting so chicken—“

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” he teases, letting go of your hand to nudge your arm. “We wouldn’t have missed the sunset if it weren’t for you.”

“Oh, please. Don’t act like you ever actually cared about the sunset,” you say. “You used to talk so much shit up here.”

“It wasn’t all shit! I said some good things.“

You can’t help the laugh that forces its way out. “Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know. Oh!” His eyes light up, remembering. “The marriage pact we did! That was my idea, thank you.”

“Mmm, I don’t think that could be considered a good idea. More like a manifestation.”

“A manifestation of what? Getting married to each other?”

“No, oh my god. I mean being single at 45. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but y’know what I mean.”

“So what? Should we lower it to 20?”

“20?” Your nose scrunches up. “You’re kidding. That is literally a year away.”

Nishinoya nods his head, agreeing. “You’re right. We should start dating right now to get a head start since we know we’ll be single by then anyway. Ahead of the game, you know what I mean? The early bird gets the worm.”

“Hold on, what?” Whatever nonsense he’s spewing out now can’t hide the even bigger nonsense he just said before that, although he at least has the decency to smile when you look back at him, appearing incredulous.

“Yeah,” he says, for some reason.

“That… was not a yes or no question. What are you saying?”

(Yū would like to say he’s not at all tied down by the past. Though, he supposes that you’ve always been his anchor in a way.)

“What I’m saying is, I really like you.”

You watch his expression soften into something more genuine, and you wonder what’s louder: the cicadas, or the sound of your beating heart.

“I’ve liked you for years, actually,” he admits, uncharacteristically timid. “But I’m worried it’s one-sided. If it is, I don’t want things to change between us.”

You blink at him, in the midst of processing his confession. Nishinoya’s eyes bore into yours, waiting.

“It’s not one-sided at all,” you concede eventually. Your voice is surprisingly steady for how tumultuous your thoughts are. “I’ve liked you for a while, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

He grins.

And it’s almost like before, with you and him sitting on the windowsill and watching the sunset. But three years later, things are different.

For starters, you missed the sunset, but it’s not like that mattered much anyway. Nishinoya wraps his arm around your shoulders, even though you haven’t lost balance once throughout this entire conversation.

And then, under the periwinkle sky, he kisses you feverishly.

[l0vem41l]

star stickers and best efforts.

「 tws + notes: no tws, unedited, hurt/comfort but 100% not at all, reader is mildly mean when nervous LIKE A BAD DOG /ref and most definitely written self-indulgently by accident, sun is mildly condescending, they r each others best supporters, mentions of a customer being rude but rly nothing crazy, sun uh... he's an interesting fella, BIGGG dialogue chunks im sorry im sorry 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. the daycare attendant/sun/sundrop

author's note: my wip title was literally just "the one where you're yelled at" :p but... hiiii!!! obligatory return to fnaf real quick becuz,,, no, i still havent gotten into the ruin dlc but YES i do love sun's personality in help wanted 2..... if this is ooc u can erm. shove me into wet concrete. (。﹏。) aaannywayz!! missed this!!! missed this so much!!!! ( ╯□╰ ) sorry for not valentine's day posting,,, scandalous ik since im lit rally Called Valentine. but oh well. enjoy! or dont. if you dont im sorry please request fnaf stuff so i can Fix That /srs

if you weren't relying on this job to put food on your table and a roof on your head, you’d burn the freddy fazbear’s mega pizzaplex to the ground for a piece of pocket lint and a pat on the head.

maybe it’s a bit dramatic to say that— you're paid well, you like your mostly robot coworkers, and most of the time (emphasis on most and not always) the work is manageable enough.

the customers are another story.

sun notices the minute you walk in the daycare. you look like you're a minor inconvenience away from murder— which naturally, makes him feel inclined to prod a little.

“well, someone’s awfully sulky today!”

while you’d typically crack a smile at the upbeat jester animatronic, his enthusiasm in the face of your misery is grating. there’s no energy left in your body to banter with him— you were using most of it to drag your feet over to the shoe caddy, toolbox in hand to fix up its shelf, now hanging askew due to a busted bracket.

