#been living in the swamps since then but only recently got out so he's a bit disoriented

[kelgrid]

I still need to fix a few things but here's my PC for our Tampa by Night Chronicle 👀

#vampire: the masquerade #vampire the masquerade #vampire #gangrel #portrait #art #my art #harper #he was embraced and went into torpor the next day #for 14 years #been living in the swamps since then but only recently got out so he's a bit disoriented

[lostinforestbound]

It's finally here! I'm sorry it took me so long, with work and art projects I got completely swamped. But now it's here! I'm aware I'm posting this incredibly late so no one will see this until morning probably hahaha! Requested tag: @snoozeeebee

Rolan/M!Tiefling Tav

Third Time's the Charm - Ch.1

Rolan intends on doing great things when he finally gets to Baldur's Gate, but an utter idiot named Tav is distracting him. Unfortunately, against his better judgement, he's starting to fall for him.

Word Count: 5.9k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rolan's POV, Makeout, No smut (yet) but it gets frisky, Slowburn

(If there's any tags I missed, please let me know!) NSFW, MDNI

They've been at this grove, stewing and waiting for too long. That Archdruid (Halsin was his name, he believes) might have been welcoming, but the other druids have not. Now he up and disappeared after he decided to follow a group of weak, loud, wannabe adventurers who were only out for themselves. When they cowered back inside the grove with less than half their group, he knew that this place was doomed. What's worse than all of that mess is that Lia is stubborn about leaving, and now they're in an argument again. They've been having them a lot in recent months, ever since the fall and rise of Elturel.

"-and all you care about is your stupid apprenticeship!" Lia shouts at him, his mind finally tuning back into the conversation- no, not a conversation, a damn shouting match.

Her words make him bristle and grind his teeth. How dare she? How dare she ever think this was all only for the apprenticeship? It's an insult to injury, knowing no matter what he does, trying to take care of them results in him being called selfish. What is selfish about wanting a better life for the three of them? They only have each other, their mother long gone. She's gone, and now he carries the sole responsibility of taking care of them.

She's gone.

"Take that back. Right now." He hisses, getting in her face as they glare each other down.

Cal immediately inserts himself in between the two of them, palms out in front of them both. "Can we all just take a moment? Please?"

Rolan idly notices the sweat gathering on Cal's temple as he pushes Lia back slightly by her shoulder, creating more space between all of them. He does the same to Rolan, but stays put in the middle to form a weak barrier- wait, who is that tiefling that approached? No, it doesn't matter.

"Hells, we can't just leave. They're kin!" Lia begs, almost pleading with him.

"I will not gamble our lives- our futures, on people who are as good as dead," He says somewhat calmly, though his tail still flicks behind him in irritation. "We must leave for Baldur's Gate at once."

Lia looks ready to bare her teeth at him, angry with him. She's always angry with him. "What's the point of blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay! These people aren't fighters, we can help!"

"Or yell louder, that's fine too," Cal says with a familiar bitterness in his tone; gods, he hates that tone on Cal. He's been hearing it more often, these days.

"Have you forgotten Elturel?" A voice breaks through, and he finally acknowledges the presence beside them.

It's another tiefling, a much larger one at that. He's not part of the refugees, as he hasn't even seen him around until now. Did he just arrive here?

This one isn't that much taller than he is, only by a few inches; but hells, his mass absolutely dwarfs his own. A fighter most likely, or even worse, a barbarian. It doesn't matter which one he may be, he looks like an idiot that isn't worth his precious time.

"We should stand by our people. You know no one else will." He says lowly, giving a knowing look of both annoyance and sadness.

He loathes that look. He’s never wanted to blast someone more than in this moment. How dare he look at him as if he was some child throwing a tantrum?

"This isn't Elturel, and I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!" He exclaims, almost furious.

Lia pokes him harshly in the chest with her pointer finger, and he has to suppress a wince. "Just be responsible for yourself, then! We have to stay; it's the right thing to do."

He hates that fucking tiefling even more now. Not only has he butted into his family affairs, but now he turned his sister- Lia, even more against him. For once, why can't things go his way? Why do they not listen to him?

When did they stop listening to him?

"Zurgan. Fine! We'll stay. If we survive, it'll make for a good story, I suppose." He airs, rubbing a finger to his temple as he feels a headache form there.

For the first time in a long time, Lia gives him a genuine smile, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing. "Thank you, Rolan.” She says sincerely.

Cal now takes the calm moment to usher the two further into the grove, seeming to want to get away from the entranceway as soon as possible; for once, Rolan lets him. He doesn't pay any mind to the strange looks they get by going further into the grove with the other refugees, and he certainly doesn't pay any mind to the oaf of a tiefling that they left standing there by himself.

He decides he hates that man, and he pisses him off to no end.

"How long until Rolan shows off his Thunderwave?" Cal asks as they settle down near an old human woman's tent, who seems to be organizing some herbs in her storage crate. Something is off about her, but Rolan can’t put his finger on it. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Lia snickers at that moment, crossing her arms over her chest. "Depends, how many people are dumb enough to ask?"

"Hah! True."

Rolan rolls his eyes, trying to dust off the dirt on his robes. He hates the smell of this damned grove, it stinks. Is he truly supposed to arrive to Lorroakan with his clothes smelling like this? He'll have to burn them, no question.

"Don't be grumpy, Rolan. We'll get to the city soon." Cal chirps, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"I am not grumpy."

"The scowl on your face would frighten a troll."

Despite the foul move he's in, he smiles at his little brother. "Heh. You're an idiot."

-----

It's been days, and that tiefling is still here.

He's heard about his many exploits; saving one of the children the druids held hostage, saving another orphan child from a group of relentless harpies, getting their money back from that tiefling brat with the eyepatch, and slaughtering Kagha. Emphasis on slaughtering.

When he came out of that grove where the ritual had stopped, he saw the amount of blood that was covering the large man. None of it was his own, he realized. The man barely had a scratch on him and seemed proud when exiting.

He caught himself staring at him many times, watching how the muscles stretched across his skin, seeing all the little imperfections. Scars, beauty spots, all the like. He internally curses himself and looks away when he feels his face growing hot.

Paying back attention to his siblings, he notices how Cal stares at the blacksmith across the way, rubbing his hands absentmindedly as he thinks of something.

"You shouldn't waste precious time on distractions. We need to head to Baldur's gate after this goblin fiasco is over." He remarks, getting up and brushing off dirt.

"Rolan." Lia warns, but he ignores her and walks away with a roll of his eyes. They need supplies, so he will go get them if they are too lazy to do so.

And, of course, the oaf is already buying them off of one of the druids. Damn it all!

"Need something?" He asks, inspecting him as if Rolan was much shorter than him.

He scoffs, even more irritated than he was originally, "I was in need of potions, but it seems you got them all already."

"What did you need?"

"It doesn't matter, you beat me to it!” He instinctively snaps, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Bloody health potions are so short of stock these days-"

Wordlessly, the man puts three large health potions into his arms, which, for once, renders Rolan speechless. He doesn’t even remember the original tangent he was about to go one. Something about price inflation, probably.

Staring down at the red potions in his arms, he snaps back into reality when he speaks again. "You three need it more than I do. I, at least, have a healer."

He sneers at him, gripping the potions tight. "So what, you look down on us?”

"Not at all."

"We are not charity cases,”He almost growls, baring his teeth. “What is your game here?"

"…Can I tell you a secret?"

Why is this his life? How did everything turn out this way? Why is he even entertaining this fool??

After a bit of contemplating his life choices, he finally responds. "What?"

The tiefling suddenly leans in to put his mouth near his ear, and gods he's so close. Tav was his name, wasn't it? He heard it in passing by one of his group mates. Balsam, rogue's morsel, and acorn truffle are what he smells on him, a strong scent that is surprisingly pleasant- gods, what is he thinking?! Feeling his face starting to heat up, he tries to take a step back, but Tav stills him with a hand on the back of his neck. It makes his breath catch in his throat.

Finally, Tav whispers to him, "I'm just being nice."

Tav pulls away, leaving Rolan completely dumbfounded as he continues. "I'm not trying to look down on you or be a pest, I just think you need the potions more than I do. Cause gods forbid these fucking druids try and help out people who need it." He spits with a roll of his eyes, staring directly at the Druid that was still besides them through this entire ordeal. He looks uncomfortable.

"Well, that is shockingly intelligent of you." He huffs, hoping the jab aggravated him. "Although, aren't you fighting a swarm of Goblins out there?"

"I am, but bold of you to assume they hit hard enough to hurt me." Before he could come up with another insult for his remark, Tav interjected. "Anyways, I have to return to my camp as it is getting late. Good luck to you and your siblings. Cal and Lia, right?"

He didn't have the chance to respond before the idiot sauntered off, back outside the grove. Great, now he's indebted to the bastard. Slowly, he stalks back into the grove, tying the potions to his belt as he does so.

-----

Some panic swept across the grove when people realized the goblin army planned to raid it for all it was worth. He's heard so many horror stories of slaughtered tieflings, their enemies sawing off their horns to keep as trophies or as foghorns.

If they think they could do the same to his family, they are sorely mistaken.

As others run and hide in Zevlor's war room, others stay to help fight, including himself. But, once again, the three of them can't stop arguing about their positions; he can tell Cal is getting pissed off, but so is he.

"I'm telling you to stay back. My Thunderwave will make short of any goblin that dares to come close. If you two are in the way, I'll knock you both over!"

"And I'm telling you to just get behind us! Spellcasters can't take a punch or a blade!" Lia shouts.

"Can we not argue over this? Please? How about we all line up together?"

"No." They both state and Cal immediately shuts up.

"Wow, you three must love each other very much." A familiar voice says sarcastically.

He grits his teeth and turns towards Tav. "Oh, piss off you oafish-"

"Wait! Wait, maybe Tav can help us out. Figure out positioning and whatnot?" Cal suggests quickly.

"Great idea Cal! Let's ask the professional harpy slayer."

Tav looks at them all, seeming to take in the equipment and weapons that they have on hand. In all honesty, Rolan didn't even think Tav could think.

Suddenly, Tav grabs Cal and moves him to the front, and in the next moment, he gently moves Lia to the back, leaving Rolan in the middle. "There. That's a good positioning."

"See? Easy!" Cal says cheerfully. "Now can we just-"

"Why can’t I be in the front with Cal?”

“Lia come on-“

“I want to be able to help out!”

Tav yawns briefly before explaining, "You will be helping, a lot. Both of you and Rolan are range users. You will hit goblins better by staying in the back where you'll be more effective. Cal here is in melee, with both a pike and a shield. He can protect you both and be your frontliner, while at the same time, you two cover his blind spot. Although, alternatively, you two could be next to each other, but stay behind him."

Rolan blinks slowly, processing the logic behind it. Damn it all, it's incredibly smart. Maybe Tav isn’t an idiot.

"There, good enough explanation?" He asks.

"It's great! Thank you, sincerely." Lia says, patting Tav's shoulder.

"…You're welcome." He pauses before putting a hand into his bag. "We'll kill those bastards out there, no doubt. But I would feel better if you all have this just in case."

Taking out a bright scroll, he holds it out to the three of them to take. Rolan instantly recognized it, especially with the unique binding on it.

A Resurrection Scroll.

Lia is the first to react and take it. "We won't need this, but thank you! Doesn't hurt to have a backup plan if things go wrong."

"I'll make sure it goes smoothly." He reassures, cracking his knuckles.

"What do you have planned, anyway?" Cal wonders aloud.

"I stole a bunch of smoke powder barrels in their camp and set them up along the perimeter. Anyways, they could be here any moment. Stay vigilant. If all goes super well, you won't even have to fight."

-----

They feel the explosions before they hear it. A deep rumbling in the ground that shakes them, awake and alert. There are so many of them that go off after the first one, like a domino effect. How many barrels could Tav have possibly gotten his hands on??

Unfortunately, those explosions didn’t stop a giant spider and some goblins from coming in.

Goblins were easy. He made quick work of them with his thunderwave, blasting them back into the stone wall. Though with his distraction of mentally stroking his own ego, he didn’t see the giant spider coming up until Cal quickly got to his side, blocking its oncoming fangs with his shield, the force of the bite splintering the wood.

His eyes widen, and he blasts a magic missile at the spider right as Lia shoots an arrow into one of its eyes. It screeches in pain, but it’s stubborn in its conviction. It lunges, and Cal cries out when it tears into his arm, trying to rip off his flesh.

Rolan shoots off another thunderwave in his anger and panic, killing the spider in an instant. He watches some of the legs get cut clean off, the body flying and crashing into some crates, destroying them, and its sickly green innards spilling onto the dirt floor. A disgusting sight, indeed.

“Cal!” Lia yells quickly, snapping Rolan back into reality and he quickly rushes over.

Cal is teary-eyed but tries to wave it off, even as Lia tries to get a better look. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Come here.” Rolan says maybe a little too harshly, making his brother sit down on a wayward crate and grabbing his elbow to hold it still.

“Rolan please-“

“You look close to crying! Just-“ He stops himself and takes a deep breath, eyes meeting his. “Let me help. Please.”

Cal sighs shakily but nods, letting his arm be lifted for him and Lia to see.

It’s a deep injury, but nothing deathly serious. It looks painful. The spider managed to inject some kind of poison, but Cal resisted whatever effect it could have taken.

Rolan takes out one of the health potions he’s received from Tav and carefully pours it over the injury, and it slowly seals the wound. No scar is left behind, surprisingly enough.

“Does it hurt?” Lia gently presses.

“Not anymore. Thanks, Rolan.”

He wants to yell at him so badly, the argument already bubbling up his throat. Why wasn’t he more careful? Why did he jump towards his side so quickly? He had it handled! He’s supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

Instead, he settles on, “You’re welcome.”

Knowing it’s safer, Cal leans against him quietly, and Rolan carefully holds him with Lia. It wasn’t even a close call, but it’s clear Cal needed some comfort.

No more enemies come through. There were no casualties, either.

Zevlor ends up making a speech at the gate when they check out the damage, and he’s sure others are inspired, but he’s barely paying attention to it. He doesn’t care, in all honestly. He wants to leave this fucking grove and never look back; it is by far the worst place they’ve ever stayed in, second to Avernus. Though, he might be being dramatic.

He found himself looking around for Tav, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Why was he looking for him, anyway?

When he finally spots him, he shouldn’t be shocked by the amount of gore he’s covered in, but he is. He’s completely drenched in blood, whether from the goblins or the Drow leading them. Some of it was his own since he spots injuries littering his frame. 

He shakes his head and straightens up, shifting his attention to his siblings and ignoring the warmth growing in his cheeks. “Now that this fiasco is over, we will head to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Are you serious Rolan?! Come on, there’s going to be a party!” Lia complains, bumping her hip with his. “We have to go.”

“We don’t have time for parties! Lorroakan is waiting for me, I cannot be late.”

“What’s one party, Rolan? It’s just for a night. We need to rest anyways.” Cal says, looking around the other excited tieflings. When was the last time they saw a crowd of them so happy? He certainly doesn't remember, and it makes his original conviction crack a little.

“I will not-“

Cal takes hold of one of his arms, tugging him. “Please, Rolan? Just for tonight.”

“There’ll be free wine, provided by the heroes.” Lia sing-songs, leaning against him and almost making him stumble.

“…Free wine?” He questions, genuinely thinking about it.

“And free food,” Cal confirms.

Gods, he hates the pathetic puppy-dog eyes that they use. He can’t stand to look at their faces, and he hates it even more that he's falling for it, just as he always has.

He sighs heavily in defeat, head hanging a little low. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Cal cheers, giving him a tight hug.

To his surprise, Lia joins in, the both of them crushing him. “Thank you, Rolan!”

He rolls his eyes but lets a smile break through, even when he can hardly breathe. “All this over a party?”

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see!”

He smirks knowingly, finally separating from the two. “All right all right, I trust that this will be an exceptional occasion. I look forward to seeing you say you love me while drunk, Lia.”

"As if, brother."

It doesn’t take long for Tav to offer up his area with his party members, so they gather with the Tieflings and head to the camp. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s secluded at least.

That bard, Alfira, starts decorating the place in an instant; lantern lights go up, colorful ribbons decorate the trees, and boxes get moved to the side. Others help out, including Lia, but Rolan and Cal sit back and relax for the time being.

When the party finally starts, they pass wine between the three of them.

“Can you give us a magic show, Master Rolan?” She teases.

Rolan rolls his eyes playfully. “Already?”

“Oh! Can you make an owl bear?? Or a dragon!” Cal suggests, scooting forward more on the log.

He stretches out his arms in front of him, cracking his knuckles while doing so. "Patience! Have you no respect for showmanship?"

"Having performance issues Rolan?" Cal whisper-shouts playfully, and Rolan idly notices Tav approaching.

He turns his nose up high momentarily before holding his hands out. "Hush, you. And behold!"

It's a brief performance, but amazing nonetheless if he says so himself. He makes it look like stars that spark, fly, and explode into various lights. He has always been irritated he could never make it last long, but that is what his training will be for.

He looks over at Tav as soon as he claps, seeing the way his eyes glide over the lights. His face doesn’t change in the slightest, so he can’t tell if his clapping is meant to be some sort of taunt or if he’s genuine.

Either way, he does a dramatic bow. "Adoring applause? You're too kind."

"Remember when he couldn't cast that?" Lia teases.

"They grow up so fast," Cal states.

"Never have I met such troglodytes. Now, pass the wine." Rolan demands, but a content smile is plastered on his face.

It seems Lia was about to offer Tav some of it, but when she and Rolan turn towards him, he’s already gone.

“Looks like he already got bored of you.” Lia sings to him.

“Oh hush up.” He huffs, snatching the wine bottle and taking a long drink.

He will never admit how much that comment stung. He doesn’t know why he was so bothered by it in the first place. There are many possibilities he goes over as he feels the alcohol give him a pleasant buzz; was it her wording, or was it the fact that Tav disappeared without a word? Did he get bored? 

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care what that man thinks of him. He swears he doesn’t.

Later in the night, he drank- no, chugged wine while Cal and Lia chatted with the other tieflings partying. As much as he loved to perform for them both, even someone as great as he gets tired after using a bunch of magic in rapid succession. 

The wine wasn’t good; nothing compares to Arabellan Dry, but what else was there to drink? He refuses to partake in ale or beer, he never found the appeal of it. Honestly, it’s disgusting, and he doesn’t understand why Lia likes it so much. Cal seems to be looking for someone in particular but isn't finding them. He looks disappointed.

As he wonders about Cal and debates checking in on him, he doesn’t notice the brute approaching him until his giant form sits next to him with his own alcohol, the bark of the fallen tree groaning from the extra weight. He covers up how it startled him quickly, tilting his head up towards the brute with a bored expression.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m here to drink.” He says nonchalantly, sipping on the wine bottle. “Impressive display of magic earlier.”

His nose scrunches up, yellow eyes settling on his flaming ones with a glare. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No. Are you self-taught?”

Of all the things he expected tonight, it wasn’t this. Tav, a person who hits things and asks questions later, is curious about him? He wonders if he has an ulterior motive.

He pushes the thought to the back burner of his brain for now but approaches the conversation cautiously. “I am! And a man with many talents, may I add. I’m going straight to Baldur’s Gate to learn from the best: The Great Lorroakan.”

He sees the imposing Tiefling roll his eyes, putting his bottle down to stare out at the water surrounding the camp. Tav looks a little different, in the moonlight. Seeing him up close is a different experience entirely, and now he can see every little detail about him, including how he was shirtless-

Wait, did he just roll his eyes?

“What?” He demands, posture straightening as he grows defensive.

“Nothing. Just heard he’s a cad is all.” He mutters, deciding to pick the bottle back up and taking a long swig.

“Common gossip and rumors! He’s the greatest wizard in all of Baldur’s Gate. I’ve never imagined he would answer my letters.” He states with a happy sigh, idly swirling the liquid in his bottle. “I will become his apprentice as soon as I arrive. I cannot be late, yet Cal and Lia insist that this party is a wonderful idea. An adoring crowd, fine wine - I daresay this place is almost civilized.”

“Do you regret staying?”

“Of course I do. But Cal and Lia…” He trails off for only a moment but snaps back to it. “They deserve to have some fun for a little while. We’ll leave at dawn, either way.”

The Tiefling stares at him for a moment, seeming to be searching his face. For what, Rolan had no idea. Some kind of lie, perhaps?

“All right then. Good luck to you.” Tav eventually settles on.

“…That’s it??” He exasperates.

“If you’re looking for someone to argue with, find someone else.”

“You-“

“You talk too much.”

He settles a death glare on Tav's form. “Prick.”

Tav slowly looks at him with his own glare, determined to play his game. “Entitled fuck.”

“Dumb oaf.”

“Prickly bastard.”

They both stare each other down, faces too close but neither of them breaks their stare. He feels Tav's hot breath ghosting over his lips, and the tension could be cut with a knife.

“You’re insufferable.” Tav huffs, suddenly gripping Rolan’s jaw and kissing him firmly.

He moans in surprise at the force but isn’t against it. In fact, his face gets incredibly red before he remembers he can kiss back.

It’s not like this is his first kiss. He’s given and received kisses before, he’s not some kind of reserved prude. But this is the first one that’s so heavy. Hot. He’s completely out of practice and can do nothing but grip Tav's thicker forearm.

Something about being desirable to Tav makes him throb in his pants, though it also may be the way Tav's tongue is tracing his bottom lip, seeking entry.

Tav's free hand trails to his rear and squeezes, making him inhale sharply; a perfect opportunity for Tav to slide his tongue in to taste him. He knows he's losing his composure and by extension, himself, but what's the harm in indulging in this? It's pathetic, but he's never felt so desired up until this moment, even if this ends up being a fling.

Why did the thought of this being a fling make him feel hollow?

He pulls away to give himself space and to breathe, but Tav doesn't pause, kissing along his jaw and ear. "My tent is west of here if you're interested. No one will hear us."

He shudders at the feeling of sharp teeth grazing the edge of his ear, teasing and provoking. Swallowing, he nods, and Tav pulls him away from the party towards a more secluded part of the area. He hopes that Lia and Cal didn't see him, but they most likely did. He’ll never hear the end of it when he returns.

Almost clumsily, Rolan finds himself in Tav’s tent quickly after, their kissing getting more heated between them. It was a strange feeling, exchanging breaths with someone else, but it felt good. Better than he thought.

They settle down on the floor of the tent, him sitting in Tav’s lap as they continue their make-out. Their tongues dance almost…lovingly. No, he can’t be reading into it right. They barely know each other; he's overthinking again.

He feels his large hands attempting to find the hem of his robes, and he seems to find it quickly as if from experience. Fingers start to dance across the bare skin of his back, running up the ridges of his spine. He sighs out shakily, goosebumps prickling out as his tail anxiously flicks about. Nerves hit him like a loose carriage, fast and suddenly, settling into the pit of his stomach. He felt cold, heart racing a mile a minute.

Why? This was good. Everything was good. This was supposed to feel good.

Why isn’t it?

He’ll give it time. It’s normal to be nervous about this kind of thing, right? Most definitely his lack of experience is a contributor, and doesn’t he deserve this after all his hardship? What’s the harm in pleasure for at least a night.

He feels his back hit the bedroll, warm calloused hands trailing over to the front of his body instead. Their kisses were feverish, desperate, and pent-up. All Rolan could do was grip the bedding below him as nails teased the textured skin of his sternum, a hand rolling a nipple between two fingers.

Tav’s lips go to his neck, finger tips trailing teasingly down his stomach before he begins to palm at his crotch through his smalls-

He can’t do it.

A cold sweat beads on the back of Rolan’s neck, panic and bile rising in his throat as it closes. He can’t do it, and he quickly grabs Tav’s arm with a death grip with wide eyes. “W-Wait, stop!”

Tav immediately gets his hands off of him, giving him space to move. His head reels from the sudden adrenaline, but also because Tav’s stoic demeanor is no longer present, and the man genuinely looks concerned. Fearful, even. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No.” He reassures quickly, but his vulnerable mind is scattered and unfocused as he sits up.

There’s so many reasons why he couldn’t do this, but he can’t pin one down. Surely, Tav deserves an explanation, so he rushes to think of one.

It’s too soon, he hasn’t done this before, and this isn’t the place for it, he’s not a degenerate, his siblings are nearby, Tav is too imposing, it might hurt, it’s too vulnerable, he’s never been with a man, he’s never been with anyone, this is the wrong place to do it, he’s a coward, he’s scared-

“I can’t.” He grimaces, with no actual reason good enough to say out loud. Part of him is worried about what Tav would say; would he be upset with him? On one hand, if he does, Rolan knows that Tav was never worth his time. But on the other, he found Tav not as insufferable as he thought, and he may have just ruined the strange bond they made by stopping everything. Gods, he is pathetic, isn’t he?

Tav sighs slowly in relief, sitting back. “That’s okay.”

It’s not good enough, not for Rolan. As a wizard, he demands answers for a multitude of reasons when things happen. It’s only fair that he gives an explanation, is it not? Finally, he pins down a reason he could give: he doesn’t want to do it after having so much wine. There, that should do it.

Before he could start his tangent, he felt a hand cover his mouth.

“I don’t need a reason. It’s okay.”

He’s about to argue, completely insulted, but it gets muffled by the hand on his mouth.

“You don’t ever have to explain to me why you want to stop.” He says, finally moving his hand away. “I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t say no to me earlier.”

