#why am i so salty today? i genuinely don’t know

[rickktish]

Some unsolicited unpopular marvel opinions:

Loki was 100% responsible for destroying every bit of trust Thor ever had in him and if the fandom could get over making Loki their uwu baby they'd be able to recognize that Thor deserved better. Loki gets no rights for having daddy issues, actually; by the time you’re an adult, you are responsible for your own shitty behavior.

Tony was actually, genuinely wrong to support the Accords and the weight of his teammates' "betrayal" should not in fact be more highly valued than the actually immoral choice he was supporting

honestly maybe the entire fandom just has a betrayal kink? like i know we all grew up when those horrendous "all their friends betrayed them and now they've gone and found new friends in a crossover universe who are better in every way" fics were so popular on fanfiction.net but like. those weren't good fics. and their revenge plots weren't satisfying. and also they were always out of character. and just because you saw a chance to fulfill all your betrayal drama fantasies because of how many people sided with Cap doesn't make Tony's choice the right one, it just means you weren't paying attention to the political intrigue because you cared more about "oh no! Tony's parents were killed by a guy who's inevitably going to get a "redemption" arc (insofar as you need redemption after being brainwashed???) and Awful Steve cares more about his best friend from the War than Tony's Feelings! How Dare Awful Steve do that?"

Hawkeye's life is (on the comics side of things, which I know many of us draw on when we need to flesh things out) canonically sadder than Tony Stark's and none of y'all were ready to deal with that, so you had to make your uwu baby's life harder to make him more important. Which is fine, I do it when I'm in the mood to write sadfic too, but like. Clint was right there. He already existed. You didn't need to give his backstory to Tony so many times.

Also Thor's life (in mcu canon, right there, in front of your face) is canonically sadder than Tony Stark's and y'all completely ignore him so. You're missing out focusing on the ambiguous daddy issues instead of the victim of both parental and sibling abuse who watched his entire culture be destroyed. Just saying.

on the one hand, sibling fics are fun. on the other hand, anyone tagging "loki is a good sibling" needs to acknowledge that they're writing a wholeass au which does not exist after the first Thor movie. Loki is explicitly and intentionally written as a bad sibling in every movie. To be fair, Thor is explicitly and intentionally written as an infuriating sibling, but that doesn't change the fact that Loki is worse.

Loki got a redemption arc because he was popular, not because he had good or meaningful points or because he was "always supposed to be redeemed." I just need you to know that.

It's nice that Tony got to have a Moment at the end of End Game, but he didn't deserve it. Both in the "he wasn't good enough to earn that kind of moment" and "he didn't acknowledge anything he had done that was bad enough to deserve that kind of end" kind of way. Both are simultaneously true. There are generally three types of arcs that end in a heroic sacrifice, and they are the Mentor, the Paragon, and the Redeemed. Tony was an insufficient mentor to Spider-man to achieve Heroic Sacrifice levels, Captain America was the Paragon, and Loki would have been the Redeemed except that Thanos killed him in the last movie. Tony Stark was, unfortunately, a Mid arc at best, and did not earn the kind of payoff necessary to have gotten the heroic sacrifice.

[keefwho]

November 22 - 2022

8:29 AM

I’m eager to find more things to DO that are unique and engaging. Like fanfic reading streams or maybe some kind of event hosting group. Anything that isn’t me doing the same things alone in my room. There isn’t much to do in real life around where I am so I’m stuck with online connections but it should be enough to me. Maybe I could find things kind of naturally if I just put myself out there more like I used to. I used to advertise everything I did somewhere so I could fit into the right spaces but for awhile I’ve been keeping to myself. A good example would be my avatar work. Basically no one knows I even do it aside from friends and some shygal enthusiasts. 

I guess I already have some things to do, like work on my VR world or learn how to play guitar. If I do the VR world right, it should be a very social experience. Maybe I could get more people then I think to want a statue in the world. Maybe it could actually become a place people wanna hang out or put their art. It would be neat to maintain a world like that. 

The guitar thing would probably be a solo activity but very interesting to learn. I’d like to be able to play the songs I like just for fun. 

10:20 AM

Tummy is still fucky and it’s actually a little weird but no cause for alarm yet. My main concern is getting work done because I’d much rather let my body relax and heal. I am still a day ahead so I could do it but then I wouldn’t be a day ahead anymore. I figure I’ll try my best to get things done. It shouldn’t be too bad today. And hopefully I’ll feel better in a bit anyways. 

Unlike in the past, I try to deal with it and get cozy until it’s over instead of worrying about it getting worse and desperately trying to feel better. I accept I kinda feel like shit right now because I know it’ll go away and I’ll feel better eventually. Its a good excuse to shake myself of unneeded obligations and really cozy up. 

12:35 PM

I hate to do it but I’m taking a break today. I just physically need the rest. I don’t know why my tummy is acting like this right now but it’s annoying. Maybe I should start tracking these events so if I end up seeing a specialist, I’ll have something to give them. Might also help for my own knowledge too. 

1:13 PM

This fucking sucks. I cant even consider much happening to even be “abnormal”, Its just making me feel BAD. I want it to stop. Maybe I ate something off??? But what could it have been? Everything I’ve eaten has a very very low chance of being spoiled. Its also been gentle foods. Why the fuck is my body reacting like this? I guess it could be the cheese I ate but I never expect it to get THIS bad. 

11:41 PM

My stomach started feeling better around 5pm. I even felt genuinely hungry which is uncommon. I mean wholesome, tummy rumbling hungry. I ate a can of beanie weenies and some french fries. The beans were weird to me, they were way more bland than I remember which was kind of weirding me out. But is exactly the kind of thing I need to stop. I’ve made the conscious effort to not overthink this. The can was fine, the smell and texture were fine. My taste buds were probably just thrown off by the salty fries, especially considering the first bite didn’t taste weird to me. I guess I’m still overthinking it but the goal is to accept the truth and move on. I don’t want to stress over dumb shit like this. 

12:44 AM

Minor traumatic memory time. I remember age 5 when I was in a North Carolina courthouse while my parents were fighting for custody over me. I remember being largely alone for it, I was sitting outside the room they were doing it in. I remember it was high up and I would look out the window. My memory paints it as much higher than it probably was. I remember it like a skyscraper but realistically it might have been a 3rd or 4th floor. I remember looking at the brick ledge outside the window wishing I could be a bug out there, seemingly unreachable by anything else. Who would bother an insect tucked away in some bricks on the side of a wall so high up?

I remember wanting to be put with my dad which wouldn’t have been a good thing but I didn’t know that because I was a kid. I felt so helpless because I was told by him that all I had to do was go into the room and say I wanted to be with him but I was far too afraid. I know now it probably wouldn’t have done much considering the horrible case my father had, but my child mind made me think I was failing him and myself. I feel such sorrow at this memory and wonder how it might have shaped me as a person. I think when memories have such an important nostalgic feeling, it must mean they played a very big part in my mental development. I figure that the reason they still feel so strongly is because I still feel that way today about a lot of things. I still feel like I fail myself and others because of my fear of doing things that need to be done. I also feel like it won’t matter in the end since everything is outside of my control so why should I try anyways? 

Logically I know what’s in my control and what I should be doing to improve myself so there’s no real problem here. Just me talking to myself really. I just had this memory again and wanted to break it down a little. 

I still wish I could be that bug sometimes. Maybe with a friend there though. A couple little bugs high up someplace where no one will bother them. 

[finelinevogue]

could you write something about the readers parents not liking her and harry comforts her please

ok this is going to be quite sad and angsty so hold on tight!

Y/N was crying in her room. Again.

This was turning out to be a daily occurrence now. Wake up. Get shouted at. Go to school. Learn how to dissect a frog and master how to write the perfect essay. Come home. Get shouted at. Sleep. The weekends, she didn’t get all the good in-between stuff, it was just waking up to be shouted at.

For what? Well not even Y/N could answer that.

Her parents had despised her since the day she was born, or at least Y/N presumed. She was never allowed to go out without permission from her parents. She was not allowed to eat certain foods, because “she didn’t need to be any fatter”. She wasn’t supposed to wear anything inappropriate. She wasn’t allowed relationships. Although that last one, she cheated on.

Harry had been Y/Ns best friend all through high-school, until they reached college and Harry couldn’t wait any longer to make her officially his. He wanted her so badly. She was his best friend but he craved for more. It took Y/N a lot of persuading, but it was the best thing she’d ever done for herself. Harry was kind to her. He treated her with respect and love - something she’d never had from her parents.

Having a relationship whilst being instructed you weren’t allowed one, made things very difficult. Harry could only see Y/N when she allowed him to. After finishing chores she would tell her parents she was going to grab food or cleaning supplies from the grocery store, only to go and spend a few hours with Harry in his treehouse. She would always come back with a bag full of shopping and made sure she covered the hickeys on her neck well. It would be hard to explain their origin of those marks to her parents.

“Y/N!”

Her mum had never provided her with a nickname, only ever calling her by her proper name. Harry gave her nicknames and pet names galore; baby, honey, sweetheart, lovie, darling and petal to name but a few.

You had learnt that shouting back was “never okay” so you left your bedroom and walked down the stairs to find your mum, who’d just shouted for you.

“Yes mum?” You timidly asked, standing at the door with your fingers fiddling with each other.

Your mum turned and scoffed at the sight of you. “Oh Jesus Y/N! You look horrible. That dress is disgusting.” It just so happened to be your favourite dress - a simple, long - as necessary - white dress with pretty flowers embroidered in baby pink and blue across the skirt. It made you feel like a weightless princess. “Don’t you agree?” Your mum asked your dad.

“Oh yes. Too much fat showing.” Your dad lovingly commented back.

You looked down at yourself, thinking that maybe it was showing a bit too much skin and therefore showing off your fat. Harry always told you that you were completely beautiful - an angel - but it was hard to believe on days like this. You crossed your arms over your chest in discomfort. Speaking back would only make things worse, so you took the verbal abuse as it came.

“Now,” your mum sat up a bit more, “i’m finding it really hard to look at you right now, Y/N, because i’m hurt by you.” Tears, fake of course, were forming in her eyes.

“W-why?”

“Mrs Tucker said she saw you and a young boy kissing outside the grocery store the other night - the same night you said you were going to pick up cleaning supplies.” Your heart dropped to your feet, because it was true. You had been with Harry. You’d never thought about anyone catching you, mainly because you thought no one cared about you enough. Mrs Tucker does like a good gossip though, dammit.

“A boy Y/N!” Your dad shouted in reiteration, making you flinch to the noise.

“Now I told Mrs Tucker that was being silly. That lady will do anything for a natter.” You stilled, thinking you were off the hook, but you should ‘t have been so quick to let your guard down. “Until your dad and I followed you to the grocery store the next night, although we never reached the store did we Y/N? No we were outside a house instead.”

Oh no. You are so dead.

“A boys house, Y/N? You weren’t raised to be a whore.” Your dad spat at you, turning away from you as if the sight of you was disgusting.

“God knows who he is or what you’re doing with him, but it stops. Right now, today.” Your mum gritted through her teeth, obviously trying to keep her calm.

“But—”

“No!” You mum screamed. “I will not be seen as the mother of a daughter who sleeps with random boys, instead of studying and working hard for her family!”

This was so 1800s. This was your life.

You had actual tears forming in your eyes now, unlike those your mum bared. It was so silly that this was making you cry but you were so upset that they thought they could control your life this way. It was devastating.

“I-I.. I love him though.” You choked out between tiny sobs, “I love him.” You whispered - that having been the first time you’d told someone else other than Harry. It actually felt good. Relieving. To declare your love for Harry made the world feel possible.

“Love? You no nothing about love.” You dad rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

“The only reason I don’t know about love is because I never got it from either of you.” You started to fight back. This was a battle you were determined to win. No more hiding behind a timid figure. You were willing to stand up for yourself - no one else was going to.

“Because there’s nothing to love about you!”

You didn’t recall who this came from, all you remember is your heart dropping below the floor and fleeing from the room. Fleeing from the house. Fleeing from a family who didn’t see you as anything but a human being. You weren’t a daughter to them. You were nothing. Your heart called elsewhere. It yearned for the person closest to you.

It wasn’t until you were met with Harry’s front door that you realised where you were and what had happened.

“Oh Y/N! Hi lov—” Anne greeted you, until she saw that you were crying heavily and your chest was rising rapidly. “Harry!” She shouted into the house, leaving you a brief moment to collapse onto the floor in front of you. You didn’t care for the pain that ran through your knees from the impact - only the pain in your heart from the break it had just suffered.

“Woah angel, hey, hey.” Harry was by your side within seconds, completely incasing his body around you. Your head laid buried against his warm chest and his arms hugged you close to him like never before. His smell was one of home. He encompassed you and made you feel safe and loved. You weren’t alone.

“I-i’m unloveable.”

“But I love you.” Harry whispered against your hair, warm air softly kissing your skin.

“Yes, but—”

“No, “but”. I love you, Y/N L/N, I really fucking do. You’re my other half, baby.” He kissed your forehead a few times, knowing that’s your second favourite place to be kissed. “Your parents don’t deserve you, they really don’t. They’re cruel and cold-hearted, but that doesn’t mean I am. I think you’re beautiful, clever and kind. I think you’re everything i could ever want. And I know that you can’t be unloveable, because i’m, so deeply, in love with you.”

Harry continued to rock you, as your cried into his chest. You’d never believed in yourself before meeting him and you never thought that he could be so genuine towards you. He couldn’t care less what your parents think, as long as he helped remind you that you’re none of what they think of you. You’re so much better than mindless words. You make you you, not your parents. Harry’s helped you discover who you are and who you want to be. Even though your miles from becoming who you want to be, and you have your setbacks, you’re proud of how far you’ve come.

You cried against his chest, until the pain softened and your could regain your breath again. You unburied yourself from his hold and looked up to him with love in your eyes.

“There’s my beautiful girl, looking like a princess in you pretty dress.” He smiled down at you, even though you knew you had puffy eyes, red cheeks and a snotty nose. He loved you and all your perfect imperfections.

“Thank you, H.” You said with a wobble to your lips, really meaning your words.

“I know, baby.”

“I really do love you too.” You made sure he knew. His heart fluttered a little faster over your words. He leaned down to kiss you gently, minding all the salty water and grimy snot that laid on your face. His kiss sent butterflies swarming through your stomach and a new type of red appeared on your cheeks.

“Waffles anyone?” Anne asked as she stood at the door, the smells of sweet honey and cream only hitting you now. It was that moment that you realised your heart had never belonged with your parents, your heart belonged here, with Harry. Forever and always.

[fruitcoops]

Cake Off

Happy birthday, Finn O'Hara! Here's to hoping all your wishes come true <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Marlene waved to the camera as she wove a small whisk into her bun; behind her, five young men sat in front of a well-lit industrial kitchen. “Hello, Lions, and welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m your host, Marlene McKinnon, and we’re here today to celebrate someone we all love very much.”

“Some more than others,” Leo corrected.

“Today is Finn O’Hara’s 25thbirthday,” Marlene continued. “And my gift to him was letting him pick what our next video was going to be. Being the agent of chaos we know and love, he chose to force his friends to make him birthday cakes. Cap, Knutty, I know you two are feeling pretty confident about this. Tremzy, Kasey, and Loops, how are we feeling today?”

Logan’s expression was rather pained. “Can I apologize in advance?”

“I have…a history with ovens,” Kasey said carefully. “Kind of like Britain’s history with the rest of the world, except I’m the rest of the world and the oven wins nine times out of ten.”

“I don’t bake,” Remus sighed. “This is going to be an adventure. Can I leave if I already got him a present?”

“Nope!” Marlene chirped. “To your stations, everyone!”

The five of them trooped to the countertops, which had been covered with a colorful assortment of baking supplies; Logan’s smile grew even more nervous. “Is there a guidebook, or something?”

Marlene ruffled his hair as she passed. “Where’s the fun in that? You have two hours to make a unique birthday cake. On your marks—”

Kasey went pale. “Wait—”

“—get set—”

“Marlene, please,” Remus begged.

“—go!”

“Oh my god,” Logan muttered. “Uh, I don’t have a recipe.”

Marlene’s grin was wicked. “That’s the extra bonus fun.”

Leo paused from where he was measuring flour into a sifter and raised his hand. “Finn’s not actually tasting everyone’s cakes, right? ‘Cause making him sick on his birthday seems a bit mean.”

“He only has to try one bite of each,” Marlene assured him as she stopped by Sirius’ station, where he was gathering his ingredients in a line. “Cap, what are you making today?”

“Vanilla with chocolate frosting. I know the recipe by heart, but I only make it when I’m stressed.” A furrow appeared between his brows before he straightened up and raised his voice. “Hey, someone stress me out!”

“Playoffs!” Kasey shouted from across the room. All five men immediately hurried to knock on the wooden cabinets.

“Thanks!” Sirius gave him a thumbs-up and Kasey winked.

“And somebody won’t be sleeping tonight,” Remus muttered, flicking sugar at Kasey. “Thanks, Bliz.”

Logan was still bracing himself against the countertop when Marlene arrived at his table. “How’re you feeling, Tremz? I see you haven’t chosen any ingredients.”

“There’s a very fine line between making your boyfriend a birthday cake and poisoning him,” Logan said after a moment. “And I think I’m about to find out where it is.”

“What are you making?”

“I don’t know yet. Whatever happens, happens.”

“Fair enough,” Marlene laughed as she moved on. “Leo?”

“I’m gonna make a lemon cake,” he said with a proud smile as he mixed the dry ingredients. “And it’s going to be delicious.”

“Do you bake at home very often? You sound confident.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “For special occasions, yeah. I vaguely know what I’m doing, so I feel pretty good.”

“How do you think Logan’s cake will turn out?”

Leo paused and glanced up. A beat of silence passed before he bit his lower lip. “I think it’s a really good thing that Finn has two boyfriends that are making him cakes.”

“Rude,” Logan grumbled as he dumped another cupful of flour into a bowl to Sirius’ obvious horror. He stuck his tongue out. “Don’t give me that look, Cap, this cake is going to be fucking amazing.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows and turned back to his own batter. “If you say so.”

Logan stood on his toes and poured the next cup directly over Sirius’ head in a poof of white. The studio went silent. With a cough, a bit of flour puffed from Sirius’ mouth. “Cap?” Kasey ventured.

“Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.” He slowly took a towel off the oven door and wiped his face with it, then whipped around and snapped it at Logan’s thigh—it connected with a sharp sound, followed by a yelp as Logan shoved Leo in front of him as a makeshift shield. “You can’t hide behind him forever!”

“Remember, you only have two hours!” Marlene called as she dodged a patch of flour on the floor. Sirius scowled and put the towel back down on the counter; Logan backed away to his station with a suspicious glare. “Loops, how are you?”

“I’m minding my own business,” he said innocently. “Staying in my lane. Paying no attention to the idiots behind the curtain, if you will.”

“Impressive. What are you making for our wonderful Harzy?”

“Spite cake.”

“What?”

“Spite cake,” he repeated with a shadow of a smile. “It’s carrot cake, but with no special ingredient of love or appreciation, because he knows how much I hate baking and he’s been making fun of me over text all morning.”

Leo frowned. “Weren’t you two bonding over how much you hate carrot cake when we went to lunch yesterday?”

“Hence the name,” Remus said as he pulled a cheese grater out of the lineup.

“And last, but certainly not least, Kasey.” Marlene leaned against the edge of his table. “How’s it going over here?”

“So far, so good.” He eyed his batter and poked one of the lumps with a fork. “Does this look ready to you?”

“Seems a bit wet, to be honest.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Do people put milk in cake batter?” On the other end of the kitchen, Sirius and Leo shared a look.

Marlene patted his arm. “Good luck, Bliz.”

The camera cut for a moment—when it returned, the three bakers on the far end seemed to be even more flustered than before. “You have one hour left!” someone off-screen announced.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Logan held his spatula up. The batter remained stuck to it in a doughy lump. “Is this supposed to happen?”

Leo’s eyes flickered between Sirius, who was clearly shocked into silence, and Logan, who was growing more distressed by the second. “Sure, honey.”

