#to think i was in high school the last time i was fixated on his music. wow

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[wp100]

I remember when the MJ Oslo Dangerous show leaked... That shirt rip during 'Man in The Mirror'. good times

also Johannesburg 1997. His parents were in the crowd. I totally forgot about taht fact lol. He was pretty exhausted in that show tho, think it was his second-to-last HIStory show. Can be hard to watch at times

I think another show must've leaked while I was absent from the fandom (since like LN released, 2018?) Copenhagen '92 I believe (looks like it was 'released' AKA leaked after I left... Great timing lol)

Basel... Omfg Basel. I remember seeing that Beat It clip. I couldn't stop watching it for days and days lol. I wanted new pro footage so badly for my shitposts and 'edits'

[hannieoftheyear]

after all this time (kmg) TEASER

When you get asked to be on the wedding party of a long-lost friend, you get the chance to reconnect with former classmate Mingyu, but not without your old feelings and struggles resurfacing.

Posted! find it here

pairing: groomsman!mingyu x bridesmaid!reader

w.c: 1,2k (teaser), full au will probably be around ~15k

genre: friends to lovers, fluff (teaser), smut, angst (full work)

warnings for the full work: it's another self-indulgent 'running away from your high school past' story from me, dealing with insecurities, a lot of not standing up for oneself, will probably add more as i keep writing :p

note: don't know when exactly i'll post this one, but i'll try to do it before september ends!! comment on this post if you want to be on the taglist ♥

It is said that changing your usual routine helps improving your mood, taking another path home, shopping at a new place, sitting down at a different park, changing your coffee order, changing the little things to feel more energized and be more productive. You wouldn’t know, because every task you complete as fast as possible to be back home quickly. So, after days of not being to think about anything else but the upcoming wedding, it’s your only option left. 

The sky lit up with golden light, the grass and trees as green as ever, and a light breeze that prevents you from getting too hot, you walk around a park you’ve never been to before with your new ‘hot girl walk’ playlist as a soundtrack. The kids playing on the playground are the only sounds that get through your ears besides the music, maybe a bark or two as well, and the sun against your skin soothes all your worries. Damn. Going on a walk does fix your mood. 

A hand grabbing your arm softly startles you, and you’re about to punch the mystery person when you recognize his face. 

“Mingyu?” 

His eyes are focused on your fist that was ready to hit him and you lower it down, beginning to take out your airpods. 

“Sorry! You scared me!” You erupt in a nervous laughter. 

“I’m sorry! I called your name but you didn’t hear me.” 

He stands apologetic in front of you, looking down at his feet before daring to look back up at you. 

“How are you doing? We didn’t get to talk the other day.” 

“Yeah! It’s good to see you! I didn’t expect you to be there, it was a nice surprise.” 

Is it too weird to say that? Well, it’s already done. 

You notice a bike by his side, a cute pink helmet with glittery heart stickers hanging by the handle. He must’ve been biking when he saw you and took it off before calling your name. 

He gets the tiniest bit shy at your words, his ears turning a light shade of pink before disappearing quickly. 

“It’s been so long...” 

“I didn’t know if you were still friends with Olivia, I didn’t know if I was going to see you.” 

“Oh, we’re not really that close anymore.” 

You fixate on the first part of his last sentence, ignoring your body’s reaction to him implying he wanted to see you. There’s a silence as you finish your words, as it wasn’t the reply he was expecting. 

“Life, you know? We just grew apart.” 

It was you who stopped making an effort to talk to them, but even if it was still for your own good, you’re a little ashamed to admit it to Mingyu. 

“She still asked you to be her bridesmaid, that must mean something.” 

Ever the positive guy, he tries to make you feel better after the sour comment. 

“Yeah, it’s really nice of her.” 

The sun shining so bright prevents you from looking up at him, but you smile hoping he notices. 

The slow steps you’ve been taking side by side turn awkward with silence. You wanted so badly to talk to him after the other day, but now that he’s here, in front of you, your mind goes blank. 

“It’s good that you still hang out with the guys.” 

You don’t know what else to say, and the words spill out of your mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice the awkward atmosphere, his body as comfortable as ever walking by your side. 

“Yeah, even though not as often as I’d like.” A regretful smile forms across his lips, “Our schedules haven’t been lining up, I just met Olivia in person for the first time yesterday actually.” 

“What? There’s no way, you didn’t share any classes in school?” 

He shakes his head, chuckling at your surprise. 

“I think I only ever shared one class with her, but I didn’t really care much about her crowd back then.” 

“Wow, thanks for that.” 

He means all the popular guys your friends would hang out with, and you know it, but there was always something so fun in teasing him and seeing him get so pouty. 

"You know I don’t mean you.” 

His shoulder pushes your body lightly to the side and you chuckle together. It’s hard to prevent the red to rush to your cheeks, maybe he’ll mistake it for a faint sunburn. 

“That’s a cute helmet you got there.” 

Your eyes point to it as a way to distract him. 

“Oh, that?” 

He picks it up with what seems to be an embarrassed voice tone, but his actions quickly override it. He puts it on proudly and looks at you with his eyebrows raised, “my sister gave it to me when I bought the bike, gets all the ladies.” 

“I'm sure it does.” 

Attention from women he for sure gets, but probably not because of that thing. You didn’t get a proper look at him the other day, and now, standing next to him in broad daylight, you almost wish you could still live in the ignorance bliss of not knowing the exact height difference between you two. His tall, muscular, body is only enhanced by his tight blue t-shirt.  

“So, what are you doing around here?” 

His words make you realize you’ve been staring for a few seconds, and you look ahead hoping he didn’t notice. He forgets to remove the helmet, making you chuckle quietly before answering. 

“I just got off from work and thought it would be nice to take a different route home.” 

“That’s such a coincidence! I come here, like, almost every week to bike around.”  

“Wow, It really is.” 

For how long have you been avoiding this specific park for no reason? Pushing away your chance of meeting the one and only person you would’ve wanted to? 

A ping from his phone alerts the both of you, taking you out of your little bubble. 

“Sorry I-" His expression falls as he reads the new text, “I have to get going, but it was really nice seeing you!” 

"Oh, sure! I didn’t mean to hold you back.” It comes out quieter than you’d like. “Goodbye!” With a simple smile a tiny wave at him, you turn around. 

Right when he gets on his bike again, before he starts pedaling, he looks back at you, taking your first step in the opposite direction. 

“Wait!” When you turn around, he’s taking his phone out of his front pocket, “Can I get your number?” 

The both of you blush at his words, and you look up at him cautiously. 

“So we can catch up and, you know, get comfortable with each other for the wedding.” 

You had already forgot about that. The reason you even ran into him in the first place. 

“Sure!” 

Your hand trembles slightly when you take his phone and you beat yourself up for it. It’s just your number! It could mean nothing. 

“I’ll text you later so you can save mine.” 

And with a wink, he’s off to whatever he was late to. 

Great. Now you’re not only re-living your high-school anxieties, but also your high-school crushes. 

[sofiascripts]

love in recovery!: the unmanliest of pairs ✧˖° ༯

༉‧₊˚. part two to love in recovery ✧˚ · . bakugou cant stop thinking about you, he reflects on your moments together during the last few weeks and decides hes gotta see you! one problem though, schools are out of session for winter break and he has no idea where to find you. thankfully theres midoriya!

✎ wc: 7946

⤑ tw: not proofread, cursing, also i ended up taking the love at first site route with this so it might be ooc bakugou… </3 or maybe its very in character bc ur just that awesome he couldnt help himself really (it gets pretty ooc at the end, i was struggling but i NEEDED it to end that way so his usual demeanor had to disappear for a sec.)

bakugou was in what he believed was a state of despair. his mind, usually consumed with concerns about hero work and his so-called “publicity problems,” had recently become fixated on something entirely different: you.

it all began when bakugou was enlisted to help out during finals week at his old high school. the hero course students were gearing up for a practical exam against pro heroes. he remembered his own practical exams, which were conducted by his old teachers. this time, however, the school decided to mix things up by bringing in younger, fresher heroes. the idea was to inspire the students and give them a chance to work with their idols, pros they don't get to see on a daily basis. additionally, it provided a great opportunity to boost the young pros' hero rankings–

and it was a nice tax break for the agencies involved.

“itll be nice to roam those familiar halls, and visit our old teachers and our classrooms, where our forgotten youth still lingers.” tokoyami remarked, his voice heavy with a wistful undertone. they all exchange uneasy glances before kirishima placed a comforting hand on tokoyamis shoulder and cleared his throat.

“yeah something like that man– heard midoriya talking about a few new heroes joining in,” kirishima added shifting the focus.

“yeah! heard recovery girl finally retired. the new one’s apparently a cutie,” kaminari said leaning back into his seat with a wide grin.

“she is! izukus invited her a couple times when we met up with our old group,” uraraka said, her face lighting up with enthusiasm. “she’s got this really warm, friendly vibe. every time ive worked with her, she’s been so caring and attentive. it’s clear she really loves what she does”

“yep! she’s healed me once! she really knows her stuff–her quirk is impressive, shes also got this reassuring presence that makes you feel better just being around her,” tsuyu added with a smile.

“who cares about that kind of crap?” bakugou grumbled, rolling his eyes. “didnt meet up to talk about some new nurse. what i want to know is what kind of target practice we’re dealing with for the next two weeks."

the group let out a unified sigh as the conversation shifted back to their work. they shared notes from the recent sports festivals and began detailing the students they’d be testing, outlining the quirks and abilities to expect. each pro hero reviewed the information attentively, mentally preparing for the demanding two weeks ahead.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

 on the first day of finals, the six pros entered the building, the familiar halls of u.a. stirring memories of their own time as students. the air was thick with anticipation, a mixture of nerves and nostalgia that tugged at their senses. aizawa met them at the entrance, his usual tired expression softened slightly as he acknowledged his former students with a curt nod.

“you’re cutting it close,”aizawa murmured, gesturing for them to follow him. “the students are already in the testing site, so we need to head there immediately”

“apologies, mr. aizawa," tokoyami added, his tone somber. "i feared glimpsing the shadows of our past selves, the echoes we once cast.” his words left the group staring at him awkwardly.

“he missed the bus,” kirishima clarified with a shake of his head. aizawa nodded, already familiar with tokoyamis, interesting demeanor. there was no time for pleasantries or catching up with their old teachers, as they were already running a bit late. the group moved swiftly through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the school.

as they rounded a corner, they passed by the infirmary. the door was slightly ajar, and midoriya was leaning casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed. he was engaged in conversation with someone inside, his voice carrying a tone of lighthearted teasing that caught their attention.

“yeah, well, let’s hope we don’t run into each other too much today. if the students stay injury-free, you might actually get a chance to relax!” midoriya’s smile was bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke.

bakugou barely registered midoriya’s words, his attention immediately caught by the soft, warm laugh that followed. 

“god, i wish,” you replied with a playful sigh, amusement lacing your voice. “but if these kids are anything like aizawa described you, i’ll probably end up needing help myself.”

as the group walked by, bakugou’s eyes were already peering in, there you were standing in the infirmary, leaning against a counter with a white coat draped over your frame. the crisp, clean fabric paired nicely with the light color of your sundress which fell loosely around you. your arms were crossed casually, and the cheeky grin on your face sent an unexplainable jolt through him.

for a brief moment, bakugou’s mind scrambled for an explanation—had one of these brats used their quirk on him? his palms grew damp, a slight prickling sensation tingling beneath his skin, but he quickly dismissed it, convincing himself it was just the heat of the building, the stress of the upcoming practicals. but deep down, he knew that wasn’t it.

your eyes briefly met his as they walked past, and the world seemed to snap back into focus. he scowled, turning his gaze back to the path ahead, but the image of you lingered in his mind, seared into his thoughts like a stubborn ember refusing to die out.

“damn brats,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, as they continued on their way to the testing site. but his usual biting tone lacked its usual conviction, the warmth of your laugh still echoing in his ears, a sound that somehow felt both familiar and entirely new.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

at the end of the day, bakugou found himself walking down a very familiar hallway, telling himself it was only because this was the way he’d come in. why wouldn’t he leave the same way? his idiot friends were probably lost, trying to find their way out of the school from the testing site, so it only made sense to take this route.

right?

as he continued down towards the front entrance of the school, he just so happened to pass the infirmary.

he noticed two students exiting the room. one of them had a faint blush on his cheeks—probably a reaction to your quirk. bakugou’s mind flashed back to his first time being healed by recovery girl. even though she was an old lady, the awkwardness of the whole process still made him flush with embarrassment. he couldn't imagine how much worse it wouldve been if the healer had been someone like you someone younger.

just then, he remembered the scratch—no, more like a faint slash—on the right side of his forehead. 

might as well get checked out while he was here, he reasoned. hed be cursing himself if that damn wound messed with his performance during his shift later. plus, if he was going to be dealing with more students tomorrow, he needed to be at his best.

with that excuse firmly in mind, bakugou took a deep breath and headed towards the infirmary, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened, though he figured it was just the tightness of the quirk nullifying bands around his wrists. it couldnt have anything to do with you.

he stepped in quietly, noticing how you were engrossed in paperwork, likely documenting all the students you’d treated that day. the room was filled with the soft rustling of papers, and the sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. bakugou stood at the doorframe for a moment, feeling like an idiot the longer he stood there. despite his intense glare, you seemed completely oblivious to his presence.

with an irritated huff, bakugou strode over to one of the infirmary beds and dropped himself onto it, the springs creaking under his weight. the sudden noise finally jolted you out of your focus. your eyes snapped up, widening in surprise, and bakugou smirked to himself when he saw your hand tighten around your pen, like you were ready to use it as a weapon against whoever dared to intrude.

“got hit,” he stated flatly, pointing at the cut on his forehead.

you raised an eyebrow, “oh? pro hero dynamite got bested by a couple of kids?” you teased, your tone light but your eyes filled with a playful glint.

from you, his usual scowl deepening. “second, they made me go easy on those brats. ‘course they landed a hit. not like they could keep up with me.” he said, mimicking the instructors’ voices with exaggerated annoyance. “‘told me i couldn’t just fail them all, it would ruin their self-esteem.”

he grumbled, still irked by the memory. he couldn’t shake the irritation gnawing at him. he was totally against going easy on them; he knew firsthand that failure was crucial for getting stronger. it wasn’t about being a jerk—it was about giving them the chance to face their weaknesses and improve. he was pissed off that they were missing out on that important lesson. but he also knew that if he defied the rules, it would only make things worse for everyone. so, as much as it grated on him, he followed the damn rules.

as he watched you move closer to him, he noticed you were trying to hold back a smile, he also saw the glint of amusement in your eyes, which made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to. while you inspected his forehead, he felt an odd vulnerability. 

he felt your gaze scan his entire body, a mix of frustration and discomfort bubbling beneath the surface as your closeness stirred unsettling feelings. a strong heat rose at the back of his neck, and he tried to distract himself by focusing on the wall behind you. when your eyes finally landed on his wrists, you picked up one of his hands and examined it with even greater intensity. your shocked expression was unmistakable, and it was clear you couldn’t hide it.

“they slapped these on too,” he grumbled, gesturing to the heavy weights strapped to his ankles. he couldn't stop himself from trying to show off a little bit more, “said it was to ‘even the playing field.’ whatever that means.”

you hummed thoughtfully, gently inspecting the quirk-suppressing bands. “they really didn’t want you going all out, huh?” you murmured, your tone both curious and sympathetic.

he huffed, crossing his arms defensively. “if i hadn’t been wearing all this crap, they wouldn’t have landed a damn finger on me.”

he pointed to the small cut on his forehead again, a slight tilt of his head trying to hint that he was expecting something. he remembered the conversation with his friends when they were going over the students quirks, someone had mentioned that you were like recovery girl or something, using a quirk that required a kiss to heal. he didn’t get why you had to be so soft about it, but he also didn’t want to look like a complete idiot and ask for it directly.

“what, you think i’m here for a band-aid? just get it over with already.”

you stared at him with an odd look on your face. after a moment of silence, you muttered a quiet, “right,” before your lips brushed lightly against the cut on his wrist. the warmth of your touch was unexpectedly soothing, sending a strange flutter through his chest that he quickly shoved aside.

“all set!” you said softly, moving over to your desk to busy yourself with paperwork. he glanced at the mirror, checking the spot where the cut had been. satisfied, he started to leave but paused when he heard you chuckle softly.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, irritation mingling with curiosity.

“oh, nothing,” you replied, “just picturing you going easy on a bunch of kids. it’s hard to imagine.”

he grunted in response, feeling a rare twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth. it was an unfamiliar sensation, and he didn’t know how to process it, which seemed to be a recurring theme in this room.

“don’t get used to it,” he warned, “next time, those brats won’t know what hit ‘em.”

you rolled your eyes, finally allowing yourself to smile as you watched him head toward the door. “try not to get hit again, dynamite,” you called after him, half-teasing, half-serious.

he glanced back at you, smirking. “don’t hold your breath.”

bakugou made his way down the halls toward the front of the building, a strange shift occurring within him as he thought about the odd sensations he’d experienced in your room. he’d always prided himself on being the toughest, most unbeatable guy around—someone who didn’t need anyone’s sympathy or affection. he certainly didn’t care for any of that sappy, lovey-dovey stuff.

but after you gave him a quick kiss on the forehead and let out that soft laugh��just like the one he’d heard earlier, but this one had been for him—he felt an unfamiliar warmth. your playful teasing, the way your cheeks flushed as you avoided his gaze, and the gentle touch as you healed his cut all lingered in his mind. as he walked out the doors of ua, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he might actually care about that ‘kind of crap.’

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

after that, he stopped by every day, always after the students were gone. he didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about his frequent visits. he was only coming by because it was convenient and you were tolerable. plus, you just happened to be on his way out, so he figured he might as well check in to make sure you weren’t slacking off. with the kids getting roughed up more than usual because of him, it was his duty as a pro hero to ensure the school’s support staff could handle the extra strain.

they had reached the end of the week, marking the completion of the first half of finals. students would rest over the weekend to prepare, as next week the rest of the second-years and first-years would be taking their tests. after that, school would be out for winter break and the young pro-heros would get to go back to working full time. 

today, he decided to check in and ensure the infirmary was fully stocked. it wouldn’t do for you to run out of supplies in the middle of finals. he couldn’t focus on his part if he knew the kids wouldn’t get the proper care they needed afterward. so he had to make sure you had everything you needed for the upcoming week.

he marched in with his usual scowl, pretending to inspect the shelves while you stared at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion, “do you need anything dynamite?”

“making sure youre all stocked up.” he grumbled, refusing to meet your gaze. “don’t need any of these brats whining because you’re out of bandages.”