“can it, sunny, i don't wanna hear it.” you mutter, more venomous than you intend it to be. he doesn’t even blink at your grumpiness. instead, he happily holds up the shelf while you inspect it and grab a new bracket to secure it.

at least he’s trying to make himself useful. you think to yourself.

his faceplate tilts slightly, staring at you with that ever present grin. his staring isn’t really helping, but you don’t fault him for it. you’ve gotten used to his antics by now. “woke up on the wrong side of the bed?” sun questions.

you shake your head.

“got yelled at by a customer— now, if you could please just drop the topic—” you sigh exasperatedly, not even bothering to finish the sentence as you sit down cross legged in front of the shoe caddy, slumping slightly in defeat.

much too persistent for his own good, sun decides that inquiring even further about the incident that seems to have you beat down is a good idea. “what’d you do?”

you consider feigning offense as he insinuates it’s somehow your fault. but you don’t. you just shrug it off.

“my job.” 

“ah, they do hate it when you do that.” he tuts.

“it wasn’t even that big of a deal,” you mutter, getting the bracket in place and marking it, “this one kid just so happened to walk up to the arcade machine i was putting an out of order sign on. i felt bad, so like, obviously, i hand the kid a few tokens, apologize politely, explain— and you’d think it’s all good right?”

you pause mid-ramble as you fix up the shelf. in all your misery, you forgot that you don’t even know exactly what caused the shelf to collapse like this. you consider asking.

sun leans in just a bit too close, interrupting your train of thought as you stare at the shelf. when you glance at him, he gives you a little nod.

go on, he seems to say wordlessly. he’s waiting silently for you to continue your story. it’s never not unnerving when he’s quiet.

“...anyways, uh... the kid’s dad came by and got mad or something. didn’t understand why i couldn’t just let him play one game since it looked perfectly functional— keep in mind, this is the arcade machine that literally kept eating up tokens only to not function, and shocked kids when it did— so i kept trying to explain why i couldn’t exactly do that. but for some reason, it was such a big fucking deal—”

“language.” he chides.

“...fricking deal. of course, i had to be berated for it. i offered to grab them more faz-tokens as compensation and i thought the problem was solved... and then i checked and saw he still left a bad review. definitely gonna hear about that from management.” sun hands you a tool as you continue to speak.

“but now i’m upset, i’m definitely in trouble, and my face hurts from the whole customer service smile i was holding that entire conversation. like seriously, i don’t know how i’m expected to do that 24/7.” you stop at your last remark and stare at sun and his unchanging expression. “...my bad.”

the awkward silence only lasts for a moment, thankfully. you’ve spoken your piece— sun decides to speak his.

“you did your best.” he says simply, as you finally fix the shelf into place. he pats you on the head and doesn't even hide his amusement when you sulk.

“i know that tone, sunny, you're making fun of me—”

“poor thing.” he continues, grinning brightly as he makes a show of patronizing you. sun’s hand continues to pat the top of your head gently, like he would when consoling a child. or when greeting a dog. has he,,, ever seen a dog before? probably not.

you groan and manage to shove his arm away.

“i do mean it though,” he continues, his tone still lighthearted— but notably more earnest as he notes your expression. sun helps you put your tools away neatly back into the toolbox, even though it really is just a one-man job.

“you tried your best,” sun closes the toolbox with a flourish and a click, “...and for that—!”

with a dramatic flick of his wrist, bells jingling as he does, sun produces a gold star sticker from… somewhere. he holds it up for you to see.

and then gently presses it onto the tip of your nose.

“to my favoritest human employee here! and my bestest of friends!” it’s hard to bite back a smile at those words. even if his little show of empathy and affection is much too theatrical for your current mood.

“whatever.” you shrug a little, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from twitching into a little grin. standing up and grabbing the toolbox, you give him an awkward thumbs up.