“I did want it.” He assured quickly, because he did. He truly did. Why did he panic?

“But you changed your mind.” He began, not unkindly.

“I did.”

“That’s fine.” He says with a small shrug. “If you want, we can keep kissing. Nothing further than that.”

He laughs in disbelief, running a hand down his sweaty face. “And why would we do that?”

“Doesn’t hurt to have company for a night. Besides-“ He gently takes hold of his chin, tilting his face up. “You seemed to enjoy what we were doing. Why not indulge? Just for one night.”

He smirks up at him, leaning forward with false confidence. “Am I that irresistible?”

“You have a pretty face.” He noted, swiping his thumb across his kiss-bruised lip before kissing him again.

The kiss is lazy and less heated, but it makes his heart pound all the same. Being held so tenderly is new, and he’s growing attached.

He cannot have attachments. What is he thinking? 

After kissing for a little longer, he lets himself be held in the bedroll as they lay down, indulging in the quiet night with Tav. They didn’t need to discuss what happened or question it. It’s exchanging favors. For Rolan, it’s just wanting the comfort of another body near him, letting him pretend that he’ll have something like this in the future. One day, he’ll be good enough for someone. He’s not sure what this does for Tav exactly, but he seems content to hold him.

“You can ask for more if you’d like.”

“I’d rather not embarrass myself more than I already have.” He barks before glancing at him in apology, eyes softer.

“Would it help if I said I will keep my mouth shut about this?” Tav suggested, pushing some hair away from his face.

He shifts to glance at his face, seeing if he is genuine. He can never read his face that well, but when he makes his judgment, he sighs and takes one of Tav’s hands, lacing his fingers through his.

“This is pathetic, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” He mumbles, squeezing his hand. “This is nice for me, too.”

Rolan feels himself relax more, body almost relieved that this hasn’t been rejected.

“What will you do, when you finally get your apprenticeship figured out?” Tav asks in the quiet.

“I’ll learn everything I can about all schools of magic. Then I can put on a real show for Cal and Lia.”

“They seem to love your shows already, why change them?”

“It’ll be different.” He pledged, “Bigger, better, and more sustainable. I’ll make them last so much longer, I’ll bring it more colors, and the illusion will look realistic. You will see.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great.” He yawns, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“I will show you when you reach to Baldur’s Gate, my friend.”

There’s no response, only a quiet snore greets him. At first, he’s annoyed, but it’s hard to be angry when he is just as exhausted from today. For now, he falls asleep in his arms, hoping that for once no nightmares haunt him.

The Tiefling beside him is still fast asleep when he wakes at dawn, though he’s impressed by how the man can sleep through the screeching birds outside.

Quickly, he fixes his robes and hair, trying to not look like a mess. Cal and Lia are surely going to tease him, knowing he never returned to their tent. He debates on whether to wake the idiot up to say goodbye, but that seems foolish. He needs to sleep, and they need to head to Baldur’s gate immediately.

So he opens the tent, sparing one more look back before leaving.

He cannot create attachments. Not now, not ever. Not until he’s done with his apprenticeship.

#forest-writes #holy rolan empire #rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 #rolan x tav #cal #lia #rolan fanfic #rolan brainrot

[illiterateaffairs]

behind the scenes chapter one | i enjoyed our meet cute

masterlist | next

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 4,722

summary: you’ve been in richmond one day and you’re already having chance encounters with famous british football players, what are the odds?

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of my new jamie series, behind the scenes! fake dating is a god tier trope and i’ve always wanted to write something for it. it will also be very rom-com-y, just like ted would like. i really hope you enjoy the first chapter, i’m so excited to kick off this new story and can’t wait to hear your thoughts. also wanted to shout out @buckychristwrites​ who wrote an incredible fake dating jamie series called could this be and you should totally check it out if you haven’t already ♡

Your alarm goes off at 8AM on the dot but you’re already wide awake. You’ve been in London for 48 hours and instead of taking in the sights, you’ve been trying to reset your sleep schedule. After landing at 10AM Friday morning, you pretty much passed right out as soon as you arrived at your rented, two story brownstone. 

See, London was eight hours ahead of Los Angeles - your home base. While you were used to traveling for work, you’d never had a job in another country before. And jet lag was a bitch.

You’re an actor. You have been since you were 15, when you got a recurring role on a kids show after an opening casting call. Some called it luck, but you called it busting your ass in theater classes as soon as your mom could afford them. You’d been a “drama queen” since you were in diapers and you begged her to sign you up for every class, camp and play in your small town and she did everything she could to support your dream. She’s your biggest fan.

By the time you were 20, you’d had a sitcom and several supporting roles in films that made you an underrated fan favorite. Your biggest break came, though, when you were 22 and were given the opportunity to star opposite A-list actors in the superhero film of the summer. After that you blew up, you did a few more action movies and a couple other dramas. 

Now, freshly 25, with a lot of credits filling your IMDb page, there was one genre you still hadn’t tackled: romance. And that’s what brought you to London. You were filming your first romantic comedy in the beautiful town of Richmond. Usually when your job brought you to a new place, the first thing you wanted to do was explore it. However, spending the last couple days in and out of sleep was preventing you from doing so. Today was Sunday, your last day before production kicked off tomorrow, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get the chance to get out and do something before you were swamped with work.

You get ready quickly, eager to not waste another second inside. However, just as you swing your front door open, you come face to face with your assistant, who’s hand is poised to knock. 

“Oh, good, you’re already up,” she chirps, brushing past you and into your temporary home as she taps away on her iPhone. 

“Margot, I thought we agreed on no work this weekend,” you sigh, reluctantly following her into your living room.

“I agreed and you agreed, but Harry on the other hand,” she frowns holding up her phone, “He didn’t agree.”

You groan. Harry was your publicist. You’ve worked with him since getting the role in one of the Spiderman movies. He always had some crazy idea how to boost your public image, most of which you’ve shot down, but his most recent pitch he hasn’t been able to let go of. 

“He’s still bugging you about that shit?” you question, flopping down in an armchair. 

Margot perches on the arm of the sofa, “He’s only bugging me because you keep ignoring him. He still thinks it's a good idea.”

The good idea in question was agreeing to a fake relationship with another celebrity - or anyone really. Usually the goal of a PR relationship was to gain attention for one or both parties, or their upcoming projects. While that wouldn’t hurt, your publicist thought the benefit of having a fake boyfriend was that you’d appear more desirable. 

In your previous roles, you’d been typecast as the funny best friend or snarky sidekick. Not only was this movie you were about to film your first as the leading lady, it was the first where you were playing a romantic lead. You also haven’t been known to be seen with many suitors in your personal life as well. Not that you hadn’t had any significant others since entering the spotlight, but they’d been short lived and you tried to keep those relationships under the radar, not necessarily wanting the public’s opinion on your dating life. 

Of course, that didn’t stop journalists and people with Twitter accounts from speaking on it anyway. Since you got cast in this Rom-Com - Hopeless Romantics was the working title - you’d been subjected to criticism over how you couldn’t possibly be seen as a realistic love interest when you’ve yet to be painted as such both on and off the screen. Though, you’d love to point out that just because you hadn’t played a romantically driven character before didn’t mean you couldn’t now. You’ve learned to just ignore trolls like that. 

That didn’t mean from time to time the odd comment didn’t get under your skin. 

Still, you didn’t see the point in faking a relationship just to get these people off your back. You had the best fans in the world, who’d watch you do anything no matter the genre. And your co-star was Charlie Knox, who’d been pegged as this generation's Hugh Grant, so plenty of people would be buying tickets regardless. You could hardly argue, feeling flushed after your chemistry reed with the actor even though he was doing just that; acting. Harry had even previously suggested faking a relationship with him, which would be the perfect scenario according to him, but Charlie was of course already taken. 

“He’s going to have to give up eventually,” you shake your head, “Because I’m not doing it.” Margot makes a weird face and you tilt your head, “Don’t tell me you think I should do it.”

“No, of course not. You should have the autonomy to make your own decisions about your love life, real or fake,” she insists, “I just wish Harry didn’t make such a big deal about it.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry he’s bugging you about it. I can talk to him again.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Margot sighs, “You should be enjoying your day off. Were you on your way out before? What were you thinking of doing?”

You shrug, not really having had a game plan, “I was thinking breakfast or something to start, and then seeing where the day takes me.”

She nods, once again tapping on her phone, “That sounds nice. Don’t be out too late, though. A car will be here to get you at 6AM for the read through.” As she stands up and starts walking to your door, she glances at you, “And wear a hat please. Last thing we need is you to be stampeded by fans like in The Lion King.”

“Margot, I love you, but there is no need to bring Mufasa into this,” you tease, “I promise I will be discreet, but only if you promise me you will also take time for yourself today.”

“I promise,” she says with a small smile, but before you know it, she's already back on the phone and out your door. 

You can’t be too hard on her. You were also known to prioritize your work over everything else most days. But she was not only the best assistant you could ask for, she was also one of your closest friends, and she deserved some time off. You’d have to talk to Harry at some point tomorrow to get him off her back. And yours. 

But first, food.

It had been one month - one fucking month - since Keeley had gotten back together with Roy. And it was the worst month of Jamie’s life. 

Yes, he still has feelings for Keeley. Yes, it hurt him to see her choose Roy, even if it had nothing to do with him. And it was twice as bad that Roy and him had finally started becoming actual friends after all these years. But that wasn’t really the problem. 

It was the way everyone has been looking at him since it happened.

It started with the apologetic look on Keeley’s face that greeted him when he answered the door one summer morning. Before she could get a word out, he knew what she was going to say. In fact, he’d seen it coming. Despite Keeley insisting she wasn’t choosing between him and the grumpy old fart who was now his head coach, the two had been spending more and more time together. Keeley was around the club more and Roy was less grumpy. That morning, Keeley told him she wanted him to hear it from her that they were thinking of starting things again. His stomach twisted, disappointed that he’d practically lost her for the second time. But, God, the look of sympathy she was giving him felt even worse.

That was nothing compared to the way Roy looked at him when he walked into the locker room later that day. Roy wasn’t one to talk about or express his feelings, but he still managed to somehow convey his guilt and apology through a single look. Jamie just shook his head, eager to not speak a single word about the topic and move on. For the first time he wished Roy would just yell at him like he usually did. 

Then a week later, Roy and Keeley were publicly a couple again. The rest of the team and staff were elated, but the few who’d known Jamie had been pining for the bubbly blonde again looked on at him sympathetically, patting him on the back and muttering affirmations on the way to training. In the grand scheme of things, they were just being nice, but he fucking hated it.

He was Jamie Fucking Tartt. He could be with anyone he wanted. Sure, the only girl who’s liked him for him and the only one he’s truly loved would rather be with someone else; someone else who was one of his best friends now. So what? The last thing he wanted was everyone around him treating him like a wounded puppy. He was fine.

It didn’t help that he saw Keeley and Roy all the time. At work. At team celebrations. At friendly gatherings. They were everywhere. In fact, they went the extra mile to include him in things to make him feel better, though it had the opposite effect. He felt like a charity case. He didn’t need them babysitting him, like he couldn’t spend a single night alone without collapsing into a full mental breakdown. 

To be fair, the last time he’d had a night to himself, he’d made the mistake of turning on The Notebook for the first time out of morbid curiosity and he wept for an hour. But it was The Notebook for fuck’s sake, what else was he going to do?

Things improved little by little as the weeks had gone by. Sam and Colin stopped giving him glances everytime Keeley visited the locker room to drop something off for Roy. Keeley stopped looking at him with guilt riddled eyes, but there was still a weird energy between them when they hung out. And with Roy things felt mostly normal. 

At least he thought so, but this morning Jamie’s been wandering around his house aimlessly waiting for Roy to show up for their regular early morning training. He’d been ready at promptly 4AM but there was no sign of his coach. He waited thirty minutes before calling but no answer. So, he plopped on the couch and watched some cooking show for another hour or so before trying again. It wasn’t until 8AM - four hours later - he got a call back from Roy.

“Hey, I thought old people were usually up early,” Jamie teased upon answering, “Did you oversleep, grandad?”

Instead of Roy’s gravelly voice responding, he hears another familiar voice in the background, “Is that Jamie? Tell him I’m sorry.”

Keeley.

Jamie’s stomach twists. Of course.

“Uh, yeah,” Roy’s voice eventually says, “Keeley was here and I forgot to set an alarm. We were going to get breakfast but then we can meet at the park if you still want?”

Roy grunts as Keeley speaks up again, voice distant, “Oi, ask if he wants to join us.”

Roy sighs into the phone, “Yeah, unless you want to come to breakfast with us?”

Jamie closes his eyes. Another pity invite. “Um, thanks mate. That’s alright, though. Think I’ll get some running in on my own and maybe we can meet up later tonight.”

“Yeah, that works…” Roy says before tacking on, “Sorry, Jamie.”

Jamie chuckles humorlessly, “Not a problem. Talk to ya later.”

He hangs up and tosses his phone across the couch. Not only did Jamie not like feeling like a third wheel, he didn’t like being one because the other two felt guilty. Especially when he was still getting over his feelings for one of them. He groans, forcing himself off the couch, eager to stay true to his word. He needed to run off these feelings. 

You’d been leisurely walking through the streets of Richmond for a little while, enjoying the early fall breeze and the sights as the leaves started to change color. You’ve been trying to keep an eye out for a place to grab breakfast or a snack, but you’ve been distracted by the shops and the people walking around you. For your part, you were donned in sunglasses with a ball cap tilted low on your head. So far no one has stopped you, which was nice. Not that you minded meeting the occasional fan. Most were sweet and you adored connecting with people face to face, but there was always the risk of someone just in search of an autograph or selfie despite not caring about you or your work, not to mention nosy paparazzi who pop out of nowhere to get a photo. So, you’re enjoying the semblance of normalcy while you can. You sense that once filming starts, those in the area will be eager to catch a glimpse of you and your costars any chance they get. 

You’re a little too comfortable with flying under the radar, when as you’re turning a street corner someone runs right smack into you. You both fall to the ground, your sunglasses flying clear off your face. Your heart hammers in your chest, wondering if someone had done this on purpose, but the stranger next to you also appears to be scrambling. 

“Fuck, sorry,” they mutter, grabbing your discarded sunglasses for you before pulling you both up. As he places the glasses back in your hands, his eyes meet yours for the first time, “Oh shit, are you…”

You smile sheepishly, his eyes alight with recognition. You’re still a little anxious from the encounter, as you try to get your breathing to return to normal. You vaguely wonder if this guy is going to ask for a picture or something, when you actually hear the familiar click of a camera and your blood runs cold. 

“Hey Jamie Tartt!” an accented man calls, “Who’s the girl, Jamie?

The man in front of you looks back at you with wide eyes and grabs your hand, “Shit, come with me.”

You can barely process what he’d said as he pulled you down the street, “What? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” he explains as you continue jogging alongside him, “Where there’s one paparazzi, ten will follow. But I’m sure you know that.”

You can’t argue with him. But you do wonder who the hell this guy is that he’s so familiar with paparazzi. You also briefly consider if following a guy you’ve never met through alleyways is a smart decision, but you hardly have the time to dwell on it. 

After a few minutes, this mystery guy, who you can only presume is named Jamie if the paparazzi was right, leads you through an unassuming storefront that ends up being a charming and quaint little café. You look around curiously. It’s not completely vacant, but the patrons don’t bat an eye when the two of you enter. The middle aged barista behind the counter looks at your companion with a warm smile and greets him, once again, by Jamie.

After your heart rate returns to normal, you turn to the man beside you. He gives you a tiny shrug, “I come here when I don’t want to be bothered. Not many people know about this place but it has the best scones in Richmond.”

You squint at him in curiosity, “So, I’m guessing you’re…someone of note then, too? If that paparazzi was taking your picture and you have a secret hideout.”

He chuckles, looking a little bashful, which you have a feeling is out of character for this guy, “Uh, yeah, I’m Jamie Tartt? Premier League footballer for AFC Richmond?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Oh, uh, sorry, I’m not really familiar with…”

He cuts you off, “No need to apologize. Wouldn’t expect an actress from the states to know anything about English football.”

You chuckle, despite yourself, “Well, if it helps I don’t know much about American football either. Or any sport for that matter.”

Jamie’s lips quirk up again, “I know you, though. From that thing.”

You snort, “Well, I’ve done a couple of things.”

He shakes his head, “No, no, no, you’re in that one movie, what’s it called,” he snaps his fingers, “Meet Me in Melrose, that's the one!”

“Wow, that’s a deep cut,” you comment, the film being an indie you worked on years ago; one of your first bigger roles despite the lower budget project.

“Yeah, my old coach? It was one of his favorites, so the whole team became obsessed. We’ve watched a bunch of your stuff,” he explains.

“That’s cool,” you nod with a small smile.

He nods along with you before suddenly becoming very aware of his situation, “Uh, can I order you something? Or, shit, you probably had somewhere to be. I usually try to wait things out for a while here, but if you have to go…”

You once again consider the oddity of casually hanging out in a cafe with a man you just met, but he seems trustworthy enough. And even a bit intriguing.

So you respond, “No, I don’t. I was just out exploring before. I was actually looking for a place to eat so this is perfect. I’m happy to hang out here for a bit.”

“Okay, cool,” Jamie nods again, still feeling a bit unsure of what to do when a Hollywood movie star is suddenly in your midst, “Uh, do you like coffee? Tea?”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to buy anything for me.”

“Well, I was the one who crashed into you and abducted you here so it’s the least I can do.”

You giggle, “Okay fine, I’ll take a hot chocolate. Coffee makes me anxious and tea tastes like a worse version of water. No offense.”

Jamie laughs to himself before walking up to the counter to order for you both. He returns moments later with a hot chocolate for you and coffee for him, as well as two of those scones he mentioned, before leading you over to a small booth in the back of the cafe. 

“So, uh, you must come here often if the staff knows your name,” you say as you blow on your drink for it to cool, “Unless they’re all soccer - sorry - football fans?”

“Actually, Olive, the owner of the café doesn’t know shit about football. It's part of the appeal,” he tells you, “I manage to avoid photographers most of the time, but even if they’re not hounding me, I still like to come here to get away from things.”

“That makes sense. I feel like it's hard to do that in LA. Even the small businesses are overrun with influencers trying to find the trendiest spot nowadays,” you muse.

“Is that where you live? LA?” he asks.

“Mhm. Have you been?” 

“Nah. Been to New York before, but spent most of my time in some clubs,” he tells you, “Have you been to London before?”

“No, actually,” you admit, “I’ve always wanted to come but never got around to it. I’m actually here for a film.”

“Oh, yeah, a Rom-Com, right?” he asks and you nod, “It’s all anyone can talk about around the club these days. We’ve never had a big movie shoot in Richmond before.”

“Hmm, wait til everyone hears how you kidnapped one of the stars,” you joke, finally braving a sip of your drink.

Jamie laughs, “I think I’ll keep that one to myself. Plus, I don’t think they’d even believe me.”

You laugh along with him, thoroughly enjoying his company as well as the delicious cocoa. You also finally try the scone Jamie placed in front of you. Your eyes light up after the first bite.

“Is that blueberry?”

Jamie’s eyes widened, “Sorry, I should have asked…”

You furiously shake your head, “No, no, don’t apologize. I love blueberry.”

Jamie’s lips quirk up, “Me, too. It’s my favorite.”

You smile back, but it drops when you feel your phone buzzing in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see that you had a missed call from Harry along with a few text messages. Instead of responding, you roll your eyes and put it away, eager to forget that the man exists until tomorrow.

“Uh, everything okay?” Jamie asks tentatively. 

“Oh, yeah,” you reassure, plastering another smile on your face. Then you find a part of yourself that desperately wants to vent about your situation to an unbiased party, “Actually, uh, I’m not sure how much pressure football players are under for their image, but have you ever been asked or been in a fake relationship for PR?”

Jamie leans back, processing the question, “Uh, no. I haven’t really had a problem finding my own girlfriends.”

You snort, “Of course.”

“But I’ve heard of it happening with other footballers,” Jamie adds, “And there was this whole reality dating show I did and none of that was real.”

You gasp, “You were on a dating show?”

Jamie nods reluctantly, “Yeah. It was called Lust Conquers All. It was a low point.”

You can’t help but laugh, “Wow, I’ll have to check it out.”

“Please don’t,” Jamie groans, rubbing a hand over his face, wondering what possessed him to even bring it up.

After your laughter quells, Jamie eyes you curiously, “Why do you ask? About PR relationships, I mean.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands in your lap as you answer, “My publicist wants me to do the whole fake relationship thing.”

Jamie’s eyebrows furrow, “Why?”

You shrug, not eager to admit but still wanting to know his take nonetheless, “Apparently, I don’t seem like a romantic person, because I haven’t done a romantic role or publicly dated someone before.”

Jamie continues to look confused, “So? Isn’t that what actors do? Play new roles even if they haven’t done it before?”

“Yes, thank you,” you agree, nodding furiously, “But since I’ve only played cynical or sarcastic characters, that’s how people see me. Apparently, I don’t seem like a good choice for a movie called Hopeless Romantics.”

“But you’re not like your other characters in real life right?” he asks, “You’re not completely cynical about romance.”

You falter, your eyes flitting away from his. Jamie scoffs.

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re anti-romance.”

“I’m not,” you sputter, “I just think dating is a little more complicated than the movies make it seem.”

Jamie doesn’t listen, “Wow, I can see why your publicist thinks you need a fake boyfriend for this to be a little more realistic. You can’t be against love and in a movie about love.”

You gasp, lightly shoving him, “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m not against love. It’s just…hard to come by for me.” You sigh, trying to figure out what exactly you’re willing to admit, “The last few guys I’ve dated weren't so great. They either only wanted to date me for the exposure or connections or money.”

Jamie’s expression sobers, “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you nod, “My last relationship, if you could even call it that, was so short lived. It ended because he stole this fancy vase thing from my house.”

“Wow,” Jamie whispers.

“And jokes on him, it was from pottery barn,” you huff, “But yeah, basically its not love I don’t believe in. It’s other people. So I’ve been pretty content to be on my own these days.”

“I get that,” Jamie says softly after a beat, “I’ve dated plenty of girls who only wanted me cause I’m a footballer. Or cause I’m great at sex,” you snort, shaking your head, but he continues, “Not that I really wanted a real relationship, but it still hurts when someone doesn’t want you for you.”

“Exactly,” you nod, picking off pieces of your scone, “I’ve never been with someone who felt genuine. Have you?”

Jamie sighs and you sense there’s a story there, “Once, but I fucked it up. Didn’t realize what I had until it was gone. Classic right?”

You huff lightly.

“The worst part is she was kind enough to stay my friend even after the way I treated her,” he continues, “So not only does she treat me with kindness that I definitely don’t deserve, but I have to sit by and watch her be with someone else.”

You frown, “That must make it hard to move on.”

“You have no idea,” he chuckles humorlessly. 

“And you haven’t been with anyone else since?”

“A couple girls, but nothing serious. And no one recently. Haven’t really seen the point.”

“So I guess I’m not the only one who might be a little cynical then, huh?” you ask with a teasing smile.

He gives you a half smile. “Yeah, I guess I can’t be one to judge.”

You study him for a few more moments. After your introductions, you would have guessed Jamie Tartt was another classic playboy athlete, and after conversing with him that seemed to be his reputation. But now you weren’t so sure. He was…peculiar. 

You continue chatting for a while longer. He tells you more about his football team and you tell him a few spoiler-free details about the movie you’re shooting. Before you know it, you’d been camped out in this cafe with Jamie for a full hour. Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself. You had to imagine the paparazzi had to have left the area by now. And while you weren’t in a hurry to cut your conversation short, your hot chocolate was no longer hot and your scone was long gone. 

“Hey, this place is really nice by the way,” you comment, as you gather your trash, “I might have to come back here. That is, if you don’t mind sharing your secret hide away with me for the next three months?”

Jamie chuckles, following you back to the front of the café. “Feel free.”

You smile at him softly, as you walk out the door, “Maybe, I’ll uh, see you around?”

He shrugs his shoulder, “Yeah, I’ll be around. Maybe you could catch a football match while you’re in town.”

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” you nod, “Well, thank you again for the rescue. I owe you one.”

“Nah, it was nothing. Get home safe, yeah?”

“You, too. Bye Jamie.”

He bids you farewell, before you two reluctantly turn and head in different directions. You wrinkle your nose, recapping your encounter in your head. What a random coincidence to run into an apparent famed football star on your first day in town. You wonder if you ever will run into him again, but you assume the odds of that are low.

Meanwhile, on his walk home, Jamie is questioning whether or not he should have asked for your number. In a strictly platonic sense, just to keep in touch or to be available in case you needed a friend while you were in town. But he brushes the thought away. Like a famous actress would want to willingly hang out with him if she wasn’t hiding from paparazzi. Yeah right. Odds are this was all a dream and the boys would laugh in his face if he brought it up tomorrow. 

Real or not real, he’d remember your morning together fondly. 

a/n: please let me know any and all those! again, so excited for this story and brand new journey for jamie x reader. also! i will be starting a fresh taglist for this story, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged. the distractions taglist will stay the same for any one shots i may continue to post in that universe. <3

taglist: @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog​ @royalestrellas​

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #mine #behind the scenes series

[kailyn-writes]

Us || Tyson Jost x Reader

Pairing: Tyson Jost x Reader

Author's note: This is for @one-night-story for @antoineroussel's Summer Fic exchange! I loved writing this so much and I truly hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did brainstorming/writing it!!