“oh? you know, i’m perfectly capable of keeping things in order,” you teased, leaning back against the counter with that same cheeky grin that had been haunting his thoughts.

as if on cue, he’d suddenly remember a tiny scratch on his cheek today. they were always minor injuries—barely worth a second glance—but he made a point of showing them to you, as if they needed your immediate attention, always saying something like:

“got a cut on my finger. don’t need a fuss, just make it quick.”

“got a little nick on my palm, just need it wrapped up or whatever.”

“got a scratch here. honestly nothing, but i guess you should take a look.”

you always had something smart to say, today you went with, “oh, look at that,” 

after his second visit, your tone began to shift from actual concern to a mix of amusement and feigned concern. “you’ve got a little scrape. better let me take care of that.”

he’d huff, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal. “just get it over with.”

during his second, third, and fourth visits, you tended to his injury with a regular old first aid kit. you explained that it was better to let such a minor cut heal on its own, emphasizing how small the injury was—something that only seemed to irritate bakugou. you wanted to ensure that his body didn’t become dependent on a quirk for healing, even for minor wounds.

bakugou didn’t argue or ask for any extra attention. he was determined to stay above such petty requests. however, he found that he didn’t mind the touch of your hands, which were gentle and precise. each time your fingers brushed against his skin, he felt a small, unwelcome jolt of warmth, though he never let it show.

but today was different.

today felt like the first day all over again. 

he hoped you couldn’t see or feel the heat radiating from him as you leaned in and teased, “so, bakugou, are you here for the healing, or do you just enjoy my company?” you raised an eyebrow playfully. “because these tiny bruises hardly seem worth the trip.”

you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and he instantly felt the soothing effects of your quirk.

“told you, it’s about staying in top shape. can’t have anything slowing me down, not even a damn scratch,” he snapped, his voice tinged with a forced irritation. “gotta be at my best if i’m gonna be number one.”

as you leaned back, your gaze lingered on him with an unreadable expression. the soft, ambient light of the infirmary cast a gentle glow around you, accentuating the warmth of your smile. despite the cool air, he felt an intense heat creep to his neck, betraying his attempt to stay composed. 

bakugou turned his face slightly, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding. mumbling a quick thanks, he tried to regain his composure, his movements slightly stiff as he prepared to leave. 

he walks out of your office thinking about how he wished he would have let his friends talk about the new nurse at ua.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou nearly missed his visit today. it was the last day of finals, and his friends were eager to celebrate the end of the grueling two weeks of work. they wanted to head to a café around the corner—a favorite spot from their school days. bakugou had initially planned to meet them there, but they insisted on walking together. this was why he now found himself angrily trudging through the school halls, his frown evident as he moved.

when they stepped out of the school, bakugou abruptly stopped in his tracks. he quickly patted himself down, feigning realization that he had forgotten his phone. he put on a show, acting as if he was in a rush to retrieve it.

after a brief and hurried detour, he found his way back to the infirmary, dashing through the corridors with the same urgency as a student late to class. he slowed down every time he passed an open door, then sped up again, repeating this process until he finally arrived back at the infirmary.

his frustration was already high from the charade, but it reached new heights when he saw you and midoriya together, seemingly engrossed in each other. you were sitting close, helping midoriya upload the practical grades onto a computer. the sight of you two so close, with midoriya’s easy smile and your focused attention, only intensified bakugou's irritation.

he slumped onto one of the infirmary beds, his posture stiff and impatient. he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling, waiting for you and midoriya to finish what he perceived as an overly affectionate interaction. he tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy that flared up every time he glanced at the two of you, his mood darkening with each passing moment.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you visit recovery girl this much back in our school days, kachann,” bakugou quickly turned to his childhood friend, his eyes narrowed and his palms began to warm up. but just before he could bark out a reply, you had cut in, “what?” 

bakugou’s patience snapped as midoriya’s smirk widened. midoriyas voice dropped to a teasing tone. “oh, nothing. just noticing how often you’re in here these days, bakugou. you know, back in the day, you couldn’t stand being patched up, always rushing out before recovery girl could even finish. funny how things change.”

the words hit bakugou like a punch to the gut. he felt his anger flare, his fists clenching at his sides. he shot to his feet, his voice coming out in a low, threatening growl. “scram, nerd. didn’t want old lady lips on me back then, and i sure as hell don’t want you flappin’ yours now.”

midoriya chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender as he took a step back. he thanked you once more before giving bakugou a teasing smile and walking out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

bakugou’s irritation simmered as he watched midoriya leave. the heat in his cheeks was a mix of embarrassment and anger. he slumped back onto the infirmary bed, trying to shake off the tension that midoriya’s comments had stirred up inside him.

you turned your full attention to him, a small laugh escaping your lips. “you’re really going to blow a gasket one of these days, bakugou,” you teased, walking over with a calm, collected grace. the way you moved, so assured and at ease, only seemed to fuel his inner turmoil.

“shut up and just get on with it,” he grumbled, but it was clear there was no bite to his words. he was trying to mask the red creeping up his neck. he was determined not to let you see how much midoriya’s comments had affected him.

and its like the universe was against him because you couldn’t resist one last tease before getting down to business. “you’ve really gotta tell me, are you here for the treatment, or is it my company you’re after?” the playful glint in your eye made his facade crumble a little bit.

“just do your damn job,” he muttered, though he couldn’t entirely hide the faintest hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he sat back down. your teasing, while annoying, had a way of making him feel strangely at ease.

he decided the universe was on his side again when you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to the small bruise on his shoulder. bakugou watched you intently, his irritation slowly melting away under the soothing warmth of your quirk. despite his gruff exterior, he always found that during these moments with you, whether you used your quirk or not, the constant pressure he carried with him all day would finally start to ease up.

as you gently pulled back, your eyes locked with his. today was the last day he’d have the chance to drop by like this. over the past two weeks, these visits had become a regular part of his routine. lately, he’d started coming in the mornings and in between his scheduled practicals, under the guise of “checking up on the students he roughed up.”

this would be the final time he could casually walk in and share these small, meaningful moments with you. the thought of missing these interactions left him more unsettled than he wanted to admit. before you could say anything, he stood up abruptly, a mix of emotions flashing across his face. without another word, he turned and made his way to the door, his footsteps heavy with unspoken feelings.

“bakugou,” you called out, making him stop pause. he turned to face you, the hint of curiosity in his eyes.

you offered him a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood. “be careful out there. won’t be around to patch all those little scrapes and bruises.”

he raised an eyebrow, his scowl softening slightly as he took in your words. “so?”

you shrugged, a teasing grin on your lips. “sooo don’t want those little injuries to add up and start slowing you down, especially with your fight for the number one spot and all.”

he huffed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “no promises,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked out of your little office for the last time. 

the door clicked shut behind him, and as he moved down the hallways, now deserted with all the students gone, he realized that the mess of emotions inside him wasn’t from any damn quirk. on top of that, he couldn’t shake the relentless feeling that he’d regret leaving you behind without finally tell you how he really felt, even if it still confused the hell out of him.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

he was right.

bakugou walked out of his agency with his usual scowl, but his mind was elsewhere. instead of focusing on his next mission, he replayed every interaction between the two of you—how you treated the students and tended to his cuts and bruises. he thought about your caring nature, your teasing attitude, and how your presence seemed to calm him despite his usual irritation. admitting that he missed you or cared more than he let on was still out of the question; he wasn’t ready for that. which is why he found himself in a state of despair.

but it wouldn’t hurt to see you again, he reasoned. after all, he had a sizable cut on his hand from a fierce battle earlier that day—a paper cut from adding more paper to the printer. he blasted his way back to ua high school, his heart pounding for some odd reason.

he rushed up the front steps, frustration barely contained as he shook the door handles, convinced they were just stiff from the cold. as he stepped back, preparing to blast the doors open, he noticed a small sign that read, "winter break has begun—ua is closed." his face fell, disappointment clear in his features.

he completely forgot.

with a muttered string of curses, he turned around, heading back to his agency, his mood darkened by a sense of missed opportunity and lingering irritation.

that same night he nearly looked you up on social media, but decided he was above that–although he had no problems getting purposely ‘injured’ just to see you again. he decided that he needed to talk to you in person. he was not gonna message you on social media like some extra. 

though it was painful to admit, bakugou decided midoriya was his best bet for advice, you two were colleagues after all. the two had gone through a rough patch during middle school and their first year of high school, but they’d grown closer after the war. their relationship was like that of brothers, marked by teasing and occasional verbal jabs. and just as midoriya had influenced bakugou, bakugou had also rubbed off on midoriya.

“holy shit, just admit it! admit you like her,” midoriya whisper-yelled, his voice trembling with exasperation as he buried his head in his hands. he’d spent the past hour trying to break through bakugou’s walls, desperately attempting to get his childhood best friend to confess his obvious feelings for you.

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” bakugou replied with a dismissive shrug, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back in his chair. he crossed his arms over his chest, feigning indifference, but his heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his chest. the muscles in his jaw tensed as he tried to maintain his composure, but even he could feel the cracks forming in his facade.

midoriya looked up, frustration evident in his furrowed brow. “you’ve got to be kidding me, katsuki. you dragged me out here to talk about her. it’s written all over your damn face.”

bakugou’s eyes flickered with irritation as he let out a low growl, his voice rising slightly in response to midoriya’s persistence. “seriously, what’s your deal with this lovey-dovey crap?” he snapped, leaning forward so forcefully that the chair creaked under the pressure.

“i came here to hang out, not to spill my guts about feelings, and the only thing written on my face is— ”he paused for dramatic effect, pointing to his left cheek,“—number,” he pointed to his right cheek, as if marking the spot. “—one!” his voice rose in defiant emphasis, though the strained expression on his face revealed just how much he was trying to keep his composure.

midoriya’s gaze sharpened, a mix of irritation and amusement dancing in his eyes. but before he could respond, bakugou cut him off sharply.

“i also didn’t drag you anywhere!” bakugou snapped, his voice cracking slightly as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “you came here on your own.”

“so—” midoriya began, but bakugou was already back on the defensive.

“but if you’re so damn desperate to talk about her, then go ahead. i won’t stop you” bakugou interrupted, his voice laced with challenge as he glared at midoriya.

midoriya couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re impossible, you know that? you’re just making it more obvious that you care.”

bakugou’s expression suddenly shifted. He stared at his friend, frustration and resignation mixing in his eyes, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he’d finally decided to let his guard down. “damn it, fine,” he muttered, the words coming out in a mix of defeat and reluctant honesty. “i thought it was just her quirk at first—you know how it works, right? you had that old lady’s lips on you all the time. figured i was just feeling awkward from the situation.”

midoriya’s eyes widened in surprise. “wait, her quirk—”

“hold on, i’m not done,” bakugou snapped, cutting him off abruptly. “after that, she started taking care of me without using her quirk. like, really looking out for me, making sure i was okay. that’s when i figured out it wasn’t just her damn power messing with my head. it’s her. it’s the way she talks, the way she looks at me, the way she gives a damn about people. the more we talked over the past two weeks, the more i realized…i actually give a shit.”

midoriya’s mouth opened, but he was interrupted by both of their phones buzzing with an urgent alert. they both glanced at their screens, and midoriya’s expression shifted to one of concern.

“shit,” bakugou muttered, grabbing his jacket. “they need all pros in the area.”

midoriya nodded, his face set in determination. “we’ve gotta go. now.”

“yeah,” bakugou agreed, already heading for the door. “we’ll talk later.”

they both slammed some cash down onto the table before rushing out of the café, the urgency of the situation taking over. bakugou's thoughts about you and the emotional revelations would have to wait; their immediate priority was to respond to the villain attack and protect the city.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

bakugou limped through the bustling emergency room, his face twisted in pain and frustration. he tried to ignore the nagging sense of vulnerability that came with his injuries. that stupid villain had managed to pull a fast one on him, landing a nasty hit before bakugou practically blew him to bits.

midoriya, being his usual self, had quickly suggested that the best treatment for bakugou’s injuries was at the very hospital where you volunteered, an effort to have you guys see each other again. normally, bakugou would have avoided causing a scene in a hospital, preferring to get patched up at his agency instead. however, midoriya’s persistence and his offer to handle all the paperwork made it difficult for bakugou to refuse.

he sighed as he let kaminari, sero, and kirishima come along with him, clearly annoyed but determined not to let midoriya’s plan fall through. as he trudged along.

the chaotic hustle and bustle of the emergency room was in full swing, a symphony of beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, and urgent conversations. nurses and doctors moved briskly, attending to patients with practiced efficiency. bakugou’s irritation only grew as he was directed to sit and wait for some doctor anderson. 

“i’ll wait,” bakugou growled, clenching his jaw. “i want the best of the best. that means ms. y/l/n.”

the medical staff exchanged uncertain glances, trying to balance their duties with the stubborn hero’s demands. “she’s just a volunteer here, and she already has quite the list,” one of the doctors said, attempting to reason with him. “we really need to—”

bakugou’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “you questioning me?!” he snarled, his voice thundering through the corridor, shaking the air with its intensity. the staff, taken aback by his explosive temper, quickly scrambled to comply, knowing better than to argue with him. 

with a flurry of activity, they stabilized bakugou’s injuries as best as they could under the circumstances. the urgency in their movements betrayed their anxiety over his demands, but they managed to prepare him for your arrival.

∘₊ ────── ₊ ∘ ♡︎ ∘ ₊────── ₊∘

you moved quickly through the halls of the hospital, your heart racing as you had just received word that pro hero dynamite had just been admitted, and had demanded you to be the one to help him. you had a aching feeling that it wasn't for another scape. you spotted a group of familiar faces clustered together just outside bakugou's room. kirishima, kaminari, and sero were chatting animatedly, their conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter and occasional glances toward the door which gave you a small sense of relief.

“seriously, this is just karma,” kaminari said with a thoughtful frown, peering up at the ceiling as if searching for divine answers. “he was coming to recovery girl for every little scrape, it was so obvious he was trying to get an excuse to see her.”

“yeah,” sero chimed in with a smirk, “ bet you he was milking those tiny injuries just to get a little attention from her.”

kirishima laughed, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “he probably thought if he kept getting those little nicks and bruises, he’d get a chance to talk to her more. pretty clever, but also so very unmanly.”

their laughter and commentary were a strange mix of sympathy and light-hearted teasing. you found yourself frozen in place, hiding just out of sight as you overheard their conversation. the realization hit you hard—bakugou’s frequent visits and seemingly pointless injuries had been his way of getting close to you.

swallowing hard, you took a deep breath before making your way toward bakugou's room. you quickly greeted the pro heroes offering polite nods before pushing through the door. your hands began to sweat, nerves getting the better of you as you creaked the door open.

inside, you let out a sigh of relief mixed with concern. his condition wasn't as dire as you’d feared, but it wasn’t exactly good either. instead of the usual tiny cuts and small bruises you were accustomed to, bakugou had a deep, painful-looking gash on his side. it looked serious, though you could tell he was trying to downplay it.

he turned his head slowly toward you, his eyes barely open but trying to focus. his usual fiery glare was subdued, replaced by an almost vulnerable expression. “hello, dynamite,” you greeted him gently, a playful hint in your voice despite the situation. “thought i told you to be careful.”

bakugou's lips twitched into a weak, smile. “told me not to get any small ones, think i listened pretty well,” he joked, though his voice was strained.

you gave him a small smile, but it quickly faded as you noticed his vitals starting to waver on the monitor beside him. the steady beep of the heart rate was becoming irregular, and your concern spiked.

without hesitation, you activated your quirk, letting your hand hover over the deep cut on his side. the air seemed to crackle with energy as you focused intently, channeling your power to heal the wound. bakugou watched you with growing shock, his eyes widening as the extent of your quirk became apparent.

as you worked, you kept your focus on the healing process, determined to stabilize him. his expression of surprise and awe. despite the situation, you felt a pang of satisfaction seeing the wound slowly mend under your touch.

the room was filled with the quiet hum of medical equipment and the occasional murmurs from the pro heroes outside. you could feel the weight of the room’s concern, but you pushed through, driven by the need to get bakugou patched up.

finally, after a few tense moments, the monitor’s beeping steadied and bakugou’s breathing became more even. you pulled your hand away, your energy slightly drained but relieved that the worst was over for now.

bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and despite the pain, there was something almost tender in his eyes. “thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

you offered him an awkward smile. “just doing my job.”

the two of you sat in an awkward silence, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him while you stared at the sheets. you got up, slowly preparing to say goodbye.

“so... your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s, huh?” bakugou blinked slowly at you, his tone a mix of curiosity and irritation.

you nodded, your expression growing more serious. “yeah, it’s not.”

bakugou’s expression hardened, his voice sharp. “why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“didn’t think i’d have to see you again,” you admitted, frustration creeping into your voice. “and you’re not exactly the saint you pretend to be, either,” you added, your face flushing as you turned towards the window.

bakugou’s eyes widened in surprise, his face turning slightly pink. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you kept coming to me with those tiny scratches. you never really needed my help; you just wanted an excuse to see me.”

“are you out of your damn mind?!” bakugou roared, his face flushing deeper with anger. “i was using my resources to stay in top shape, alright? nothing more, nothing less!”

“top shape—who the hell talks like that?!” now you were a dark shade of crimson, your face blazing as the argument escalated. “bakugou, just admit it already!”

“there’s nothing to admit! how about you admit you were just waiting for an excuse to kiss me, you perv?!” bakugou’s voice rose, his face now a deeper red, frustration clear in his eyes.

“what?! don’t try to twist this around on me, you little shit! you’re the one who kept stopping by for the most ridiculous reasons—half the time, i didn’t even see anything wrong!” you shot back, your anger matching his.

“and yet you still acted like you wanted to kiss me, you damn freak!” bakugou’s face was now a deep shade of red, his embarrassment and anger mixing in equal measure.

“what?! i’m not a freak! you’re the freak! you just barged into my office and pointed at your cheek. who assumes something like that? if anything, you’re the perv for thinking healers just go around kissing people!” you exclaimed, your frustration peaking.

“that shitty little short circuit said you were the new recovery girl??” bakugou snapped, his patience wearing thin.

“i am? doesn’t mean i have the same quirk,” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly.

“well, you should’ve just said that’s not how your quirk works from the start!” bakugou growled, his tone defensive, his face still flushed.

“and you wouldn’t have blown me to bits. you were so damn confident when you just pointed at that tiny little scratch! i was just trying to protect myself!” you said, your voice rising in frustration as you turned away from him.

“oh, you’re really pushing it—” bakugou began, his anger barely contained, but he was cut off by kirishima barging into the room.

“sorry, but you’re both being unmanly right now.”