“Baby, it looks like jello,” Remus called as he shook his mixing bowl with a nervous glance to Sirius. “Why does it look like jello?”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered as he crossed the room; the second he looked over Remus’ shoulder, his eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“I don’t know.”

“You put flour in, right?”

“Hey, no helping!” Kasey protested, swatting Sirius on the shoulder with an oven mitt. “We all fail on our own merit here. Tremy’s making concrete, Loops has jello, and I’ve got soup, so you and Knutty can fuck off back to your perfect batter and let us suffer in peace!”

“Jesus, Bliz, did you put water in that?”

“No! I put butter and milk in!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“One hour left!” Marlene shouted.

“Fuck it, it’s good enough.” Remus grabbed the nearest cake pan and dumped his batter in, then put it in the oven. He turned the heat on and faced the camera guiltily. “Harzy, I know this was meant to spite you, it really was just meant to be a carrot cake. Not…that.”

Logan sprinkled a handful of chocolate sprinkled into his mixing bowl. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he singsonged. “But I know I’m doing it poorly!”

“Oh my god,” Remus said suddenly as he licked some of his batter off his finger. “Oh my—oh my god.”

Kasey looked up from pouring his batter into a pan in mild alarm. “What?”

“Oh my god, that’s terrible. Here, try it.”

Kasey put his cake in the oven before swiping a bit off and tasting it. His whole face scrunched. “What?”

“I know,” Remus laughed, passing the spatula to Logan. “It’s like getting punched with a cinnamon stick.”

“I can feel it in my nose,” Logan coughed. “Here, try mine.”

Leo regarded them with a healthy amount of disbelief. “Why are you all tasting it if you know it’s bad?”

“Because Marlene needs workable content.”

“Do it for the vine.”

“Because I’m a dumbass, rookie.” Kasey lifted the spatula up. “Cap, your fiancé made toxic sludge in cake form. Want some?”

Sirius hesitated, then sighed and headed over. Leo threw his hands in that air. “You, too?”

“What else am I supposed to—” Sirius faltered with a harsh exhale and braced his hands against the counter, licking his lips. “How many eggs did you put in that?”

“Four? Five?”

“How much cinnamon?”

“A teaspoon?”

Sirius took a fortifying breath through his nose. “Teaspoon or tablespoon?”

“Tablespoon,” Kasey answered for him. “Definitely a tablespoon. Try mine.”

“You two are never allowed in a kitchen again,” Sirius said, though he swiped his finger along the inside of Kasey’s bowl and tasted his batter with a grimace. “Ugh. It’s just melted butter.”

“How did you make it taste like salty butter and nothing else?” Logan asked, sounding genuinely interested.

“Well, Tremzy, I put salt and butter in it.”

Leo’s phone timer went off and he opened the oven door; four faces turned toward him in shock as he pulled a golden cake out and checked the center with a toothpick. Logan closed his eyes and bent closer, taking a deep inhale. “I wish the viewers could smell this, because it’s heaven.”

“Can it be my birthday instead?” Kasey asked. “Please?”

“Get back, you hyenas!” Leo whacked him lightly on the hand with a spoon when he reached out to poke the cake. “That oven was 350 degrees!”

Sirius glanced up at the camera. “That’s 177 degrees, for all you smart people out there.”

“Boo, Celsius.” Remus kissed his cheek. “You smell like sugar.”

“How much time do you all have left on your cakes?” Marlene asked from her perch next to the sink.

Logan, Remus, and Kasey shared a look before Logan turned back to her. “I don’t know?”

“You can’t answer that with another question,” she laughed.

“Ten minutes,” he guessed.

“Whenever it starts to smell good,” Remus said. “Though I doubt that’s going to happen.”

Kasey cocked his head and scanned Leo’s cake for a second. “When it starts looking like that.”

“It won’t,” Leo informed him.

“Damn, Knutty, okay.”

Marlene shook her head. “We’re going to cut filming until everyone’s cakes are out of the oven, but in the meantime we’ve got some special messages for our favorite redhead.”

A banner reading Happy Birthday, Finn! appeared on the screen with a burst of confetti before the usual studio replaced it, with its white walls and folding chairs. Dumo crossed one leg over the other with a soft smile. “One thing I admire about Finn is his tenacity. When he wants something, he’ll go for it with his whole heart.”

“I love his humor,” Leo said in the next short video. He was smiling as well, and had a faint blush on his freckled cheeks. “And the way he makes breakfast in the mornings. All the little things he does to make the people he loves happy. And he really does love with his whole heart. There’s no holding back with him.”

“Finn?” Sirius thought for a moment. “He’s a good person. I know that might sound lame, but he’s one of those people that you meet that always makes you feel happy, and confident, and supported. Anyone who meets him should count themselves lucky.”

Logan’s face was filled with nothing but affection. “I love his patience and his kindness. Whether that was helping me work on my English in college, or making the rookies feel welcome, or even the way he talks to complete strangers when they ask for directions on the street. Everything about him is kind.”

“Ah, jeez.” Remus bit his lower lip. “I think—I think what I admire most about Finn is that he never lets anyone else define who he is. He’s comfortable in himself and makes everyone around him feel safe. It’s sappy, but it’s true. He’s one of my best friends and I’m grateful for him every day.”

“He’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met,” James said. “Both on and off the ice. He will be there to support his friends in any capacity and I think we all need to be a little more like Finn that way.”

“Great player.” Arthur nodded. “Great player, and an even better teammate. I can put O’Hara anywhere on the ice and he’ll throw everything he’s got into doing his best. I can’t think of a single Lion who doesn’t love being on the same shift as him.”

Talker grinned, leaning back in his chair with a shake of his head. “Finn just loves hockey. He takes it seriously, of course, but he loves being out there with us and I’m always happy when we’re on a line together. He goes out there every night and has a blast. I admire a lot about him, but especially that.”

“It’s hard to pick one specific thing that I admire about him,” Kasey said, shifting in his chair. “He’s Finn. He’s annoying as all hell, and I love him for it. I’m not sure. Can I make a list?”

“Harzy is very cool,” Olli laughed. “Very cool and very fun to be around. He has a quick wit and truly cares about all of us.”

Kuny raised his eyebrows. “What I like about Harzy? Oh, everything. Everything. He is good friend, good teammate, always there when we need him. Good for Tremzy and Knutty, too. He would turn red like fire engine if he heard me. Don’t tell him I say that.”

The video changed to a wide view of the whole team as they waved to the camera. “Happy birthday, Harzy!” they chorused. “Bitch ass moves!”

The kitchen was much cleaner when the video resumed; all the cooking supplies had been taken away, leaving five hockey players with their cakes in front of them. Leo’s cake was a bit lopsided, though the yellow frosting was cheerful and even—next to him, Logan’s cake looked more like a squished loaf of bread. Sirius’ was plain and elegant, while Kasey’s frosting was still dripping as the camera zoomed in on it.

“Wow,” Finn said after a moment of silence from his seat at the main table, where five slices of cake had been placed on small plates with a label for each name. “Just…wow.”

“You can start with whichever one you want,” Marlene told him.

“I think I’ll save Cap and Leo’s for last. Uh, Kase, what happened here?”

Kasey sighed. “I wish I knew.”

Finn gave it a wary look, then took a bite; his chewing slowed to a stop almost immediately and Logan’s shoulders started to shake from his suppressed laughter. “You know it’s burnt on the outside and not cooked on the inside, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just checking.” With great effort, he swallowed. “Why is it wet?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, man.”

Finn took the next plate, then paused. “Re, I love you, but…”

Remus shook his head. “I know.”

“I’m genuinely afraid to try this.”

“You should be.”

The second it touched his tongue, Finn started laughing. “Jesus, it’s a straight shot of cinnamon. Why is it crunchy?”

“It’s carrot cake!”

“You know I hate carrot cake!”

“Look, I gave it my best shot. It really wasn’t supposed to do…” He gestured at the plate. “That.”

“Lo, baby, please tell me yours is better than the last two.”

Logan thought for a moment. “It was made with love and that’s all that matters.”

Finn took a deep breath before taking a bite. A range of emotions washed over his face—pleasant surprise, then confusion, then horror, and finally disbelief. “I…what?”

“I don’t even know.”

He swallowed, then ate another bite. “Oh, bad idea. This—are there chocolate chips in here? And almonds?”

“Yeah. You like those, right?”

“Usually, yes. It’s kind of got the texture of fruitcake, but—” Finn broke off and picked the slice up, giving it a shake. Not even a crumb fell out of place, and the rest of the boys burst out laughing. “Lo. Logan. Light of my life, what the fuck?”

“Happy birthday?”

“This is the best birthday present ever. Alright, Cap, your turn.” He took a piece of Sirius’ cake and nodded. “Yep, that’s cake.”

Sirius blinked at him. “And?”

Finn shrugged. “It’s cake. Classic flavors, good texture. I like it. Definitely tastes like a cake you would make.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s calling you basic,” Kasey said, patting Sirius’ shoulder sympathetically. “But hey, at least yours was cooked all the way.”

“And now for boyfriend number two,” Finn continued.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Boyfriend number two.”

“Oh, that’s so good,” Finn groaned around a mouthful of cake. His eyebrows pitched. “I love it.”

“What about it?” Marlene prompted.

“For starters, it’s cooked all the way through. The lemon is freakin’ amazing, and the frosting isn’t melting off the sides or anything. I can’t even taste everyone else’s anymore. It’s a helluva cake. Happy birthday to me. Will you make this every day?”

“No,” Leo said, though there was a pleased flush on his face. “But maybe on the weekend.”

Finn scraped the last of the crumbs off his plate. “Alright, everyone, come get a piece of this magic. Thank you for doing this, by the way. I know three of you hate baking.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Logan admitted as he settled himself on one of Finn’s thighs with a slice of his own and kissed his temple. “Sorry for almost poisoning you. Oh, that is tasty.”

“I love you anyway. I think Loops and Bliz were actually the closest to doing that, so you’re all good.” Finn raised his eyebrows and craned his neck over Logan’s shoulder. “Speaking of…”

“Lasagna or chicken piccata?” Remus asked. Sirius took advantage of his moment of distraction by stealing a bite off his plate and received a playful glare in response, though it was soothed by a kiss on his cheek.

“Lasagna, please.”

“Does Friday work?”

Finn gave him a thumbs-up. “Sorry, Harzy,” Kasey said as he carefully got the last bits of frosting off his fork. “I have no marketable skills to apologize with. You don’t want me anywhere near a stove or an oven.”

A gleam lit in Finn’s eye. “Will you get in all your pads and play chicken with Knutty and I?”

“For the twentieth time—”

“It’s my birthday,” he wheedled, pouting his lower lip out with the Bambi eyes turned to full blast.

Kasey sighed. “Fine.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Thanks for joining us for our birthday celebration,” Marlene said with a smile. “The best estimations of these recipes are linked on our website, with a few tweaks to make sure none of your loved ones get food poisoning this August. Have a great day, Lions!”

[pies-writes-and-more]

HIHIHI I HAVE A REQUEST IF YOURE UP FOR IT KASJHDASKD i was wondering if you could do tsukishima, akaashi, and kageyama (you dont have to do all of them if you dont want to) with a s/o who loves giving affection but doesn't really take it *seriously* when they recieve it? like they think that the character is joking bc they could never actually be that amazing? (sry if this made absolutely no sense just ignore it if you want kaskjasd)

Warnings: potentially some swearing, Akaashi saying “good girl” which I do think deserves a warning, Y/N having some insecure moments, but all fluffy endings promise!

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji, & Kageyama Tobio, all with a fem!Reader

A/N: okay @lucyheartfilias-wife i know this took foREVER for me to finish and I’m so sorry xD but i kept going back and forth between ideas so this is what we ended up with! I hope they’re decent enough!! <3 Not of the following gifs are mine! Creds to the original creators :)

Haikyuu Masterlist

Tsukishima Kei

If Tsukishima knew one thing, it was that he was a lucky boy. Somehow he had managed to make a girl who was probably made of sunshine and rainbows, like him back and somehow figured out how to keep you around.

Although he always had an annoyed look on his face when they did, anytime the team asked about you or mentioned you to him, he was always happy to subtly brag about you.

“Our little Tsukishima has grown up hasn’t he?” Sugawara laughed, slapping pats to the back of the tall first year. “You’re not blackmailing her are you?” Tsukishima just rolled his eyes in response.

“It must be nice to have such a pretty girl around!” Noya whined loudly, punching the wall angrily.

“It is,” Tsukishima smirked, enjoying the immediate anger that Noya tried to turn on him. Daichi held the wild libero back with an exasperated smiled, shaking his head.

“She’s really smart too isn’t she?” Hinata gaped, having only really heard of this girl that Tsukishima was dating but Yamaguchi said it was a girl in their class so she had to be smart.

“Anyone’s smart compared to you,” Tsukishima scoffed but shrugged. “She’s the top of our class.”

Everyone made sounds of excitement and surprise, the upperclassmen nodding in approval, “Who knew this salty bean pole could find someone smart and pretty to like him back?” Tanaka snickered and Tsukishima just rolled his eyes.

You hadn’t meant to overhear the conversations happening in the club room but you were just waiting for your boyfriend against the railing. To say you were a bit embarrassed was an understatement. And that embarrassment was probably written all over your face because when Tsukishima finally came out, his cheeks turned pink seeing your expression.

“What?” He asked after a beat, avoiding your eyes as he started to walk towards the stairs.

“You know you don’t have to lie to your teammates right?” You asked him eventually, giving him a small smile. “I’m sure they know you’re just being nice.”

For once, you had actually surprised Tsukishima. Normally he could tell exactly what you were thinking but this time, he actually stopped in his steps and looked at you like you had grown a second head in the last few moments.

“Lie?” He asked, tilting his head up in thought before scoffing a bit, “What part of what I said was a lie? For that matter, how much of that nonsense did you hear?”

The word nonsense rang in your ear repeatedly, echoing all your insecurities further into your subconscious, “I dunno, how much were you saying?” You retorted, glancing at him with a shrug. “Come on, I wanna get home before it gets too dark,” you decided when he didn’t answer right away. The two of you started walking, Tsukishima clearly deep in thought because for once on your way home, he wasn’t complaining about the boys or listening to music. He was just… walking.

“When did I lie?” He finally asked at your doorstep, as if realizing if he didn’t ask now, he never would. He grabbed your wrist before you could turn away and leave without answering him, tugging you closer so he could look right into your eyes (he could always tell when you were lying to him).

“What?” You squirmed a bit. You knew exactly what he was asking but did you really want to admit it?

“You said I lied to my teammates. What did I lie about?” His frown was tight, eyes as serious as ever. “I’ve been thinking about everything I said to them and I can’t think of a lie that I told. Was it about everyone being smarter than Hinata? Because I really was telling the truth.” The little smirk at the end made you feel like he was trying to keep this lighthearted. But the topic weighed so heavily on both your shoulders.

You could feel Tsukishima keeping your gaze right on him, and knew if you looked away, he might just get more upset. So you were forced to just look at him awkwardly, as if he was looking through your very thoughts.

“I asked you out didn’t I?” He continued when you didn’t respond right away. “Doesn’t that make you my girlfriend?”

You let out a little laugh, surprised that that’s what he had come up with after that very silent walk home. “Yeah, I suppose so,” you smiled, finally pulling your eyes away from him and staring at your hands as you fiddled with your fingers.

“So what-”

“They’re just being nice,” you tried to tell him awkwardly, cutting him off from asking one more time. “I’m not… I’m not everything they’re pretending I am. And you don’t have to keep up the charade with them.”

Tsukishima’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, what charade could you possibly be talking about.

“I know I’m not as pretty as your managers,” you explained quietly. “And I’m sure being surrounded by them all the time has got you having some high expectations and standards for girls. That’s why I was surprised when you asked me out… but I know it’s probably just cause we’re always together and we study together. I know I’m pretty helpful when it comes to schoolwork so-”

Tsukishima started laughing. Like genuinely, throwing his head back, from the bottom of his belly kind of laugh. Your eyes widened as you watched this normally cool and collected idiot snicker himself practically to death.

“T-Tsukishima?” You blinked, poking him a little to make sure he wasn’t just having some sort of weird seizure.

He finally ran out of breath, standing back up straighter than ever and hitting the top of your head (not as gently as he should’ve, how rude), “Listen here, shortie,” he huffed, leaning down slightly so you were forced to look at him. “I have high standards for anyone I even keep around me. The only one who’s exceeded my standards for dating though, is you.”

You watched him, blinking nervously as if he was going to laugh in your face again and tell you it was a joke.

“I didn’t lie to them, idiot,” he shook his head, flicking your forehead. “You’re way too pretty to be as self-conscious as you are.”

Words would never solve your self-consciousness, you knew this. But if there was ever a moment that would ever come close - it would be this one.

“Go inside alright,” he grinned at you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and shoving you closer to your door. “And the next time I compliment you, you better accept it.”

You couldn’t even retort anything back before he ushered you inside, gave you a cheeky wink, and started to head home.

You were still very bad at accepting Tsukishima’s compliments and almost felt tortured with how much he could try to get you to understand how much he loved you. So naturally, Tsukishima just did it more and more.

Everything you did became a compliment, just to make you all hot headed and make him chuckle. He would praise you for being one of the smartest people he knew after a test or assignment, he’d say you were the cutest person up on the stands after his volleyball games, would just shower you in aggressive amounts of affection (well aggressive for him).

And then one day…

One day you day you didn’t fight back as much. And Tsukishima just smiled because he would never say anything to you he didn’t mean.

Akaashi Keiji

Akaashi was literally an embodiment of everything that someone could want. He was calm and wonderfully humble, his voice was like a mellow song that you could fall asleep to and he had the most amazing biceps that just made your heart flutter every time you saw them.

He was everything you could ever dream of which was both incredible… and not at the same time. It almost hurt to know that he was this unobtainable boy standing near you. Sure, you were dating - but how long until he realized you were beneath him? How much longer would it take him to realize that there was better.

You couldn’t hide these thoughts from Akaashi and more often than not, he’d give you a look like I know what you’re thinking, stop that, and then tell you he loves you before you just nod and smile and try to focus on something else. He’d let it go there, but he’d probably spend the rest of the day with you trying to convince you he really meant it.

But today he wasn’t next to you to read your face. Today, he was going to be down on that court, showing off his incredible reflexes and sports ability, and you would be up here. Blending in with the crowd. You were a filler character - something to fill the stands with and not be noticed. Unoriginal. Boring.

“Y/N!” Bokuto ran to you, grinning as wide as ever. “Look what I brought you!” He held up Akaashi’s jacket happily, waving it over his head as he jumped up and down in front of you.

You tried to put on a smile, as if you hadn’t just been spinning in your insecurities a few seconds ago. Your eyes focused on the jacket that Bokuto was trying to put on you, blinking as you came to the realization that he had 100% stolen this from your boyfriend without his knowledge, “Bokuto, won’t he need this?” You offered with a small laugh.

He shook his head with a grin, “He practically discarded it somewhere. I thought I’d come bring it to you! It would probably make him super happy to see you in his jacket! And you look so cute in our colours!” Bokuto declared, patting your head. You tried to start telling him that he should bring it back and that you weren’t really sure Akaashi would want you wearing it, but suddenly you could hear his coach on the court screaming from him to get his ass back down there. “Whoops! Gotta run! Cheer hard for us!” Bokuto gave you a thumbs up before running down.

You stood there for a moment, face feeling hot as you start to smell Akaashi’s scent on the jacket. How did he manage to smell this good all the time?

You could hear whispers from people in the stands, some people wondering who you were or if you were Bokuto or Akaashi’s girlfriend, since it was Bokuto who gave you the jacket.

All the ruckus from his coach made Akaashi actually look over, smirking a bit while Bokuto was getting scolded. He sheepishly made his way over, trying to seem all innocent to his best friend.

“Where the hell even were you?” Akaashi asked, throwing him a toss as the boys warmed up.

“Oh! Just dropping something off to Y/N for you!” Bokuto grinned, nodding in your direction as he received the ball nice and high.