Warnings: alcohol mentions/drinking, mutual pining, Tyson being an idiot, a little bit of angst but nothing too crazy!

Word Count: 8k (whew! I think this is the longest fic I've ever written)

It took you much longer to get settled in Minnesota than you would’ve thought. After a full year of living in the city, you were just now starting to get out and make friends. It wasn’t entirely your fault, though. Work had you swamped constantly, something that was just starting to alleviate since you were no longer the ‘new girl’ at your job. 

It also helped that one of your college friends had moved to the area for a job as well and was now dragging you out every weekend. You weren’t as much of a partier as Emily, but you had to admit that she was fun and your friend group had definitely grown because of her. 

You see, Emily had started dating Matt Dumba only a couple of months after she’d moved out to Minnesota. They’d met at a bar one evening, and soon Emily was introducing you to him and his teammates. 

You’d grown used to hanging out with the guys, and several of them had become protective of you, especially after your most recent boyfriend. 

You had started dating Jason before Emily moved to Minnesota and once she did, it was like he became an entirely different person. He was jealous and controlling, possessive. He stopped going out with you and Emily after she met Matt and he never wanted you to go out with them either, but you did. 

Jason never hit you, but you were honestly a little afraid of him. He had a temper and he liked to throw things at you when he was angry. You were really thankful when Matt and a couple of his teammates came and helped you get your stuff out of his apartment. 

That was almost two months ago and you hadn’t been out with Emily and Matt since. Every time she invited you, you told her that you had to work or you just weren’t ready to get back out there. She never pushed you too hard, but after almost three full months, she was not taking no for an answer. 

That’s how you ended up at your favorite bar on a Friday night, after a win for the Wild. Emily had accompanied you to the game, teasing you as the guys skated by and waved, your cheeks flushing with warmth with every smile and wink sent your way. 

You and Emily were the first two to arrive to the bar, so she went to snag a couple of tables, while you went to the bar to order drinks. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man approach and settle himself at the bar next to you. You could feel his eyes on you, but you kept yours locked on a fixture behind the bar, hoping he would get the hint. 

“Do you believe in love at first sight—or should I walk by again?” You raise your brows at the man next to you, fighting a smile. 

Before you can respond, though, Matt Dumba is clapping his hands on the man’s shoulders, grinning. 

“Is Tyson here bothering you? Because I can easily make him go away.” Matt grins at you, teasingly squeezing Tyson’s shoulder. Tyson’s brows raise as he looks between you and Matt. 

“You two know each other?” Tyson asks, confused. 

“This is Emily’s best friend. Tread lightly, we like her more than we like you, Tyson.” Matt jokes, moving to wrap an arm around your shoulder. You smile sweetly at Tyson, who just chuckles. 

“Alright, off-limits, got it.” He says, nodding. 

“I do believe that is for me to decide.” You finally speak up, smiling. Matt chuckles, nodding. 

“And what do you say, totally off-limits?” Tyson asks, smirking. 

“I wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize your relationship with your teammates, and like Matt said, they do like me better, so.” You shrug, teasing. Tyson chuckles, nodding. The three of you are interrupted by the bartender setting drinks in front of you, and you hand Emily’s drink to Matt. 

“Take this to your girlfriend, tell her I’ll be over in a few minutes.” You instruct Matt, who nods, taking the shot and the drink from you. You take your shot, setting the glass back down on the bartop. “Don’t take Matt too seriously, Tyson. I don’t actually think they like me better than you.” 

“I don’t know about that, but I don’t doubt that he’d kick my ass if he thought I hurt you.” Tyson says jokingly, and you chuckle.

“Good thing you won’t, right?” You ask and he nods. You grab your drink, giving him a small wave before walking back to the tables Emily had saved, grinning when some of the other guys on the team greet you excitedly. 

Brandon pulls you down to sit beside him, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he clinks his beer against your glass, grinning. 

“Was that Tyson you were just talking to?” He asks, tilting his head down so you could hear him. You nod and he grins, nodding in approval.

“He’s a good dude. Just got traded here a couple weeks ago. Could use a friend.” He says and you raise your brows, chuckling.

“Are you trying to set me up, Duhaime?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“Nah, just don’t wanna see you with a dude like Jason again.” He says, and you furrow your brows. You’re not sure where this is coming from, but Brandon drops it a second later, laughing at something Boldy says from across the table. 

Shortly after 1 AM, you make the decision to head out, standing up from your spot at the booth. Tyson had joined the group a couple of minutes after you had ventured over, taking the seat across from you. He stands up as well, letting Emily out from her spot. She pulls you into a hug and you roll your eyes, though you hug her back. 

You say your goodbyes to the group, ruffling hair and patting shoulders as you make your way around the table. Duhaime ruffles your hair back, promising you a puck at the next game, though all of the boys know that anytime they toss you a puck, you hand it to a kid nearby. 

Before you can leave, though, Tyson says he’s gonna head out as well, brows raising as the guys holler and whistle, teasing the two of you. 

“You wanna share an Uber?” Tyson asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket as the two of you head towards the exit.

“Sure.” You say and he nods, holding the door open for you. You step out into the cool night air, goosebumps prickling your skin immediately. You take a deep breath and release it, feeling the stuffiness of the bar leave you. 

Tyson hands you his phone to input your address, your place being the first stop. You type it in before handing it back to Tyson, who’s brows furrow in confusion before he looks up at you.

“Is this where you live?” He asks.

“Uh, yeah. That’s why I typed it in.” You say, chuckling softly. 

“That’s where I live. I just moved in last week.” Tyson says and you raise your brows, surprised.

“Really? Well, I guess that worked out well for us.” You smile and he nods, smiling at you.

A couple of minutes later the Uber pulls up and the two of you get in, only after confirming that this was your driver. 

“So, you just got traded here?” You ask Tyson and he nods, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I got here about three weeks ago. From Colorado.” He says and you murmur an ‘ah’.

“You played for the Avalanche?” You ask and he raises his brows at you, surprised.

“You watch hockey?” He asks and you can’t help but giggle.

“I only started because Emily drug me to Matt’s games, but now I kind of enjoy it.” You explain and he laughs. 

The two of you make small talk for the rest of the ride, both of you slowly becoming more and more comfortable with each other. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you wait for the elevator, though, both of you distinctly aware of the night coming to a close. 

Tyson lets you step on first, following quickly behind. You push the button for the third floor before looking over at Tyson.

“I’m on the third floor as well.” He says, nodding. You smile, before stepping back to lean against the elevator. You can feel your body growing tired with every second you stand there. The elevator dings and then the doors open, you and Tyson stepping out. 

“I’m, uh, this way.” He points down the hallway, going the opposite direction of your apartment. You smile and nod, stepping back towards your door.

“Goodnight, Tyson.” You wave, before turning to walk to your apartment, pulling your keys from your pocket.

“Goodnight!” Tyson calls after you, waiting until you make it safely into your apartment to walk to his. 

You’re groggy when you wake up the next morning, groaning at the headache that immediately roots itself behind your eyes. You crawl out of bed, running a hand through your tangled hair as you walk into your bathroom to get ready for the day. 

Pretty soon, you’re walking out the door of your apartment, one earbud in as you quickly make your way down to the lobby of the building. Your Saturday morning routine always consisted of a morning walk with a stop at the coffee shop in the middle of your route. 

You’ve just stepped off the elevator, glancing down to turn on your music, when you look back up, you’re surprised to see Tyson opening the front door to your building, smiling at you. His hair is damp, shiny curls falling onto his forehead as he makes his way over to you.

“Good morning! You’re up early.” He says, once he’s inside the building. You settle yourself into a spot near the door, but still out of the way. 

“Hey, Tyson. It’s almost 10 AM, I figured I’d get out of bed and get a coffee to start the day.” You say, shrugging. 

“Oh, cool, are you going to walk to Cloud 9 Espresso?” He asks, and you nod, smiling.

“Yeah, I walk there every Saturday morning.” You explain and Tyson grins.

“Can I walk with you?” You raise your brows, a little surprised at his request. 

“Didn’t you just get done with practice?” You ask and he nods. “Aren’t you tired?” 

“Not really. So, what do you say?” He shrugs, still smiling at you.

“Okay, yeah, you can come with.” You shrug in response, before pulling your earbud out of your ear to tuck it back in its case. 

“Do you normally listen to music while you walk?” Tyson asks, as he moves to open the door for you. You nod, stepping out the door.

“Sometimes music, sometimes a podcast. Depends on how tired I am that day.” You say with a chuckle, and he nods. 

The walk to the coffee shop is pretty quick, though you have to remind Tyson a couple of times to slow down. His cheeks flush each time you do, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. You can’t help but chuckle each time, assuring him that it’s okay, you’re just reminding him. 

Once the two of you arrive at the coffee shop and place your orders, you find a place to sit and chat while they make them. Tyson tells you about his move from Colorado to Minnesota and you tell him how you ended up here as well. 

It feels so natural with Tyson, like the two of you had always been friends. His laugh is like pure gold, and you would be lying if you said that it didn’t give you butterflies. 

As the two of you start to walk back to your apartment, coffees in hand, Tyson settles himself on your left side, the opposite of the walk there, when he was on your right side. You take notice of this, though, you don’t bring it up. 

Tyson takes this time to ask more about you and you do a deep dive into your friendship with Emily, explaining that the two of you had been acquaintances in college and got close when she moved here for a job, and that was how you’d met the rest of the team. He asks about you and Duhaime, but you roll your eyes, assuring him that Duhaime is just a friend, albeit a little protective because of your ex. 

The two of you are just walking up to your apartment building as you finish telling him this, and you stop yourself from going any further, not wanting to get into it with such little time left. 

The elevator ride up to your floor is spent talking about the game tomorrow and Tyson’s brows raise when you tell him you’ll be there, though you shake your head when he asks if you’re sitting with Emily in the friends and family box. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Tyson.” You say, as you both step out of the elevator. He nods, waving softly as you walk back to your apartment. 

The rest of your Saturday is spent cleaning and cooking for the week, getting yourself ready for whatever the week throws at you. 

Sunday is another pretty relaxing day; The Wild have an early game at 1 pm that day, so you take a couple of hours to relax before you head to the arena. It’s almost noon when you arrive, immediately heading to find Emily inside the arena. 

The two of you always stood at the glass for warmups, a tradition that had started with your very first hockey game. You liked getting to see everything up close and you enjoyed getting to see how excited the little kids around you got when their favorite player skated up in front of them. 

Today’s the first time that you’re actually looking for someone, though, and not just watching the team skate. It takes you a few minutes to spot him, his head of curls hidden by the helmet. You smile as he skates around the ice, weaving in between players, shooting the puck. 

He finally notices you just a couple minutes before warm-ups are over, smiling and waving as he skates in front of you before going back to shooting pucks. It’s such a simple thing but it makes your heart pound and butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

The Wild had an awesome game that day, winning 4-1, Tyson scoring two of those goals. Emily invites you to come to dinner with a few of the guys and their significant others, but you decline, feigning exhaustion after the game. 

You’d already been home for roughly an hour when your phone buzzed, a text message coming in. You open it up to see an unknown number, a smile forming on your face as you read it. 

“Hope you had a good time at the game, it was good to see you again!” As you’re reading, another message appears underneath the first and you can’t help but chuckle.

“This is Tyson, by the way. Got your number from Emily.” 

Texting Tyson is fun and lighthearted. He understands when you get busy and don’t open his messages, but will crack a joke or double text when you open the message without responding. 

You don’t get to see Tyson until the next Saturday, when he joins you on your coffee run once more. The team had a game the next day in Dallas and then they’d be on the road until Thursday. 

Slowly, Tyson started to consume your Saturdays. First, it was just coffee and then straight back to your separate apartments, but right back to immediately texting each other. Then one Saturday, Tyson suggested walking to the park near your apartment, and you said yes. The next Saturday, you asked if he would be okay if the two of you walked to a bookstore near the coffee shop and he agreed. 

After a couple of weeks, Saturdays were reserved for you and Tyson. Even on game days, he would wake you up earlier than you would have liked, to get in your daily walk and coffee chat. And then he’d drop you at your apartment with the promise of seeing you later. Then he’d go to practice, come home and do his pre-game ritual, before heading to the arena. 

It had also become ritual for him to look for you during warm ups, something that Emily and Matt had taken note of on separate occasions. He’d skate over, smiling softly. You’d wave and he’d come to a hard stop, kicking up a bunch of slush in front of you. The first couple of times, this action had made you jump, something that Tyson thought was hilarious, and you had come to chuckle about. 

Now, he’d skate over and kick up slush, the two of you smiling throughout the routine, before he skated away. 

Today was no different. It had been roughly four weeks since you and Tyson had met and just about two weeks since he’d started doing the little routine during warm-ups. Emily and you were situated in the same spot as always, her in a Dumba jersey and you in a plain Wild hoodie. She’d seen you eyeing the Jost jerseys while the two of you were shopping and once Tyson finished his little routine and skated away, she bumped your shoulder.

“What’s going on between the two of you?” She asks and you shrug, warmth spreading up your chest and towards your cheeks. 

“We’re just friends.” You say and Emily rolls her eyes. 

“Really? Just friends?” She asks, and you nod.

“Yeah. There’s nothing going on between us.” You shrug and she looks at you, incredulously. 

“Do you have feelings for him?” She asks and you’re taken aback, brows furrowed in shock.

“What? No, Em. Like I said, we’re just friends.” You assure her and she shakes her head.

“That’s not what I’m asking and you know it.” She says and you just wave her off.

“Can you just drop it?” You ask and she sighs heavily, pausing before nodding. 

“Sure.” She says and you smile, looping your arm through hers just as warmups end. 

“Great, let’s go get some popcorn, I want a snack.” She laughs as you tug her along, rolling her eyes. 

You don’t tell Tyson about Emily’s questions the next day, when he knocks on your door with a bagel from your favorite place and a movie he’d picked up for the two of you. Instead, you watch as he settles himself on your couch, leaving space for you. You maneuver yourself into your usual spot, his legs on either side of your thighs, your legs resting on his as he traces abstract figures on the front of your calf. 

You can’t focus on the movie, though. All you can think about is what Emily said, and the feeling of Tyson’s warm fingers on your leg. You’d never had a friend that was as touchy as Tyson. You’d played it off, saying that he was affectionate with everyone, but now you couldn’t recall a single time that he was as affectionate with others as he was with you. 

There was the time that he was teaching you how to hold the golf club at TopGolf with Emily and Matt and a few other guys, his arms encircling yours as he walked you through the motions. 

And then there was every time the two of you would walk to the coffee shop. He never let you walk next to the road, he always made sure that he was on the outside. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but after a few times, you’d asked him about it, and he said that’s what his mom had always taught him. The guy walks next to the road, in case anything happens.

You don’t get any sleep that night, your mind racing with thoughts of Tyson and what this meant. 

About a week after your conversation with Emily, you finally confess to her your feelings. The two of you are watching movies on her couch one evening, when you finally spill the beans. She grins at you, before standing up and heading towards her bedroom. You sit on the couch, brows furrowed in confusion until she comes back into the living room, a gift bag in hand. She hands it off to you, still grinning. 

“What’s this for?” You ask, toying with the handle on the bag.

“Open it and find out.” She says and so you pull the ribbon off the handles, opening the bag to reveal a green Wild jersey. It’s not until you pull it out of the bag and look at the back that it clicks. It’s a number 10 jersey, with Jost written in white letters. You laugh, hanging your head.

“How did you know?” You ask her, moving to give her a gentle hug.

“I saw it in the way you looked at him. You never looked at Jason that way, not even in the beginning.” She explains and you nod, fingers toying with the jersey. 

“But what if he doesn’t actually like me?” You ask and she shakes her head.

“That boy is head over heels for you. This is how we get him to realize it.” She says, reaching for the jersey.

The next home game is only two days away and you arrive at the arena, clad in your favorite jeans and new jersey. Your heart is pounding as you find your spot against the glass with Emily. You stand with your back facing the ice, chatting with her. You stay like that for a couple of minutes after warm ups start, until she taps your arm to let you know that Tyson has seen it. When you turn around and catch sight of him, you can’t help but laugh at the goofy expression on his face. He slowly skates over, a grin forming on his face as he does. He comes to a stop in front of you, kicking up a slurry of ice. He stares at you for a moment before tugging on his jersey, then pointing at your new jersey. You raise your brows, pinching the bottom of the jersey and holding it away from your body, silently asking ‘what do you think?’. He gives you a thumbs up, grinning. 

That night, you join the group at the bar, a request Tyson made as soon as the game was finished. Tyson didn’t leave your side that evening, and the drunker he got, the handsier he became. About the time that Tyson separated himself from you long enough to go to the bathroom, Brandon slid into the empty seat, smirking at you.

“So, you and Jost, huh?” He asks, wiggling his brows. You shake your head at him, laughing.

“We’re just friends, Duhaime.” You say, but he shakes his head. 

“What? Really?” Brandon asks and you chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re just friends.” You assure him and he raises his brows, smirking.

“Oh, you guys are keeping it on the DL. Got it. I won’t tell anyone.” He pulls his fingers across his lips in the ‘my lips are sealed’ motion, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“We really are just friends.” You try to assure him, but he shakes his head.

“No, I see the way he looks at you. He definitely wants to kiss you.” Brandon says, voice dropping low as he leans in, like he’s telling you a secret. “And I know you want to kiss him too. I can see it.” 

You bite your lip, eyes focused on your hands. They fidget on your lap before you look up at him, defeated. You were tired of holding back your feelings, acting like they didn’t matter. “Okay, you’re right. I have feelings for Tyson, but he doesn’t reciprocate them, he literally just went on a date last week!” You argue, but Brandon shakes his head.

“He didn’t like her. Said she wasn’t anything like you.” He slurs and you bite your lip, sighing. 

“I’m going to go find him.” Brandon stands up to let you out, smirking. You make your way towards the bathrooms, leaning against the wall to wait for Tyson to come out. After almost ten minutes, you head back to the table, brows furrowed in confusion. Emily sees you and walks to meet you halfway, her own brows furrowed.

“Tyson texted Matt a bit ago that he had left, that he wasn’t feeling good, did he tell you?” She asks, and you shake your head.

“No, I thought he was still in the bathroom. We were supposed to share an Uber back.” You sigh, feeling a bit dejected.

“C’mon, Matt will take you home. We’ve got to get Duhaime home as well.” She says, and you nod. You and Emily manage to get Duhaime outside, into the cool night air, while Matt brought the car around. 

“I can’t believe he just left like that without telling you.” Emily says, after a couple of seconds of silence. You nod, fidgeting with your hands.

“Maybe he just wasn’t feeling good and thought I wouldn’t want to leave yet.” You say, shrugging. Emily thinks about it, before nodding.

“Yeah, that’s gotta be it.” She says, just as Matt pulls up to the curb. The three of you pile into the car, you and Duhaime in the back. Matt drops you off at your apartment first, stepping out to hug you goodbye. They’re flying out to St. Louis for five days the next morning, for games three and four of the playoffs. You hadn’t been able to get the time off, so you would be staying back in Minnesota, watching eagerly as the Wild tried to beat the Blues. 

You don’t hear from Tyson the entire time the Wild are in St. Louis and, to be honest, you were getting pretty annoyed with him because of it. You’d texted, you’d called, you’d sent him a snapchat. If you hadn’t seen him on the ice for the two games, you’d be worried he was dead. But he wasn’t, he was blatantly ignoring you. 

The series is tied when the boys come back into Minnesota, everyone hoping that the Wild would take a lead that evening. You’d worn your Jost jersey, hoping to at least get a reaction out of him that way, but Tyson barely ever looked your way. He never skated over, either, completely skipping the pre-game routine he’d created with you. 

It was hard for you to focus on the game at hand, your thoughts occupied with Tyson and what could have lead to him ignoring you like this. Emily is no help, shaking her head and trying to brush away your thoughts of the boy in favor of the game at hand. 

The Wild lose that evening, despite their best efforts. There’s no celebration, no drowning their sorrows in alcohol because the still have game six to come back and win. Everyone goes back to their homes, forlorn and exhausted. 

The Blues win the series two nights later, and just like that, the season has come to an end right in front of you. Emily pulls you in for a hug and you squeeze her waist tight, looking around the box as other significant others do the same. You nod when Emily asks if you want to go down to the tunnels with them, hoping that if Tyson saw you there, he might speak to you. 

You stand and chat with the other women as everyone waits; the air is heavy, despite the grinning children running around and your laugh as you play with a couple of them. You hear the guys before you see them and you set down the child you’d picked up, your smile fading as you watch the players come into view. Matt is out quickly, hugging Emily and burying his hea din her neck. He turns to you after a couple minutes, pulling you into a hug as well. 

Brandon is in front of you next, pulling you into a hug as he wraps his arms around your waist. You ruffled his hair, a sad laugh falling from your lips. 

“You guys played great tonight, you should be proud of yourselves.” You murmur as he squeezes gently, before releasing you. 

Tyson walks by just as Brandon sets you down and you turn your head, calling out his name. You shoot Brandon an apologetic look, though he nods, as you rush to go after Tyson. 

Tyson’s got some long legs and you can’t seem to catch up to him, especially when he clears the exit several seconds ahead of you, jogging to his car. You sigh as you lean against the door, running a hand through your hair. 

You walk back towards the others, shaking your head when you see Brandon, Matt and Emily watching you expectantly. 

“That’s it,  I’m kicking his ass.” Brandon goes to walk past you, but you grab his arm, stopping him.

“Brandon. Just let him go.” You say, sighing softly. Brandon softens when he looks at you, nodding. 

With hockey season over, your life seems to slow down. You spend more nights inside your apartment, more weekends cleaning and watching Netflix than before. Your Saturday coffee walks aren’t as fun as they used to be and you spend most of them thinking of Tyson. 

With Tyson ignoring you, Brandon seems to fill your time nowadays. He knows that you’ve still got feelings for Tyson, but he enjoys your company and is particularly bored without his strict schedule of practices and workouts. 

About a week after the season has ended, you and Brandon are at the mall, you shopping for some new work clothes. You broach the subject carefully, though you’re not sure why you speak tentatively. 

“Have you heard from Tyson at all?” You ask, brows raised slightly as you look up at Brandon. His brows furrow and he stops walking, holding his hand out to stop you.

“He didn’t tell you?” Brandon ask and you shake your head slowly.

“Tell me what?” You ask, concerned.

“He flew back to Canada a couple of days ago.” Brandon says and your breath hitches in your throat, mouth opening in shock. “I’m sorry, I thought he would’ve at least told you that.” 

“You know what? Whatever. It was just a stupid crush anyway.” You say, shaking your head. 

“Hey, no, it wasn’t stupid. Tyson just.. I don’t know, he’s being an ass and I swear he’s normally not like this.” Brandon assures you, but you shrug.

“It’s fine, really.” You tell him, waving him off, before you continue walking. 

The first couple of nights after that are messy, to say the least. You overdo it with Emily on night and she lets you crash on her couch, only after you’d started crying at the sight of your building from her car. 

A couple of nights later, Brandon lets you crash at his place, once again very drunk. Emily and Matt hadn’t gone out with everyone that night and after your 9th shot, Brandon had decided you’d had enough. You wake up the next morning with very little recollection of the night before, in someone else’s bed and someone else’s clothing. 

It’s funny, what ensues after that, especially when you see Brandon emerge from the bathroom in just a pair of grey sweatpants and you swear you nearly pass out right then and there. 

After that, though, your summer really picks up. You spend days on the lake and Brandon teaches you to golf, even though you’re no good at it and you complain too much for his liking. 

By the time hockey season is about to start up again, you’ve pushed Tyson almost completely from your thoughts. 

Almost. 

Brandon had invited you to the “end of summer bash” with the team, though you’d protested pretty hard. The two of you weren’t dating, Emily and Matt weren’t back from their vacation yet, so really there was no point for you to go. But Brandon had cornered you and looked down at you with pleading eyes, telling you that he wanted you to go. 

And here you were, in your best swimsuit, hair pulled back, sunglasses sitting low on your nose as you watched Brandon with a smile. 

Tyson had walked in a half hour after you had arrived and you’d yet to even make eye contact with him, though you were pretty sure that’s because he wouldn’t even come outside. 

With a quiet excuse of needing another drink, you headed for the kitchen, smiling at a couple of people you passed. The cool air from the house hit you like a truck and you sighed deeply, goosebumps immediately rising on your skin. You grab a bottle of water from the fridge and are just about to head inside when you see him.

Tyson’s sat at the island just a few feet away from you, arms folded on top of the counter, foot bouncing furiously. 

“So, you and Duhaime, huh?” Tyson asks, his jaw clenching as he nods towards the backyard. 

“What are you talking about? Brandon and I are just friends.” You say, unscrewing the cap on your water bottle to take a drink.

“That’s not what it looks like.” He says and you let out a dry chuckle.

“Oh, yeah, like you would know, you haven’t even been here.” You shoot back. 

“Well you seemed pretty buddy buddy with him earlier.” He says and you just shake your head. 

“It’s really none of your business who I’m “buddy buddy” with, Tyson.” You say, running a hand through your hair. 

“You’re right, but you didn’t have to go fuck my teammate.” He spits and you reel back, mouth open in shock. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say, anger boiling in your veins. 

“You could’ve at least waited until I was gone to screw him.” Tyson stands up, and you clench your jaw, closing your eyes. It takes a second, but his words register and you look up at him, confused.