“thanks. and uh… sorry. for being mean. i guess.”

sun shakes his head dismissively, bouncy and bright as ever. “oh, don't mention it!”

something about his seeming lack of offense towards your prickliness makes you feel even more guilty. still, he gives you a wave as you head out, “bye-bye”-ing happily as you walk away, sticker stuck to your nose and smile on your face like an idiot.

you decide you’ll find a way to make it up to him later. you figure he deserves that much for putting up with everything.

meanwhile, sun is taking mental notes on more stuff to break of whenever you’ve been away for too long. just in case, of course. maybe you’d have more interesting customer encounters to rant about. and hey, you could use the company, couldn’t you?

— reblogs always appreciated!

[pienhime]

Ten Under-Recognized Jirai Kei Characters!

Ive been meaning to make a post on some jirai kei characters that i think are underappreciated by the overseas landmine community! Mostly i think its bc they don't wear girly kei, cybercore, or other fashions associated with us on SNS, and bc their media came out before 2020. So ive compiled a list and an explanation for why i think they're jirai! I have another list for pien kei characters who arent jirai in my opinion too. If u have any characters u think the western jirai comm sleeps on, comment/reblog and tell me who & why!

1. Celestia Ludenberg

Celestia (Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc) has screamed landmine to me for like, ever! She's wrapped up in her appearance and at first glance makes the effort to come off as regal and formal. But she frequently lets that disguise slip and shows her sadistic side at the slightest inconvenience, threatening violence and screaming in peoples faces. She's got both a superiority complex AND inferiority complex, and has an unhealthy obsession with gambling, her super high school level talent.

2. Nijimin Anazawa

Nijimin (Mahou Shoujo Site) is super popular in the japanese jirai comm, and its easy to see why. She's easily lovestruck and a borderline yandere (dependent type), murderous and hellbent on revenge, and her magical power literally revolves around manipulating others. She's a beloved idol and a symbol of cuteness, but she's a murderous magical girl? How much more jirai can you get!

3. Mayoi Ayase

Mayoi (Ensemble Stars) is a very interesting character! From his obsession with the occult to his self depreciating behavior to his obsessive and stalkerish tendencies, he's an overall offputting yet charming guy. As an idol, he has fans who have a totally different image of him than the creep (affectionate) he can be at times behind the scenes. Also, not to stereotype, but his favorite sanrio character is kuromi, whos super popular within jirai.

4. Yuri

Yuri (Dokidoki Literature Club) being a landmine seems a little self-explanatory to me. She's a yandere character who's probably the most unassuming of the cast at first. She's shy, smart, kind... and a self-harming yandere with a knife fetish who will literally kill herself if you get involved romantically or reject her.

5. Yoosung

Wow, when's the last time I thought about Mystic Messanger? No idea, but Yoosung feels pretty jirai kei to me in retrospect. In the beginning of the game, hes the adorkable self-conscious junior with an unhealthy online addiction. But, by the end, he's a self-harming yandere who refuses to let the player character go, and is willing to do whatever it takes to secure a happily ever after.

6. Kusokawa-chan

While I have an immeasurable hatred for her creator, Kusokawa-chan (Menhera-chan spin-off 4komas) is a comfort character of mine... for some reason. With a name that means "kawaii trash", her personality is probably predictable. She's human trash, a sadistic asshole with no respect for others who will insult and berate you at the drop of a hat, and turn on a dime on her fans. She tries to cover it up by putting on an exaggerated innocent act and kawaii-fying herself and her life, but she just cant stop herself from exploding on others with no remorse.

7. Azusa Mukami

Admittedly, everything I know about Diabolik Lovers is through its fandom as I've yet to cave and buy the games. But from what little I know, Azusa seems pretty jirai. He seems innocent, fragile even- but has the typical amount of yandere tendencies for the series. He has a self harm addiction, and if you peruse his route you're in for a toxic time.

8. Satou Matsuzaka

This might be cheating because she's so popular on yandere tumblr, but Satou Matsuzaka (Happy Sugar Life) is ultra jirai kei. It's no wonder she's such a popular choice of pfp on japanese jiraitwt! She's obsessed with living out a fantasy saccarine-sweet life with the object of her desire, and given her full-blown yandere nature and her lolicon status, its no doubt shes a toxic partner. She's beloved at her school and workplace for her seemingly sweet nature and cute looks, but her kindness is only for the purposes of manipulation.

