#what if i imagined us hand in hand under an umbrella thanks to your sweet voice and the rain drops in the background

[hyunpic]

hyunjin on bubble: sorry… i was going to let you hear the sound of the rain so i tried to open the voice message but i mistakenly clicked the live. i didn’t even know there’s a live here. i was so surprised i turned my phone off and on

[dearharriet]

American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

[bettysupremacy]

gahh im excited???!!

could i request a prompt with poly!marauders and reader at the beach? Helping each other put on sunblock (which by the way is adorable AND hot lol) after they settle down on the beach. I feel like one of the boys would try to make it all sexy or flirt or whatever but reader is super adamant about the how important sunscreen is (being sunburnt, cancer, ext.). EVEN if remus is only planning on lazing around under the shade of the umbrella with a book, reader WILL slather him in sunblock as well. Nobody is safe LMFAO

I am such a sunscreen girlie, you can't catch me outside without it on ;)

thank uu!!

-🫀

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

Bringing the boys to your childhood home was exactly what you’d imagined.

You’ve spent your time walking around the town, eating fried clams, and sipping lemonade. You’d find shade from the sun and sit with the boys, sharing the food clumsily. Remus would find a bookshop, Sirius would gravitate towards the music, and sweet James is content wherever you are. Though, he does like football night.

You’d bring sandwiches your mother made and sticky treats to eat on the sand of the beach, running into the sea and letting the waves crash over you. James is more fond of the ocean than the other boys, though they indulge you as well.

It feels nice bringing them a slice of your childhood here. Showing them where you spent your summers away from school with them, where little you scraped her knees and had her first kiss. The ice cream shop you used to sit in and the stretch of beach you’d unconsciously reserved as yours.

You sit on that stretch of beach peacefully with them now. Well, as peacefully as you can with them. You’re fussing, as Sirius puts it, over their physical wellbeing that they’re perfectly capable of protecting themselves. Whatever.

“Fuck,” Sirius gripes behind you. He’s dropped a tomato slice in the sand. You ignore him.

“You need to protect yourselves.” you ‘fuss.’ “Your skin is vulnerable.”

You’re reminiscent of your mother’s words growing up as you kneed in the sunscreen into James’ freckled back. He’s broad shouldered in front of you. Sun kissed, tan, and proud. He sucks juice out of a caprisun pouch loudly.

“If anything,” James puts in cheekily. “We need protection from you.”

"Y/N sunscreen," Remus hums, his eyes focused on his book. He lies on his stomach with his back directly under the blazing sun. You cringe, moving over to him with a warming a glob of sunblock in your hand before applying it messily over his back.

"What does that mean?"

Sirius laughs. “Cause you’re so hot.”

"Oh," you murmur, feeling warm under the sun's heat. That's the only reason.

Sirius sets aside his sandwich, leaning over Remus to kiss you. He tastes like sandwich and coke. Tomato and fresh burrata.

"It's not so much that the sun is hot," you explain as he pulls away. "It's more that your skin can't handle the ultraviolet radiation.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.” Sirius grins. Remus laughs from under you, his chest rumbling sweetly.

“You guys.” You whine.

"Stop," James murmurs lovingly, focused on undoing the parchment paper of his own sandwich. "She's flustered.”

“I’m not flustered.”

The waves crash behind you. They’re so loud and large this time of day, you’re surprised James is still here nursing a sandwich in small bites instead of running against the water with the board he found in your attic. You’d gone up there on the first day looking for things to busy yourselves with when he’d seen it tucked away in the corner. Remus had found scrabble and Sirius had refused to go into the ‘dust bunny room’. It was bad for his hair.

He’s is your next victim now. You crawl over to him, gripping his strong shoulders. “Getting freaky in public?” He asks.

“Protecting you from skin cancer.” You grab the bottle. “In public.”

“I’m turned on.” Sirius cheeks, peeking behind to look at you.

You laugh loud, startled. “Shut up.”

[dangerousduckcloud]

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“I feel bad, now.” That most certainly was not what Dick was expecting, brows furrowed and blinking. “What for?” “I tried to stab you… Or well, wanted to.”

Chapter 10 < > Chapter 12

Masterlist

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog, @katrina0-0

If anyone else would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

You were scared, to say the least. The higher you went, the colder you got, specially with your clothes half-soaked due to the rain, your fingers freezing from leaving them inside a cloud as if it were a lake for too long.

Superman —Clark, he said you could call him Clark— was carrying you in his arms, granting you the freedom to extend your arm as much as you wanted without the risk of falling (that didn’t stop the need to tightly grasp his cape with your other hand). Your teeth were clacking, your body trembling, and even though Clark had asked you if you wanted to go back to the warmth of the manor, you declined, not regretting your decision for a second once the sun started to set.

Angelic was the only word you could describe the sight in front of you. Ethereal too, maybe. You now understand why heaven was always pictured to be above the clouds.

With nothing to hinder your gaze, you could see in its entirety how the golden rays shone above you, lighting up the dark, thick clouds, doing its best to traverse through the thick fog to reach the city. The light engulfed the two of you, covering you in a golden blanket that warmed your body.

Never in your life could you imagine the world could look so beautiful, never thought how hideous humanity’s existence erased the preciousness’ of nature with disgusting smog, never ending buildings, and garish billboards.

Once Clark had decided your cold clothes were too much for your body, he flew back down to the manor. Out in the garden, three figures patiently waited for your return, an open umbrella left to dry, discarded next to a bench, the rain gone for the moment.

Right after your feet landed on the grass, Alfred draped the comfiest, warmest blanket over your shoulders, quietly thanking the ever-prepared butler.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Tim said in lieu of a greeting —A Tim who should still be sleeping.

“Yeah.” Was the only thing you could say, with a beaming smile, not still out of your stupor. You felt like those two characters on that old tv show you used to watch, too stunned to speak after riding an impressive roller coaster, with the difference that you’d been higher than any human being could without the need of a plane.

“Thank you for the favor, Uncle Clark.”

“My pleasure, Dick. It was nice to meet you, Jane, but I must go home now. And don’t worry, we’ll get you home soon.”

You smiled despite the pang in your chest, thanking him once again for the extraordinary experience. You were feeling less and less hopeful every time someone reminded you of your situation, sensing they were trying to convince themselves they could do it, rather than admit the truth.

“Where’s Jason?” You asked once inside, taking off your shoes as to not dirty up the polished floors with mud.

“He went back to his place.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide your disappointment with an extremely fake sneeze. “I better go take a shower before dinner, lest I catch a cold.”

Dropping the blanket on your bed, you left your damp clothes on the hamper, a hiss escaping you when the hot stream of water hit your skin, reddening your back, not getting under the running water again until the temperature was to your liking.

Why were you disappointed every time Jason left the manor? Yes, you were aware of the ‘small’ crush you had on his character, on the portrayal people had of him, but not on him per se. He wasn’t the sweet, romantic, hopelessly in love person people made him ought to be in their stories, the short time you’d spend around him revealing, in fact, he was somewhat of an asshole, someone who was stuck in an immature mentality who dealt with their issues angrily and violently.

And wasn’t that what’d happened to him?

Cutting off the water flow, you changed into, finally, your own sleep wear, the lavender detergent Alfred uses invading your nose. You were brushing your hair in front of the mirror, attempting to get rid of all the knots that would form no matter how many hair products you used, when a knock on your door was heard, raising your voice to invite whoever was on the other side of the door.

“Hey, Jane, can I come in?”

The student in you was battling so hard to not automatically imitate all your old English teachers with ‘it’s ‘may’ I’, but you weren’t sure if Dick was familiar with that experience, so you replied with a simple “Yeah, sure.”

He sat down at the end of the bed, a small, white box in his hands. “So, did you like flying?”

“Absolutely.” You replied with a big smile, looking at him through the mirror. You’d given up on untangling your hair, content with getting most of them, and were now putting it in a ponytail. “I simply… I don’t think there’s words to put it, I felt as if I’d become an angel, bested with a sight not many were privy to. Thank you so much for making it possible.”

“I still remember the first time Uncle Clark too me flying, I’d been Robin for a year already, I believe, but I’d only met him a handful of times, Bruce wasn’t with the League yet, so there wasn’t much reason for them to meet.” There was a fond smile on his face, remembering his childhood, a chuckle from something he remembered. “Bruce tried so hard to hide it, but he was horrified, putting his arms around me as soon as we got back, as if to try and stop me from going flying again. I swear if he knew Clark had let me stand on his palms and do pirouettes, he would have a heart attack.”

“What was it like? To be a child vigilante.”

“It was the best thing that could’ve happen to eleven-year-old me. There was nothing better than to be soaring in the sky, helping those who couldn’t defend themselves, feeling the cold wind all around me, the adrenaline pumping through my veins with every goon we fought.” With every word, his tone got more and more enthusiastic, gesticulating every sentence. “And… I’ve never said this to anyone, but the fame almost got to me for a second, with all my classmates babbling about me, about how awesome it was to be Batman’s partner, to work with him and the Justice League. I wanted to be recognized, you know? To tell them right there and then it was me who was going out weekend’s nights fighting the Rogues.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. I wanted to, but I knew nothing good could come out of that; the city would take me away from my family, and Bruce would be heavily judged and sentenced. Everyone loves child vigilantes until they know who is under the mask. Praising one day, pointing with their fingers the next one.”

“Why do I feel another ‘but’ is coming?” You were facing him now, leaning against the dresser with your arms crossed.

“But…” He said, elongating the ‘u’, his melancholic energy turning into a guilty one, painful memories resurfacing. “As much as I loved it, and have so many great memories, with all my siblings… Well, I know understand why Bruce was so adamant about me going out in the beginning. Especially after Jason… I rarely spent time in the manor when he was Robin, only coming to pick him up to hang up maybe once or twice a month. I always wanted a little brother, and to have him taken away so suddenly like that… I didn’t want to get close to Tim, fearing the same would happen, but I think I hurt him more by being cold towards a kid that didn’t deserve it… Sometimes I wonder if my stubbornness and desire for revenge for my parents was the point of no return to the unfortunate events that led to all the sorrow we’ve suffered.”

“You can’t blame yourself for something you had no control over, Dick. The only one here at fault is the Joker.” You moved from the dresser, sitting down next to him on the bed. He winced at hearing that name, telling yourself you would never mention it again in the future in front the Wayne’s.

Dick nodded, sniffling and inattentively rotating the box in his hand. “Well, I—” He chuckled. “I didn’t come here to damper the night. This is for you.” He handed you the box, the seal already cut. “Alfred mentioned he wanted to buy you a phone but didn’t have time to do so with… And I assumed you wouldn’t want to go back to the mall —or the city— any time soon. I already saved all our numbers, so that you can keep in touch with Steph and Dami once they go back to school next week. I know being cooped in here all day must be so boring, so I hope it can help make the days go faster.

The phone was the most recent model, a couple of apps pre-installed, eight contacts saved on your phone, your eyes lingering on Jason’s name.

“I feel bad, now.”

That most certainly was not what Dick was expecting, brows furrowed and blinking.

“What for?”

“I tried to stab you… Or well, wanted to.”

He opened his mouth, whatever he wanted to say dying before the words could leave his lips. “Now, why would you do that?”

“I was scared!” You stood up, walking to your nightstand and pulling out the forgotten scalpel, handing it to Dick. “It was when I still thought you were a bunch of kidnappers… If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to stab you anymore.”

“Gee, that’s a relief.” Dick’s shoulders shook with mirth. “Thanks for thrusting us and giving this back.”

“Yeah, now I know your family is crazy, but for a whole different reason.” Silence befell you, Dick nodding at the accurate description of his siblings. You felt different now that you didn’t have the scalpel anymore. You felt light, free, the heavy burden of distress lifting of your shoulders. By handing it, you were giving away your only way to defend yourself, and thus, you were finally letting go any doubts you could have about them. “Hey, Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you… Can you really take me back home?”

“We’re working on it, Jane.”

You hummed, noticing he’d changed his always optimistic response to a very vague one.

———

Both you and Cass had spent most of the next morning goofing off with the phone’s camera filters, using the goofiest one’s you could find. That was until you had to hide from a furious Damian, searching for you to delete the photo you took of him with bunny ears and nose.

“That’s not fair!” You half whispered, half shouted from behind a couch. “I can’t climb that high!”

Cass smiled widely from over the rafters in the ceiling, hiding herself in the shadows when the hurrying steps were getting closer and closer. You tried to blend in yourself with the couch, calming your breathy giggles.

“Cain! Jane!” Damian hollered. “I will behead you if you do not delete that picture at this instant!”

Your muffled titter turned into full on cackling when Damian jumped from over the couch, doing his best to grab your phone, which you were holding on to for dear life. For being ten, the kid was strong.

“I surrender!” You screamed; your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. “I surrender!”

“Delete that photo, now.” Damian glowered, and you did, pulling out your phone and tilting the screen slightly for him to see you open the gallery and deleting the picture. “Tt. This better not happen again.”

Only until he left did Cass jumped from the rafters.

“Traitor.” You crossed your arms, playfully sticking out your tongue to her, to which she simply hugged you.

———

Your life had turned an eternal summer vacation. You had no responsibilities to fulfill, no school, no job, no chores, you would simply wake up and exist, sometimes helping out Alfred in the garden.

Contrary to all beliefs, it wasn’t the blessing most thought it would be, neither Cass nor Tim could spend time with you anymore, a grisly trafficking case appearing in the city a couple nights ago. Since Cass was completely committed to the mission, she was down on the cave most of the time, starting her patrol earlier than usual.

During the mornings, Tim was forced to go to W.E as the CEO now that Bruce was ‘unavailable’ with a ‘family matter’, and working down on the cave as well when he was home.

As much as you thought you’d broken down Damian’s cold demeanor, he’d reverted to his usual spoiled brat attitude, doubling it up now that school started the next day, deciding that if he was forced to be miserable, he was going to make everyone miserable.

Dick was out of planet on an emergency with the Justice League, stepping into Bruce’s place. And you hadn’t seen much of Steph since the day of the attack, she’d only visited the manor once on a bat related incident, but also preoccupied with high school.

There were not many people who could make the clock move forward, and so, you were forced —really— to one and your last resort, the black, taunting text conversation the thing you’d been contemplating more than anything this past two days, the ‘online’ status rarely lighting up throughout the day (no, you were not stalking him, you were simply getting informed), the white and gray predetermined icon annoying (was that because he didn’t have a photo, or he simply didn’t have you saved on his phone?).

What could you say? ‘Hi’ was too bland, ‘Hey, this is Jane’ was too-business like for your liking. A selfie? Nah, too narcissistic.

But it gave you an idea, searching your gallery for one of the thousand photos you’d taken with Cass, the both of you with digital bat stickers all over your face. In a brave, but truly stupid moment of courage, you hit send, hastily locking your phone and tossing it onto your bed, the device getting lost in your mess of blankets and pillows.

Fuck, what had you done? Your heart was racing a thousand beats per minute, feeling it bump into your chest, chiding yourself for being so stupid, what if he didn’t reply? Would it be worse if he left you on read, or to find out you were such an irksome he wouldn’t even open your messages? But if he replied? What would he say? React with an emoji? How could you continue the conversation after that? What if the asked you to delete his number? Did you still have time to delete the text? But he would still have the notification and— ding.

The chime stopped your spiraling thoughts. Should you open it? Wait? Destroy your phone? Pretend you meant to send it to Cass? Come on now, whatever he sent can’t be that bad.

              | I have a cute sister.

The message read. Well, it certainly wasn’t the end of the world.

              | And your sister has a cute friend;)

You sent back, feeling bold at receiving a positive reply.

| I don’t think I’ve met her. I only know two of them and one is annoying… The other one is a blonde obsessed with the color purple.

Despite being called annoying, there was a smile on your face.

              | I’ve met the first one, she’s quite lovely and funny.

              | Really? Maybe I should take her out on a date.

              | Maybe you should.

There truly was something wrong with Gotham’s water if you were so boldly flirting with him, flirting with an effing crime lord, all those chemicals spilled onto it changing your very DNA.

[mangoshorthand]

No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch9

SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Five's physically aged up). Obvious smut warning but there's plot too, I swear! Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

In this chapter: Back at the Academy, Five allows himself to be vulnerable.

This chapter is 90% smut so definitely proceed at your own risk

Chapter Nine: The Body

It was strange to go inside the place you'd only seen on TV before. Your memories of the Umbrella Academy's heyday were fuzzy, (of more interest to your childhood friends than you), but actually being there felt like stepping onto the set of one of those Nickelodeon sit-coms: real but unreal all at once. 

The atrium you entered by was almost overwhelmingly grand: even your deliberately stifled footsteps echoed on the marbled floor and off the high ceilings. Beside you, Five looked stealthily through the double doors into an equally opulent living area.

“Nobody there," he whispered, looking back at you.

But you were distracted, eyes fixed on the gallery above. The wall was covered in antique paintings of every size in grand gilt frames. There were fine, Romantic landscapes, dramatic geographies depicted in oils and watercolors; dotted here and there were portraits, their subjects late nineteenth century at most modern. Though mismatched, they gave the impression of an entire world glimpsed between marble pillars and mahogany columns.

Five’s hand rejoining yours brought you back to a sense of your situation.

“My Mom used to love those,” he said, pensively.

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered.  And then, haltingly, “I didn’t realize you had a Mom.”

“We didn’t exactly.” he murmured, “She was a hyper-realistic robot programmed to love and care for us.”

You laughed softly, assuming that this is his way of saying he didn’t like his mother. He changed the subject, not wanting to get into the whole: ‘no, seriously: a robot and a talking chimp were two of my most fundamental childhood relationships’ conversation.

"If you like those, you'll like this one even more.”

You could see him smirking even in the half-light, and he led you to the double doors he just peered through and gestured to a portrait over a mantle in there.

"I can't say I admire the subject, but the artist did a good job."

It was him as a child, still easily recognizable: the same eyes, long nose and arrogant expression, leaning with nonchalance on a leather couch. He looked sweet, but you could imagine only too easily the capacity for insolence on the cherubic face.

 You chuckled under your breath. 

"What?" he smiled, amused himself, "your Dad didn't commission oil paintings of you?"

"No,”  you snorted, “obviously I was neglected."

"So, what do you think?" he asked, smiling in anticipation of the invited jibe.

"You were a cute kid...but I think I prefer the original."

He gave a quiet hum of laughter and pulled you to him by the hand. He planted another sweet kiss on your lips, fingers combing your hair away from your face. 

When you broke apart, he drew you away from the living room and towards a passageway leading off the entrance hall. You cast a last, amused look at the smug-looking Five hung on the wall before you rounded the corner to a back staircase.

"Come on, my room's up here."

The stairwell walls were painted a deep red, and the staircase itself spiraled upwards in tight, dizzying rectangles. As he led you up the stairs, he continued to whisper:

"A lot of my family are here. Most of them tonight, actually. We're lucky there was nobody in the living room. It’s just me in the attic, thank God.”

“Why, you ashamed of me?” you asked, playfully.

“God no. More like ashamed of them . I want to avoid introducing you right now," he turned to you with a broad, brilliant smile, "I don't wanna scare you off.”

" You did your best to scare me off."

"True...yet here you are."

He closed his bedroom door quietly behind you both, switching on the light but still keeping his voice pitched low.

“Ignore the décor. I never got around to redecorating. And - shit, I didn’t think - it’s only a single bed.”

“Cozy,” you smiled.

The décor certainly was odd. In hues of blue, it was clearly a child’s room inhabited by a grown man…a grown man with a math fixation. 

The walls, decorated with a border of laughing illustrated children, were covered top to bottom with incomprehensible calculations, graphs and diagrams, chalked there in a hand you recognised from Five’s note about your TV. The shelf above his desk was stocked with toiletries: aftershave, cologne, antiperspirant, a razor and skincare, while a wicker box shoved underneath the desk was filled to the brim with old toy robots, racing cars and other childhood detritus. 

You gestured at the walls, “If you were worried about me thinking you’re insane, this hasn’t exactly helped.”

“Long story."

He helped you off with your jacket, and when you turned to murmur thanks, he didn't waste time. He threw your jacket over his closet door as he grabbed you around the waist, dipping you swainishly backwards for another, hungry kiss. You giggled as he set you back on your feet, and he continued to hold you, an eyebrow raised in suggestion. 

"So." you said, flirtatiously,

"So..." he repeated, stepping backwards, removing his waistcoat and throwing both it and his suit jacket over yours.

As he untucked his shirt, you reached out to stop him.

“Wait."

He’d undressed you too many times to count, most often wantonly and without care. Until now, he’d always stepped away to undress himself, usually leaving his shirt and pants on if he possibly could. Though he’d never told you that you couldn’t, you somehow sensed that undressing him had previously been off limits.

You approached him until you were face to face, and then, looking into his eyes, you held his cheek in the palm of your hand.

 Instinctively, it seemed, he stiffened, and so you withdrew your hand with a gentle smile. He liked to initiate touch, but being touched was different. 

His eyes held yours, all suavity gone, overwhelmed by unsureness. Something in them spoke to you. 

He looked back at you and he saw sympathy writ deep in every line of your face. It both confused and pacified him. He wasn't comfortable, but perhaps he wanted to be. Both of you could sense possibility in the air between you, the possibility of comfort and unbridled affection behind what remained of his barriers. 

Watching his reaction closely, you removed his loosened tie. 

He stayed still, tense, and you grazed your lips across his adam’s apple, fingers finding his open collar. When you began to unbutton the rest of his shirt, you could see gooseflesh erupting on his neck.

He spoke then, and his voice was raspy, as if it was an effort to talk. 

“I went so long without..." he said, by way of explanation. "and I feel all wrong like this," he finished, gesturing broadly at his body.

“Should I stop?”

“No…it's different. Maybe makes me feel less wrong.”

You kissed him then, gently stroking his neck. He stayed passive, eyes closed, letting go for once and surrendering himself to the arms of someone he could trust. 

You removed his shirt and traced your fingers gently down the line of hair that started beneath his chest, trailed past his navel and disappeared into his suit pants. You bent to skim and gently circle each of his nipples with your tongue. It made him start at first, but then he sighed softly with the sensation. 

When you raised your head, his eyes opened, and his dilating pupils met yours.

Telepathy passing between you in the capturing of his eyes, you unbuttoned his suit pants and pulled them down to just below his ass. Keeping your eyes on his and ready to stop at the slightest sign, you took the opportunity to stroke and fondle his asscheeks. The muscles there, beautifully firm and toned, relaxed as you cupped them. All the tension was starting to leave his body along your fingers’ path. 

“Five," you whispered, "do you know how hot you are?"

He smiled lazily and closed his eyes again. Your whisper against his skin raised all the fine hairs on the back of his neck.

"You're hot inside," (you kissed his chest), "outside," (you kissed his collarbone), "hot however you are."

You slid a hand to cup his package through his underwear. He made a small noise, spreading his thighs as far as his pants would allow, giving you access to his balls. You stroked him like this for a few moments, the heel of your hand massaging his straining dick and the length of your fingers gently cupping his balls. He hummed pleasurably as the tips of your fingers grazed his taint.