“stay out of this!” you both yelled, turning to the pro. he simply sighed and walked out, shaking his head and muttering about how things were just getting more unmanly by the minute.

there was a long pause as both of you sat in the silence, the weight of the room’s emotions settling around you. the air felt thick, charged with the intensity of the argument and the vulnerability that had emerged. bakugou’s gaze softened as he looked at you, the anger in his eyes giving way to something more introspective. his shoulders relaxed, and his voice took on a quieter, more tentative tone. “didn’t really need your help then,” he said, the words laced with an awkward honesty that caught you off guard.

“i know,” you replied taking a seat at the edge of his bed, your own embarrassment matching his. you took a deep breath, feeling the fight drain from you as the truth settled between you. the tension in the room shifted, morphing from anger to something more fragile and uncertain.

another moment of silence stretched between you, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. 

“bakugou,” you started softly, searching for the right words. your breath caught in your throat as you looked at him. “i like you,” you confessed, the words slipping out with a mix of shyness and sincerity.

bakugou’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he quickly masked it with his trademark scowl. “had a feeling,” he grumbled, his tone a blend of annoyance and something softer beneath. “took you long enough to admit it.”

before he could react further, you reached out and gave him a playful yet firm slap on the arm. your face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. “what was that for?” bakugou exclaimed, rubbing the spot where you’d hit him, his expression a mix of genuine confusion and mild irritation.

“don’t act all smug,” you shot back, your voice laced with indignation. you’d just confessed your feelings, and instead of offering a heartfelt response, the idiot in front of you had simply said he knew. it was like he didn’t even grasp the weight of what you’d said.

bakugou’s scowl faltered as he looked at you with an unusual hint of vulnerability. his gaze dropped to the floor, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed his features. it was clear he was struggling; he wasn’t used to expressing his feelings or dealing with someone else’s, and it showed.

when he finally looked back up, his expression was serious, but you noticed a rare softness in his eyes. “alright,” he said, his voice low and gruff but edged with an awkward sincerity that seemed out of character for him. “i like you too. a lot. more than i probably should.”

as you both sat there, basking in the newfound honesty between you, the tension began to melt away. bakugou let out a deep breath, and you could see the muscles in his shoulders relax. a comfortable silence settled in, and the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you enjoying each other’s company. for now, there was no need to rush or worry about what came next. you simply savored the moment, feeling a deep sense of connection and contentment.

after a few moments, bakugou shifted slightly, a small, thoughtful look crossing his face. he wasn’t sure if it was the pain meds or the weight of your confession, but he was starting to feel a bit bolder than he had been. breaking the comfortable silence, he turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “ya know,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of his usual gruffness, “i’m still in a lot of pain.” he paused, watching you, as if he was testing the waters for your reaction.

you looked at him, puzzled. “what are you getting at?”

“well, we don’t know for sure if your quirk isn’t like recovery girl’s,” he said, leaning in slightly. “ worked pretty well last time.”

you tilted your head, catching on to his subtle hint. “oh, so you’re suggesting that my quirk might work better if i used it the way recovery girl does? you know, with a bit more—” you paused for dramatic effect, “—personal touch?”

a soft smile spread across his face, his gaze locking onto yours. “something like that.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “well, if that’s the case, i’d better go check on your friends then. they might need some help too, after all.”

before you could move, bakugou’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. his eyes softened slightly, a mix of playfulness and sincerity in his gaze. “hey, don’t be a smartass,” he said, pulling you closer. “just... stay here for a minute.”

your heart skipped a beat as you were drawn into his personal space. you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. his expression was earnest now, the playful facade giving way to something more genuine.

“bakugou?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” he replied, his tone softening as he leaned in slightly.

you could feel the tension between you, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. his gaze was fixed on your lips, his intention clear even if unspoken. the moment hung in the air, charged with the possibility of a kiss.

finally, with a playful smirk, you tilted your head and teased, “i suppose if you’re still in pain, i should take care of that.”

before you could react, bakugou closed the distance between you. his lips brushed against yours in a warm, gentle kiss. it was soft and sweet, carrying a surprising tenderness that left both of you breathless. the kiss was fleeting but filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. as he pulled away, his smirk was replaced by a genuine, tender look. his eyes searched yours, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted with his usual fiery demeanor.

you blinked, still processing the kiss. with a shy smile, you asked, “feel better?”

he quickly buried his face in the side of your neck, causing you to giggle. "yeah," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. you could feel him slowly start to smile against your skin, "better."

ੈ✩‧₊˚ tagslist: @kirikiss @ah-mya @terralupa @purplebirdds @semiji ᐢᗜᐢ

♡ a/n: haha ember refusing to die? yk whos embers died… also haha reach out????! also sorry for the ooc at the end. i just needed that no lie... :D also part of me wants to do a part 3?? but just a bunch of random drabbles of you both getting together and your relationship 🤗

꩜ fr a/n: THANK YOU GUYS SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY RECENT POSTS LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS AMAZING <3 LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH! I PUMPPPPED THIS CHAPTER OUT AS MY WAY OF SAYING THANK YOU ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! i was wondering if you’d write poly!marauders x reader with some angst? maybe they’ve had an argument (they say something really hurtful to her) and reader wants to be left alone and they assume that she wants to break up w them? maybe some begging/pleading on their side pls

totally okay if you don’t want to write this<3 have a lovely day ml 🫶🏽

Hi sweetheart! Thanks for requesting and hope you're having a lovely day too :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

It had started laughably small. Tensions had to have been high for awhile, you must just not have been able to see it, because you were all so ready to go off. Sirius had remarked that you’d left the living room a mess. You’d shot back that if he’d offered to make dinner, you might’ve had time to tidy. It had devolved into an argument about why you were so busy in the first place, even though he knew you’d been absolutely mobbed at work lately. You’d been getting more and more piled onto your plate, and you weren’t sure whether the higher-ups were testing you to see about giving you a promotion (or, Merlin forbid, firing you) or whether it was just a busy time of the year, but it didn’t matter because you loved your job and you’d do whatever it took to keep it. It didn’t matter to Sirius, either, apparently; what mattered was that you’d been spending more time at work, and when you weren’t there, you took your work home, always bent over your laptop instead of spending time with your boyfriends. 

When Remus and James tried to smooth things over, they only ended up getting dragged in too, and soon you were fighting about whether you should tell your bosses you couldn’t handle your workload (you’d rather cut off your left foot) and how they didn’t understand how important this was to you (they claimed they did) and that you were prioritizing work over your relationship and that they were needy for making you choose like that, and on and on with voices rising and tensions heightening until Sirius all but yelled, “I don’t care what happens to you at work, you shouldn’t want that more than you want us!”

You’d gone quiet. Everyone had. Remus and James seemed to know that he’d crossed a line with you, but they didn’t correct him. Their silence was clear enough: they agreed. 

Your body couldn’t decide between anger and anguish, and you’d worried that if you kept going, you’d scream at them. So you’d just said, “I can’t do this,” and left. 

You’ve been walking around for over an hour now. Aimless circles around your neighborhood and the surrounding streets. Lamplights are flickering on as twilight turns to darkness, the nighttime breeze cooling the teartracks on your cheeks. You keep turning the whole thing over in your head, but you can’t stop fixating on the last thing Sirius said and the other boys’ wordless agreement. Selfishly, it’s the first part that troubles you most: I don’t care what happens to you at work. Your work is endlessly important to you. Before you met the boys, it was nearly the only thing you were living for. You’d put years into school and menial, boring jobs to get the one you have now. You love what you do. Do they not understand that about you? You don’t get how they can claim to care about you, and not care about this thing that is at the core of who you are. 

Then there’s the second part. You shouldn’t want that more than you want us. As a statement, it’s true. But the implication is dead wrong. Because you don’t care more for your job than you do them. If you had to lose one or the other, you’d give up your job in a heartbeat. But as far as you know, you’re only at risk of losing one right now, so why can’t your boyfriends just sit tight for a couple weeks while you fight to keep it?

You’re hurting for yourself and for them, because how could they think that you don’t care about them? You feel like your heart is being cleaved in two.

When you arrive back at your apartment, you still don’t know what to do, but you feel calmer. You don’t really expect anyone else to have cooled down—Sirius especially, whose anger ignites quickly and takes time to burn out—and you don’t particularly want to keep arguing, but you will, until you all see each other more clearly. You’re ready to explain yourself better, to soothe and smooth over whatever you can. 

But when you open the door, the silence startles you. It’s like someone has sucked the air from your apartment, the atmosphere stale and morose.

James turns from where he’s sitting on the couch, eyes widening. “You’re back.” 

Remus appears, sitting up from where he’d been lying next to James, and Sirius emerges from your bedroom. Each of their eyes look as red as yours probably do, and the sight makes your heart feel heavy in your chest. 

“Y/N,” Sirius says, and it’s not so much the croakiness of his voice as the fact that he’s not trying to hide it that raises alarms with you, “I’m sorry. I went too far, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” 

“It’s okay,” you say without thinking, even though it hadn’t felt okay at the time. You’ll say anything to get him to snap out of whatever this is, the misery in his eyes unfamiliar and terrifying. 

“We shouldn’t have asked you to choose between us and your work,” Remus says, his features tight with something that looks like grief. “Do what you need to, just stay here with us, please.” 

You hesitate, feeling like there’s something you’ve missed. You hadn’t been gone too long, had you? Had they been worried you’d been hurt or something?

Before you can ask, James reaches out a hand to you over the top of the couch, and you step forward to take it, giving him a reassuring squeeze as his eyes well with tears. “We love you so much,” he says, uncharacteristically quiet, and you feel like someone has plunged a knife into your middle and twisted. “It’d feel so stupid to break up over the living room being messy. Let’s just talk this over, yeah?”

Your hand goes limp in his. “Break up?”

You get only blank looks in reply. 

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“Wh—dovey, no,” Remus sputters. “But aren’t…we thought you were breaking up with us. Weren’t you?”

“Of course not!” You press a hand to your chest, just to make sure your heart’s still going in there. “I was upset, but not…I was never going to leave you over it.”

“You said you couldn’t do this anymore,” Sirius says, almost disbelieving. 

“I meant the argument, not our relationship.” 

“Oh, fuck.” James throws his head back on the couch cushions with a relieved exhale. “So we’re all still together, just in a fight?”

“Just in a fight,” you agree, and you’ve never been happier to admit to conflict. You start towards Sirius, throwing your arms around his neck, and you can feel his shock as he stiffens, then brings his hands to your back. “I’m sorry too,” you say, letting go after a moment and turning so you can see all of your boys. “I didn’t mean to make you all feel like you weren’t important to me. I just wanted you to understand that my job is important to me, too. And I’m getting really scared that if I can’t keep up, I could lose it.” 

“Sweetheart.” James beckons, and you go into his arms, settling in. These are the kinds of arguments you like best; the ones where you all listen to each other, working towards a solution as people who love each other instead of opponents. “We don’t want you to lose your job either.”

“I don’t think this busy season will last much longer,” you say earnestly. “And if it does, I promise I’ll talk to someone and try to get a lighter workload. Do you guys think that you could give me a couple more weeks? I’ll try to be around more, but I just want…it’s important to me to be sure I’m going to be able to keep my job.”

Sirius huffs, going to sit in the chair across from you. “Well, it sounds so fucking rational when you put it like that.” He cracks a smile, and you return it hesitantly. “Yeah, I think I can manage a couple weeks. What about you guys?”

Remus hums his assent, and James nods eagerly, clearly ready to be done with the conflict portion of the evening. 

“Sorry I scared you,” you say, guilt still a dull ache in your chest. You kiss James’ cheek, and the skin there tastes faintly salty, but a dimple forms as he smiles at you. “I’m not going to break up with you guys, ever, but I swear that if I’m ever thinking about it, I’ll be more explicit.”

[clearexpertarcade]

The Freshman Fifteen

Matt stood in front of the mirror, shirtless, his eyes fixated on his reflection. The soft roundness of his stomach caught the light, highlighting just how much his body had changed in a few short months. He used to have abs, firm and defined, but now… now, there was just this belly, sticking out and refusing to be ignored.

His roommate Aaron was sprawled across the bed, casually scrolling through his phone. "Dude, you can stare at it all day, but it’s not gonna shrink just by looking at it," Aaron teased without even glancing up.

Matt didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up the measuring tape sitting on the desk. He hadn’t used it since high school when he was proud of his lean 32-inch waist. With a sigh, he wrapped the tape around his middle, struggling a bit to get it all the way around without letting his stomach push out. He sucked in his gut as far as it would go.

For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of hope—maybe the number wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe he hadn’t let himself go that much.

Aaron looked over, chuckling. "You really gonna suck it in while you measure? That’s cheating."

Matt rolled his eyes but kept holding his breath, his muscles tight as he fastened the tape around his waist. He squinted at the number, and his heart sank a little. Thirty-six inches.

"Thirty-six…" Matt muttered under his breath, releasing his stomach. The tape measure immediately shifted with a snap, loosening as his belly filled the space it was trying to hide. He looked down at it, and the final number stared back at him: thirty-eight.

Aaron let out a low whistle. "Oof. Freshman Fifteen turned into Freshman Twenty, huh?"

Matt’s face flushed. He looked at his reflection again, watching the way his gut pushed out over the waistband of his sweatpants. Thirty-eight inches. His abs weren’t just hidden; they were gone, buried under this new layer of softness.

"Shut up, man," Matt muttered, dropping the measuring tape onto the desk. He tried to suck in his belly again, holding his breath like it would somehow make everything go back to normal. For a second, his stomach pulled tight, flattening slightly, but then, just like every other time, the moment he relaxed, it pushed right back out. The jiggle in his belly made him wince.

Aaron swung his legs off the bed, clearly enjoying the show. "Dude, you’re killing yourself trying to suck that in. Just let it out. No one cares."

Matt sighed, staring at the thirty-eight-inch mark still lingering in his mind. He gave up trying to suck in, his belly settling comfortably over his waistband, the jiggle now undeniable. He felt the weight of it more than ever. He couldn’t believe how far he’d let himself go.

"Thirty-eight inches," Matt repeated softly, almost in disbelief. "I was thirty-two before college."

Aaron shrugged. "Hey, it happens to the best of us. College life, man. All those late-night burritos and no more gym sessions? That stuff adds up."

Matt rubbed a hand over his belly, feeling its softness. He hadn’t touched his abs in months. He hadn’t even tried to work out since football ended. He used to be proud of his body, but now… now, this belly was all he could think about.

"I guess," Matt mumbled, but it didn’t feel like enough of an excuse. He grabbed a shirt and pulled it over his head, feeling it stretch tightly over his middle. It clung uncomfortably to his body, emphasizing every roll. He tugged at the fabric, trying to pull it down to cover the slight overhang, but it didn’t do much to help.

Aaron stood up, clapping Matt on the back. "Come on, man. Don’t sweat it. We’re ordering pizza tonight, right? I’ll get extra cheese, just for you."

Matt chuckled despite himself. He looked one last time at the mirror, accepting that his stomach wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He wasn’t happy about it, but he couldn’t deny that there was something almost freeing in letting it out, in not caring so much for once.

"Yeah," Matt said, turning away from the mirror. "Let’s get pizza."

As they headed out of the room, Matt could still feel the measuring tape’s numbers lingering in his mind, but for now, he was letting it go. Maybe he’d deal with it tomorrow… but tonight, it was all about extra cheese and not caring if his shirt was a little too tight.

[vivalas-vega]

late / jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

hiii - feels like a long time since I've actually posted anything. this fic idea came to me kind of randomly - I've been seeing a lot of fics lately centered around making/having babies and I thought it'd be nice to write something angsty and fluffy catered to those of us who are childless and want to remain that way lol - as always, lmk what you think!

late / jake 'hangman' seresin x reader

word count: 3.5k

I do not have a taglist - if you'd like to be notified of future works please follow @vegaslibrary and turn on post notifications

warnings: mentions of periods, hints at termination (not said explicitly but it's there), talk of kids/pregnancy, angst and fluff !!

You shut the dishwasher before continuing to move about the kitchen as you cleaned up from dinner, one you would say was one of your best if you were going to toot your own horn, and your sights were set on the freezer for a little ice cream to go along with your movie before bed. You thought you should hold out, you’d left an invite open to your boyfriend to come here after his plans, but you decided against it. Ben and Jerry’s waits for no one.

You set it out to soften for a minute, pulling your planner from your bag to skim through your plans for the next day to make sure all your ducks were in a row and you were about to close it when you fixated on the date. “There’s no way,” you muttered to yourself, genuinely baffled by how far into the month you were. Your brow furrowed as you tried to comb through your memory but things had been so busy lately you were falling short so you switched to your phone and tapped on the pink app icon, eyes widening as you realized your first thought was true.

“No, no, no,” you sighed, walking to the bathroom with a quicker pace than normal and dropping down to look beneath your sink. “Don’t be expired,” you pleaded. To whom you were pleading you had no idea, but you breathed out a sigh of relief when the tiny text on the box confirmed you still had a while to use them. 

You checked the app again, scrolling back through the month and confirming what you’d hoped you’d misinterpreted the first time… but you hadn’t, you were in fact late. Ten days late. You had always considered yourself quite lucky, your period ran like a well oiled machine and your cycle was always twenty-nine days on the dot. Every so often you’d fluctuate, but only by a day, and for that you were grateful. You were always prepared, and you always knew if you ever fluctuated by more than a day it was cause for concern…

Ten days was more than cause for concern in your book, frankly as you stared at the test you thought you didn’t even really need to take it. You only kept them on hand because you were known for missing a pill here and there and you’d rather have to run to your bathroom in a panic than to your closest mini-mart, but you’d never truly had a scare before. You always assumed they’d expire before you got to use them. Oh, how wrong you were. 

Pregnancy was never on the docket for you. You knew from a young age you had no interest and frankly it scared you more than anything. You knew it was reckless not to switch to a more effective birth control, one that was foolproof and long-lasting but the pill you’d been on since high school hadn’t failed you yet so you’d put it off despite the fact that it had been on your to-do list. Right about now you were wishing you’d just booked the appointment and gotten it over with. 

You did the only thing you really knew to do at this moment and fired off a text to Natasha, your best friend for almost two decades. All it read was three simple numbers: 911. 

You heaved a sigh as you ran your fingers through your hair and chastised yourself for being so flippant. You knew you didn’t want this, and you knew the pill wasn’t perfect, especially not when you missed at least one per pack. Really, you’d just gotten lucky your whole adult life, and the fact that this hadn’t happened sooner was beginning to feel like a miracle as you really let the situation wash over you. You were broken from your thoughts by the sound of your phone vibrating harshly against the tile and you answered it before it even got through its first ring.

“What’s going on?” Natasha asked in lieu of a hello. This was one of the many reasons you loved her and why she was still your best friend after all this time. Unless she was in the air or on the other side of the world, a 911 text was responded to in the form of a call in five minutes or less. You also decided to forgo a greeting and simply held up the box and her eyes widened, “no, are you serious?” 