9. Kosame Amagai

Again, I'm no expert on Diabolik Lovers! But based on what my friends on yandereblr tell me, this guy is definately a jirai danshi. He's a lover of all things cute, who uses his cute shota-like appearance and polite manner of speech to lure others in. In reality, hes an abusive partner in his route, and takes his anger out on others verbally. He's willing to cry, scream, and threaten over the smallest of transgressions. Of course, he's also a yandere as per series standard.

10. Momonga

Okay so this is only half-serious, but there's a reason Momonga (Chiikawa) is so beloved by jirai girls and often depicted fitting the visual jirai stereotype in fanart. She's ultra cute! But she uses her appearance and acting vulnerable and innocent to try to get away with shithead behavior. She's loud, erratic, and self-obsessed, and often cries when she doesn't get her way. She's obviously the worlds cutest little manipulator, and she knows it.

I hope you enjoyed this list! There's a list for non-landmine pien kei characters coming soon, so feel free to send me asks with recommendations! And feel free to add on to this list in reblogs and comments!

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 6

Ao3 | 3k words | Freelancer’s POV

Freelancer catches a ride home. Vincent shares some of his deep lore. Gavin cooks bacon shirtless. Caelum is just here for the cinnamon buns.

TW: discussion of past injury, medical terms, discussion of transphobia

“It’s fine, Lasko.” You grinned into your phone as you tossed your backpack onto one shoulder. “My coworker is taking me home.”

“I’m so sorry!” Lasko squealed for about the twentieth time since calling you in a panic right as your shift ended.

You didn’t drive, so the burden of getting you to and from work was split pretty evenly between your boys. You made sure you only worked night shifts on the weekends so you were there to tuck Caelum into bed almost every night of the week and there to entertain him on the weekends while Gavin worked. There were some days, however, where it couldn’t be avoided. It was a Tuesday, and apparently Sam had called out of shift for the first time ever, so you came in out of the goodness of your heart. That, and Vincent’s begging, of course. He couldn’t bear to spend a shift with one of the firefighters as a make-shift EMT, especially not when the spare was Christain. He was a nice enough guy to you, but his constant whining started to grade on you after a few hours. You did not want Vincent to be trapped in a metal box with him for twelve hours.

The only downside of relying on Lasko for things like rides was that he was chronically late, and almost always had a scheduling conflict he’d forgotten about. It hadn’t been nearly as endearing last semester, when every minor inconvenience became the thing that sent you over the edge of your always-looming nervous breakdown. Now, though, you only had a slightly overwhelming number of things to do at home rather than a completely insurmountable amount. You had time and patience to burn.

“You’re sure that it's fine?” Lasko asked. His voice was about an octave and a half higher than its natural range. You could imagine the cute little pinch that lived on his brow when he was this worked up.

“I’m positive.” You smiled fondly. “Please try to relax. Try that tea Gavin got you!”

“Y-yeah that’s um… a great idea actually.”

“Love ya, buddy.” You hung up before he could spiral any further.

“Your friends sound adorably high strung.” Vincent stepped out of the locker room and bumped his shoulder into yours the way he did with Sam every time they greeted each other. It had been a few weeks since you’d first joined the 10-19. It was stressful. You worried your way through most of your shifts, but it also came so naturally to you. You were beginning to fall in step with Sam and Vincent, blending into their well-formed routines. You still fucked up. You still had more questions than you thought you should. But Sam and Vincent were incredibly accommodating, more so than you deserved.

“Just two of them. The other two are worryingly laid back.” You laughed. Vincent grinned, his canines sharp and straight and white. He looked haggard, and to his credit, it had been a batshit crazy shift. A few drunken assholes, a few more bloody injuries than you were accustomed to, at least not since that first night. Vincent took it all in stride, of course, he took everything in stride. You could just barely see the lines of that exhaustion drawn on his handsome face. That designer bag not even Christian dared tease him for was hanging on one shoulder as his (probably also designer) hoodie hung off the other. It seemed intentionally messy, intentionally mused. You smiled. Cute.