Akaashi shouldn’t have looked over. But he did. His eyes locked onto you and saw you in his jacket and for a moment, he definitely spaced out. His whole brain was just thinking about you and nothing else and he didn’t knock himself out of it until Bokuto’s pass knocked him right in the head.

“Akaashi! Are you okay?” Bokuto laughed, knowing the pass had been pretty soft. Akaashi’s cheeks turn a bit pink as he shook it off, running after the ball.

You were wearing his jacket. And you looked so good in it.

After a complete win for the game, Akaashi was so hyped up to see you. You had worn his jacket the whole game and he had to avoid looking at you because you were just so distracting.

But now that it was over, he wanted nothing more than to swoop you into a hug and admire you. You gave him a huge grin when you caught up with the team, excitedly cheering them for their win and giving Bokuto high fives.

Akaashi watched you with a small smile on his face. You glanced over at him and gave a nervous sort of smile, noting there was a difference in how he was looking at you. “Oh! Here, you’ll get cold soon when your adrenaline stops pumping,” you said, pulling the jacket off.

“It’s alright,” he insisted, smirking a bit down at you. “You look gorgeous, I don’t want you to take it off,” he admitted with a smile, patting your head adoringly.

Your face gets all hot again, avoiding his eyes quickly, “Alright alright, Mr. High Off Of A Win,” you laughed nervously, poking at his chest gently. He raised an eyebrow at your dismissive behaviour.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t go spreading stuff that isn’t true,” you shrugged, shoving your hands in the jacket pocket. Sure, you liked the jacket but there was no way you were as pretty as he was making you out to be. Gorgeous? No way.

Akaashi’s eyes darkened slightly hearing this, taking your chin into his fingers and tilting your chin up so you were forced to look at him, “You think I’d lie to you?”

The question made you shrink inside, noting his hardened expression. He didn’t like it when you were hard on yourself, always made you notice all the little great things about you. But this wasn’t a private conversation, and people were starting to stare, which just made your face go even warmer. “N-No,” you mumble out shyly, trying to look away but he kept your gaze.

“Good girl,” he smirked at you, tapping your nose gently, “Now take the compliment. And wear my jacket more often, alright?”

You couldn’t help but nod at that point, Akashi smiling in his satisfaction before dragging you off for the team’s celebratory meal. The pit in your stomach that liked to tell you you were a filler character was slightly less intense now, after talking to your boyfriend. Akaashi had such an effect on you and there was no denying it. How could a guy like that be with a girl like you, you would never understand. But there was such an honesty in his eyes, and he was right after all, he wasn’t the type to lie about these things… so maybe. Just maybe. There was some truth to it.

Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama wasn’t the best at noticing hints and subtle things, and honestly, he’d rather if people were just blunt and to the point with him. But with you, he knew that he would have to learn between the lines. It wasn’t because you weren’t great at communication (and let’s be honest, even if you were bad at it, Kageyama was in NO place to call you out on that), but rather, Kageyama understood that at some point in relationships, it was important to see what the other person wanted.

So when he started really trying to read you, he found himself almost discouraged by a reoccurring instance.

It was real subtle at first, and in that moment, Kageyama probably wouldn’t have noticed. But he probably just smile at you and press a kiss to your forehead, thanking you for always thinking of him.

“You’re always so thoughtful, Y/N. I appreciate what you do for me,” he told you, almost like he was thanking a teacher for their help on homework which just made you laugh.

“Don’t be silly, Kageyama, it’s just a milk box,” you insisted, giving a little wave to his teammates before he left.

But it wasn’t just a milk box and even Kageyama could see that. He had forgotten his lunch today and you had shared yours with him. But he always had a milk with his lunch and you didn’t have one, but he didn’t have the chance to actually buy one before he had to head back to classes. He didn’t think he had mentioned anything about the milk, or even hesitated to eat without it. But you had still gone out of your way to buy one for him and bring it to him after classes.

You had even apologized that it was later than he usually had his milk, as if you should’ve known to get it earlier. Kageyama was amazed that you even went and bought him one. He held the box in his hands for a moment before getting called over to start practice, promising himself to have the drink right after practice.

It wasn’t just that you brushed off his appreciation for what you did for him. Kageyama always felt something was wrong when he complimented you. So much so, he had to awkwardly ask his upperclassmen for help.

“Oh our little Kageyama needs help with his girlfriend hmmm?” Tanaka laughed, hands on his hips like he was some sort of relationship expert.

“I dunno why you’d come to us,” Daichi admitted with a smirk, leaning against a nearby wall as he considered the question. “It’s not like any of us are really all that experienced with girls.”

“But you know how to… communicate,” Kageyama explained, playing with his fingers as he shyly stared at the floor. “I’m just worried I’m… doing that thing that Hinata says I do. Where I think I’m complimenting her but I’m actually hurting her.”

Sugawara chuckled and threw his arm around his first year’s neck, fluffing up his hair playfully, “Aw! Little Tobio is growing up!”

“What kinds of things are you saying to her?” Asahi asked, offering Kageyama a smile as the blueberry boy tried to fix his now messed up hair.

Kageyama thought about it for a moment, not having to think that far back to remember an example. “This morning, she was wearing her hair differently,” Kageyama told them, gesturing towards his hair as if to act out how her hair was. “And I told her she looked very pretty.”

The boys just looked at him, as if expecting for there to be more. “Okay and?” Noya piped up, shrugging.

“That’s it,” Kageyama blinked. “Should I have said something else?”

“Why would you say something else, Kageyama?” Daichi raised an eyebrow, noting the distress in the setter’s eyes.

Kageyama huffed, remembering how you awkwardly turned away, as if he had said something brash, “She just said ‘you don’t have to do that, Kageyama’ and changed the subject. But I don’t know what she meant. Was… Was I not supposed to tell her? She did look very pretty but should I have kept that to myself?”

Sugawara gave him a sympathetic smile, “I think you did fine, Kageyama, don’t worry! Maybe she was just embarrassed.”

The others agreed, Tanaka explaining to him that some people were bashful when it came to their appearances.

“But she’s the most perfect being in the whole country!” Kageyama burst out, his forehead creased with concern. “Why shouldn’t I tell her?”

“Just in the country?” Asahi chuckled and Sugawara smacked his arm.

“Don’t tease him, I don’t think Kageyama has ever left the country!”

“Maybe she’s just not used to you complimenting her. Like how you weren’t too used to holding hands with her at the beginning of your relationship,” Daichi offered, remembering how red the boy’s face was you first took his hand at a tournament. He didn’t even know he had to hold your hand back and just had his hand staying there stiff.

Kageyama nodded slowly - he could understand that. It just took some time and then he was okay with it eventually. Now he would grab your hand out of instinct and it wasn’t something foreign to him.

After talking to his upperclassmen, Kageyama felt a little better. Perhaps it wasn’t his words then, maybe he just had to do it more.

But after a week of trial and error, Kageyama still couldn’t understand why you still seemed so uncomfortable. The day after consulting the second and third years, Kageyama had told you he really liked the way you hummed and that you had a really nice voice (he really did like it, it was his favourite thing to listen to).

But you just flickered your eyes away from him, offering a nervous laugh, “It’s nothing,” you mumbled before quickly asking him about his practice schedule.

So Kageyama thought maybe you just didn’t like talking about your singing. So when the two of you were studying, you noticed his laser focus wasn’t on his work but instead on you. His eyes were so trained on you, it was like how he was on the volleyball court.

“Kageyama?” You blinked in surprise, catching him staring at you. “Are you alright?”

“You’re really smart, Y/N!” He blurted out, a firm nod afterwards like confirming what he was saying. “I appreciate you always coming to help me work!”

But you just squirmed in your seat, turning your eyes back to your work, “I really don’t know all that much.”

It had been a week of this back and forth, Kageyama desperately trying to find what was going on. Was it him? Was he just not using the right words? Could he actually be being really rude and didn’t realize it? Was it his face? Was he supposed to smile more?

Finally, Kageyama felt like he was at the end of his rope. He didn’t know what to do now.

“The sunset is really pretty today!” You beamed as the two of you walked home from his practice. He glanced over and noticed the brilliant colours in the sky. It looked nice sure, but how could you understand that that looked pretty and you didn’t?

“I think you’re prettier.” He stated simply. Kageyama didn’t really know what lines were cheesy and what weren’t. But you did and your face just overheated immediately in response.

“K-Kageyama, don’t say things like that!” You insisted, staring to walk ahead.

“Wait!” Kageyama yelped, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you back to him. “What am I doing wrong?” he asked you desperately, his eyes wide and searching yours for some sort of answers.

You stared at him for a moment, confused by his words, “Wrong?” You repeated softly, noticing how upset he looked.

“I…” Kageyama’s voice faltered as he watched your eyes. “I keep trying to tell you how amazing you are. You do all these things for me, you help me when I’m upset and you always help me train. You throw balls for me and Hinata, even when you’d rather be at home. You call me during my jogs just to keep me company. You bring me milk when I forget mine. And you always compliment me when I’m feeling like I’m not 100%… so what am I doing wrong? Because everything I say to you… it doesn’t seem to work.”

Something in you clicked. Is this why Kageyama had been acting so weird this week?

“Kageyama… I do all that because I like you and I want you to be your best,” you explained softly. “And I compliment you because I mean it! Not because I’m trying to make you feel better. Or try to boost your self-esteem.”

There was something in your tone that Kageyama couldn’t place. What was that in your voice?

“Why are you sad when I try to tell you things?” Kageyama was practically begging you for an answer. He didn’t understand how to read things from your tone, he wanted to desperately to understand but he just couldn’t grasp it. “Sugawara told me that complimenting people on things makes them feel good… am I doing it wrong? Please just tell me, I’ll be better! I’ll be the best boyfriend!”

Your smile was almost sad and Kageyama’s heart tugged a little in his chest, “I don’t want you to say things because you feel like you have to say them,” you sighed softly, now avoiding his eyes. “I know my hair is a mess most of the time, I know that my singing isn’t some professional level shit, and I know I’m not the model kind of girl or those gorgeous girls who come to your games. I don’t need you to try and convince me otherwise…”

Kageyama’s mind felt like it was blowing up. What were you talking about?

“Don’t be so stupid,” Kageyama whined, huffing at you and poking your forehead, “You think I’m lying about these things? You think I say them because I feel like I have to?” Kageyama shook his head, taking your face into his hands. “I’m not the best with words, I know this. But you are…” Kageyama’s face twisted into a funny expression as he tried to find the words he wanted, “the most perfect thing. You’re like when I make a perfect set and the spike goes right past the blockers!”

You couldn’t help but smile as he went on talking about volleyball. You weren’t surprised - he often related things to volleyball to understand better.

“You… are the perfect jump serve. Seeing you is like I’m winning full sets at Nationals!” He expressed, looking at you with wide eyes in hopes you were understanding. “I’m not trying to make you feel better about yourself, Y/N. You are everything I could possibly want. You make me feel like volleyball isn’t the only thing that matters anymore. I want to hear you sing all the time and I love your hair no matter how you think it looks.”

Your eyes were welling up with tears as he spoke dramatically, looking up at the sky as if that would help him figure out his sentences better. When he finally looked back at you, he jumped back almost immediately in fear.

“N-No! Don’t cry! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have brought up volleyball again! I-”

You laughed and quickly shook your head, grasping his hands in yours, “Happy tears, Kageyama,” you explained softly, almost immediately burying your face in his chest as you drew him closer for a hug. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Kageyama wasn’t really sure what you were thanking him for but he hugged you tightly anyways. He hated seeing you cry and he would squeeze them all out of you until there was none left if he had to. “You are very pretty.” He stated, pressing a kiss to your head.

And this time, you didn’t argue. You just stayed there in his arms, and listened to the genuineness in his voice.

Haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to join!)

@scphiredrafts @aurumk @devilkittymusic @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @lucyheartfilias-wife @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @wolfishwriting @livy384

[cornacopicimagines]

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well. 

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride." 

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

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Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable. 

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

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The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

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The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything. 

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

[eremiie]

Hello there I really like your writing and I was maybe wondering I can get some angst of a cheating eren who break his s/o heart

yes you can!! i shed a few tears writing this bc i was listening to sad music & thinking, but i hope you enjoy, i am not the best at writing angst😪!

cheers to you - eren x reader

in which eren breaks your heart and you have no choice but to move on.

tw; crying, heartbreak ig idk

2.5k words | angst | modern au

"okay."

you pushed at sasha's phone, you didn't want to see anymore. you were trying to suppress your tears, refusing to cry in front of your two friends.

sasha took one more look at the photos before swiping out of her camera roll, looking back up at you with a frown, hitch likewise. "_____, are you okay?"

and you hated when people asked you that. you thought you were doing fine, you thought you could keep everything down but you simply thought wrong. you croaked out the smallest sound, but before you could even get a word out the tears began to spill, your eyes becoming bleary with the suffocating liquid and the suffocating feeling surrounding your heart. you felt so dumb.

hitch rushed to your side pulling you into a hug until your head fell against her shoulder, body going limp besides the soft heaves that would leave your shuddering body. the pictures of eren were embedded in your head, replaying in your mind, constantly on repeat and you wished to think of anything else that wasn't clawing at your heart like the photos lingering in your subconscious. it was all you could see, almost like a photo album; eren's hands sat on some random girls waist while she straddled him, his jaw slacked open as she ground against him, whoever taking the photo catching her mid grind. his eyes were half lidded if you remembered correctly, reddening, he must've been high.

you couldn't tell if that fact alone hurt you less or more.

your mind swiped, another photo with the same blond haired girl, this time her hands cupping his face and his hands gripping her ass while they engaged in a kiss that you wished was chaste. you were repulsed that your lips had met his in almost the same manner before he left for that party the same night. more sobs left your poor quivering lips, hitch's grip around you tightening as she tried to shush your sobs and cries.

sasha's hands ran over her face as she shook her head clear disappointment evident as she watched you and hitch.

"what did i do wrong?" you gasped for air finally pulling away from hitch, the only body part connecting with hers be your hands that she clasped so delicately as if, if she squeezed too tight you would break. "my heart hurts, it hurts, it hurts," you babbled as tears fell from the bottom of your chin and the bridge of your nose, your eyes were puffy and swollen. "this hurts so bad," you conveyed your emotions through words another gasp leaving your lips.

"you did nothing wrong," hitch reassured rubbing her thumbs against the surface of your hands. "he's just an idiot."

"it's gonna hurt, and that's okay," sasha scooted forward from her position on the floor laying her head in your lap and you knew she was right but god, you didn't want it to hurt. you wanted the pounding in your head to stop, the recurring thoughts to stop, the salty tears streaming down your cheeks to stop, i mean you wanted someone to tell you exactly where you messed up so you could go back and try again.

"do you want us to stay with you tonight?"

you looked down at the side of sasha's face, one of your hands letting go of hitch to comb through brunette hair, and the lazy bun in the back of her head seemed all too familiar already, the way a couple of flyaways framed the front of her face had you covering your mouth, repressing a gag with your palm, sasha whipping her head around to confront the source of the sound, worry on her face, but you squeezed your eyes shut, even the furrow in her brow reminding you all too much of the boy.

"______?" hitch's arms were back around you but you quickly pushed them off feeling the rising feeling of your breakfast you had not too long ago, rushing to the trash can in the corner of your dorm letting your remnants spill from your stomach. the feeling of throwing up felt so foreign to you, you couldn't even remember the last time you did it, and to some degree you wished your heart came up with it.

hitch's mouth parted in the slightest not even sure what to say but the anger behind her eyes was apparent. "baby, i'm so sorry." was all she could say in response while your body crouched beside the trash can, your hands slipping from the rim until they were palm first on the floor, slowing turning into fists.

"i wanna be alone for a couple hours." you managed to utter with a sniff.

"you sure?" sasha asked, standing up awkwardly with hitch reciprocating. you nodded your head and it felt like everything was going in snapshots, them walking to the door, the door opening and their bodies disappearing, your figure laying back in your bed and then the next snapshot didn't come, sleep had came so quick you didn't even have time to process it.

❈ ❈ ❈

your eyes fluttered slightly and you relished in the heat over you for a minute. your mind felt like a clean slate for the time being, as your eyes opened to the bed next to you, sasha's figure vacant from her bed. you remembered asking for some space before you left but you thought she'd had return by now. it was dark, but it couldn't have been too late as orange rays from the sun were attempting to shine through your curtains, making you assume that it was just around seven, the sun setting soon. but you craved the warmness that was around you a little more, pulling down to reach for your blanket, until your body froze.

the hand wrapped around your waist, much like in the photographs engraved in your brain twitched and that same sickness felt like it was resurfacing yet you dared to move, tears brimming again subconsciously.

"eren," you mumbled under your breath.

"hm?" oh, so he was awake.

your face scrunched up in agony at the sound of his voice, your eyebrows coming together, your eyes shutting and you biting your lip so hard the taste of blood collected on your tongue. "please," your breathing began to thicken again, you wanted to move his arm but your body was almost stuck in place. "move."

eren groaned against your back, nose nuzzling into the back of your neck and you mentally cringed. "get out," you said abruptly, body jolting at the sudden movement and you felt him still behind you. how did he even get in? and then you immediately regretted making an spare dorm key and giving it to him only a couple months into your relationship. "get out, get out." you finally regained some self control, your body slithering from under his until your arm touched the floor and you crawled away from your own bed. "go, what are you doing?" you lashed, his gingerly stare making you aware of the tears cascading down your face again.

eren stared back at you finally lifting his head up from the spare pillow that he always slept with when he spent nights with you, the pillow that stayed tucked away on your bed and the same pillow that you'd have to wash and get rid of that stupid recognizable cologne he wore, the same cologne that would linger on most of his clothing that you owned. "_____,"

"no, leave, please leave, i can't do this."

eren seemed genuinely confused, sitting up completely now and scooting forward until his legs dangled off the bed. "baby, what's-"

you winced at the nickname and clutched at your stomach, feeling the emptiness inside from the lack of food, yet you still felt the urge to dispel anything inside of it still. "please leave." you almost felt lightheaded, you felt as if you weren't being heard and you were sick.

the significant sound of the dorm keycard slot beeping until sasha's figure came back in, "_____, i left the key hear but luckily i had a keyca-" her voice slowly died down as she studied the scene of the dorm, your body on the floor away from your bed and eren's figure sat on the same bed, both pair of eyes now looking up at her."

"what the hell?" sasha stormed over to eren grabbing his arm in a feeble attempt to pull him off of your bed. although she wasn't strong enough eren did stand up, mainly because of your pleas for him to get out just earlier. "get out! she doesn't want you here, weirdo!" sasha exclaimed pointing towards the door clear anger flashing in her eyes. "and don't just come in here uninvited again!"

those green eyes that would unknowingly keep you up for nights after today kept that confused gaze on you as he walked around you and made you feel stupid and small. we're you overreacting? were those pictures just your imagination?

"_____..." eren mumbled before looking at your frame on the floor once more.

“get out!” sasha exclaimed.

you weren't sure if he was just that dense or he was hiding the fact that he knew exactly what he did. the door shut and you immediately began crying again, this time harder. wails of pain escaping your throat. your cries were loud and full of pain. you clutched at your shirt as if to grasp at your broken heart.

"oh my gosh." sasha dropped her keycard and bag onto your bed where she still stood and got on the floor with you pulling you as much into her lap as possible. you felt fragile in your hands, her gripping at the sweatshirt around your body. she listened to your cries, responding with "i knows," and "mhm," as if they were telling her a story, simply listening to the aching noises that were leaving you.

"sasha," you finally mustered the courage to speak a few words again, although they resembled your words from yesterday. "i'm hurting."

"i know, i know."

"i loved him." you blinked so you could see a little clearer, lifting your head to look at sasha, bringing your hands to either side of her head, your thumbs stroking her jaw. "i thought he loved me? why? why?"

sasha couldn't bare to look at your sad, damaged eyes and instead pulled you back against her chest. although your sobs died down she could feel the convulsing of your body and opted to hold you for as long as you needed.