“What are you talking about, Tyson? Brandon and I didn’t get close until after he told me that you’d left for Canada.”

“No, I saw you guys whispering at the bar the same night that you wore my jersey for the first time. It looked like he was about to kiss you.” Tyson says, his tone is less angry now, though still defensive. 

“He didn’t kiss me. He never has. We were talking about you. I was telling him that I had feelings for you.” You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Oh.” Is all Tyson can say, before you turn around and open the back door. He’s left standing there as you beeline for Brandon, telling him that you’re leaving. You explain the situation to him and Brandon’s eyes lock with Tyson’s, a threatening look on his face. 

You have to walk past Tyson to get your stuff, and you brush past him without even saying anything. He follows you to the front, though, trying to talk to you. 

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He says and you shake your head. 

“You didn’t even try to figure out what was going on before you just started ignoring me, Tyson. How do you think that made me feel?” You ask and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

“I wasn’t thinking, honestly. I just saw you all cozied up next to Brandon and instead of trusting you or even asking you about it, I ran. Because at least that way, it would hurt less.” You scoff at his words, shaking your head, as a car pulls up. You confirm the information for your Uber, opening the back door. 

“Yeah, cause that worked out real well. Goodnight, Tyson.” You close the door behind you, turning your head away from Tyson as the car drives away. 

You can’t focus next morning, the fight with Tyson consuming your thoughts. It’s almost lunch time by the time you finish your first task and when you leave work for the day, you’ve only completed a messy 4 tasks total. 

Sitting on your doorstep when you arrive home is a bouquet of daisies, one of your favorite flowers. You pick it up with a soft sigh, reading the card.

I was an idiot and I’m sorry. -Tyson

You unlock the door to your apartment, immediately going to find something to put the flowers in. You knew that it would be hard to resist Tyson, which is why you let yourself feel excited about the flowers. You texted a picture of them to Emily who quickly asked who they were from. 

You spent the rest of that evening deciding on your feelings for Tyson. 

The next morning, just as you’re finishing up getting ready for work, you hear a knock on your door. Sitting on the ground is an iced coffee and a bag, which when you look inside it, has a croissant in it. On the bag is another note and a smile forms on your face as you read it.

Let me make it up to you -Tyson

You’re not sure what he’s got up his sleeve, but you decide to let this play out. 

The next gift left for you is a bucket of movie essentials; popcorn, a couple of movies, and your favorite candy. Tucked in between the popcorn and the movies is your latest note and you pluck it out of its place, smiling. 

Meet me at the park tomorrow at 8 pm. Dress nice -Tyson. 

Part of you wants to throw the note away and ignore him, but the other part of you misses Tyson and wants to know what kind of plan he’s got up his sleeve. 

The next day, Emily comes over after work to help you with your hair and makeup and you pick out a lavender dress and nude sandals to wear. Emily smiles wistfully at you, brows raised, a silent question of if you’re sure about this. You nod before hugging her and thanking her. You decide to walk to the park, taking the same path that you and Tyson had taken several times before. 

It’s 7:55 when you arrive at the park, but Tyson is nowhere to be seen. Your eyes span across the area, before catching sight of Brandon Duhaime. He waves at you, as you make your way over to him, and you smile softly at the boy. 

“Follow me, m’lday.” He says, offering you his arm, once you're close enough. You loop your arm through his with a soft chuckle, as the two of you start walking further into the park. 

It’s quiet as the two of you walk, and you’re tempted to ask where you’re going, but you bite your tongue in favor of being surprised. You’d never been this far back in the park, you honestly didn’t even know it existed. 

Brandon slows his walking as a gazebo comes into view and a soft gasp leaves your lips as you catch sight of it. Fairy lights are strung all along the outside and inside of the gazebo, and flowers of all different kinds are woven into their strands, giving it the most ethereal feel. Standing inside the gazebo is Tyson, dressed in a navy suit. He wrings his hands as he waits, and you can’t help but smile softly at the nervous action. His movements stop when he finally catches sight of you, though, a grin spreading across his features.

Brandon slips his arm out of yours, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he pushes you towards Tyson, smiling. 

“Wow.” Tyson breathes out as you walk up the steps and stand in front of him. 

“I think I should be the one saying that.” You tease, glancing up and around the gazebo, in awe of it. He clears his throat and a soft song starts playing from somewhere behind him. 

“The night that I met you, my entire life shifted. Up until that moment, I had continuously felt like “the new guy” since I’d departed from Colorado. You accepted me so easily into your life that sometimes it felt like it had always been that way. Somewhere along the way, though, my feelings changed. The night that you wore my jersey to the game, I was planning to kiss you. I was going to walk you to your door and tell you goodnight and then I was going to kiss you, and instead of doing that, I freaked out. I overreacted and left without even telling you goodbye.

“As long as you will let me, I will spend all of that time, making it up to you. I never should’ve just walked away, and if you don’t want to see me or speak to me after this, I will leave you alone for good. But if you let me try to make it up to you, I promise that you won’t regret it.” 

“I never regretted a second spent with you, Tyson, and I’m not about to start now.” Your voice is shaky as you speak, taking a step towards Tyson. 

“So, can I kiss you now?” Tyson asks softly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him. All you can do is nod, wrapping your arms around his neck as he closes the distance between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours softly. 

You hear Brandon whooping and hollering behind you and your cheeks flush as you pull away from Tyson, smiling. 

“How are you ever going to top this, Tyson?” You ask, teasingly, as he takes your hand and leads you down the steps of the gazebo. 

“I’ll figure something out.” Tyson says, smirking, as he pulls you closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. 

Two years later, you and Emily are walking to the very same park, with her beautiful daughter Lily. After a quick stop at Cloud 9 Espresso, you carried on with your walk, six month old Lily fast asleep in her stroller while you chatted with her mom. 

“So, do you think Tyson is going to pop the question anytime soon?” Emily asks, smirking, as she sips on her coffee. Ever since her wedding a year ago, she’s been asking about it nonstop. You caught the bouquet that evening and she couldn’t help but grin over at Tyson, who’s eyes were wider than normal, though he was grinning at you. 

“I don’t know. We’ve talked about it a little bit but he hasn’t really hinted at it or anything. I think he’s waiting for the summer because I told him a while ago that I wanted a summer proposal and a winter wedding.” You shrug, tucking your hands into your coat pockets. 

It’s lightly snowing as you make your way towards the park, the February chill seeping into your bones. The All-Star game is tomorrow, and Tyson wasn’t going, though Matt was. Emily had elected to stay home with the newborn, though, and you were enjoying the time with just her. 

“Are you going to say yes if he does propose soon?” Emily asks and you look at her, brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I love Tyson. I don’t care when he proposes, or how. I just want to spend the rest of my life with him.” Emily breaks out into a grin as you speak, eyes staring out at the playground wistfully. 

The two of you keep walking, Emily carefully pushing the stroller on the wet sidewalk, her secretly guiding you towards the back. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to make it closer to the back of the park and you look around, smiling softly.

“This is where Tyson asked me to give him a second chance.” You say, looking around, before catching sight of something behind a tree. “Hey, what’s that over there?” 

“Why don’t we go see?” Emily asks, and you nod, taking the lead. It’s not until you get closer and can see behind the tree that you register what it is. 

You see, the original gazebo you and Tyson had stood in two years ago had been torn down due to rotting wood. You and Tyson had mourned the loss of that spot a year ago, when the city tore it down. 

Set up in front of you, though, is a brand new gazebo, wrapped in warm fairy lights, a light dusting of snow covering the top of it. You can’t help but step closer to it, smiling softly at the memory it brings up. 

“Do you like it?” You turn quickly at the sound of his voice, brows furrowed. Standing to the side of you is Tyson, smiling softly. 

“It’s beautiful. Just like the one from a couple of years ago.” You say and Tyson nods. 

“You should, uh, you should look up.” He suggests, and you furrow your brows, though you do as he says, tilting your head upwards. Carved into the wood at the top is Your and Tyson’s initials, encompassed in a heart. When you look back down, Tyson is standing inside the gazebo in front of you, smiling lovingly at you. 

“C’mere.” He says softly, and you go to step towards him, though Emily stops you. She gestures towards your coat zipper and You reach for it, eyes widening when you realize what is happening. You unzip the coat, revealing your thick sweater and jeans, before handing her the coat. 

You step back towards Tyson, tears already forming in your eyes. He sniffles a little, jaw clenching as he fights back his own emotions. Soft music plays behind him and he can see the photographer he’d hired out of the corner of his eye. He knows that just out of eyesight, a group of your friends and family sit, watching as the two of you have this moment. 

“Two years ago, we stood in a similar spot in this very park. The circumstances were less than ideal, though. I was apologizing to you, asking you to forgive me, because I screwed up before I even had a chance to call you mine. You accepted my apology and accepted me that day. Every day since then, I have strived to be a better man for you. I have strived to be your best friend, the best man that I can be.” 

Tyson sniffles, clearing his throat as he reaches for his hand. A tear slips down your cheek as you smile softly up at him.

“It hasn’t been easy, but you have stuck by me, pushed me to be better, pushed me to reach goals I didn’t even know I had. I have been so lucky to watch you grow as a person, a friend, and as my partner. I want to watch you grow for the rest of our lives. To grow into a wife and a mother and a grandmother. I want you to push me to be the best husband, the best father, the best grandfather. There is no one that I would rather do this with than you.” 

You’re full on crying at this point, one hand still in Tyson’s, the other covering your mouth. Tyson reaches up and pulls that one into his hand, holding both of yours with one of his as he reaches into his back pocket for the ring, as he sinks down to one knee. 

“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Tyson has barely finished the sentence before you’re nodding, reaching out to pull him up to you, kissing him. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, shaky hands circling your waist as cheers erupt behind the two of you. 

“I can’t wait for you to become Mrs. Jost.” Tyson whispers against your hair as you slip the ring on and watch all of your friends and family make their way towards the gazebo.

#tyson jost x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl writing #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #the summer fic exchange 2k22

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Yesterday I took a quick walk to the swamp because Mom had been too weak to talk long.

The western section of the swamp, the one effected by the “new”** beaver dam, had dropped 2 feet in water level in just two days. That means something has happened dam, and most probably the recent local kill the beavers/clear the swamps has started to hit close to home….

So, I was upset. But, interestingly, it has had a good side.

Today Mom was in a bad way. When I called Mom said nothing and my sister-in-law took the phone. She told me Mom was doing her “fish impression”, gasping for air more than breathing, and it probably wasn’t worth trying today because she couldn’t talk and wouldn’t be listening much. She suggested I just try again tomorrow, but I said I wanted to just talk at her for 5 minutes. Just so she could hear me and know I love her….

The phone was set be her head and I started what I expected to be a short monologue to silence. And it sure seemed to be just that, until I started telling her about the beavers. She was unhappy to hear about it and started talking!

Mom and I not only talked a while about that, but then about stuff I’d been working on, stuff I have planned to do, the news, what I watched last night***, and eventually back to reading to her****. I had gone in expecting to too not hear her say anything, and struggle at five minutes, but we went on for nearly 1 1/2 hrs with her still able to say goodbye!

So, basically, I think getting her emotionally hooked with the drained bit of swamp made her feel she needed to talk about it, which in turn gave her the push she needed. Yes, she is incredibly weak and found breathing hard, but sometimes the right motivation can really help.

Funny though, isn’t it? One day something makes me sad, and the next I am so very glad I had it to talk about.

**There are three beaver dams on the swamp along our place:

The “old” dam. It was created something like twenty or twenty five years ago. I’d go every single day to break a hole in it. That sounds like I had it in for the beavers, but actually I was trying to protect them. I knew if the water level got visibly from high nearby road people would “do” something. Then the government decided after a hurricane to use funds to clear the swamps. They were supposed to leave the beavers be, BUT the idiots doing it couldn’t tell a beaver dam if their lives depended on it. “it wasn’t a beaver dam. It was just mud and sticks!” they told Pop. And that was that for beavers for many years.

The “current” dam. When beavers finally returned they build their new dam down stream. This is the one that you see in photos I post, the one that created the lovely pond and where I has been watching the beavers swimming around. The place with the irises and my favorite tree to flop next to. This dam was safe, too far away to effect the road and with the neighbors, being duck hunters, glad it’s there.

The “new” dam. This one was started a couple years ago down stream, close to the western border to our property. It had been “under construction” before I discovered it. I wondered if it was just the next generation moving on their own home or what. That section is still full of trees because the ponding hasn’t been going on that long and it wasn’t as deep yet.

*** “Flight of the Conchords” is my current tv watching. Movie wise things have been disappointing, but this show has been making up for blah movies.

My movie comments were (to use one example..Movie: Company Business) “I hadn’t noticed Mikhail Baryshnikov is short, and I thought he looked about the same height as David McCallum, and OMG they were they WERE the same height! And I swear that movie script was unfinished, like there was stuff that felt like writer place holders to figure out later only they didn’t…which is weird since the writer was also the director. Pity, as a spy movie set in that very specific period where the cold war was ending and no one knew what would come next, with an American and Russian bonding in a thriller/comedy/buddy picture sounds fun.”

I swear, every movie I’ve seen lately (old, new, prehistoric) has ended up with me saying “pity”.

**** Still Terry Pratchett’s The Truth. Mom has had some bad days lately, so we haven’t finished it yet. There was a chunk today about the public not caring as much as out hero about the news he writes, and how no matter how imperfect the Patrician is, how much worse other leaders had been and very likely could be….well, it felt very relevant!

#my day #rambles #mom #beavers #family #conversations

[britcision]

Y’know what it’s 4am and I am In Pain while my doc thinks I can just “go to bed earlier” so I’m gonna tell you about the Dhurfucks

I love the Dhurfucks

That’s their last name

It came from a name generator so I’m not responsible for it

They are two of my NPCs from my homebrew world’s previous Level 20 Fight (because it’s a magical world and the players are not the first people to stir shit up, worlds need Legends)

And the Dhurfucks? The Dhurfucks are legends

The Dhurfucks are more legendary than the rest of their most recent adventuring party but to be fair, they are also at least 600 years older than most of those whipper snappers

The Dhurfucks are so legendary that the entire island continent they came from has been renamed to reflect What They Have Done

The Dhurfucks are a pair of dwarf twins, Hudran (he/him) and Guthrun (she/her)

Guthrun is a warlock of Freyr

Hudran is a passion cleric of Freya

They may or may not trade off on deities occasionally because if anyone can get in on some good twins bullshit, it is Freyr and Freya

Now, how do a pair of dwarfs get themselves legendary status in a world that, again, is magical and has had plenty of bullshit done before?

Well, you have to do your bullshit harder. With more vigour. And subvert every expectation of society, with precise timing so as not to get yourself killed

They’re in their 700s. They’ve got it down to an art, and are fucking hard to kill

The rest of their previous party have all retired now, settled down throughout the world and let themselves fade from the limelight (mostly) in the aftermath of their big godfight 130 years ago

The Dhurfucks wished them well, visit regularly, gamble for the paladin’s kids in bars, and kept right on fucking trucking

Because when a level 20 warlock/cleric combo roll up on your city and decide to have a god-off in the undead swamp outside, there isn’t a lot you can (or should) do about it

(Freyr leant divine energy for the god off, but the cleric won for obvious Destroy Undead reasons)

It is possible that before they reached around level 17 the Dhurfucks had to restrain themselves and behave, but again, since it’s been 130+ years since then, those days are a distant memory

These days, they are the only members of Former Hero Party Rolling Thunder (fuck the trucker convoy I had the name first and I’ll give it up when I die and not before) that everyone is completely sure is still alive because You Still Hear Stories

(The paladin specifically is assumed dead for tragedy reasons and one of her kids is a PC)

The Dhurfucks drink. They party. They have a pretty Cohen-the-barbarian relationship with gold; it’s very easy to come by when you’re an official Hero, and easy to spend out to every town you come across and boost the economy of bars, shops, and varying entertainment

They do not hold on to money, they are the siphon through which it passes

Sometimes they will be hired escorts. Sometimes they will be paid not to come to certain places or events. Sometimes they Planeshift and go bother all the other dimensions for a while and people quietly hope they have stopped

They have not stopped

They will not stop

They are simply putting the Fear of Dhurfucks into everyone else as well

Dwarfs live a long time, and they see no reason not to have as much fun as is physically possible for the entirety of that time, and their patrons? Well, they’re fertility gods

They’re all about the good times, and spreading the bounty of wealth

And if that includes a little showmanship, the occasional truly stupid stunt to see what will happen, that is all party of the bounty of life

They’ll fight dragons in their underwear. They’ll head butt beholders for fun. And if only one of them dies, the other has a way to bring them back and no one’s managed to get both at once yet

They’re adrenaline junkies but past a certain level actual danger and the ensuing adrenaline rush is pretty hard to come by, so the stories just get bigger and bigger, and they will egg each other on to make it worse

Half the stuff they try and do is actually impossible, and they fail

However, when what you are trying to do is “hold the moving island in place and make it move backwards”, even fucking trying leads to a great story, no matter how much everyone knows how it ends

It’s whether or not people noticed the heartbeat when the movement stuttered

The Dhurfucks are big, ridiculous personalities in dwarf sized glasses to give my players something to aspire to, and they’re so much fun to dot around the world

None of the players have asked about them yet

None of them know what is coming

The Dhurfucks will find them soon

After all, their dear little nephew is travelling with the party, and it’s been too long since their last visit. Poor kid was kidnapped 11 years ago

#pasha’s paw patrol #big gay dnd problems #these two are the biggest problem i love them #they did both try and cleric but guthrun just don’t got the conviction #she’s more ‘wait and see’ #and freyr didn’t want her to be left out #hudran tho he will commit to EVERY bit thrown his way #to his detriment more often than not #their names are spoken with either fear or revery in every bar in the land #and if you smash the two of them together you get my dwarf dai inquisitor corin #who is nonbiney and absolutely as much combined chaos as the other two together #but they have no twin to egg them on and the world is grateful for it #the dhurfucks

[canadian-riddler]

Providence

By Indiana

Characters: Jonathan Crane’s 1984 Ford F-150, Jonathan Crane (cameo)

Synopsis: He thought it was abandoned.  But perhaps it wasn’t.

AO3 || fanfiction.net

-

It had been owned since before it had existed. 

A special order from one of the Ford factories up in Canada, it was transported to a dealership in New Jersey where a flurry of fresh cotton bills were exchanged for a handful of paper.  The proud new owner climbed inside the cab, the thick smell of fresh vinyl and plastic settling around him as if to welcome him.  The engine turned over smoothly and without complaint and he proceeded on his way, his mind already occupied with his future plans with and without the truck.

This man had recently come into an inheritance.  He had received notice that a distant relative whom he had never heard of had died, and as it turned out there was no one else to take ownership of the property.  This man, who had been moderately successful in some big city career which required the ability to talk more than it did the ability to work, had thought it over and decided he could use a change.  Money was all you really needed to run a farm, after all.  It required neither degree nor diploma.  A child could do it.  

The trip from New Jersey to Georgia was approximately fourteen hours, but this man took the better part of three days.  He had never left his big city before now and was not prepared for the monotony that was farm country driving.  Mile after mile after mile of empty road bracketed by tall brown or short brown or tall green or short green fields stretched out for what seemed like forever, and many a time he questioned if it actually would.  Perhaps this was the entirety of the United States, perhaps the wheat and the corn and the barley covered every square acre of land right up to the place where the swamps of Florida crept up to meet them from the coast, and for the first time the idea that he did not know what he was doing flitted across his mind.  But that was all it was: a flicker, a draught, and it disappeared as quickly as would have a puff of air had it been able to blow in one ear and out the other.

The last leg of his journey passed through small towns with more intersections than there were motorists to use them.  The barns and the farmhouses and the silos were set so far back from the road they looked like toys.  He squinted for any notation as to where he was: a sign, a number painted on a mailbox, a yokel selling corn by the side of the road.  Nothing of the sort materialised until he came upon a building which seemed to be entertaining just about everybody from miles around.  He pulled over at the side of the road, removed the key from the ignition, and climbed out.  He was immediately drained by a thick heat which seemed to bypass his clothes entirely and settle in comfortably against his skin as though it intended to live there.  He slowly closed the door of the truck, already imagining the cool breath of the air conditioner against his face, and looked up towards the house as sweat gathered against his hairline. 

The house looked as though it had been expanded upon at least twice.  One section loomed high, as if a reminder of which part had been there first, while the front room and the addition seemingly tacked on to the left slumped, cowed, in its shadow.  The dried brown grass in front had long ago been trampled almost entirely into dust, which covered the myriad seemingly random items deposited every which place in the yard and on the porch and piled against the side of the house.  The only person he was certain had taken notice of him was leaned back on the porch steps, teeth casually but firmly working away at something held inside of his left cheek.  They stared at each other until the man got impatient.  Sweat was running down the backs of his legs beneath the pants of his suit.  “I need directions,” he stated.  The other man blinked, seeming unsure of whether or not he wanted to open his eyes again, and then he spit into the yard and said, as though he had done so many times before, “Atlanta?”

“No,” the man said.  “I have a property around here.  Maybe you’ve heard that –“

“Not me,” the stranger interrupted.  “This here’s a boarding house and I only been here since the day before.”  He tipped his head back and called through the front door, which was propped open with a crumbled grey brick.  “Miss Crane!”

After a few moments a short and portly woman appeared on the porch, wearing a tired but serviceable outfit of t-shirt and long brown skirt.  Her feet were bare and there was a tattered dishrag dripping in her hand.  She looked down at the man on the steps and up at the one across from him and brushed at the wisps that had escaped from the faded handkerchief tying back her grey hair.  “Another one?” she said to the man with the chewing tobacco, who shrugged and crossed one ankle over his knee.  She sighed and draped the rag on the splintered railing of the porch.

“Atlanta?” she asked.

“No!” the man spat.  “I own some property around here!  I know how to get to Atlanta!  I just came through Atlanta!”

“Might be best if you went back on up there,” the other man said around his tobacco.  Miss Crane sighed and shook her head and came down the stairs, paying no mind as the hem of her skirt brushed the worn wood.

“Whereabouts are you headed?” she asked as she approached.  After he explained to her what he knew of the property, she directed him to a farm about ten minutes the way he had come.  He had, it seemed, missed the mailbox marked with the name of his relative, and as he returned to the truck he fervently hoped he would be able to find it this time.  He had spent too much time in search of this place to begin with.  He opened the door and used the steering wheel to pull himself inside.  He turned the key in the ignition before pulling the door closed, wincing at the blast of hot air drawn into the cab through the vents.  He decided to wait until the air cooled before driving off, the sun-baked bench beneath him seeming to sear his legs even through his pants.  He loosened the collar of his shirt and pushed back his hair, which was now a sweaty tangle.  His glance in the rearview mirror revealed that his face was clamshell pink and glistening, and he wiped at it with his shirtsleeve.  He realised in doing this that his underarms had soaked through, and must have some time ago.  He looked up out of the driver’s side window to see Miss Crane and the man on the porch in casual conversation, eyes moving to him and back to each other without a hint of shame or subtlety.  Miss Crane was shaking her head in disapproval and the man was rubbing his nose as though he found some deep pleasure in doing so.  

The air conditioner appeared to be broken.

He pinned a curse between his teeth and flicked the control to the off position.  Fine.  He’d just open the window, then.  He fitted his fingers around the crank and pulled.  Then pushed.  Then pulled again.

Nothing.  

He slammed his palms against the steering wheel and sucked in a breath.  The truck was revealing itself to be a lemon.  He should have specified it be American-made.  Those damned Canadians had probably just slapped a truck body around an old snowmobile and called it a day.  It had been a miracle the air conditioning even worked in the first place.  

The exhausted new owner slumped inside the cab, the thick smell of fresh vinyl and plastic pressing around him as if to smother him.  He pushed up his sleeves and pressed his leather shoes into the pedals to put the truck into gear.  A gathering had begun on the porch across the way from him, and even out of the corner of his eye he could clearly see them staring, murmuring about the stranger who had been parked in front of the house much longer than he should have.  He wrenched the wheel around to return the way he had come and the truck stalled out before he had even completed the turn, jerking into the ditch as his body slammed into the steering wheel.  Hot embarrassment burned up his neck.  He didn’t need to look to see the disapproving stares of the locals.  He knew what he was doing.  This damned truck simply refused to operate as it should!

The dust kicked up by his passage coated the windshield in a thick brown mist.  The windshield wipers proved useless and he opted for hunching over the steering wheel, attempting to squint through the smears.  He was so focused on this task that he nearly missed the mailbox, and when he sighted it he slammed his foot on the brake pedal so hard the engine stalled a second time.  His entire shirt was by now soaked through, but he attempted to dry his face with it anyway before restarting the engine.  He turned onto the unmaintained dirt road that led to his new property, but it was so uneven and strewn with debris that he was forced to proceed at a crawl.  The sun beat down through the windshield and his tongue grew thicker and thicker in his mouth.  He peeled off his shirt with one hand and controlled the truck with the other, switching arms when necessary.  A few minutes later he came upon a ramshackle, one-storey house and his spirits sank lower than it ever had before.

It was even worse for wear than the other house had been.

The shingles on the roof seemed to be sliding off one by one and the house’s planks were faded and rotten.  The stairs leading in had already collapsed and the land beyond was choked with overgrown stalks he did not recognise.  He would have leaned his head back against the bench if he had not been so desperate to escape the suffocating heat trapped inside of the truck, and so he shoved open the door and spilled outside as though he had become liquid.  His shoe landed on a sharply angled rock and he slipped, falling to the dust in a heap.  He pushed himself up and attempted to wipe away the dirt which had immediately sunk into the sweat sheening his body.  He would go inside and take stock of the place, get out of the heat for a while, and when the sun had gone down he would go out and take a look at the rest of the property.  