“Well, I’ll have to meet your polar opposite friends.” Vincent held the door for you as you stepped outside into the cold. It had transitioned into proper winter, and a chill spread across your cheeks and made your eyes water. It was early enough that you could see the first brushes of sunrise in the space between the buildings. The sounds of Dahlia's morning were just beginning to echo around you. Something in your chest that had shaken and seized for so long was very suddenly still. “We do a barbecue every spring. Everybody brings their family.”

You shivered at the thought of introducing Gavin to Sam. You’d have to hide behind Huxley for that particular interaction.

“You guys might not let me back in after seeing the company I keep.” You laughed. Vincent’s echoed yours around the parking lot.

“We don’t scare easy.”

Vincent’s car was parked in the far corner of the lot, a few spaces away from everybody else. You’d dated a few guys who did that; parked away from other cars to protect their paint jobs. Those guys had, of course, driven comparatively unimpressive cars. Vincent’s seemed to be genuinely vintage. You didn’t know shit about cars, but you did know that it looked old, and its shiny black paint job was flawless and pristine. He opened the passenger door for you with a dramatic wave of his hands before circling the car and plopping down into the driver’s seat. You held your backpack awkwardly in your lap as you glued your eyes to the red leather interior.

Vincent was rich. Only rich people had cars like this and kept them so fucking clean. There wasn’t a speck of dust or dirt on the carpet that you hadn’t just put there. You felt Vincent’s eyes trail to the same spot yours were on before they politely glanced away.

You’d forgotten about this particular kind of awkwardness; figuring out the right time to transition from work conversation to more personal conversation. You’d never been good at pinpointing when a coworker became a friend.

“So…” Vincent trailed the word over his clever lips, “want to gossip about Sam?” It startled a laugh out of you.

“Oh, Vincent,” you pressed a hand to your chest, swooning, “I thought you’d never ask.”

As it turned out, Vincent was just as perplexed by Sam’s call out as you were. He had a slightly worried edge as he talked about it, like the change in behavior had thrown him entirely. You could understand the apprehension. Sam was nothing if not steady. He was a constant in the 10-19. Always early, always leaving late. Vincent had never known him to be anything else.

“You two are close,” you inclined your head, the question unasked but clear. You wondered, sometimes, given their connection, what exactly the two of them were. Vincent met your eye with the corner of his, a dangerous, sharp smile curling across his lips.

“We’ve known each other a long time.” He answered your question with his tone alone. Your cheeks burned, but you fought to keep your air casual. “He was on my medical team when he was a surgical intern. Saved my life a few times.” You hummed noncommittally, allowing him room to share or hold back whatever he chose to. “I was in an accident when I was a teenager.” he said after a moment. It was a well worn explanation, something he’d said over and over again. “Broke my spine, traumatic brain injury, the works.”

“Jesus,” you breathed, shaking your head.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Vincent laughed. “Anyway, to make a very long story short, my surgeon adopted me so I could use his insurance.”

“William Solaire.” You provided before you could stop yourself.

“You know him?”

“I’ve read… one or two of his journals.” All of them. And his book.

“Yeah, that guy. He adopted me and Sam was the surgical intern in charge of my case. He was like… six years older than me? We were close enough in age and he spent so much fucking time with me that… yeah, we got close. By the time I was out of the hospital, we just… kept hanging out. Eventually I recovered enough to like… be normal? And he talked me into getting my EMT certification.”

“He’s a good guy.” You said softly. Vincent nodded.

“Yeah.” He said. “Just�� with really bad taste.”

“Oh yeah?” You laughed.

“He’s got a track record.” Vincent shrugged. You pointed out your apartment building. Vincent’s fancy car purred into a free spot. “Just… yeah. Everybody is so tight lipped about Tank and… I don’t know. I worry.”

“For what it’s worth,” you offered, “they don’t give me the vibes of an abusive asshole.”

“How are you sure?” He asked. Something about his voice seemed suddenly vulnerable. You sighed softly.

“I just… you know. I’ve met enough of them. Abusive assholes, that is.”