“Unfortunately,” you sighed and she considered her next question carefully.

“Have you taken one yet?” You shook your head. “Okay, so it’s just a suspicion, maybe there’s not even anything to worry about.” 

“Ten days, Nat,” you replied.

“Oh shit,” was all she said for a moment. “Hey, you’ve been eerily regular your entire life, maybe your uterus taking a hard earned break,” she tried and you chuckled at the attempt to lighten the situation with humor. 

“Or maybe it’s growing a person,” you said and she rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t even taken it, you can’t get all doom and gloom yet. Have you talked to Jake?” 

“Should I?” you shot back and she just gave you a deadpan look through the screen.

“Should you talk to your boyfriend, the one who may or may not have impregnated you, about the fact that he may or may not have impregnated you?” she asked rhetorically. 

“I just… it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere if it’s positive,” you sighed. “We haven’t talked about it, Nat. He doesn’t know how I feel and I have a feeling it’s going to ruin everything.” 

“How could you know that if you haven’t talked about it?” she replied with that face that told you she knew she was right, because she always was, not that you’d tell her that. “If this was some random hookup I’d say absolutely don’t talk to them about it, but this is Jake… you guys are getting serious and I think you’ll feel better if you do.” 

“That’s the thing, we’re getting serious. This is still so new, what if I lose him as soon as I tell him ‘yeah if you stay with me you’ll never have a family’?” 

“First of all, I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this but definitely don’t say it like that. Second of all, if you lose him because your goals for the future don’t align then he was never really yours to begin with. It just means your person is still out there and so is his.” 

“I know that was meant to be comforting but the thought of him having a person out there that isn’t me is making me nauseous.” 

“Sure it’s not morning sickness?” she teased and you scowled at your phone screen. 

“I’m serious, Nat… I know it’s early and we’re just starting to settle into a groove but I feel like he’s it, you know?”

“No, I really don’t know how my beautiful and smart best friend winds up being it for Hangman, but you know I love and support you and all your choices… including whatever you decide to do if the test is positive. At the end of the day the final say is yours, but I think you should at least include him in the conversation.” 

“I know, I just… shit,” you were cut off by the sound of your front door and Jake’s voice letting you know it was him. “I completely forgot he was coming over.”

“Talk to him, even if it doesn’t go well it’s better to know now, it’ll only hurt worse later… and for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’ll be whatever worst case scenario you’ve concocted,” she said before you hung up and Jake was just walking into to bedroom as you exited the bathroom.

“Hey, there you are sweetheart,” he said with that famous smirk of his that was now only reserved for you. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips that you easily reciprocated, “you on the phone?” 

“I was, with Nat,” you answered and he chuckled.

“Swear you two can’t go four hours without checking in. I have no idea how you make it through deployments.” He’d tease but he loved how close you were, if you weren’t he’d never have met you. You would have never been dragged into the Hard Deck and he’d never have the opportunity to spend two long months trying to win you over. She’d swear until her dying breath it had been the opposite of her intentions, but Jake would always consider himself indebted to Natasha for bringing you into his life.

“Yeah well, she had to tell me all about your epic failure at the pool table,” you said and he laughed. It absolutely had not been the topic of your call, but you were glad she had been texting you about your boyfriend’s terrible game against Bradley as it was happening so you had something to say while you worked up the nerve to tell him what you were really talking about. 

“Okay, it was not an epic failure,” he said as he pulled his spare clothes from your dresser and began working on the buttons of his khakis, “but if it was, it was only because I didn’t have my good luck charm.” 

“She said you’d use some cop out like that,” you replied and he playfully rolled his eyes. He quickly pulled on his sweats and became acutely aware of how you hadn’t moved an inch since he arrived, and the way you were picking at a hangnail on your thumb. Normally, you’d have already jumped into bed and launched into a rundown of everything that happened during the day but you were silent, unmoving, and about to hit bone on your thumb. 

“Everything okay?” he asked as he shrugged his shirt on and you nodded, suddenly realizing how off you were being as well. 

“Just a long day at work,” you answered, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and you should have known he’d see right through you. He always did, even before you were officially together. Jake had learned you and all your cues in record time and nothing got under his skin more than when you tried to pretend he hadn’t… like you were right now. 

“Wanna try that again?” He sat beside you and put a reassuring hand on your thigh, and the simple action had you letting out a sigh. 

“I’m late,” you said and Jake just nodded. Most men would have asked late for what? but as you’d learned over the past several months, Jake wasn’t most men and he didn’t need to prod to realize what you meant, especially when you were this visibly anxious.

“Okay, have you taken a test yet? Do we need to go get one?” He kept his tone even and measured, not wanting to add any more stress onto your plate.

You shook your head, “there’s one in the bathroom,” you answered. He hated the way you were avoiding his eyes and the way you hadn’t stopped picking at your hands.

“Let’s take the test so we know exactly what we’re dealing with, and then regardless of the result we’ll sit right here and talk it all out… how does that sound?” he asked and you smiled softly but it didn’t reach your eyes. He was always proactive, any time something came up he immediately sought out a solution and you weren’t at all surprised this was his response.

“I think that sounds good,” you said as you stood, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here,” he replied and you knew from the look in his eyes he meant that in more ways than one. Seeing you stressed or overwhelmed wasn’t new for him, but this was something else entirely… normally you’d be frazzled over something work related and you’d vent to him and snap back to normal but you were completely withdrawn. He knew you were scared, frankly he was a little scared too, but he was suddenly worried he hadn’t made his feelings clear enough. There really wasn’t anything you could do at this point to send him running, and especially not this; he desperately wanted to know what was nagging at you so he could reassure it away.

You returned from the bathroom and took up your previous spot beside him, stick in hand, “two minutes.” you said softly and he leaned over to press a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, whatever it is we’ll figure it out. Everything will be okay,” he said and you nodded but he could tell his words just rolled right off you, not sticking in the slightest. He thought it’d be best to stay silent while you waited, he’d be able to get to the root of it once you both knew exactly what was going on.

The timer on your phone startled you and you silenced it as you took a deep breath. Jake slid his hand through your free one and intertwined your fingers, squeezing reassuringly as you flipped the test over. Negative. You exhaled in relief and dropped your head against his shoulder and he quickly lifted his arm to pull you into his chest. Emotion tugged at you despite how you tried to keep it at arm's length, and eventually you succumbed to the tears trying to break free.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay,” Jake whispered, kissing the top of your head and drawing soothing patterns along your back. He continued to talk, low reassurances that weren’t quite registering but the tenor of his voice eventually calmed you down and when the emotions finally ran their course he hooked a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. “Talk to me, what had you so worried?” he asked gently, wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

You considered your options: you could say you were just terrified by an unplanned pregnancy and push past it, or you could do what you knew you needed to and be honest despite the fact you were somehow convinced it’d bring the end of your relationship. “I don’t want kids,” you blurted out and he was nearly as surprised by the sudden confession as you were.

“I- I never have, I… never envisioned that life for myself and I’ve never felt that thing people feel that makes them want kids. I know I’m like… broken or something, I know it literally goes against my biological nature to not want kids, I just don’t and I know that can be a deal breaker so I understand if you don’t want to stay-"

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he interrupted, his tone still gentle but not as soft as it had been earlier. “You are not broken. It’s perfectly normal to not want kids and you don’t need to justify that, to me or anyone else. This isn’t a deal breaker, sweetheart, I’m pretty convinced nothing is at this point,” he said and this reassured you slightly, loosened the knot in your stomach slightly.

“You don’t want kids?” you asked, your voice still timid and small. You didn’t want to ask but you needed to know, this was your one shot to get everything out in the open and make sure you were on the same page.

He thought carefully for a moment before answering. “I honestly haven’t given it a lot of thought. My life is so up in the air, literally and figuratively, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to picture slowing down enough to factor kids in. That’s not to say I’ve never wanted them, but I’ve never been attached to the idea.”

“Is it disappointing to know that if you stay with me you’ll never have that option? I don’t want you to have regrets or end up resenting me because I never gave you a family.” Jake’s heart cracked at the look on your face and the emotion thinly veiled in your eyes. In the back of his mind he knew this was coming from somewhere specific… At some point someone had made you feel like you were broken, had either said or made you feel like a life with you wouldn’t be enough without kids and he hated that. He hated that right now it seemed like you were just waiting for him to echo the sentiment and leave you stranded. 

“Sweetheart, if that test had been positive and you wanted to keep it I’d be thrilled to start a family with you, just as thrilled as I am to build a life just the two of us. I don’t love you because of your ability to provide me with a hypothetical family… I love you because you’re you, that’s always going to be enough for me.” Your breathing hitched as you processed his words, you literally felt the weight lift off your chest at the reassurance he really wasn’t going anywhere and it gave your heart the room to thud wildly against your rib cage.

“You love me?” you asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips and his eyes widened. In the heat of the moment he hadn’t realized what he’d confessed and he felt himself flush.

“Yeah, I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it just now, or so soon- I do love you but this night has been emotionally overwhelming enough, please don’t feel like you have-“ he was rambling, and you were having a hard time keeping your enjoyment in check. 

Jake was a confident and assured man, it’s part of what drew you to him at first, but now he was a stumbling mess with crimson cheeks because he’d just confessed he loved you and you were sure he’d never been more attractive to you. Not when he sidled up beside you and bought every drink you ordered every time you were in the Hard Deck with that cocky smirk and those sparkling eyes, not when he boldly flirted with you every time he saw you despite Natasha threatening to have him shot out of the sky, and not when he threw an arm around your shoulder and called you his girlfriend with no real confirmation, he just knew you were his and he was yours. None of those moments of the smooth and charismatic Jake you knew compared to this sweet and bashful one in front of you.

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss, knowing he wouldn’t stop unless you did it for him. He responded instantly and you couldn’t help but giggle as you pulled back. “I love you, too.” you said and in the blink of an eye he regained his confidence, pulling you back into him and kissing you like a man starved. 

“You just made me the happiest man on earth, darlin’,” he said, pecking your lips once more. “A life with you is everything I ever dreamed of. We don’t have to talk about this ever again unless you want to… I just need you to know that I’ll remain the happiest man on earth so long as I’ve got you, no hypothetical children could ever make me regret or resent you.” 

You felt the need to be closer to him and crawled into his lap to wrap around him like a koala, squeezing so tight he let out a strained laugh. “I love you,” you said again as he held you close.

“I love you too, sweetheart… Now what do you say we get some snacks and ice cream and decompress with a movie night?” he asked and your eyes widened as you pulled back, suddenly remembering what you’d left on the counter. 

“My ice cream!” you yelled, disentangling yourself from him and sprinting down the hallway to assess the damage and he trailed behind you chuckling the whole way… he watched you frown as you looked at what had turned into soup and you pulled out your phone, mumbling something about getting it delivered because there was no way you’d go without a sweet treat tonight. He was paying attention, because of course he was, but as he stood leaning against the doorframe looking at you with a lovesick expression on his face he was thinking about the future. 

He saw nights at the bar, you heckling his friends better than he ever could and getting away with it in a way he never did. He saw travel at every opportunity and nights-in just like you were about to have. He saw romantic dinners and fights and nights of endless passion — and maybe he saw a dog down the line. He saw himself putting a big rock on your finger and buying you a house with a porch swing out back because he knew that’s all you really wanted, and it’s there on that swing you’d watch the sun rise and set over the ocean and truly start to grow old together. He saw it all, the good and the bad, in a split second while watching you lean over the kitchen counter, eyes glued to your phone as you scrolled through your options, and he couldn’t help but beam. ‘As if I could ever regret a life with you,’ he thought.

[agaypanic]

former theater kid as well !! maybe a story about regina with a gf in theater club ?

My Little Star (Regina George X Theater Kid!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your girlfriend comes to see you in your last high school show.

A/N: depending on which regina you’re envisioning with this, au where everyone has smartphones. post!mean girls regina bc then i wont feel too bad if she seems too ooc. ive been thinking a lot about romeo and juliet lately so the play is romeo and juliet teehee

***

If you had told your younger self that at the end of your senior year, you’d be the leading star in your final show and be dating Regina George, she would’ve thought you were insane.

Yet here you were, getting ready for the opening night of Romeo and Juliet while your girlfriend spam-texted you words of encouragement.

Regina <3

You’re gonna do so good, I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU!!!

I was gonna keep it a surprise until after the show, but I got your favorite 

*Sent 1 Attachment*

Unlocking your phone to respond, you were greeted with a picture of Regina sitting in the auditorium holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. She had a great big smile on her face, her eyes squinting from it. 

Your breath hitched. You knew Regina loved you, but the picture radiated her feelings of pride for you. It made you want to run out and smother her in affection.

Instead, you texted her back.

You

OMG you’re literally the sweetest Regina!!

I’ll be looking for you in the audience lol

Regina <3

I’m sitting in the very center, so hopefully I’m easy to spot

Especially with this giant ass bouquet

You laughed at the message and soon got a tap on your shoulder from one of your friends, telling you places were in five minutes.

You

I have to go, we’re gonna start soon

But I’ll be looking for you :)) 

You waited until you saw a response from Regina before putting your phone in your bag.

Regina <3

YOU’RE GONNA DO AMAZING

BREAK A LEG <3333

DON’T ACTUALLY BREAK A LEG THO

THAT’D BE BAD

I LOVE YOU!!!

Laughing at her stream of messages, you put your phone away and rushed out to your place. As much as you revel in the fact that you had a leading role, you were already waiting for the show to be over so you could see Regina.

***

If you had to choose one, the death scene was probably your favorite. It was dramatic, which was always fun, and you got to stab yourself with a retractable blade.

“What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand?” You took the empty cup out of Romeo’s, whose real name was Jared, stiff hand, inspecting it. “Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after?” You dropped the cup in distress, wondering what to do. Then your eyes fell on Jared’s lips, and you had a revelation. “I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative.”

You held his face gently in your hands and leaned down to kiss him. Every time you went through a kiss scene with Jared, you pretended it was Regina you were kissing. The passion seemed more authentic that way.

You pulled away, staring down at Jared.

“Thy lips are warm.” You said brokenheartedly. You were just barely too late. If only he had waited a while longer to drink the poison so you’d be awake to stop him.

“Lead, boy: which way?” You heard from offstage. 

“Yea, noise?” You looked toward the direction of the noise’s source in a panic. “Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger!”

You grabbed Romeo’s dagger and raised it to the audience. And that’s when you caught a glimpse of Regina. Despite the room being dark and her being far away, you could feel her excitement as she watched. You had to stop yourself from smiling.

“This is thy sheath,” You say before shoving the dagger into your heart. You gasp a little and look up. To the audience, you could’ve been looking up to the heavens in your last moments. But you were doing your best to stare into Regina’s eyes that were fixated on you. “There rust, and let me die.”

With that, you fell on top of Jared’s body, doing your best not to crush him as you ‘died.’

The scene continued from there, and you did your best not to move. Your back was killing you from the long show, but eventually, it ended. When you came out for bows, you heard a particularly loud cheer, and you didn’t have to guess who it was. It made you smile even more, so much that your cheeks started getting sore.

When the bows were over, and the cast and crew were finding their friends and family in the audience, you ran to Regina. It was a bit difficult weaving through the crowd, especially in your costume, but eventually, you reached the blonde, who had her arms opened wide and ready to catch you.

“You were amazing!” Regina all but shouted in your ear as she hugged you, squeezing you tightly. “Absolutely showstopping. One day, you’ll be a famous actress.”

“You think too highly of me, Regina.” You said with a giggle, and you were sure that your reddening cheeks were showing through your heavy stage makeup.

You grabbed your girlfriend’s face and kissed her. It was a million times better than pretending you were kissing her instead of Jared when you were on stage. Regina’s hands dropped to your hips, pulling you close against her. When you let out a little moan, you knew you should pull away before you felt like you couldn’t turn back.

“These are for you,” Regina said before biting her slightly swollen lip, giving you the giant bouquet she had gotten for you. One thing about Regina was that she was never cheap.

“I love them.” You smiled, giving her a few pecks.

“Anything for you, my little star.” The nickname made you giddy, made you feel like you were the only ones in this gigantic room. “Now how about you go change, we get some food, and then you sleep over at my house?”

“That sounds perfect.” You kissed Regina again; it was like you were addicted to her lips. “I should go now. If I kiss you anymore, I’ll probably never leave.”

“I definitely wouldn’t complain,” Regina smirked, but agreed that you should go change. She turned you around by the shoulders and gave you a quick pat on the butt to send you on your way, laughing at the way you squealed in surprise.

[bajicantspell]

Strangers

Summary : part two to Kodzuken in my DMs (press), although i wrote it in a way that reading part one isn’t necessary. The only context you need is that x reader is a small instagram influencer. This chapter is about them hanging out together, doing stuff and Kenma pondering how to make you his girlfriend :)

→ Warnings: smut,cursing (Fluff) 🎧

Kenma loved every conversation with you and couldn't get enough. Each text left him wanting you more ; you were just so… interesting. He was completely amused and infatuated with you. 

The fact that he also thought you were a total smoke show was a bonus as well. It was like having the best of both worlds – someone who was not only interesting to talk to but also insanely attractive.

He daydreamed about you a lot, whether he was grocery shopping and saw the drink you told him you like, or glancing at his screen every few minutes hoping you’d reply. He also thought about you, at other times. With one last whimper he flopped onto his bed, exhausted, reaching for the tissues.

He couldn’t help himself; everything you said, every picture you sent, every time you spoke during a call, made him feel a certain way. Your words, your voice, and your beauty all had a profound effect on him, stirring emotions he couldn't ignore. Each interaction left him more captivated, more infatuated with you, and he found himself constantly thinking about you during his alone time late at night. 

Kenma kept breathing heavily due to his exhaustion from his high, feeling his eyelids growing heavier. 

“Fuck, wish you were here.” He whispered to no one, hoping it could reach you. 

He just felt so, so fucking lucky. Not only were you everything he asked for, your university was also ridiculously close to his place, so you didnt live far either. It was as if everything was perfectly set up for you to get together. 

He’s a logical man, he wouldn’t be hopeful if the probabilities of you being together were low, but each day he was growing  more and more impatient.

He didn't know if he was doing the flirting thing right, but he assumed he must be doing something right since you agreed to go out with him a couple of times over the few weeks of knowing each other.

Over text you could talk together so much, no conversation was boring with you. But he spend the entire evening of your first date just staring at you in awe. You honestly looked better up close than in your pictures, he didnt know that was possible. He could tell you were a little nervous since you talked about everything and anything that came to mind. Your constant chatter was endearing, revealing your anxiousness in a way that made him sheepishly smile. It was clear you were trying to fill the silence, and he found your efforts adorable. 