"Who's hot Five?" you asked.

"I'm hot," he whispered. He sounded unsure: vulnerable.

You kissed his mouth deeply and then stepped away from him.

“You’ll have to do the rest.”

You sat down on his bed and began to undress yourself. Five, back to earth, seemed surprised and flustered at finding himself in this predicament. He tripped over his lowered trousers as he tried to remove his shoes, but after he dropped down onto the bed and kicked them off, he made short work of his trousers and underwear.

You shuffled your naked body onto the bed properly, propping yourself up on your elbows. As, from all fours, he positioned himself astride you, finally totally naked.

“Hi Daddy,” you purred, eyes glinting.

He smiled back.

“Hello dear one.”

You glowed with the open, frank way he spoke the endearment, and you leaned into him as he kissed you again. He opened your mouth with his and caressed you with his tongue; it glided softly over yours before submitting to your tongue’s answering movements. Tasting him again was bliss; every second away from his lips was too long, and you moaned quietly into his mouth as they were reunited with yours.

"Beautiful." he whispered, breaking away and stroking your cheek.

You opened your thighs and fell into a recline onto the pillow. At his whispered request, you consented gladly, and he entered you almost immediately, wanting connection more than foreplay. He sighed out a contented, outward breath and, holding you tightly, slipped through your wetness with the steady, firm pace that he liked: that you both liked.

His body and yours moved together in a flowing, undulating song. Your sighs commingled and your hands drifted, for once, all over his body. The muscles of his back were unexplored terrain, and they rippled beneath your fingers along with his movement, surprising you with their firm strength. His warmth permeated your hands and, to him, your cool touch felt like relief;  like a cool cloth on a fevered brow. 

He lowered himself, not missing a stroke; first to kiss you, and then to caress your breasts. His fingers circled each areolae, each nipple. His palms gently cupped their weight.

“They’re so soft.” he whispered, as if he’d never touched them before.

You wrapped your legs around him and rocked in time with his thrusts. He made a small, throaty noise and lowered his mouth to a nipple, swirling his tongue and giving it an experimental graze with his teeth. The unexpected pleasure made your hips buck into his.

“Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you whimpered, softly as his dick rubbed that sweet spot deep inside again and again.

He lowered his mouth once more, alternately licking, sucking and softly biting your nipple. You gasped and bucked with increasing intensity, and he responded to your little hisses of pleasure and mild pain, his thrusts became more rapid the more turned on it made him.

You looked into his eyes with his mouth around you, and he looked back with an expression of such lust and softness that you couldn’t tear your eyes away. His hips were becoming less graceful, your upward grind less fluid. Though your coupling became less harmonic as the intensity built, the eye contact tethered you together in these seconds; each one a finely detailed, piercing point in time.

That night, for the first time, you came together. The wild movement of your pelvis in response to his dick and his ever-increasing bites got him to the edge, and it only took him a few touches to your excited clit to bring you both crashing over the precipice together.

He sounded pained as he came, unable to stop moaning out loud despite the need for more quiet than usual. He stifled it by pressing his mouth against your breast again, instead moaning into your skin. Your breathing, ragged and gasping, stayed mercifully quiet.

When he slowed and stopped his thrusts, he took a few moments to catch his breath.

“That was...,” but he never finished, the words failing him. Instead, he asked: “Is your nipple okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, looking down at it,“Stings a little.”

He noticed its redness and bent to kiss it better. Then, relaxing, he came to spoon you, folding his arms around you. 

The closeness was exquisite; like floating together. The mingled scents of his body, sex, and cologne filled your senses. 

You knew you needed to wash, but it was too nice. It was too relaxing, feeling Five’s gentle strokes up and down your waist and hips with the back of a light hand. 

“Was that good for you?” he whispered.

“You know it was perfect,” you replied. 

He chuckled, glowing with your implied praise, with the things you said as you undressed him. It was good, so good to be lying in his bed and no longer be trying to explain away the way he felt. What sort of idiot was he to have fought it so long? He could have had weeks, months of this already if he hadn’t been so deluded. 

He continued drifting his fingers up and down your body, liking the gooseflesh he was raising on your skin and your breathing getting deeper and deeper.

Your eyes started to grow heavy.

But at least part of Five, it seemed, had ideas beyond sleep. As the minutes went on, you started to feel something hard developing between you, and then Five shifted and his erection was suddenly nestled between your asscheeks.

“Someone’s awake,” you remarked and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

“Mmhm. I used to be able to crank one out and that was me sorted for the foreseeable future. Now I’m stuck in this body, it doesn’t want to quit until I’m worn out.”

“Oh poor you.”

“Yes. A miniscule refractory period is one of the many burdens I bear without complaint.”

“You’re a hero,” you said, as he rubbed himself between your cheeks, suggestively, “but I’m a little too tired. I think it’s the Bordeaux.”

He made a sad little noise.

“Feel free to jerk off,” you said, a hint of humor in your voice. 

“When you’re here, and my bed is so tiny?” he said, wheedling, but only slightly.

You chuckled and shook your head, but then an idea occurred to you: “Maybe I want to watch you take care of yourself.”

“I’m listening.” 

“I can lie here and you can put on a show for me. Nothing hotter than a self-sufficient man.”

“Mmm…” he said, considering, “ok, I’ll bite.” 

He stood and moved his desk chair into place beside the bed.

“You gotta at least show me some titty though.”

You laughed as you threw back the blankets to expose them for him. 

Sitting on the chair, he began to stroke himself, eyes flicking between your face and breasts, and lingering on both in turn. 

His thumb gently caressed the head of his cock, occasionally pausing to focus on stroking the slit. He flicked his wrist in a practiced way, looking down at you as he did so. He watched you as you watched him, taking a little stretch of time to appreciate his body; the strength obvious in his toned but modest physique. His forearms, (the right flexed as he gripped his arousal), his softly defined pectorals, and his supple abdomen trailed with delicate hair.

Being watched this way was clearly heightening his experience, and he shifted his ass forward in order to deepen his lean back into the chair. His right hand came to cup his balls experimentally, weighing them in his hand and stroking himself faster.

“Slow down there,” you chided, gently, “it’s not a race. I want to watch you really enjoy yourself.”

He nodded and smiled slightly self-consciously. He slowed his left hand and returned his attention to his balls, no longer cupping, but rubbing them with an open palm. He threw his head back and shifted his ass forward again, almost horizontal on the chair now. His longest finger began to dip lower on his balls, grazing his perineum.

“What are you thinking about Five?”

“You.”

“The time I ate your ass?” 

He nodded, looking a little surprised. 

“I can tell.”

“How?”

You looked down at his right hand pointedly.

“By where that finger’s going.”

He grinned and abandoned pretense. He was rubbing his taint in earnest now, finger occasionally dipping a little bit to stroke his tight hole. The hand pumping his dick sped up slightly as his arousal grew. Gradually, he left his balls behind and exclusively stroked below them, letting out little shuddering breaths.

Then, he stopped and abruptly threw himself off the chair and onto his knees on the floor.

“What are you-”

But he’d already pulled a small box out from beneath the bed. From inside, he retrieved a large dispenser of lube. He looked up at you from the floor, and his expression was almost embarrassed, like a boy caught in wrongdoing, but for the smile you could see through it. 

“Interesting,” you said, encouraging him with your approval. 

This time, when he retook his position, he put both feet on the bed and reclined even deeper into the chair. Covering the fingers of one hand generously with pumps of lube, he rubbed it around his asshole, letting out a little hiss as he did so.

Now, slick with lube and eyes fluttering closed, one of hands regripped his cock, and the other gently played with the tight furl of his asshole.  He tapped at his hole with his index finger, applying darting pressure with which to start stretching and teasing himself, entering only as far as his fingernail.

“You’re looser than when I tried.”

“I’ve been practicing,” he whispered. 

His hair was starting to break free from its neat sweep, flopping into his eyes. His face was infused with a slight blush, his expression tight.  You were torn then, between watching him pleasure himself and watching his face: the former would have been the only thing you could dream of viewing, were the latter not before you. For all the strength you knew he possessed, his face was the picture of fragile beauty.

Soon, he was in up to the first knuckle, the strokes to his dick becoming more pronounced the deeper he went. When in to his full fingers’ length, he pulled it fully out again, slowly. He moaned at the sensation, his asshole contracting with relief, before invading himself again fully. He squeaked quietly, apparently hitting the right spot. 

“Good?”

“Nggh…”

Words were beyond him, he was too busy stroking, prodding and circling the engorged sweet spot inside him.

“Mmph!”

As his dick leaked a little milky fluid, his right hand seemed to remember what it was here to do, and he jerked himself again, hard, no longer any concern for drawing it out. His hips rose off the edge of the chair as he fingered himself vigorously- in a way you were surprised he could stand this soon, especially after being so tight when you’d explored those regions. 

Yet, with his finger at its deepest on the downstroke of his dick, his toes curled on the bed frame as he fucked himself hard and fast. His moans sounded almost like tiny, desperate sobs the more he tried to stifle them.

His neck tensed. He threw his head back,  eyebrows raising high and mouth falling open. With every stroke, his breathing became more heavy, more wobbly.

He let out a single, throaty ‘Ah’ ,  and suddenly his face contracted, mouth closing tight. His teeth dug white crescents into his lower lip. His face could have been screwed in lines of pain but for his grunts and flushed cheeks.

His dick finally exploded as he bucked his hips up and down, alternately pressing his dick and prostate harder into his fist and finger.He came in torrents, surprising given that this was his second round;  sticky, glistening fluid flooding onto his belly as he groaned, deeply now. 

When finally done, he removed his finger with a little ‘haah’. 

Spent, his body at last relaxed into the chair.

“That looked fun.”

“Sure was.” he said, breathlessly,  his voice still thick with receding pleasure, “I felt that one all over me.”

“You think you’ve put your dick to bed now?”

“Definitely.”

 After showers for which Five blinked you both directly into the bathroom and back, you returned to his too-small bed. Pressed together, he held you, his warm hands stroking idly where he touched.

 As you drifted off to sleep, you realized that this might be the place you felt safest in this world. In his attic room, in his arms.

Tag list: (lmk if you want to join) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh,@nevbrooke-555

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

[floatmeintothesun]

This coffee shop was always big enough for the both of us

SYNOPSIS: You and Diluc meeting was a chance encounter, in your tiny little coffee shop and…somehow you two manage to keep finding each other, and it’s getting harder to convince yourself day after day that the two of you are only friends

tags: gender neutral reader, fluff, little to no angst, kind of nsfw

tw: petnames

—-

It’s raining, the first time you see him. His bright red hair glints in the soft light from the bulbs, hanging from above, and water drips down from his skin and splashes onto your floor. The coffee shop itself is empty other than for yourself and him. The quiet and homey atmosphere is prevalent throughout your little shop and the man relaxes upon entering once seeing that it’s only you and him. He looks…somewhat familiar but you just can’t put your thumb on it.

You glance at the clock.

It’s quite late and you’ll have to close soon…but it would be too cruel to kick this person out, while it’s still raining. You hide your hands in your apron, smiling when he walks up to the counter, trying to focus on your job and not his unfairly handsome looks.

“Hello. How may I help you?” You ask, your hands anxiously fiddling with the strings on your apron. He blinks and runs a hand through his hair, combing the residue of water out of those flaming crimson strands.

“Hello. I’d like a…” He glances at the menu above your head and looks back. “A cappuccino, please.” You nod, silently wondering why his voice has to be so smooth and sweet to listen to. It’s almost like he’s stepped out of a fashion magazine, with his black turtleneck and white slacks. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and he holds a soaked white overcoat tucked under one arm, accentuating his muscles and physique.

“What flavor would you like, or would you prefer it unflavored?” You hum, a little proud of yourself for being so neutral and not giving away your quickly growing crush.

“Ah…Caramel, please. And make it an order for…Diluc.” You nod again and turn to the coffee machine, hearing the person sit down in one of the soft booths after paying for his drink. Diluc isn’t a common name, but somehow it fits this person perfectly. Once you look at him again, there isn't any other name that could have fit better.

Your hands move with practiced motions, pulling two shots from the machine and pouring them into a mug, along with a few tablespoons of sweet caramel sauce. You set it aside in favor of pressing the pitcher full of milk to the steaming wand, frothing the milk until it’s bubbly at the top, and letting the liquid slip in.

As a final touch, you spoon out dollops of the froth into the cup, finishing with a light drizzle of caramel sauce before putting it on a small plate that matches nicely with the mug.

You step out behind your counter, walk over to his table, and gently place it in front of him.

“Here’s your cappuccino. Enjoy!” You say, smiling warmly and he stares for a second. You wonder if you shouldn’t have smiled like that before the man--Diluc--smiles back, flashing a small, but genuine grin

“Thank you.” And--oh gosh, he’s so handsome and his voice is so soft and, you're utterly doomed now. You manage to walk gracefully back to the counter, praying that your face isn't as hot as it feels while he sips your creation while scrolling through his phone. It’s hard not to peek over at him so instead, you look up at the clock on the wall. It’s past closing time, but the rain doesn't seem to be letting up any time soon…

(Perhaps you're imagining it but there’s a faint pink hue on his cheeks as well…maybe it’s just your hopeful wishing though…)<

You glance at Diluc before sighing to yourself hopelessly. His fingers tap an anxious rhythm on the table and he looks up from his phone every so often to look outside, watching water drip down your windows and onto the wet sidewalk outside.

He probably has places to be and your car is parked pretty close to the parking lot near the back…You probably won’t even get too wet if you don’t use your umbrella. You reach under the counter and pull out your umbrella.

“…I noticed that you seem to be waiting out the rain and it doesn't look as if it will let up soon…would you like to have my umbrella?” You swallow down your hesitance and walk to his table again, holding the umbrella by its handle. Hey looks up, startled, his bright ruby-red eyes wide with confusion and…something else you can’t really identify.

“Ah…really? Thank you so much, but won’t you need it as well?” You might as well melt into a puddle of lovesick goo because just talking to him is making your heart beat erratically in your chest.

Come on, calm down! You’ve literally only talked to him once and he’s a customer! Get yourself together.

He sounds a little worried and you shake your head reassuringly. His still-wet white overcoat looks as if it’s been the substitute shield against the downpour and you wince, seeing as the fabric is probably expensive.

“It’s alright--I’ll be fine. My car is parked pretty close, so I’ll barely even be in the rain. Besides, I’m offering.” Is it cliche to offer some random hot guy your umbrella after falling head over heels for him? Is this the result of watching too many Korean dramas? Whatever, Diluc is totally worth it, even if you relive these memories privately in your car, silently admonishing yourself for being so bold.

The red-haired man hesitates before reaching out and taking the umbrella from your outstretched hand.

“Thank you so much, again. I’m grateful for your kindness.” He rubs the back of his neck, glancing at the floor and suddenly, you feel embarrassed too, sticking your eyes firmly to the tiles down below. Man…was the ground always this interesting? Whatever confidence you summoned to give him your umbrella has apparently vanished into literal thin air.

“Yeah…” You trail off awkwardly, still having your eyes glued downward--maybe if you had looked up you would have seen the light blush coating the other man’s face.

“Ahem. Well, I’ll be sure to return this to you when it’s not raining anymore.” He clears his throat and slips his phone into his back pocket, shuffling his overcoat over his shoulder.

“O-oh, it’s alright if you keep it. I can always get another one.” You shrug, inwardly crying because of how gentlemanly this person is. Like, how is it possible for him to be so damn respectful?

“I see…I’ll take my leave then, now. Once again, thank you for letting me borrow this…” He trails off before looking at your nametag. “(Name).” You manage not to squeak at the low timbre of his voice and watch him wordlessly go out the door and depart. You can see him through the glass windows unfurling your umbrella and walking away.

“Oh, no, I’m doomed…” You murmur to yourself, burying your uncomfortably burning cheeks into the palms of your hands. You're sure that you're blushing like crazy by now. Why did your brain shortcircuit so much when Diluc said your name? It was almost like a temporary bluescreen was flashed right in front of your face right then and there!

You slap both hands against your face, wrinkling your nose at the stinging sensation.

“Oh come on, (Name), there’s no way that he’ll ever come back, so don’t even try to hope anymore..! He’s way out of your league. Get your head out of the gutter.” You mutter to yourself willing your face to go back to its normal coloring.

You close up your shop, trying your best to not think about the hot stranger named Diluc. You do manage to avoid most of the rain when you finally collapse into your car’s front seat, turning up the heater and slumping down in the warmth.

Before you can start to overanalyze and pick apart every single part of the conversation you both had, you shake your head and focus on just getting home.

Besides, he’ll probably keep the umbrella--after all, you said yourself that you didn’t need it and he could take it. There isn’t a chance that he’ll come back to your quant, homey little coffee shop, right?

—- Nope. You're wrong. You're very wrong.

The hot stranger comes back the next day, effectively disproving your earlier statement. Only this time, your shop is not as empty as it was before and it’s in the early morning as opposed to the dark night.

“How may I help--oh! It’s you!” You can’t but sound surprised, only recognizing him from his bright red eyes. Today he’s wearing a beanie and hoodie that covers most of his bright red hair, while his eyes are hidden by some sunglasses. He looks as if he’s trying to be discreet, but somehow he’s still attracting looks from other patrons in your shop.

Maybe it’s his tall stature or his attractive aura. It must be something--but he ducks his head low anyway as if he wants to avoid their prying gazes.

“Yes…I suppose it is.” You blush brightly at his words and shake your head quickly to try to wave off any embarrassment. “Well…I’d like to return what rightfully belongs to you.” His voice is still as soft and deep as ever, yet now it holds a faint teasing edge to it, making him almost 1000 times more attractive than you initially thought--which is great and horrible at the same time.

You glance over the counter and realize that he’s holding your umbrella from earlier and you can’t stop the small grin on your face, missing the way his eyes immediately zero in on it.

“Oh…thank you so much, I didn’t think that you would return it the next day.” You laugh softly, accepting the item when he slides it over the counter carefully.

“I did say that I was merely borrowing it, I believe.” You stifle your giggles and nod, feeling a vague sense of accomplishment when the corners of his lips quirk upward in a small smile.

“That you did, Mister Diluc.” He twitches at the title, before seemingly remembering the name he put down as his order yesterday. “Would you like to order something?” You raise your eyebrows faintly when he jolts and realizes that he’s still in line. The red-eyed man coughs lightly into his fist and nods.

“Would you like the same drink as the one from yesterday?” He considers it for a moment before bobbing his head up and down again, and paying for his item, going to sit down in the same booth.

And this continues. The routine of him coming in every morning or late at night to order a cup of coffee--it doesn't change day after day, and strangely-- you're fine with it. Maybe it’s because he becomes more open and relaxed when he becomes a regular. Maybe it’s because he talks to you when the flow of customers is slower than normal. Maybe because he helps after closing time to clean up the machines and mop the floors.

You smile every time you see him and he smiles back. Even with the various disguises he wears for whatever reason, it’s always easy to pick him out from the other customers and he might just be your favorite patron of all time.

A big plus side of this is that Diluc has warmed up considerably to you--to the point of you being able to confidently call him one of your closest friends. He even brings roses and all sorts of different plants for you to clutter up your shelves and you desperately tell yourself that he’s only being a good friend.

He’s just being a good friend when he lets you keep his stylish jackets and overcoats when it’s cold outside.

He’s simply being a good friend when he gives you his personal phone number and tells you to call him if you need anything.

There’s nothing more to it when he shows up at your house at your invitation, helping you build furniture and watching old rom-com movies together. Or when he sits next to you, pressing his warm weight into your side, eyes glued to the television.

You're content with this, and apparently so is Diluc. You've told him things about yourself in the dead of night when the two of you wipe down the counters and he does the same, mentioning his troublesome brother and father, which he grudgingly tells you that he cares about greatly.

(For all the time you've spent together growing closer to him--your small little crush hasn’t gone away at all. If anything, it’s only grown little by little, with each second you spend with him. Maybe if you ignore it, then it’ll simply disappear)

“Wait--so you're the heir to inheriting a wine business after your dad?” You ask, putting up the chairs so it’s easier to mop the ground. He grunts an affirmation, swabbing the tile floors, while you divert your attention to your plants, inspecting their leaves and watering them.

“Yeah…” He mumbles. “Sometimes it’s a little stressful, but my brother helps me out, so it isn’t all that bad.” You nod, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“Man, being an heir sure sounds like a huge amount of work. I’ll stick with owning my little shop here, thanks.” You chime, humming softly to yourself under your breath. He sighs a little. “Oh, and by the way, what’s the name of your father’s business?” Diluc blinks up at you confusedly.

“…The Dawn Winery…?”

Clatter.

The plastic plate in your hand drops down onto the ground, making a pleasant clicking sound against the hard ground.

“Wait--what? The Dawn Winery? You're the heir of the--wait so you're… DILUC RAGNVINDR??” You yelp, turning to look at him with wide, accusing eyes. He looks startled.

“You didn’t know?” You shake your head vehemently, although the small little pieces are fitting together in your head quite nicely and you curse yourself for being so dumb. His name is Diluc. He has bright red hair and often has to hide from the public. He looks like a fucking model and acts like a gentleman. Of course, he’s fricking Diluc Ragnvindr.

“Oh, man…I’m so dumb, I literally thought you were just some random dude named Diluc who conveniently looked a bit like the heir of an incredibly successful company.” He stifles a low chuckle that simultaneously sends shivers down your spine and makes you want to dig a hole and crawl into it. And then maybe die.

“Don’t laugh! It’s--I just, I don’t know, I just didn’t put it together--stop!” You whine, covering your face.

“Do you know anyone else named Diluc that has bright red hair and eyes? A very popular trait of the Ragnvindr family?” He chokes out another laugh when you sink deeper into your pit of misery. “You’ve known me for half of a year, and you never thought I was a Ragnvindr?”

“Gah, I knew you looked familiar too when I first saw you, but I couldn't put my thumb on it. And I don’t know any other Dilucs other than you.” You huff, trying to hide your burning cheeks by turning away, but something tells you that he sees right through you.

“I can’t believe that I just ordered Diluc Ragnvindr to mop my floors and wipe my tables.” You whisper, groaning lowly when you hear his muffled snicker.

“Hey, just saying, Diluc Ragnvindr doesn’t really mind mopping your floors.” he pops into your little bubble of self-imposed humility, raising an eyebrow when you look up at him forlornly. “You should thank me--these tiles are the cleanest they've ever been.”

“…I should hire you.” You mutter, squinting your eyes at him. “Then you won’t talk to me so disrespectfully. I’d be your boss, Diluc. Do you talk to all your bosses like this?” He shrugs.

“I don’t think so--but still I don’t particularly want to be your employee.” His eyes glint a little weirdly at that but you dismiss it as a simple trick of the light.

“You’d be a bad employee, I bet. Yeah, you're much better as my friend than my worker.” You glance at him with an appraising eye, nodding to yourself, not seeing the way his lips curve downward, just a little. He sighs heavily, watching you attempt to wrap your head around his apparent rise in status.

“I think that I’d be a great employee. I just don’t want that.” You giggle, taking his words at face value.