The interior was musty and dark, and he realised belatedly there was no electricity.  Probably no running water, either, which meant a septic system.  The dilapidated furniture on the single floor looked as though it would break if he so much as looked at it too hard, and his suspicions were proven when he entered the kitchen to find a basin with no faucet.  He pushed back his hair in frustration, his fingers becoming trapped in the dried-together strands, and he yanked them back out again and looked around for a cup of some sort.  There would be a well on the property.  Hopefully.  He returned to the yard in search of it, the heat assaulting him as though he had walked through an invisible wall into hell.  He squinted through the sun and spotted a single tired tree set back from the house, below which was the well.  The red brick forming it was crumbling, the circular wood cover was rotten, and the crank was frozen with rust, but the rope and its attached bucket looked as though they worked.  He removed the lid and dropped the bucket inside, where it landed somewhere down below with a blessedly distinct splash.  It was hard work without being able to use the crank, but he got the bucket back up and dipped the cracked mug taken from the kitchen inside of it.  The water, though not as clear as he would have liked, was cool and loosened his nearly closed throat.  He gulped down three cups in quick succession and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  He looked up at the truck.  He had left the driver’s side door open, but he felt no inclination to close it before returning to the house.  It wasn’t as though anyone were likely to come all the way out here to steal it.  Those yokels probably thought he had returned to the city.  Well, he would show them.  This was all going to be a little more difficult than he had anticipated, but it was going to be fine.  

He went back into the house and lay down in the bedroom.  He could not escape the heat there, either, but the bed appeared to be the sturdiest thing remaining and he could get some sleep now and spend the cooler night looking over the land behind the house.  It was a good plan.  A smart plan.

The scent of the bedclothes – mildew or mold – sat heavy in his nose.  Sweat beaded upon his skin even as it simultaneously seemed cold as ice.  He slept a little, but every time he got close to that sought-after depth he would be awoken by a sharp pain in his stomach.  He had his arm strewn across his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the light, and after some hours of this he simply waited for the sun to fade.  When it had he swung his legs over the side of the bed and watched dully as some small rodent skittered out from beneath it to dart behind the dresser.  It was missing a drawer.  The idea of someone coming into this house to steal it caused a high-pitched laugh to spill from his mouth.  He was not quite sure where it had come from.

His light-headedness made him consider searching the kitchen for food, but oddly he wasn’t hungry.  It could wait until he came back, he decided, and returned to the well to drink his fill.  He then clambered back into the truck and pulled the door closed.

The heat had barely faded.

He started the engine.  The air conditioning remained unusable.  He entertained the idea of driving with the door open for a few moments, then set off with it closed.

The fields behind the house were thick with whatever had been planted last, the stalks towering over him like a forest.  Without being able to see the moon, it seemed as though they were glowing from the inside out.  His arms twitched and yanked the steering wheel to the left, and when his panicked legs slammed the brake pedal to the floor the engine stalled a third time.  His heart was pounding in his chest.  It should have been, but not that hard.  

A sudden coldness came over him.  It wasn’t a chill or a momentary shiver; no, it was as though ice had developed somewhere beneath his flesh.  He pulled his discarded shirt back on and buttoned it all the way up to the neck.  His throat was as dry as if he’d never drunk anything at all, and the pain in his stomach had become more insistent.  The scent of the truck seemed to have crawled physically inside of his mouth, so that it seemed his vinyl tongue was surrounded by a plastic mouth, and his hand scrabbled along the rough texture of the door until he was able to locate and yank upon the door release.  He pushed his way out of the truck, unsure if he had actually tried to get his legs underneath him.  He pulled himself through the dust and used his knees to leverage himself to stand.  His hands were shaking and he was still cold though he knew heat hung still in the night air.  The looming stalks drew his pulse into his throat, so he instead looked up into the sky.  It was not as empty as he had known it back home.  The sky was not even black as he had always thought, it was a blue the depth of which hurt his eyes to attempt to understand, but the eerie gold-white tracing the lengths of the grain around him was no better and he pressed his palms over his face in an attempt to shut all of it out.  When he removed them he was on the ground again within the stalks, shivering, and when he tried to get up the pain in his gut pressed him to his knees and he found himself vomiting into dirt he could not even see.  

No relief came.  He was still shaking, still cold, stomach still in knots, and as he moved back onto the dirt road he realised he did not remember which direction he had come from.  He had pulled the wheel to the left, but how hard?  Had he turned the truck around, or had he merely turned left and stopped there?  Looking for it now, the road seemed to have become indistinct.  As though it were only there if you knew where it was.  He remained there on his knees and stared with increasing panic into the blue-black distance.  The only light came from the moon slung, low and fat, overhead, and the dark stalks seemed to stretch off into eternity in every direction.  He struggled to his feet and pulled himself into the truck, the steering wheel his life preserver.  He twisted the key in the ignition.

Silence.

He turned it again.  Again.  He yanked it out and thrust it back in.  Tried to.  The key scraped against the steering column as his frantic hand failed to connect it with its target.  He forced it in and turned it and held it and held it.  His face was pressed to the steering wheel and his other hand was gripping the top of it with an unnatural strength.  The truck didn’t start.  The truck wouldn’t start.  The truck refused to start.

He couldn’t stay here.  He was going to have to find his way back to the house.  To the main road.  Before the sun came up.  Someone would come by.  Someone would come by and help him.  He managed to get the glove box open and put the key alongside the spare.  He closed it and got back out and leaned against the side of the truck, his hand gripping the door handle.  He pressed the door closed, kept pressing longer than he needed to without knowing why, and then he stepped away from it and turned towards his best guess of where he had come from.  His steps were leaden.  His entire body threatened to turn liquid at any moment.  And he was tired.  Maybe it was better to stay in the truck.  He’d been seen at that house.  Maybe someone would come to check up on him.  See how he was settling in.  See if he needed anything.  He looked over his shoulder at the truck and his body, frozen, seemed to draw dread from the very dirt up through his rooted feet.  

It sat at an angle to him, both shimmering headlights visible from where he was standing.  The parts of it that remained hidden from the moonlight seemed so dark he imagined that, if he put his hand there, it would disappear entirely.  The truck gleamed as though the moonlight were coming from within the metal body, not without, and the shine of the polished steel was, somehow, almost blinding.  It seemed content.  Like it belonged there.  Like it wanted to be there.

He took a step back.  He half-expected it to move.  For the front wheels to turn towards him a fraction of an inch, or for the windshield wipers to cross their glass expanse just once, or for the orange hazard lights to set the stalks ablaze.  A sudden rustling cut through the night air and he fell.  From his position in the dirt the truck seemed to increase in size, the dark curve of the tires poised to shift towards him, and he scrabbled backwards on his elbows to get away from it.  It sat, dispassionate and patient.  It wanted something and he didn’t want to know what it was.  He ignored the roiling of his stomach and the shaking of his legs and the sandpaper of his throat and he stood up and he ran into the field.  He would come out somewhere.  He would come back later.  Have one of the locals look at it, see what was wrong with it.  After they helped him.  After they found him.

The truck waited.

A half-hearted bale of hay was deposited in the back by someone who never returned for it.  Birds and other small creatures who attempted to nest in it were almost immediately set upon by passing predators.  A group of teenagers stumbled upon it during a night of illicit drinking, moonshine stolen from the boarding house up the road sloshing out of loosely-held bottles, and one of them abruptly became so violently ill they had to be carried back home.  None of them remembered where they had been or how they had gotten there.  The truck remained undisturbed.

Summer was breathing its defiant last when he arrived.

He was nineteen and had grown as far into his limbs as he ever would, which gave his movement an unnatural and forced grace.  His clothes covered nearly every pale inch of him, including a wide straw hat which did not quite hide a thatch of hair the colour of rust.  The too-large eyes behind his smudged glasses were a nearly translucent blue and they shone like glass.  When they alit upon the truck he stopped.  He looked.  He circled it and looked again.  His entrance into the truck was unhurried, and when he found the keys in the glovebox he sat and he thought.  He slid the key into the ignition and started the engine and turned on the air conditioner.  He was there only a few minutes, but it was long enough.

He paused to look at it before disappearing again into the corn.  It would still be there tomorrow, as it had been yesterday and the day before.  

They had a long way to go.  They had a lot left to do.  

-

Author’s note

Did a pickup truck need a backstory?  No.  Did I give it one anyway?  I sure did.

#so says Indy #fanfic from Indy #Scarecrow #time for bed

[isolationstreet]

22, 44, 65 for Arnoud 🖤

This also got quite long quite quicky so it's going under the cut

22. What is a promise that they have broken.

Honestly that's kinda of a difficult question to answer becuse due to both his lack of people hes close to and his lack of faith in himself making promises is something he actively avoids doing

So instead I will cover the promises he has made and their current status

1. He promised his cousins Darr and Jezzika that he would find out why they have been slipping in and out of time and from location to location having so far been unable to accomplish their task of finding The Black Key for Cecily. They also asked him to let Cecily know that they're still working to accomplish their task if shes asks becuase they all know how cruel she can be when she dosent get exactly what she wants. He said he would try but he never promised he would but it's still relevant.

He found their corpses rotting in a basement two weeks later having signs of having been decomposing for at least six weeks. He's currently still working with them on a daily basis and s big goal they have is to fix the cycle of life/death/rebirth that had been broken 20 years ago because in that time no spirits have been able to move on most getting trapped on the 9th layer of hell but some of which like Darr and Jezzika with particularly stong connections and goals are trapped in the world.

2. Remeber how Arnoud didnt promise Darr and Jezzika that he would tell Cecily that they're on task. Well when Cecily asked he told her that they had been dead for nearly two months. To which she responded by once again reminding him of the importance of withholding information and also her "kindness and mercy" by murdering their parents so they would never have to mourn the deaths of their children.

When Arnoud told them about this interaction they didnt really blame him becuse they know how she is but they did ask he burry them with their family in Wirholme if he ever got the chance. He promised he would the party hasn't made it that far south yet but their corpses are in a bag of holding untill we can get there.

3. Davidian Vanderwall is an interesting character I havent had much chance to talk about and he deserves a few rants of his own but what's necessary here is 500 years ago he met Umbril D'Kane and became obsessed with her immortality. He thought if he could live forever there would be no limit to the lives he could save. He tracked her down and drank her blood. Neither of them are vampires but it was enough to give him her curse.

Over centuries of fighting and watching everyone he knew either die or turn on him for what hed done he became weary and wanted it all to be over he turned to umbril seeking release unable to die untill she does. He became tied and trapped as her errand boy who's only wish became their mutual destruction.

Arnoud even though hes not a grave cleric quite yet he still has always had a very strong belief in decay and its importance in all of its forms. He also knows what it's like to be ensnared and abused by a hot evil magic lady.

So Arnoud promised hed do what he could to help him find a true and peaceful death and when he met umbril he did the same for her.

A bunch of stuff has gone down in the game since then. I suspect that Umbril has fully been murdered by Cecily based off of how shes been acting lately. I'll find out for sure next session. As for the current whereabouts of Davidian it's been at least three months since anyone in our party has made contact with him. As far as we know hes off in the swamp somewhere trying to contact the Cabal of Decay to give them the severed head of the god of Murder. How recent events with Umbril have affected him I'm unable to say.

4. The biggest promise he made was to himself. 23 years ago he promised himself he would destroy the monster that desecrated his mother grave 13 years ago that same monster very directly destroyed his life. That monster being Cecily.

Whether or not he broke that promise by falling in love with her is up for debate. Hes no longer trying to put a stake through her heart but he is softening it and in a very literal way hes trying to save her soul remove the things that made her a monster in the first place.

#oc tag #arnoud darkwell #thank you for asking 🥺🖤 #i answerd all of this but for some reason the last two got deleted 😭

[mwahkazu]

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙏𝙀𝙉: 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙑𝙄𝙀𝙒…𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙏

✦﹒stealing the spotlight﹒✶﹒﹒a genshin smau.

⸝⸝ chapter warnings: none!

the car ride is filled with an unusual silence.

lynette glances over to lyney, taking notice of the way his head starts to slowly droop along with his eyelids that grow heavier with each passing minute. she lets out a sigh, resting her chin on her hand as she gazes out the car window.

“lyney, you’re slouching.” she says in passing, watching her brother through the window as his head shoots up and he attempts to shake himself awake. “tired?”

“no, of course not.” lyney answers, almost too quickly and in a rather defensive tone, turning away to look out the window at the passing pedestrians and buildings outside.

in response to that, lynette refrains from pushing the matter even further. instead she looks back at her brother with concern. “we don’t have to do this interview if you don’t want to you know.”

“i’ll be fine lynette.” the car gradually comes to a stop and lyney’s eyes scan the countless fans crowded outside the building, all waiting excitedly for the twins’ arrival. an indiscernible expression on his face as he does so. he doesn’t even turn to look at lynette when he adds on, “i’ve got this under control.”

the interview was to be held at the steambird broadcast, a place widely recognized for hosting televised interviews in front of a live audience with countless celebrities. surprisingly enough, this would be lyney and lynette’s first official interview with this agency. they had previously reached out to the superstar duo the year prior to have them on the show when their debut album broke records as did their fame.

however at the time, the two had been swamped with other responsibilities along with a full blown tour that sold millions. so needless to say, they had little time to sit down for a humble interview.

backstage in the dressing rooms, lynette kept a close eye on her brother. he was rather quiet today, which was definitely not normal for someone as eager for a conversation as him. he wasn’t telling the stylist the change his clothes because he didn’t like the one picked out for him or nagging the makeup artist to get his look right and he wasn’t even flaunting about how stunning he looks in the end. such strange behavior even had the entire staff and crew bewildered.

and that same behavior would follow him as the broadcast began and they were introduced onto the set by host, charlotte. despite her perky and persistent character as a show host, lyney would only answer questions directed to him specifically, leaving lynette to do most of the talking on both of their behalfs. she was definitely going to be socially drained by the end of this. but of course, no one made mention of such and the interview carried on like normal.

until a particular question had been brought up. one that lynette had been dreading and praying to not be asked at all.

“now i’m sure most of your fans here are aware of this fact, but i want to get your personal opinions on the matter.” charlotte said, briefly looking over her notes. “though i’m sure you’ve heard of this person before since they’ve been the talk of the town after all, but what are your thoughts on the unofficial artist by the name of [name]? they recently covered one of your newest songs in a video and i mean, that video practically went viral overnight much like your fame!”

“oh [name] you say,” lynette began, pausing for a second to carefully look for any subtle changes in lyney’s body language from the corner of her eyes. “it’s as you put it charlotte. their video has even gained more views than the original which can no doubt be because of the exceptional talent they hold.”

“would you both consider working with such a person as a collaboration of sorts?” charlotte asked, looking at the twins with anticipation.

“ah that… well we actually–”

“are planning a collaboration with them right now as we speak!” lyney had suddenly chimed in.

upon hearing such a bombshell of an announcement the audience became enamored with excitement. for the briefest of moments, a look of genuine shock flashes across lynette’s face the moment her brother’s words registered in her mind, rendering her speechless. was he being serious right now?

unfortunately, due to the current circumstances of being on live television and prying eyes of an audience, lynette was forced to keep her composure. masking her confused demeanor with a pleasant cordial smile she’s learned to masterfully display on command from previous engagements. she would speak again once the audience had calmed down. “that’s right! we’ve been working on such a thing behind the scenes. it’s just been kept a secret up until now…apparently.”

“what an unexpected announcement!” charlotte exclaims, eyes brimming with pure intrigue and practically begging for more information on the matter. “you’ve certainly blown your fans out of the ballpark with this one! could we perhaps get some potential hints about what to expect from this collaboration?”

this time lynette couldn’t even get a single word out in hopes of trying to de-escalate the situation, as lyney was already two steps ahead of her. “well, i wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” he began in that classic dulcet voice of his that had fans fawning over. “after all, surprises are much more enjoyable when the audience doesn’t know what to expect, right?”

“oh c’mon, not even the tiniest of hints?” charlotte questions, “i’m sure everyone here and those who are tuning in right now are dying to know what will come out of this unexpected, yet greatly welcomed, collaboration.”

he feigns a small hum in ponder, before glancing back to charlotte and the crowd with a look of mischief. “let’s just say, you can never know what will happen in the blink of an eye.”

end note: and with that ladies and gentlemen and fellow nonbinary pals marks the end of the first act and the start of act two (soon)!

it certainly took me a bit to try and figure out how this part of the story would play out and admittedly had a bit of a writer’s block which is why this part took so long to come out. not to mention i suddenly got sick so i had to postpone writing this even more- but i managed to work something out that i’m satisfied with for now :3

i’ll hold off on a fun story fact for this post because i can’t think of any to include at the moment. i’ll see you all in act two!! <33

STEALING THE SPOTLIGHT - masterlist. | « prev. | next. »

ੈ✩‧₊˚ synopsis ; ━ lyney and lynette, the tantalizing duo that have taken the music industry by storm: dominating the charts, selling out shows, enrapturing the hearts of many, you name it. naturally, with their ever-growing stardom, it’s no surprise hundreds of aspiring artists cover their songs, which lyney finds pathetically cute—in an endearing way of course! after all, he absolutely adores his fans above all. what he doesn’t find amusing though is when a seemingly unknown underground artist like you covers one of his songs that practically blows up on the internet, outshining the original. but when lyney decides to confront you personally about such a matter, you’re left at a loss because—who the hell is this spoiled brat of a celebrity?

taglist (closed 31/31) ; ━ the taglist for this smau is currently closed! i will consider opening it up again at some point if multiple people are looking to be added. thank you for the support!

@peaceindreams , @miwafei , @whipped-for-fictionals , @blissfullyapillow , @yotraumainthebuilding , @reixtsu , @almond-t0fu , @quacking-simp , @kika-a , @kookiibun , @silentmissinghallucination , @sleepyeri , @xiaossocksniffer , @14-paradise , @kaitfae , @cupid-spams , @semi-orangeapple , @scarletttcroww , @sl-vega , @ethiy , @swivy123 , @ceneid , @kunikuzushis-darling , @beasalmeh , @enjisthings , @lloovvv , @sn1perz , @dreamyysouls , @glxssmemories , @calx-bdo , @lacunaanonymoused

#stealing the spotlight! ✩ #genshin smau #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact lyney #genshin lyney #lyney #lyney smau #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #lyney x gn reader #lyney x gender neutral reader

[whimsicallyreading]

For Rowaelin Month day 17

 “A sick day”

CW- PTSD, mentions of violence

Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.

She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.

Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.

Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.

Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.

Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.

So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.

She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.

Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.

I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.

Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.

"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.

Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.

Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.

"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."

Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.

"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"

Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.

"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"

Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."

"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."

Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.

"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.

Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."

Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.

"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."

Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.

The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.

She should have stayed there.

Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.

She should have stayed there.

Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.

She should have stayed there.

More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.

Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.

"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"

Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"

Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.

"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.

Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."

"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.

She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.

Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."

"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.

Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."

Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."

"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."

"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"

Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.

"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."

Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."

"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."

Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."

As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.

~~~

"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"

Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."

Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."

"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."

"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.

"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"

"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.

Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."

"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."

Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."

A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.

~~~

Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.

"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"

Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.

"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"

Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"

Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.

"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"

It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.

Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.

Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."

Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"

That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"

Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.

"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."

Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"

"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.

"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"

"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"

"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.

Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"

"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."

Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"

"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."

"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.

A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."

Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."

His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.

Happiness.

Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."

Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.  

Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.

There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.

#throne of glass #rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #fanfic #tog #angst #rowan x aelin #ptsd #sick day #baby fic #canon #sjm #sjmaas

[treesnutsandleaveswrites]

Stay Close

pPairing: The Bad Batch x Reader (Polyam)

Summary: After working non-stop, you go on a mission with the Batch and you get to be on the field with them this time. (Polyam series pt 6)

Warning: ANGST, some fluff, mentions of slavery, depictions of violence, blood and injuries

Word Count: 2190

A/N: I FINALLY KNOW CROSSHAIR'S LITTLE THING ON THE SHIP IS CALLED A GUNNER'S MOUNT CUZ OF THE RECENT EPISODE HAHA

pt v, pt vii

XXXXXXX

It had been a week ever since your break in Coruscant. That time and the moments that followed have been playing in your head non-stop ever since you got back to Kamino. However, once you got back, you were swamped with work. You were one of the only non-clone communications officers based on Kamino, so you had to deal with some data that came in from off-planet bases. It was frustrating to say the least and most of the clones who dealt with communication for their squadron left most of their work unprocessed, so you basically had to clean up after them. Due to work being unprocessed and sorted could cause a malfunction or even a virus to attack the computer system on Kamino. That would result in multiple horrible outcomes if the separatists get access to anything on the clones or any other upcoming projects the Kaminoans were working on for the Republic.

It seemed like you were living in that communications room because none of the boys really saw you anywhere else. It concerned them greatly and they decided to intervene before you die from overworking yourself. You were typing away on the computer when the door slid open which let in the batch one by one. You didn’t bother to turn to acknowledge them as you were sorting out multiple files.

“Mesh’la?” Hunter called.

“Hm.” You responded nonchalantly, still working.

“You’ve been at this for 93 hours, 34 minutes, and 20 seconds.” Tech explained while looking at one of his devices, “Working at this rate is concerning and unhealthy, especially for a simple being like you.”

“Huh… so if a clone were doing this they’d be able to work just a bit longer?” You asked, not looking away from the computer.

“What he’s trying to say, cyare, is that you need to take a break…” Echo insisted, placing one hand on your shoulder.

“I’m almost done, I swear.” You murmured, looking over data being transferred.

“Lucky for you, darling. I’ve created a program to help sort stuff out.” Tech went to the computer and plugged a small goober into one of the ports on the console, “It’ll notify me when it’s done sorting.”

“Come on, ad’ika, time for rest!” Wrecker moved to pick you up and carry you out of the communications room while the others followed.

You all arrived to their room and Wrecker tossed you onto one of the bunks, which caused you to laugh gently. You sighed, relished the feel of the bed under you, then it dipped slightly. You looked to see Hunter with a gentle smile on his face, which you returned before he pulled you up onto his lap. You pushed off the bandana around his forehead which caused some hair to fall into his face so you pushed it away for him. He held you closer, placed his face into your chest, and sighed.

“You alright, Hunter?’ You murmured, caressing the hair on the back of his neck.

“He’s missed you, like the rest of us have.” Echo smiled while cleaning his mechanical hand.

“It wasn’t like I was off-planet. I was just working.”

“Well, the idea of you working usually involves being with us most of the time.” Tech explained, “So it was odd not seeing you for such a long period of time.”

You hummed before kissing Hunter’s head, “I missed you all too…”

The next day, all of you were sent on an important mission. The Kaminoans didn’t give you much detail, only saying that it was urgent. You sat on the Havoc Marauder, looking over the map of the planet on your holopad.

“We have to be careful, this planet is famous for raiders, thieves, and smugglers.” You stated, looking everything over.

“We’ve handled much worse than that combined!” Wrecker laughed while slapping Tech’s back, almost causing him to drop the device he was holding. You shook your head, made your way out of the cockpit, and found Crosshair cleaning the parts of his sniper rifle.

“Do you think it’ll come to that?” You murmured, crouching beside him.

“Have to be prepared for anything, sarad. Especially on a planet like this.”

You nodded gently, picking up one of the pieces, “You should teach me…”

“How to put it together, or how to shoot?”

“Both… but we can take it one step at a time.” You looked at him with a smile.

He hooked your chin, “Well, let’s work on your aim without a blaster first. And test how good your eyesight is. When we get back to Kamino, I’ll show you the shooting range.”

“Kamino has a shooting range?”

Your question caused Crosshair to smirk as he finished cleaning all the pieces.

You shook your head with a small laugh, “I guess I don’t know Kamino as well as I should.”

He nodded gently and helped you up. Before you could move away from him, he grasped your wrist. His smirk was gone, his eyes were now focussed, and his stature became tense. He raised his other hand to cup your cheek and look into your eyes.

“You stay close to us…”

“I know, Cross…”

He nodded before going to the gunner’s mount to wait there until you landed. You strapped in as you were arriving at your destination. Once you landed, you all geared up and got ready to tread through the town to reach your target. You wore simple civilian clothing because it wasn’t safe to be wearing a Republic uniform full of outlaws and mercenaries. You pulled up the hood of your cloak over your head before nodding to Hunter. You all then left the ship and headed into town.

Tech was using a tracking device while you walked the streets, he was babbling on while you and the others looked cautiously at your surroundings. There were multiple stalls along the edge of the dirt street, selling many different things including spice, weaponry, and droid parts. You were in the center of the batch, and they urged themselves closer as if to shield you from danger. Hunter turned his head to you, which caused you to nod reassuringly. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes through the visor of his helmet, you knew he was checking up on you. You all then turned into a vacant alleyway to discuss how you will find the target faster. The boys discuss different strategies and you tried to listen to them, but then the crack of a whip caused your attention to be caught outside of the alleyway. One of the vendors was holding the weapon and using it against a young twi’lek. They were speaking two different languages, so the chaos was uncontrollable. You winced while watching and couldn’t stand it any longer. The batch noticed at the last second that you had rushed out of the alley to stop what was happening.

“Lodestar!” One of them called to you, but you ignored it and blocked the vendor from hitting the young twi’lek again.