Thankfully, when you talk you’re not that in touch with your surroundings, so maybe he got away with staring. 

Lying down in his bed, he smiled a little at the memory. He drifted off to sleep, knowing he’d get to see you again tomorrow. The thought brought him a sense of calm as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Kenma has always been observant of people, a skill that served him well during his high school volleyball days. Old habits die hard, and his keen observation hasn’t faded. But now, it’s working against him as he watches you wrap your lips around the coke bottle, his eyes fixated. It makes him wish he were that bottle.

You noticed his eyes lingering.

"Ken', are you okay?" you asked.

"Hm? What?" he replied, caught off guard. 

He invited you to his house for a date night, away from the crowds. The past few times you went out together, you were stared at due to his presence, and he noticed it made you a little uncomfortable. He knew exactly how that felt. Back in high school, he had even bleach-damaged his long beautiful raven locks just to avoid standing out. Though he's an introvert himself, he eventually got used to the public attention fame brings and learned how to tune it out. But he understood that it's not something everyone can easily adapt to. He wanted to ensure you felt at ease, so inviting you to his house seemed like the best way to enjoy each other's company without any unwanted attention. 

"You were staring, Ken," you chuckled.

The way you said his nickname was smooth and sweet, giving him chills. Your seductive voice held him utterly entranced. 

“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty.” He said, leaning down to peck your lips. 

You shared a few kisses, both gentle pecks and passionate ones, but it never went further than that. You didnt know each other long enough for it to go further than that. 

You smiled against his lips and he swore his heart skipped a beat. You don’t know what you do to him. He was completely and utterly at your mercy, like putty in your hands. 

He knew that if someone who knew him well, like Kuroo, saw him interacting with you, they wouldn’t believe it was the same Kenma. 

He surprised himself, honestly. Kenma wasn’t used to being this gentle; he was more familiar with hearing his friends call him a bit intimidating or too straightforward. Though he wouldn't admit it, he kind of enjoyed leaning into his scariness. He also really enjoyed making fun of his friends, if he didn’t throw shit at Kuroo at least once it’d be a bad day. He took particular delight in finding the perfect moments to attack in his monotone voice, and Kuroo was often his favorite target. 

Honestly, you couldn’t believe that the guy taking you out, showering you with gifts and compliments, taking photos of you when you asked, and offering to help you with everything, was the same guy famous for his streams being the definition of chaos. The contrast was striking, and you wondered if you’d get to see both sides eventually. 

"Ken? Should we clean up and watch a movie?" you whispered softly, your face just inches from his.

"Mmhm," he murmured, his voice low and warm. "How about I wash the dishes while you pick out a movie?" His eyes lingered on yours, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, "No, I'll do it. You paid for the food."

He smiled, appreciating your gesture. "Alright," he said, leaning back a bit. "But next time, it's my turn to clean up."

With a playful nod, you headed to the kitchen, feeling his gaze follow you.

He snickered, enjoying the view as you walked away.

Kenma often found himself questioning whether his opinions of you were merely a romanticized version he had created in his mind, or if you truly were that perfect for him. He couldn't help but wonder if his feelings were clouding his judgment, making you seem even more flawless than you actually were. The way you made him feel was undeniable, but he often pondered whether his perception was influenced by his own desires and hopes.

He mentally shook his head—no, that’s not how his mind operated. Kenma was to his core, a realist, often setting himself up for disappointment by meticulously analysing every detail. There was no idealized version of you in his mind; it was simply you. He couldn’t find any flaws because, to him, there genuinely were none.

He knew sooner or later he’d have to officially make you his. The thought of it made his heart race with anticipation and excitement. 

The fact that you were still technically available made him simmer with jealousy, despite the unspoken understanding between you that you were unofficially exclusive. He knew he needed to change the 'unofficial' part, though.

He didn't know what got over him, but something compelled him to go after you. An irresistible urge surged through him, driving him to follow you into the kitchen.

You were washing the last plate, completely lost in your thoughts, when you were suddenly brought back to reality by the feel of two hands gently gripping your waist and a head resting on your shoulder. The warmth of his touch and the closeness of his presence sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you out of your reverie. His breath was soft against your ear, and you could feel his heartbeat against your back, grounding you in the moment.

“Well, hello there,” you chuckled, your voice light and amused, hiding your nervousness.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice muffled against the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath tickled your skin, sending tingles through you. His arms tightened around your waist slightly, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. You could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gentle press of his lips against your skin.

You giggled in response. 

“I’m almost done with these. Did you pick a mo—” you were suddenly interrupted by his grip tightening on your waist, bringing you closer, followed by the sensation of wet, lingering kisses being placed on the back of your neck.

“Kenma, what are you doing?” You asked, your voice firm and low. 

"Whatever you want me to. If you want, I'll stop," he replied matter-of-factly, his breath warm against your neck. His hands remained firmly on your waist, but he eased up slightly, giving you the space to decide.

You paused.

"I want... I want more."

Kenma's eyes lit up. "More?" he echoed quietly, a spark of excitement and anticipation in his voice. His grip on your waist tightened once again, his lips hovering just above your skin as he awaited your next move, eager to fulfill your desire.

“Mhmm,” you nervously replied, still gripping the plates. Your heart raced as you felt him grin against your neck, anticipation building with every second.

“Well, if you want more, I'll give you more,” Kenma murmured, his voice low and full of promise. His hands slid up your sides gently, and his lips resumed their trail of kisses along your neck, making your heart race even faster.

His hands slid under your shirt, over your bra, an action that made you set the plates down in the sink gently. The feel of his touch sent a sense of calm through you, and you leaned back into him; an action that made him smirk against your neck.

He played with the textured lace of your bra, his fingers tracing the delicate fabric as if asking for permission to go further. You nodded, neither of you making a sound, the tension between you too much to make a sound. His fingers, encouraged by your silent approval, continued their exploration with more confidence.

He stopped at the hook of your bra, bringing both hands to unclip your bra in one swift motion.

The ease with which he did it made you wonder how much practice he had. His fingers moved so skillfully, it seemed almost instinctual. But don't worry; it was just a fluke. Even he was surprised by it. In reality, he was navigating this new territory with as much uncertainty as you were. The chemistry between you made everything feel natural, even though his heart was pounding just as hard as yours.

When your bra was completely off, with just a little bit of hesitation his hands approached to cup your breasts. His touch was tentative at first, fingers lightly tracing over them as if he were memorizing every curve. 

"Fuckin' perfect perky tits." he mumbled against your neck, almost as if he were talking to himself. His breath was hot against your skin, and the words came out in a hushed, reverent tone.

You could only giggle in response. 

He pulled one hand out from under your shirt, cringing as the sudden cold air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you provided.

With one hand still drawing circles around your chest, he brought the other one in front of you, his middle and ring finger just before your mouth. His silent request was clear, so he eagerly waited for you to part your lips. 

"Say it," you said, a sudden confidence overcoming you.

"Hmm? Say what?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity and anticipation.

"Say what you want me to do," you commanded softly, challenging him to voice his desires.

"Oh yeah? Okay then. Suck ‘em," he said with a chuckle, his fingers practically pushing your lips open. The playful command, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers, sent a thrill through you. You parted your lips, letting his fingers slide in, and the taste of his skin filling your mouth.

He was still pressed up against your back, and throughout this entire exchange, it was the only time he was glad he couldn’t see your face. He knew he didn't have the self-control to hold back if he saw your pretty, pouty lips wrapped around his fingers like that. The thought alone was enough to drive him wild, but the feel of your mouth on his fingers, warm and inviting, was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, much to his displeasure, he had to remove himself from your mouth.

His sticky, saliva-covered fingers quickly slipped back under your shirt before you could notice. Meanwhile, his other hand traveled just below the waistband of your sweats, tracing the small bow on your panties.

With the fingers that were mere moments ago in your mouth he started gently tracing your nipple, slightly pinching it in the process, causing you to mewl oh so quietly. 

He had to bite down on your neck to quickly ground himself. Hearing you make a noise, even if it was barely audible, for the first time had him battling every instinct to not pounce on you that same instant. The soft sound made him want to hear it more, and he struggled to maintain control, every fibber of his being yearning to give in to the moment. He was so hard it was aching. 

He couldn’t help himself. While maintaining the rhythm of his fingers, he began gently grinding against you, unable to resist the overwhelming urge.

“Fuck, baby. I never knew it could feel this good, never felt this good with anyone. ” he quickly mumbled, his voice whiney, almost a whimper. 

You couldn’t even process the new pet name, you were clenching around nothing and aching for attention too much. 

You couldn’t even remember the last time you were touched like this. Kenma had his own struggles with love due to his fame, and although you were locally known at best, it didn’t mean you didn’t attract a bunch of insecure boys. Men who claimed they didn’t care about the online attention you received would quickly change their tune when they saw how many men were in your comments. Some even used you to boast to their friends about talking to you. As a result, every experience you had prior to this one felt completely one-sided. They didn’t care if you felt good or not, as long as they got off. Your last boyfriend couldn’t even make you come once in the entire three months you were together.

But Kenma was different. Kenma wasn’t insecure, and his feelings for you, although attraction based at first, were real now. His touch was filled with genuine desire and hunger, making you feel truly seen and wanted, craved even. The contrast was striking,and it made all those past experiences fade into insignificance.

“Kenma?” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Mhmm?” he responded, his voice husky he continued to touch you. 

“Please. Wanna come,” you pleaded, your need evident in every word. The desperation in your voice only fueled his own, making him more determined to bring you to the edge.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, pretty,” he said, his voice filled with urgency. The hand that had been teasing the edge of your cute panties slipped inside, his fingers skillfully finding their way to your most sensitive spot.

He paused for a moment as his fingertips brushed against your entrance. “You’re fucking soaked,” he murmured, a hint of awe and satisfaction in his voice.

“Maybe you’re doing something right, then,” you replied with a teasing smile, your voice a mix of playful and breathless. 

“Maybe I am,” he teased back, a smirk playing on his lips as his middle finger began making gentle circular motions on your bundle of nerves using your own juices to lubricate it. It was so lewd. The sensation was like nothing you’ve felt before, making you gasp and lean further into him.

‘Fucking gamer hands.’ You thought to yourself. 

As his fingers continued their rhythmic movements, you could feel the intensity building within you, every movement bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths grew shallower, your heart racing as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations he was creating. His other hand, still wet and playing around with your nipple, only fueled the buildup. 

Kenma’s eyes never left what he could see of your face, watching every expression. You couldn’t meet his gaze, eyes closed in pleasure. If you could, you’d be terrified by the dark, feline-like stare he wore. His eyes were intense, predatory, and focused entirely on you, taking in every detail of your reaction. The sight of you, lost in feeling because of him, only spurred him on. 

He could tell you were close.

He whispered softly in your ear, “Let go for me, pretty,” his voice a mix of command and tenderness. His assured yet gentle words urged you to surrender. 

The rhythmic circles on your sensitive spot grew more insistent and you could feel the tension building, a powerful wave approaching.

His free hand roamed your body, adding to the sensations. You felt completely surrounded by him—his presence, his touch, his voice—all combining to create an experience unlike any you had known.

As the intensity built, your breaths became ragged, your body trembling with anticipation. Kenma’s dark, intense eyes never left your face, capturing every expression and quiver of pleasure.

 “Let go,” he repeated, his voice now a husky murmur, filled with urgency and promise. His touch and words were irresistible, and you finally surrendered, giving in to the overwhelming pleasure.

Loud whimpers filled the house as your muscles tensed from the sensation. The intense pleasure made it impossible to stay quiet, each sound escaping your lips adding to the excitement. Your whole body tightened, responding to the waves of ecstasy, leaving you breathless and trembling in Kenma's arms.

He finally turned you around, taking a good look at your face. His eyes roamed over your features, taking in every detail—the flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the dazed expression in your eyes. He smiled to himself, proud of his work.

“Was it good?” he asked, gently cupping your face. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek, his eyes searching yours for an answer. Not that there was any doubt in his mind it wasn’t. 

“Are you joking? That was the best one I’ve had in a long time.” you replied breathlessly , a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

Your arms wrapped around him and he followed suit. You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, you calming down from your high and him holding you through it.

His fingers gently stroked your back, a soothing gesture that further eased you into a state of complete relaxation.

“Ken?”

“Yeah?” he responded, his voice gentle and attentive.

“I’m on the pill, you know,” you said, your voice teasing but clear.

He grinned slyly, “Oh yea? And why are you telling me this?” 

You stood on your tiptoes, gently pulling him closer by the collar. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't resist, his breath hitching as you leaned in close. Your lips brushed against his ear, and you whispered, "Because I wanna go to your room so you can ruin me."

He hid his surprise and excitement, taking a step back. "Sorry, I don’t fuck strangers." He lied.

You were confused. "Strangers?" you echoed, your voice tinged with hurt and uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he said, leaning on the counter. “So unless you wanna be my girlfriend, it’s a no for me.” He smirked, watching your face change from confusion to realization.

The initial hurt faded, replaced by a mix of surprise and excitement. "Girlfriend?" you repeated, your voice softening. 

“Mmhm.” He replied with anticipation. 

A smile appeared on your face. “Oh, fuck you. I thought you were going to kick me out or something. Couldn't you ask like a normal person?”

He chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. “Where’s the fun in that?” he teased. “So, what’s it going to be? Girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your grin. “Yes, Kenma. I’ll be your girlfriend.’ 

“Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Now, about ruining you...”

You looked up at him seductively. “Gonna have to catch me first.”

Before he could process what you said, you quickly turned and ran to the bedroom, laughing.

“Don’t run so loud, you’re annoying,” he called after you, a huge grin plastered across his face as he followed you.

Kenma genuinely lost count of how many times he came in you that night. 

𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 ↓。

a bunch of ppl requested anonymously for this to be a smut chapter, so I’m delivering lmaoo, you animals. (ILY THANK U FOR THE SUPPORT) Tags : @nazwrites-2002 @nishayuro @nnnyxie If u wanna get tagged in my next fic abt Suna or if u want a part 3 lmk <3

[legobiwan]

I want to spend a moment talking about Ford's relationship with alcohol and how it ties back to both his social isolation and relationship with Bill. Warning, there's no real thesis to this post, but I do want to explore the concrete tidbits we get in so-called 'canon.'

Before Ford meets Bill, it's more or less stated that Ford doesn't really drink - maybe on occasion (high school/college shenanigans and such) and in small amounts, but never to excess. To do so would be to lose control of both his intellect and actions, and we all know Ford loves to try and exert control over his environment.

And then Bill comes around with this proposition:

"How about I mix you a drink to make it up to you? It's called the 'Myoclonic Jerk' and it can get you loaded in your sleep. Salvador Dali loved 'em!" "I was flattered but politely declined - I'm not much of a drinker."

Well, we know how that turned out.

Long-standing crush/obsession peer pressures you into drinking and you give in, finally able to slough off your many, many inhibitions for a delightful evening of...well, we're not exactly sure what happened but we're kind of sure via insinuation. (And let's be honest. The man did build a literal shrine to Bill, a point which I feel we're ignoring in the whole Bill-crying-over-his beer-because-he-got-dumped fiasco).

Anyway, Bill feels awkward. Ford feels awkward. They get cosmically smashed and then whatever happens, happens, but there's no reason this is considered a negative event considering Ford's escalating shrine and Bill's consistent fixation.

Fast-forward to the Krampus incident.

"He asked if I was finally coming around on holidays, or if this was just to keep the Krampus from coming back. I told him it was time to drink nog until we couldn't remember what a Krampus was."

I don't think Ford's referring to virgin egg nog here.

This is fascinating shift for a man who claims he doesn't really drink not all that long ago. There has to have been enough positive reinforcement for Ford to default to suggesting getting blackout drunk again for him to even bring this up. (The last time ended up with him and Bill doing something...good - he thinks. Ford doesn't want to consider the Krampus and how he insinuated that Ford was a callous, lonely man who cared for no one by not offering 'holiday cheer' to others. He might even feel that his natural anxiety and 'oddness' dissipate when he's drunk - a common enough rationalization for people with social anxiety/issues finding a social home. Hell, it might even be a fragment of what could be attraction to Fiddleford that he's working through the same unhealthy way Bill did with him).

This isn't the last time Ford gets plastered in canon.

"I was so excited that we [Ford and Jheselbraum] spent the entire night partying and drinking Cosmic Sand - the very same kind Time Baby himself consumes. When I awoke the next morning, she was gone and I was in another dimension entirely."

Again, I don't think Cosmic Sand is a Dasani bottle in this universe. Ford waking up in a whole new dimension with no idea how he got there is more than enough evidence, not to mention the fact the Oracle used to run with Bill's gang of Henchmaniacs and Ford himself outwardly states that they (him and Jheselbraum) 'party,' which is amazing for a man who was so socially tortured for so long. (But there is something to be said for being a freak in a situation where you know you'll be a freak. For example, living abroad in a country you have no chance of fitting in due to the way you look. You accept that you're going to be perceived as weird and that takes a certain amount of pressure off you, although it doesn't really help if and when you go back home. I have the feeling Ford experienced something similar on the other side of the Portal, and aside from not being able to kill Bill, it may have contributed to some of his bitterness upon coming back to Gravity Falls. Because at the end of the day, you can't run from yourself, and Ford had been running for a long, long time).

Funny enough, this habit doesn't seem to cease even after Ford comes back through the Portal, the most notable moment being after Stan and Ford are captured by Bill while the kids run off on a - as Ford so aptly puts - 'suicide mission.'

I would bet good, legal currency that this isn't water. Why even include it in the animation - in a set of episodes that were already constrained in terms of time and plot - without good reason? The fact that he passes his canteen to Stan afterwards is telling.

They're bracing themselves.

Now, why Ford had this on him before the surprise Weirdmaggedon (and that has to be when he equipped it, as he was in captivity throughout the rest of the timeline up to the point where the Shacktron and Stan/Mabel/Dipper freed the Gravity Falls citizens) - well, that's anyone's guess.

Addiction? Wanting to feel something the way he did so many years ago? Trying to bury a fuckton of emotional issues, including the nature of his relationships with Bill and Fiddleford? (He is a child of 1960s New Jersey, and that is bound to fuck you up). Too much time spent hanging around Rick Sanchez in the multiverse? (Not out of the realm of possibility).

I've seen a few fanfics touch on this topic and I don't think it's that much of a stretch to consider that Ford - for many, many reasons - may have developed an unhealthy relationship with alcohol, not solely, but at least partially due to Bill's initial influence and that first true influenced moment possibly resulting in a scenario where Ford would be able to drop so many of his barriers and, for once, (in his mind), be a human who is worthy of acceptance without needing to prove and justify his existence through achievement and accolades.