“You said it yourself--my floors and my counters are as clean as they’ll ever be thanks to you. Heh, you're practically an unpaid worker here.” You snort, turning to look at him teasingly.

“…I mean…you could pay me another way.” Diluc’s voice has gone a bit strange, a little lower than normal and somehow, it makes goosebumps rise on the back of your palms. You curse your stupid crush and Diluc himself for saying something that could be misinterpreted so easily.

“Huh? What do you mean? Do you actually want money?” Maybe what you're thinking of isn’t what he has in mind. Maybe your head is simply way too far down the gutter. He turns toward you lifting his eyebrows in an unreadable expression.

…No. I’m not really looking for money. A different kind of payment.” He hums lowly, striding toward you, with his stupidly long legs, his stupidly handsome face, his stupid, no good insane physique..! Your brain shortcircuits when he’s close enough that you can smell the faint traces of cologne on his body.

It smells something like mint and charcoal, but it's nice, somehow. You can die happy, now.

“Whoa there, Diluc, I-I um… huh? O-oh, I think I’m just…” You stutter out broken sentences, your tongue not moving in the right way to really articulate words well. His smile is way too smug for your liking and you resist the urge to just implode, right then and there.

“Y’know, I knew you were dense…but now I think that this is just denial.” He murmurs, watching you blush even harder.

“Denial? On what? I’m not denying anything, I think, maybe…?” Your words sound a bit garbled when they come out of your mouth and you tug anxiously at the collar of your apron.

“Hmm. I believe you know what I’m talking about. How about it, boss? I certainly wouldn't mind finally being paid for all of my hard work.” You squeak when he lowers his head down and uses his arms to lean against the counter you were cleaning, effectively caging you in.

Inside, you're practically melting from panic and excitement at the same time somehow and whatever you were trying to say earlier has completely vanished from your mind. At this point, you're just babbling whatever is coherent enough to pass through your quickly deteriorating brain to your mouth.

“Wait--I’m confused, where are you taking this? Diluc--” You stutter, eyes wide with surprise. He smirks at your dumbfounded expression, and you flounder around when his face dips down lower, closer, to yours. A violent shade of pink erupts on your cheeks, and you make an embarrassing fluttery noise.

“…I’m a little tired of dropping hints so I’m deciding to finally take initiative. After all, there’s only so much teasing a man can take before…snapping.” His voice becomes a little rougher at that last word, and you squeak.

“Dropping hints? You mean--you're actually--interested? In me? Me?” Diluc raises an elegant eyebrow, exhaling softly.

“What do you think? Do you truly think that I’d just do this for anyone?” His breath fans out against your lips and you nearly faint at the feeling.

“I mean--well…I uh, no…? Maybe--?” He frowns lightly, watching you stumble and trip over your tongue pathetically. His much larger frame leans closer, until it’s pressing your back into the cold marble counter and you yelp. “N-No! I mean probably not but I just um…”

“You're right. I’m doing this because I am interested. Very interested in you.” He murmurs boldly, his skin flushed lightly--the color a stark contrast to his pale flesh. Your hands are clenched tightly in the pockets of your apron and you're sure that by now your face is a brilliant red.

“Y-You are? I--” Why is it so hard for you to speak now? You feel like you're back in high school, fumbling over-rehearsed confessions to your crush.” I like you too..?” Your voice lilts up in a question and he hums, pleasedly.

“Is that a question?” His lips are so close to yours and you shake your head quickly. Gathering your courage, you grit your teeth tightly.

“No. It’s not. I…l-love you!” You choke out, watching his eyes widen minutely. Damn, you hadn’t meant to say love! You were only trying to tell him that you were interested too--not this! He stops for a second, before breaking out in a warm smile.

(Ah. That crush never will go away, will it?)

“Ah…how passionate. I suppose that it’s finally time to collect my payment, isn't it?” He chuckles before finally, FINALLY leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours.

They're much softer than you expected them to be and you make a mortifying breathy sigh that makes you want to float into the sun and just disappear from the world.

Diluc seems to like it though--humming lowly and nibbling at your bottom lip as if asking for permission. You gasp when he presses more of his weight onto you, tangling one hand in your hair and the other wrapping around your neck.

You can feel his smile against your lips as he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring inside with frightening dexterity and insistence, groaning lowly as he uses the hand wrapped around the nape of your neck to guide you.

Diluc just…devours you. You feel lightheaded while he dominates your mouth, taking his sweet time inside as if tasting the most exquisite wine, while you are helpless to his infuriating handsome charms. It’s insane how easy it is to just sink into his warmth and welcome his careful touches.

He bites your lip one more time before breaking away, the both of you gasping for oxygen. His eyes are hooded with lust and desire, making something in your stomach twist into a twirly pretzel.

“You…have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He hums, already having caught his breath while you still heave for air. You press a hesitant finger to your lips, wondering if they look swollen from the intensity of his kiss.

“Oh yeah? Then…why don’t you do it a-again?” You mutter, your own words making your face flare bright red. He growls and immediately dives back into your warmth, devouring your lips, grinding his hips into yours needily.

His hands trail down your back, fingertips running down your skin and hooking underneath your ass, hoisting you up onto the marble bench, not breaking the contact between your bodies. You feel uncomfortably hot and you fumble with the strings behind your apron, untying it and pulling it off.

He helps you slide the damned fabric off your head quickly, groping greedy handfuls of your flesh and grabbing your hips so tightly you're sure that you’ll have bruises afterward.

“Do you,” He places an open mouth kiss on your neck. “know how damn,” Another moving downwards toward your shoulder. “long I’ve waited for this? You…really are something else.” Diluc hums, his voice low and husky.

“I know now, don’t I?” You counter, your hands roaming across the expanse of his muscled chest, fueled by pure want and desire and he bites down on the skin between your jaw and neck, soothing the pain over with his tongue.

“You're so good, aren’t you? You’re going to feel so good, so fucking good.” Diluc mumbles, leaning down to suck dark marks on your neck possessively. You can feel him through the fabric of his dark slacks and you try to hold in a groan when he grinds against you.

“Diluc--I just wiped these counters, please I’ll have to disinfect them--!” You try halfheartedly to stop him, your protests muffled when he shoves two fingers inside your mouth and goes back to marking up your skin. “Diluc!”

—-

Needless to say, you force him to clean them exceptionally well afterward, regardless of whether or not he is the heir of an extremely successful wine company. Something tells you that you’ll never be able to look at that counter the same way again.

[misunderstood-ace]

SONGS THAT MAKE ME THINK ABOUT SNS

Come take my hand, I won't let you go

I'll be your friend, I will love you so deeply

I will be the one to kiss you at night

I will love you until the end of time

I'll be your baby, now promise not to let you go

Love you like crazy, now say you'll never let me go

Boy, come to me (Come to me)

Let me turn your rain into sun (Come to me, baby)

You don't have to worry, baby (Oh, no)

I promise I'll set your heart free

Let my love into your soul

End of time - Beyoncé

When the sun shine, we shine together

Told you I'll be here forever

Said I'll always be your friend

Took an oath, I'ma stick it out to the end

Now that it's raining more than ever

Know that we'll still have each other

You can stand under my umbrella

These fancy things

Will never come in between

You're part of my entity

Here for infinity

When the war has took its part

When the world has dealt its cards

If the hand is hard

Together we'll mend your heart

Umbrella - Rihanna

I look and stare so deep in your eyes (I)

I touch on you more and more every time

When you leave, I'm begging you not to go

Call your name, two, three times in a row

Such a funny thing for me to try to explain

How I'm feeling, and my pride is the one to blame (Yeah)

'Cause I know I don't understand

Just how your love can do what no one else can

Crazy in Love - Beyonce

Baby, I can't go anywhere

Without thinking that you're there

Seems like you're everywhere, it's true

Gotta be having déjà vu

'Cause in my mind I want you here

Get on the next plane, I don't care

Is it because I'm missin' you

That I'm having déjà vu?

Deja Vu - Beyoncé

Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain

Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain

Now the dark days are done and the bright days are here

My Sunny one shines so sincere

Sunny one so true, I love you

Sunny, thank you for that smile upon your face

Mm, Sunny, thank you, thank you

For that gleam that flows with grace

You're my spark of nature's fire

You're my sweet, complete desire

Sunny one so true, yes, I love you

(Imagine Sasuke singing this to Naruto)

Sunny - Bobby Hebb

And I left a note on my bedpost

Said not to repeat yesterday's mistakes

What I tend to do when it comes to you

I see only the good, selective memory

The way you make me feel yeah

You got a hold on me

I've never met someone so different

Oh here we go

You part of me now, you part of me

So where you go I follow, follow, follow

I can't remember to forget you

I keep forgetting I should let you go

But when you look at me

The only memory

Is us kissing in the moonlight

I can't remember to forget you

I'd rob and I'd kill to keep him with me

I'd do anything for that boy

I'd give my last dime to hold him tonight

I'd do anything for that boy

Cant remember to forget you - Shakira & Rihanna

[prodtrouver]

I’m Looking For You — shikanoin heizou

Heizou sighs when he could hear the sounds of raindrops falling from outside the library walls and windows.

The rain wasn’t falling hard but it’s definitely not light as well.

Stupid weather, he cursed. No one even expected it to rain.

He started to fix up his things, wanting to continue to study in a place where he can’t be bothered by such a loud thing but then again, how will he get back to the dorms?

He had his laptop in his bag, so he couldn't use his bag as a cover. He didn’t have any jacket on his well. He thinks about leaving after the rain has stopped but it doesn’t seem that way.

He sighs before logging out of the library and heads to the exit where he just stared at out in the rain while being under the shade.

First, his macarons were taken and now, it’s suddenly raining.

What used to be a relaxing weekday turned into a day he couldn’t even imagine. Heizou sees the rain getting lighter for a moment but he figures that it will get worse again.

He was about to step out into the rain until—

“Wait!” Heizou turned around to face the person. He seemed puzzled by your concerned expression.

He took a step back into the shade to turn his body to you.

“Yes?” Said Heizou.

“Uh - I noticed how you were just staring out into the rain and you looked like you were about to run without a cover, so please take this.” You lent the second umbrella you have with you.

You took his hand to take the umbrella, just in case he thinks you don’t have another.

You smiled sweetly and pulled out the second umbrella from your bag. You finally walked under the rain, covered by an umbrella.

“Also, I saw you checking out therapy books! If you ever need help, you can find me in the psychology major area!” You shouted, so he could hear you under the rain before you finally ran your way to your afternoon classes.

Heizou watched your figure leave from his sight. His hand grips on the umbrella you gave him before he starts to feel his cheeks getting warmer.

“Ah… thank you…”

06 :: miraculous ladybug

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗼𝘂𝘀 :: 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 :: 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 :: another usual day for heizou to place his sweet macarons on the library table and goes away for a few minutes to look for some books. Except on this memorable day, someone took his macarons. What first thought to be accidental case turned into a regular occurrence, so it became his goal to find out whose been taking his precious macarons.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 :: I double updated so you all better like this or else, I'm dropping - just kidding, but I really hope you all liked this chapter

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 :: @spookyrule @strawbxrrytiger @aequha @slvdsjjk @aixaingela @ferumie @kayleigh-reuthlr @hadesaedes @whats-humanity-lol @rinshouya @nei-rinn @yohoo-tehee @kuni-kuzushii @mikctp   (If your name isn't highlighted, I can't tag your name)

[messers-moony]

Home | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five goes through everything with his best friend, and when they return with the announcement of their marriage his siblings are appalled. 

Request: “I can request a FiveXreader where the reader is loving, sweet and naive, Five's best friend but the reader has no powers (You can invent a way how they became best friends and they are in love with each other, cliché but I love) One day the reader was sitting in front of the Umbrella Academy and saw Five leave in a hurry (The scene that he will travel in time) In this the reader does not abandon Five and decides to travel in time with him, they end up trapped in the apocalylipse, can you make them stay together?  (Like married I don't know) And also the scene where they go back to 2019? Sorry, if this so bored”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. After a failed mission, he and his siblings decided to sneak out. Klaus had spotted a park on the way home, and that’s where they went. For the first time in years, they felt like kids again. They were all ten years old and had never experienced a playground before. Allison had never laughed as much, and Diego seemed to finally forget his insecurities while swinging from monkey bars. 

Even on occasion, Luther would help Ben cross the monkey bars. Vanya was finally included, and Klaus had never seemed so carefree in his life. But Five had his eyes on someone else. She sat at one of the navy blue tables, quite a ways away from the playground, watching the siblings with a soft smile on her face. A notebook was in front of her while she twirled a pencil in her hand. 

Curiosity killed the cat. Five was too intrigued not to sit with her. So despite this probably being the only time he could experience a playground, he sat in front of her, obscuring her vision from his other six siblings. Her eyes met green ones; they looked evergreen in the dark of the night. His hair almost looked black, but she knew it had to be dark brown. 

“Good evening.” Her voice, it sounded like heaven to him, “Evening.”

It felt awkward, and the silence could’ve been cut with a knife, “My names Y/n.”

“Five.”

“Five? That’s unique.” Y/n complimented, and his cheeks flushed, “Thanks….” 

Her vision went back to the other kids, “You’d think they’ve never seen a playground before.”

“They haven’t.” Five stated, looking at his siblings, “Our father is strict, so we snook out to come here.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude-“

“You didn’t.” Five smiled, looking at her e/c eyes. 

Since then, Five would sneak out a lot more. His power was a fantastic tool. When he and his siblings began to sneak out more, Five always invited her. Klaus, Diego, and Vanya seemed taken with her. Y/n was always so kind and sweet. Her laugh radiated, and it made everyone around her smile. It was like she was Aphrodite, and he was Ares. 

After becoming friends with the academy kids, Y/n had a habit of sitting outside the academy. She usually sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her notebook on her lap, pencil in hand. Five couldn’t remember a time when her hand wasn’t covered in graphite or ink from drawing. He adored it, though, because it was so her. It made him stare at his black pens, aimlessly smiling, knowing that she probably had the same color ink on her hand. 

Becoming friends with Five meant knowing his ambition. Five Hargreeves was driven by his goals and wanted to do them regardless of the consequence. So Y/n knew about his dream to time travel despite his father's wishes. On a gloomy day, Y/n sat on the sidewalk. The only thing drawing her from her daydream was the slam of a gate. 

“Five!”

He didn’t turn, “Five!”

Y/n grabbed his arm, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m- I’m going to time travel.” Five stated with that daze in his eyes, “And you need to stay here.”

“No! I’m not letting you go alone!” Y/n exclaimed incredulously, “Y/n, please.” Five pleaded. 

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. Either we go together, or we stay here together.”

“Fine.” Five reluctantly agreed, holding out his hand for her. 

Hesitantly Y/n slid her fingers through his. They were intertwining their hands together. Five was so focused on time-traveling correctly that he didn’t notice the pink flush on his best friend's face. But he did it, once and twice—finally a third time. Smoke clouded the area, and fire could be seen for miles. 

Y/n dropped his hand and covered her mouth. Five circled in his spot in shock. He felt nauseous and queasy. He couldn’t believe that he let this happen. He shouldn’t have pushed himself. They were stuck. Fucking hell, they were stuck, and he couldn’t do anything. Y/n ran back to the academy, and Five followed her. The h/c haired girl stared at what used to be the Umbrella Academy. Now in ruins. Five dropped to his knees, tears collecting in his eyes. 

“It’s- it’s gone….” 

Y/n hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna be-“ 

Five didn’t get to finish his sentence. He pushed her away and threw up to the side. When he finished, Y/n took her jacket sleeve and wiped it around his mouth—gently combing his hair from his face. Y/n had never seen Five look so drained. Seeing her in front of him, taking care of him made him break. Five broke into sobs holding onto her like a lifeline. Y/n rubbed his back and held him just as tightly. 

“I’m here, Five. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being thirteen in an apocalypse seems like a death sentence, but when you grow up the way Five did, it’s more bearable. The first few months were awful. Searching for shelter, food, clothes. It was downright hell, but they made it through. On cold nights Five would hold her close to his chest, and on hot nights Y/n would always manage to get him cold water. 

Years passed, and their friendship turned into a relationship. They needed each other to survive, and they just needed each other. Five couldn’t be more grateful that she insisted on coming. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. But now, he had his girlfriend leaning her head on his shoulder while watching the fire. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, leaving occasional kisses on her temple. 

“I couldn’t imagine this world without you.” Five confessed, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” Y/n challenged. 

He smirked, “Oh, really?” 

“Don’t let it go to your head, smartass.” Y/n snorted, “Too late, it’s already there, my love.” Five retorted. 

She kissed his cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.” 

Five years later. They were twenty-five, and he wanted to make it official. It was a rather cold day wherever they were, and Five was holding her closer than ever. Y/n was shivering on the old mattress they had found. She was constantly snuggling closer to Five’s chest. They laid facing each other, and Y/n’s head was tucked under his chin. Five’s hand ran through her long hair - after being unable to cut it - soothing her nerves. 

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I want you - Y/n - to marry me.” Five repeated, looking down at her.

Her teeth chattered, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to choose from.”

Y/n glared playfully, and Five chuckled, “Asshole.”

“So, what do you say? Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“I say that if my fiancé doesn’t stop being an asshole, then I won't marry him.” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I love you too, pretty girl.” Five replied, smiling softly. 

He kissed her forehead and allowed her to muzzle closer into him. Gently he pulled the two plain rings he found. They were battered, of course, and the gold was dirty, but that didn’t matter. Five slipped the ring on her finger and his. Y/n placed a gentle kiss on his lips that he gladly returned. Sweet, soft, passionate, and full of love. A description of how she was. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Five replied, “Now get some sleep.” 

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard Five mutter one last thing, “Y/n Hargreeves.”

29 years. 348 months. 1512 weeks. 10,585 days. Until a woman showed up in their shelter, offering them both a job. Five could remember pushing Y/n behind him defensively. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in any interaction he had. The woman offered them a way home. Five turned to his wife, and she saw it. For the first time in forty-five years, she saw it. Hope. 

Y/n took Five’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. The softest smile crossed his features before agreeing with the woman’s offer where both of them became assassins—partners in crime. Nothing turned Five on more than seeing his wife fend for herself, and god, was she good at it. Y/n was so naive and innocent when she was ten. But now? At the age of fifty-six, she wasn’t that girl anymore. 

But when they reached the age of fifty-eight, Five finally found out the correct equation. They were at their last mission, make sure John F. Kennedy gets shot and everything goes to plan, but Five had different ideas. Taking Vanya’s book from his suitcase, he looked over the equations one last time. They were going back; Five would go home today. 

“Y/n.”

“Yes, love?”

Five sighed, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go home.” 

Y/n’s smile was blissful; Five could’ve fainted on the spot, “Home?! Like- Like-“

“Home.” Five answered to his overjoyed wife. 

Y/n kissed him more passionately than ever. Five could feel her gratefulness in her kiss. His hands placed themselves on her waist, and hers were around his neck. God Five never wanted to forget this feeling. The feeling of his wife in his arms, kissing him as she would never get enough. When they pulled apart, Five opened the portal. Gripping her hand, they jumped through and landed on the leaf-filled ground in the icy rain. 

“Does anyone else see Little Number Five and Little Y/n, or is that just me?“ Klaus asked, not trusting his eyes; maybe it was an illusion from the drugs. 

Five and Y/n stood up. The first thing Y/n noticed was the ring on her finger was too big now. But Five looked down at the suit he had been wearing previously. The blazer now reached his knees instead of his waist, and Y/n’s shirt was hanging off one of her shoulders. Five and Y/n looked at each other. They were thirteen all over again. 

“Shit.” 

He grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her into the academy. Y/n had only been in the academy a handful of times before, and she usually was only allowed in Five’s room because she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His siblings followed aimlessly and took their spots at the table. 

“What’s the date? The exact date.” Five inquired, grabbing different things around the kitchen. 

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Y/n took place beside him as Five began making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. The same snack he used to love as a kid. Y/n could remember him trying to eat it back at their apartment the commission provided them but complained it was too sweet. It seems that being in his teenage body again made him crave the sweetness of the snack. 

“So, are we gonna talk about just what happened?” Luther questioned, but no one answered, “It’s been 17 years.”

Five scoffed, “It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The same big spatial jumped behind Luther as he began to take marshmallows from the cabinet, “I haven’t missed that.” Luther murmured. 

“Where’d you two go?” Diego asked. 

“The future.” Y/n answered politely, “It’s shit, by the way.” Five added spatial jumping beside her again and gently kissing her cheek. 

The siblings stared in shock at Five’s sudden act of affection; Five could feel their eyes on him, “What?”

“You just kissed her.” Allison stated, “And?”

Allison didn’t say anything, “Is it a crime for me to kiss my wife or something?” Five asked agitatedly. 

“Wife?!”

“Yes, wife.” Five sighed. 

“Called it!” Klaus exclaimed. 

“I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing.” Five began as he looked through the fridge, “Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” 

He came back with peanut butter in his hand at the front of the table, his wife beside him; he took in the appearance of his siblings, “Nice dress.”

“Oh, well, Danke!” Klaus smiled. 

“Wait, how did you two get back?” Vanya questioned. 

“In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time.” 

Diego couldn’t wrap his head around it, “That makes no sense.”

Five went to remark, but Y/n cut him off, “It doesn’t have to. All that matters is that we’re back.”

“How long were you two there?” Luther queried, “Forty-Five years. Give or take.”

Everyone looked at the two teens in disbelief, “So what are you saying? That you’re 58?”

“Well, not exactly. Our consciences are 58, but it appears that our bodies are back to 13.” Y/n answered. 

“Wait, how does that even work?”

“It seems that Five might’ve gotten the equations wrong.” Y/n replied, and Five glared at her, “I’m not mad! I’m just happy we’re home. Appearance be damned.”

Five took notice of the newspaper in front of Y/n, “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How’d you even know about that?” Luther inquired, “What part of the future do you not understand?” Five retorted. 

“Heart failure?” Y/n asked, “Yeah/No.” Luther and Diego contradicted. 

Five clicked his tongue, “Nice to see nothings changed.”

The teenage boy began to walk away, “Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison questioned.

“What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life.”

Vanya was the first to get up and hug Y/n, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, Vanny. Me too.”

[veryblushyswitch]

Eleven/Jane Hopper ~ 💘 (relationship/tickle hcs)

For the super sweet @blushyeleven!! Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy! 💘

*————————————————————————*

*She loves your hands. Holding them, kissing them, tracing random patterns and shapes on them to make you giggle, everything.

*She also loves nose kisses. Kissing your nose and receiving them. Whenever you kiss her nose she always scrunches her face up and smiles.

*Tickle fights are one of her favorite pastimes and ways to give and receive affection. And you’re more than happy to indulge.

*She likes gentle tickles more than rough tickles. She lets out these super cute giggly squeals! She also loves making you all blushy and squirmy with her nails.

*She does the little legs kicks too especially when you scribble at her stomach.

*She tries her best to not push at your hands by holding onto a stuffed animal or your wrists very lightly.

*She’ll only ever purposely push at your hands when she’s reached her limit or if you poke her over and over because those make her jump every time.