“Ah.” Vincent nodded, his face tight with understanding. Early morning light filtered in from between the buildings, still gray and not quite beautiful yet. You blinked the exhaustion from your eyes.

“Wanna come up for breakfast-dinner?” You asked.

“I’d love that.”

You realized, as you were ascending the stairs towards your top floor apartment, that there was a very real chance that Gavin was naked. He worked very hard to keep Caelum insulated from his work, but he also spent the majority of his time alone in the apartment in as much of a state of undress as he could get away with. You held your breath as you opened the door, angling to step in front of Vincent or maybe cover his eyes like you did Caelum during scary scenes in movies.

The apartment smelled like bacon and cinnamon sugar, and you relaxed into the warmth and homeliness of it all as you kicked off your work boots. You chucked your backpack in the corner next to Caelum’s and rushed around the corner before Vincent could.

Gavin was at the stove. He was wearing a pair of your sweatpants, purple and ancient and sinfully tight on him. Dark, curling hair fell around his face in mussed ringlets. He was shirtless, his carefully maintained musculature and tan on full display. You swept your eyes across his chest. The light, pinkish scar tissue under his pecks usually didn’t draw your attention, but you worried when introducing him to people whose views you hadn’t had the chance to suss out.

Vincent wasn’t an asshole. He asked you your pronouns when meeting you for the first time. He didn’t bat an eye the few times you’d mentioned Damien and Huxley. Even still, you couldn’t help the surge of protectiveness that overtook you when it came to Gav.

“Hello, De-” Gavin turned in time to spot Vincent, the lewd nickname on his lips morphing as he realized that you had company, “-my love!” He chirped. His features took on a slightly alarmed edge, but when his eyes met you, they softened. You must have looked exhausted. “Who’s your friend?”

“Hey, baby,” you pressed a hand to the small of his back and kissed his temple as he turned back to the eggs he was scrambling, “this is Vincent. Vincent, this is my partner, Gavin.” Gavin looked back over his shoulder, cut his eyes up and down Vincent before a smile curled around his teeth.

“In all the stories you told me about Vincent,” Gavin said, and you braced yourself for whatever innuendo or flirtatious remark he was about to make, “you never mentioned that he was a dreamboat.”

It was just how Gavin was. He was a flirt, a devastating one, and with everybody who didn’t directly indicate they didn’t enjoy it. He often started out relationships this way, a quick compliment or sexual comment that would gauge how far he could go with any given person. It got him in trouble sometimes, but he always claimed it told him who he did and didn’t want to be associated with. You were of the opinion that there was nothing wrong with the way he talked to people, but that didn’t mean the manners you were raised with were suddenly out the window.

Vincent was struck silent for a moment, and his gray eyes followed the same path over Gavin as Gavin’s had followed over him. Then, a delightful little giggle bubbled up and out of him. Gavin was right, of course. Vincent was a dreamboat. He was thin but muscular in the right places, and his dark hair framed his narrow face precisely. He swiped a hand over his face before leveling Gavin with the same knee-shaking grin he gave to particularly flirty patients.

“In all the stories you told me about Gavin,” Vincent’s eyes flicked to you, “you never mentioned that he was exactly my type.”

“We’re too similar.” You shrugged, relaxing into the knowledge that Gavin was safe here, with this person you’d brought into his space. “I didn’t want to have to battle it out for him.”

“Please, please,” Gavin laughed, “there’s plenty of me to go around.” He motioned for your hoodie, which you relinquished without a thought, and then stepped towards the back of the apartment, where the three bedrooms rested all in a row. “Caelum!” He called down the hallway, “Breakfast! We’re late, buddy.”

Vincent cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Our kid.” You supplied, handing him a plate as you pulled the cinnamon buns from the oven. Gavin had forgotten them, but you wouldn’t let them burn. They were Caelum’s favorite at the moment, which meant you were eating them breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Caelum hated when you worked the night shift. He claimed that he couldn’t sleep in the apartment when you were gone, even though you called to tell him goodnight and he knew Gavin was there. His therapist said it had something to do with his sense of security. Caelum had never had an abundance of supportive, safe adults in his life before coming to stay with you and Gavin. He did now, of course. Between you and your boys, he had enough parents to supply a small village.