“does he even know what he did? does he even know how much pain i’m in right now?”

sasha couldn’t even answer that question. by the looks of it he didn’t, maybe he was high? under the influence? but either way you didn’t have the courage to confront him about it.

instead you spent the next couple of weeks sulking, mending to your broken heart and staying out of eren’s way, no matter how many times he tried to communicate with you. it seemed as if word got to him on what he did, sasha getting connie to talk to him, and as angry as eren got there was no denying what he did, especially with photo evidence.

your phone blew up with his own pleas begging for forgiveness, begging for you to talk to him, to come back, to do something.

but you were fragile, and you knew that even being in his vicinity would tear you apart bit by bit. you didn’t want to weep in front of him, you didn’t want to be in front of him in the first place, nor did you want his pity.

did you want to get back with him? the question still pondered on your mind constantly but both sasha and hitch refused to let you, and they were perfectly fine with the situation going unresolved if it meant better for you.

"so?" hitch pointed the straw of her frappucino at you. "i really think you just need to try exploring your options, just living a little. you can go to the next party with sasha and i, i promise we won't mind."

“hitch i want her to go to a party too but i don’t know about her getting with anyone.” sasha swirled the stick inside her latte to mix it up before sucking the liquid off the end.

now it had been a few months since you had seen eren, a few months since you began to heal yourself slowly compared to those first couple weeks. you had to really thank hitch and sasha for being there most of the way for you, and you had to especially thank netflix and sleep for being two of your greatest distractions.

you never officially broke up with eren, sure you saw him in the hallways (and you were certain he saw you as well) you had a couple lectures with him where the two of you would sneak glances at each other; which kind of reminded you of when the two of you first began liking the other. he never made an effort to speak to you after the first couple weeks when he would text your phone constantly, as much as it seemed like he wanted to still.

"i don't know hitch. i haven't even got rid of his stuff yet. they're still sitting in that stupid box in the corner of me and sasha's dorm." sasha nodded in confirmation taking a bite of her biscuit.

"but i don't think that box should stop you from getting out the house again. you haven't really been anywhere besides maybe target with sasha. plus i miss seeing you!"

you rolled your eyes with a slight chuckle. "you see me at least three times, especially when... you know, you came like everyday at first."

hitch shrugged her shoulders and then took another sip of her drink. "but do you think i can start seeing you more is the question? c'mon this is the first step towards a new life without that bastard."

you pondered on the thought before a small sigh escaped your lips, and you slowly nodded your head.

"really?" hitch exclaimed, her hands reaching across the table to grab yours. "you mean you won't mind coming to the party this saturday?"

you narrowed your eyes at hitch. "this was your plan wasn't it?"

"yes, yes it was. but there's no backing out now."

"yes, hitch, i'll come to the party this saturday." you decided that maybe this would help your healing heart in the least and you would try to push aside the boy that broke it for the couple hours just to spend time with your friends. but you couldn't help and wonder, "what if i bump into him at the party? or he tries to talk to me?"

sasha looked at hitch and hitch looked back before both turning their eyes to you. "we can be with you the whole time if that's the case."

"i wouldn't want to ruin your fun."

"babe, hanging out with you is one of the points of bringing you, ____." sasha smiled.

you internally twitched at the mention of the nickname ‘babe’ but neither one of your friends seemed to tell. you were getting better with reacting to things that reminded you of him, and you didn’t hysterically start crying at the slightest mention or object that related to him.

"we got you, okay?"

you frowned slightly but gave sasha a smile back and squeezed hitch's hand in the slightest. "yeah, okay."

this was the beginning of a new life for you, you wouldn’t spend your days sulking after him anymore. cheers to you and your first big step forward.

[butterbeerblurbs]

feeling heavy in the strongest arms (f.w.)

💌 : today, your heart felt exceptionally heavy. fred holds your heart gently in his hands, willing to keep you in his arms even if he doesn’t know why you feel that way. as long as it makes you feel a little bit better, that was all fred was willing to take.

📝 word count: 1,786 words / fred weasley x reader / 🌸 ☔️ pretty sad feels but somewhat comforting...? idek

💬: i just pictured, this could be one of the way fred could comfort y/n when she’s feeling upset and there’s no direct reasoning (also bc i see fred as someone who’s sensible to someone’s emotions, especially someone he’s infatuated with ;w;)

from the moment fred’s eyes landed on you in the great hall to start off his morning, something didn’t quite sit right. sure, you gave him the usual smile that sends the tingles down his spine and the burst of warmth gently combusts within when he’s able to spare you a kiss on your cheek as you take your spot next to him but... still, something’s not right.

“g’morning pretty lady,” fred tries the playful method and anticipates for the usual look of “fake” disgust. it doesn’t happen. instead he gets a small smile, a chuckle, even though he feels like that’s the last thing you want to be doing. 

“good morning, freddie,”

yet, fred doesn’t think it’s all that good.

he lets it slide, deciding not to bring it up in the morning when... maybe, just maybe, you didn’t sleep well? he’s hoping for that to be the case (because then it’s another excuse to take a nap together) but... no. when hermione asks if you slept well, you said you slept like a baby. you slept through angelina’s bloody snoring. that only meant you did sleep well.

if it’s not sleep then... hm... could it be-”oi, what are you doing? thinking about eating your own girlfriend for breakfast instead of what’s in front of you?”

fred turns to a mirror of himself, raising a brow with a smirk, “do you really want me to answer that, georgie?”

george gags and looks away, “merlin, you’re going to make me vomit out what i just ate,”

fred hears your voice laughing at what you’ve managed to hear between him and his twin. but when he glances back and locks eyes with you for a moment, he still doesn’t buy that everything’s alright.

//

said ginger boy is still confused as the day continues.

he’s had hours to ponder upon this and the more he observes from you, the more confused he gets. his answers doesn’t match up with the way you were acting (yes, he has been staring at you for a rather long time than doing actual work). it’s like... you were fine? but not really? fine to the eyes of the public, tip-top shape but... nothing about you gets past fred weasley.

absolutely nothing. not when he’s spent days upon months that gathered into the years of learning about you, still surprising himself how much he’s able to love you more each day.

this... this was new.

he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. he’ll continue thinking about it if it wasn’t for-”mr. weasley, maybe you’ll be able to produce something of worth if you actually did the work,” snape’s voice stiffen’s fred’s spine, and snape’s hand physically pushes the nape of his neck down to get to work.

he’ll get down to this soon enough... after potion’s, it seems.

//

surprisingly, fred manages to complete the task just in time for snape to barely let him scrape out of his classroom. fred anticipates he’ll have to rush after you as he collects his things but-”you alright, freddie?”

that voice makes him almost drop his book, missing his bag by an inch as he snaps his head towards the source of who that voice belonged to.

he gapes when you’re standing in front of him with a small smile, books to your chest and bag over your shoulder. you came to check up on him. even when it seems like the world has been unfairly cruel to you, you, still proved the world wrong with such kindness fred thinks you must be an actual angel.

“y-y/n,” he gapes, and that’s starting to-”you’re scaring me, freddie, are you alright?”

he runs his hand through his hair and stares at you, bewildered. however, he is thankful that the room is now empty as the remaining couple of students flutter out. “how?”

he hates how you look genuinely confused as your brows knit together, a pout forming whenever you felt unsure about something.

“h-how what?”

“how could you ask me that? how?” he shoves his book into his bag and leaves it on the stool, now both hands freely extending towards you to give you a gentle shake by your sides, “how can you ask me that when you’re the one not feeling okay?”

like a switch, fred watches as the facade you’ve been putting up all morning seems to crumble. he notices it starts with your breath hitching, which then slowly trails off to how your eyes appear sharp, suddenly blurry with the tell-tales of tears glassing over. fred could see himself frowning in them, and he absolutely hates the gut-wrenching feeling that swallows him whole.

even when you’re about to cry, there’s still a smile on your face.

“i-i can’t seem to hide anything from you, huh fred weasley?”

fred takes this moment to slip your books past your hands, nudging them onto the table. you allow your bag to slip from your shoulders as he tries to keep you close. and he doesn’t know if he’s doing that for your sake, or his.

“i... i feel heavy, freddie,” your voice barely makes it out to him, but it does. and each word is breaking his heart as he watches you try to explain your feelings that you weren’t completely sure of yourself. “it’s like... there’s a weight on my heart, pressing me down and i-”you lick your lips, tasting the saltiness trickling down you cheeks-”-i... feel so heavy, my heart feels so heavy,” you’re clutching onto the fabric of your robe directly above your heart, “it hurts so much, and i don’t even know why,” your voice is strained, stretched out across acres of trying to figure out why you feel like this but to no avail.

“i was feeling okay when i woke up this morning,” your lips are quivering at this point, sniffing as the tears can’t seem to stop, “why does it feel like my world has turned upside down all of a sudden?” fred knows you’re not asking him for the answer, rather, if there was a cruel higher up that was playing mind games with you, that was surely where your questions were directed to.

“i-i have everything, maybe not everything entirely but i should be happy,” you breathed in and out heavily, feeling your knees shaking, “and i am, genuinely am, but today,” fred doesn’t know since when you were out of breath, “m-my heart aches so much,”

fred flinches when you blink up to him, tears falling like your heart at the unexplainable weight that made its way without you noticing. he holds you tight, almost crushing you as he keeps you close to him like it’s the only thing he knows how to comfort you now. your hands don’t even make it around him, only going so far up to his waist to clutch onto the material of his robe hanging by his sides. he closes his eyes and gently strokes the back of your head, attempting to ease your sobs against his chest. he’ll willingly soak all of your tears, sadness, any ill feelings if he could. but knowing he can’t, if this could make you a little bit better or ease just a portion of the weight you were feeling, that’s as much as he’s grateful for.

it feels like an eternity ticked by but in reality it’s a mere ten minutes. your erratic breathing has calmed down from the nosedive of emotions you displayed that it’s starting to make you blush a little. fred only notices this when you’ve gone extremely quiet. he leans back just a little to peek at you, not only with red puffy eyes but also red cheeks.

“what’s the matter, love?” he asks softly, dipping down to get a glance at your eyes that seem too shy to meet with his now.

“i... i’m sorry, this was a lot to take in and... i just realised how much it was,” your tone was different this time. it registered to fred that... this was a tone he recognized. one of your hands remain holding to his robe, while the other reaching up to lightly punch his chest.

it may sound ridiculous but fred could hear yourself coming back. he could feel the aura around your changing.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry, y/n. you’re absolutely mad if you feel that now,” he raises a brow at you, “after all you just said? and cried? are you crazy?”

that makes you giggle - a genuine one, fred thinks - hands gingerly crawling around him to finally return the long-awaited hug.

“well... it’s... it’s not everyday you suddenly have to deal with your girlfriend bursting into tears and have no specific reason for it,” your voice is still raspy and sore from all the crying, but fred could pick out the syllables that gesture to him sonically that you were feeling better.

“i’d gladly take all of that in if it means i’m helping you overcome it,” he proudly puffs his chest out with that grin on his face but it also makes your heart swell at how much love you could feel he’s pouring just from the way he’s staring at you.

“thank you, freddie,” you lean forward to tuck yourself into his embrace, cheek against his chest. you can hear him smile as he squeezes you, then sway your bodies idly as he hums back, “don’t need to thank me, love,”

as the pair of you stay like that in silence (only for a few more minutes before you’d have to hurry along for the day), it’s like there’s an understanding that fred can’t possibly lift the weight up entirely for you. these were your emotions, after all.

but that doesn’t mean fred can’t stay with you as you get through them.

hand in hand, chest to chest.

((”promise if you want to cry, you’ll come to me? or at least, come see me after?” fred didn’t give you room to answer as he squishes your cheeks, towering over you with concerned eyes even though you're laughing, “yes, love? is that a yes? if you’re laughing like a goddess sent from above, i’ll take that as a yes!”

he was having a bit of trouble trying to push your cheeks together when you were grinning so wide, it’s making his heart do somersaults. not even the groaning of people at the common room could divert him away. (the both of you were, afterall, just mere steps away from them when you’re just by the stairs)

“yes, freddie, promise.”

“atta girl.” he winks, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he watches you go up to your room.))

[sevlgi]

bubblegum pop

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: sana x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: rich girl!sana, college!au, cashier!reader.

warnings: none

synopsis: An unfortunately hostile encounter with the school’s sweetest rich girl might just lead to more than you ever expected.

a/n: inspired by @pearicot​‘s mean girl rosie series! (by the way, i’m not trying to feed into the “dumb sana” stereotype with this; i just thought that her personality fitted the character i was trying to achieve! does anyone wanna request continuations or scenarios in this universe 👀

word count: 3.3k

Something about Mondays the week of finals always got you in a bad mood, especially when you had  to work double shifts at the same stupid ice cream shop you’d worked at for the past 2 years of college. 

So maybe, just maybe, there was reasoning behind you snapping at the love of your life during your first meeting.

Actually, there really, really wasn’t.

There were plenty of mean girls on campus who you wouldn’t regret yelling at whatsoever, but you just happened to blow up at one of the considerably nicer rich girls.

Minatozaki Sana didn’t mean anything bad when she innocently held out a hundred dollar bill to pay for a $5 ice cream. She didn’t mean to seem pretentious, nor did she mean to mock you and your minimum-wage job, but you just so happened to take it that way.

“Really? You have to rub it in my face like that?”

Sana stared at you, the money that she held out wavering in the ear. “Sorry?”

Pinching the space between your eyebrows, you huffed out an exasperated breath. Luckily, there was no one else in the shop about to witness the stupidest meltdown of your life. “You think I don’t know that I’m poor? It’s five dollars for God’s sake, no need to bring out the big guns. Oh, or are you doing this to avoid seeming more pretentious with your daddy’s black card?”

The brunette’s hand retreated quickly, the heels of her Louboutins clacking softly against the pastel-toned linoleum of the ice cream shop. Fuck, you hated that linoleum. “I... I didn’t mean any of that, I swear! Um, is there an ATM near here?”

Once again, the girl meant well, and you took it badly. You scoffed, glaring disbelievingly at her. Some part of you was screaming out that you were putting your entire job at stake, and your morals as well, but you disregarded any common sense remaining in your brain. “An ATM for 5 bucks? Dude, just don’t.” Dipping your hand into the tip jar, you scrounged out a lousy crumpled bill and threw it down on the counter, shoving the bubblegum-flavored sweet to Sana. “Okay? Now get out, I don’t want to see your privileged ass anywhere near here.”

The dense gray clouding your mind somehow missed the hurt expression on the girl’s face as the staff door swung open. Wendy’s hands, though gentle on your shoulders, shoved you behind her with surprising force. “I am so sorry, Sana, it’s finals week. Surely you can understand? The ice cream’s on the house.”

“No, of course it’s okay!” Sana sounded genuine enough, that was for sure; you caught her glancing worriedly at you a couple times, nothing malicious whatsoever in her eyes. “I can pay though, are you sure?”

“I’m sure. See you in class,” Wendy called out, smiling all the while until the girl disappeared into the Lamborghini parked by the curb. As soon as that happened, she turned back to you, concern tugging at the corner of her lips. “Y/N...”

“Yeah, I know,” you mumbled as you crossed your arms. Already, you were regretting what you said, though you were far too stubborn to actually apologize on the spot. “No arguing with customers about capitalism. Sorry, Wendy.”

The girl bit her lip, scanning the store to make sure that there wasn’t about to be an influx of customers. Usually she enjoyed working with you; you just had absolutely terrible mood swings sometimes, and those days were nothing short of hellish for her to deal with. “Just head home. Focus on your finals, and come back next week. Okay?”

You hesitated to agree, knowing that you needed the money, but the grim expression on Wendy’s face told you that you had no other option. “Okay. Sorry.”

As you snatched up your stuff and shoved the door to the street open, you missed the sight of Sana watching you through the tinted windows of her 6-figure car.

“Really? Sana?”

“I know,” you groaned, biting down on the plastic spoon in your mouth. The flavor of the month (the only one you could eat completely free) lingered unpleasantly on your tongue, the taste of it oddly salty. “She was so nice about it, too.”

Jeongyeon and Mina exchanged glances, not touching their respective cups of “Ocean Caramel” either. It was extremely kind of them to come and accompany you on the slow days, both of them even offering to suffer through the gross ice cream with you.  “If it was Park Roseanne I might understand, but Sana,” Mina winced. Jeongyeon nodded in agreement; after all, everyone on campus knew about the reputations of Roseanne and Sana.

On one end of the “rich girl” spectrum, Roseanne was quite possibly the bitchiest one of all. She and her Bugatti Veyron, the college upgrade from her old McLaren, absolutely weren’t to be messed with. People who went to high school with you often told story of the G Wagon she smashed, the locker room she lit on fire, and so many other horror tales of a spoiled girl gone wild. You were sure that had you gone off on her, even Wendy wouldn’t have stopped you.

But on the other end, Sana was notoriously kind. Sure, her family raked in an income close to that of the other girl’s, and her wardrobe was just as expensive, but she made a point to donate to charities every time she went shopping. She tipped in the hundreds, and she didn’t ever ask for her designer clothes back when she lent them to strangers. She paid any dinner bill in full when she was there, and sometimes even when she wasn’t invited.

No one was entirely sure about the relationship between the two, but Roseanne seemed to hate Sana more than she did other people. The two fought publicly occasionally, but Sana’s kind heart made it so that even Roseanne couldn’t carry a fight very long. She didn’t respond to insults, it seemed, nor did she ever seem to actually take them personally. 

Stirring her half-melted soup, Mina continued, “Hopefully she doesn’t hold it against you. She doesn’t seem like the type, but...”

Jeongyeon shook her head, opening her mouth just as the doorbell rang. You froze when you looked up to find a designer-dressed bombshell, a sweet smile outlined in Chanel Rouge Allure. She looked completely out of place amidst tired college kids spending their last paycheck on ice cream, white gauzy sleeves and blue dress shimmering under LED lights. If you were being honest, you’d say that she was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life, but you were always well versed in lying to yourself. “Y/N, you better go.”

“Why?” you whined, pouting at your much more responsible friends. They ignored your puppy face, though; Jihyo was usually the only one you could sway, Momo sometimes if she was feeling merciful. “I’m on break.”

“Only when there’s no customers,” Mina argued, shoving you to stand. Jeongyeon smiled at you, waving you away. “Go, and don’t screw it up this time.”

You forced a smile onto your face when you reached the counter, bowing and adjusting your name tag. “Hi, what can I help you with today?”

“Hi, Y/N!” Sana grinned, bowing back. The fact that she remembered your name only made your guilt worse; if she forgot who you were, you could at least pretend that she didn’t remember the incident at all. “Ah, could I have the same thing as last time? Bubblegum Pop ice cream, on a sugar cone today. 3 scoops?”

Nodding, you moved to open the case, avoiding the girl’s gaze as you did. “Of course.” She was quiet at that, staring at the ceiling so as not to rush you. Without prompting, you blurted, “I’m... I’m really sorry about last week, by the way. I don’t know what I was thinking, blowing up at you like that.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay!” she protested, waving a manicured hand in the air. “I promise I understand you. We all have our bad days.”

You wanted to apologize again, if just to assuage your guilt, but you held off on it, joking, “How do you deal with them? Yell at Gucci assistants?”

Sana looked honestly offended as she accepted the cone proffered to her, eyes widening in shock. “I’ve never done that, I swear! Besides, I don’t like Gucci much.”

A light smile quirking at the corners of your lips, you handed the receipt to her as well. She didn’t ask for it, probably not caring about the measly price or having the space for it in her tiny bag, but took it anyway. “I’m sure you don’t. Your total is $5.23, will that be cash or card?”

“Cash!” She held out a 10 dollar bill, pride shining behind that gorgeous face as you raised your eyebrows in surprise. When your hands brush together, you were reminded of how much better she was than you, how you probably weren’t worthy at all to be touching her with your shop-issued baseball cap and grimy apron. But Sana doesn’t seem to mind, still smiling that airy smile at you and not moving away. She broke your stare by offering, “I don’t want to sound rude, but keep the change.”

“Not rude at all,” you fully laughed that time, dishing out the remainder to stuff in your tip jar. You still felt terrible that she felt the need to apologize about such a normal comment, asking, “Are you sure it’s okay? You can have this one free too, if it makes up for me shouting at you...”