*She loves when you read to her. You’ll be sitting on the couch or in a large chair, even laying in bed, and she’ll make herself comfy in your lap or snuggled against your chest.

*She’ll then look up at you with pleasing eyes, and she doesn’t even have to say anything for you to know what she wants.

*Eleven gets all giggly when you do different voices for different characters and laughs even more if you act out certain parts.

*What she loves most though is that it’s so calming. Being snuggled against you, the calm energy, the ability to let go and let her mind wonder and imagine what’s happening in the story, everything is so relaxing and she has fallen asleep many times while you were reading to her.

*If you love shopping, she would go shopping with you every single day. It’s so fun and she loves seeing all the new stores and clothes! Max comes along too and you all have movie clothing montages ✨

*Watch out if you’re a brat. She learned how to use her powers to tickle you without even touching you and she uses it to her advantage constantly.

*Wiggling her fingers in your direction when you’re across the room from each other, simply cuddling which makes you hide your face in your hands, and what’s even better worse is that she teases you while doing it.

“Aww, Y/N! I never knew faces could get that red.”

“I’m not even touching you yet.”

*The word tickle is so silly to her. She doesn’t get flustered by it, but it definitely tickles her more if you say the word while tickling her.

*Max taught her how to braid hair so she loves to practice on you. You do her hair in return and she melts. Playing with her hair is a good way to help her relax after a long day.

*After her hair gets shaved again, you reassure her that you still think she’s pretty. You still kiss her head and scratch the back of her neck all the way up to her head.

*She cried the first time you saw her without her hair then cried happy tears when you told her it didn’t change a thing.

*Eleven is a great listener and very curious. You could rant to her for hours and she’d listen to every word along with asking as many questions as she can.

*You taught her how to properly roller skate/blade and now you two go skating all the time. Especially when they play more coupley type songs.

*Loves dancing in the rain with you. Especially if you’re able to bring out a little radio and put it under an umbrella so you have music to dance to.

[h34rtizuku]

༺♡༻ if ur under 18, dni ✧ luv u tho

∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

୨୧ izuku is a pro hero with a 6 year old kid and it’s not mf easy

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ you're not too big on kids but you're good with them and that he experiences first hand ~

୨୧ he’s at the store one weekend with kiddo and he’s in the chip aisle looking for which type he wants to get

୨୧ mumbling to himself about which type he’s craving now but what if that craving changes later and he wants a different flavor instead

୨୧ he lets go of the little one’s hand for a split second to get the bag off the shelf and once the grocery is in his arms he turns to his side to grab the little one’s hand once more, only to find him not there

୨୧ he looks up and down the aisle - no kid

୨୧ he goes to the neighboring aisles - not there

୨୧ he goes all around the store, nervously sweating, muttering insults to himself that he lost his only kid - how stupid and unfit of a parent he was

୨୧ until he comes upon an aisle and hears the sniffles of a small child the child took a bit after him when he was a kid, a bit of a crybaby

୨୧ but he sees you

୨୧ calmly reassuring the child, patting his back, telling him to calm down and not to worry that you’ll go look for his father together

୨୧ he doesn’t know why but the sight tugs at his heart, there is something so pure and natural about how you are treating his child

୨୧ but he’s breaking up the sweet moment with a call of his child’s name causing the little boy to turn around and rush into izuku’s large warm arms

୨୧ you’re standing there a little shocked because omg that’s pro hero deku in the mf flesh

୨୧ but you're also happy that the lost boy has been reunited with his father

୨୧ you're about to walk off with a smile when he stops you

୨୧ he thanks you profusely for your help and you’re shyly like ‘it’s no biggie’ with blushed cheeks

୨୧ he asks if he can properly thank you and you’re like dude it’s really no problem

୨୧ he really is thankful but there is also something deep inside him that doesn’t quite want to let you go

୨୧ so he’s like let me buy your groceries and take you out for coffee

୨୧ and you’re about to refuse but you’re a poor college student so getting this weeks groceries for free was one thing

୨୧ but also how are you gonna pass up having coffee with the number one hero and his cute little mini-me ???

୨୧ so yall are at a cute lil cafe where he learns that you're a college student and looking for a partime job over the summer

୨୧ he’s like, you know what, why don’t i hire you as my nanny

୨୧ you’re like i’m not sure, i’m not really a kid person

୨୧ he’s like, i saw you with him, you’ll be just fine - besides he’s a good kid, he just needs someone to watch over him and feed him

୨୧ also i pay really well

୨୧ so you’re like … say less

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ so the first day on the job you arrive at like 8 am, he gave you the code to his door so you just let yourself in

୨୧ you see kiddo at the kitchen table just eating his cheerios or whatever but no sign of izuku

୨୧ so you just go over and take a seat next to the kid and make small talk with him

୨୧ then you hear some shuffling coming from behind you causing you to turn around and investigate

୨୧ lo and behold you see a shirtless izuku with nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low on his wide hips

୨୧ he’s got a towel across his broad shoulders that he’s using to dry the jade curls that haven’t been shaved off as a part of his undercut

୨୧ you follow the droplets of water as they slide down the crevices of his pectorals and abdomen, drifting down his v line and the small tuft of hair leading down from his belly button and melting into the waistline of his pants

୨୧ you’re trying not to salivate at the sight but you also can’t bring yourself to look away just yet wanting to memorize and study the location of every scar and freckle littering his muscular torso

୨୧ he stops drying his hair for a minute and finally sees you like ‘oh great you’re here - how was the trip over here? it wasn’t too hard to find right?’

୨୧ and you’re burning eyes finally tear away from caramel torso and you’re like ‘nope, i found it just fine’ ahaha

୨୧ he gives you a little low down on like, what kid likes to eat, what he doesn’t, what he likes to do, when he goes down for a nap … all that good babysitting stuff

୨୧ after he’s dressed in his hero outfit, he’s kissing his lil nugget goodbye, telling him to treat you nicely, and with several final thank you’s he’s out the door

୨୧ and that’s the start of your job nannying the kid of the number one hero

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ he was right, the kid is a really easy kid

୨୧ he goes down easy for his nap, he’s potty trained, inko raised him like she did izuku so he’s basically the perfect kid, he’s really sweet and will sit down and watch movies with you or he plays really easy by himself playing with his deku, all might, and dynamite action figures

୨୧ and if how easy a job it was, or the smoking hot employer wasn’t enough, the first time you got your paycheck was

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ one day, there was a sudden summer storm that hit right as you reached your stop on the bus

୨୧ you didn’t have an umbrella, forcing you to run to izuku’s house in the pouring rain

୨୧ you show up through the front door and he comes in to greet you only to see you drenched and shivering due to the ac in his home

୨୧ he’s like, “hey y/n how- oh my god, you’re soaked.”

୨୧ and you’re rubbing at your arm awkwardly and trying to create any sort of warmth as you tell him how you got in this mess

୨୧ he’s taking in your soaked form and suddenly his worrying eyes turn into curious ones as he watches a droplet slide from your chin, down your neck, and down your chest to fall between the top alley of your breasts due to the first few buttons of your top being opened

୨୧ the white top you decided today was the perfect day to wear, and without a bra no less

୨୧ but in your shivering and embarrassment you forgot all about that minor detail

୨୧ oh but izuku didn’t forget it

୨୧ he imagined that water droplet sliding down the valley of your breasts underneath your blouse and gliding over your stomach, almost getting lost in your belly button, only to disappear under your waistband

୨୧ he imagined what it would be like to lick the droplets off your hot skin

୨୧ he scanned back up and noticed the tight see-through material of your shirt hugging your tits, dipping into every crevice leaving nothing to the imagination

୨୧ he sees the dark hue of your nipples from behind the cloth, along with the 2 little peaks your buds have made due to the cold air circulating in his house bonus points if you have your nipples pierced, i’m jealous of you

୨୧ he pulls his gaze away when he sees a violent shiver rack your body

୨୧ he leaves for a moment and comes back with a warm towel, almost sad to see the sight of your tits gone but your comfort and warmth was more important to him

୨୧ he tells you to dry off a bit as he goes and gets the shower started for you

୨୧ you’re thanking him yet apologizing for the trouble as you’re gonna make him late for work

୨୧ and he’s denying any negative comments coming out your mouth saying that he technically is at work as helping people is his job and he wouldn’t be a good hero if he didn’t help someone right in front of him

୨୧ he tells you to take as long as you need getting washed up and getting the temperature back in your body

୨୧ he doesn’t have time to think about how you’re just a few feet and a closed bathroom door away from him, naked ~ as he picks out the smallest pieces of clothing he has in his closet

୨୧ he finds an old t-shirt and shorts from his high school days and lays them on his bed telling you through the door that when you’re done he has clothes waiting for you

୨୧ you don’t take too long getting washed up as you know he needs to get to work so only about 10 minutes later you’re walking into the living to izuku sitting on the couch watching the movie his kid wanted to put on

୨୧ he sees you come in from his peripherals as his heart damn near stops seeing you in his clothes

୨୧ the clothes were so small they couldn’t fit him any longer, not after getting a post-high school growth spurt and getting broader due to his hero work

୨୧ but the fact that his already small clothes were swallowing you just did something to him

୨୧ blame it on his size kink he don’t know he has quite yet

୨୧ he pulls himself together to tell you that he threw your soiled clothes in the wash before he says his good byes to his kiddo

୨୧ he’s heading out the door while you and his son are telling him to be safe out there when just as he’s about to leave you call out to him

୨୧ he’s turning around maybe a lil too fast, but he sees you with an umbrella in your hand telling him that you ‘wouldn’t want him to make the same mistake you did’ with a cute bashful smile on your face that almost made him call in sick to work

୨୧ but he knew he couldn’t do that

୨୧ screw being number one hero and all that

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ a few weeks later he comes home from work, tired af as one would

୨୧ but he gets to the door and sees you and his kiddo waiting for him inside

୨୧ you have a cake in your hands and his little one pops one of those little confetti canons at his father with a loud “happy birthday”

୨୧ he’s a lil shocked, a lil surprised, but in a good way

୨୧ he looks at you

୨୧ “well kiddo told me it was your birthday and with a quick little google search i confirmed it to be true. and i felt bad that you had to work on your birthday so we decided to bake you a cake while you were gone and wait for you to get home.” you said softly

୨୧ he had totally forgotten it was his birthday but if it being his birthday meant that he could see you in a little apron waiting for him to come in the door …

୨୧ damn he wished it was his birthday everyday

୨୧ y’all move into the kitchen to start cutting the cake and as you’re plating slices you lean down to the little one and tell him to ‘go get the birthday card he made for daddy’

୨୧ and izuku who wasn’t quite paying attention is like “hmm?” and you just like look at him

୨୧ and he’s like, “oh i thought- you were calling for me-“

୨୧ and you’re like mf, i don’t call you daddy yet

୨୧ but yall just kinda like awkwardly get past it and move on when the child comes running in with his folded construction paper with a green stick figure on the front labeled ‘dad’

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ it all leads up to the day about a month later when you arrive at their home to no sign of the kid

୨୧ and you’re like ~ wtf? he always comes to greet me at the door with a hug and he’s not doing that

୨୧ and you’re looking in the kitchen and the living room to see no sign of the child

୨୧ when you’re about to head into his room to see if he somehow decided to sleep in today, izuku comes out his room

୨୧ and you’re like, where’s the kid?

୨୧ and he’s like, oh, i meant to tell you that my mom came by just a few minutes ago and decided to take him out for the day

୨୧ so you’re like, okay, should i just go home then?

୨୧ and he’s like, you could but i just so happen to have the day off and i think it would be nice if we got to spend some time together, without the kid around

୨୧ and you’re like, what am i gonna do ?? say no ?!

୨୧ so y’all go out for coffee, take a walk around the park, and then go out for lunch before going back to his house to watch like a movie or whatever

୨୧ y’all get back home and he sits on the couch scrolling through streaming sites looking for a movie and you’re coming back from the bathroom

୨୧ when you’re walking to the couch, your foot catches one of the kid’s toys that was lying on the floor causing you to trip and stumble forward

୨୧ izuku moves to catch you causing you to fall into his chest and practically on top his lap

୨୧ you’re out of breath from the sudden adrenaline spike but the close proximity between the two of you isn’t making it any easier to catch said breath

୨୧ neither of y’all are moving, just staring into each others eyes as he quietly asks “are you alright?”

୨୧ his warm breath dancing across your face as you give him a light nod

୨୧ his eyes suddenly move to your lips and out of his mouth comes the words you thought you’d never hear

୨୧ “can i kiss you?”

୨୧ and with a split glance to his lips you’re nodding fervently

୨୧ not soon enough his lips are on yours : plump, warm, and soft ~ tasting of the coffee and the mint gum he chewed after lunch

୨୧ you two pull apart reluctantly but he sets his forehead against yours as he catches his breath

୨୧ “please tell me you feel the same way for me as i do for you?” he whispers

୨୧ you bite your lip, “and how do you feel about me?”

୨୧ “like i want to hold you. kiss you. and come home to you everyday. not just as a babysitter.”

୨୧ “is that all?” you ask

୨୧ “i have a few other things i feel about you but i think it’s too early to tell you.”

୨୧ you link your arms around his neck and play with the stubble of emerald that is his undercut, “i wanna know.” you whisper.

୨୧ he’s like, are you sure���. you won’t think it’s inappropriate ?

୨୧ and you reassure him cuz little does he know of the countless nights you laid with your hand between your thighs imagining it was him getting you off

୨୧ “well uh- i-i really wanna fuck you.” he quietly admits

୨୧ you readjust your position to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of his thighs

୨୧ “how?” you ask

୨୧ “how what?” he replies as he tentatively places his hands lightly on your waist

୨୧ “how,” you start, leaning down to ghost your lips atop his, “do you wanna fuck me?”

୨୧ his breath stutters, something about those words coming out of your mouth

୨୧ he’s quiet for longer than you would like, “c’mon tell me” you whine, moving your lips from his mouth, down his jaw, and along his neck

୨୧ his breath quickens, soon letting out a low groan when you stumble upon his sweet spot

୨୧ you pull away causing him to almost whine, “start talking ~ tell me how you wanna fuck me.”

୨୧ “well f-first i wanna kiss all over you. your cheeks. your neck. your hands. i w-wanna feel your warm soft skin under my lips.”

୨୧ he pauses a bit but you urge him to continue

୨୧ “i wanna play with your tits. i wanna suck on your nipples. i’ve wanted to ever since you came in soaked by the rain that day.”

୨୧ as he gets more confident, his voice gets deeper, raspier, laced with lust

୨୧ “i wanna kiss all the way down your body until i reach that sweet pussy of yours, i’ve been dying to get a taste.

୨୧ you let out a low moan into his collar bone, “and then what?”

୨୧ “then after i’ve made you come on my tongue a few times, i wanna stuff you full of my cock. not stopping until i breed you. gave you a baby of your own since you’re so perfect with kiddo already.”

୨୧ “i wanna make you a mommy.”

୨୧ you gasp, your breaths coming out in short hurried puffs as you come up from sucking on his neck

୨୧ “so why don’t you?”

୨୧ he’s frozen

୨୧ “why don’t you fuck your child in me, daddy?”

୨୧ and just like that whatever submissive izuku moment you had going on, is gone

୨୧ he’s on top of you in seconds, squishing you into the couch cushions beneath you as he does just what he said he would do, and then some

yoooooo, happy belated birthday to the actual love of my life. i cried like three times over him yesterday. i hope he’s doing good.

also i’m not gonna sit here & pretend i know anything about how the japanese choose to name their offspring so that’s why kiddo is nameless

[spikesbimbo]

Drunk in Love

Summary:  Getting drunk and confessing your love for your “boy” friend and fucking him was most definitely not what you expected to go down on the usual night.

Pairing: Issei Matusukawa x Reader

Tags: Timeskip!Tattoed Mattsun, softdom!issei Hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, smut, fluff, virgin!reader, Unptrotected sex, non-penetrative sex, fingering, oral, pussy/thigh job, clit slapping, sweet dirty talk, praise, drunk sex

Word count: 7.2k

A/N: I heard pussy job and I wrote a whole ass novel

18+ Minors DNI

You run your finger over the condensation of your empty drink, drawing shapes (or what you thought to be shapes, you couldn’t tell at this point) waiting for your dear friend, Makki to bring you a refill of your cocktail.  

“Here ya go.” Makki said as he returned with your beloved Malibu Sunset. The smooth coconut rum bringing you back to your first and favorite drink that you ever got drunk on in high school. You smiling at the memory

“Thanks.” you say. Your reply being mumbled by the liquid already in your mouth.

This all started with Iwaizumi calling Mattsun up, you and Makki hearing “You wanna get wasted?” on the other side of the phone. And with pleasure, you two were already packing your stuff up, shoving yalls “pregame” bottles back in the bag. The three of you made your happy way there climbing through the fence of the abandoned skate park you were in. Needles to say it was abandoned for a reason, but what’s life without a little danger.

You three and the rest of the third years have been friends since high school, meeting in freshman year, and now including Oikawa’s girlfriend. You actually didn’t like Oikawa at first, his “pretty boy” demeanor making you internally cringe. But his personality grew quickly on you, being the perfect target to tease you and Iwa clowning him over everything.

Now back to you on your nth drink, complaining about your previous job that fired you because u got injured, even though you know you wouldn’t have lasted long there anyways because you weren’t that academically inclined. Bright? Whatever you wanted to call it.

And as-usual it wasn’t long before your crybaby ass immediately called Makki and Issei and “tried” your best to tell them what happed with your dramatic self-induced tears running down you race, while Makki urged to you to try to calm down and Issei straight up laughing at the state your were in, snot running out of your nose. You recoiling at the thought, hoping they forgot. (Spoiler, they didn’t)

But now you nanny for a rich couple and you get payed good to play with cute babies all day, sounds good to you! Luckily, you had the week off due to them going on a vacation, you think it was France, no, the south of France. Must be nice.

Cue to now, Mattsun chuckling and leaning on you and Iwaizumi; both of you, especially Iwa, being visibly done with his shit. Him reminding you about the times you bought him some random shit, which you went out of your way for since he always payed for you, like that chopper keychain because you said it reminder you of him.

He didn’t know what compelled you to say his 6’2, tattooed built self looked like a tiny reindeer but okay. It still meant a lot to him, hooking it onto his motorcycle keys. But you knew he appreciated it, despite his appearance he’s a softie.

“You wanna try this’” He says gaining his composure offering you one of the shots he got.

You took one of the mini glasses, not being the type to back down and promptly swung the drink to the back of your mouth, quickly coughing before it even reached your throat.

“This shit is fucking gross.” You coughed out bringing the glass down from your lips.

  “Imagine being sober. Can’t relate.” He said taking another shot.

  “I guess I should do that but ive passed the point of giving a fuck” You said sending yall into a giggling fit while somehow Makki was thrown in to support yall from falling over. You two carry on laughing ignoring everyone’s stares at you thinking about how much yall fit perfectly together.  

   Makki rearranges himself to sit back in his chair, far away, from the both of you, whispering “Damn. I’m really third wheeling.” under his breath. Getting a snicker out of Oikawa sitting next to him.

   “When your best friends are ignoring you. Sad times.” He continues bringing his bottle to his mouth getting no response.

  Issei chuckles and gets up shoving his hands in his pocket reaching for the cigarettes. Pulling them out while failing to find his lighter

  “Fuck.” He muttered

  “Any’all got a light?”

  No one responds so you sacrifice yourself “Yeah” you say reaching into your pocket grabbing out your prized possession of a hot pink, bedazzled lighter that you did yourself, reaching out to hand it to him.

  “Don’t lose it” you stated seriously trying not to break a smile.

  “K’ sweet cheeks.” He said smirking into the butt between his lips as he walked away. Your face now burning up, hoping that everyone would think it was because of the alcohol.

  You mind wanders, thinking about the “dates” you two go on, from watching shows you “forcing” him to watch some romantic anime, to going to the skatepark, to playing video games with the rest of the 3rd years (which you don’t really like but you’ll play for him) and him surprising you with takeout, you bringing out candles trying your best to make it cute with him telling u everything you everything about his day.

  And you always tried to remain calm, even though sometimes he deserved to get his ass beat, like that one time he broke one of your favorite pair of heels. It honestly hurt him even more, he wanted you to get mad at him but no, you just acted like nothing happened. Making the guilt rise in him. Let’s just say didn’t have to lift a finger for the next few weeks.

You basically babied him, taking care of all his “chores”, mainly making him food when you were at his place knowing he hated doing it. Makki teasing you for acting like his housewife, leading to you slapping the shit outta him while trying to cover your now red cheeks.

You’ve never been so grateful for your attire at the moment, blessing yourself for not wearing your usual outfits of short skirts and cute tops, defending yourself saying what housewife dresses in beat up vans and baggy clothes. You definitely not imaging yourself in that position for the rest of the day.

 You expressed that you just liked to take care of people, which was true. You always looked out for them, bringing an extra umbrella, to bringing cookies you made at 2 in the morning to school, always carrying band-aids (yes, the paw patrol ones you took from the kids you babysit).

You checked the time on your phone seeing it was late since the sun at last went down, your lock screen being your dogs to their complaint since they have a group photos of you all from high school as theirs. To which you replied “They’re my babies” getting a groan and huff out of them.

  Seeing the notifications of your group chat you grinned at the contact name you and Issei gave each other; yall jokingly call each other pet names, his contact being honeybun and yours being pumpkin, even including Makki in your contacts as pudding bc then it wasn’t weird, right? no.

  “What’re you smiling at y/n?” Oikawa cheekily asks teasing you. You turn to him giving him a dirty look, not having enough energy to deal him right now.

  “Don’t listen to his bullshit.” Oikawa’s girlfriend says. You’re thankful for her. She was always on your side, being the only other girl in your friend group. To be honest you just wanted her and you to hang out most of the time, but of course to your disapproval her boyfriend and his friends had to join in.

  “Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m sleeping.” You say getting up to her objection, the only thing on your mind wanting to retire for the night.

  “You sure you’ll be fine? Let us at least walk you home.” She said already grabbing her boyfriend’s arm.

  “Nah, im good. I live right down the road.” You try to say not slurring. The last thing you want is him teasing you even more, especially in this state, knowing you, you’d probably start crying at the slightest irritation when youre this drunk.

    You started to “walk” towards your house resting  your hand against the brick walls to not lose your balance, leading you to run into Issei. You stopped to watch him lean against the alley holding a cigarette between his index and middle finger.

  “I’m hiding like a bitch” He says noticing you, resting his weight against the wall.

 “Wanna be a bitch with me? He grinned  blowing out the smoke out with his words.

You didn’t reply, just walking over to him, just being around him made you feel warm.

"Fuck its windy.” He says trying to light a new cig.

“C’you make me a house?” He asks.

You go up and put your hands around his cigarette, this not being your first time. Your hands wrap a little tighter to prevent the wind from burning out his flame. He joins you with his free hand helping, finally getting his cig to light.

 “Thanks doll” He smirks.

“No problem princess.” You reply earning a laugh out of him.