“That’s enough!”

The vendor growled, “The little slave was stealing from my stall!”

You quickly placed down some currency, “Now it is paid for.”

The vendor took the money and scoffed, “They are lucky this time. Next time, I will tell their master.”

You shook your head and urged the twi’lek away from the stall. Then you crouched down and looked at the child’s injuries, whispering gently. You were lucky enough to be familiar with many languages due to your past, so making conversation with the young twi’lek wasn’t hard. Footsteps approached the both of you, so you let the child run off and turned to see the batch. It was going to be no surprise that they were upset with you, so you said nothing and followed them. Tech had found the location of the target, so you all moved quickly. You had to separate due to the package you had to retrieve being heavily guarded. You were with Tech, helping him monitor the motion inside of the small building where your package was being held. You scanned the holopad before speaking into your communicator.

“Careful, Hunter. There are multiple bodies coming toward you.”

“See them. Find how many are guarding the package.”

Tech diligently moved the camera and you watch on the holopad.

“There,” You signalled Tech to stop and looked over the thermal radar, “Five that I can see, Hunter.”

“Cross, what’s your status?”

“None up top. All clear here.”

“Wrecker, Echo?”

“Almost have the grate open.” Echo responded.

“Charges are all set.” Wrecker confirmed.

You winced gently, looking down at your arm where the whip had caught you. You thought it was only a graze on the fabric, but it was deeper and blood was staining your sleeve. Tech saw it and was about to say something, but then there was noise near where you two were hiding. It was one of the guards and he was sniffing around. Your eyes widened and you looked to Tech before placing the holopad in his hands carefully.

“Our location is about to be compromised, I’m moving now.” You said quickly before climbing up to the roof of the building next to you. You looked over the ledge and kicked a small piece of rubble, getting the guard. He looked up and saw you. You smiled gently before running along the tops of the buildings. He ran along the street following your trail.

“Cross, I’m coming to you.”

“Excellent.” He responded and he started to set up his rifle before you reached him. You jumped onto the roof where he was set up and turned to see the guard shot down. He then stood up and looked at you. You sensed the disappointment.

“What?”

“You were reckless today.”

“I stayed close.” You shrugged, looking at the cut on your arm. He grabbed it gently and looked at it.

“How did you not notice that?”

You were quiet while looking at him, but then a small glint caught your eye and you gasped before pushing him away from you.

Blaster noises distracted the team from the mission, knowing it came from your and Crosshair’s location. Hunter had retrieved the package and had come out of the grate where Echo and Wrecker were..

“Lodestar! Come in!” Static.

“Crosshair!” Silence.

Then, guards started to rush around the corner. The three batchers rushed away and Wrecker had set off the explosives he placed around that area.

“Tech, head back to the Havoc Marauder! Echo and Wrecker will meet you there!”

“What about you?” Echo asked.

“I’ve got to find Crosshair and Lodestar.”

Hunter handed Wrecker the package and they went their separate ways. Hunter managed to get to one of the rooftops and rushed to where you and Crosshair were. He jumped onto the roof where you were and saw the dead alien, a blaster next to him. Then his eyes led to familiar white hair.

“Crosshair!” He rushed over to his side and saw you laying in his lap, unconscious, with a blaster wound on your side. He immediately noticed the race of Crosshair’s heart, and sensed his growing shock, so he placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“We have to go. We have to get back to Kamino.”

Crosshair nodded before letting Hunter pick you up and rushed with him back to the Havoc Marauder. They arrived back to the ship.

“Tech! Echo! Get us out of here now!” Hunter called as he boarded the ship with you in his arms. Wrecker was frozen with shock when he saw you.

“Ad’ika.” He whispered.

The ship moved quickly out of orbit and it was only a few minutes before everyone gathered together. Tech and Echo were rendered silent when they saw you on the floor with Hunter by your side as he exposed your wound.

“I need a bacta patch, now!”

Crosshair was the one to move to get it and give it to him. He took his place on your other side and helped Hunter.

“So...so pale…” Tech whispered, almost speechless as he looked at your condition.

Hunter was getting extremely overstimulated with everyone’s heartbeats and breathing, but he tried to focus on you. Tech was right: you were extremely pale, but as Hunter sifted through the different pulses reaching his ears, he found your weak one. He cupped your face.

“Mesh’la…” He called, “C’mon, mesh’la.”

“Can we lightspeed jump to Kamino?” Echo asked Tech.

“I...I don’t know…”

“Figure it out, Tech! Hurry!” Wrecker pleaded, his eyes averting from you to him.

Crosshair was extremely quiet with his eyes only on you. A million thoughts ran through his head. It felt like minutes before he spoke.

“Do the jump.”

“What?” Tech asked.

“Do the jump, now.” Crosshair repeated.

“We don’t know if it’ll make the wound worse.” Echo explained.

“If it does, we’ll be at Kamino!”

“Cross, it’s too dangerous-” Echo started. “We have to, or else the Kaminoans will have no patient, and we’ll have a dead officer!” Crosshair snapped, gripping your hand in his.

The rest of the squad looked to Hunter, who nodded.

“Do the jump.”

XXXXXXX

Sorry for the wait haha -Tree <3

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #bad batch #bad batch x reader #hunter #crosshair #wrecker #echo #tech #clone force 99 #tbb polyam series #treesnutsandleaves writes #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #tech x reader #echo x reader

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

I'm Yours

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: There's kissing. A lot of kissing. Just some teenagers being dumb really. No canon characters were harmed in the making of this fic. I didn't include a cheating aspect since I don't write for that kind of stuff, but there's still some jealous!Kirishima here >:3

Author's Note:

Uhhhh I kinda forgot to make this fluffy . . . .

Thanks to uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwi from Wattpad for requesting! (that's a really fun username hehe)

Enjoy!

-Sugar

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Swamped.

That was the only way he could describe it. Kirishima didn’t think he’d ever been so busy, and he wasn’t the only one.

Finals had the entirety of the hero course stressed, especially the second-years like himself. Between training, doing homework, and going to class, there wasn’t exactly room for being social. Any time he was able to hang out with his friends, they were studying together. Nothing he'd really describe as 'fun'. And that’s what had him feeling the worst about all this.

He’d started dating you a few weeks ago—going on three months now, actually. Things had been going well between the two of you. You liked him and he really liked you, so to him, there hadn't been any type of problem.

Even so, there was something a little unique about your relationship: no one knew about it. You yourself were never one for letting others get too involved in your business. And besides, you also knew the nature of most high school relationships. Maybe you’d announce yourselves as a couple and make a big fuss only to grow tired of the other and end it all within the first month. But clearly, that hadn’t happened.

There was a strange thrill to keeping your relationship a secret; a novelty your boyfriend hadn't expected. Though he wasn’t much for dishonesty, Kirishima practically lived for the stolen glances across the classroom you’d share, and the way he’d sneak you behind the school for impromptu makeout sessions with no one ever the wiser. You were his little secret, and he was yours.

Until it had all come to a grinding halt with the extra schoolwork.

He still tried to make time to spend with you in one of your dorm rooms, but the both of you finally had to admit to yourselves that neither of you could get any work or studying done when you were alone together. And so it was back to study groups; holding hands under the table as either Bakugou or Yaoyorozu went over the newest batch of hero laws that needed to be memorized.

God, how he wished this could all be over. Kirishima just wanted things to be normal again. When was the last time he’d even seen you? He could remember watching the back of your head duck out of the classroom at the end of the day, but after? . . . Nothing.

He frowned at the physics worksheet laid before him, mind wandering to thoughts of you as one of his sharp teeth sunk into the eraser at the end of his pencil. Kirishima supposed he should go check on you later, once he’d finished up his assignments for the evening.

…

“Did you see (L/N) yesterday?”

Kirishima’s ears unconsciously perked up at the sound of your name. He stood with his tray in the lunch line directly behind some of his female classmates. They were chatting amongst themselves as they slowly stepped forward. Kirishima wasn’t generally one to listen in on conversations he wasn’t a part of, but now they’d captured his interest. Had one of them seen him sneaking into your room?

“No, I didn’t,” Uraraka said in response to Ashido. “Is she alright?”

“Of course she is,” the pink-haired girl said, rolling her abnormal black and amber eyes as she reached for a clementine. “Actually, she may be doing more than alright.”

Kirishima swallowed. Uh-oh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jirou asked, sounding largely uninterested in gossiping about her fellow classmate.

“Well,” Ashido began, bouncing a little on her toes, “I saw her on the tech floor yesterday and you won’t believe who she was talking to.”

“Who?” Jirou asked dryly, probably hoping to get the discussion over with as quickly as possible.

“Kobayashi Tatsuo. The third year,” Mina announced proudly.

The redhead behind them quietly sighed. Thank goodness. They still didn't know.

“And?” Uraraka questioned.

“They were totally flirting!” Ashido said. “(L/N)’s bagged a cute upperclassman boy! They’ll be dating soon, I just know it! If they aren’t already.” She smugly leveled her shoulders, grinning with an odd look of satisfaction.

What?

“I guess that’s good for her,” Jirou commented, picking up her tray from the lunch bar in order to follow her friends to a table.

“I know, right?” Mina said excitedly as they walked off. “And he’s totally cute too! I wish a hot guy would pay attention to me for once.”

Kirishima watched them leave, almost forgetting to grab lunch for himself after being so absorbed in what they were saying.

The majority of him knew he shouldn’t pay any mind to it. This sort of thing was bound to happen. Of course his peers try to figure out who was involved with who, even if it wasn’t really accurate or from the most credible source. The girls didn’t know that you were already taken by someone else, in fact, the very person behind them in line.

At least now he knew where you’d gone after class yesterday . . . but why? What were you doing on the tech floor? And who was this third year you were talking to?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Kaminari’s voice. Kirishima returned the greeting, sliding into his seat next to his friend. As he settled into the atmosphere of his usual table, he couldn’t help but scan the cafeteria for your face, just as he had done every day, even before you were dating.

But for the first time, his search came up empty. You were nowhere to be seen.

…

Kobayashi wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be spending your lunch with.

Really, a part of you wondered why you had to skip going to the cafeteria at all today. But then you remembered the stack of work that sat on your desk. It stubbornly refused to ever shrink, no matter what you did. Recently, it felt like as soon as you got one thing done, two more assignments would find their way right back at the bottom. And this was just another one you had to deal with.

While reviewing your materials for your upcoming finals, you’d begun to take note of other heroes’ costumes and support items. Particularly, you’d taken interest in a hero from Ukraine who’d debuted a few decades ago. Your quirk was wildly similar to his and you couldn’t help but further research his techniques, costume, and gadgets that enhanced his abilities.

You weren’t one to copy. Actually, you quite liked the way your current costume functioned and looked, with its own unique style of your own. Even so, you’d read things about him and his quirk that you honestly hadn’t even thought of for yourself, and you’d begun to make a special section in your notebook for improvements to your hero ensemble. Was it the best use of your time? Perhaps not, but you did have a practical exam coming up, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if these improvements you were sketching might make all the difference in your performance . . . .

You decided you could use an upgrade. Which is exactly why you went to the second-year in the support course who was in charge of making adjustments to your costume. Until your hopes were immediately dashed when you found out he was sick. Determined, you went to the next best option: Kobayashi.

He was a nice enough boy. Tall, witty, and a whole year older. You hadn’t expected to be spending so much time with him over the past week, but for whatever reason, he kept calling you back to his workspace in the shop for ‘daily check-ins’. At least he was making good progress.

But now you were spending your lunch hour eating with him. It felt strange, being alone in a different classroom with the guy—not an uncomfortable strange, merely “I’m not used to being here”. You’d let him borrow your notebook full of sketches for your costume, and that’s what he was going over with you now.

He’d ask you for clarification on one of your notes before jotting something down of his own right next to your handwriting. He had also been eager to show you his process, explaining the steps of what he was doing while you ate from your bento.

To be honest, it was kind of nice being in a different setting. Kobayashi was fun to listen to; it was clear he was passionate about what he was doing.

But still, he ran out of things to talk about. That was, when it came to your hero suit. Figuring it was too late to go back to the cafeteria anyway, he ate his own lunch with you, striking up a new conversation.

At first, you didn’t pay any mind to it. But then you began to take notice of how close he sat. Then you realized how eager he was to make you laugh, how smoothly the casual chatter flowed between you. And then it struck you just how much he peppered in compliments to you. Finally, it clicked.

Uh-oh.

You refused to meet his gaze when he waved you off after the bell rang. Dashing away, you wondered how serious he might be. Did he actually like you? No, perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

Then again, he had been being awfully nice to you ever since you’d met. But what if that was just how he was? Kaminari could be like that at times, and you knew he didn’t usually mean anything too serious behind it. Or—well—perhaps Denki the Flirt was a bad example for your case. Still . . . how were you supposed to make it clear to Kobayashi that you weren’t interested?

You shook your head to clear it of these thoughts. He hadn’t actually done anything, so what was the point of worrying about it? You were loyal to Eijirou, you knew that. You’d made a commitment to him just as he had to you, and that was all there was to it. No matter what, you’d continue whatever it was you had with him. Kobayashi wasn’t an issue you should be losing sleep over. Besides, you were probably reading too far into things anyway.

Content with the conclusions you’d made, you walked back into your homeroom class for fifth period. Settling into your seat, you faced the chalkboard in front of you, awaiting the return of Aizawa-sensei, unaware of the pair of ruby eyes fixed on your back.

…

Kirishima shot up from his desk the moment he heard a soft knock on his door. As soon as he opened up his room, you came barreling into his arms. “Hey!” he greeted you, reciprocating the hug.

“Study break!” you announced quietly, not wanting to alert his neighbors of your presence.

He tittered happily to himself, leading your bodies back to his desk where he could sit you on his lap in his chair. Settling comfortably on his thighs, you were quick to slot your lips against his. Kirishima melted into your touch.

How many days had it been since he’d last gotten a chance to kiss you? Two? Three? Either way, it had been far too long.

“Shall we take this to the bed?” he joked after a few minutes of kissing.

You chuckled at his harmless allusion. “You know I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I lay down.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, concern morphing his features. “Have you been getting enough rest with all this going on?”

“No,” you admitted. “I was up last night with my English flashcards. I swear Present Mic is trying to kill me with this new vocab, it’s like I can’t get it in my head at all.”

“I could help you study it,” your boyfriend offered, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“That would be productive,” you said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “What was it last time? ‘If I get a set right, I’ll get a kiss’ and then next thing I know, we’re making out on your bed for twenty minutes.”

He grinned up at you coyly. “At least I made studying fun.”

“That wasn’t studying!” you protested with a grin. “Speaking of, my timer’s going to go off soon—” you pressed your lips against his for a moment, “—and I want more kisses.”

Kirishima let you have your way with him, threading your fingers through his hair while you savored the taste of his lips. But there was something still nagging at the back of his mind.

“(Y/N)?” he asked when your phone buzzed and you pulled away. “Where were you during lunch today?”

You shrugged, pulling your phone out of your pocket to silence it. “I’m getting improvements on my hero costume. My regular guy got sick so I’m working with this third-year dude.”

“Ohhh.” Kirishima’s worries dissipated almost instantly. “So that’s why you were on the tech floor.”

Confused, you frowned. “Did you see me there or something?”

“Oh, sorry! I just overheard Ashido saying that she saw you down there.” He laughed. “She thought you were flirting with him or something and that you were going to end up dating.”

“Ah, well,” you mumbled, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not but he, um, actually might have been flirting with me.”

Kirishima’s smile dropped, his arms subconsciously squeezing you tighter to him. “What?”

“I only noticed it today—it totally could be nothing—but I think he’s caught feelings? I mean, why else would he ask me to have lunch with him like this? Not to mention how he was smiling at me, and looking at me, and touching my hand—” You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from saying anything else. Maybe this was more serious than you realized.

Your boyfriend was silent, staring at the floor below you with a troubled expression. His ruby eyes traced over the rectangular patterns on his floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“You know that nothing’s going to happen,” you attempted to reassure him, lifting his chin with one of your fingers so he could look into your eyes. “Those feelings aren’t reciprocated and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already picked you, Eijirou. There’s no one out there like you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, sealing your statements, not only to him but to yourself. “We’ll sort this out. If I have to tell Kobayashi I’m taken, then so be it. Maybe keeping our relationship a secret isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

When you pulled back, you noticed that there was still a pout on Eijirou’s face.

“Aw, what is it?” you asked, tucking one of his fallen sticky spikes back under his bandana.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, pulling you even closer to him.

“Talk to me, baby.” You ran a hand down his back.

“I don’t like the thought of him being around you,” he confessed into your shoulder. “I . . . don’t want him smiling at you like that, or touching you, or letting people think that you belong with him. You’re . . . mine.” He paused before laughing dryly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. That sounded . . . totally selfish of me and probably not very manly at all—”

“No,” you said simply. “It’s actually kinda hot.”

He pulled back to look at you, perhaps to see if you were joking. Your expression was intrigued, maybe a little flustered. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “I . . . like when you call me yours. It’s cute. And besides, it’s okay that you feel that way. Feelings don’t have to make sense. I'm frustrated about this too.” Pecking his lips a final few times, you regretfully stood from his chair. “I wish there was something more I could do right now, but I should get going. I promised Tsu and Uraraka I’d meet up with them. We can talk about this later.”

“See you, (Y/N),” Kirishima said.

You smiled and waved, turning to the door and checking to see if anyone was in the hall before slipping back out. Kirishima watched you go, wondering what he should do.

Kirishima hadn’t even met the guy and he already hated him. Sure, Kobayashi wasn’t aware you were taken, and he had every right to show interest in you, but that was supposed to be Eijirou. It was Kirishima’s job to flirt with you and be there for you and sweep you off your feet. Your classmates should be shipping you with him, not this random guy from another year.

The redhead sighed. He shouldn’t let himself get so caught up in this. He knew you were capable of sorting this out on your own, and if you really needed him, Kirishima would help you. He couldn’t start getting whiny like some kind of child.

Besides, your friends could think whatever they wanted. It couldn’t affect your relationship. They were just high school kids. They didn’t even know what they were talking about.

Despite the fact he was trying to get back into focusing on his work, Kirishima’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Maybe once exams were over you could finally announce that the two of you were together. Then you wouldn’t have to sneak around so much anymore. He could hug you whenever he wanted, and you could sit on his lap during movie night. He’d be able to kiss you in front of his friends, no problem. Maybe, just to see the look on his face, he’d kiss you in front of—

No, no. Japanese Literature. That was what he was supposed to be thinking about right now. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he’d be able to see you again.

…

Finally it was Saturday afternoon, and you knew you had an entire day to take things a little easier tomorrow. Maybe you’d even try to take the evening off and spend some time with your boyfriend. But of course, you had to meet with Kobayashi about your hero costume first. Hopefully it would be quick, and perhaps even the last time.

You walked down to the tech floor, heading straight for the workshop. You needed your suit for the practical exam next week, so you hoped he was ready for you.

Peeking into the room, you spotted him putting something into a very familiar case.

“Oh, are you finished?” you asked, walking in.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “You’re all set, (L/N).”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Here,” he popped the little box open, showing off the finalized improvements he’d done and the changes he’d made that you’d spoken about together. He walked you through everything and you listened politely, asking the occasional question. Even with the newfound bitter taste in your mouth at being around him, you had to admit he'd done a spectacular job.

“That should be everything,” you said, ready to go. “Thanks for working with me.”

“No problem.”

Satisfied, you began to walk away.

“Wait, (L/N).”

Apprehensive, you stopped, turning back to him. “Yeah?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, bashful, “if you’d like to grab lunch with me sometime.”

You frowned, apologetic. “I can’t, Kobayashi senpai.”

“Why not?” He looked hurt.

You winced. “I’m already involved with someone else.”

“You’re just ‘involved’?” he asked dubiously, the expression on his face changing. “Please give me a chance. I can see that you feel something for me too. Whoever you’re with, I could be better.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, any momentary sympathy you might have felt evaporating. “Goodbye, Kobayashi.”

He let you go, watching as you walked stiffly out of the classroom. As soon as you rounded the doorway, you felt something grab you. Gasping, you startled, but you were quick to register a familiar head of red hair. You saw Kirishima put a finger to his lips, pulling you further down the hall and towards the empty stairwell for some privacy.

He pushed you up against a blue-gray wall, grinning at you with hooded eyes.

“Eiji, what—?”

“I heard the whole thing,” he murmured, leaning in and capturing your lips for a quick kiss. “I thought that guy might make a move on you so I followed you down here. You held your own.” He kissed you again; this one longer, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. “You’re really mine, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, a stubborn trace of hesitancy still present and quavering in his voice.

“Of course I am, Eiji,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his. “I’m yours.”

He surged against you again, kissing you hungrily and pinning you even harder against the solid surface behind you.

You gasped against his force, eyebrows drawing together as you struggled to keep up. “Ei—” you tried. “Not here, let’s go someplace else.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, uninterested in stopping.

“Me. I don’t want to get caught by a teacher or a random fifteen-year-old. We could get in trouble.”

Kirishima sighed, finally drawing back for a moment to meet your eyes. “Okay, fine. But we’re going straight to my room, right?”

You snorted. “Where else do you think I want to be?”

He smirked, taking your hand again. “Good answer.”

Kirishima briskly walked you back to the dorms, his hand migrating ever lower down your back. It wasn’t long before he was sitting you on his lap in his bed, mouth once again connecting with yours right where it belonged.

You weren’t sure he’d ever kissed you like this before, in all the time you’d been together. His passion blazed before you, unrelenting as your teeth and tongues crashed together. He nipped at your lips until they flushed and swelled, and you knew they’d be noticeably bruised by morning but neither of you stopped. He kept going, trailing more kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your jaw, and all the way down your neck only to return right back to your parted lips whispering his name.

Kirishima’s room had never felt so hot and stuffy, even as he pulled off his uniform jacket and helped you out of yours. His cheeks burned red as his eyes, so caught up in what he was doing, the only thoughts his mind was still capable of having were simply You.

It went by in a haze. He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d lowered you onto his pillow, or how long he’d been hovering over you and caging you in with his arms as he cherished you.

But he knew one thing. His love for you wasn’t something he could hide anymore. No, he’d never let anyone think they stood a chance with you again while he was around.

One day soon, he would kiss you good morning at breakfast. One day, you’d hold hands in the halls on the way to class. One day, he’d pull you in close after school, slinging an arm around your hips just so he always knew you were there at his side.

But he was happy to be here with you now. He was happy to be your secret. He was happy, even as his kisses began to soften and slow, content with the way your body melded against his as he laid himself at your side and hugged you closer. All that mattered was that you were here with him now, and he was yours.

And you were his.

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @bumbyslair @f0leysgurl @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @ure-a-sunflower @xoxopam4​

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima bnha #eijirou kirishima bnha #kirishima imagine #eijirou kirishima imagine #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x female reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled! #sugar fics

[notchesandbullets]

A Soft Confession Draped in Ivory and Silk (Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Pro-Hero!Reader)

Warnings: cursing, sort of domestic fluff in the snippet of the future Bakugou sees with you, mentions of alcohol, Aged-Up!AU, suggestive themes, implied smut, mutual pining, there's a lot of fluff in this one.

Synopsis: It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated UA. This was supposed to be a trouble-free reunion, except your reservations got screwed up and now you have to room with someone else while you're staying for the entirety of the trip. The weird thing is, everyone seems to have some kind of excuse as to why they can't let you sleepover in their room for the night. So, you decide on Bakugou's, the only person who can't say no because he hasn't arrived yet. But your actions have consequences and now you need to deal with all the feelings that you've been frantically suppressing as they resurface.

Words: 19.2k

"What the fuck are you doing in my room?" Bakugou seethed hotly, vastly annoyed with the sight that greeted him.

He had kicked open the door to his allocated hotel room, exhausted from the long drive and wanted nothing more than to flop on the comfy bed and just fall asleep but that couldn't happen if you were here.

Of course it had to be you. Of all the shitty extras, it had to be you.

Fuck.

Rolling your eyes at his angry exasperation, you continued stirring the pot on the stove without paying him any attention, which you knew irritated him greatly. Free hand planted idly on your hips, your brow scrunched up as you caught a whiff of burning potatoes and quickly turned off the fire.

Alright, so you weren't the best at cooking, but that wasn't going to stop you. A girl's gotta eat.

In hindsight, you could've just picked up some food on the way or been smart and packed a lunch before you left but in your defense, you were running late. You blamed being completely unprepared on Mina, who failed to inform you in time so you would have enough time to appropriately pack and not panic about seeing all your old classmates from your UA days.

By the time she told you of this little trip, you had exactly seven hours to get everything in order and head up north to the high-end hotel Iida and Yaoyorozu, the old class representative and executive officer, reserved for the group of 22.

They had decided to hold a reunion of some sorts since it had been a number of years since you guys all graduated. Really, you suspected it just to be an excuse for all of you to get drunk but you weren't complaining.

Hero work was taxing.

Even Aizawa, Present Mic, All Might and Midnight had come along for the weekend getaway. Though they were stuck in traffic and wouldn't make it until the next morning.

"The reservations got mixed up when Midoriya called in." You said over your shoulder to the grumpy man pouting in the corner, scooping out the soup in the pot into bowls and you ignored how Bakugou growled when the name of his rival passed through your lips. "It was either share a room with you or Mineta, so..."