Sana shook her head, sugary light pink already mixing into her lipstick. She walked away, still waving with that gorgeous smile on her face. “It’s okay. I’ll see you soon, Y/N, you look really pretty today!”

Turning back to your friends, you whispered, “Damn. She’s really nice.”

You planned on spending your one day off from school and work cozied up with a good book and your favorite hot drink, but you supposed that getting into a fight with Park Roseanne wasn’t the worst way to go either.

As soon as you entered campus, book in hand and blasting music in your earbuds, you found a crowd of at least 3 dozen people right in front of the library building. It was unlike you to butt into others’ business, especially when it might lead to a ruined day, but Roseanne’s voice carried loud over the hushed whispers of everyone else. “--huh, Sana?”

It wasn’t any of your business, but for some reason, Roseanne’s tone when saying Sana’s name angered you immensely. Frowning, you shouldered your way through the crowd. The closer you got to the center, the more expensive the clothing that brushed against your own rough jean jacket was, cotton and leather becoming silk and velvet. You originally planned to just fit in with the other spectators, but with a shove at the small of your back, you were thrust into the center too.

To your shock, Sana’s eyes were red and shining with tears, the tip of her nose cherry-colored as well. Her head was almost bowed as she stared at her shoes, but she looked up to you when you almost bumped into her. You stuttered out, “H-hey. What’s going on?”

Instead of an explanation from the Japanese girl, though, your gaze was drawn to the blonde across the courtyard. “Didn’t you hear? Little Miss Perfect here got broken up with,” Roseanne scoffed, an infuriating smirk on her perfect face as she tilted her head at you. “By a future CEO, no less. I guess she isn’t a gold-digger, or maybe there’s some other reason that he didn’t want her anymore.”

Your hand shot out to protect Sana, a scowl making its way onto your own face. “Excuse me? From my standpoint, any future CEO is still way outta her league, so forgive me for doubting that he’s the one who didn’t want her. You’re the one dating someone who makes a tenth of what you do.”

Roseanne rolled her eyes, lips thinning. “Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that, Y/L/N, or you’ve got another thing coming. There aren’t many lesbians in this damn school.”

“You know me, don’t you?” Sana’s voice was wavering as she spoke, but it was strong enough to echo in the courtyard. To your surprise (and somewhat satisfaction), the blonde  girl’s eyes widened as Sana stood forward, her lips jutting forward. “That’s why I’m not dating him anymore. I like girls, too.”

Somehow, you’d never expected that Sana was attracted to girls, but it made perfect sense. An irrational part of you wanted to cheer, but instead, you forced yourself to speak.

“R-right.” You continued to glare at Roseanne, who finally seemed to be speechless. “Yeah, so how come you’re tearing Sana down? We should be supporting each other, but you’re being so rude to someone so kind, and that says all I need to know about you.”

Reaching out, you latched onto Sana’s upper arm and pulled her out of the circle, people parting to let the two of you through as Roseanne wasn’t able to conjure up something to respond with. You didn’t stop walking until there was only silence surrounding you under the shade of a swaying tree, finally stopping to let the girl sit. “Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowed as you knelt to be mostly face-level with her.

Somehow, there was a smile on her face; a slightly snotty smile, but nonetheless the most beautiful one you’d ever seen in your life. You ignored the uncomfortable leap of your heart when you reached out to take her hands into your own, somehow forgetting about the hostility you’d felt towards her from the beginning. “You- you stood up for me.”

“Yeah. I did, I guess,” you shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’m sure that was rough, though, to come out. How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly, much better,” Sana sighed. She leaned back, fingers curling slightly around yours as the afternoon sun shone golden brown in the locks of hair spread out on her shoulders. “It was good to get it off my chest. I didn’t even know you were into girls, you know.”

Reaching up to scratch your head, you chuckled, “Well, I am, if it makes you feel any better. What happened between the two of you, by the way? She seems to hate you so much.”

The girl laughed, as bubbly and airy as her regular voice. “I may or may not have dated her girlfriend before. But it was a long time ago, and I’m still friends with her! Roseanne just can’t forgive me.”

You feigned shock, swatting at her arm. “How terrible of you! I’m so disappointed.”

You were stuck simply smiling at each other for a good minute or so before you looked away, picking at your shoelace for something to do. “So. Uh, Roseanne knew the whole time?”

“She did,” Sana confirmed, nodding. “She just never talked about it.”

“Well, it’s good to know that she isn’t the only other one in the school with me,” you sighed, sitting back on your heels.

Sana lurched back forward, hands clasping together at her chest. “Then we should celebrate! We can go shopping or something, and we can just be happy that we aren’t alone anymore.”

It suddenly struck you how quickly you could change the girl’s entire outlook, a smile coming onto her face with no effort from you whatsoever. But even more surprising, you smiled even larger than she did just looking at her. 

Laughing, you sat back on your heels and shook your head lightly. Seeming to take it as a rejection, Sana’s eyes widened. “Oh, only if you want to, of course! We can go wherever you want, we don’t even have to go shopping if you don’t want to!”

“No, we can go shopping,” you answered, reaching back over to squeeze her hand and pulling her up with you when you stood. “Come on, then. Let’s go celebrate.”

Sana wasn’t a great driver, but you didn’t expect much else. You were practically sick to your stomach by the time that you reached the mall, face green as you swayed out of the car.

“Ah, Y/N, I’m sorry!” Her hands rubbed lightly at your back as you squatted in the parking lot, fist held tight to your mouth. It wasn’t like you were actually going to throw up, but you didn’t want to risk ruining the girl’s expensive shoes. “I’ll let you drive next time.”

Next time? you wanted to ask. But you managed to stand, nodding quickly to ease Sana’s worry. “Yeah. It’s fine, I’m fine. Should we go?”

Immediately, she latched onto your hand, swinging between the two of you as she started to rush forward. “H-hey, lock your car first!”

Sana had unsurprisingly expensive tastes, but also surprisingly understated ones. She was fun to shop with, that was for sure- she loved to offer you clothes and also to offer to pay for them, but you didn’t necessarily hate a pretty girl telling you you’d look gorgeous in a certain sparkly dress.

She didn’t do any of the typical stuck-up things you expected her to- Sana carried her own bags, and she never forced you to follow her instead of doing what you wanted to. She did like to try on outfits and show them to you, but that could be ignored when it was just another opportunity for you to stare at her.

Eventually, you ended up having ice cream at one of the stores in the mall. You balked at the price, but Sana swiped her credit card without hesitation. “I have to admit, this bubblegum doesn’t taste as good as yours,” she pouted.

Chuckling, you savored the rich flavor on your own tongue. “You should’ve picked an expensive flavor then. Vanilla and chocolate are always good in these kinds of stores.”

“You know a lot about ‘these kinds of stores’ for someone who claims to be poor,” she teased, eyes widening as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“Nah, it’s fine,” you smiled, leaning on your palm. “I’m good with it, since we’re friends now.”

Sana grinned at that, her eyes curving charmingly. “We’re friends? Most people don’t want to be friends with me, I’m really glad you’re willing to.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

Looking down for once, the girl mumbled, “They say I’m dumb. You know that everyone says I’m nice, but they also think I’m dumb because I pay for everything. I just want to be kind, but no one takes me seriously.”

A wave of guilt rushed over you for previously feeding into the stereotype. The more time you spent with Sana, the more you realized that she was as brilliant as any other, and far more kind. “Well, that’s stupid. You are kind, Sana, and you’re amazing. I’m lucky to be your friend.”

She clasped your hand over the table, soft skin warm over yours, pink flushing in her pale cheeks. “Thank you, Y/N. You know, this is the best time I’ve had in a while. My boyfriend didn’t even listen to me this well,” she laughed.

Despite the fact that she treated it as a joke, you felt horrible. She was all too used to thinking the worst about herself and not believing that she was worth any better, and that was the worst possible thing you could imagine for a girl with a heart of gold. Jabbing your spoon into the remaining ice cream, you blurted, “Then go on a date with me. A proper one, not just a normal hangout like this.”

Sana instantly blushed, looking down as if it’d hide her face at all. But she missed the heat that rose to your cheeks too, the nervous biting of your lip as you waited for a response. “I would love nothing more,” she smiled, her eyes shining brilliantly. “And I can’t wait.”

[wtfevenismypage]

Tiny

request: request ! (spencer reid obvs) y/n is really small (short and skinny) and the team always teases her for it and she’s tried to explain “ that kinda hurts my feelings” but they don’t pick up on that, so one day she just explodes and shouts “ STOP IM NOT AN ART MUSEUM” and they just laugh so she starts BAWLING and they’re like oh shit she was serious

Warnings: The team being assholes, sad reader, angry Spencer (and Penelope), and cursing

A/N: yo i don’t know how to write like I’m tiny and skinny, I am super short though, standing at a solid 5′1 for the rest of my life with a slim chance of growing an inch or two. However I stand in the middle ground when it comes to “Width” Size, leaning a little more towards fat instead of skinny. but i tried for you my dear.

“Hey Tinkerbell. You comin’ to the roundtable anytime soon?”

You groaned at his nickname, and to think, you were actually feeling cute this morning, but then Morgan had to pull out that old nickname. You had tried to tell the team countless times before that you didn’t like your size being pointed out, but they never seem to listen.

“Morgan, how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?” 

He only chuckles as the two of you begin walking to the conference room, sitting down with everyone else. You sat next to Spencer. who was, along with Penelope,  the only person not to pick on your size.

“Morning Spence.”

“Good morning Y/N.”

He replies, smiling gently to you while Hotch enters. 

“Alright team we have five dead ten year old girls. M.O is strangulation. Bruises show with hands but no prints.”

“So he used gloves.”

“Actually it’s more than likely a she, look at the size of the marks. Women hands are significantly smaller than a males and this looks to be done with a lot of emotion. Women serial killers tend to kill with emotion rather than their opposite sex counterpart which kill with lust or a sexual craving.”

“He’s right.”

“Hey why don’t we send Y/N in as bait. She could honestly pull it off easily.”

You send Emily a glare, hating having to listen to the laughs of the others. Spencer remains silent, eyes boring into Hotch’s who is stifling a laugh to continue on.

“Emily there are five little girls who are dead. Is right now really the right time for you to make fun of my size?”

You snap unexpectedly. Usually you were gentle, calm, but you were already put on edge today. You weren’t taking their shit anymore.

Emily stared at you confused,obviously not expecting you to snap like that.

“Hey, what-”

“I’m sorry I just don’t know how many times I have to tell you all I’m not a fucking art museum or some shit like that!”

You yell. A hand lands on yours, Gently squeezing it to attempt to calm you down.

But what they do next just flat out hurts. There’s no words for the pain.

They laugh. They break out in laughter at your pain. At your insecurities. At your worries.

You can’t stop the tears that drip out of your eyes, leaving a salty taste in your mouth. This is your family, your home, the people you trust with your life. And they laugh at you? You stand up, hands clenching by your side which draws all of their attention to you.

“Since you guys are going to be assholes, I’ll stay here and help Garcia out. Brief me when you stop being insensitive.”

You say, voice breaking as you storm out of the room. You couldn’t handle the pain that was in your heart, it was heavy, It was aching. Meanwhile Spencer and Penelope were furious. 

“What the hell guys? Did you seriously just laugh at her? When will you guys pay attention to the fact that she doesn’t like your joking.”

“For a team of profilers you guys are ignorant as hell!”

They shout. Spencer watches through the glass as you storm into the gender neutral bathroom,  tears trailing down your scrunched up face.

“Go after her Reid. I’ve got them.”

As soon as Penelope says that he’s hot on your trail, storming into the bathroom and stopping as soon as he sees you, standing in front of a shattered mirror, your bloody fists threaded in your hair.

Your tears were leaving wet trails down your cheeks and neck, soft and quiet sobs breaking out off your throat. It hurt his heart to look at. He honestly thought you were beautiful, no matter how tiny you were, you were beautiful. 

“Hey, Why’d you do that, now you can’t see your pretty self.”

He whined, walking closer to you as you chuckled sadly, turning to him and smiling genuinely. Spencer always tried to lift up your spirits and boost your confidence any chance he had.

“You don’t gotta do that Spencer, I’m used to their jokes, you don’t have to try and make me feel better.”

You said, watching as he scoots closer and  pulls you in front of another mirror, turning you to look into it. He stood at his normal height, knowing that leaning down to yours would only annoy you.

“Look at you, even crying you’re still pretty. I don’t understand how you do it bubba.”

He noticed your eyebrows scrunching together, eyes travelling your body. You were only taking in your (nonexistent) flaws of yourself. He spun you around so you were facing him, taking your tiny hands into his large ones and kissing the cuts.

“Hmmm. I think you’re beautiful. So do the others, they just don’t know when to stop joking around. Penelope’s telling them off as we speak.”

He smiles, watching as you giggle at the image of Penelope yelling at the team. 

“I’d hate to be them.”

You say, leaning your head against his lower chest. Spencer was always more comfortable touching you than with the others. His phobia just seemed to disappear when he was with you.

“I’m too small. You look like a giant next to me.”

“I look like a giant next to everyone. Now come on. Let’s clean these cuts, we have a case to do.”

You let out a laugh, letting Spencer wipe away your tears as you stare deep into his shimmering brown eyes. He was worried, you could tell by a single glance. He was always protective of you, never stopped you from field jobs that seemed dangerous, but he made sure to go with and stay nearby.

“I missed your smile. Haven’t seen it all day bubba.”

He holds a hand to your cheek, letting you nuzzle into its warmth. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He wouldn’t reveal his feelings yet, not now. Right now you had a job to do and a long list of apologies to listen to.

And boy were they sorry.

PERMANENT TAGLIST(OPEN) @pinkdiamond1016 @spencer-reids-snow-white @sheepfather @eusuntgroot @libradolan @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal

[thesightstoshowyou]

Bo Sinclair x F Reader (NSFW)

           Summary: Bo wants you to pitch in a little more. He gets more than he bargained for.

             Warnings: Dubcon, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, slapping, degradation, facial, swearing, objectification of reader, alcohol use, mentions of death and violence.

 ~~

             “Put this on.”

             You drop the rag in your hands to catch the yellow floral dress before it smacks you in the face. You glare up at Bo from you spot on the linoleum. Your knees ache. You’d been scrubbing grime off the kitchen floor for two hours.

             “What for?” you ask, bracing a hand against the counter to heave yourself to your feet.

             “It’s time you start pullin’ your weight.” You look around you, flabbergasted. What had you been doing all this time, if not ‘pullin’ your weight?’ Cooking and cleaning all day, every day wasn’t enough for him?

             You keep your mouth shut. The answer is obvious. Of course, it isn’t enough. Nothing would be. If it was up to Bo, you would have been dead the first day you walked into this God-forsaken town.

             “Can I at least know what I’m supposed to do? You know, so I do it right?” You adopt a sweeter tone, hoping to quell the sour mood Bo always seemed to be in when he spoke with you.

             “Two college assholes campin’ nearby.” Bo adjusts his hat and crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame before continuing, “They’ll be needin’ a fan belt. Lester is on his way to get ‘em. Need you to bring one up to the house for Vincent while I take care of the other one.”

             What is it with Bo and fan belts?

             Then, the gravity of what he’s said hits you. Instantly, you pale. They’ve never had you participate before. You can’t do it, no way.

             “Bo—

             “You’ll do this, or I’ll make sure the next one on Vincent’s table is you. Got it?” He snarls, leaning forward and shoving a finger in your face. You clench your jaw, hesitantly nodding. What choice do you have?

             “Make yerself decent and meet me at the shop in a half.”

**

             You understand why Bo chose this dress. It’s tight, flaring out at the hips and hanging just halfway down your thighs. Your breasts are almost spilling out the top too. It shouldn’t be hard to lure a ‘college asshole’ up to the house looking the way you do now. You wonder which poor soul wore this dress before they ended up in the museum.

             You think you might be sick.

             As you walk to the shop, the oppressive Louisiana heat beats down on you, making you squint and pant. Sweat beads along your forehead and chest before spilling into your cleavage. You adjust your outfit, hoping to hide a little more skin. You feel exposed. The old wax woman across the street peers disapprovingly out her window. You flip her the bird. Poor old bitch.

             You round the corner to the little gas station, heart hammering. Lester’s truck isn’t there, but you can see three shadows inside the darkened shop window. You fluff up your hair, sucking in a huge breath. You can do this. You have to do this. You don’t have a choice.

             “Hey, Bo, need anything?” You adopt a honeyed southern accent, resting your hands on your hips, your face breaking into a smile. You hope it looks genuine.

             The three men inside turn to look at you. All three are apparently struck dumb by the sight of you. As you lock eyes with Bo, you fight the blush creeping up your neck. Baby blues rake over your body before snapping back to your face. He grins.

             “Hey, sis. Just in time.”

             Sis, huh?

             “These boys need a V-belt. I don’t see any here. You remember if we have any up at the house?”

             “Yeah, we just got some in today,” you chirp, reaching behind you to pull your hair off your dewy neck.

             “Would you mind takin’ one of these two up to the house to get it? I ought to go over cost of repairs here.”

             “Can do.”

             “Dibs!” shouts one of the boys, a tall, lanky thing wearing the stupidest sleeveless shirt you’ve ever seen. ‘Party with Sluts’ it reads. Okay, maybe this won’t be so hard. His friend punches him in the arm and he laughs before sauntering over to you, motioning for you to lead the way.

             “Hey, behave yerself. That’s my lil’ sister.” If you didn’t know Bo, you’d think he was teasing, messing with the kid, but the smirk curling across his face tells you he’s dead serious. No part of that smile reaches his eyes. You do not envy the kid you’re leaving here with him.

             “Bo! Knock it off,” you giggle, pretending to be embarrassed.

             If you were to look back on the conversation you had with the nameless guy you’re leading to his death, you wouldn’t remember a word of it. Your blood rushes too loudly in your ears to hear half of what he’s saying. You just giggle and play with your hair every time he speaks. It seems to be working.

             “Uh, kay, wait here, I’ll just run upstairs and get the belt,” you say a little too loud so Vincent can hear. You leave him at the bottom of the stairs, careful to accentuate the sway of your hips as you climb the steps so he’s distracted.

             Vincent wastes no time. As soon as you make it to the top, you hear a strangled shout, a heavy thud, then nothing. You don’t turn around.

             The second you make it to your room you peel the dress off your sticky skin and hurl it across the room. Desperately, you fight the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and the burn in your throat. You had to. You had to. You can’t die yet, not after everything you’ve been through.

**

             You carefully level off a cup of flour before tipping it into a bowl on the counter. You do the same with the baking powder, salt, baking soda….

             It’s three something in the morning. You haven’t been able to sleep all night. So, you do what you always do when you can’t sleep: You bake cookies.

             You gather up the butter wrappings and head for the trash can. As you move, you catch something out of the corner of your eye and jump in shock, gasping and bracing a hand against your chest.

             Bo leans against the doorway, beer in hand, mechanic suit half off and tied around his waist. He chuckles quietly when you grasp the counter and take a deep breath to steady your racing heart.

             “You scared the shit out of me,” you chide, tossing the wrappings into the garbage. You glance down, noticing your bare legs. Right. You’re only wearing a pair of panties and one of Vincent’s flannels. You didn’t think anyone else would be awake at this hour. Three AM usually found Bo passed out, Lester camping somewhere in his truck, and Vincent toiling away in the basement.  

             “I’ll go put some pants on,” you mumble, moving to leave the kitchen, but Bo extends his arm across the doorway to block your exit.

             “Nah. You look good in my shirt,” he comments, mouth quirking up at the corner in that stupid self-satisfied smirk he always wears. You glance down at the red and black checkered flannel, then back to Bo again.

             “I thought it was Vincent’s. I must have got it mixed up in the wash.” You swallow, looking away. You don’t like how he’s looking at you, like a wolf eyeing an injured lamb. He sets his beer on the top of the fridge.

             “No harm, no foul,” he murmurs, dropping the arm from the doorway to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. You jerk out of his reach, backing away. He follows leisurely, pressuring you until you’re backed up against the counter. He doesn’t stop advancing until his face is inches from yours.