He takes his first hit with his and your hands still wrapped around it. He gets an up-close look at your hands, noticing how tiny they were, seeing all the scars that he never noticed, making a mental note to ask you how you got them later.

His head gets close to yours for the first time in a while due to his height. You glance at his face, noticing his features seeing some stubble growing on his face.

“You ain’t shave?” You ask, never seeing it in the past, while he was moving back up, blowing the smoke away from you.

“What, you don’t like my majestic beard? “He jokes. Making you giggle almost losing your balance before catching yourself on the wall.

  “s’too much work.” He starts. “You wanna shave it for me?” he says slightly leaning towards you. Handing you back your lighter knowing you didn’t need him to carry it because your pants actually had pockets in them for once.

You let out a soft laugh not responding again. He catches on, you got quiet when you were tired and he made out that you were walking towards your house.

“You going home?” he asks already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” You respond more than happy to have him walk you back, him already moving to walk next to you.

He walks you home, you two talking about random shit, both of you forgetting about your skateboards leaving Makki to deal with them. And even though you’re drunk as fuck you’re still in the right state of mind, carrying a normal conversation with him. But just because you’ve built a tolerance doesn’t mean you can do basic tasks, like walk correctly.

When he reaches your house, he types in the keycode, your first dogs birthday, being glad that you, him and Makki have each other’s memorized.

He leads you into you house setting you on the couch, petting your dogs that ran up to him.

“Mommy’s not feeling too good” He said giving them the affection they deserved.

“Yes I am.” You slurred getting them attention on you now.

He walked over to your counter putting on the playlist that you two made together on shuffle, High fashion being the first to play. You didn’t like when it was quiet because too many thoughts would run though your head. You were in no way sad, singing the lyrics while you were laughing barely being able to hold yourself up as proof.

Remembering you were tired, he takes you off the couch and borderline carries you to your room, , setting you on your plush blankets that you had so many of because it was warm and comfy.

 “Easy, there. Try to sit up.”He said, trying to ask you what draws your pj’s were in because he didn’t want to snoop around; neither of you being bothered that you were half naked, what’s the difference between panties and a bikini, he thought remembering the times you’ve been to the beach together.  

Well it was maybe the fact that you were clinging onto him because u stumbled into him and he was closest stable thing around and you wouldn’t let go because it was cold and you couldn’t stop shaking.

 He ignores his thoughts and grabs the shirt he got out figuring you don’t need to change your bra because you told him and Makki that it was normal to keep it on for a few days after they were in awe as you were explaining how expensive they were. You calling Oikawa’s girlfriend to prove your point as she immediately agreed with you…Sometimes you might have got a little too comfortable with them.

You hear the song in the background change to Love Songs, you humming along, “Hope you smile when you listen.”

You were still holding on to him, your boobs squeezing against him, him only being able to put a t-shirt on you, while you looked up at him with your red glossy eyes making him burn up.  

You fidget timidly with your face now in his chest while gripping his sweater. Trying to build up the little courage you had. He tilts your head up making you look at him, wondering what you were thinking about.

  You try to express yourself, but you can’t get the words out him having no idea what is going on in your head at the moment.

“It’s okay to be nervous sometimes. Tell me” He gently says reading your body language. He was intuitive, so there was no way you could hide your feelings from him.

But you knew you could trust him, him having full self-control, always staying collected and following through on what he said he’d do.  He went out of his way to avoid any friction coming between you two, him never raising his voice or starting an argument.

“We need to talk.” You started. “About something important.”

“Ok…What is it?” He questioned rubbing his hands on your back. You were so nervous, were you really about to say this? Confess your feelings that you’ve pushed to the back of your heart for so long?

“I… I l… I love your face. And the stuff in it. and around it.” You spoke, being surprised you did it stutter.

He stood there, hands stopped moving trying to process what you just said.

“Just you, in general…”  You finally confess trying to state three things at once barely getting your words out.

But he understood exactly what you meant, or maybe he was warping what you said to fit what he wanted.

  "I don’t even know when I started liking you, but this shit won't go away." You restated

  Nope. He clearly just heard you say that.

  He doesn’t understand what’s so different about today. Yall have been in this scenario multiple times taking care of each other, sometimes including another into the mix.  

You didn’t understand either. You just felt like the time was right, even though you know it wasn’t the best idea to confess while you were drunk off your ass.

But you couldn’t help it, your feelings overflowing, which you never until this day let get the best of you, being vulnerable and trusting is not your usual . Youve never even had a crush on anyone, him being to only in your whole life to make you blush.

  Who you been vibin' wit and why I can't make you mine?

  You should have seen the signs that you feel for him when he helped that lady that lives down the street from him set up her Christmas lights or when he first met your dog that wasn’t fond of men, but it instantly liked him. And you loved his selflessness it was something you admired and applauded.

  “y/n” He tries talking you down, making sure you weren’t just saying this because of alcohol, deep down knowing he felt the same, you always being in the back of his mind.

You were generous with your time too, always being there for him. You knew he was softer than he appeared, he was tender, sensitive and vulnerable. He tried his hardest to not get into situations where anyone would get hurt, like breakups, arguments, and so on.

Which is why he won’t make the first move. He pushes his feelings to the back of his head. He values your friendship more than anything, but he can see what develops. If love is meant to be, it will happen.

I told you I am down for the worse or the better. But I keep sticking to you cause them four stupid letters

    “You make me so happy. And I’ll always care about you. Okay? He says breaking the silence, trying to reassure you.  

  “You mean so much to me—something I can’t even put into words because nothing can compare- I’ve wanted you since that day you tripped and bust your ass in the school hallway I still want you even though you drive me insane.”

  “Iss-“ You tried to get out only to have him continue talking over you.

  "I love that you can’t leave the house without a jacket. I love the wrinkles that appear on your forehead after you call me crazy. I love that it takes you hours to get ready. I love that you always know how to make me feel better. I love that even when you don’t agree with my decisions you always trust me to make them.  I love that when I spend a day with you, I can still smell you on my clothes; and I love that you are the last person I think of  before I go to sleep at night."

  You stood there awestruck for what feels like eternity until you mustered the bravery to speak “I didn’t expect you to feel the same way-” You said, being dumbfounded because from what you’ve seen treats everyone “nice”, were you really getting special treatment?

  He tilts your chin up, locking his dark eyes with yours. “Baby I don’t know if your notice but you and Makki are my only people that aren’t my family that call me my first name.”

He has a point. You think pushing yourself more into him, trying to fuse your bodies together to hide, not relaxing what you were doing to him. He tries to nudge your legs to the side but you won’t let go still clinging onto him.

“fuck” He groans. You pulling back wondering why until you looked down and noticed. A smirk appeared on your face as you reattached your self to him like velcro. You were feeling bold, the liquid courage still in your system driving you to slide your fingers down his chest, looking him in the eyes before stopping at his waistband.  

He knows what you’re doing, him being in this position multiple times. Does he really want to ruin your friendship like this? He hasn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend. He tries to push you off him already knowing you were gonna complain. But what he didn’t expect was for you to whimper out his name in that pretty voice of yours.

 He tried to keep his calm, blood already rushing down. “You know what you’re doing”

“yeah” You start.

“y’don’t want me?” Giving him your pouty face that you know he’s weak for, hoping that’ll work, insecurity piling up. Was it because your boobs weren’t that big or that fact that you were dressed like man? Was he not attracted to you right now, only liking you when you were dolled up?

“Fuck” You think. You should have worn something cute instead of dressing like a whole ass man even with your makeup fully done. Its not like you were supposed to know you were gonna get fucked today.

His were burning holes into you now, thinking of how to say “No, I would be more that happy to fuck you!” to his best friend, soon regaining his consciousness finally speaking.

“Fuck no doll, ive wanted you for a minute. You know me better than I know myself. How did you not notice my feelings?”

 You got me singing love songs, love songs, love songs

“You’re really hard to read” You replied trying to maintain your seductive act, resting your hands back on his chest.

“So are you.” He said lowering his head, you still looking up at him, taking in your gleaming eyes.

Sex ain't the only thing that's on my mind But you get me so excited, whoa

Your heart was beating so wildly that you could only take little sips of breath. His hands running down your waist stopping at your hips.

“Can I kiss you?" He asks "...yeah” you attempted to say as confidently as you could, nodding your head along with it.

His face bent down, hot mouth breathing over you. His lips slowly moved, brushing over yours, the liquor on his lips that you hated; only choosing fruity drinks even though you got relentlessly teased you for it.  You pushed further into the kiss desperately wanting more. Your teeth clicking his from being impatient, wanting to suck him in. Your hands sliding under his shirt subconscious desires reaching out.

Irreplaceable Tattoos from your neck that drop down to your ankles

“You’re drunk…” he says snapping you out of your trance.

“So are you.”

He dove in for another kiss much more passionate than the previous one, arguably needy, pusing you on the bed to which you more than happily comply. He tugs back not letting his mind get the best of him, disconnecting your spit trial leaving you panting. “You sure this alright?” He says deep down hoping you still say yes.

  You pull him back for your answer, your grabby little hands working their way back up his shirt. He gets the hint and pauses your lips rendezvous, taking off the turtleneck that he looked oh so good in, before seeing his unclothed body.  You’re admiring his body in a new way, before just complimenting him whenever he got a new tattoo, now up under him tracing them like a lovestruck teenager.

“When did you get this one?” You quietly ask, his ears closer to you than they’ve ever been.

“I got it that day you faked sick”

“What! You said were gonna take me!” You sulked, turning your head away from his as much as you could, crossing your arms.

He let out a slight laugh before gently taking your face in his hands, guiding you back into the kiss.

This is not really what he imagined for your first time. He’s an old-fashioned romantic who likes to take one step at a time. But then again nothing was ever normal with you. That said, when he falls in love, he falls deep.

“You’ve done this before?” You uttered.

“Hmm?” He mumbles, unmoving his lips from you kissing you, moving towards your neck.

“You still with that other girl?”

“No. I broke it off her, everything that came out of her mouth was bullshit, and no she wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“You didn’t trust her? You added. Trying to distract him until you could think of a way you could say “hey in my 21 years of life I’ve never got passed kissing a guy.”

“Our relationship was purely built on lies, I’d second guess everything she said. He replied, wondering if you were interrogating him.

“Why’d you wanna know?” He asked bringing his face up from your skin.

“…No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.” You bashfully admitted, thoughts racing through your head that he didn’t want you anymore because you weren’t experienced.

But he knew what was running through that pretty head of yours, his fingers reaching out to with your hair trying to comfort you.

“You’re a virgin?” He curiously asked dragging his hand to your cheek, you leaning into it.

“y-yeah” you muttered trying to move your eyes away from his looking down at his body.

“I thought you had a boyfriend before” he said, softly turning your jaw to make you look at him. Your eyes diverted from his arms back to his eyes.

“We weren’t actually dating” You quickly say trying to clear up the misunderstanding. “He was my friend and seatmate that pretended to be my fake boyfriend to get me out of some trouble” you spewed out “and I guess I forgot to tell everyone that it was fake.”

“Even if we were that doesn’t mean we fucked.” You sheepishly replied.

“So… what trouble did your fake boyfriend get you out of.” He questioned knowing how much trouble it must have been for you, miss independent, to go to such lengths.

“Umm, well…this guy wouldn’t stop flirting with me even after I told him I don’t like him, even following me to my other classes.”

He wasn’t surprised, you were definitely a sight for sore eyes, in fact the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes on, your beaming eyes, your dimple when you smiled, your pretty face, your “ugly” laugh, he could go on for days.

“Why are we talking about this” You whined, reaching your hand back out to him.

He took a hint and continued kissing you, bringing you closer to him while you attempted to take you shirt off. His hands helping you seeing as that you were struggling, being lost in his touch, finishing by moving you up more on you bed, pushing your plushies out of the way, to your protested because “they had feelings too.”

He ignored you, bending down to pull your panties off stopping once he saw the slick coming through them.

“Fuck baby you’re wet” He breathed dragging his fingers across your clothed slit earing a whimper from you, leaving his fingers drenched.

 Shawty, you wanna feel good, I wanna feel good too Don't I make you feel good?

“M’always wet.” you responded.

From what? He questions taking off your soaked cotton panties, tossing them to the side.

“From me?” He smirks bringing his hand back towards your heat. You not even comprehending what he just said, just knowing that you’re ashamed of how worked up you were getting.

You were in awe. You’ve always known his hands were big, but in this situation your mind wondered. His fingers were so much bigger than yours knowing you can barely fit two inside your with out it hurting, and not in a good way.

“Do you know how pretty you are? It’s honestly distracting.”. He says kissing down your whole body, stopping at your breasts, licking lazily around and coming back to the nub. The attention on your nipples making you squirm and he finally lets go, you grateful that he stopped or you would have almost cum, how embarrassing.

“I thought you said were gonna get them pierced” He remembered, you going on a whole rant about how cute they were.

“You said u were gnna get em with me” You looked back on, reminding yourself making him promise to get them with you because you were too scared of the pain.

“That was the same day you played sick and I got that tattoo.” He stated lightening the mood, hoping you can calm yourself down before you actually embarrass yourself.

He picks back up and continues kissing all the way down your body, you playing with his hair while biting your lip to muffle your moans and whine until he reaches your entrance.

He parted your legs, your pussy laid out before him, believing you no have reason to be shy about it either. He paused, admiring your swollen cunt and puffy clit, you were beautiful.

The feeling that he didn't want anyone else ever in his position overtook him. He let out a little breath on your clit and you thrashed around. He wasn't going to play. “I’ll take care of you.”

His lips travel over your skin, light and heated before settling himself between your legs, grabbing you by your thighs and dragging you closer. “That tickles.” you giggle, nerves making you kick your legs, almost hitting him in the face before he grabs them. He puts them down locking your legs with his arms, lowering himself until he’s on the ground facing you.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” he teases while your covering your face trying to hide the blush he caused.  He puts his mouth on you, quickly gripping your thighs, his hands leaving imprints in your skin dragging you even more into him, deprived kisses taking over your body. 

“yer so pretty” You purred seeing the sight of his big build between your legs, your fingers grabbing onto his curly dark locks, tugging them.

  Issei moans, his voice radiating through your body, forcing out a cry, blessing him with your pretty voice. “I-Issei!” You cry, never feeling like this before, your vibrator and hands doing it no justice.

“Shh, just look at me, doll.”

You can barely make out what he says, so drunk on pleasure. You try your best, doing anything to see the pretty man beneath you. But you get interrupted by your pleasure, your back arching not being able to control your body, grinding down to meet his lips, heat rising in you.

He kisses through your wetness playing with your bud. You choking on your spit, back arching again your body tensing up. “Issei,” You beg, grabbing him knowing what you want but not being able to express it. Luckily he can read you like an open book, knowing what you want, driving you over the edge as he makes you see stars. “Good girl,” he sighs when he feels you let go of his wrist letting him bring you your first orgasm.

“Look at your thighs shaking so much.” He teasingly cooed, wrapping his hands around them, bringing you out of your daze.

Shawty, your body is so exciting

Arching your back into the blankets, letting out a whine “Want your fingers.”.

He lets out a condescending laugh. “You need to learn to be patient. You just came and you’re already so eager for more?”

But by the time he finished your body went limp, you were totally weak, body loose-limbed and pliant. Your mind clouded by lust and deep in your own world. You gasped out a little sob, unable to comprehend anything beyond the discomfort and the need to have it gone. You can’t think straight all you can do is take action, grabbing his arm him easing his fingers into to you.

It’s not too tight, is it?” you ask clenching around his fingers.

 “Just relax… let yourself feel it” He says barely being able to move in you. Fuck so were so tight.

“I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” He added starting to thrust them inside you, making you let out a string of moans.

“Look how good you take it.”  

“Fuck, you’re so messy.” He groaned feeling the slick running down his hands, before taking them out.

“Issei-i,” You cried when he pulled away, pleasure leaving you, tears coming back.

  He shushes you easily, his fingers wiping your tears. You were so precious to him, your moans music to his ears.  He slows down repositioning his fingers, making you let out a whimper squeezing around them. Your brains so crowded you can’t focus, can’t gather the strength to speak when he thrust them faster inside you.

  Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you fell back, fingers curling inside you, chanting his name over and over, incoherent words coming out of your mouth begging for more. 

You pussy tightens as you cum, unable to breath, letting out gasps and whines. Him still fucking you, fingers not stopping, pushing them in and out relentlessly feeling both pain and pleasure. You lay there, wet in your own cum not giving yourself a break before you went and got what you really wanted, his cock.

His eyes followed the movement of your hands as they pushed down his boxers, revealing the length of his cock, that jutted proudly from his hips. He was so pretty, so virile and handsome. Wondering how lucky you were to be in such a position with him.

You pushed away those thoughts and focused on him, pulling him forward gently, but he followed his encouragement. One of his hands tilted his cock down toward your lips. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

You parted them instantly, tongue sliding slightly outward, and then you whimpered as the warm weight of his cock slid into your mouth. You let your eyes flutter closed and swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock not knowing exactly what you were doing, but it was working, tasting the salty tang of the precum that wept from his leaking slit. You moved your tongue as the he put his hand into your hair, gripping the strands and pushing deeper into his mouth.

“You look so good on your knees like that. “He says meeting your eyes once again, almost cumming from the picture below him.

“Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” He says slowing you down by grabbing your hair, making a pace that you follow.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that.” Seeing that sinful look in your eyes with your redden swollen lips.

You moan feeling yourself drip down your thighs, getting even wetter giving him head. Trying to ease the discomfort by closing your legs, griding them together, trying to find some friction. Your ears hearing “That’s so fucking hot.” watching the scene unfold beneath him.

Your jaw hurts, trying got make him cum faster using your hands and lips together hollowing your cheeks. “Oh fuck, oh, Jesus, fuck yes, there, just like that, fucking Christ" he groans out, his voice sounded beautiful to your ears, knowing he was about to cum.

He finally lets go cumming in your mouth, you swallowing it all, trying not to wince at the taste. “Did I do good” You ask waiting for his reply. Your doll eyes, so red and worn out looking up at him for approval. Fuck he was whipped.

“Yeah…fuck baby”

I love when you get on top and you ride it

You get back under him, his cock resting on you, drenched and clenching around nothing, resting in your cum. You working yourself up against him.

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” He says to your complaint.

“You’re not ready yet.” he mumbles against your whining. Spreading your legs, slapping your clit a few times before letting his cock rest on your folds. Finally getting “seated” he picks up your legs and puts them both on one of his shoulders your thighs warming his cock, your knees touching his cheek not moving, getting a kick out of how desperate your were for him.

“s-stop being mean” You cried reaching out for him to come closer, needing affection after all you’ve been though.

“Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you? He says leaning into you, reaching your kiss, tasting the remnants of the cum in your mouth.

He plundered your mouth and slowly teased his cock over your entrance, catching it against your clit and making you whimper into the kiss, clearly wanting to be fucked. Your kiss turned you sucking on Issei’s tongue and lips, biting the swollen pout until his lips were red and puffy. He pulled back and looked down at you, a beautiful mess under him.

His fat cock head pushed between your folds. The moan escaping both of your lips was primal. You were turned on beyond imagination and the way he was thrusting forward, spreading his leaking precum on your wet clit was almost too much. He quickly picked up his pace fucking your folds, his warm head brushing against your clit with every movement, but your greedy self wanted more.

The fact that he made you cum so easily made you proud. Just because you’ve never gone this far with someone else doesn’t mean you’ve never cum, you’ve had a lot of practice over the years, being insatiable, the sheets soaked underneath you from your previous orgasms being proof.

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.” He moans getting your attention him.

You tried, you really tried, but the way he was stroking you, imagining what it’d be like to actually sit on his cock, the lewd sounds echoing in the background leaving you unable to focus.

He taps on your cheek eventually getting you look at him, keeping your mind on him by placing his fingers in your mouth you letting him, hazily sucking on them, not being able to close your mouth.

“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.” He grumbles. Your spit dripping onto his fingers, the friction of your thighs making him feral, moving at an even faster pace. Your body bouncing with every thrust.

“You gonna cum after I cum on your little clit? Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.” You sob feeling the puddle beneath you, time slowing, fire pooling in your tummy.  Listening to his words you let yourself go. You come with a silent scream as the pleasure ripped through your body, your nails scratching his soft skin. Your vison fading to black feeling him lose his rhythm and moaning a mixture of curse words along with your name, feeling him cum on your tummy before resting his head in your neck while letting your legs go.

“So good for me, look at how much you came.” He says breaking the static. You whining into his shoulder, emotions high, never doing this before.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.” He says. You two laying in silence for an unclear amount of time, him rubbing your back while you rest in his chest almost dozing off.

“Are we still…friends?” You croak out trying to hold back your sobs already knowing the answer that you two were defiantly not friends now and never would be just friends again.

“Friends don’t do this type of shit” He maintained grabbing your shoulders to sit you and him up. You were worried, did he only do this with you because he was drunk? You were anxious that you scared him away because you just poured your heart out to him and pushed yourself on him. You left your head down, tears already coming out to your dismay. You moved your hand up to wipe them but he beat you to it.

“Look at me… I love you.” He says holding your cheeks in his palm. You in awe, hoping that you weren’t imagining it, that this was real life.

“R-really” You question making him worry too, preferring to forgive and forget rather than letting this a divide between the two of you in case you went back on your feelings. You were so overwhelmed, never feeling love until this moment, so happy that the person you longed for liked you back. Yours tears running once again.

 “Shh, shh, it’s alright...Don’t cry.”

You don’t even know why you were crying, the hangover already getting to you making you get a headache. You groaning in his arms complaining that your head and throat hurt.

“Ill be back” he says detaching himself from you, letting you know he was coming right back.

He walks to your fridge opening it to see every drink but water, having too dig through all of them, especially the absurd amount of apple juice guessing it was your “once a year craving for it”. He finally got you some cold water, putting It in a cup and waked back to your room.

  “Issei” you whined not picking your head up from the pillow.

  “Shh baby im right here.”

  He sat down beside you on your bed lifting your head up. “Here drink this” he reassured, to which you ignored not wanting anything to go in your mouth, just wanting the day, or night as it was now, to end.

  “It’s just water, honey, look.” You sat yourself up with his help seeing him in just his boxers, you remembering your still naked, not caring enough to cover yourself. He held to glass to your mouth, babying you, tilting it far back enough to where you could drink it. The water hit the back of your mouth feeling like a shot making you cough.

“I know, it hurts. I’m sorry but we have to” He stated. You continued to drink it, feeling the stinging in the back of your throat, him comforting you, calling you “good girl” which was unsurprisingly working.

  He put the cup on your dresser when you finished, climbing back into bed with you leaning your body into his. “Have you ever thought about...us? Y’know, as an...item?” he said causing you to look at him with wide eyes.

 “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” He insisted making you cheeks flush. You try to think of a way to respond, not wanting to keep him waiting.

“You’re the best thing that has, and ever will, happen to me. Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.” You stammer out, your shaky hands somehow made there way to his neck, letting them fall slowly before he grabs them dragging you in for a kiss before you got to even see his face.