Bakugou glowered at you from the other side of the room but he didn't argue. That little pervert might've grown up a bit since he actually transformed into a decent hero who was a feminist and advocated for women all the time instead of trying to touch them constantly without consent, but that didn't mean he wanted you to sleep in the same bed as the fucking grape head.

Weirdly enough, everyone you asked seemed to have an excuse as to why they couldn't let you sleep over with them for a night until the mistake was sorted out. The guys you could understand but the girls?

Something was kind of off there.

So then it was just down to Mineta, who was an absolute no in your book, and Bakugou, who was the only one who hadn't arrived yet.

Knowing that you'd be completely screwed over if he said no too, you made a choice, figuring he could kick you out if it really was too much of a bother.

At least the accommodations were nice.

The room was a luxurious suite, more than big enough to hold you both without getting in each other's way.

Rich, velvet curtains hung from the valances and a small crystal chandelier hung above the mahogany table. The kitchen was fully equipped with the latest line of appliances in Japan and stocked with utensils and stainless steel cookware. The room even came with French doors that separated the bedroom from the cozy living area and kitchen parts of the suite, giving it a secluded but romantic feel.

You ignored the latter portion of that vibe.

The two of you were friends at best and you were still wondering if you could even call him a close friend when most of your interactions happened on the job in joint operations that required both of your quirks.

It was hard to ever find to get out and see your friends, let alone even consider dating. You had given up that dream after some sleazebag tried to get into your pants after one date. When your team figured out he was after your fame, that put the nail in the coffin and you hadn't tried to see anyone else since then.

For a time there, you had thought you had some potential for a relationship with Shindou since the two of you held mutual attraction for each other but that was over when he started seeing one of his old classmates.

You were happy for the both of them but it didn't dull the ache in your heart for someone who understood the life that you lived.

And not in a platonic way.

Shindou being in a relationship honestly didn't come as a surprise to you, he had feelings for her since the provisional licensing exam and besides, your heart was set on someone else.

Someone you could never hope that they would return your feelings.

Breezing out of the kitchen with two portions in hand, you passed one to the grumpy ash-blond's way.

Bakugou scoffed haughtily as he left his luggage by the door and threw himself down into the sofa positioned behind the TV, completely ignoring your peace offering. "What the fuck makes you think I want to eat your shitty cooking?"

"Suit yourself."

You shrugged your shoulders and set it down on the coffee table, undeterred by his crude yet muffled language. Something things never changed, you could still read him like a book. His temper was all a front.

Had been since high school. Now you both were pros, constantly out on the streets and saving the day. It was rewarding work but it was also exhausting.

You couldn't put into words how much you were looking forward to this getaway trip, where you didn't have to worry about appearances or the media catching you off guard.

You don't know exactly how, but somehow Todoroki, Yaoyorozu and Iida managed to pay them off or something to get them to leave you alone for the blessed three days this reunion was going to span.

And you have to say, you had never been more grateful to have rich people as friends.

Leaving to go change so that you were ready for the dinner tonight with all of your old classmates while simultaneously chowing down on your delicious (somewhat burnt) food, the corner of your mouth quirked up in a smile as you heard the bowl scrap against the table as the grumpy hero begrudgingly pulled it toward him.

Unable to resist, you tossed a lighthearted jab over your shoulder without looking at him. "Aw, you do have a heart~"

"Fuck off, dumbass." Bakugou spat from around a mouthful of potato, yet making no move to set down the food you had spent so much time making before he arrived.

Even though it was a little overcooked, it tasted better than any of the shit he had been forcing himself to eat recently.

Being a pro was no fucking joke, not that he ever treated it like one before, but it sure as shit seemed a lot easier when they were students and had fucking adults to rely on.

It was still fucking weird to him to think of his old homeroom teacher as a colleague.

Bakugou lazed around for a couple hours after he finished eating your food. He wasn't ever going to admit it, but your home cooking hit the spot. His own cooking was still better but yours wasn't shit. At least, not compared to that fucking Dunce Face's.

He still remembered when you and Sato would make dinner back when they all lived in Heights Alliance. Of course, Emergency Exit had a fire extinguisher handy anytime you were in the kitchen because you had a habit of lighting things on fire.

A lot.

Flipping through the channels on the TV boredly, Bakugou blankly stared at the screen with moving pictures that he couldn't care less about as his mind wandered back to you.

When Kirishima first told him about the trip, he flat out declined coming with.

There was no fucking way he was going. Why the hell would he want to see all their annoying faces and shit?

At least, that was all that was running through his mind until the idiot slyly mentioned how you were going to be coming along.

Bakugou honestly didn't think you would be one for all this shit. According to his agent, you had been so swamped with work in your district that you hadn't been taking proper care of yourself. Not that he cared or anything.

But it was going to be a fucking inconvenience for him if you suddenly fainted on the job and was rushed to the hospital, leaving him to pick up all your damn slack.

Because your agencies were sort of near each other, he thought he couldn't take the time off if you were going, but his PR team had insisted, practically shoving him out the door so he could pack seven days early.

He had a sinking suspicion that his absence would allow them to curb the damage done after that stunt he pulled last month at the middle school they made him talk at.

It wasn't his fault!! Those damn kids had too many fucking questions!!

Alright, so that wasn't really it. He had overheard one of the teachers spewing shit about heroes and how useless they were so of course he was fucking angry. To have the fucking nerve to not even lower their voice in front of him was a trip but the last straw was when they carelessly brought up your name in the conversation, haughtily claiming that you didn't know how to do your job properly.

And he fucking lost it.

The entire security team had to pry him off of the wailing teacher when they arrived and once the facts were cleared up, no one could say that they really blamed him for reacting the way that he did but still, the press was going to have a field day when this got out.

Bakugou had clicked his tongue angrily and stormed the other way while the police got the situation sorted out.

He would own up to what he had done, he wasn't fucking afraid. He would kill them any day of the week.

But he halted in his tracks down the dreary and empty hallway when he saw a little boy sitting alone outside the classroom. He recognized him. He was inside during the meet-and-greet but the teacher that he had just got into a verbal battle with had sent him outside for some reason.

The child whimpered and curled into a tighter ball when he came closer and Bakugou cursed himself for not having the same calming effects on kids like Deku had.

"Oi, brat. What the hell are you doing sitting out here?" He asked abrasively, crouching down a little ways away to give him some space.

The kid sniffled loudly and raised his head, his eyes swollen and bloodshot from how hard he had been crying and Bakugou's heart twisted painfully.

"M-Mister?" He stammered out in a small voice. "Wha...?"

"You're crying."

Since no one else was around, Bakugou's guard dropped a fraction and his eyes softened slightly.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?"

After six minutes of the kid stuttering to find his voice in front of his idol, he managed to tell him a little bit.

And if Bakugou was mad before, he sure as hell was livid now.

Because this kid was being punished by his teacher and his peers for something he had no control over. His quirk.

His teacher hated him and would often send him outside because it would go off at random times and distract his classmates. And while everyone pointed fingers at him and laughed, he was left all alone to deal with a power that was too big for him to control.

Labeled a villain, he was cast out and even though the pro-hero could clearly see how kind his heart was just in the few minutes he'd interacted with him, no one else seemed to care enough to give him the time of day.

Bakugou offered out his hand and demanded that he get up. Timidly, the little kid did so, exclaiming out in surprise when he dragged him towards the direction of the classroom.

The hero could sense his rising fear and anxiety so he stopped just outside of the door where the police had been filing out of a minute ago and turned to him, squatting down to his level.

"Listen, brat." Bakugou barked out, but not unkindly. "Those extras don't mean a damn thing. You're fucking strong and you're going to be a great hero when you grow up."

He rapidly blinked his eyes and they sparkled. "Really?!"

Bakugou snorted. "Yup. Now, come on. It's storytime."

When he entered, he was disgusted to see how the teacher and the kids recoiled back from the boy hiding behind his legs. And while he couldn't necessarily fault the kids as much as their teacher because they were being taught that this little guy was a monster, to see a grown-adult grooming them to judge people like this was fucking wrong.

He would know.

Sitting down, he patted his thigh once to invite the little boy to take a seat on his lap. When the boy finally scrambled on and got comfortable, even though he was still clearly nervous about being in front of his class like this, Bakugou started his tale.

The few security officers who were standing by the teacher for safety should he launch at them again and his own agent were wary of his intentions, but all that diminished when he opened his mouth.

The calm hero told the wide-eyed kids how he was a bully to someone who had the true heart of what it took to be a hero and how he was able to grow by recognizing his mistakes and taking action. He told them that it was hard to change but that it was a good thing even though it felt weird and felt like the world was against him at times.

He told them that it didn't matter whether they had a strong quirk, a weak quirk or no quirk at all, at the end of the day, they were all the same: imperfect humans just trying to live and find happiness. And that everyone was deserving of respect.

Even the little boy they had casted out from their social circle.

Bakugou could see some things start to click in their minds and while he knew that most of this would fly over their heads for now since they weren't at an age where they had to think about all these things on the daily, he hoped that it would stick with them and come back to them when they needed it most.

The teacher's jaw had gone slack in shock and Bakugou glared at them, sending them one last pointed remark about how it was important to ensure the future generation had the tools they needed to thrive in this world and they gulped, averting their eyes as they were thoroughly intimidated by the way his burning eyes scorched into them.

Throwing his head back with a heavy sigh, Bakugou closed his eyes.

He needed this weekend to get the fuck away with everything that was wrong in this world and accept that he could only change the things he could control one at a time.

But patience was never his strong suit.

Growling, he pushed himself off of the too-comfortable couch and stormed his way to the front door to grab his luggage he had discarded to the side earlier before heading to the bedroom. He paused at the closed door for a second, briefly debating if he should knock or not but shook his head.

Fuck it. It's my fucking room.

He kicked open the door despite it being made of glass and he froze in place as his eyes landed on your form standing in front of the full-length mirror with your bare back to him.

Your eyes shining in the reflection of the polished mirror snapped to where his figure was still frozen in the doorway and you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to cover yourself up or anything.

It honestly wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, your hero costume had your back exposed all the time but you were damn annoyed that he had burst in when he did because he startled you and dropped the thing you had been playing with for a good half an hour now.

You were halfway to getting that tricky zipper to cooperate with you when he interrupted you. His timing literally could not be worse.

Sighing, you motioned him in, a bit confused why he cleared his throat and looked away from you as he set down his suitcase and strutted over without a fight.

"Make yourself useful and help me." You demanded with a slight pout. It was his fault the stupid thing was now all the way down again. Who made these things?!

You didn't have enough hands for this task.

In order to zip up the complicated dress, you needed to simultaneously hold together all the lace that crisscrossed near the neck while your other hand tried to wiggle up the zipper.

All while defying gravity and attempting not to twist your arms off.

Bakugou came to stand behind you and he exhaled frustratingly at the mess you made. The whole thing was tangled in the back, there were too many pieces for him to know what was supposed to go where.

"What the fuck did you even do, dumbass?" He muttered, more to himself than to you as he crossed over and pulled through the complicated design to get it to lay flat, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

You giggled, gathering your hair in one hand and sweeping it to one side so that it was off the nape of your neck and wouldn't get in the way.

You swallowed when his fingers brushed over your skin as he undid the damage you dealt to this fancy article of clothing and tried to ignore how your heart skipped a beat.

Honestly, you hated parties and fancy gatherings like the one tonight was going to be, but Mina and Ochako had begged you to wear something nice for at least one of the days, hence why you were now in this predicament.

Because you had absolutely no idea how to put on a dress this fancy.

Yaoyorozu had bought it for you last year when all of the girls from the former Class A and B went on a shopping spree, claiming it brought out your eyes and was such a perfect fit for you that you had to have it, regardless of how many zeros there were on the tag at the time of purchase.

You thought your eyes were going to fall out of your head the second she swiped her platinum credit card without so much as batting an eye.

You haven't gotten a chance to wear it yet. It really was a special occasions gown since it was floor-length and wouldn't be appropriate for any modern day clubs or work parties. So when the girls told you the dress code for this weekend, you were secretly a little excited, the inner child in you skipping around in circles at the notion of getting to play dress up.

According to Mina and Tsuyu, the ballroom that dinner was going to be served in tonight was supposed to be extravagant and you couldn't wait to see what it looked like.

The Solaria Hotel was one of Japan's finest and most exclusive establishments and had a five star rating from over hundreds of thousands of pro-heroes.

And you could certainly see why.

Just the size of the bedroom itself was already twice as big than your apartment that you rented out.

The king-sized bed was ridiculously huge and you were pretty sure the comforter was lined with genuine velvet. Silk sheets for the mattress and the pillow had your heart jumping for joy at how soft and silky it felt against your skin.

Aside from the bed, which also had a sheer white canopy draping down, the ceiling was ten feet high and rose petals were scattered around the huge room.

If you didn't know any better, you would think that this was a love hotel instead of one that they geared towards a resting spot for heroes. But you supposed you could understand why they had set it up the way they did.

Even heroes needed that kind of relief.

But luckily, the hotel business was slow this time of month and you didn't see many other guests when you came in, so the lack of bustle was a nice change of pace from your everyday hectic schedule.

Twisting around to see what was taking Bakugou so long to figure out the lace back, you yelped when he harshly pushed you back so that you were facing forwards.

"Hey!!" You protested indignantly and you swayed on your feet. It was a good thing you weren't wearing your heels yet.

He scoffed, deft fingers continuing to work at the knots as he repeated his earlier words. "What the fuck did you even do?"

"I didn't do anything!!"

This time, he snorted in disbelief. "Yeah right. This shit looks worse than Deku's hair."

"What the heck is that supposed to mean?!" You shrieked.

After arguing back and forth for a few minutes, you began to grow anxious as the time started to tick by. You had to be down there for dinner in less than an hour and you even though you had already done your hair and makeup, mostly, you still weren't really prepared for this.

Crowds weren't your thing, which made being a pro hard sometimes, but the work you did was worth that particular downside.

Your eyes widened and you hopped in place when Bakugou finally zipped you up. Spinning around and being careful not to trip, you beamed at him as you threw your arms around his neck.

"Thank you!!!" You squealed gratefully.

He clicked his tongue and huffed. "Yeah, yeah. Get off me now, dumbass."

You clambered off of him albeit ungracefully since this gown was pretty heavy thanks to the many layers of fabric and you flailed your arms like a baby bird as you lost your balance.

Bakugou's hand shot out to catch you before you fell but before you could thank him, he was already turning away and going to his side of the room.

But tried as he might, he couldn't stop staring at you even as you turned away.

As soon as he collected his luggage once more and dragged it over to his side of the bed that wasn't claimed by you, his thoughts drifted back to you once again as you twirled in the mirror, giggling to yourself as you remained completely oblivious to the vermilion gaze burning into your back.

He swore in his head. It was much harder to stop them from going rampant with that intoxicating scent of banana and citrus that came from a specific kind of lotion he knew you always put on ever since he got it for you.

It was a gift for the last Christmas your class shared in your third year in high school. And the only reason he bought you that was because fucking Raccoon-Eyes thought it would be a good idea to put a limit on the gift giving since Iida had gone all out last year and nearly flooded Heights Alliance with an obscene amount of presents.

Shinsou might've had a hand in helping deliver them.

But of fucking course you would be wearing it right now. He could smell it so clearly, it was so fragrant it was making his head go foggy.

Bakugou tried to concentrate on something, anything really that would get his mind off of you but to no avail.

Everywhere he looked, there was evidence of you and your light.

Your clothes folded neatly in the walnut dresser on the top drawer, your books on the nightstand, even all those bottles on the vanity in the joined bathroom that was connected to the bedroom that he didn't really think was necessary unless you were trying to scrape off your skin.

In the small walk-in closet, if it could even be classified as such, was filled only with your empty luggage and the hanger in which probably hung up the dress to prevent it from wrinkling before you put it on.

And now that he wasn't fucking fighting a battle with your stubborn zipper, Bakugou really got a chance to take you in.

The layers of pale green chiffon flowed around your ankles when you moved. Paired with billowy sleeves made from that same sheer material, it made you look ethereal. The bodice flattered your figure and the sweetheart neckline skimmed just below your collar bones, making you appear soft and pure, like a fairy who could bend nature to her will with just a kiss.

The lace back was beautifully intricate and the golden zipper was barely noticeable when you let go of your hair.

It cascaded down, the soft curls brushing against your shoulders and a glass butterfly clip was nestled in your hair to keep most of it away from your face, save for a few curled strands that framed your face.

You were breathtaking.

You raised an eyebrow curiously when Bakugou suddenly started to cough violently and worried that he had somehow managed to choke on his own spit, you gathered up your skirts and rushed over to him.

You weren't insulted when he brushed you off, shouting at you that he was fucking fine, but you didn't push the issue.

He grabbed his things from his suitcase and stomped off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and you were left wondering what all of that was about.

Shrugging to yourself, you figured that he would either deal with it himself or go to Kirishima if and when he needed help.

Now, you were faced with a completely different dilemma.

There was about fifteen minutes before the scheduled time to report downstairs and you still needed to put on your shoes. But it was nearly impossible to see over the poofy skirts of this dress.

Groaning in frustration, you threw your hands down exasperatedly from trying to get it on for the fourth time. This was getting old.

Then, your whole face lit up when you got an idea.

Practically throwing yourself face-down on the bed, you squirmed and wiggled around on the king-sized bed until your back was flat against the cushiony mattress and you huffed, blowing the hair out of your face as you stuck your legs up in the air, grabbing for the shoes to put on as you bent your knees.

It was an awkward position as your skirt obeyed gravity but it worked.

Two minutes later you had both of the heels on the right way and did up the laces properly.

Inwardly, you were wondering why you were even bothering to teeter on these stilts for the entirety of the party but they completely the look. Besides, you were almost sure that you guys were going to take pictures later, even if Bakugou would only join you guys for one.

You hummed to yourself, standing up and smoothing out your skirt. You were in the middle of fixing your hair when the lock to the bathroom clicked and out stepped Bakugou.

Your eyebrows shot up to your forehead. Damn that man can clean up nice when he wasn't busy murdering villains.

A pressed suit adorned his broad frame and you had to swallow to stop yourself from drooling at how good he looked.

The suit was a classic black, with a crisp white shirt on the inside and his pants were clearly ironed before coming here. A red handkerchief peeked out from where it was tucked into his breast pocket and you swooned.

He had gotten everything right, right down to the shiny black dress shoes. You didn't know how it was possible to not have any wrinkles or a hair out of place as he slid up his embroidered tie with an irritated scowl, making the lapels lay flat with an aggressive swipe at the offending material.

You barely noticed his rising aggravation as they kept popping back up and he adjusted the cufflinks before jerking at the collar again.

"Here," You giggled. "Let me help."

Bakugou grumbled but lowered his hands and let you do as you pleased as you tucked it in further to get it to straighten out without popping back out.

"Thanks." He said gruffly and you flashed him a bright smile.

"Anytime!!"

Bakugou groaned quietly as you flounced out of the room. "You're too fucking cheerful."

You threw a charismatic smile his way as you skipped to the front door, making sure to grab your clutch on the way out. You didn't necessarily need your wallet tonight as you weren't planning on getting drunk but you weren't exactly comfortable leaving it in the hotel room.

Years of training had taught you that there were flaws in even the most advanced security systems.

"I didn't think you were going to dress up tonight." You commented casually as you waited for Bakugou to finish grabbing his wallet and phone before locking the door behind you two.

You were leaning against the glass barrier that surrounded the halls.

The Solaria Hotel was more than 100 floors, reminding you of the tower at I-Island that time you guys had to beat those villains to save the professor and restore order to the island. Bakugou's room was on the 80th floor, so you could see everything.

The layout of the circular building had basically ensured that it was hollowed out, rooms circled each floor and had an elevator on the north and south points of the building. In the empty space that you could see below as far as the eye could see, they had crystals suspended in the air that changed color periodically.

He scowled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he fell in step beside you and you tore away from your admiration of the ingenuity of the architecture.

"Shitty Hair made me fucking wear this shit." Bakugou said through clenched teeth as he recalled Kirishima begging him to wear it so they could match tonight. He wasn't going to cave but then fucking Raccoon-Eyes threatened not to feed him.

That wouldn't bother him except for the fact that he wouldn't be able to see you and all the shitty extras would be free to hit on you.

Not on his fucking watch.

Of course, this was decided before he knew you were going to be crashing in his room. He could cook for himself just fine, he didn't need to eat that overpriced shit that Ponytail Girl and Emergency Exit fucking paid for but now he was going anyways because there was no way in hell you were attending alone.

Covering your smile behind your hand, you teased that no matter what he said, he would do anything for Kirishima if he asked and Bakugou exploded at you, right there, in the middle of the hallway.

You shrieked as he launched himself at you and you ran for your life, panting hard as you reached the vacant elevators in the nick of time, frantically pushing the button to get it to close before Bakugou caught up.

Hope swelled in your chest when the doors started to close but it plummeted when a hand stopped it just before it shut completely.

Bakugou licked his lips as he pushed them back open and you backed into the corner to get as far away from him as possible as he advanced.

You gasped when his hands slammed on either side of your head, the soft ding of the elevator doors closing lost on both of you as his eyes bore into yours.

"Time to fucking pay, dumbass." He smirked, leaning in close.

You glanced over his shoulder, quickly concluding that you wouldn't reach the first floor for a good minute and decided you needed to come up with a distraction to ensure you would live to eat at least a morsel of the heavenly food that awaited you.

Bakugou's eyes flew open as you boldly took a step forward, pressing yourself against him and he swallowed hard when your finger teasingly trailed down from his shoulder to his chest. He swore that even though he was wearing two layers, he could feel your touch as though there were no clothes between you two.

The glass of the elevator was transparent and if anyone were looking closely enough, they would be able to see how he was pinning you to the wall with no space between the two of you.

"Aw~" You cooed, batting your lashes at him prettily. "That's such a shame... I was really looking forward to tonight."

He fucking knew you were toying with him, making it sound like a implication that you wanted him to take you back to his room but he fucking knew that you loved food more than any other shit so you had to be messing with him.

But it was pretty hard to believe when you looked up at him so innocently.

Bakugou's mouth pulled back in a heated snarl and it took everything in him not to close the distance and crash his lips onto yours, claiming you for himself tonight, tomorrow, and every other night that was to come.

Your expression cleared as the elevator came to a halt and Bakugou, who had been bracing himself over you, was thrown off balance.

"We're here!!" You announced excitedly, skipping past him for the second time that night.

He slapped a hand to his forehead and rushed out of the elevator into the lobby to catch up with you.

Fuck, what was wrong with him tonight?

The layout of the first five floors were a bit different than the residence area since those were designated for recreational activities and an extensive training gym.

The lobby was beautiful, even though you had skimmed by it earlier just to figure out where you were going to stay since the reservations had been messed up but now you got a good look at it.

A huge crystal chandelier sparkled from the ceiling and your heels clicked as you walked across the polished marble tile.

Everything was gold and white, clean and shining so bright that you could see your reflection in all the surfaces that you looked in. The golden edging along the wainscot and the Victorian details in the carvings along the panels of the ceiling were incredibly well done.

It branched off into several sections, the ambiguity of the lobby enabling them to have several private rooms covered with a heavy velvet curtain to maintain complete privacy.

The only thing that distinguished this floor from looking like a private establishment altogether was the very noticeable front desk in which the staff were stationed.

You were told that there was minimal staff to ensure the utmost respect and privacy but you were glad to see human faces as opposed to all the high-tech the hotel had ingrained into it to make the stay as pleasant as possible.

You didn't know why but it was nice to have a human touch in a world advancing so fast that artificial intelligence and robots were becoming more and more prevalent.

At least you could soak in that hot tub later to forget about anything and everything, relaxing in a blissful state until they kicked you out.

You could sort of recall Mina telling you about it over the phone but you were busy packing so you couldn't pay too much attention to her. But you were pretty sure she said something about a state-of-the-art pool and made another mental note to check it out later once you got out of this ridiculous getup.

Your confidence and schoolgirl excitement that came from dressing up dwindled bit by bit until you were left standing outside of the ballroom in a nervous wreck.

Judging by the music you could hear inside and all the lively chatter, most if not all were already there, and now you were having second thoughts as you anxiously played with your sleeves.

It wasn't that you didn't think you looked good, you really loved how you looked, it was just... you were feeling a bit self-conscious now that you were about to go in.

It was the same feeling that you had right before you had to try out for the hero agency of your dreams right after graduation. You were a bundle of nerves that day but at least then you could prove yourself by using your quirk to fight and take out bad guys.

You highly doubted that Yaoyorozu or Mina would be amused if you took on that same attitude and ripped the dress to shreds.

Regardless of the fact that it was expensive, you really wanted to follow through with this despite the anxiety you were feeling right now.

Bakugou hung back once he caught up to you, chest heaving slightly. You were faster than he remembered. But as he noticed that you were fighting with something internally, he arched an eyebrow and argued with himself about whether or not it was a good idea to ask what shit was stopping you from going in.

By the time he told himself to fuck off and just do it, you had straightened your shoulders and opened the doors yourself.

A wide grin split across his face and he shook his head, in a mixture of begrudging admiration and a hell of a lot of disbelief.

You were fucking strong. No doubt about that.

He knew how much shit you had been through in high school. Your social anxiety was no fucking joke, you had real reactions to situations that stressed you out, but you were dealing with it time and time again just to push through and do what you loved.

That wasn't to say that you didn't fail at times but he was so fucking proud of you for asking the shitheads for help when you needed it.

Because you deserved it.