             “Bo,” you mutter, a shaky breath leaving your mouth with his name. You say it like a plea.

             “Yeah?” he purrs, placing both hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He leans in closer, so close you can smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath.

             “Please,” you whisper, voice trembling. He groans quietly under his breath at that.

             “Hmm, say that again, darlin’.” You shake your head, tensing when he reaches up to glide his fingers, feather light, across your jaw. He continues, “I didn’t like the way those fuckers were lookin’ at you today. Not. One. Bit.” He taps you on the nose in time with the last three words.

             “Well, they’re dead now, so….” You trail off, your hammering heart trying to force its way into your throat.

             “Mmm hmm,” he hums, “You did good today, baby. Real good.” You swallow, face heating up, a jolt of arousal sparking between your legs. His voice, the fingers stroking along your collarbone, his words; they’re having an effect on you.

             “Bo,” you beg again, more insistent this time.

             “You don’t like this?” he asks, stepping forward so you’re pressed flush against him. The heat of his body is overwhelming.

             “N-no, please, s—

             Your plea is cut off by the gasp that sneaks from your throat when Bo shoves his hand into your underwear and drags his fingers along your dripping slit. He brings them in front of your face, showing you how your slick shines in the low light of the kitchen.

             “I think you’re a fuckin’ liar,” he purrs, grinning wider, “Open your mouth.” You bite your lip and Bo strikes, gripping your jaw hard. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart. You won’t like it.”

             Slowly, you part your lips, opening wider when he shoves his wet fingers in your mouth.

             “Clean ‘em off. That’s a good girl.” You roll his fingers and your own salty taste around on your tongue, sucking on them when he demands it. That pulls another low groan from him.

             “I knew that mouth was good for somethin’.” He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them back into your panties. You inhale sharply and bite your lip again when his deft fingers find your clit, circling slowly, torturously.

             “Fuck, you’re wet, baby girl.” The words are whispered against your lips, his warm breath washing over your face. You let out a shaky breath, forcing your hips to stay still and not buck like you want. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

             Bo chuckles against your mouth before dragging your underwear down your legs, kneeling as he goes. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder. Vincent could walk in any minute, or Lester, you’re right there in the open—

             Bo dives in, sucking your clit into his mouth and humming. All your thoughts derail, crash, and burn. Your eyes roll back and you grip the edge of the counter with one hand, the other flying to your mouth to muffle your wanton moan.

             He laughs, dragging his tongue up your slit and lapping at your clit, slow, deliberate licks with the flat of his tongue. You can’t help it this time; you grind your hips into his mouth and he grabs a handful of your ass to pull you closer. He slips two fingers into your sopping cunt, curling them and making you whine pathetically. Jesus Christ, you’re already close.

             “Bo, Bo, Bo, I’m…I’m gonna—

             And then he pulls away. Your frustrated gasp is silenced when Bo slaps the inside of your thigh, hard. It makes you yelp and try to squirm away. He stands and grabs your jaw roughly, squeezing painfully.

             “Uh uh, I don’t fucking think so. Yer gonna cum on my cock and nowhere else, understand?” You nod, skin feeling like it’s on fire. You haven’t been touched like this for six fucking months. You worry you’re going to be consumed by need. You’ll say anything he wants.

             “Oh, ya’ want that now? You want me to fuck ya’?” His lips are wet, shining with your juices, and inches from yours again. He grinds his hard, clothed length against your hip.  

             “Yes,” you slur. It’s hard to talk with his hand squeezing your face so hard.

             “You forget your manners, sweetheart?”

             “Please, Bo, please,” you beg, resisting the urge to jerk your head out of his punishing grip.

             “Good girl,” he praises, spinning you around and bending you over the counter. He tugs your arms behind your back, gripping your forearms with one hand while he frees his cock with the other. It slaps against your ass, hard and heavy.

             In one, smooth motion, he lines up with your entrance and slams home, impaling you. You shriek behind grit teeth. Your walls spasm around the sudden intrusion and you wiggle your hips in an attempt to adjust to the stretch.

             “Ohhh fuck, that’s tight,” he growls in your ear, giving you no time to catch your breath before he’s ramming into you. The wet smack of skin against skin echoes around the kitchen. Every thrust pulls a strangled moan or whimper from your throat as you desperately try to contain your sounds of pleasure and pain. Bo laughs cruelly, hot breath puffing against your ear.

             “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t want anyone hearing you get fucked?” He punctuates the last word with a particularly vicious thrust. You mewl, and Bo wraps his free hand around your throat, pulling until you arch uncomfortably.

             Despite the mean treatment, Bo still manages to push you to the brink of orgasm again, his cock battering that perfect spot within you. You can’t speak well at this angle and with his hand tight around your throat, but he feels you beginning to clench around him, feels your legs trembling violently.

             “Yeah, cum on my cock, sweetheart, c’mon, give it to me, fuck yes, yes, yes—

             You bite your lip so hard you taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue. Hot pleasure curls through your core, numbing you as you tumble over the edge into bliss. Bo groans in your ear, releasing your neck in favor of digging his nails into your hip.

             “’M gonna cum. Yer gonna—f-fuck—gonna get down on your knees and open that pretty mouth, understand?” Dazed, you nod. Bo pulls out and as you turn around, he shoves you down to your knees so hard they crack against the linoleum. Your pained grunt is interrupted when Bo fists a hand in your hair, yanking your head back.

             “Open yer mouth, stick out yer tongue, yeah, fuck—

             His voice is tense, clipped, his hand pumping his slick cock. He utters a broken moan and you snap your eyes shut as he paints your face, lips, and tongue white.

             “Swallow,” he orders breathlessly. You do as your told, forcing the bitter taste of him down your throat. He hums in approval, releasing your hair. You wipe your face on your sleeve and crack your eyes open to peer up at Bo. His cheeks are flushed pink, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead, chest heaving.

             “Goddamn, you look good like that,” he says, mouth turning up in a crooked grin. After tucking himself away, he helps you to your feet and grabs a nearby washrag to blot away the cum staining your skin. Your legs wobble, your crimson cheeks growing redder the longer he grins at you. Bo smooths your hair back, tucking it neatly behind your ears.

             “There. Good as new.” He swats you on the ass, making you jump in surprise. “Now get to bed. I expect breakfast in the morning, as usual.”  

             What a bastard.

[niksixx]

Plus One

FINALLY!!! After a few months’ hiatus, I am proud to announce the ending of Plus One. It has been a pleasure writing this for you. Please enjoy part 7, and don’t forget to leave feedback. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pia’s POV

I take one look at Josh and Jackie, and I can feel the love on every level. It’s the kind of love that can make you shake with envy and question whether everyone can find it.

And when they kiss for the first time as husband and wife, the church erupts into applause from the guests, hoots and hollers from the wedding party. There’s a few tears sliding down the apples of my cheeks and before I can flick them away with my finger, I feel the gentle touch and warmth from Nikki’s finger brushing away the salty tears. He gives me a small smile before turning his attention back to the bride and groom.

He hasn’t spoken much to me today despite being my plus one to my own cousin’s wedding. I question whether he’s just in a mood, knowing I haven't done anything to cause this distance between us. It’s Josh and Jackie’s day after all. I don’t want to be preoccupied with my own drama, if that’s even what you could call it.

The reception hall gleams with silver, white, and gold for their Christmas wedding, and it looks like something out of a Hallmark movie. Cocktail hour, luckily, isn’t as awkward as I’d imagined it would be. I took the time to introduce Nikki to my distant relatives and close family, and he managed to charm each person he met. Whether his hand was entwined with mine or lightly resting on the small of my back, he sold our relationship, especially to Aunt Rita, who made Nikki promise her a dance.

We made small conversation at dinner, not as much as I would have liked. There was definitely something going on with Nikki, and I vowed to get to the bottom of it before the night ended. Even with his hand resting on my inner thigh under the table, I wasn’t satisfied.

After dancing with Aunt Rita, Nikki had found me and guided me to the dance floor. With his hands linked around my waist, my own entwined around his neck, we slowly swayed to the song. I should have kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the feeling of being safely tucked in Nikki’s arms, but the words came out before they’d registered in my brain.

“Are we okay?”

I wasn’t surprised by the confusion on his face. It was clear he didn’t want me to know something was wrong, so the confusion was quickly replaced by a look of neutrality. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t be?”

For some reason, I can’t look him in the eye. “Something is off with you, Nikki. You’ve barely spoken to me today. Actually, forget today. The past few months have been more awkward between us than anything I can remember, starting after Janielle’s party. So, I’m asking you, are we okay?”

“Pia--.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Pia,” Nikki says firmly, fingers digging into my back to grab my attention. His eyes bore into mine, and for only a split second my breath is caught in my throat. “Not now. Please.”

My jaw ticks angrily, and with as much subtlety as I can master, I break away from Nikki’s hold and excuse myself from the reception. Frustrated tears cloud my vision as I quickly race outside the reception venue into the dark night.

“Pia.” Heavy footsteps chase after me.

I bite my tongue and keep walking, not willing myself to answer him.

“Pia!”

“Fuck you!”

It stuns us both. Nikki retracts, mouth pressed together in a hard, thin line. My chest heaves with every strangled breath, and I will myself not to let the tears fall. There’s no chance I’ll let Nikki see me weak.

“What is your problem?” Nikki suddenly asks defensively.

“My problem?” I spit, crossing my arms. I look like a child, feel like a child, but hell if I’m not the angriest I’ve been in a long time. “My problem is that I don’t know what your problem is. For months, you’ve barely said a word to me. And then I confront you about it, and you have the nerve to try and shut me up?”

His jaw ticks, mirroring my anger. “I have a lot to say, but I don’t know where to start and I don’t want to do this here.” He grabs my hand and pulls me with him. I want to protest, but I’m finally getting some type of answer from him, so it’s best I keep my mouth shut.

The walk feels like forever, but when I finally glance up from my shoes, my brows furrow. We’re right smack in the middle of the garden behind the reception hall. It’s brightly lit and quiet with the exception of the soft drops from the fountain. It’s an oddly romantic setting for a somewhat hostile situation.

And he hasn’t let go of my hand yet. In fact, his grasp seems to have gotten tighter. Not that I mind. It’s the first genuine gesture he’s shown in weeks.

“Nikki, what are we doing here? I want to go inside.”

“Not yet,” he says softly, eyes dodging my gaze. “Just...not yet. I have so much going on inside my head right now, and there’s no starting point. Just scrambled thoughts that don’t make any damn sense to me.”

I sigh, pursing my lips together. “Then start with the most important thought.”

No hesitation, just honesty. “I’m in love with you.”

My spine straightens. Blood rushes to my cheeks, my ears, all the while my brain fails to process the words. “I--You...what?”

He laughs a little, dropping his hand from mine. It’s not followed by anything else, just silence. He stares at me instead, hoping I’ll say something, or do something, but the only thing I can do is channel all my pent up feelings into strength, and before either one of us realizes it, Nikki flies backward into the fountain.

I’m dazed myself, looking from one outstretched arm to the other as Nikki resurfaces from the icy water. He stands, teetering a bit, before flicking his hair from his eyes. “Part of me thinks I deserve that.” There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. “And the other part thinks you’re entirely too dry.”

The cold water sloshes over me as I’m pulled into the fountain. I flail my arms wildly when I’m met with the cool December air, and I manage to push myself to a stand. Fists balled, I use my knuckles to wipe my eyes, no doubt resembling a drenched raccoon. “I could kill you!”

“You started it!” Nikki retorts, throwing his arms in the air. It’s the truth, so I say nothing back. All I can do is stare, and when I stare long enough, a smile breaks through. And a laugh falls from Nikki’s grin, and soon we’re laughing at each other, laughing at this fucked up situation we’ve found ourselves in.

And when the energy between us settles into calmness, I speak. “I remember the moment when I first knew I was in love with you.” Nikki’s eyes narrow, daring me to go on. “Junior year. When I first started making my own lipstick. You sat with me for hours and let me try them on you.”

The corners of his lips tilt slightly at the memory. “The purple one stained my mouth for days.”

I cringe. “Yeah, not my best formula. Sorry about that.”

Nikki laughs, and then it’s silent all over again. I tug my lip between my teeth anxiously. I wait and wait and wait for him to say something. Minutes later when I turn to step out of the fountain, I hear a strangled voice. “We should have been together from the start.”

“You never gave me a chance, Nikki.” I say, hurt. “And to this day, I don’t understand why. What did Charlotte, Viv, and Amanda have that I didn’t? What is so wrong with me that I wasn’t worthy of your love?”

He closes the space between us, chest just inches from mine as his hands cup my cheeks. “There has never been a damn thing wrong with you. I never thought I was worthy of you, so I settled for less. We come from two different worlds P, and I’ve always known you deserve everything good in this life, but I don’t know if I am capable of being the man that gives it to you.”

I reach out to hold his cheeks instinctively. He relaxes under my touch, but he can’t look at me. “It doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he answers defeatedly.

“Well, you’ve been doing a damn good job over the last few months with the exception of ignoring me for the last few weeks,” I chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. I bite my lip nervously. “I know the fake dating was fake to you. But...it was real for me.”

“It was fake at first,” Nikki says truthfully, hands coming up to his face to cover mine. “And then when I started falling, shit I fell hard. And the only way I knew how to deal with it, was run, hide, and try to ignore what I felt. But I can’t do that anymore. I am in love with you, Pia Jane. I am so in love with every piece of you. And maybe if you’re up for it,” he nudges my nose with his, “We can try again. For real this time.”

We’re still in the fountain, standing in chilly knee deep water in the cold December air, but I can’t feel a thing except the warmth that comes from my heart that is so full of love.  

[dokidokey]

trace in the raindrops

summary: your relationship with keigo has been rocky for the past few weeks and your mind hasn’t been quiet in so long. what the both of you would give to take some things back.

pairings: takami keigo / hawks x reader

bingo slot: never got to say goodbye

genre: angst

warning/s: swearing, insecurities, depression, blood, death

word count: 4,989

notes: sixth bingo piece yay! i needed to get this out i’m sorry ehe if you’re uncomfortable with the topics this story is going to discuss, please don’t read. my event masterlist can be found HERE.

Raindrops are pattering against the window as you trace the frazzled lines it makes from the other side, awed by the way a droplet hits the glass like an explosion, breaking apart into tinier little drops like frail branches. You force yourself to listen to the rain as it rages outside, blocking out the soft padding of Takami’s feet on the carpet. You don’t want to see him go with this hell of a storm going on.

“Hey,” his murmur battles with the harsh noises outside, and you tilt your head just the slightest to let him know you’re listening. “I’ll be back soon.”

You nod curtly, not bothering to say anything because you’ve been like this for the past two days, gazing back at the gray scenery on the other side of the window pane. You’re expecting he will at least go over to you to pat your head like he did before, or maybe kiss you if you are lucky, but no. The muffled click of your bedroom door closing, soon followed by the rattle of the front door, is the only thing you got.

There’s a drawn out exhale from you, the tips of your fingers leaving blurred lines as it cascades down the glass along with the rain, settling in a fist on the sill as the ache in your chest feels like it’s crumpling your heart. Cheers to his girl friend for specifically asking for him to pick her up in this weather, and cheers to your boyfriend for agreeing instantaneously with a laugh as he gently pried you off him earlier.

The universe just isn’t with you today, huh? At least the mad pelting of the water seems in time with your heart, beating erratically against your ribcage. How you wish it’s caused by Keigo’s blinding smile or his crazy jokes, but it isn’t. You don’t even remember the last time he did that. You don’t remember the last time he faced you with the brightest and most genuine smile.

At least you get a glimpse of it when he’s with his friends. Right? That’s enough, right? At least somewhere outside the walls of your home, Keigo has a place where he is happy and truly himself. Even if it is not with you anymore.

You don’t know when the prickling feeling of jealousy, or maybe it was envy? You aren’t sure, it feels more like a mixture of both － a heterogeneous one too, so that is why you can’t seem to drown out the feeling. Something heavy settled on the pits of your heart and it grew its roots there, becoming one with your veins. You aren’t sure when you started feeling that, but when you understood the fact that your Keigo isn’t the same Keigo to his friends, that was when you welcomed the feeling in your heart, letting it grow and bloom inside you.

You never told Takami though, too afraid that in the early haze of his love for you, he would drop his friends and stick by your side. You’d probably be happy, not until you drown yourself of the guilt that he chose you over them － over the people he’s a different kind of happy with. You’re willing to destroy yourself inside to keep that little something of real happiness for him.

It’s not that his friends intentionally hurt your feelings because when they pass you both together, they would smile at you or nod in your direction. But there are some though, who goes straight to clapping Keigo in the back without acknowledging your existence. It made you feel small. What’s worse and caused the prominent bitter taste in your mouth was that Keigo never bothered to introduce you. He’ll go on talking to his friend, or friends, and you’re left standing beside him awkwardly, not sure if you should look at them or not, or kindly excuse yourself away.

There’s a bright flash in your line of sight, electric roots crawling down the gray clouds to find a home on the ground, quickly followed by a giant clap of thunder that shakes the walls. It resonates in time with your hurting heart, the drizzling rain like the salty tears slowly painting a shiny streak on your cheek.

It scares you how aware you are of yourself. The self-destruction is just on the very tips of your fingers. Only a little more, you keep chanting in your mind like a broken cassette tape as you push yourself upright. The digital clock bleeds the numbers 03:18 AM in bright red, creating a crimson glow on the surface of your table.

You didn’t mind that there’s a pounding ache blossoming on the back of your head. It lessens your guilt somehow. To you, at least, it feels like the proper apology Keigo deserves. You’re not even sure anymore if you’re guilty because you refused to answer his questions earlier or because you let the same insecurities get to you again.

Class ended early and as always, Takami is waiting outside your classroom. It takes a lot of effort to pull your cheeks up to give him a tight-lipped smile. His hands are gentle as he pats your head, and your heart constricts at the action, because your mind has been plagued with thoughts that made Keigo cry when you opened up to him. The feel of his hands cradling your cheek that day still lingers, the ghost of a promise that seems to be fading as time passes by.

He takes your bag in his and slings an arm loosely around your shoulder, steering you clear of the swarm of bodies littering the hallway. You’re floating again as he leads you, your surroundings turning into a blur as you let your thoughts drown you away.

You learned nothing today. Your professor had called you twice on two different occasions, and the embarrassment of not being able to answer his questions just added to the monstrous pile of negativity lounging in your head. Your mind keeps flitting back to your boyfriend, who you very much love. You think about how disconnected you are to him sometimes, more so to the world, and it feels like you’re taking his love for granted because you don’t know how to return the same intensity of his feelings.

You’re uptight, too. He didn’t really say that, but you know he thinks you are, because you are. You’re not in the same level of fun as his friends. Hell, you know your fun and their fun aren’t synonymous. You’re so different from Takami and his friends. It is like, if you look at a chart depicting Keigo, everything is stellar except you. His standards drastically dropped when you came into the picture

It further proves just how much you don’t deserve Keigo.

You’re shaken awake when Takami’s hands abruptly leave yours, caused by the force of a body colliding with your boyfriend. It was the girl who asked him to pick her up in the middle of the sky’s wailing two weeks ago, and your heart is rolling down your body towards the ground as Keigo’s hands swiftly latch on her arms, steadying her.

“Oh! Sorry Kei!” She giggles, and if the sound is a thing, it’d be the blinding sunshine. It tinkles like a lone wind chime, the melody being carried by the wind like a frail dandelion. Her eyes are twinkling as she takes a step back, gaze fixed on Takami, the brightest smile you’ve ever seen adorning her beautiful face.

Kei. It’s a cute nickname, you will admit. You never had the privilege of calling him nicknames though. And the fact that she’s standing there in front of your boyfriend, with you, his girlfriend, by his side, and uttering that word is just. . . She’s so much more than you, and jealousy sinks its green claws into your heart like a fork to a toaster as the pain surges in your chest like high voltage.

You’re not existing in Keigo’s world once again. You stand at his side, panicking a little because what are you supposed to do? Look at them? Smile at his friend? Make yourself known? Definitely not.