Anyway, this would be great fodder for Stan O'War II content, especially considering the massive guilt complex/hair shirt Ford dons after the whole Weirdmageddon event.

[livinghostly]

back to it — tooru oikawa x reader

a/n: woah hey guys !!! 2 years late heres an oikawa drabble wk: 1.5k reader bumps into competition at a volleyball meet. fluff. oikawa being a brat

the karasuno boys volleyball team pressed through the entrance doors to the unfamiliar high school, eyes gleaming with curiosity as they observed their new environment. the halls were stuffed with parents and friends waiting to support their players, sporting the jerseys of different schools. the line for the concession stand wrapped around the corner.

hinata was a few paces ahead, his head on a swivel as he passed all the players– much taller than him. his eyes gravitated to a particularly tall first-year, he was so fixated on looking behind him to realize he was running directly into someone.

“what–? oh my god! i am so sorry! i’m sorry, please forgive me! i wasn’t paying attention,” hinata stumbled backward and fell into a respectful bow, his anxiety swelling in his stomach as he clenched his eyes shut.

you looked over your shoulder at him, barely registering that he’d run into you by the time he’d finished his ramblings. you couldn’t help but laugh at his overreaction, brushing it off with a shrug and turning to face him.

he shot his head up at the sound of your light giggles, somehow more relieved, as well as mortified. he was paling with fear, taking a small step back and running into the chest of his captain, who laid a solid hand on his shoulder. hinata felt helpless, jaw agape as he made himself smaller and smaller between you and daichi.

he recognized the colors on your jersey, white with deep green lettering that matched the shade of your shorts. there was a volleyball tucked beneath your left arm and your fingers were taped together. hinata peeked behind you, where the rest of your team congregated at the water fountain to refill their bottles. there were duffel bags and knee pads scattered on the floor.

“you’re– you’re the iron wall!” hinata pointed with a shaking finger.

“hinata! it’s rude to point,” daichi removed his clasp on the redhead’s shoulder to slap away hinata’s hand. “y/n, i am so sorry about him. he’s one of our first years, he gets overwhelmed pretty easily.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “it’s alright. it’s good to see you, daichi.”

daichi moved hinata to the side so he wasn’t between you anymore, but the first-year still observed with wide eyes. you shook hands and, unfortunately for daichi, he couldn’t hide the way his cheeks flushed.

kageyama narrowed his eyes as you continued talking to his captain. there was something eerily familiar about you, something wrong. maybe it was because most volleyball players he met ended up being competition, but your friendliness threw him off. and he certainly didn’t like the way daichi was enamored with you. “daichi knows her?”

leaning into his teammate, sugawara answered, “they went to middle school together, or something, i think. she’s captain of the girls volleyball team and took them to nationals last year.”

but why were you so familiar to him?

despite how genuine you were, there was a cunning glint in your eye, subtle to his teammates and their lackluster observational skills. from behind him, he could practically hear tanaka and nishinoya reel their tongues back in after catching flies.

“you went to nationals!?” hinata interjected with an admiring gasp. his eyes seemed to sparkle at the mention of the competition.

“sure did,” you winked at him. he could melt right into his shoes.

daichi laughed heartily. “oh, yeah. it’s incredible to watch her play. don’t let her trick you, though. her mind games on the court are pure evil.”

“c’mon, daichi! don’t give it away, it’s more fun when they find out on their own.”

if it wasn’t for the buzz of conversation filling the hallway, you would have heard him coming– the fe, fi, fo, fum of his 6’0” stature. he was parading himself through the hallway in his freshly steamed volleyball uniform, so far unscathed from his morning practice. if only you could see him behind you, a narrowed expression of concentration and mischief, his eyes on the prize.

suddenly, it seemed as if the karasuno boys had spotted a ghost. fear struck daichi’s eyes and his words died in his throat, and your face contorted in confusion.

“y/n! it’s lovely to see you here.” 

oh, there he is.

oikawa had sauntered up behind you, towering over your figure with a smug grin. he was as ecstatic as ever, eyes squinted with the generous smile that took over his face. it was a regular habit of his to mask his disdain with glee, one of the many things that made him unsettling to be around.

you did your best to contain your excitement but lost the fight against the corners of your lips curling upward. he was insufferable. your stomach turned and you straightened up, relaxing your expression as you turned to face the seijoh player. from behind you, daichi let out a noise that resembled uncertainty, but wasn’t strong enough to use his voice.

“oikawa,” you greeted with a thin smile.

“how was your first game? i heard it was pretty quick.”

“hardly a warm-up,” you corrected. even if the karasuno boys couldn’t spot the mischievous gleam in your eyes, it was clear you were ready to match his energy. it sent a chill down sugawara’s spine. “pretty easy to win when your girl's volleyball team only serves as your fan club.”

tadashi gasped as if the comment was meant to slice him, and was quickly glared into silence by his peer. the team couldn’t help but stay silent as they watched the showdown, the strife in you and oikawa’s eyes met in the middle like a clash of lightning, both of you trying your hardest to win the battle.

oikawa’s smile faltered for a millisecond, and your ego swelled as you waited for a rebuttal. “you’re lucky to hold down the fort as the sole surviving third year on the team. has it gotten to you yet? reining in all those underclassmen by yourself?” he leaned closer, down to your level, and his voice dropped. “they have pretty big shoes to fill if you’re gonna make it again.”

“h-hey!” hinata cut in. you and oikawa snapped your head in his direction, suddenly remembering he was there. “at least y/n has been to nationals! how can you call yourself the great king if you haven’t even gotten that far?” 

there was a beat of silence. the redhead only met you minutes ago, hardly knew anything about you, but he would be damned if he let oikawa win. a smile slowly crept up your face, all the while oikawa was frozen in horror– possibly embarrassment if he’d ever admit to it.

you threw your head back in a bark of laughter, hugging the ball tighter against your side and resting a hand over your chest. it was hard to contain, and went on too long for oikawa’s liking. his ears were red, and he snapped out of his shock and faced you again with his nose scrunched.

“you know, i don’t call myself the great king!” oikawa cried, crossing his arms as he straightened up– ever so dignified.

it was the same tone he used when iwaizumi called him out, kageyama recognized it from the countless arguments he witnessed in middle school. oikawa’s pride had been swept away by hinata’s comment. despite how insignificant he found the first year, he knew was right.

the tension in the air has completely dissolved, instead the air filled with a playful breeze as you bickered back and forth. it left the karasuno team dumbfounded and awkward, caught in between it all.

“oh, but you revel in it, don’t you?” you said, almost in a purr as you grinned, narrowing your eyes and leaning closer to him.

oikawa stared you down, only lasting a few seconds until he whipped his head in the opposite direction in a poor attempt to hide his blush. you shook your head with a faint giggle yet again, relief washing over your body. it was silly to say you won the interaction, but you couldn’t help but revel in the satisfaction of getting him to react like that.

but now, like every other time, you had to be the one to clean it up.

you dropped the volleyball on the bench beside you and wrapped a hand around his bicep. his shoulders relaxed, and you turned to the crows. “sorry about that, guys! i gotta go, but i’ll see you after you win!”

“y/n! can you stop saying things like that?” oikawa huffed, his voice barely above a whisper as the two of you began to walk away. you cackled, and he slipped his hand into your own despite the steam coming off of him.

the karasuno team was left dumbfounded as they processed the events that unfolded in front of them. all but kageyama, who hummed with acknowledgment as the pieces started to click together. he slipped away to the nearby vending machine with the other first-years that had reeled in their shock (ie; tsukishima and tadashi) while leaving the upperclassmen to mend daichi’s morale. i won’t lie, man. that was a tough watch, said asahi.

as you rounded the corner you were greeted by iwaizumi at the end of the hall, his anger warping the air around him like a bonfire. 

“oikawa! what the hell do you think you’re doing? stop messing around with your girlfriend and get your ass back in here!”

“why is everyone so mean today?” the setter whined.

[indigoflorals]

Revenge (18+)

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Sum: Ex boyfriend Rafe takes what he wants from you

Warnings: Dub-Con, (if this upsets you, do not proceed), Unprotected sex, Breeding kink, choking, Forced pregnancy(if this upsets you, do not proceed)

This work has MATURE themes. If any of the above warnings upset you, please do not proceed.

𖥸

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since you had been in the passenger seat of his truck, and being honest you didn’t think you would ever be there again.

Yet, there you were, sat beside him with his hand on your thigh and your eyes fixated on the road.

You had agreed to see him. To try and work things out. Rafe had been your very first boyfriend, your high school sweetheart. The breakup had shattered him. When you walked away, he told himself that if you every came back, he’d never let you slip through his fingers again.

The radio blasted over the silence within the truck. Neither of you had really spoken more than a few words after he had picked you up. You really weren’t even sure where you were going.

“We’re gonna stay at my place tonight. Like normal.” His fingers flexed against the fat of your thigh, tracing the skin there.

You tensed, “Nothing is normal about today Rafe.”

He only hummed in response, eyes still trained on the road.

-

When you arrived at Tanneyhill, the first thing you noticed was how absolutely deserted the place was. No groundskeepers, no cleaners, and especially none of Rafe’s family.

His bedroom gave you nostalgia of high school nights spent together. Nights under him and on top of him. So many memories flooded through you.

Rafe patted his lap, signaling you to come sit. “I missed having you here with me.”

You brushed off his advance, eyes wandering to the decorations hung about. Baseball trophies from high school and photos of the two of you were sprawled everywhere.

A sudden feeling came over you. A feeling to flee. This was not where you should be right now. This was your ex boyfriend for a reason, and it was time to move on. This room was filled with the best memories, but it only flooded your mine with the worst ones.

“Rafe,” You paused, eyeing the door, “I think I should go.”

In an instant his hands were on you, and he was backing you up into a wall. You were caged in by his muscular arms on either side, and a look of anger and frustration filled his face. “You’re here so we can fix things. You’re not going anywhere.”

Before you could protest, his lips were on your neck, kissing the spot only he knew you loved. Rafe was well in tune with your body, and he knew everything that made you tick.

“No Rafe,” You tried to shove him off in a futile effort, stifling a moan “We can’t.”

He only squeezed you harder in response, ignoring your pleas. His hands roamed your ass, and the familiarity of his warm palms on you lit a fire in your stomach.

In one pull, you were tossed up and onto his shoulder, “I’m just gonna have to remind you just who fucking owns you.”

“Rafe!” Your cries were muffled by his lips on yours as he tossed you onto his bed. You were undeniably wet, but in your gut you knew it was wrong.

Without breaking the kiss, Rafe pulled your shirt and bra up, exposing your breasts for him to fondle. You moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his rough and calloused fingers against your soft nipples.

Pulling away, he took one nipple into his mouth, biting softy, and you arched in pleasure and pain at the feeling. Releasing it with a ‘pop’, he flicked the other one until it perked.

You were completely unable to resist him.

“Gonna make you sure you know you’re mine. Gonna get you fucking pregnant this time.” Lust filled his eyes in a look you had never seen before. He pulled your soft shorts down, ripping the waist in the process.

Your ex truly looked like a man starved in that moment, staring at your panty covered pussy as if it was his last meal.

He wasted no time pulling himself from his shorts and pulling your panties to the side. There was no time given for you to adjust to his size, and god knows you needed it. Even in just the few weeks without him, the stretch was nearly unbearable.

“Rafe, oh fuck, it’s too much,” You cried, digging your nails into his back. He didn’t falter, only pounded into you like it was the last time he’d ever get a chance to.

A string hand came to your throat, squeezing at your windpipe. Your head was foggy now, only pleasure on your mind. “You’re gonna fucking take all of it. You can handle it.“

You could feel yourself coming undone as you strained against the hand on your neck. You squirmed intensely under him, crying out as you clenched around him.

“Cum all on my cock baby, so fucking good. Im gonna fill you up with my kids. Fucking breed you. Make you mine forever.” Rafe’s face contorted with pleasure and you felt him pulse inside of your Your eyes opened wide at his words, and you fought against him. His hand on your throat was unyielding.

He squeezed your throat one last time as he came inside of you, and your pussy fluttered at the warm feeling of his cum. “Take it all, baby. Gonna make you a mom.”

Rafe removed the hand from your neck, and you sucked in a hard breath, coughing. Tears ran down your cheeks as you stared at him.

You could feel the stickiness between your legs begin to pool, and your stomach dropped. How long would you have to get Plan B? Would he let you get Plan B? Were you even leaving here?

A hand came to caress your face softly, wiping the tears from your eyes. “You look so beautiful like this, my cum dripping out of you.”

This was not the boyfriend you knew. Not the Rafe who had taken you on beach dates in high school and made playlists of songs that reminded him of you. No, this was someone entirely différents

His hand slid to your lower stomach, and he thumbed a spot there. “Everyone will know exactly who you belong to when you’re good and pregnant with my baby. You’re mine now forever.”

[luvkyu]

rivals ( lee donghyuck/haechan ) part two

hyuck wants to get closer to his rival.

content : 2.2k words, male reader, fluff, high school!au, academic enemies to lovers trope

note : this is v soft compared to part one and im in love w it tbh. i'll start writing part three soon, which will also be the last part :)

part one | part three

"what do you know about y/n?"

jaemin's brows furrowed at the sudden question.

"y/n from our class?" he asked, looking between donghyuck and his open locker.

"yes, that y/n. dumbass."

jaemin clicked his tongue and flicked his friend's head.

"not a lot. i don't think anyone really knows a lot about him. he's really good friends with mark though."

"mark lee??"

jaemin nodded, "yeah. jisung said that y/n hangs around after dance practices sometimes and then they leave together."

donghyuck nodded, a little surprised at the way his heart sank.

"but i think they're also neighbors so," jaemin added.

"ah okay.."

"why?"

donghyuck felt a small surge of panic run through his body. he could hear the suspicion in jaemin's voice.

"..nothing. just wondering."

"whatever you say," jaemin replied with a small smile.

it was monday morning, and if you asked donghyuck, the weekend passed way too slowly. he hadn't told anyone about spending time with y/n on friday afternoon. it was driving him crazy if he was honest. he kept finding the urge to bring up y/n in random conversations, or just tell one of his friends about how much fun he had killing time in the restaurant before they had to part ways that evening. his grudge against y/n was crumbling fast.

"haechan."

donghyuck's head snapped back up to look at jaemin.

"what?"

"you coming? lunch time."

"oh right, yes."

jaemin snickered at him. he watched donghyuck hurry to zip up his school bag and close his locker, but not before stealing a quick glance at y/n's unoccupied locker across the hall.

donghyuck and jaemin eagerly found their table of friends after entering the cafeteria. the others began to go get their food, while donghyuck's attention was fixating on one thing. or rather, one person.

he frowned as he looked around at the different tables. y/n wasn't to be seen anywhere. donghyuck did, however, spot a different familiar face. he took a deep breath and began walking over.

"hi, sorry, um.. do you know where y/n is, by chance?"

mark looked up from his phone in confusion. why was lee donghyuck asking for y/n's whereabouts?

"why?" mark asked.

"i wanted to eat lunch with him. does he have a different lunch period?"

the corner of mark's mouth tilted in thought.

"no, he's in our lunch period. he just eats up at the rooftop garden."

donghyuck's face instantly brightened at the information. with a small bow, he said a quick thank you and rushed out of the cafeteria.

the small bag of food in donghyuck's hand was getting more crushed and crumpled with every step he took. just the idea of seeing y/n made him nervous. the kind of nervous where your head gets fuzzy and your body feels shaky. he hated it, but he loved it.

before he knew it, he was already at the top of the stairs and pulling open the door to the rooftop garden. he stood still for a moment after finally finding y/n. the male was sitting at one of the shaded tables, headphones on, chopsticks in one hand eating cup noodles while he flipped through a textbook with the other hand.

donghyuck felt his heart flutter. he continued walking over to him until he was finally sitting down next to him. y/n jumped at the sudden presence of someone else. he quickly removed his headphones to sit around his neck, looking over at his classmate.

"are you really studying while eating?" donghyuck asked. y/n looked at his textbook, feeling a little self conscious.

"i was just reviewing a little."

donghyuck's brows furrowed in disapproval.

"lunch is supposed to be a break. give your brain some time to breathe," he gently closed the book and pushed it aside before looking back at y/n with a soft smile. "talk with me instead."

"are you just trying to get me to fall behind so i won't be top student anymore?"

"that would definitely be a perk, yes," donghyuck responded with a small chuckle. y/n rolled his eyes, but still laughed along.

"what are you even doing up here?" y/n asked.

donghyuck looked away as he tried to form an answer that wouldn't embarrass himself. he could feel himself getting flustered, but he'd sooner move schools than let y/n know that.

"i wanted to eat somewhere that wasn't so crowded," he answered. "same for you i assume?"

y/n nodded, "i hate eating in the cafeteria."

"what about when it rains up here?"

"usually i'll just stay on the top step of the stairs," he replied while pointing to the staircase inside. donghyuck only nodded, which surprised the other. he thought surely donghyuck would make fun of him or tease him.

"you're nicer than i thought you'd be," y/n said quietly.

"hm? i'm nice?"

"nice-ish."

donghyuck began to unpack his lunch in efforts to hide his growing smile.

"i can be mean if you want," he joked before his gaze locked with y/n's.

"no no, i like nice donghyuck," he responded quickly.

donghyuck's face was practically on fire. he could feel it, but he refused to look away from y/n this time. it was quiet between them for a moment, simply staring at each other through the tension until donghyuck cleared his throat.

"are you doing anything tonight?"

"i'm st-"

"studying, right." donghyuck laughed lightly. "can i join?"

y/n felt his heart jump.

"you want to study together?"

"yeah, why not? we can exchange numbers and meet at a café or something."

"that sounds great actually."

"yeah??" donghyuck became much more excited, perking up in his seat. y/n flinched at the sudden enthusiasm before laughing it off.

"you're warming up to me, y/n!! i think it's time for nicknames."

y/n looked at him with furrowed brows. "what? absolutely not."

"you can call me 'hyuck' and i can call you.."

"nothing."

donghyuck frowned. "'nothing' is not a good nickname."

"will you just eat your damn lunch?"

donghyuck sighed dramatically and looked at his food, "fine."

"thank you, hyuck."

"wha- no!" donghyuck's jaw dropped while y/n smiled to himself. "no, no! not fair, you can't use hyuck if i can't use one for you!"

"okay. sorry, hyuck."

"y/nnn!.." he whined.