“Everybody has always thought we’re a couple.” He continued taking his time kissing you all over your face. “Then I guess we should be.” You retort, kissing him back before you could see his reaction, not wanted to be embarrassed anymore today. But he caught you, holding you still “Really “y/n? Like deadass?” He asked.

  “Yes dummy, I want to be your girlfriend” You say causing him to grin swearing you’ve never seen him smile that big, before he gives you one last kiss.

  “I always kiss you on the cheek, why are you blushing now? He teases laying back down, you following along. You just snuggle into him mumbling something along the lines of “m’tired”, he understanding and speaking to you in a soft, gentle voice while helping you to bed, so he doesn’t make it harder for you to sleep by being loud. “I’m here love, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers into your ear mkanig your heart swoon one last time before you pass out.

  “I l-love you issei.” You sleepily mumble.

“Tell me this when you’re sober.” He says stroking your head.

“Just relax, close your eyes...”He murmurs, your heart beating slower every second. Both of you together, lazy, slow presses. Limbs pressed together, chests heaving, fingers trailing down backs, tracing lazy patterns.

  “Oh!…” He remembers. “If you really wanna get them pierced, we could get matching ones.”

© all content belongs to spikesbimbo. do not alter or repost .

[skzsauce01]

For You

Anniversary Request Special

Description: You and Minho are a little more than just an heiress and her bodyguard, but you know your parents would never approve of a relationship like this unless...

Warning: anxiety, injury

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: fem!reader x bodyguard!Minho

He is buttoning up his shirt after a warm shower when his phone buzzes. He smirks at your caller ID on the screen before picking it up. “What, miss me alr—”

“Hi. Sorry to bother you.”

Minho drops his smile and grips his phone tighter at the tone of your voice. Panic bubbles in his chest. “Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m just… out right now, and it got dark a little quicker than I thought. I know you’re off the clock on Sundays, but—”

“It’s okay. I'm coming to get you. Where are you?”

“I’m near the 7-11 near your house. The one with the blue umbrellas in front.”

“Okay. Go inside for now. I’m coming.”

“Alright. Thank you, Minho. And sorry.”

“Don’t be; it’s my job. Call again if something happens before I get there.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be there shortly.”

Minho doesn’t even bother drying his hair and dashes out the door. He runs and runs, unease crawling up his skin, but when he sees you through the window of the convenience store, his stomach completely drops. There you stand with your shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around yourself, and knees bowed in, a stark contrast to the proud heiress he is used to seeing. 

The worker who is leaning over the counter seems to be saying something as Minho bursts in. “If you aren’t buyin’, pay for your loitering with cha number, sugar.”

Minho slaps a bill on the counter and takes a bag of chocolates. “There. She’s a customer,” he hisses. Turning to you who looks shocked by his sudden appearance, he asks, “Are you okay?”

You nod dumbly. 

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” He puts a hand on the small of your back and guides you to the door, using himself to shield you from the eyes of the worker.

He thought you’d relax a little after getting away from the creep, but your posture remains closed off. He wants to ask why but does not know if you’re ready for that yet. Instead, you break the silence first.

“Thank you for coming, and sorry for ruining your Sunday.”

“Y/N, you know I’m always ready to be by your side.” 

He looks for clues. You have on a deep blue dress, minimal jewelry, and light makeup. In other words, effortlessly enchanting, but that’s not important; you went to something fancy but not overly formal. A first date? Minho’s heart starts racing at the thought. He needs to know. “What were you doing out here by yourself?”

You bite your lip. Instead of answering, you tug on the cuff of his shirt gingerly with the tips of your fingers. “I-is it alright if I don’t talk about it?”

His chest breaks at how fragile your voice is. He stops in his tracks and looks at you.

“I-is it not?” you squeak.

“Of course it is.”

“Then why are you—”

“You look like you need this.”

He steps up to you under the streetlight and wraps you into a hug, gently stroking your back.

“Minho!” you gasp. “What if someone sees?”

You’re an heiress. Your choices of men are Chan from JY Group, Changbin from Seo Enterprise, or even Jisung from Han Motors. Lee Minho the bodyguard is definitely not on that list even if your heart is taking flight from this small gesture of endearment.

“Why does that matter?” he hushes you.

“If Father finds out, you’d lose your job.”

“I’d rather that than not be able to be here for you when you need it,” he says plainly and holds you tighter when you try to push him away.

Gradually, he feels you give up and give in to his embrace. Finally, he feels you begin to shake as tears escape your eyes.

“It was so scary,” you whimper. “I was so scared.”

Your words are like hammers battering his chest,making it impossible to breathe. He holds you tighter and speaks quietly, letting the vibration of his voice calm you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay now. I’m right here. Nothing can hurt you.”

You arrive at the gates of your house, an empty bag of convenience store chocolates between your fingers.

“Minho?”

“Yes?”

“Father can’t know what happened. Are my eyes swollen?”

He turns you by the shoulder so he is directly looking into them. “Not at all. They’re—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees your father approaching, and cuts his sentence short. “Good evening, Mister L/N,” he greets.

“Ah, Minho. What are you doing here on a Sunday?”

“I found Miss Y/N around my neighborhood and thought it best to escort her home.”

“You found her around your neighborhood?” 

“Yes, I was just taking an evening stroll.”

“Evening stroll?” he echoes yet again. The old man looks at the younger one’s wet, unbrushed hair.

Minho can’t do a thing but cough nervously, knowing how weak his lie is.

Thankfully, your father does not comment further. He looks between the two of you and smiles to himself. “Alright. Since you’re here, you should escort her all the way to the house.”

“Yes, sir,” Minho bows. When he straightens up again, he grins at you. “Shall we go?”

You nod with a smile of your own. “Thank you, Minho. Really.”

“Like I said, I’m always here for you.”

He cheekily takes your hand in his and hides it behind his back in case your father turns around.

“Oh, and Y/N?” he whispers.

“Hm?” 

He swipes an eyelash that fell with your tears from your cheek. “They’re not swollen; they’re beautiful.”

Your father coughs loudly in front of you.

The following week, you accompany your parents to a showing of the latest models of Han Motors. Of course, this means Minho is to lurk around in the shadows and follow you all night. At least, that’s what he’s supposed to do instead of being dragged out to the main floor by you to discuss which refreshment tastes the best.

“You know, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have just said so,” Minho teasingly whispers into your ear.

“Shush and try this.” You roll your eyes and stuff a truffle-topped cracker between his lips. 

Minho chews for a moment before commenting, “Not great. Better than the cherry thing earlier, but the truffles your uncle gave you last time was better.”

You take one and mull over it yourself. “You’re right. This one’s too sweet.”

“Like someone I know,” he sighs off-handedly.

You snort. “I can’t tell if you’re talking about me or yourself.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, so you think I’m worthy of being called ‘sweet?’”

“Good gracious,” you roll your eyes.

The two of you have tried less and less to suppress your flirting. Thankfully, most of your comments are made in indecipherable whispers or behind closed doors, so most people haven’t noticed, but those who did definitely have a thing or two to say about it.

“Y/N!” Your mother’s voice breaks your conversation. 

You walk quickly past displays of shiny luxury cars to where she is. “Yes, Mother?”

She looks past you at Minho. “This does not involve you.”

Without missing a beat, he bows. Before he leaves though, you flash him a hand signal. Stay nearby. 

“You should meet the Hans’ son tonight,” your mother tells you after Minho is gone from her sight.

“Mother, I’ve already met him at my birthday party last year.”

“Yes, but this time, meet him as a man like you’re supposed to, you understand?”

“Mother, Jisung already has his eyes on—”

“Madam Han!” your mother calls before you can even finish your sentence. You close your eyes to roll them and let your shoulders slouch, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

The said woman walks over, her son in tow to help his mother introduce new cars. “Madam L/N! It is good to see you.”

First the sweet talk.

“Your face is smaller every time I see it. How do you do it?”

“Oh, you flatter me!”

Then an indirect indication of true intentions.

“It’s the truth! You simply must tell me your secrets. In the meantime, let’s have our children play amongst themselves.”

Madam Han quickly understands her implication. “Of course! They must be bored being around us old ladies. Jisung dear, take care of Miss Y/N, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mother,” he promises obediently.

You watch as the two women walk away in a fit of faux compliments. Despite leaving the two of you alone, you know they have hawk eyes on you to make sure you do as they intend.

“So,” you decide to play along, “we, uh, meet again, Jisung.”

“Yep.” He clasps his hands in front of him and looks around nervously. Not much of a conversationalist, you note.

“Tell me about this car.” You motion towards a blue SUV nearby.

“Ah, yes!” You can see the boy light up from having something he can actually talk about. “This is the Model YG. It is a family car, but it certainly does not leave out the power and class of a…”

You soon tune him out. You both know you have no interest in cars anyway, and he’s just glad to have something to fill the silence with. Your eyes begin to wander, and you catch sight of something darting around. You first pass it off as your imagination, but when you see it again, alarms go off in your head.

You grab the arm next to you. “Minho.”

Jisung looks at you inquisitively. “I’m Jisung.”

“Sorry,” you apologize. “I need to find my bodyguard. I think there’s something—”

Just then, a low whistle cuts through the air. You look up and see the giant chandelier above you beginning to tilt.

“Run!”

Unfortunately, you are right at the center of the whole structure. You bolt away right behind Jisung, but there is just no way your stupid heels can keep up with his powerful strides. There isn’t much time. You aren’t going to make it. You can hear the lower hanging parts of the light structure crashing and shattering when someone tackles you to the floor, shielding you with his own body.

“Minho!”

He lets out a hallowed gasp as a metal rod strikes him in the back. He struggles to regain his breath but keeps his eyes trained on you.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” you repeat, knowing that’s what he wants to hear most. 

It’s your turn to worry about him now as he continues struggling to breathe. You help him sit upright, trying to avoid touching the million shards of glass impaling his skin. 

“Miss L/N!” You turn and see Jisung calling you from the perimeter of the mess. Thankfully, he does not look too scathed. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m—”

“Get away from my daughter!”

Amidst the panic and army of security running about, everyone looks up at your mother fuming on the second floor. It is only then you realize how intimate your position with Minho is. You’re seated between his legs, turned towards him, and he has his arms around you, using your body to press on his spazzing diaphragm.

A new voice directs everyone’s attention. “Are you crazy?” It is your father this time, pulling his wife away from the railings. “He just saved her! What are you doing?”

“Jisung was supposed to save her!”

“Jisung saved himself! Can’t you see? Minho’s the one who’s willing to risk himself for our daughter. What more do you have against that?”

You blush under the eyes your parents’ conversation has put on you, but Minho does not back down. He keeps you covered as you shrink in embarrassment. 

“Jisung just needs more time with her!” your mother continues. “He’ll learn to love her!”

“Like you ever learned to love me? How many years have we been married? How many years have we tried to learn to love? Do you really wish the same thing for our daughter?”

A wave of gasps ripple through the building. Security has caught the criminals who sabotaged the convention, but no one cares. You can feel your stock prices dropping. You and your family are going to be on the front cover of every gossip magazine tomorrow. You struggle to find something— anything— to distract the crowd from what was just said. You need something big— something even bigger than your father’s confession.

In the midst of your dilemma, it is Minho who speaks first. “Let’s date.”

Another gasp echoes across the crowd. At least that did the trick.

“What are you doing?” you whisper-scream at him.

“What?” he says not-so-quietly. “Your father’s giving me permission. We might as well make it official. I promise to protect you and cherish you for the rest of our lives. What do you say, Y/N?”

Jisung is the first to start chanting, “Say yes! Say yes!” and is soon joined by the rest of the party-goers. Your mother nearly faints and your father beams proudly.

“Okay,” you finally agree.

“Then kiss me,” he prompts, and you do. 

[jujutsubabe]

Taking care of them when they’re sick Headcanons

Itadori

Itadori gets a cold but he doesn’t want u to know/ get worried🥺

He didn’t bring an umbrella like u said he should and got caught in the rain,,,

He keeps ignoring ur calls and avoiding u, until eventually ur like 🤨🤨🤨 what’s going on?

And u see him looking like he’s gonna die, he’s breathing out his mouth and it’s all nasaly and his eyes are half lidded. He looks like a corpse.

“Itadori! Is this why u didn’t text me back? You need to take care of yourself!”

You readjust him and put a good fluffy pillow under him

He sniffled, “Sorry.... I didn’t want you to“ a sneeze interrupts him, “worry about me.. or get sick yourself.”

You rub his forehead and feel it burning up!!!

Ur like “I don’t mind taking care of you.. you do it for me all the time jeez! And I won’t get a cold if I keep my distance...”

He’s like “oh...I didn’t think about that..”

🙄🙄🙄🙄

U get him medicine and bring him food and u force him to chug down all the water.

He’s looking at u not wanting to take another, but you shake your head “next bottle.”

“But I don’t want to drink more.” He whines.

U ignore his pleading, already coaxing the bottle into his hand and he sighs chugging another down.

Take ur vitamins Itadori!!

(U use a picker upper tool thing to push him his stuff)

Ur basically covered head to toe in a hazmat suit.

U bring him mugs and cups and nasal sprays.. and so many blankets and movies!!!

He is truly being pampered....

He’s like “thank you,,” and puckers his lips for a kiss but u push him away with ur stick.

“I’m not getting sick, but I love you!” You blew him an air kiss making him frown.

Yeah this was nice, he couldn’t wait to kiss you tho,,,

Megumi

Wait he’s sick...?

You literally didn’t know.

Nobora was the one to tell you, “Tell your boyfriend he needs to take a break.”

“Why? Did something happen,?”

She stared at you for the longest time before she started, “He didn’t tell you...?”

“Tell me what?”

“That he has a flu...?”

U guys literally just came back from a very tiring mission.

What is wrong with him😐

Cue you storming into his dorm, seeing just what you imagined, Megumi coughing on his bed with his medicine by the side of his bed.

He always tried to take care of himself, even when he was less than capable. You wondered how he even crawled into that bed.

“Megumi.” You stood by his door and his eyes shot over to you.

“Oh, Hey.”

You had to restrain yourself from pinching his face. You began to rant about how he needed to tell you when he was sick!! How this was so unsafe and— did he even open his medicine?

You had to feed him his medicine and force water down his throat, despite his constant reassurance that “he was fine” and “didn’t need help.”

You sighed after he drank the last bottle, smoothing your hand over his forehead to check his fever.

“I want to help you.” You kissed your other palm, then pressed it to his cheek. “You just need to let me.”

His face heated up,,, not really from his cold... he turned his head away from you. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” You pinched his cheek, sweet Megumi he just needs love and proper care.

Gojo

this mf gets sick JUST so you can take care of him

You will see him doing perfectly fine, but as soon as you walk in the room he’s coughing and blowing his nose and whining for you in the other room.

You come in already tired.

“Satoru, What do you want?”

He opened and closed his hands, “Cuddle?”

You shook your head pushing his head back to his pillows, “I don’t want to get sick with you. Did you take your medicine?”

He put a finger to his pursed lips, “I think I forgot. Can you feed it to me?”

No matter how many times you denied him he continued to beg you to feed the medicine to him...

you glared the whole time, tilting his chin as you poured the spoonful down his mouth.

Was this a way for him to show off his jawline? I don’t know but it’s so prominent omg.

You traced your hand down his jaw to his neck, making him literally choke up and cough in the other direction.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his neck, you couldn’t kiss his face, but this was way more fun.

Before you pulled away he smiled down at you, making yours slip off your face, “My turn”

🪦 your neck, poor you.

[songbirdstyles]

when the levee breaks

summary: you’re a waitress and harry is being stood up.

warnings: brief smut, angst, fluff, love at first sight <3 kind of

song inspo.: when the levee breaks - led zeppelin

word count: 9.5k

There’s always a particular vibe you get from people going on first dates.

It’s an easy one to notice and you and your coworkers love pointing it out - it’s an air of hope and romance, people arriving dressed their very best yet still holding some sort of awkwardness. It’s sweet, actually, and quite adorable and they’re always the nicest to you, needing to impress their date and make sure they know that they’re respectful. It’s the same reason they leave such a hefty tip - likely wanting to show they’re, at the very least, wealthy enough to tip 20% on a $100 tab and not have it hurt their pockets, or to prove that they respect waitresses enough to help you pay your rent. They’re always the tables you’re desperate to serve, not only for the tip they leave you but because you love getting a clue as to how the date goes, and most times it’s good. Once, you’d heard the guy’s date inquire about kids before their meals came, and they’d left barely minutes after paying their bill. Another time, a couple had arrived at 6 and hadn’t left until 11 on a Thursday night - nearly two hours after closing, and you’d nearly had to shoo them out the door when they weren’t going fast enough.

It varies often, but still - first date couples are your favourite, and when you see him walk up to the host stand, you know he’s another one.

The uncomfortableness is what tips you off, fiddling with one of the numerous rings on his finger as he leans back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting behind an elderly couple hoping to grab a table outdoors for some drinks. He’s dressed well, tucking a loose curl behind his ear and rolling up his sleeves and when he makes it up he’s confirming a reservation f’two, under th’name Harry Styles, please. And the girl at the host stand - the youngest host your boss has hired, you reckon, though you’d need to fact check it to be sure - picks up her pen and crosses his name out in the reservation book, a thick line running through his information and phone number before she’s grabbing a stack of menus (specials, wine, beer, and general, respectively) and telling him to follow me this way, sir as she leads him outside.

Well, you don’t see exactly where Brianna takes him before you remember the four waters that table 306 had asked for, and it’s not like you to get distracted like that by a customer - you’ve been a waitress for nearly three years since starting college and yet, no patron has ever caught your eye like Mr. Harry Styles. It’s a damn paradox, really - you only see attractive guys like him when they’re on dates and, by that point, they’re spoken for. There’s no room for you to mosey in and you wouldn’t do that to another girl, anyway, but still. You suppose it doesn’t matter (he looks wealthy enough to leave a good tip with or without a date, truthfully) but it still has you sighing as you grab four glasses, scooping ice into them and beginning to fill them with water.

Distraction is a bad look on a waitress, your manager had told you the last time you’d gotten distracted by a pretty girl and nearly dropped the plate of pasta you were holding. It makes your smile seem forced. And that was the first month you’d started working, before you’d realized that most customers treated the staff like objects to use to make themselves look or feel better - you’d seldom had to use her advice since then. But there’s a first - or second - time for everything, isn’t there? And he is your second time.

 --

 After you’ve delivered your waters, though, you’re made uncomfortably aware of the fact that Brianna had, indeed, seated Harry in your section. And it isn’t a bad thing, per se, except he is the most attractive man you’ve ever met and you can only imagine what his date is going to look like when they show up - probably dressed to the nines like he is, just a tad too fancy for an establishment like this and you’re sure you’ll feel insecure in your work-issued shirt and jeans but you suppose there’s nothing to do about it.

You try not to make it too obvious as you fix your hair, tying your ponytail higher up onto your head because it had been slipping down and you’re really not a huge fan of low ponytails. Normally you don’t mind but - sometimes the circumstances change. 

He’s at table 305, leaning over his phone, fingers drumming against the table when you walk over to him, clutching two coasters in your hands and he looks up at you with a smile as you approach. And it’s easy - giving the same introductory speech you’ve given thousands of times before, telling him your name and how I’m going to be taking care of you tonight. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” you question, eyes flickering inconspicuously to the empty seat across from him. He’d pulled it out slightly, angling it out towards the sidewalk in clear anticipation of when his date enters so she can gracefully sit down without having to make a fuss about pulling the chair out - so he’s a gentleman, and it only worsens your moral dilemma at the situation. 

“I’ll jus’ have a water, f’now,” he responds, smiling up at you and you nod, reaching down to rest one coaster in front of him and the other in front of the other seat. “M’waiting f’someone - then I’ll get somethin’ else.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him, giving him a smile as if you had no idea he was waiting for someone when, in fact, you’d known the second he walked through the doors. Quickly your eyes dart up and down the sidewalk, checking to see if anyone’s walking with their sights set on your restaurant but there’s nobody - perhaps she’s late, or he’s early, but it’s not your place to speculate anyway. “I’ll be right out with that.”

And so you make your way back inside - you have to stop at table 303 because their daughter, so small her legs barely hang off the seat she’s sitting in, has finished her Coke and wants another and you take their dish of risotto balls with you, practically licked clean (in your opinion, they’re the best appetizers on the menu, and you’ve tried just about everything.) 301 got up, leaving nearly half a plate of polpo sitting there and a full untouched bottle of wine and you can recall them specifically declining your request to take their plates earlier, claiming they were still picking at it and clearly they changed their mind - but Brianna’s rushing out to clean everything up before you tell her to, and that’s good of her. She’s new - it’s always good to see the new workers doing well. You’ll tell your manager the next time you see her, you reckon, though you hope it’s not too soon. And then 306 waves you down, seconds away from screaming for you to notice them because the man wants some red pepper flakes to sprinkle onto his pizza and it all stacks up in your mind, but you just smile and nod and turn to rush inside before anyone else can flag you down.

You don’t notice Harry’s eyes on you, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

One Coke and one dish of red pepper flakes later and you’re returning to Harry’s table, resting his drink on his coaster. It’s barely been two minutes since he last requested the water and his initial look of hope and excitement hasn’t faded, even when his eyes flicker down to his phone as though to check for a notification when he thanks you for the water.

Oh, well. Dates are late all the time, and you don’t have time to ponder on it as 304 noisily stacks their plates on top of each other, and you swoop over to grab them before taking them inside. No, it certainly isn’t your place to wonder about the status of his date because you know that you’ve been late to dates too many times than you should’ve, what with classes and work and everything else you have to do in life. You barely have time to date anymore - when you’re not studying so late you can barely keep your eyes open you’re picking up shifts, working your ass off for a paycheck that goes straight to your landlord. You hardly even hang out with your friends anymore and you’re not sure if it’s a healthy sacrifice, giving up your friends to work and study and get far less sleep than the average 22 year old but you don’t quite have a choice, do you?

Maybe his date is in the same situation - you can’t fault her for it. It certainly makes her more relatable to you.

 --

 It’s been fifteen minutes and Harry still sits on his own, nails tapping against his phone screen, turning his head to glance up and down the sidewalk like you had before but there’s no one there to join him. Part of you feels bad as you rest a plate of mozzarella agnolotti in front of the two men at 302 and they dig into it like fucking heathens who haven’t eaten in months, and when you tell them to enjoy they call out thank you with their mouths full, bits of food flying onto the table, and you feel bad for when one of the hostesses has to clean it later.

It’s times like this that you’re thankful to be a waitress and not a host. Those times are few and far between, but they still come.

303 got their entrees and 304 has their check and you don’t have an excuse not to stop back at Harry’s table, even if feeling his eyes on you has your stomach turning and your face heating. Hopefully he can’t notice (and you have gotten fairly skilled at hiding your emotions with a wide smile that’s just about as fake as they come) and your prayers seem to answer themselves when you walk to his table, ducking beneath the umbrella that hangs above the two-top and meeting his eyes.