When Keigo wraps an arm around you again, you’re startled. Your head bumps on his chin when you abruptly look up from your phone, and there’s a soft hiss of pain from him.

“Sorry,” you squeak, quickly pocketing the device on your hand and cradling his face. “Sorry, sorry. Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head and you notice how long his hair is now. The soft tuff of ash blonde is kissing the back of his neck and without thinking, your hand moves to feel his hair. There’s a melancholic look swimming in your eyes as you do.

Keigo kisses your forehead then, and suddenly, your heart is in your throat. It was enough to make you cry, but you tell yourself no, you can’t cry, because when you cry, Keigo will ask questions. Questions mean answers, and your answer is his friends. All of them. How the mere thought of his friends break your heart so bad. How even the sight of them makes you feel so worthless in comparison.

You aren’t ready to tell him that, and you’re afraid you never will be.

During the car ride home, he keeps asking you if you’re okay. Are you sick? You don’t know. Maybe you are. Sick of his friends, sick of how they make you feel. Sick of this world. Sick, sick, sick. Sick in the fucking head for being like this. Why aren’t you like a normal person with a normal brain with normal feelings? Were those too much to ask? Was it that hard to give you that?

All you give Keigo are shrugs and shakes of your head and silent whispers of denial. Eventually, he grew tired of asking and of your worthless answers, releasing an annoyed huff and scrunching his eyebrows together in irritation.

There’s a bubbling guilt brewing in you from his reaction, and out of the blue, you wrap an arm around his and ask, “Are you mad?”

His expression doesn’t change as he shakes his head no, but the way he shrugs off your touch is enough answer for you. He is quiet for the rest of the day and his irritation sticks to him like a leech, seeming to suck him dry of his love for you as he didn’t even bother to bid you good night when he went to bed.

It all feels too fast, too much of a whirlwind. You feel like a candle nearing its end, your flame dangerously close to the other end of the wick.

The guilt of making Keigo feel bad is perched heavily on your shoulder. There’s an unbelievably massive emptiness inside you as you realize you’re just another version of Atlas, carrying the world alone. It’s insanely frightening that somehow, in some way, Keigo is your world. You’re carrying him and all his feelings and everything in your hands, and you can only take so much what with your thoughts piercing you like fire-tipped arrows.

So your way of forgiving yourself is this: depriving yourself of sleep. Maybe you won’t eat the whole day tomorrow too to make the guilt vanish like it’s never even there. Your hand is absolutely numb as you force yourself to move it. There’s only one last paragraph left of your homework and as you come to end it with a period, a relieved sigh bubbles out your lips and your head smack down harshly on the table, eyesight spinning.

By the time a hand is soothingly rubbing your back and another one is shaking you awake, your digital clock glares 04:02 AM to you. Keigo pushes stray hairs out of your face as you blink at him wearily.

“Come to bed,” he murmurs, and you revel in the softness of his words, the gentleness of his touch. There are tears brimming behind your closed eyelids as you lean in on his touch. When Keigo laces his fingers with yours to help you up, you oblige. When he tucks you in and wraps an arm around your waist, you smile, a lone tear trickling on your temple.

You’d sacrifice endless sleepless nights for this kind of affection again. If all this is caused by Keigo’s drowsy state, it’s okay, you won’t complain. At least like this, in the quiet of your home and the chaos in your head, you found a little solace, even just for the meantime.

Your spacing out during lectures is taking its toll. Yesterday, when your professor suddenly announced a pop quiz, the number and equations on your paper didn’t make any sense. You failed the quiz and, today in history, you fail another pop quiz. The nearing exams don't calm your frazzled state of mind. The constant fights with Keigo is only adding up to your stress and you’re not sure where to go anymore.

You find him unfair. In times like this that you and him aren’t on good terms, he has his friends to run to. You? What about you? You have nothing except him, and it’s sad to think that you can’t be honest of the one person closest to you. It’s heartbreaking that he’s also the cause of your constant sadness.

You appreciate Keigo’s efforts, really. There’s nothing like the way your heart swells whenever he approaches you to try and mend whatever it is that’s broken between you, but the swelling of your heart causes your throat to close up, and he’s left with choked breaths and stuttered out words. In the end, he let it be.

It’s a Saturday and the exams are over, and you sleep in just for today, trying to catch up on the consecutive all-nighters you pulled to study that didn’t help you out in the end, because most of your answers are just blank spaces on the paper. It’s late and sunny, the window to your right cresting slanted patterns on the wooden floorboards.

The bathroom door opens and comes out a freshly showered Takami, drying his hair with a towel and clad in denim. He halts as he sees you awake, but continues just as quick to pull out a shirt from his cabinet.

“We’re going out today, the guys and I,” he informs you in a cold voice, and it’s like being pricked by the sharpest icicle. He doesn’t bother looking at you as he puts his shirt on and grabs his spare keys for the front door. “I’ll be out late so keep the door locked while I’m gone.”

The heaviness in your chest is unmatched by Keigo’s ignorance and icy attitude as he lets himself out of your shared bedroom without another glance. You try to convince yourself that no, he just needs to get something outside and he’ll come back to bid you goodbye, maybe even kiss you or at least pat your head, but you can’t stomach the chilling sound of the door slamming shut in this eerily quiet house.

You didn’t bother getting up to eat, proceeding to just sleep and hoping your slumber would slowly dissipate the clawing jealousy and envy brooding in your chest. You wake up some time at night with the constant buzzing of your phone. You’re greeted by numerous texts from Rumi, a close friend of yours.

[rumi 08:17 pm] y/n i swear to fucking god is this your boyfriend

[rumi 08:17 pm] 927482.jpg

[rumi 08:17 pm] im going to break this mans neck y/n im telling you

[rumi 08:18 pm] RESPOND Y/N WHERE ARE YOU

[rumi 08:18 pm] it really IS your fucking boyfriend

[rumi 08:19 pm] whos that bitch on his lap

[rumi 08:19 pm] y/n if you dont respond asap im dragging these two by their necks outside

[rumi 08:20 pm] Y/N I SWESR WHERE ARE TOH RESPONS TI MY TEXTS FFS

Your heart is mad against your chest as it beats erratically, dainty fingers shaking as it taps on the attachment Rumi sent you. You have to increase your phone’s brightness because all you can see are the neon lights in the background but alas, after the settings panel lowered, there he is, with the same girl sitting on his lap.

“O-oh,” your breath stutters. You stare at the photo longer, hoping that it will magically transform into another man’s face because hell, that cannot be your Keigo. No. But it is him. That’s the same shirt he was wearing when you woke up. The way his eyes are shining and the quirky smile on his face is a clear giveaway that yes, it really is your boyfriend. You don’t miss the hand lazily draped over the small of her back.

That is the same hand that used to pat your head, rub your back, comb through your hair. That is the same hand that used to hold yours, although you can’t remember when was the last time.

Your chest physically aches at the thought of Keigo in there, with her, without you. He’s out there and you’re here after he left you with nothing. He has some audacity. And he’s going to come home to you in, say, three or four hours? For what?

But hey, who says he will come home tonight anyway?

The first thought finds it home inside your brain immediately, quickly followed by more as they try to take up the spaces in your head. What if Keigo doesn’t come home? Would he kiss her? Is he cheating? Does he love her? Is she better? What is wrong with you? What happens if Keigo doesn’t come back tonight? Does he tell her the same soft I love yous he tells you? What if they. . . ?

A wracking sob shakes your body heavily, fists tight against the comforter you’re slowly pulling up your knees, trying to shield yourself from what, you do not know. The betrayal feels like no other － like a bitter something that is slowly crawling down your throat and heart, sitting heavy in your stomach, ruining you inside.

The embers of your hate for his friends flares up, the flames licking at your chest as it aches. And no one even cares to remind him he has a girlfriend? That letting another girl sit on your lap while you’re in a relationship means you might as well break up? They know of your existence and stance in his life yet they let him anyway?

Keigo let her anyway.

Another sob tumbles out of your mouth, somehow it is the only comforting sound inside the tense silence in your room. What you’d give for Keigo to be home, wrap you in his arms, and assure you everything will be alright. What you’d give to take back all your confessions about the absolute chaos in your head, feeling like a fool for letting your defenses down and being vulnerable in front of him just to treat you like this.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting there when the front door rattles open, and soon there’s a drenched Takami standing on your bedroom’s doorway. The rain is raging outside and you didn’t even notice.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, chest heaving, taking cautious steps toward your slumped form. You’re not sure why he’s saying sorry. Maybe Rumi did drag him and that girl out of the club.

You wipe the back of your hand to your cheek, erasing the evidence of your crying. You plast on a wobbly smile at him. “It’s okay,” you assure, despite the fact that you’re not assured. Pushing the comforter off you, you make a way for the pile of towels on the corner, and approach your boyfriend.

There’s a pained look on his face as you brought the cloth to his face, gently drying the rainwater dripping on his skin. Keigo sighs and angles his face away from you and grabs your wrist.

“Stop.”

You shake him off, the sides of your eyes burning, placing the towel on top of his head and drying his hair. It hurts to see him right now, but at least he’s home. Right? At least he’s here. With you. He came home.

“Y/N,” he stresses, hands gripping your arms hard like hot ice and shaking you adamantly. “For fuck’s sake, Y/N, I said I’m sorry.”

Keigo’s voice cracks.

You smile again, a little crooked, a little hurt. Your breath is hot against his cheek when you say, “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Keigo exhales, something dark looming on his face. He pushes your hand away, and a tear slips down your cheek, but you’re quick. Your hand swipes it away as fast as it fell down, and there’s only a shadow of the trail it left.

The man in front of you sighs in exhaustion as he runs a shaking hand through his hair, the sound heavy on his chest. He sounds so tired. Fed up. Done. Is this how he will break up with you? The thought alone breaks your heart, and there is another trickle of tear down your eyes, and a choked sob escapes you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Keigo murmurs in remorse as he slowly pulls you in his arms, and you immediately latch to him, uncaring of the voice inside your head saying this is the same man who has his hands on another girl. He came home. He’s here with you. That is all that matters. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”

There’s no stopping your tears as it soaks the neckline of his shirt. Your breath is hot against his neck, contrasting his skin that is cold from the rain. “I know Rumi told you. She talked to me,” he explains, lips grazing your temple in a way that hurts so good. “I’m sorry, baby, it’ll never happen again.”

You pull your head away from his neck, breathing in through your nose, voice croaky. “I－ I’ve never－ You don’t see me sitting like that on other men's lap, Keigo,” you lament, the image flashing before your eyes again. “I feel so cheated.”

His hands are caressing your back and the pressure is a nice reminder that you aren’t alone anymore. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

Though you know no amount of sorrys can mend that little piece of your broken heart, you let it slide. You let it go. You just relish in this moment you manage to steal away from his friends, snuggling against his neck despite the cold bite of his wet clothes on your skin.

When Keigo suggests both of you clean up now that you’re also drenched in rainwater, you oblige. The soft feeling of his hands rubbing your scalp and his whispers of countless I’m sorrys is kept behind the tiny area of your bathroom. When you’re cuddled up to him right before bed, you don’t understand the difference of I love you and I’m sorry anymore.

It’s raining again.

Keigo decided to take you out today, saying it has been so long since the last you did. There’s a bitter remark in the back of your head saying, that’s because you don’t pay attention. It’s always your friends over me. It’s always her over me. But you ignored it, too elated by your boyfriend’s proposals because finally, after so long, it’s you and him again.

You look up at your transparent umbrella, eyes transfixed on a raindrop that lazily glides over the curve of the plastic, rejoining the ones that had built up at the ends. It falls down the puddle at your feet, the echoes of its fall waving in the water. You smile and pull out your phone to call Keigo. He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago.

He picks up on the second ring. “Sorry,” comes his greeting, “I’m on my way, I promise.”

“It’s okay.” There’s nothing to be sorry for. You move the tips of your shoes to tap the puddle, and your reflection on the water dances. “I’ll be waiting here. Take care, okay? I lo－”

You don’t see it because you’re looking the other way, totally oblivious of the car reeling towards your direction. There was no beep or honk or anything. All there was was the screeching of tires on wet asphalt, but it’s too late.

You make eye contact with the wide-eyed man behind the wheel. Touya’s eyes look about to fall, and it would have pulled a good laugh out of you because this usually calm and collected friend of Keigo is panicking, but you know you can’t do that. Not anymore. Not ever.

The pain comes at full blow on your chest and your breath is knocked out of your lungs from the impact. You manage to register the fact that after that excruciating hit, your body is thrown back and hits the shed’s post. Something cracks through the happenings of it all.

Your phone is not in your hands anymore, your umbrella is gone. The rain is pattering against your face, mixing with the blood slowly pooling under your body. You barely understand Touya’s words as he runs off to you, lips moving in frenzy as he talks on his phone.

Keigo’s heart drops. What the fuck was that?

“Y/N,” he calls, dread sitting tight on his chest, “Y/N? Hello? Can you hear me?”

You don’t answer. He wants nothing than to get out of this fucking train and go to you. This seems too slow. Too slow.

Faintly, he hears it. A voice. His friend’s voice, to be exact. What the hell is Touya doing there with you? He picks up a few words, like accident and ambulance, and it feels like his heart is about to fall.

What happened to you? God, if anything bad happened to you, Keigo might lose his mind.

He’s out of the train when his phone rings again, and his heart skips with the thought that maybe it’s you, but when it displays Todoroki’s name, he almost throws the device away. “What?” He snaps, wiping the raindrops falling frantically on his face. His irritation and anxiety heightens. It’s like the raindrops are there to tell him to move faster, walk faster, get to you faster.

“Keigo, fuck, fuck, fuck,” comes Touya’s voice in Takami’s ear, and he abruptly stops at the distressed tone of his voice before moving again, mind wrapped around the thought of getting to you immediately.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Touya moans, “I’m so fucking sorry, I swear, I didn’t mean it, man.”

Keigo refuses to accept it. No. He ends the call and his rushed walk turns into a sprint, the soles of his shoes beating in time with the drops of rain. Maybe this is all a dream － a vivid one at that, because when he sees the familiar shed where you told him you’ll wait, it all feels too real.

His legs are straining from the effort he’s exerting to get to you faster, yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to. Seeing you will make it real. Keigo cannot accept that. He doesn’t want to accept that.

But there you were, eyes toward the sky and unseeing, arms splayed. Fuck. He skids to a stop next to your body, ignoring the bite of the concrete against his knees and Todoroki, who is looking at him wide-eyed.

“No, no, no, no,” Keigo rasps, hands hover over your body. The fear of touching you is sending alarms off inside his head. No. This cannot be true. This isn’t you.

But you’re wearing the necklace he gave you on your first anniversary, the gold lace hanging crooked on your neck.

He doesn’t mind the mix of blood and rain seeping into his clothes as he carefully, carefully places a hand over your forehead, and he wants nothing but to shake you awake but the dead look in your eyes is killing him.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he whispers, closing your eyelids and resting his forehead on yours, and he cries. Is this what he gets because he’s been neglecting you? Is this in exchange for the act he pulled yesterday night? Is this the universe taking back the greatest thing in his life because he didn’t appreciate it enough?

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Keigo has it etched on his mind － your little phrases over the phone whenever the call is nearing its end. Take care. I love you. Bye. With the last word drawn out, childlike and wondrous. You weren’t even able to say those things. One last time.

But Keigo is aware of all the times he did not bid you goodbye. Every instance is eating away at him every day, his pride too big for him. It feels as though he took your for granted, and yes, maybe he really did.

What Keigo would give to turn back time and love you the right way you deserved.

He doesn’t realize when the medics came. He didn’t respond when a voice asked him to step back, thrice, until arms were lifting him off his feet. He didn’t say anything when somebody asked his name. All he can see is your body, drenched in water and blood.

You always did love the rain, so maybe that is why he’s so transfixed with the webs of crimson slowly mingling with the water on your skin. He watches as it becomes one with the rain, dripping down the pavement, and he knows soon it will disappear, all evidence of how once upon a time, Takami Keigo lost the love of his life in this very place.

more notes: i don’t know why i do this to myself heh this was supposed to be way darker and sadder, but i changed it last minute jskdl hope you enjoyed!

[the-dragongirl]

Hello tumblr. I have returned from a long period of inactivity, because I must bring the good word to the corner of the Star Wars fandom that used to be my main fannish home: there is a new era of Star Wars canon that was made just for our taste. It is called the High Republic.

WHAT IS THE HIGH REPUBLIC?

The High Republic is an giant multi-media project being carried out by the Lucasfilm story group to create a brand new era of Star Wars canon. It is set a few hundred years before the prequel era (so, a long time after the Old Republic era), in a period of peace and stability within the Republic. It currently includes several English language adult novels, a YA novel, two serialized comics, a manga, some short stories, and some short video blurbs published on facebook and youtube. A TV show for Disney+ has also been announced, but is a few years off. This project is unique in Star Wars, in that all of the different parts are being written together by one writing team, and are coordinated to tell a cohesive story. Also, what has been announced is just the beginning – they have stated that there will be three different sections of the High Republic, and everything we have had announced so far is just part one. As a note: this is an era for which there was NO pre-existing canon in Legends, so it is totally new territory.

OKAY, THAT’S NICE, BUT WHY SHOULD I BOTHER TO CHECK IT OUT?

There are SO many reasons why the High Republic is worth your time to explore. I will try to outline some of them here below the cut (without any significant spoilers).

IT IS A LOVE LETTER TO THE JEDI

This is the era for everyone who loves the Jedi and wants to understand how they got to the point they did in the prequel era. It shows Jedi at their best: saving people, working together, being completely in tune with the Force (in so many beautiful and original ways), demonstrating creativity and flexibility and being rewarded for it, actually thinking through the ethics of things like the mind trick, and DEALING with their emotions rather than repressing them. It shows us how the rigid Jedi culture was saw in the prequels was a corruption of something that was originally healthy and uplifting. Jedi in this era are allowed to be flawed, and to grow, and have a community that supports them in doing so. This is the Jedi culture so many of us created as fix it fic for the prequel era, but made canon.

IT IS AN ERA OF HOPE

There are some serious problems in the High Republic Era. Without spoilers, the era opens with a terrible humanitarian crisis, laid over the Republic equivalent of the New Deal from US history.  We see a lot of examples of people doing their best to be good to each other, and working for a more just and kind galaxy. They acknowledge that things are not perfect, but people from many different backgrounds (Jedi, politicians, farmers, pilots, business people) work together to try and make things better. I don’t know about you all, but with the darkness we see in the world today, I NEED some of that optimism in my escapist media. The High Republic provides that.

IT WILL GIVE YOU FEELINGS

The existing material so far is structured to really let you emotionally invest in the characters and their struggles. Unlike with many eras of Star Wars canon, characterization is not sacrificed for the sake of plot (though never fear, there is PLENTY of plot). That means there is huge scope for empathy. I’m not going to lie; I cried within the first three chapters of Light of the Jedi, as did several other people I know. It is POIGNANT in a way that feels truly genuine.

IT IS FUN

The writing team understands that, in the end, Star Wars is space fantasy. If your space fantasy is nothing but serious, gritty grimdark, it becomes pretentious and unbearable. So, for all that there is some heavy content in the High Republic (VERY heavy content – the Nihil should really have their own content warning), it has many moments of levity that keep it from taking itself too seriously. For example, the High Republic made Jedi bodice rippers canon. Also, characters like Geode exist (yes, that rock there is a CHARACTER). The result is something which honors the spirit of Star Wars, and keeps you engaged without being tedious or ridiculously depressing.

THE WRITING TEAM HAS DIVERSE PERSPECTIVES

The main writing team consists of five people: Justina Ireland, Claudia Gray, Charles Soule, Daniel José Older, and Cavan Scott. You will note that includes two people of color, two women, and one out Queer person (in fact, one of the writers is all three of those things). This is a far cry from the white-cis-straight-man-dominated writing teams we have seen in the past. And when they bring in other people to the project, they make a point of looking for perspectives that aren’t represented on their team – for example, the manga is being co-written between Justina Ireland and Japanese writer Shima Shinya, and Ireland has stated in interviews that Shinya is taking the lead on the writing.