"eat your lunch, please."

donghyuck was about to argue again, but the smile still stretching on y/n's lips made him give in. he couldn't help but grin a little himself. he clicked his tongue as a final protest and finally began to eat.

donghyuck let out a heavy exhale as his eyes drifted to the entrance of the cafe again. he was early, waiting since 5:45 when they agreed on meeting at 6 o'clock. now he was simply just paranoid and nervous, awaiting y/n's arrival.

his fingers were fidgeting with the straw of his coffee when he finally spotted y/n walking inside. he quickly sat up straight and pretended to be immersed in the books in front of him.

"hi," y/n said quietly while sitting down across from him.

"hi!" donghyuck sounded more enthusiastic than he meant to, scowling to himself in result. but the smile that instantly grew on y/n's lips made him feel better.

before their recent interactions, donghyuck had never really seen y/n's smile. he always stayed quiet in classes and never really made a scene, something donghyuck couldn't say for himself. but donghyuck found that the more y/n smiled, the more he loved it. and whether he realized it or not, the deeper he fell.

"do you wanna go get a drink or something?" donghyuck asked as he gestured to the cafe's counter.

"i will in a little bit."

donghyuck nodded, at a loss for what to say next. he was afraid of seeming bland to y/n, especially since he wanted to get closer to him. with anyone else, donghyuck was outgoing and great at making conversation, but y/n seemed to just make his mind go blank.

"how was your day?" y/n spoke up instead.

donghyuck perked up. such a simple question, and yet it made his heart beat faster.

"it was alright. it just went by slowly."

"mine did too. i was nervous to meet here."

donghyuck looked at him with shining eyes. y/n's cheeks were the lightest shade of red, gaze averted as he got his textbook out from his bag.

"really? why?" donghyuck tried to sound as nonchalant as he could, but he wasn't sure if y/n could see through him or not.

"i just get anxious easily. especially with new people."

"ah.. well let me know if i can do anything to make you feel more comfortable."

y/n smiled again. "thanks, hyuck."

as y/n began to actually study, donghyuck couldn't tear his view away from the male. y/n was just so different from what he initially thought.

"hey, you know my friend jaemin, right?"

"oh, uh.. he's the one that sits beside you in first period right?"

"mhm!"

"then yes," y/n answered. "i mean, i don't know him, i just know who he is. why?"

"well i was thinking maybe you could come hang out with us this weekend. he wants to go to that new arcade that opened. i think a few of our other friends might come too. they'd like you."

y/n looked up from his book, now entranced by the endearing gaze from donghyuck.

"that sounds cool.. i don't think i've been to a real arcade before."

"what??"

y/n flinched again before laughing softly and nodding in confirmation.

"you have to come then, you have no choice," donghyuck announced proudly.

"alright, then. when are you guys going?"

"saturday."

"oh.." y/n's grin fell slowly, in turn making the other's heart drop. "i have plans with my friend on saturday actually. i'm sorry."

"oh, that's okay then." donghyuck looked at his drink, playing with the straw again. "which friend?"

"do you know mark?"

"ahh.. yeah, i've talked to him a couple times."

"he's pretty much the only friend i spend time with outside of school."

"so do you like, have anything more with him?"

y/n looked at him a little confused.

"what d'you mean?"

"like, more than friends." donghyuck's voice had grown softer the more he spoke. he felt embarrassed asking such questions, but his curiosity outweighed his embarrassment.

"oh. no, i don't really feel that way about him. i'm pretty sure he's straight anyways," y/n replied.

"ew."

"i know, right."

a soft exchange of laughter sounded at their table. y/n didn't even know donghyuck was into guys, but it was nice to know now.

"wait, why do you ask though," y/n quickly realized. donghyuck quieted down at this.

"..just curious about you."

y/n blinked. "curious?"

"yeah. i wanna be closer with you, if that's okay," the other responded happily. y/n looked back down at his book, hiding his stubborn smile.

"mhm, that's okay," he answered while nodding slowly. after bringing himself to look back up at donghyuck, he saw that the male was still gazing right back at him, refusing to budge.

y/n's heart jumped when donghyuck's eyes shifted down to his lips for just a second. he couldn't tell if he was seeing things or if donghyuck was really considering kissing him. it had to be the former.

"we should actually get to studying now.." y/n croaked out. he silently cursed at himself for the way his voice shuttered, and for the way it made donghyuck smile before nodding along.

"right," donghyuck agreed as he went back to his own textbook.

it was quiet between them for a couple minutes. y/n soon reached into his bag and pulled out the heavy fabric of donghyuck's coat.

"oh, also.. i brought your jacket back."

donghyuck's eyes widened a bit. if he was honest, he'd kind of hoped that y/n would keep it. maybe wear it outside, or even just in his bedroom when he wanted to feel some comfort. it made donghyuck's chest feel fuzzy to imagine y/n in his clothing.

"oh, right.." he began to take it, but decided to stop, "actually, that's okay. you can hold onto it."

"what?"

"in case you get rained on again. i have too many jackets anyways. might as well give one away."

y/n nodded, unsure of what to say. he tucked the coat into his arms and sat back in his seat. he was a little confused. donghyuck had no reason to be this nice to him, especially when he hated him so much before.

"why did you say hyuck instead of haechan?" y/n asked suddenly.

"huh?"

"you told me to call you hyuck earlier. as your nickname."

donghyuck twisted the pencil in his hand as he thought of a good answer.

"mm.. everyone calls me haechan."

"..so?"

"..so you're not everyone," donghyuck explained, quickly going back to his school work.

y/n felt heat rush through his body. did he hear that right? he was practically just staring at donghyuck now, as if waiting for him to correct himself or add something mean. but the male just sat, eyes going between his different books, occasionally writing something down or taking a drink of his coffee.

y/n smiled softly. he tightened his hold on the jacket still in his arms, took a deep breath, and finally returned to his own school work.

[mymanyfandomramblings]

Mabel's perspective in Sock Opera is equally, if not more sympathetic than Dipper's: An Essay

Most people generally wouldn't consider Mabel to have a terribly sympathetic plotline in Sock Opera, even those of us who don't necessarily feel that she's horribly selfish. I think that's because, from a narrative perspective, her plotline is (as it so often is) shafted in favour of Dipper's, and from a viewer's perspective, Dipper's makes more sense. We, as viewers want to know who the author is. We, as viewers, know that Gabe is inevitably going to turn out to be some variety of impossible, and we know that the Author of the Journals is a major mystery. However, from Mabel's perspective, none of this is true, because she doesn't have the luxury of knowing she is in a TV show. Even if you take out Gabe, her perspective still makes perfect sense.

At the beginning of summer, Dipper found this journal, and Mabel has generally been pretty happy to go along with his adventures as the journal has led them, but it's clear she doesn't have the same degree of fascination with it. Maybe she may have been a little intrigued by who the Author is, she's probably a bit curious, but not to the same extent. By the time of Sock Opera, she's probably reasonably ready for the Journal fixation to be over, considering that they nearly all got killed by a shapeshifter trying to find the author. She knows that trying to investigate the author is dangerous--Stan warned them away from the supernatural, they've all nearly died multiple times, but Dipper cannot be stopped. And now Dipper has decided to spend hours and hours and hours, forgoing sleep, sitting in front of a screen, typing in passwords. The fact that Mabel tries to drag him away from it is a good thing--anyone with a relative who spends excessive amounts of time in front of a computer can tell you that. Generally, having someone close to you become deeply fixated to the point of obsession with anything can be challenging, however in Mabel's case, Dipper has become obsessed to the point of prioritising getting into the laptop above anything, and this isn't just a regular hyperfixation: this is a hyperfixation that has nearly gotten them both (plus their loved ones) nearly killed multiple times in the last few weeks. It's absolutely the responsible, good thing for Mabel to do to not enable that behaviour.

And then if you add the puppet show back into the equation, then yes, it is kind of ridiculous of Mabel to put on a whole show of that kind of magnitude just for a boy (regardless of whether the boy deserves it), however, as viewers we must accept that this is, in fact, thoroughly within character for Mabel, who is kind of ridiculous. Any kind of production of that size is a huge commitment, especially if you've given yourself a week to work, and I'm not remotely bothered by the fact that Mabel has to get everyone involved on this. And to Mabel's credit, she does try to help Dipper as soon as he appears to her in puppet form, she just isn't immediately willing to stop the show. Back in high school, my drama class did a play that I mostly wrote, mostly managed and also had a small acting role in (yes, I was an overachiever in drama), and let me tell you, it would have taken a lot to have gotten me to call off the show halfway through, much less publicly sabotage it. A demon threatening the lives of one of my siblings? Probably yes. That probably would have done it. And Mabel does allow the thing that she poured blood, sweat and tears into to go literally up in flames in front of everyone, once she realises that's what she has to do (and personally, I don't think that there's anything wrong with not immediately being willing to drop everything for this. It's not like Dipper doesn't dig in his heels about doing what's best until the very last possible second). I don't know why people insist it's not 'technically a sacrifice', because while, yes, obviously Dipper's life was more important, and she 100% made the right choice, it's not easy to wreck something you worked hard on in front of people.

All this is to say that although it's easy to become irritated at Mabel during this episode because she's hindering Dipper's ability to figure out who the author is, it's also very easy not to realise that she has a thoroughly reasonable perspective, simply because the narrative puts greater emphasis and attention of Dipper's perspective.

[plzu]

Hot Chai - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part 8 <- ☕︎ series masterlist ☕︎ ao3

a/n: happy new year! this fic is almost done ♡ also i almost forgot to post this here today lol summary: Adrian is mad at Chris. You're mad at Adrian. Goff gets loose. It's a whole thing. warnings: canon typical violence (chapter takes place during ep 6: Murn After Reading), no Y/N, nothing else major i don't think but lmk if i missed something word count: 5.2k

Can people be haunted by things that aren’t ghosts? Adrian wasn’t sure, but the image of your watery eyes, and hands shakily hiding your face — it haunts him.

Which sounds excessive. After all, how could you haunt him? You were very much alive. But if hauntings make people uncomfortable, makes it hard to sleep, and makes dread sit with the weight of a sandbag on their chests, then maybe it was accurate. Because nothing has bothered him quite this much since - well. There was the shame he felt at failing to kill Chris's racist dirtbag father, and the potential consequences this failure could lead to. But he got over that fairly quickly. After all, it's not Adrian's fault Peacemaker has a shitty dad.

But you — your eyes dimming when he told you about the threesome. The way your face twisted into something that made his world halt to an unsteadying stop, like the nauseating swaying of a boat at sea. The way your hands hid the stricken sadness from him, too late in hiding the pain.

Because of him. He did that. He didn't mean to, didn't realize he'd say something that could upset you, but still. It was his fault.

Crying generally made Adrian uncomfortable because he had a difficult time empathizing. He doesn't cry, not since he was little. Guts once told him it's because he doesn't have feelings like people do. So he never knew what to do if someone cried around him. It weirded him out, to be honest. He wasn't much good at providing comfort, tended to say the wrong things. And his hands. God, he never really knew what to do with them in those situations, became hyper-aware that he even had hands in the first place. Hands good at killing, but useless in comfort.

He hasn't made someone cry since high school.

Scratch that. He makes grown men cry, like, all the time. Usually accompanied by them pissing their pants because they're terrified Vigilante is going to kill them. (Spoiler alert: he does!)

Like one of the guys in the alleyway downtown, that he saved you from. The one that tried crawling away after Vigilante shot his knees. Weeping and wailing and cowering.

But that's different, obviously. Tears and sobs fueled by fear.

The last time he made someone cry because he hurt their feelings, though, that was definitely high school. Made someone cry because he was just being an asshole. Even if he didn't realize it.

It was eventually explained to him that some people are just weirdly sensitive, so you really didn’t have to try that hard to hurt them. Some people just had emotions like the skin of a too-ripe fruit.

He didn’t think you were one of those people. He never saw you cry in high school, and he definitely would have noticed if you had. Adrian was perceptive like that. ‘Specially with you. I mean, sure, you cried in the alleyway and again in his bedroom but the alleyway tears had to have been from fear like that other guy before he shot his brains out, and then the bedroom tears were from, like, residual fear, he thinks. Not because your feelings were hurt.

But then he told you about the threesome, and the mood shift swept across your face like a fissure, and it was just like when he’d made that girl in high school cry, except worse. Because it was you. You, the person he's been quietly fixated on since, like, the 10th grade. The only other person whose lips he fantasizes about -- either pressed against his, or curved in a smile.

He only ever wanted to make you smile. To laugh. It’s the very sound that drew him to you in the first place.

Instead, he made those pretty lips of your warble and twist into the shape of pain.

He should have listened to you, should have let you drag him to the restroom and take off his mask and shove your bodies together. Because then you would have taken his breath away and, with it, all his thoughts. Because that threesome with Chris pales in comparison to the feel of you touching him.

The memory of the threesome warps his emotions into anger and annoyance. Why the fuck did he follow Chris back into his trailer to bang some chick he didn't even know?

Adrian stands at the front (and only) door of Chris' trailer now. They were off today, no assignments from the Task Force. No Fennel Fields shift for Adrian. Today would have been the perfect day to finally, finally hang out with you, no Vigilante business to get in the way. But if his unanswered text messages are anything to go by, you don't want to see him.

And why would you? He made you cry.

Adrian knocks, and whatever frustrations that spurred him to Chris's place is momentarily put on hold when he hears Chris answer, 'Come in, Adrian' without even coming to the door. Adrian walks into the trailer, impressed despite his annoyance as he closes the door behind him and asks, “how did you know it was me?” to the welcoming back of Chris’s head.

“You knock in a very annoying way.” Chris didn't even turn around to look at him when he said it.

“Oh.” Ouch. Rude.

Adrian opens his mouth to apologize, as he usually does whenever people point out he's being unintentionally annoying, but something about Chris's tone kind of ticks him off. Instead, Adrian says, “well, maybe I didn't realize how annoying my knock was because I was distracted by your bad advice.”

This seems to get the other man's attention. In an irritated and confused huff, Chris asks, “dude, what the fuck are you talking about?” as he turns to face him.

“You convinced me to bang that underappreciated chick with you and now they're mad at me.”

This only confuses Chris more. “Amber's mad at you? Why would she be mad at you?” His face sobers into upset understanding. “Dude, did you give her a fucking STD!? You said you were clean! Great, now I have to get checked. I was just at the hospital, man, I don't have time for this.”

“No! I don't have an STD, I'm not talking about her! I mean my- the barista I've been telling you about!”

Chris rolls his eyes, annoyance rolling off of those huge shoulders of his. He just turns back around in his seat.

Adrian's fists clench at his sides at the action. This conversation is far from over-

Small tapping sounds grab his attention. Adrian looks over and sees the alien thing that flew out of the Senator's face sitting in a mason jar with holes poked into the top. “Dude, you still have that thing?”

“Yeah,” Chris confirms without looking back.

Goff makes squeaky noises inside its glass cage. Its little blue and white bug-like body, long-limbed, strangely animated. It doesn't move or act like any bug Adrian's ever seen (at least, not in Evergreen). There's an awareness about itself that clearly indicates some enhanced intelligence.

“He tried to kill us,” Adrian reminds Chris, “and he cut off half my toe.”

He's still a little sore about that, if he's being honest. Currently he's sore about a lot of things.

“Yeah,” Chris says, sounding weirdly detached, distracted. “Sometimes I just think I'm insecure about my masculinity and I'm making up for it by having a dangerous pet.” He says this all in one breath.

His words only confuse and, honestly, slightly upsets Adrian as Chris continues, comparing himself to 'knuckle-dicks in Georgia.’

Peacemaker has not been the same since he got out of Belle Reve. Yeah, he's still the same solid mass of muscle. He's still a giant jerk that says the funniest, meanest things. He can still kick ass, still sharp with a gun and never misses his targets. But now there are moments where he struggles to pull the trigger.

The wavering lately is worrying, to say the least. Maybe even disappointing. 

“Dude, my advice?” Adrian offers. “Cut it out with the introspection. The mind is a den of scorpions better left running from instead of towards.”

He should know. Adrian spent most of his childhood trying to analyze those metaphorical scorpions until he decided it was easier to ignore them completely. But things have been kind of rocky, lately, and Adrian has been finding himself taking a peek now and again. Something about both you and Peacemaker being back in Evergreen at the same time is kind of shaking up his foundation.

Chittering and tapping noises from Goff's mason jar grabs Adrian's attention again. “What is Goff doing?”

Chris spins around in his chair and they both watch as Goff uses whatever weird goop he's sitting in to draw a circle on the glass. Then he abruptly stands and grabs the mason jar in his gloved hands. When he holds it up to the cool, gray light filtering in through the skylight, they’re met with a droopy symbol of peace.

Sitting on Peacemaker’s couch, both men grow increasingly frustrated, but not for the same reason.

Seeing as Goff is attempting to communicate with them, Chris sets them up in his living room, Goff's mason jar on the coffee table, with a few rules for interrogation. There is, obviously, a language barrier, but the alien can understand English just fine.

Adrian is upset about how difficult the rules are to follow. Chris, for whatever reason, finds his confusion unreasonable. Sticking to 'yes' and 'no' questions isn't that easy, especially when Adrian has been finding it incredibly difficult to focus since last night, when he left you to cry all alone in the cafe.

Chris's impatience with him is just making Adrian even more frazzled. Usually he can deal with Peacemaker's snapping. He didn't always understand what he'd done to get yelled at, but it usually blew over.

This time, though, Adrian is finding that he is equally mad at Chris. So when Chris shouts that maybe Adrian should shut the fuck up, Adrian shouts back.

“I see how you are! Your preferred conversation partners are Eagly and Goff! Neither of who are capable of speech. Try introspection on that, motherfucker!”

Chris, for once, does not have an immediate comeback.

Adrian takes in a big, steadying breath, feeling the angry warmth on his cheeks and trying to dispel it. An apology sits at the back of his throat, rising up out of simple habit, but an image of your face -- usually all smiles and twinkling eyes -- flashes in his mind. Tear-stricken.

It's enough to force the apology back down.

Turns out, Adrian doesn't even have to apologize because Chris says he's right (I mean, he knew that already; those words didn't explode out of him out of nowhere), and continues in a tone that is unusually soft and quiet and reflective.

Adrian interrupts. Chris yells. This interrogation is going nowhere.

Adrian, having gotten the hang of the whole 'yes' or 'no' question rule, asks Goff, “would you tell your buddy it's okay to sleep with other people despite him having someone he already really likes?”

Chris yells again. “Dude, what the FUCK are you talking about? How is that relevant to an alien invasion?”

They're interrupted by a phone call, Aqua's Barbie Girl ringing clearly from Adrian's back pocket. Adrian rushes to fish his phone out, hoping very badly that it's you.

It wasn't you.

Adrian and Chris are up in the trees, hiding from the cops that are now tearing Peacemaker's trailer apart. The cops that Murn called to warn about, telling them to get the fuck out of dodge. Goff is strapped to Adrian's back, a brilliant move on his part to free up his hands.