“You want a refill on that water?” You ask, motioning with a nod down towards his half-empty glass. It’s certainly not low enough to warrant bringing out the water pitcher but you’ll deal with the hassle - going table to table asking if they need refills and all the other shit you have to do because it seems discriminatory when you only offer it to one table. 

He looks up at his glass, tilting his head and screwing up his eyes as though he really needs time to decide whether he needs more water before shaking his head, curls flopping in front of his face as he pulls his glass closer to him. “S’alright.”

“Is your date running late?” And the second the words are out of your mouth you want to smack yourself - you know it’s unprofessional to comment like that especially when it’s that fucking obvious that you’re right. You may as well have asked him if the sky is blue, or if the time really is 6:15. Irrefutable facts are embarrassing to state aloud, especially when it would get you a stern talking to if your manager were to overhear.

But Harry doesn’t seem bothered by it, nor does he seem fazed by your sudden expression like you’d just bit into a lemon. In fact, he takes the comment in stride, resting his palms on the tabletop as he squints up at you - the sun shines behind you and you’re sure it’s in his eyes, and the fact that he took the sunny seat just adds another reason to consider him perfect. “Yeah, she is,” he confesses, twiddling with his rings again, and it’s nearly impossible not to drop your gaze to his fingers and watch him go. “But - y’know - she’s a nurse, an’ all that. Probably just had t’work late an’ forgot t’text. S’alright.”

You’re not sure what to say to that and for a second you stand there in silence as Harry taps his phone, surely checking to see if he’d received a text that hadn’t lit up his phone with the notification but there’s nothing except for the lockscreen - a blurry shot of a black and white cat, face close to the camera and tongue sticking out just so. Instead you clear your throat before saying, “I’ll go grab you some olives.”

“Olives?”

“Yeah - we give everyone assorted olives.” And suddenly, it sounds stupid, like giving your customers olives is something embarrassing when, in fact, it’s customary, but Harry’s looking at you with a certain curiosity, eyes bemused as if you’re entertaining him. “They’re actually quite good. I’m sure you’d like them.”

(In truth, you tried the olives once and had hated them, but you tell your customers that every single thing your restaurant offers is your favourite and the olives are no exception.)

“Oh.” Harry shrugs, then, leaning back in his seat as you duck back out from under his umbrella. “Well, if y’say so, m’sure I’ll like ‘em.”

You smile in agreement and there’s nothing left to add so you head towards the door, wiping your palms on your apron the second you’re inside. You’re sure you’ve had that exact conversation about olives of all things with ten other customers since you’ve worked here but it feels so different with him and it nearly scares you. There’s no reason you should feel so conflicted about a patron on a date who you’ve never met nor seen before but you suppose some things truly are unexplainable.

306 is ready for their check and as you grab a ramekin full of assorted olives you call to ask Brianna to print it out - there’s nobody at the door, anyway, and you need to find an empty dish for the olives, anyway. When you’ve got that and stashed the check in your apron you head back out and Harry’s sitting craning his neck glancing down the sidewalk and you hope, for his sake, that he’s right and she just got caught up at work. (And, for your own very selfish sake, you hope she doesn’t come.)

“I’ve got some olives for you,” you tell him, resting the two ramekins on the table in front of him and he glances down at them with an air of disgust that you most certainly relate to, and your face nearly splits open in a grin. “Well, they’re complimentary, anyway, so if you don’t like them, it’s not too big of a deal.”

“They look divine,” he says, and you know he’s lying but it still makes you smile. “I’ll tell y’how they are.”

“I’ll be waiting,” and that sounds like such a schoolgirl crush response and your face briefly tightens in a cringe before you walk off to 306, pulling their check out and depositing it on their table. None of them even drank their waters that they requested - assholes.

 --

 Holy shit.

You’re really feeling for Harry, now. There’s a new young couple sitting at 301 (certainly not on a first date, you’ll add), holding hands across the table and giggling loudly and they don’t break eye contact even when they place their wine order, and when your eyes flicker over to where Harry’s sitting he’s watching them with an expression that looks just a little like envy. The men at 302 lean over and share a kiss over their pasta and you wish it were socially acceptable to ask every single couple not to fucking look at each other until his date arrives because you can tell it’s killing him - and suddenly, you’re wishing you hadn’t manifested his date not showing up. You’d rather feel the slight tinge of jealousy at watching him woo a girl than feel your stomach turn with every minute that passes without someone taking a seat across from him.

You can practically see the hope leaving his body as a half hour goes by since he’d arrived and he’s still sitting alone, tapping his nails against the condensation that had formed against his glass of water, feet tapping the sidewalk beneath him. The olives sit untouched in their ramekin except for one lonely green out that sits, half eaten, in the empty one you’d given him and after you’ve finished grating parmesan cheese over 301’s calamari and bruschetta, you wrap the cheese back up in its napkin before making your way over to him, ducking beneath the umbrella and sending him a smile that he reciprocates, albeit smaller than it had been before.

“Do you want to put in an appetizer to be here when she arrives?” you ask, pulling your pad and pen out of your apron and watching as he glances down at the menu he clutches in his hands. You know what the answer’s going to be before you’ve even asked the question but it’s unbearable watching him sit doing nothing, and you’re sure he’s hungry. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to eat before a date though you’re not totally positive what kind of guy would - anyway, it’s easy realize he’s yearning for food by the way he’d been sucking on his straw just moments before when you’d been taking 301’s appetizer order, even though all that’s left in his glass are a few measly ice cubes.

“S’fine,” he insists. “I don’t want t’order somethin’ and then have her not like it - y’know?” And he trails his finger along the appetizer section of the menu as if to showcase the amount of options, chest rising and falling in a sigh. You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile as you shut your notepad and slide it and your pen into your apron, smoothing your palms over the front of it again.

“Yeah, I know.”

Then he pushes the olives away from him, ramekins sliding against the tabletop and you grin as you look down at them before glancing back up at him, raising your eyebrows with mock surprise. “I guess you didn’t like the olives, then.”

Harry shakes his head, bringing a hand up to wipe his hair out of his eyes and you almost want to recommend that he put his hair in a ponytail (it seems to get in the way of a lot of stuff for him) but, truthfully, you love seeing his hair down. It looks so soft and luscious and you’re sure it smells spectacular, though you’ll never truly know. “I hated them,” he confesses, and you miss the way his lips turn into a smile as you giggle, sticking the full ramekin into the empty one to make it easier to carry. “D’you seriously like ‘em? They’re horrid.”

You’re supposed to say yes, but you can’t lie to him - not when he’s already having a rough night. “I don’t like them, either,” you agree, scrunching your nose as you look down at the variously coloured olives in your hands. “But, according to my manager, I love everything at this restaurant.”

He laughs at that - a genuine one, too, tossing his head back so his hair falls off his shoulders and you can’t stop yourself from laughing along with him. He’s contagious in every sense of the word and you’ve never met anyone like that - you’re smiling with him and feeling your heart break for him all at the same time and you’re not sure you’ve ever experienced it before. “Well, s’good t’know,” Harry says when he’s stopped laughing, swirling his straw around his glass so the ice cubes clink together. “I’ll take your advice wit’ a grain f’salt, shouldn’t I.”

“I’ll be honest with you,” you insist. “You’re special.” Your tone is teasing and to anyone listening in it’s clearly a joke but you gnaw on your tongue after the words are out anyway - he just smiles down at the table, scratching the surface with his nails.

“M’glad.” And your eyes scan the rest of your tables on instinct - 306 is up and there’s a stack of plates at 303 that you need to bring inside, but if it were up to you, you’d spend the rest of your day ducked into Harry’s umbrella, listening to him speak. But - well - you’re not being paid to talk to a pretty boy, most unfortunately, and you step out from under his covering to check out your other tables when - “Wait!”

You turn back around and Harry’s leaning back, holding his hand over his eyes to look at you and you take a step back over to him, bending down ever so slightly so you can hear him over the shitty music your boss insists on playing too loud to your outdoor guests. “Could I have a coke, please?” he questions, and you nod. “Thanks.”

Your other tables can wait - you scurry back inside, heading to the service station because you’d rather die than make him wait an extra second longer for his coke. Lauren - the other waitress on duty tonight - stands unwrapping a cheesecake to prepare for one of her tables and she looks at you with an arched eyebrow. “Who were you talking to?”

You shrug and you hope it isn’t painfully clear how your heartbeat thumps against your chest like a damn drum. “Just the guy at 305.”

“Oh.” Lauren pauses where she’s mixing the tupperware container of homemade whip cream to place on the cheesecake as you fill your glass with ice. “What’s his deal?”

“I think he’s being stood up,” you tell her.

 --

 Your suspicion is confirmed the next time you drop by Harry’s table, when he’s chugged his entire Coke and the rest of his water and he simply sits there, scrolling on his phone, and it’s like you can see how his battery has drained.

“Hey,” you call, voice soft as though you’re talking to a child, but you need to assess how upset he is about the situation before speaking in any other manner. You’d made the mistake before, started chatting too cheerfully to a lady being stood up and she’d shouted at you, called you a wench and a bastard and all other sorts of names you couldn’t recall before storming out, leaving a $20 for her three glasses of wine.

It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

“Has she texted you?” you ask, motioning down towards his phone. It’s certainly not allowed to speak to customers in such a casual manner about things other than the menu and whether they’d like to split the check but nobody’s around to reprimand you for bending the rules a bit - why not? 

He shakes his head - it’s what you’d expected but your heart still aches for him and you wish you could reach out, perhaps give him a hug if he’d want it or listen to him rant about the situation. Anything to make him feel better. “S’okay,” he insists, and to his defense he can play the part well. Doesn’t seem entirely too torn up about it and he’s looking at you like you’re a friend rather than his waitress and it makes you feel comfortable. “But - f’you don’t mind - can I order an appetizer now?” You smile, already fishing for your notepad and your pen (a sparkly black one, just for the sake of being fun.) You’re glad he’s getting something and if his date happens to show up, she’d ought to eat whatever he chooses simply as an apology for being over a goddamn hour late. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite?”

The question takes you by surprise but you regain composure quickly, feeling your face and neck heat up because Harry’s staring at you as though you’re some sort of God - like you hold the answer to the meaning of life instead of the best thing on the menu and it makes you feel good. Appreciated. “I love the risotto balls,” you admit, shifting to stand next to him so you can trace your finger along the menu in his hands, pointing to the very first appetizer listed on the page. “And the shrimp and broccoli rabe is delicious.”

“I hope you’re not lying t’me.”

“I told you,” you begin, meeting his small smile with a wider one of your own and it achieves its desired effect - his spreads wider, and you wonder if he thinks that you’re as contagious as you consider him to be. “I’ll never lie to you.”

“And why’s that?”

He’s full of questions. “Because you’re a nice customer.” It’s sort of the truth, though you think you’d scare him away if you told him the full entire truth is that he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve laid eyes on in your life. “When some customers are assholes, I tell them to get the vongole - it’s horrible.”

He raises his eyebrows at that with another grin, resting his menu down on the table and gazing up at you with his full attention. “Well, I trust you. I’ll get the risotto balls, in tha’ case. An’ then - whenever she gets here, I’ll get something else.”

You murmur sounds good and you don’t have to write it down in your notepad to remember it. You’d nearly gotten carried away with the conversation, nearly forgotten that he’s being fucking stood up and probably doesn’t want you to flirt with him like an idiot because you’re sure acting like one. God, no other waitresses act like this with their customers and you really, truly never have before - yet it’s something about him. You can’t fucking help yourself.

You take his Coke to refill it - he doesn’t ask and you won’t charge him for it. He simply deserves it, and you think that’s reason enough to bring the glass back inside, fill it to the top with soda and deliver it back on top of his coaster the next time you go outside to make your rounds. Harry’s appreciative, naturally, and has no reason to question why you gave him another drink to begin with. For all he knows, your restaurant has free refills, and you’ll let him think that. There’s no reason to make him pay for another drink - he’s having a bad enough day already - even though, when you’d glanced down at the watch adorning his wrist as you’d given him his drink and seen that it’s Gucci. 

No amount of money can buy a first date, you suppose, and you hate yourself for thinking it. You’d give him a first date. A million, in fact. And it’ll never happen but you can certainly dream, and you hope it doesn’t show in your eyes as the men at 302 order a panna cotta and cheesecake for dessert - 301 is digging into their pizza, looking so hopelessly in love with each other, and you catch Harry looking at them again.

The risotto balls are ready for him when you’ve delivered the desserts to 302, and you grab the plate and a block of parmesan and head right out to him. His eyes are on you the moment you step out the door, gaze looking ravenous and he’s most certainly just excited for his appetizer but you still let his watchful eye make your stomach turn.

No parmesan cheese for him - well, that’s fine. You tuck the block under your arm and tell him to enjoy, and he tells you he most certainly will before digging in and it only confirms your suspicion that he was fucking starving. In fact, by the time you’ve finished chatting to 304 about how delicious their gamberetti pizza was, one of the balls on the plate is gone and he’s staring at the second one like a man dying of hunger, but he doesn’t touch it. Surely waiting for his date to arrive to feast on it while he can talk about how nervous he was that she wasn’t going to show up that he was even entertaining the flirtatious waitress.

Gentleman.

 --

 The next twenty minutes are a blur - 304 is up and two tables in Lauren’s section are, too, and you don’t have much else to do so you help Brianna clear and wipe and set them all. By the time you’ve finished and returned the hostess’s grateful smile 302 wants more drinks and a chocolate mousse to split, and you pick up their empty panna cotta and cheesecake dishes and rush them back inside. 301 decides they want their check and they look like they’ve gotten into some sort or argument and you’re almost glad - though you’re sure they’ll be too angry to leave a good tip, you’ll take it if it means it may make Harry feel a bit better about being alone.

It’s 8:15 PM the next time you risk a glance at your phone. Only forty five minutes until you close and there haven’t been any new table sat for the better half of twenty minutes and you pray it stays that way - or, at the very least, they go to Lauren’s section instead of yours. Brianna is clearing 301 (they got up and left in a hurry and, as you’d expected, your tip is a few measly dollars) and your other tables have no need for your assistance yet so you make a beeline to Harry’s table the second you get outside and he’s watching you, sad smile toying at the corner of his lips.

“How were the risotto balls?” you inquire, drumming your fingers against his table. It’s a silly question because anyone with eyes can see how he’d gobbled half of the appetizer up, the other still untouched in their bowl of sauce, ricotta lazily tossed on top of it. You’re sure it’s cold now but you don’t quite mind them when they’re chilly - may even taste better than having them sizzling hot. “Looks like you liked them.”

He nods, pushing the plate away from him as though he can’t stand to be near it. “It’s really good,” Harry tells you and pats himself firmly on the stomach twice to prove it. It’s a silly motion that brings a smile to your lips anyway and you really, truly can’t help it. “M’gonna save the other one f’when she gets here.”

Hope is a good thing to have, you decide, and he’s clearly still holding onto it. You’d never been stood up before but you’re sure you’d have given up on the idea of a first date long before he had and you applaud him internally for that - he’s patient and kind and understanding, you decide. Much more tolerant than anyone else you know would be in this sort of situation and it only adds to the growing desire you have for him, but you push it down - for the sake of professionalism. “Well, that’s nice,” you tell him and he smiles, the expression tight and complimentary. “Can I get you anything else?”

“M’good,” Harry says, “but - can y’show me where the bathroom is inside?” He motions with one swirling finger to the empty glasses in front of him and his grin looks rather embarrassed when he looks back up to you. “Think I drank m’drinks a bit too fast.”

You laugh out loud at that and if he notices that your giggling goes on for just a beat longer than  appropriate, he doesn’t acknowledge it and wow, don’t you feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush. Laughing at his joke-that-wasn’t-a-joke and feeling your face burn up when you look at him and having your stomach turn when he stands up to follow you into the restaurant and holy hell, he’s tall. You feel embarrassed walking in with him behind you because you’re not sure what he’s looking at, and what if you have a stain on your jeans? Or the back of your shirt? He’s dressed so nice and your face is fucking flaming and you avoid eye contact with Lauren as you point him towards the restroom.

“Thanks, love,” he says, voice thick and heavy as he maneuvers through the indoor tables to get to the restroom and you send him off with a small wave - just a jerk of your hand - and the second he’s out of sight you wipe your palms on your apron again.

Lauren’s making a cappuccino and so you flock over to her, naturally. You can tell she just redid her ponytail because it sits higher on her head and you think you should do that too, so you pull your black scrunchie out of your hair and work on assembling it into a better ponytail.

“That’s the guy from 305, isn’t it?” she questions.

“The guy I took to the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh - yeah.” You swallow, bending down to glance into the metal of the espresso machine to see your blurred reflection, making sure your ponytail is as smooth as possible before tying it up. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s nice.”

She hums softly, grabbing a small spoon and stirring the coffee once then twice before resting it inside the cup, already reaching for another cup to begin another. “Are you sure he’s being stood up?”

You scrunch up your nose, leaning back against the counter and tilting your head in slight confusion. “I’m pretty positive - he’s been here for, like, an hour and 15 minutes waiting for a girl and he’s still hopeful that she’s going to come.” And then you sigh, the noise overly dramatic and your coworker rolls her eyes. “Why?”

“He was checking you out, babe.”

You raise your eyebrows, head turning to the side so fast you swear you nearly get whiplash as you stare at Lauren. She simply stands, making her cappuccino as if she hadn’t just blew you away with her observation and you’re sure it meant nothing but it still has your heart thumping violently against your chest and you exhale. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Girl, I was watching - he was. His eyes never left your ass. He almost ran into the door, too.”

“You’re lying.” “Why would I lie? He’s cute, isn’t he? Aren’t you happy?”

“Laur, he’s being stood up. I know he is. He’s not focusing on my ass - he’s probably crying in the bathroom right now.”

She laughs at that, hooking her finger in the handles of the two cappuccinos, steam billowing from both of them like a fire. “Well, maybe he is being stood up, but - I swear to god - he’s into you.” And then she’s walking back down the aisle between tables to reach the front of the restaurant, headed out the door without another glance as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you and you stare after her, mouth agape and palms sweating and you wipe them on your apron once more.

 --

 Harry returns to his seat and, for a while, you don’t check on him.

He seems fine, anyway. Decently enough. Sure, his drinks are still empty  in front of him and he leaves that one risotto ball alone and, every so often, he glances up and down the sidewalk before bringing his gaze back down to his phone but it doesn’t quite look like he needs anything.

Anyway, it’s 8:30. Even if she shows up they wouldn’t be able to stay very long and, no matter what, he deserves a fulfilling first date. Maybe she did get caught at work and, when he leaves, they’ll laugh about it. Reschedule it for a different day where he picks her up from her house, and then who knows? Maybe they’ll go ice skating or see a movie. And this entire situation will be something they’ll laugh out and forget and they’ll probably get fucking married, with your luck.

You’d be happy for him, of course. And even though you’ll likely never speak to him again after he leaves for the night, you do want the best for him, though you think the best for him would be you and not some girl who stood him up with no text.

303 is gone after spending entirely too long sitting and chatting and you wave them off with a goodbye and a bright smile, grabbing their check just as Brianna runs out to begin clearing it off. Full glasses of water are dumped into the plants and you help her bring them inside before going to deposit the check - it’s a nice tip and you’re thankful. They’d been a kind enough table but sometimes those are the type to screw you over with the tip and you’re beyond glad they hadn’t - you’ve had a strange enough night without the added weight of no tip.

You head back outside with 302’s check and drop it at their table, returning their grateful smile with one of your own. There’s nowhere else to go or visit besides 305 and so you head over to him, ducking underneath his umbrella for what seems like the thousandth time that day and it’s then that you can see his face, ever so slightly crestfallen as he stares at his phone and your heart just about drops into your ass, and without a second thought you pull out the empty seat across from him and sit.

“What’s wrong?” you ask and you’re fairly certain you already know, but there’s no shame in inquiring further - his phone is clutched in his hand and he looks up at you before clearing his throat and that’s enough confirmation for you.

“She’s out wit’ her friends - they’re at a bar.” And, as if to prove it to you, he slides his phone across the table to you and you crane your neck to glance down at the screen and it’s an Instagram story - a boomerang of four girls clinking their drinks together, and you scrunch your nose. “She’s the one on the right.”

The one on the right is decently pretty - blonde hair straightened and falling down her back, drink spilling over the edges of her glass when she clicks it too enthusiastically with her friends. Her dress is tight and sparkly and nearly overpowers the entire story and you can already make your mind up about how you feel about her and, needless to say, it isn’t good.

“Oh.” You watch the boomerang for another couple of seconds before pushing his phone back over to him and he gives you a tight lipped grin. “I’m sorry, Harry. That really sucks.”

“S’alright.” He shrugs and you can tell it isn’t alright but you don’t say anything else until he adds, “I wasn’t tha’ into her, anyway. M’friend wanted to set us up. I guess she wasn’t really into it but - I wasn’t either. S’all fair.”

Your heart hurts for him - she wasn’t into it but you know he was and before you can think to stop yourself you reach over, resting your hand over his and holy shit. You shouldn’t do that. He can lie and say he doesn’t mind but you know he does and you’re still his fucking waitress - you shouldn’t touch him like you’ve known him any longer than two hours. Just as you go to pull away with a frenzied apology he’s turning his hand around so your palms are pressed together and then he squeezes your hand with a soft sigh and you’re nearly paralyzed at the motion.

It can’t be more than a few seconds that you two sit like that, his hand tight around yours and you can hardly breathe, heart thumping in your chest before he says, “What time d’you close?”

“Uh -” you clear your throat just as he releases your hand and you withdraw it immediately - your hands are sweating and you press them on the table. “We close at 9, but - I only have one more table, and they’re about to leave … so …”

“What else d’you have t’do?”

“All my closing stuff,” you begin, sticking up your fingers as you list each one. “I need to roll silverware, get ice, put the glasses away, take the trash from the bathroom. And then I’ll probably get something to eat.”

Harry nods, gazing almost wistfully into the night as though he’s some sort of philosopher and you lean in, waiting to hear whatever he has to say next - “Could y’eat with me when y’get your food? If y’don’t mind.” And it takes you a moment to react as he adds, “S’just - you’re nice t’talk to, an’ all tha’. But y’don’t have to.”

You swallow thickly, already feeling your stomach flipping and your knee jiggling and you nod - first a quick jerk of your head, up and down, and then faster. 302 is arranging their stuff to leave, grabbing their boxes and shoving their credit cards into their pockets and you wish you could tell them to get the hell out because you can’t start closing until they leave and now you really have a motivation to leave. “Yeah. That - that sounds good.”

It sounds more than good, in fact, and you don’t even care if you’re some sort of rebound to him in this moment - you’ll take it. You’ll eat your dinner with him and then whatever comes after - you don’t care. You just want tonight, or, at the very least, right now, and anything after that is simply a bonus and you’ll deal with it later because he wants to eat with you. He wants to hang out with you. He likes you, and maybe even in that way, too.

You’re standing up uncomfortably fast, nearly tripping over the seat you’d inhabited as you rub your palms together. “Well - um. My other table is getting ready to leave, so I’m gonna - gonna start doing my stuff.”