IT VALUES MEANINGFUL REPRESENTATION

That diverse writing team means a cast that looks WAY more like the real world than any other era of Star Wars we’ve seen, in terms of representation. There are multiple characters of color, who are both heroes and central to the story. There are at least five canonical queer characters to date (a MLM couple, an Ace character, and two NB character).  [EDIT: Thank you @legok9​ for letting me know about the NB characters]. Among binary gendered characters, there is a very even balance of men and women. The writing team has also stated that they will be incorporating more representation of disability in the works to come. And the story is so much better for it – representation is included here BECAUSE it makes for more creative, believable, and original storytelling.

IT IS ACCESSIBLE

Because of the multiple formats, and the fact that it doesn’t rely on you knowing any prior lore, the High Republic offers many avenues to engage for people with all kinds of needs. Know nothing about Star Wars canon and feel intimidated about catching up? The canon is all new in this era anyway, so you’re fine. Can’t handle flashing lights? No problem – the little bit of video content that exists is totally free from the strobing effects that caused seizure and sensory issues. Need purely audio content? You can still have a full experience of the High Republic with the gorgeously sound-scaped audiobooks. Don’t have the attention span for books or long movies? Then the comics are your friend.

THERE IS SOMETHING FOR ALL

Between the books aimed towards adults and teens (and their respective audiobooks), the kids books, the comics, the manga, the short stories, AND the eventual TV show on Disney+, there is going to be content in the High Republic that suits most audiences. And that is just what has been announced so far – there is still more to come for phases II and III. This isn’t Star Wars written towards one group or demographic – it is Star Wars for everyone.

DID I MENTION THE FANCY JEDI UNIFORMS?

Because cosplayers and fanartists? This is the era for you. We are getting Jedi in silks with elaborate gold embroidery. Jedi with jewelry other decorative elements. Even the practical field uniforms have tooled and embossed leather. If you want to draw or make Jedi that have some of that that sweet LoTR-esque high fantasy aesthetic, the High Republic has your back. (Not going to lie – I am ALREADY imagining the time travel AUs. Put Obi-Wan in fancy clothes!)

OKAY, YOU’VE SOLD ME. WHERE SHOULD I START?

I strongly recommend everyone looking to get into the High Republic (who is old enough to be on Tumblr) start with Light of the Jedi by Charles Soule. I alternated between the physical book and the audio book, and found it delightful in both formats. After that, you have a lot of options. You can read or listen to the audio book of the YA novel A Test of Courage by Justina Ireland. You can check out the currently running Star Wars: The High Republic comic from Marvel, or the Star Wars: The High Republic Adventures comic from IDW. Or you can skip straight to Into the Dark by Claudia Gray. Honestly, there is no wrong order to try out most of the High Republic.

IN CONLUSION

The High Republic is Star Wars written for people who DON’T want Star Wars to be a good ‘ol boys club for salty white dudes who don’t want to see anything but more of Luke Skywalker. It offers broad representation, and optimistic narrative, and whole bunch of awesome Jedi content. If you are someone who fell in love with Jedi in the prequel era, the High Republic will give you more of what you loved. And if you are totally new to Star Wars? The High Republic is here for you too.

So, go check it. And then go write fic for it (please, there are only, like, 14 fics on AO3, I am dying).

[holylulusworld]

Play by my rules

Summary: Trying to get over the break-up with your fiancé you spend a week with a foreign man. No names. No rules. No seeing each other again. What happens when you stumble into him again?

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester x Jess Moore, Ofc’s

Warnings: angst, comforting, fluff, shitty father, language, protective Dean, arguments, implied smut/light smut, pregnant reader, making-out, dirty talk, mentions of cheating

What daddy doesn’t know Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Six months later…

“You’re such a naughty girl,” Dean muses, lips travelling down your neck while you try to concentrate on the recipe. “Wearing nothing but one of my button-ups while you cook my favorite meal. Barfoot, half-naked, and pregnant. That’s how I imagined you.”

“Dean,” you scold your husband, as he tries to slip one hand into your panties. “I’m wearing your shirt as it’s comfortable. I’m barefoot as it’s unbearable hot and I cook your favorite meal for our dinner with my parents.”

Dean hums, looking over your shoulder to dip his finger into the sauce, moaning as he slips his other hand into your panties to toy with your clit. “Such a needy little cunt you have.”

“If you don’t stop distracting me I will burn the food, Dean. Please, stop,” nibbling at your neck Dean smirks. “Dean.”

“Just let me feel your pretty pussy for a few minutes,” you whine when Dean hastily opens his pants. “If you want me to survive another dinner with your father and brother, I need encouragement, sweetheart.”

“You invited them,” ignoring your protests Dean shoves the button-up you stole from him up to your waist to get a glimpse of your bare ass. “It was your idea. I would’ve preferred to meet up with my mom.”

“Baby girl,” husking the pet name into your ear Dean runs his fingers up and down your slit. “You’re so wet for me.”

"Jesus, you needy bastard,” he laughs at your words, his sweatpants drop to the floor. “I need to watch the food,” you feel the head press against your opening, moaning as Dean whispers dirty promises into your ear.

“Feel this?” Dean places his hands on your hips, already inching his way into your body. “You make me so hard, sweetheart.”

“Shit, baby,” you enjoy the delicious burn Dean’s girth causes, “You’re so deep inside of me, Dean. I love how your cock stretches me out.”

“I know you do,” your husband grins hands gently rubbing your four-month baby bump. “Do you know how hard you get me as you are having my baby? I filled you with my child,” he whispers against your sweet spot, pecking it softly. “I’m gonna fuck you so deep.”

“Dean, in not three hours my parents will drop at our place along with your brother, Jess, and my brother,” pushing back onto Dean you keen. “Fuck me fast.”

“As you wish…”

“Sam,” you greet Dean’s brother. There is still not much love between you and Sam. Sam tried anything to win your trust but so far, you only warmed up for his fiancé, Jess. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam tries to hug you, but you turn to greet his fiancé, ignoring Sam’s pained expression. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Dean wanted a family dinner to announce something,” you try to hide your baby bump underneath a wide shirt but Jess nods knowingly. “He said we shall invite our family’s so…that’s that.”

“Will you ever forgive me?” sighing Sam watches you turn your attention toward Jessica. “Y/N, I apologized repeatedly. I know what I said back then was hurtful, but I try to make things up to you, Y/N.”

“Sammy, give my wife time,” Sam gasps at Dean’s words. “Be lucky she let you be at our nice intimate wedding,” nodding Sam looks at you. His eyes widen when you place one hand onto your belly. “Let’s prepare for her family. You will love her brother, Sammy. He’s a pain in the ass.”

You snicker at Dean’s words while you open the door wider to let Sam and Jessica inside. Jessica slings one arm around your shoulders, whispering something into your ear Sam can’t hear.

“I’m glad you came. My family is stressful, to say the least. I am afraid my brother and father won’t like the good news Dean wants to announce. He could need backup,” you grin, poking Sam’s chest. “What are brothers for if not to share the bad days too.”

“Bad days, huh?” Sam looks at you, searching your face but your serious expression tells him you are not joking. “If you need us, we are here for you.”

“Jason is a bit,” you sigh, not wanting Sam to know your brother is more than a bit annoying, “hard to handle. Don’t get me wrong, I love him but, he doesn’t care about me as you do for Dean.”

“In other words, Jason is an idiot who gives a shit on my wife. He wanted to know about the Singer deal and didn’t stop bugging me when we met for the first time,” Dean pecks your cheek, humming when you wrap your arms around him. “Her mom is nice, though. Be nice to her.”

Sam awkwardly stands in your living room, hoping you will open your heart for him one day while he tries to process your father is worse than his own.

“Mom,” smiling you hug your mother tightly. “I’m glad you came. I made your favorite pie, and we got the ice cream you like so much.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” your mother chokes out and you frown, seeing her lips start to quiver. “I couldn’t wait to get out of the house today.” You can hear the sadness hidden behind her friendly words. Her smile, it doesn’t reach her eyes and you know something must’ve happened.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, welcome to our home. You look beautiful,” Dean smiles, pecking your mother’s cheek. “I can’t decide who’s prettier. You or my wife.”

“Wife?” your father grunts, looking at Dean with angry eyes. “Since when do people call a girl they spend their nights with ‘wife’?” your father spats, eyes drifting toward you.

“Well, I married your daughter four months ago, this makes her my wife,” Dean’s eyes are cold, and even Sam’s flinches when his elder brother steps in front of you to shield you from your father’s angry eyes. “Y/N is my wife. I must ask you to respect her at my house. My house, my rules.”

“I get it, Mr. Winchester,” your father’s eyes drift toward your mother and your stomach tightens when he narrows his eyes, giving her a warning glare. “You handle your wife, I handle mine.”

“I don’t think my wife would appreciate if I ‘handle her’,” Dean’s body goes stiff and you need to place one hand onto his bicep to calm your husband. “We should go to our dining room and enjoy the dinner my wife prepared.”

“A wonderful idea,” your mother nods, giving Dean a soft smile, a genuine one this time. “Let’s enjoy the food Y/N made.”

“The roasted chicken is delicious, sweetheart,” Dean pecks your cheek, giving your thigh a soft squeeze. “All you cooked tastes like heaven.”

“Dry,” your father coughs. “The bird is too dry and the sauce too salty. I guess Y/N needs to practice more often. A woman should know how to cook and not only concentrate on her career.”

“Luckily, Y/N is my wife, not yours,” Dean bites back. “My wife can have a career and live her life the way she wants to. Y/N is fully capable to decide what she wants.”

Your mother smiles anytime Dean defends you. “I’m glad my Y/N found you. She looks so happy since she met you, Dean. Scott, he never made her smile like you.”

“Y/N does the same to me, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Dean says, giving your mother a soft smile. “I never was happier than with Y/N by my side. She gave me everything. Love. Her heart. A beautiful wife. A home and,” Dean’s smile grows when he gets an ultrasound picture out of his jacket. “my son.”

“Son,” your father chokes on his wine, looking at the ultrasound picture in Dean’s hand. “So, that’s the reason you married her. Without that ring, she would carry a bastard.” The words barely left your father’s lips before Dean jumps over the table to fist your father’s tie.

“You son of a bitch dare to come here and insult my wife. You dare to call my son, the child in my girl’s belly a bastard. What kind of father are you?” Sam needs to jump up to hold his brother back or he would kill your father. “Y/N is nothing but loyal to you, your awful son, and your wonderful wife. Why are you such a prick?”

“Dean, he’s not worth it,” your mother sniffles, placing one hand onto your husband’s shoulder. “He never understood how to treat a woman right. He’s a liar, a cheater and an awful person.”

“Mom?” you hug your mother tightly when she begins to cry. “What happened? I knew something is off. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I caught your father red-handed with our neighbor. She’s my friend for over 25 years. I considered her family only for her to stab me in the back,” you run your hands up and down your mother’s back, try anything to soothe her.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean grits out. “Sammy, help me get that piece of shit out of my house before I rip his head off.”

“Is that the reason Jason and Erica didn’t come tonight?” your mother nods, looking up at you with tear-clouded eyes. “They know?”

“I called him, asked if I can stay for a few nights but Jason said there is no space at their house. I think they are planning for a baby or something,” you sniffle, hating your brother let your mom down. “I didn’t want to bug you during your honeymoon phase.”

“You will stay with us,” Dean says before you can find your voice. “No discussion. We got three guest rooms. You can stay as long as you want to and watch your grandson grow up. Never believe you disturb us.”

“Thank you,” your mother’s voice cracks when she looks at your husband. 

“We will get your things tomorrow. Don’t worry. This is your home from now on too,” you smile at Dean as he starts to drag your father out of his house, cursing under his breath. “Get out of my house and never come back.”

“My brother and I will get your wife's belongings tomorrow. You better don’t try anything or I will sue you. I’m a lawyer and love to sue people like you,” Sam threatens. “Now you better shove your ass out of my brother’s and Y/N’s house before I forget myself and give you more than a black eye…”

“I can’t thank you enough,” your mother looks around the huge guest room, smiling as you got her favorite pillows and blanket. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Mom, you don’t have to thank me or Dean. You are my family, just like Dean’s,” you sit on the bed, glancing at the pictures your mother placed onto the nightstand. “I’m sorry dad cheated on you mom.”

“I knew he did it before, you know,” huffing your mother looks at her ring finger. She took her wedding band off the moment, Dean, Sam and you returned with her belongings. Your father didn’t even try to win her over again, too busy to celebrate his new freedom. “I should’ve left him years ago. He didn’t treat me well for years.”

“I know, mommy,” you lean your head against your mother’s shoulder, sighing deeply. “I had hoped he would change his behavior when he gets to know he’s going to be a grandfather, I was wrong.”

“How’s your mom?” Dean gently massages your shoulders to help you relax. “Does she like the room? Did you explain the steam shower to her? Do we need to get more pillows for her?”

“She’s sad as dad cheated on her, again,” you lean into Dean’s touch, “but I think she likes the room and to be here. Thank you, Dean.”

“You don’t need to thank me, baby girl,” he pecks your neck, whispering your name. “I love you. Your mom is my family too and I meant what I said, Y/N. Our home is her home now too.”

“I love you too, Dean. You gave me the same things you named during our dinner, Dean. I’m glad I followed you to your suite back then,” Dean snickers, hands now moving to your belly to feel his son. “Not only as you have that magic dick.”

“You are one naughty girl,” you nod, feeling his hand move down to your panties. “I guess daddy needs to show you how much he loves that you are in his life.”

THE END...

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

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

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[deadontheinsidebut]

⤷ Day 10: Kaminari Denki + “are you flirting with me?”

Synopsis: You, Kaminari & the rest of the Bakusquad go to see the fireworks on the beach but the fireworks aren’t the only sparks flying.

Word Count: 1.5k

Fluffvember Masterlist

The Bakusquad was finally celebrating their last year at UA and what better way to celebrate than to get it on with fireworks? It was currently summer break which means it has only been a couple months since the school year started, but the Bakusquad wasn’t really one to follow those end-of-the-year traditions.

Mina was ecstatic because she had finally managed to convince Bakugou to leave the house and meet up with you guys. With the entire Bakusquad in toll, the six of you found yourself at the biggest beach in the city.

It was fairly empty since it was nearing the end of the day and this was exactly how all of you liked it. You were walking next to Kaminari, your best friend and the boy you’ve liked since your first year. He was, for a lack of a better phrase, an electric presence. Every time he walked into the room, you could feel yourself breathe a little easier and your body relax. It was the opposite of what a crush should be, or at least what the rest of the girls considered a legitimate crush.

They described it as endless butterflies and unintentional stuttering but those things never happened with you and Kaminari. Instead, every time he was in your presence, you felt the urge to be closer, just like you were right now. You wanted to feel your arm on his. You wanted to feel his spark.

You were snapped out of your daydream when Kirishima and Bakugo start a play fight next to you, bumping you into Kaminari’s back and causing the both of you to plop onto the sand.

Kaminari’s face was pressed into the sand and you face planted onto his back. Mina was quick to react, taking out her phone to snap a picture and commenting that this was one moment to add to the Bakusquad scrapbook.

Sero was holding his stomach and bent over laughing at the scene before him as Kirishima and even Bakugou were staring down at you with feared looks on their faces because they know they have incurred your wrath.

When you stand up, they swear they could see your hair standing up with the fires of hell behind you and you grabbed the two idiots by the collar and starting to lecture them on being careful, especially in public.

Kaminari seemed to have short circuited at the contact between you two and was standing aside all bashfully, admiring your assertiveness as you lectured your two friends. Mina noticed this dynamic long ago. She considered you two electric loves and is still confused as to why you two haven’t admitted your love to each other, but she has made it this year’s goal to get you guys together.

Mina separates you from Kiri and Baku and pushes you towards Kaminari so that you fall back into his arms, “ok miss y/n that’s enough aggressiveness for today, the boys are sorry,” she glares at the blond and red head, “so now we’re gonna have fun... the right way!”

Your back is pressed up against Kaminari’s chest and he’s holding you by the arms from catching you but you can feel his heart beating against you. It’s loud and powerful... and something you wouldn’t have expected. Could Denki possibly be nervous?

When you step away, it was as though an electrical connection had fizzled out. His face is flustered as he scratches the back of his head. He mentally notes how warm you felt all against him like that. The lingering feeling of your body still on his hands, he can’t bring himself to move.

Sero has to slap him once on the back to get him to walk forward which he does. He doesn’t know if you will ever feel the same way he does. You’ve never ever been embarrassed around him and he wonders why. He wonders why he’s the only person you’ve never felt flustered around. Was he in the friendzone or something? Pushing the thought aside, he catches up to the group and offers you a side smile because at the end of the day, no matter what, you are his best friend forever.

Your group finally picks a spot to light the fireworks and it was a quiet place a few feet away from the ocean. You leave the setting up to Bakugo since he likes explosions and Kirishima since Mina said it was punishment for fighting earlier.

You, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina have made your way over to the ocean. You feel the water lap at your feet and you breathe in the salty air. There’s something so majestically unknown about the ocean; no one knows what’s really out there and you’re able to imagine endless possibilities. You look for Kaminari and you find him flinching and jumping back every time the water comes in and you put two and two together: electricity and water do not mix.

You want to burst into laughter but you hold it in long enough to reach your friend. He sees you come over and his body starts to loosen up.

“Isn’t it crazy that we’re in our last year of high school now?” He begins, “it feels like only yesterday I bumped into you in the hall and we had our first conversation.”

You sigh as you seat yourself on the sand, “time goes by so quickly so I want to cherish today for as long as I can,” you reply.

He sits next to you and you swear he was only a mere 10 mm away. You wanted to close that gap so badly.

“Knowing us, things will go completely wrong and the night will end with one of us losing our hair or something,” he chuckles, letting his eyes close in comfort.

“Yeah, but as long as you’re here, I think I’ll still enjoy it.”

You don’t know what overcame you to be honest, but you just felt like it had to be known. How could you close the distance when you two can’t even overcome the obstacle of words?

There’s a moment of silence before Kaminari speaks up, “are you flirting with me?”

He doesn’t sound angry or annoyed in the slightest. Instead, he’s a million different shades of red and his voice comes out in a shy and hopeful manner.

“And what if I am?” You mumble, feeling nervous for the first time in the past three years.

Almost as though he were reading your mind from earlier, he intertwines his fingers with yours, ultimately closing the 10mm gap.

“I mean... I wouldn’t mind it,” he drags out the last half of his sentence.

You look at him for the first time since you sat down and maybe it was because of the moment but you were completely bewildered by how magnificent he looked with the stars hovering over his head. His golden eyes were radiating happiness and you could feel his genuine feelings pulling through.

“Hey lovebirds! Get over here the fireworks are about to start!” Mina calls out, waving you two over with sparklers in hand.

You two rush over to your friends and they hand you two sparklers each. They ask Kaminari to use his quirk to light the fireworks and with a little spark, the fireworks fly through the sky, bursting into an array of colours and sparkles. The six of you run around the beach, barefoot and barely clothed with sparklers in hand. The sparklers flicker as they leave a trail of light behind them.

You match your speed with Kaminari and the two of you are laughing as you try to outrun the other. When you finally stop, you two are catching your breaths, panting from the adrenaline. This is the rush that could only be compared to love.

Your eyes lock onto one another once again and you have an exhilarating feeling. Is that what people mean when they say sparks fly?

When the rest of your friends finally catch up to you, they’re complaining about how you guys didn’t wait at all but it was going in one ear and going out the other. All you wanted to pay attention to was the boy standing in front of you. When he’s finally caught his breath, he reaches an arm out towards you and you’re stunned at his next words, “everything is fine as long as we’re together, right?”

You accept his hand and the two of you are off again, running and laughing without a care in the world.

“Oi! What do you two think you’re doing without us??!?” Bakugou shouts as he chases after you guys.

If anyone asked you what was the best part of your time at UA, you would tell them the story of tonight: the one that opened your heart to a new chapter called love.

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