Brilliant, until Adrian falls from the tree flat on his back, where one of the cops is looking for them. But that's not as concerning as the mason jar shattering, freeing Goff.

“Oh, shit.”

Goff shakes off the fall and flaps hurriedly towards the detective, who has her gun out and pointed at Adrian on the ground. Adrian’s less concerned about that and more concerned about what Goff’s next move is gonna be. 

Chris lands beside him and both men watch in horror and fascination as the alien flies directly at the detective's face, making her fall flat on her back as Goff starts burrowing into her mouth. The move is quick and aggressive and the detective struggles and fails to rip it out of her.

They rush to her side as blood erupts from her mouth, decorating the side of her face crimson as her body begins to convulse. There is nothing they can do but run once they hear another cop round the corner of the trailer and alerts everyone else to their position.

Adrian throws Chris's cell phone outside of the car window on their way to meet the rest of the team at the abandoned video store they've been operating from.

He says he did it to keep them safe, which is mostly true. They can track them through the phone, you know? When Chris angrily advises that his phone was secure and untraceable, and that now a bunch of Eagly pictures are gone, Adrian can only bring himself to be a little regretful. 

Adrian is finding something grimly pleasant about indirectly hurting Chris like this. Something scratching a weird itch in the back of his thoughts. It's similar to when he'd throw dynamites at the other man in retaliation for being almost blown up himself. But that was all in good fun. Just guys being dudes, entertaining each other with violence. Real macho-like shenanigans.

No, this was different. Adrian got some sort of satisfaction from tossing Chris's phone out of a moving vehicle right now because he's... more mad at him than he thinks he’s ever been.

And it's not because the hero he's looked up to has been weirdly introspective lately about the usual way they've handled criminals. That was more irritating than anything. It’s a lot easier to go through life without agonizing the lives you’ve taken; surely he can remind Peacemaker of that again.

No. Adrian is mad at Chris because he blames him for hurting your feelings.

“Thank you, by the way.” Chris sends him a quick, confused glance. “For telling me I could bang whoever I wanted. Real solid advice, bro.”

Chris furrows his brow. “What the fuck- why do you keep bringing up the threesome?”

“Because! If it weren't for you, I never would have made them cry!”

“Why the fuck would you tell someone you like that you had a threesome!?”

“You said it was okay!”

It's all Chris can do to keep from ripping the steering wheel off of this car and beating Vigilante with it.

Their argument evolved into weird hypotheticals by the time they stormed through the doors of the video store, but gets (thankfully) interrupted by the mean blonde — Harcourt.

“Hey! Do you have a diary?”

“No,” Chris half-shouts, voice still carrying the weight of whatever shouting match he was in the middle of having with Adrian.

Adrian holds the door open for Eagly to waddle through. Whatever qualms he has with Chris right now, the bird has nothing to do with it. Eagly is chill. Adrian's not gonna be rude and just not hold the door for him.

The conversation between Chris and everyone gets more heated once Chris reveals that Goff is now free. The team doesn't react well to this, which is probably why Chris kept it a secret up til this point.

“Yeah, we kept Goff,” Adrian clarifies in answer to Harcourt's exclamation.

“You kept Goff!?” Murn shouts incredulously. Eyes wide in angry disbelief. Like he doesn't want what he's hearing to be true.

“Because Peacemaker has masculinity issues,” Adrian explains. His lips quirk into a smirk that has absolutely no joy in it. “Probably the same masculinity issues that convinces your BFF — sorry, second BFF — to join you in a threesome even though it'll hurt that BFF's friend's feelings to do so.”

This makes Chris groan in frustration. “Vigilante! Time and place!”

“What the fuck is he talking about?” Harcourt asks, exasperated.

“He's all pissy because he told this chick he's been seeing about our threesome.”

Someone says 'ew' under their breath.

“He told me I could bang whoever I wanted despite knowing about the person I like!” Adrian can't keep the whine out of his voice.

Adebayo speaks up, addressing Chris. “You encouraged him to sleep around even though he's seeing someone?”

“He said they weren't exclusive!” It kind of feels like Peacemaker hasn't stopped yelling since Adrian stepped foot in his trailer.

“Still,” Adebayo says. “He's, like, obsessed with you and he'll do whatever you say.”

(“Hey!” Adrian exclaims. That's offensive, probably! Regardless of whether or not it's true!)

“He's a grown man,” Harcourt interjects. “He should be able to make his own decisions and not blame it on Peacemaker.”

Chris gestures a massive arm out to Harcourt, saying “Thank you!” at the same time as Economos says, “Someone likes Vigilante romantically?”

“That's enough!” Murn sternly shouts, silencing the room. “Where is Goff now?”

They explain how Goff took over one of the cops - the Asian woman.

Fury and disappointment reverberate off of Murn. “God damn it, Peacemaker.”

You don't know why you let it break your heart. Why you let it keep you up most of the night, curled wretchedly into yourself, weeping in tumultuous silence into your pillow.

Adrian Chase, the guy you got unnecessarily and hopelessly attached to, coolly admitted to having had a threesome. There was no tiptoeing around it, either. No hesitation before saying the words that casually ripped your heart out from your chest.

It really should not have hurt you the way it did. Hell, if he had said anything about sleeping with someone else just a few weeks ago, it would only have mildly annoyed you at best. Perhaps made you a tad bit insecure, but you would have shrugged it off.

But things have been slowly crumbling around you ever since that night your old high school friends ghosted you--

No. That's not true. Your life was falling apart well before that. It's why you came back to Evergreen in the first place. But Adrian showed up and made things momentarily steady. A patchwork preventing the further collapse of your mental fortitude.

But then you found out his secret, and he suddenly had no time for you. And before you could fully make peace with the fact that Adrian Chase -- the dorky weirdo from high school -- is Evergreen's infamous Vigilante, Peacemaker came back and you were no longer the center of Adrian's attention.

Which you are ashamed to admit stung.

And as if that wasn't enough, things at home have been so off and confusing. It's a different kind of nervous than what you're used to, walking through the halls of the strangely quiet house. You could always feel their presence, at home -- your mother's more specifically. You've always been attuned to her, some kind of survival instinct so you know when to avoid her. And you have to finally admit that there's a very vacant gap in the house, and you know it's because your mother has not been around to fill it.

This has caused a very antsy mood shift with your dad, one that would make you anxious if it weren't for the fact that his focus is no longer on you. It's on your mother's absence.

This should worry you.

The confusing part is that your stomach is not twisted in knots over the idea that she hasn't been home. You don't bother asking your dad about it when you see him sitting zombie-like in the living room late at night.

(You tend to avoid asking questions when you're afraid of the answer.)

(Hence why you never questioned Adrian when he'd tell you some unprompted lie.)

Truth be told, you can't help but to feel tentatively euphoric. It's one less thing suffocating you at home. Like the weight of a boot lightly lifted from standing on your neck.

You're about to head out to work earlier than usual—you've had free reign of the house since you woke up because even your dad wasn't home that morning, and it was nice until it got eerie—but just as you approach the front door, it swings open.

Your dad stands at the threshold, silhouetted by the light at his back. When you blink and adjust your vision to the sudden daylight that's poured in, you're startled by the unkempt figure walking through the doorway. It's your dad, yes, but in a way you can barely recognize. He looks rough and unkempt, facial hair growing in unruly patches around his mouth. The bags under his eyes suggest he hasn't had much sleep. It's like he's aged 10 years.

“Hey...” He says, but it's hardly a greeting. He barely even looks at you. Mostly, it's like he's looking through you. “Have you, by any chance, heard from your mother?” He shuffles past you in the hallway, not waiting for an answer. Probably not even really expecting one.

You watch the exhausted shape of his back. You feel weirdly guilty when you answer no.

An empty sort of exhale depletes out of him, and it's the only sound of acknowledgement. He doesn't ask anymore questions, doesn't say anything else.

So you leave.   You walk into the cafe half an hour before your shift starts, just in time to hear Matty's vivacious voice call out a 'small hot chai for the tall hot guy.' He's fully ready to flirt with the customer as he hands off the drink, but does a double-take when he sees you slink around the counter and to the back.

Matty's flirty smile slips into a frown as he shares a look with Ashe, who also noticed your sluggish arrival.

The two ambush you as you very poorly tie an apron around your waist. It's Matty who speaks first. “You look absolutely terrible.”

You drag your still-puffy eyes to look at him, unsmiling. “Oh, Matty. Truly, my favorite thing about you is your penchant for unprompted insults.”

Matty just rolls his eyes at your deadpanned sarcasm. Ashe steps in to try to amend his rude comments. “What he means is-” Ashe takes in the sight of your sob-swollen eyelids and chapped lips and crooked disarray of your shirt collar. “-wow, God, no, yeah, you do look terrible.”

You scowl. “Do you two have to be back here? Someone needs to be on the floor.”

“There are, like, two other baristas out there.” Matty quirks a perfect eyebrow at you. “Other people work here, you know. It's not just us three.”

You squint your eyes at him, like that can't possibly be true, but say nothing further on the subject.

As you fix the collar around your neck, Matty asks, “So? Are you gonna tell us why you've been crying or do we gotta pry it out of you?”

“Is this about Adrian?” Ashe's voice is soft with knowing and caution.

You avoid eye contact. “He told me he slept with someone else. Two someone elses, actually. At the same time.”

You squeeze past the two other baristas and start making your way out onto the floor. They give each other a look before following.

“So the man had a threesome,” Matty clarifies, less as a question and more matter-of-factly. And completely uncaring whether the customers in cafe hear his indecent statement. “Ugh, of course that weirdo is having threesomes. I could tell just by looking at him that his dick game is insane.”

“Matty,” Ashe hisses as they give him a light backhand on his shoulder. Then, louder, calls out your name. “So you're upset he slept with someone-”

“Two someones,” you interrupt, face otherwise unphased by anything that's been said so far as you clock in at the register.

(“Again, that's just called a threesome, babes,” Matty helpfully quips as he rubs the spot where Ashe smacked.)

“Right, sure-” Ashe says. “And this was something Adrian was hiding from you?”

You grit your teeth as you float right past the two again, towards the log book the shift supervisors use that's open to today's date. Huh, look at that. There are names scribbled here besides Ashe's and Matty's. “He just told me about it, like it was a cool fun fact.”

A customer approaches the register, keeping Matty from accompanying Ashe as they follow you back.

“I'm sorry he hurt you, but...” your mouth sets into a grim line at Ashe's 'but', still unwilling to look up at them. “didn't you tell me just a few nights ago that you guys aren't even together?”

“Yeah, but...”

But he made you feel like you were singularly special. An illusion that quickly shattered at his admittance to sleeping with this Peacemaker guy. Honestly, it probably would have hurt less if it had been some nameless bimbo desperate for Vigilante's attention. No history and less intimacy.

Ashe waits patiently as you sort through your thoughts, until your shoulders slump with resignation, unable to find the right words to defend yourself.

“I get it,” they say. “I get that it hurts, but it's not exactly fair to him or to you if you haven't told him what you want.”

Ashe is right. It was wrong of you to assume you'd have Adrian's sole attention forever. You just hoped that it would last long enough until you got the hell out of Evergreen.

Oof. When did you become so selfish?

Eyes softening, you finally give Ashe a grateful look. “How are you so wise? You're, like, twelve.”

Ashe smiles. “You make it really hard to want to help you sometimes.”

You once again find yourself alone in the cafe at the end of the night. Matty had stayed an hour past their shift just to absorb all the juicy bits of gossip, catching up on yours and Ashe's conversation. He also offered up a few encouraging words, in his own Matty way.

(“If you don't tie that delicious four-eyes down, I will,” he said, giving you a very pointed look.)

Ashe, once again, insisted on staying late with you.

(“If you can clock in early, then I can clock out late, no?”)

You only smiled and shook your head and told Ashe you were fine, really. It lacked the usual desperation, though, the one that tinged your voice with hopes of Adrian stopping by. This time, you convinced Ashe to leave by telling them you really wanted the time alone to think while also keeping your hands busy. So they left with less worry than usual this time.

You received several texts from Adrian earlier today, and you think about how you ignored all of them as you finish counting out the till. They're all unopened, having only caught glimpses of the texts as they appeared as previews on your still-cracked lockscreen.

The first text was an apology that only made you scowl. At the time, you doubted he meant it, or knew what he was even apologizing for considering last night, he only seemed confused by your hurt reaction.

Then there was the text you scoffed out, where he stated he was off today and could meet up, presumably to talk. If you have to see him in that stupid fucking mask again without seeing his stupid fucking face, you think you might actually scream until both your heads pop.

Now, as you lock up the safe, you think that maybe talking wouldn't be a bad idea. Maybe not the best idea, given your fragile emotional state. You really don't trust yourself not to cry more and Adrian's been no good with tears and you don't want to make him uncomfortable (though that should be the least of your worries).

And even worse than whatever it is Adrian has to say (I mean, what more could the man say? Mentioning the threesome was enough, you don't need to hear about they why or the how or the what went in who's hole-)

-Even worse than whatever else Adrian could possibly say is whatever you need to say. Speak out loud and make yourself more vulnerable than when he has you in the backseat of his Sebring with his mouth against your neck. Relinquish whatever remains of your pride as you put the power in his hands, lay bare the fragile beating of your heart and admit how much you cannot stand to be without him. How terrifying the thought that he might not feel the same, now that his real best friend is back in the picture. 

The feelings whirl in your gut all nauseating and you grimace. You hate confessing. To give someone else the chance to hurt you. It goes against your self-preservation instincts.

As the song playing on the store speakers quietly peters to end and transitions to the next track, you hear a noise coming somewhere from the back. You pause, straining your ears to try to listen as the music continues playing. You want very badly to play it off as just your imagination, but you're the only one in the store; after the things you have been through recently, it would be unwise to shrug it off without investigating.

Unwilling to venture into the back just yet, you simply stand from your spot at the safe and lean backwards, gazing into the parts of the backroom you could see, and-

Huh. That's strange. The backdoor is opened a crack. You're sure you closed it after running out the last bit of garbage, but it's hard to trust your own memory when you've been so distracted thinking about Adrian Chase and Feelings.

You steel yourself, blowing out a forceful bit of air through your nose and begin to make your way to the back. It could have just been some critter dumpster diving that made the noise, audible simply because the door wasn't fully closed. You close the door, making sure it clicks firmly shut.

As you turn back around, you discover you are not alone in the store after all.

They're still at the video store/base when an announcement reveals on the t.v. that Peacemaker is wanted, due to evidence found in a diary that Chris says isn't his. It's Goff on the podium, and, distressingly, the tall guy from the woods stands next to her, the one that killed those cops and helped him and Vigilante escape.

It looks like they got him, too. He has a face that looks like its skin is stretched too taut over his skull, so maybe it's fitting that he's joined the bad guys, since he already looks the part.

Vigilante's phone buzzes with a text alert, and it makes him forget the tension in the air for a moment. Only one person would be hitting him up at this hour. Maybe you're finally returning his texts!

Sure enough, it's your name on the screen he sees when he fishes out his phone, and his face almost breaks out into a grin. But when he unlocks it, he is greeted with a picture that makes the excited fluttering of his heart freeze and the smile immediately drops from his face.

You're in the cafe, in your work clothes, tied up to one of the wooden cafe chairs. Head lolled to the side, resting uncomfortably on your right shoulder, clearly (and upsettingly) unconscious.

Another text comes in:

If you care for them, you will bring Peacemaker.

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[bradshawssugarbaby]

Could you do, "They told me you left." With captain syverson, please? ❤️

of course babe! xo

You heard a deep, gruff sounding Southern accent drawl out your name, causing you to spin around on your heels, turning to face the man the voice belonged to. You raised an eyebrow upon realizing it was Luke Syverson, the last person you ever expected to see here. "They told me you left. Yesterday morning, actually," you said softly, your eyes fixated on him, committing his face to memory in case this impromptu reunion is the last of its kind. "I did, sort of," Luke nodded, taking his sunglasses off and resting them atop his head. He looked around outside, frowning as he noticed the expression on your face, "I figured you'd be happy to see me though." "I would be under any normal circumstances, but the fact that you're not on the plane to Iraq right now tells me either something is wrong, or you didn't get medical clearance to go back over." "Something is wrong, I'll give ya that much." "Care on sharing it with the rest of the class, Luke? Or just gonna keep it to yourself and let me guess?" Luke's lips curled up into a mischievous grin. He shook his head with laughter as he looked at you, his blue eyes meeting your gaze for a split second before breaking contact. He shrugged his large, burly shoulders before continuing. "I mean, it's not like anyone's gonna die over it serious. Just...I needed to tell ya something." "I'm listening." "Look, Sugar, I like you. I don't tend to like too many people, I'm sure everyone's told ya. But, I like you. I don't go handin' out nicknames to just anyone. I've been callin' ya Sugar for months now. Don't ya think that means somethin'?" "It means you like me enough to give me a pet name, so what? My best friend and I call each other "babe" all the time." Luke let out a frustrated, strangled sounding groan as he shook his head again. He held out his large hands in front of him, gesturing for you to stop for a moment so he could recollect his thoughts. "Let me try again, ok? I like ya, Sugar. I want to see where things go for us. I managed to extend my leave by a few weeks. I'm not needed over there just yet, and when I found out, the first thing I wanted to do was see ya, see that pretty lil' face of yours and hold ya close, that kinda thing. That's not how I normally am with people, you know?" "Luke, are you trying to ask me out?" "Trying and not succeeding, yeah." "Yes." "Yes?" Luke raised an eyebrow in confusion, "Sugar, I'm not following ya." "Yes, I'll go out with you, Luke," you said with a laugh, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down for a kiss. Luke wrapped his strong arms around you tightly, his lips finding yours in a hungry, passionate kiss. His beard tickled your lip as your tongues became entangled with one another, the fiery heat between the two of you burning brighter and hotter with every passing second. You'd been wanting this, longing for it and dreaming of it for weeks since you were introduced to him by a mutual friend at a barbecue earlier this summer.

Luke had come home on leave, and not having a family to come home to, his high school best friend, who had married your own best friend while Luke was deployed overseas, had invited the two of you over for dinner one night. Drinks were shared, stories told, and sparks flew instantly. Luke, to his credit, had been nervous about starting anything with someone, unsure how long of a stay stateside he'd get to have before being called back. However, the chemistry between you both was too much for anyone to deny. You'd let him go, not wanting to create issues for him while he was away, but knowing that you'd spend every day waiting for a friendly teasing email from him, signed off with a flirty little salutation at the end. Now, however, Luke was yours. You had a few weeks to prepare yourself before seeing him off, but, you knew that you'd savour every moment together - making it impossible this time for either of you to leave without needing to say goodbye.