“Sounds good,” and he’s so casual with it that it sends heat blazing up your cheeks, and you turn to head back inside with a newly found skip in your step that’s too full of joy to be embarrassing.

Brianna’s already begun the silverware when you get inside - with only 2 tables left, there’s no need for her to stay, but you tell her that you’ll roll if she does the other closing duties and she accepts because she’s horrific at rolling silverware. They’re always loose and lumpy and too big or too small and none of you want to tell her because it’s easier to just make pretend like it’s your favorite closing duty to do - well, whatever. She’s gone downstairs to get a bucket of ice before she can ponder on your insistence and you settle in your seat, grabbing a knife and two forks and resting them in the middle of your linen to begin to roll.

You have the motion down nearly to an instinct and it gives you time to glance outside. Through the windows you can see just the side profile of Harry’s face, only slightly illuminated by his phone screen as his lips wrap around his straw, surely sucking on the dissolved ice cubes in one of his glasses and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest - you nearly drop a fork when you go to begin a new roll.

 --

 Your pasta is ready entirely too soon.

You’re finished rolling silverware and the ice is filled and the bathrooms are stocked and clean but you hadn’t emotionally prepared yourself enough to eat with him. But your fettuccine sits, steaming on the counter ready for you to pick up and you stab the ticket once you’ve confirmed it’s yours, grabbing the burning hot plate with your one hand and grabbing a spoon with the other.

You can still see Harry’s side profile when you peer out the window and he’s glancing around, eyes darting from the sidewalk to the door as though he’s waiting for you and you know you can’t keep him alone for another second, so you inhale a deep sigh and walk out the door, pasta in hand.

He just about perks up when he sees you, back straightening and dropping his phone onto the table. You swear he’s about to get up and pull the chair out for you, too, but you beat him to it - duck underneath the umbrella and rest your plate on the table, slipping into your chair with ease and a soft cough into your fist.

(You’re not sick - not in the slightest. It just alleviates your stress, you suppose. Eliminates some awkward silence.)

“Hey,” Harry says, elbows resting on the table so he can look at you in full and you can already feel your body flaming as you pick up your spoon, sifting it through the thick pasta on your plate. Alfredo - God, it’s your favorite. You’ve been trying to branch out and try more things on the menu but it always takes you back to your damn fettuccine alfredo. “I hope this isn’t weird.”

“It’s not weird,” you insist, collecting a spoonful of pasta and bringing it to your mouth. The smell is intoxicating and you pause when the spoon is just an inch from your mouth. “I’m sure you had a rough night.”

He shrugs, leaning back in his seat as you take a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as though you’re pondering something important. “It wasn’t too rough,” he tells you, and you raise your eyebrows. “It would’ve been bad - but you helped.”

“Really?”

“Sure y’did.” You take another spoonful of fettuccine as he continues. “It sucks t’be stood up, but you were nice.”

“I could tell you were upset.”

“An’ you couldn’t tell you were makin’ it better?”

You think for a moment - think back on the countless interactions you’d had with the near-stranger sitting across from you, pulling the plate with one lone risotto ball over to him - and then shake your head. “I just thought you were being sweet.”

He laughs, reaching for his abandoned fork resting on the side of the plate and cutting in to the second risotto ball - you can tell how much he’d been longing to eat it simply from the expression on his face when he takes the first bite - with a shrug. “Sure I was,” and you laugh at that, ripping the piece of bread on the side of your plate and half and dipping it in the sauce, “but you must’ve realized I like you - didn’t you?”

“Well, I did think it was curious that you held my hand.”

“Y’did it first.”

“Well, the technicalities don’t matter.”

It brings a grin to your face to hear Harry laugh at you, curls flopping in his face, crossing his arms over his chest as he chews on a particularly large bite of his risotto ball. Your pasta is already nearly gone (you’d vastly underestimated how hungry you were) and you scrape the sides of the plate with your bread, collecting all of the excess sauce on the dough. “Was feeling a bit guilty,” you confess, drumming your fingertips on the tabletop, and he tilts his head at you, “‘cause I was starting to feel a bit thankful you got stood up.”

For a moment you wonder if you’d said the wrong thing - if you’ve ruined this entire thing before it’s even started, because it’s an uncomfortably real risk -, but then he’s reaching out to rest his hand overtop of yours and your body overflows with relief. “I agree,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand, and you swallow. “Y’had me prayin’ she wasn’t going to show up.”

You smile, looking down at the table and your empty plate and his half eaten risotto ball that he’s already taking another bite of and it all seems so surreal - like you’re going to wake up in your bed an hour before your shift starts, cursing yourself out for creating such an immersive reality - but nothing about his touch on yours is fake. It’s all so spectacular - so real - and you exhale. “We’re closing in 5 minutes,” you tell him, and his eyebrows scrunch together like he’s seen something he regrets. “Reckon we should take this someplace else?” “Someplace else?”

Your stomach flips and you wonder for what feels like the millionth time this evening if you’d made a mistake - read him wrong - took things too far. It’s an unfortunate habit you have and you certainly wouldn’t be shocked if you’ve put your foot in it this early into the relationship - you’ll regret it, but you regret a lot of things. In a couple of weeks, you’ll forget about it, won’t you? You’ve done it before. But you simply shrug, motioning with your free hand to the empty tables among you both. “I live - um - a couple blocks up the road. If you want to come over. And - it’s fine if you don’t - just putting it out there.”

Harry stares at you, expression nearly blank, for a beat too long and you shift in your seat - but then there’s a smile stretching across his face, and he pushes his half-eaten risotto ball in towards the center of the table. “That sounds perfect,” he tells you, and your heart thumps in your chest once more.

 --

 For the record, you hadn’t anticipated having anyone over to your apartment tonight, and it shows.

There’s dirty dishes from the previous two days piled in the sink, shoes strewn all over the entryway and when you peer your head into the sitting room, your pajamas are strewn over the couch next the wine stain you’d spent hours trying to scrub out. Your face burns as you turn the lights on and Harry steps inside, head turning left and right as he examines your living space and you wish you’d cleaned up after yourself before you left for work - you’ve been meaning to do the dishes - why hadn’t you done them?

“It’s - um - not much,” you begin, shutting and locking the door firmly behind you and motioning with your arms to the entirety of your apartment. “And it’s kind of dirty. I just didn’t expect anyone to come here, or I would’ve fixed it up a bit.”

He smiles, peering at the photos adorning your walls. “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he insists, bringing his finger up to trail along the high school graduation photo you’d taken with all of your friends until he spots you, smack in the middle, holding up your diploma with a wide grin - you don’t speak to half of the people in that photo anymore, but you love it. Love reminiscing on a time before college and work and rent, where you could just relax with your friends. “Y’look awfully pretty in this photo.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, clasping your hands behind your back as you watch Harry examine each photo. None of them are interesting enough to warrant his level of attention and you’re sure he’s simply trying to be polite but you still appreciate it - it’s nice to imagine that he has that much interest in a photo your mother had taken of you and your dog on a hike. “Do you want me to - to pour some wine or something?”

“That’s alright,” he says, turning around to face you and you glance up at him with a soft smile as he rests his hand on your shoulder, fingertips trailing up and down your arm and sending goosebumps popping up over your skin. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt like this about a boy and it’s making you fucking crazy, torn between wanting to wrap your arms around him or have him bend you over the counter - you can’t quite decide. 

“Alright.” You roll on the balls of your feet as Harry steps into your kitchen, leaning against the counter with an air of casual arrogance and adoration as he stares down at you. You pad into the kitchen behind him and press your palms to the countertop, lifting yourself up to sit beside him, and you hum softly. “Well - we could talk, then.”

“Y’wanna talk?”

“I wanna do whatever you wanna do,” you confess, and it’s the truth.

He hums at that, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth and you watch him, breath caught in your throat, as he pushes himself from the counter, doing nearly a full spin before landing directly in front of you and your knees part to allow him in between them like an instinct - your face heats as he pushes himself closer to you, thighs closing around his waist. “Y’seem nervous,” he says, palms pressing to the counter on either side of your body and you inhale a shaky breath, shaking your head.

“I’m not nervous,” you tell him, even if it’s a little white lie. “I just haven’t done this in a while -” and that isn’t a lie in the slightest.

“Ah,” and then Harry nods like some sort of therapist, hands already dropping to your waist, fingertips scratching at zipper of your jeans as if testing the waters. “An’ you’re sure y’want this?”

“I’m positive - please, Harry, I really want this. Wanted this from - from the second I saw you.”

It’s all the approval he needs, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans with ease and you loop your arms around his neck, using him as leverage to lift your hips up and he pulls your jeans off and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up by your knees. The next step is your panties, so damp you can tell he feels it through the fabric when he pressed his fingers against you and your hips jerk into his hands, dropping your head into his shoulder as he exhales.

“I’ll go slow,” he tells you, voice low and raspy and you’re not sure if he’s trying to make it sound like that or if it just naturally happens - well, you can’t decide which one is hotter, truthfully. “Jus’ wanna make y’feel good, love.”

“Mhm,” you nod, gnawing on your bottom lip as Harry hooks two fingers in the crotch part of your panties, pulling them to the side and the cold air of your apartment hits your cunt in a way that has your breathing picking up and he pauses, fingers so dangerously close to where you need them. You know he’s going to ask if you’re okay - if you want him to stop - and you don’t, not by a fucking long shot, and you push your hips into his hand as way of answering his unasked question.

Harry takes the hint, of course. He isn’t stupid.

Two fingers circle your clit, spreading your moisture along the sensitive nub like he’s been wanting to do it all fucking night - there’s some sort of desperation to his movements that has your legs tightening around him, head burying further into his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around one of your thighs, hoisting it further up his waist. His breathing is hot against your head as his digits slide up and down your folds and you’re not sure if he’s attempting to tease you or not but, no matter, it’s working. You’re ready to get on your knees and beg for him if you need to, but just as the thought crosses your mind, his fingers dip down to slide in between your folds.

A soft moan emits from your throat as his hand smooths up and down your thigh, fingers dipping just barely into your cunt before pulling out - and he does it a few times, giving you a bit of what you want and then tearing it away and you whine, thrusting your hips into his hands and Harry presses a kiss to the side of your head before sliding his fingers inside of you. Two to start, just to ease you in, pushing them in slow and steady until you can feel his cool rings pressed against your pussy and you throw your head back with a moan.

He pauses, lip still between his teeth as he stares at you, your chest heaving beneath him and body fucking quivering in his gasp. “Tell me how it feels,” he breathes, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, and you swallow your desperate whine for him to move.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, smoothing your hands up and down his neck as he stares at you as though daring you to break his gaze. “Please, Har -”

“Please what?”

“Fuck me - with your fingers, Har, please - make me feel so good -” and just to top off your request you lean in, crashing your lips so violently against his that your teeth clash and tongues collide, and you can taste everything you’d served him that evening and holy hell it tastes delicious. Perhaps it’s just him, dropping your thigh against the table so he can grab onto the back of your neck and keep your face attached to his, lips parted and wild and dominant as he pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in with a newfound vigor -

The levee breaks, then, with your lips mashed together, and you’re more than thankful for it.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 310: A Tale of Two Kacchans

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Deku was all, “hey, you know what sounds like a good decision? Abandoning my studies at the safest place in the country so that the bad guy who wants to find me and kill me has literally nothing standing in his way of doing that.” All Might was all, “I fucking knew you were going to say some bullshit like that so whatever, but I’M COMING WITH YOU and I’m also going to invite the Hawksquad to come with us, mostly so that I can steal Jeanist’s car.” Jeanist was all, “okay fine you can borrow my car, All Might, but only if you wear jeans.” All Might was all, “okay sure” and he wore jeans and also sunglasses and a leather jacket and it was pretty rad. Anyway so now they’re out there fighting crime and hunting down the LoV and stuff, and absolutely none of it is going to end well, I’m just letting you know now. But I guess we’ll let them enjoy it while it lasts.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “happy belated Kacchan’s Birthday makeste, here’s the flashback you really wanted at long last,” and proceeds to pull the old vestige flashback out of the kitchen drawer and upend its contents all over my Friday afternoon without the slightest bit of warning. OFA III is all “WHAT’S UP I’M JUST SOME GUY, HELLO,” and okay?? Hello yourself. OFA II, on the other hand, is all, “okay yeah I have different hair and stuff, but I’m like 98% sure I’m either Bakugou or his goddamn twin, I mean look at me.” Which, yeah. I looked, and he really is though you guys. Anyway though, so he and OFA II basically just showed up in the First (who goes by Yoichi now)’s prison cell one day all “HEY THERE, WE’RE HERE TO SAVE YOU, APPARENTLY, ALTHOUGH WE SEEM REAL CONFUSED ABOUT IT TBH BUT HEY.” And so they saved him, and Yoichi was all “hey nice to meet you do you want to join my super-exclusive Saving The World Club”, and so they did, and then the chapter ended lol. I would have said yes too.

oh my sweet lord?? I didn’t realize we were getting a color page this week, but LOOK AT THIS

this could have been a fucking volume cover. I’m almost mad that it wasn’t, lol but I mean fkldjslklk just look at it??! Horikoshi out here spoiling us and making sure we’re well fed since next week the manga is on break for Golden Week. well this will certainly help to tide me over. hot damn look at those colors

so now it’s raining on some dumb building in the middle of somewhere

is this where the Hawksquad has set up camp for the night? or are we actually cutting back to the League? that’d be unexpected (but not unwelcome)

ffff nevermind dammit it’s just more random citizens under attack

feels like this is the third or fourth scene we’ve had of civilians being Under Attack since this arc started. I mean no offense, but I think we get it by this point. it’s the end times, etc. etc. we’re well aware that things have gone to shit

so apparently these two guys are facing off against a girl with a mutant quirk. and she’s telling them that she’s not a monster and she was just scared, oh shit. I believe her btw, you can see it in her face

but these assholes don’t believe her at all and they’re pointing what looks to be some type of support item gun at her

you know what’s interesting, is that this kind of random quirk discrimination is the exact kind of thing PLF and the like were swearing up and down they’d put a stop to with their glorious revolution. it’s almost like those guys were completely full of shit. huh

so yeah, fortunately for this woman someone is stepping in and intervening before she can be blasted to bits by this trigger-happy asshole for absolutely no fucking reason

looks like a hero actually stepped in and saved her?? but no that can’t be, heroes are the ones that ruin everything and make everything worse, or so I understand. lol where did all of this sarcasm come from out of nowhere dlkdsjlk I’m sorry guys I just suddenly got swept up in the hypocrisy of certain people’s philosophies out of the blue idek

anyway so it is of course Deku saving her, and now he’s trying to talk thess jerks down all diplomatically instead of just kicking their asses, which is certainly a choice

MOTHERFUCKER I’M

fucking impossible to miss the real world parallels here. shit. this woman nearly died for her crime of Walking While Having A Mutant Quirk huh. and meanwhile Deku is just letting this guy scurry away and even letting him keep that fucking bazooka of his, like, ????

fucking hell she’s crying!!

lmao this chapter is actively trying to make me mad now huh. that’s some genuine righteous anger I’m feeling on behalf of this fictional ferret lady whom I only met two minutes ago. girl you are not the one who needs to explain herself here!! you didn’t do anything wrong holy fuck. everything about this situation sucks so much

fkKJKLMMMHFGH

“I’m sorry I made you upset, please enjoy this panel of tiny!floating!Deku hefting this lady’s massive beach umbrella up for her like the fucking gentleman he is” well okay then thank you sir

and JUST LIKE THAT the tension is broken and I’m entirely incapable of taking the rest of this conversation seriously because Deku’s trying to be all calming and authoritative, but now the illusion has been broken because I know he only comes up to like her knees

“well thanks again for saving me young man. I’ll leave you to it, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do like protecting your Lucky Charms cereal from all those greedy children”

oh hey All Might

you wouldn’t have just let that guy with the bazooka just walk away to commit more attempted murders would you?? man

OH MY GOD DEKU IS IMMEDIATELY DITCHING HIM AGAIN

I ~CANNOT STAY HERE~ oh, well, sorry to keep you detained I know you’re busy

dfslkjlk oh my god

fucking told you Deku didn’t pack any food lol. it’s literally all notebooks in that bag you guys. he couldn’t just leave them all in his dorm room when he left, because what if someone tried to read them and came across one of the pages where he absentmindedly doodled Kacchan’s name surrounded by little tiny hearts oh gosh

AWWWWW

I needed this Horikoshi. thank you for this wholesome soul-cleansing interaction after all of that bullshit earlier

so now Deku’s climbing up this tall building to eat his lunchbox more dramatically. Tokoyami would be proud

and Banjou is saying that society right now is just like in The Good Old Days (read: bad old days) when quirk society was even more of a mess than it is now

which is exactly how AFO likes it, no doubt

so now Deku’s having a whole conversation with Banjou seemingly out loud lol, weird. and he’s basically saying that they don’t have any clues as to where TomurAFO and the League are hiding right now, and none of the Tartarus escapees they’ve found knew anything either

mmmmmfmhm, marge simpson noises

but you think you can?? you, alone, by yourself?? you think you stand a chance?? I just need you to think this all through a bit more kid

Deku it is NOT JUST YOUR RESPONSIBILITY ALONE, PLEASE REALIZE THIS ALREADY. YOU MAY BE THE CHOSEN ONE, BUT EVEN THE CHOSEN ONE NEEDS HIS FRIENDS BY HIS SIDE GODDAMMIT

and of course my pleading is all in vain, because he’s a fictional character who can’t fucking hear me, and also because I’m pretty sure there’s only one character who is going to actually be able to get him to hear reason here. I’ve been saying it, and I’ll keep saying it lol. so until then I guess I’ll just have to be patient

anyway so it appears we’re segueing into another flashback??? HORIKOSHI PLEASE GIVE ME SOME BAKUCRUMBS BEFORE THE TWO WEEK BREAK, I BEG YOU

dlKSDJLFKWJELKGHSLGKLEKJLFKHLGK

YES, THANK YOU, I KNOW WHERE THIS FUCKING IS LOL, IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE REST OF THIS SCENE OR ANYTHING LMAO. BUT ANYWAYS DON’T MIND ME, YOU WERE SAYING??

oh my god oh my god I’m not readyyyyy, but also FUCK YEAH I AM SO FUCKING READY LOL LET’S DO THIS

YOU GUYS

I’M ABOUT TO STEP IN THAT ROOM AND YEET ONE OF THOSE FUCKING CHAIRS AT YOU ALL

NOOOOO

I’M ABOUT TO GRAB BANJOU’S GOGGLES AND STRETCH THEM OUT AND SNAP THEM BACK SO THEY SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF HIS FOREHEAD!!! IT’S WHAT HE DESERVES!!! I’M ABOUT TO MOVE TO JAPAN AND GET A JOB WITH DOORDASH AND FIND OUT WHAT HORIKOSHI LIKES TO ORDER FOR LUNCH SO I CAN BE THE ONE TO DELIVER IT SO THAT WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR I CAN FINALLY ASK HIM “HEY WHAT THE FUCK” IN PERSON

AHHH NO EVERYBODY SHHHHH STOP TALKING!!!!

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THAT PERSON SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS IN THE BACKGROUND TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, OH WAIT, THAT’S ME

(」゜ロ゜)」 щ(゜ロ゜щ)

LOL THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! LOOK AT YOU!!! YOU’RE NOT KIRISHIMA OR SHINSOU OR IIDA IN A WIG OR ANYBODY LOL. YOU’RE JUST A DUDE. BROOOOO ABOUT FUCKING TIME, WHAT’S GOOD

I CAN’T SCROLL DOWN AHHHH BUT I HAVE TO BUT IT’S TOO INTENSE AHHHHHHH

I CAN SEE THE TOP OF HIS SPIKY HEAD, IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME AHHHHHHHH OKAY I’M GONNA DO IT HERE GOES

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IT’S HIM. IT FUCKING REALLY FUCKIGN IS HIM OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. WHY AM I SO SHOCKED LMAO I’M THE ONE WHO’S BEEN SAYING THIS THE WHOLE DAMN TIME LMAO. OH GOD. O H MY FUCKING GOD

well okay then sir. so are you an ~ancestor~ or a Kacchan from another timeline or so what’s your deal then

YOICHI WHO IS YOICHI

YOICHI ALWAYS KNOWS WHAT’S UP. LMAO WHO IS YOICHI

(ETA: I’m going to punch myself in the face lmao. he’s Yoichi. he, the First. that’s his name. name reveal at long last what what!!)

MORE IMPORTANTLY SHOULD I BE IMAGINING NOBU’S VOICE RIGHT NOW BECAUSE LMAO I AM ANYWAY BUT YEAH

(ETA: I actually think he’s going to end up being voiced by Nobuhiko whether he ends up being Kacchan or not, just because it fits right in with the general “identical in almost every way” aesthetic he’s got going on.)

TUMBLR HOW WE LIKING OUR ANGSTY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN?? EVERYONE HATED YOU SO MUCH BEFORE THEY EVEN MET YOU, BUT THEY FORGOT TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU MIGHT BE HOT LMAO WHAT A TWIST

“some bright-eyed brat” oh come on. IT’S GOTTA BE HIM LOL

oh my god you all are probably TIRED AS FUCK of all my screaming but I’M SORRY IMMA HAVE TO DO IT ONE LAST TIME BECAUSE...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

that face. that expression!! THE FACT THAT HE’S OUT HERE OPENING DOORS WITH HIS FEET, LIKE HOLY SHIT!! JUST ADMIT THE JIG IS UP ALREADY

and so they really are the ones who busted First out of his jail cell huh

so how did they know you were in the room?? why did they come and break you out?? and how, pray tell, did they know to get you to transfer OFA to them?? hmmmMMMMMMMM

oh MY GOD

you guys. oh my god. it’s too much. every last bit of it lines up exactly with the Bakuverse theory sdkjfj I’m short-circuiting. it’s really fucking happening oh my lord

HELLO SEXY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN WITH HIS SEXY FUCKING SCAR, FUCK YEAH WE REALLY ARE EATING GOOD THIS CHAPTER

HELL YEAH WE’RE GOING. WE’RE GOING FULL SPEED YOU GUYS. LMAO I’M SO FUCKING HYPED RIGHT NOW I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF WEFKJLDKFFFF

SO, EVERYONE, LET’S RECAP. -- ACTUALLY NO, I STARTED TO WRITE UP A LIST, BUT I IMMEDIATELY REALIZED IT REALLY JUST NEEDS TO GO IN ITS OWN THREAD. SO I MADE IT AND POSTED IT, AND NOW I’M FINISHING UP THIS HOT MESS OF A RECAP POST. SO NOW WE’RE BACK TO THIS ONE FINAL PANEL OF DEKU EATING HIS KATSU ALL SERIOUS

YES SIR. YES SIR, WE GOING, FULL SPEED AHEAD, WHATEVER, IDK WTF IS HAPPENING BUT YES!!

lol, anyways so as I said in my other post, mysterious sexy guys with tragic pasts are what bring us together as a fandom, so whatever your thoughts are on the rest of it, let’s just rejoice in that. it’s what we deserve