Their father, Gavin’s and Caelum’s, had failed them in many, many ways. Gavin said the only good thing the man had ever done for him was signing over his parental rights. Gavin was determined that Caelum wouldn’t see a single consequence that he had for their parent’s shortcomings.

Caelum didn’t bound down the hallway the way he did most mornings. He was mostly dressed, save for socks and shoes. He was technically wearing a pajama shirt, but you weren’t choosing that particular hill to die on. The two of you had argued enough times about the top to his Spider-Man pajamas to drive you actually insane. At this point, if it bothered other people, that was their problem. His sandy hair was still wild and he rubbed one chubby little kid hand over his eyes as he walked out into the bright, bustling kitchen.

“You were gone all night.” He said by way of greeting. You smiled softly and scooped him up, peppering his cheeks with kisses.

“Sorry, buddy.” You said gently, settling him in a seat next to you, across from Vincent at your small kitchen table. “Had to work. I’ve got cinnamon buns to buy!”

“Gav never has to work at night.” Caelum said defiantly. He eyed Vincent suspiciously, but didn’t introduce himself. He struggled with new adults sometimes, especially men. It was good practice, his therapist insisted, to introduce him to a handful of trusted people with little or no warning.

“Gav has worked enough nights for one lifetime.” Gavin sighed as he sat next to Vincent. “Eat your sugar, Sugar.”

Caelum giggled at the pet name. Halfway through breakfast, he stood on his chair to extend a hand to Vincent across the table, loudly announcing his name. After that particular seal was broken, he chatted Vincent’s ear off about how excited he was to go to school because it was nearly time for winter holiday and that meant they weren’t doing any math at all anymore.

Once breakfast was over, Caelum carried his own plate to the sink and ran off to gather his socks and shoes.

“Cute kid,” Vincent smiled, “my partner works with kids around his age. I never personally saw the appeal, but hey.” He shrugged.

“Trust me, neither did I,” Gavin laughed, “but I met him once and just couldn’t say no.”

“Caelum is Gavin’s half-brother.” You explained.

“I thought you two looked a little young to have a kid his age.” Vincent grinned. Gavin laughed and shrugged, grabbing his fur-lined, impractically cropped winter coat from the rack next to the door.

“He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He smiled, a rare moment of unguarded emotion passing over his features. Vincent’s smile deepened.

“He’s adorable.”

“He is!” Caelum emerged from his room, winter coat on, and grabbed for his backpack.

“Come on, buddy,” Gavin offered his hand and snagged his keys from their designated hook, “we’re late for the bus.”

“If we miss it, will we go for ice cream like last time?” Caelum laughed. Your eyes widened as you leveled Gavin with a deadly look.

“He’s joking!” Gavin splayed his hands out in a show of innocence. “What an imagination! Kick my ass for that later, we’re actually very late, I love you!”

You sighed as the door shut, a fond smile worming its way onto your face despite your annoyance.

Vincent helped you clean up, dutifully dried the dishes as you washed them. He gathered his jacket, keys, and bag.

“I had no idea,” he said, as he made his way towards the door, “that you had so much going on.”

“Oh, I mean,” you shook your head, “it’s not…” you swallowed, fighting back the urge to downplay your circumstances like you always had. “It’s… I’m very happy.”

“I’m sure.” Vincent smiled, but not his usual smile. That thing was all sharp canines and facade. This one was almost gentle, almost blushing. “You’re just um… you’re so focused. I have a hard time keeping up with you sometimes. It’s hard to believe you have anything to think about besides medicine.”

It startled a laugh out of you. You felt so scattered most of the time.

“Vincent Solaire,” you grinned, “you flirt.”

“Guilty as charged.” That sharp smile was back. “I’ll text you if Sam does anything worrying. See ya, Probie!”

The apartment was quiet once the latch slid back into place. You had a million things to do. Instead, you crawled into bed and slept like the dead. You woke halfway through the day, curled against Gavin’s side. He mumbled something inappropriate into your hair before he began snoring again. The million things you had to do could wait just a little bit longer.