None of them judged you for it. Hell, Shoji had anxiety just like you, Ponytail Girl still had issues with her self-esteem frequently when her ability as a hero was being called into question by the press who often brought up her revealing hero costume as though that was the only thing that defined her, Icyhot was still dealing with the aftermath of his own trauma when something triggered him and Deku wasn't perfect either.

Your class had been through everything together. You guys were each other's family and were there for each other. Always.

You guys trusted each other with your lives and it was safe to say that you would go to bat for any of the others should they ever be in danger.

Bakugou was broken out of his thoughts as an all-too-cheerful voice shattered his trance.

"Bakugou, lookin' sharp!!" Kirishima called out, cupping his hands over his mouth so that his voice carried further.

Unfortunately, it caused a lot of other people to look his way and Bakugou's face twisted into a scowl.

"Fuck off, Shitty Hair."

Kirishma laughed, the bright sound relaying just how much his language never bothered him and he skipped over to loop his arm through the grumpy ash-blond's.

"Aw, what's got you so angry?" Kirishima teased with a grin, coming around on his other side to sling his arm around his shoulders when Bakugou threw him off.

Bakugou scowled, refusing to reply and his best friend's grin grew.

"So..." He drew out smugly. "I see you arrived with Y/N. Does that mean you finally manned up and told her how you feel?"

You whipped your head around in shock, breaking off your conversation with Jirou when you heard the explosion, and fell into a fit of giggles as the smoke from Bakugou's quirk cleared. Iida and Midoriya were doing damage control to a pent-up Bakugou and Todoroki was standing off to the side for moral support.

As for Kirishima and Kaminari, who had happened to be on his way to greet the pomeranian when the explosion occurred, were slapping their thighs and howling obnoxiously, tears leaking out of their eyes from laughing so hard.

Yaoyorozu shook her head. It was too early in the night to deal with all of this.

She sighed, gracefully putting a hand over her heart. "It seems like Bakugou-san's temper has not changed."

You snickered along with Jirou, who was covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to stop the fit of uncontrollable laughter that had taken over her body when she saw Kaminari's hair sticking straight up due to the fire.

"Oh no, that definitely hasn't changed." You giggled, biting your lip to curb your smile when Bakugou glared at you as if he had heard you even though you were too far away to be within his earshot.

His vermilion eyes narrowed accusingly and you held up your hands in surrender, an innocent expression painted on your features.

Your giggle came out muffled when your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip and you ducked to hide behind Yaoyorozu when Bakugou started stomping over in your direction.

"Hide me!!" You yelped and Jirou rolled her eyes.

"He's already seen you." She pointed out, forgetting her earlier uncomfortability when you first sought her out upon your arrival.

The two of you tended to stick together for these kinds of things, since you both were equally out of your element when it came to formal wear and all things classified as girly.

And the dress code for tonight was a strict one. Girls had to wear dresses and guys a suit. The only exception was Shoji and that was only because no company could ever tailor a suit right to accommodate his dupi-arms.

You hunched down further, trying to make yourself smaller but it didn't do any good as a firm grip encircled your wrist and yanked you out from your terrible hiding place.

"I can still fucking see you." Bakugou seethed, sparks popping in the palms of his hands and you smiled nervously.

"Uh... Ah!! Wait—" Your objections were cut short when he dragged you away from the others. "Where are we going?!"

Yaoyorozu and Jirou exchanged a sympathetic look with each other.

"Do you think they'll be alright?" Yaoyorozu asked softly, her eyes worried.

Todoroki appeared beside her and sighed, closing his eyes momentarily. "They will be fine but perhaps we should give them a minute so Bakugou can collect himself."

"Iida-kun, is dinner ready?" Midoriya asked to take the attention off the two of you as the prospect of food was brought up and the former class rep vigorously nodded.

"Affirmative!!" He shouted, thrusting his hand high in the air to gather everyone as his old classmates started to drift towards him. "Let us sit in groups of four to make it easy for the staff to clean up, Class A!!"

Kaminari elbowed Shinsou in the ribs, interrupting his conversation with Tsuyu. "Do we still have to do what he says even though he's not the boss of us anymore?"

Shinsou sighed, running his hands through his hair and Tsuyu had a suspicion that it wasn't the first time he had asked this. "Yes, Kaminari. Because if you don't, you probably won't get to eat."

Kaminari's jaw dropped all the way to the floor but he recovered in a second, racing to his seat.

Tsuyu tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully as she and Shinsou began to follow the overzealous blond to the tables that Iida was seating everyone at. "Do you really think Iida-chan would stop him?"

Shinsou chuckled, giving her one of his rare smiles as he pulled out the seat for her before sitting down himself at the table that held a fidgeting Kaminari and nervous-looking Kirishima.

Crooking a finger, he motioned her to come closer so he could whisper it without him hearing. "Nah, but it's fun to mess with him."

Tsuyu giggled, waving at Ochako and Mina from the other table since the six round tables were set up relatively close to each other in the huge ballroom, forming a circle.

They were currently towards the front where all the appetizers on tables lined with white cloth were served before the main course. Then, there was some kind of game set up on the adjacent side that looked like beer pong and the empty space at the back took up the majority of the ballroom was left alone as a dance floor for the upbeat music that would resume later on.

With a flick of her earphone jack, Jirou changed the playlist to classical and lowered the volume just as the food was coming out.

Mineta complained that the music was too slow and boring for his taste but he didn't argue anymore when Jirou silently threatened to electrocute him. Shoji coughed into his hand and grinned at the girl's spunk while Yaoyorozu just smiled.

Koda was signing to Aoyama. Even though he had gotten more comfortable talking with all of them, everyone's chatter was making it hard to hear, so as he relayed details about his latest mission, Ojiro was engaged in a discussion with Sato about whether or not food coloring was necessary in modern day society when more and more ingredients were being revealed to be unhealthy in nature.

Sero was trying to teach Hagakure how to fold a napkin into a swam while Todoroki and Tokoyami talked about the latest hero news after exchanging pleasantries.

And Midoriya, Ochako, Mina and Iida filled up table five. Which left just the one for the two who had yet to sit in their seats.

Iida shook with restraint before abruptly standing up to shout for you and Bakugou who were still talking in the far corner about something he couldn't hear but Midoriya caught his arm and eased him back down.

The food had just come out and it was hot. He had helped Iida order food for tonight so he knew it was going to be good.

Each table got five different kinds of entrées to share, hence why they could only fit four people at each table instead of five like Iida had initially planned since the piping hot food coming out from the kitchen was monstrous and would take up a ton of space.

Wagyu beef, fugu, kujira, basashi, otoro, fresh-steamed vegetables and even yubari melon for a refreshing taste was set down on gold-rimmed platters and left to be ravished by the hungry people eyeing it like some sort of animal.

Everyone was hungry, and Midoriya knew you wouldn't mind if you guys started ahead so he opened it up to his fellow heroes, and even though he knew Kacchan might say something about it later, he still clapped his hands together and dug in.

Some of them, like Kaminari, Aoyama and surprisingly Tsuyu followed his lead and tore in right away, while others like Tokoyami, Todoroki and Yaoyorozu were too busy with their own conversations to be bothered with the food at the moment.

Kaminari stopped stuffing his mouth long enough to glance at Kirishima out of the corner of his eye.

"What's the matter?" He asked and with his cheeks stuffed full it was a little hard to hear him but Kirishima got his point.

His brow drew together worriedly. "They kind of look like they're arguing."

It was true. You did look like you were engaged in a heated spat with Bakugou, but Kirishima was way off.

Ten feet away, you planted your hands firmly on your hips and glared at him as your voice rose an octave. "Excuse me?!"

Bakugou barely stopped in time from snapping his teeth at you. At this point, he was going to rip out his hair if you didn't concede and admit that he was right. "You fucking heard me."

Your mouth pressed in a hard line. "I can't believe you would say that."

A beat of tense silence passed and then you exploded.

You threw up your hands in frustration. "Aizawa's would clearly beat All Might in a battle, he can erase his quirk for crying out loud!!"

"All Might was the Number 1 Hero." Bakugou ground out angrily through gritted teeth. "And he's as strong as shit even without his quirk."

"Not everything is about strength!!" You fired back but he wasn't done.

He continued to go on a rant just to prove to you that All Might would be the one to fucking beat your old homeroom teacher if they ever versed each other in a one on one battle.

How you got here, you had no idea.

It started with him dragging you away and before he spun you around and backed you into a corner, demanding to know just what was being said about him.

After dangling tease after tease at him, the stiffness in his shoulders wasn't lost on you and you told him flat out that you three had just been commenting on his temper when he looked your way, making the timing seem like he had heard you and you found it hilarious.

Bakugou's expression crumpled as he realized he had gotten it wrong and let insecurity get the best of him, to which his eyes shot open when he realized he had said that last part out loud.

You were faster than him though, as you reassured that it was okay to be feeling that way and apologized for teasing him before he could even say a word to amend his mistake.

It had then transitioned to him quietly asking why you stopped outside of the door before you went inside and you paused before hesitantly revealing that it was because you had a fleeting thought that you didn't actually look as good as you thought you did and he frowned.

Your eyes rounded as wide as saucers as he went off on you, fucking you over for thinking that and telling you straight up that you were fucking stunning.

It was doing bad things to your heart as it flopped pathetically in your rib cage and your hands automatically went up to cover your cheeks which you were sure were bright red.

Bakugou didn't touch you but his eyes scorched into you with such conviction that you eventually lowered them yourself and thanked him softly for saying that to you.

To which he scoffed and said it was obvious and that he'd have to be fucking blind not to see you.

Cue more blood rushing to your face.

From there, the conversation went from insecurities to a short story you brought up when Aizawa had helped you boost your self-confidence and Bakugou retorted with his own story of All Might when he stopped him from annihilating Deku in Ground Beta in your first year of high school.

Things only got more competitive as you shot back that Aizawa had helped him too on countless occasions, the hothead countering by bringing up the time All Might saved you single-handedly when you had gotten captured in a fight.

Knowing your hands were tied for that particular instance, you shifted it back to Aizawa's strengths and Bakugou retorted with All Might's own.

And that's where you ended up. Having a staring contest while the rest of your old classmates watched raptly from the sidelines and wondered just what had got you both so worked up.

"Admit your defeat, dumbass." Bakugou grinned cockily, sticking his face in yours. "And then you can fucking get your shit."

Your eyes flickered up to his since even though you were wearing heels, you were still shorter than him. A hint of mischief glimmered in your eyes as a smile played upon your lips.

"Actually, I think you lost this round, Boom Boy."

Before he got a chance to open his mouth and object to that ridiculous nickname you had given him from your youth, you ducked under his arm and made a break for it towards the tables.

"Fucking— GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!!" He yelled after you, breaking into a sprint but you were too far ahead of him.

You ducked behind Iida for protection and he stood up tall, unwavering as Bakugou skidded to a halt.

"Bakugou!! That's enough!!" Iida shouted, holding his hand out for him to stop as he tried to get around him.

The whole class watched and waited to see what he would do, slurping on food obnoxiously while they all waited.

"Tch." Bakugou smirked, grounding his fist into the palm of his hand as it lit up. "Is that a fucking challenge?!"

"NO!!!" Iida thundered, clearing his throat and repositioning his glasses as he collected himself. "Now, the two of you need to sit down and eat. We are behind schedule."

"There's a schedule?" You whispered to Bakugou as you crept out from behind the safety of Iida's back. "Did you know about this?"

He snorted, putting out his explosion with a huff. "Damn right."

You tilted your head but followed him obediently to the only available table piled high with food that had luckily not gone cold.

Bakugou hid a smile as he saw you wiggle in your seat out of the corner of his eye, clicking his tongue in annoyance when you happened to look his way.

Of fucking course you would still look so damn cute when you were excited.

Since he was fucking starving, he ate with gusto, but only after he made sure you were actually going to eat.

Due to the side effects of using your quirk, it sometimes made you nauseous and you have had trouble keeping food down ever since you threw up on the first day of school.

He knew that most heavily seasoned dishes you had more of a difficulty keeping down so he wasn't surprised when he saw you go for the soup out of all the things you could've picked from.

Lively conversation filled the air, gossip and talk about the latest modifications to your hero costumes all the rage as topics blended into everyone's tables since they were all in close proximity to one another.

At least, most of them.

Since you had come late to dinner, you had a gut feeling that your classmates all ganged up on you and Bakugou, shoving the two of you here together.

The girls knew of your crush on him. It came out one night when you guys were playing truth or dare, like everyone did back in the day, and Hagakure and Mina hadn't let you forget it since then.

But what you didn't know was that the same could be said for Bakugou.

Fucking Shitty Hair did this on purpose. Bakugou raged inwardly while you remained blissfully unaware of the rampage going on beneath the surface. I fucking knew it was a bad idea to tell him about it.

He had asked his best friend for advice on what to get you for your birthday when you were in your second year and to say the very least, it wasn't hard for Kirishima to piece it together.

Fucking hell. The shit he gave him for it made him instantly regret it and he stormed out with pink cheeks, determined to find you the perfect gift on his own, thinking that this year would finally be the year that you noticed him and saw him in the same light that he saw you in.

Nope.

You had gotten sick on your birthday and by the time you healed, your birthday had come and gone and nobody said anything about it so he never gave it to you, throwing it away after another week passed and it was clear he didn't have the courage to give it to you.

You looked up at him, mouth resembling a chipmunk's as you chewed on the food you had been looking forward to all day. "Whasthematferwifyu?"

Bakugou choked. "What the fuck?!"

When you opened your mouth to speak again, he snapped at you, "Fucking finish chewing or you'll choke, dumbass!!"

"You mean like you just did?" You asked cheekily as you swallowed and he glared at you.

"Shut the fuck up."

"M'kay~" You sang.

Banter between you two was few and far in between since you two had bickered already for a good portion of the evening. The fight was called a draw for the time being as it was put on pause to fill your bellies with good food and you had to say, you were glad you came.

Dinner wrapped up after another hour and one by one, everyone started to trickle onto the dance floor.

Everyone except for Bakugou, who was at the drinks table and glaring at each bottle of alcohol that he picked through, and you and Kirishima, who had halted you when you moved to join Ochako and Tsuyu, was breaking it down to Jirou's EDM music she put together for tonight.

Kaminari was already drunk. You didn't know how that was possible but based off of the way he was playing with Ojiro's tail, refusing to detach from it even after he politely asked him to let go, you could conclude as such pretty confidently.

You followed Kirishima curiously as he led you away from everyone else, interest piqued when he brought you to where the appetizers that were previously were being replaced with desserts and your confusion grew when he inched as far to the wall as he possibly could.

"Kiri?" You questioned. "Why are we—"

"Shh!!!" He shushed quickly, waving his hands frantically, his eyes darting everywhere as though he was about to tell you something that could land him in jail.

Or worse.

He motioned you to come closer so that nobody else would hear and you scooted towards him, until his mouth was right by your ear.

And then, your jaw dropped in shock.

"WHATTTTT?!?!" You shrieked and Kirishima hushed you hurriedly, smiling apologetically at a skeptical Bakugou who looked your way due to your volume.

You took a hint but your outrage didn't fade. "What the fuck, Kiri?! Why didn't you tell me this sooner?!"

Red Riot had just oh so kindly informed you that it was in fact, Bakugou's birthday.

Today.

If what he told you was the truth, which at this point you really didn't know, Mina, Sero and Kaminari were the only other ones who knew. You wouldn't put it past Midoriya to also be included in that group, seeing as how they were childhood friends who moved past their intense rivalry stage and developed a decent amount of healthy competition as pros.

But that still didn't explain why he was telling you this now.

Oh wait.

Shit.

If that was true, then you had barged into his room uninvited because you didn't want to sleep in the same room as Mineta, on his birthday.

You cursed yourself under your breath and without another word, you tore past Kirishima with a hurried apology and a half-assed excuse to pardon your abrupt exit and sprinted towards the elevators, your heart pounding. You didn't stop running until you reached the room, grabbing all your things and throwing them in your suitcase, thoughts running wild at how stupid you could be.

You hadn't even bothered to take off your dress before gathering your things hastily, you were that distracted.

As you stuffed the last of your things in your bag, you circled the room, realizing you now didn't know the next step to this plan of yours.

You really should've thought this through before you came upstairs and talked to one of the receptionists downstairs to see if another arrangement can be made. Or maybe you could persuade one of the girls to let you crash for one night until you could figure things out for the next day.

You were sure Yaoyorozu would concede if you begged hard enough.

But you didn't want to take a chance of Bakugou seeing you so you didn't linger in the lobby, which was in clear view of where the party was being held.

This was bad, you didn't have anywhere to go. You would need to go talk to someone for another room which means you have to go back downstairs.

Well, maybe not. Maybe you could call downstairs and have them—

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

You froze at the temperamental voice seething with fury and dropped the hotel phone you had grabbed in the heat of the moment, squeaking when you saw how livid Bakugou looked and tripped over your feet, falling backwards onto the bed.

Your body bounced as it hit the mattress and you covered your face as he strode toward you, and you bolted back up to your feet, mumbling through your fingers.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea it was your birthday today!!!" You squeaked, mortified you had been acting so casually on such an important day. You didn't even have a present for him and you gave him overcooked food after trampling on his privacy!!

Leaning against the doorway, Bakugou raised an eyebrow and scoffed irritably as he put the pieces together for himself. "Shitty Hair should've fucking kept his mouth shut."

"I didn't know!!" You cried out, mistaking his rage geared towards his best friend for barging in on his personal space even after he so clearly told you off when he first saw you. Like an idiot, you had thought that he really didn't mind.

Maybe you couldn't read him as well as you thought you could.

"I don't care." Bakugou snarled, annoyed that you didn't seem to get it after all this time as he stomped forward, closing the door behind him and clicking the lock with finality as you tried to scramble past him. "Where do you think you're going, shithead? I didn't say you could fucking leave."

You did a double take and blinked slowly, unsure you really heard him right. It was true you hadn't considered that a possibility, this was Bakugou you were talking about. He hated everybody.

Well, not really, but close enough to make it so that you were sure that he wanted his privacy.

Especially on his birthday.

"I-I—"

Bakugou rolled his eyes irritably. You didn't get it. Fucking fine.

Your eyes shot open as he smashed his lips onto yours but before you even had a chance to do anything about it, shove him off or pull him closer, though it was more likely the latter, he was gone.

Standing with an indifferent expression on his face, he loomed over you and your heart leapt in your throat.

"Holy— Is this real?" You asked breathlessly, fingers tentatively reaching out to run over his tie and make sure you weren't dreaming.

Bakugou smirked at the awe in your voice and it only grew bigger when he noticed how glassy your eyes looked. So he did have the same fucking effect on you that you did on him.

Good.

"Tell me to stop and I will." He declared, crowding you closer as he stepped forward, hot breath puffing out against your lips and you shivered.

You blinked slowly, looking up at him from under your lashes. "... And if I don't want you to?"

"Fuck—" Was all Bakugou got out before he was surging forward, grabbing your shoulders so you couldn't escape.

A muffled squeak tumbled from your lips before it was smothered and you gasped into his mouth as your knees hit the edge of the bed.

As you fell, Bakugou climbed onto the bed and pinned you to the mattress, never once breaking the kiss as he cushioned your fall. His hands fell to your waist as the other entwined in your hair and he let out a groan as you playfully nipped his bottom lip.

"Shit," He breathed when you broke away first, lungs burning with the need for oxygen but you had barely taken a breath when he tilted your jaw back towards him and connected your lips again, harder this time.

It was hot, too hot and he moved languidly in a way that contrasted so starkly with his short-tempered personality that it made your head spin.

"W-What?!" You exclaimed in shock as soon as he drew back to let you breathe, your hands covering your flushed cheeks despite the fact that he could still see you due to the proximity. "Where did that even come from?!"

You were all flustered now and your dress had slipped down a bit further, giving him a peek of what was to come if he didn't stop soon.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. If you didn't get it now, you were even more of an idiot than he thought.

"You can stay." He mumbled gruffly, dropping his gaze from yours.

It took a minute to understand what he was saying.

Coming to your senses, you grinned as you processed his words. He didn't say no outright to what you asked directly so you would take it. The hesitance had all been reduced to a trickle as it caused a hiccup in your thoughts but you tried to see it in a different light.

Maybe he really didn't mind, he wasn't one to lie, especially for no reason. Maybe he was feeling lonely and wanted company for tonight.

Maybe... he liked you too? Was that too far-fetched to believe?

"Really?" You smirked as you waggled your eyebrows at him. "You want someone to keep you warm tonight?

Bakugou flipped you off and you burst out laughing. Wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down after a few moments, you grinned.

"I had no idea you could be so soft, Bakugou." You teased lightly.

He scowled angrily and sat up, folding his arms over his chest as he stared down at you. "Shut up, you don't make it fucking easy."

You were being such a fucking nuisance. He regretted saying anything in the first place. Who had so many questions after somebody kissed them?

Your eyes glinted mischievous. "Oh yeah?"

He did something you didn't expect.

"Yeah..." Bakugou trailed off quietly, something resembling fondness flickering in the depths of his vermilion eyes.

Your heart started to beat faster and you swallowed. His face was a millimeter away from yours and it was getting harder to breath. His body temperature was so high that you could feel the heat emitting from his form and engulfing you like a warm hug.

"When did it start?" You asked softly, curiosity winning out against the flutter of embarrassment you felt in your chest.

He didn't say it out loud but he didn't have to. You could see it in his eyes that same love that you held for him. How you went all this time without seeing it, you didn't know.

Bakugou's throat bobbed as he dodged your inquisitive gaze, his eyes only darting back to you when you sat upright and smoothed your dress as best as you possibly could to prevent it from wrinkling.

"I dunno." He mumbled quietly. "Since high school or some shit."

"High school?!" You shrieked in disbelief, nearly falling over as you realized it had started around the same time your feelings for him developed. You expected him to say within the last few months when you’ve been working together more frequently, not that he started liking you back at UA!!

He groaned at your grating volume against his ears. Too loud.

"Well hell if I know, shitty woman." He growled loudly. "I can't fucking remember everything."

You grin widened. "That sounds like denial~"

His mouth twisted back in an irritated frown. You were crazy. But somehow, that didn't put him off as much as he claimed to believe.

"It was after the training camp."

You bolted upright at that. You were not expecting him to say that.

After you two were stolen by the League right out from underneath your classmates' noses, you two were put in separate rooms until it was clear you refused to listen to what you had to say until you saw that Bakugou was okay.

He knew, the second they brought you in all chained to the chair and shit just like he was, that he was going to raise hell and murder every single last one of them.

He couldn't go ballistic yet, because as your tired but alert eyes met his from across the room, he knew that this setup increased your chances.

All you needed was an opening.

Shigaraki and Dabi had turned their attention on your first, trying to recruit you and you had tricked them, pretending to sympathize with their cause and got them to trust you by feeding Shigaraki's dark nature and Dabi's sadistic side.

You took their attention off of him and damn it, if it wasn't the bravest and baddest fucking move he'd ever seen.

The both of you had your own nightmares from that terrifying experience.

You couldn't stand to be restrained after that, even if it was only for a second, and Bakugou hated having anything touch his neck.

After he finished telling you all of that, you tackled him in a hug.

Bakugou's hand shot out to catch himself as the two of you toppled over before you crashed to the ground and he muttered a curse into your hair when you nuzzled into his chest.

"Dumbass." He remarked under his breath, hoping you couldn't hear how fast his heart was pounding. "What about you?"

"Hmmm?" You hummed, momentarily forgetting what it was that you were talking about since all you could think about now was how his eyes shone with unshed tears as he relieved that terrible memory. But the fact that you were able to give him some small sense of comfort even though you were truthfully freaking out on the inside at the time, was the best thing he could've ever told you.

Well, right next to the depth of his feelings for you.

Bakugou scoffed and scooted forward so that the two of you were teetering on the edge of the mattress. A concussion was not how he wanted tonight to end.

"Tell me when all of your shitty feelings started." He demanded with a blush present on his cheeks and you bit your lip to contain a giggle.

Laying your head on his chest, you idly traced patterns on his shirt since he had shed it outer jacket. "I don't know exactly when it turned from a crush into actual love, but when you got hospitalized, I supposed I realized it then."

Bakugou jerked, stiffening as you mentioned the incident no one ever brought up.

Taking note of his reaction, you affirmed quietly. "We don't have to talk about it, but that's when it started. When I saw how close I could've been to losing you."

Bakugou's heavy breath eased up bit by bit as those words fell from your lips and he closed his eyes. He wasn't ready to talk about it now, but he thought that he would like to one day. If you were still by his side.

The next twenty minutes were spent entangled in each other's embrace as you two made up for lost time, talking about anything and everything came to mind.

Your old infatuation with Shindou that was short-lived because of your feelings for him and Bakugou couldn't help gloating that you were his even then.

How much he longed that he had confessed sooner. Maybe then you would've had those years together.

But he didn't dwell on it, he knew that it would become one of his demons if he lived in the past instead of the present and instead focused on combing his fingers through your hair, reveling in your closeness.

He hummed lowly as he caught a whiff of your fragrance. "Banana and citrus, huh?"

You beamed up at him, twisting around to look at him properly. "You gave it to me!!"

Bakugou smirked, hooking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Damn right I did."

After realizing that the two of you couldn't cuddle forever in your formal wear, you reluctantly untangled from him and started to take off your dress, only to find out that you couldn't do that without his help.

Your breath caught in your throat when he came to stand right behind you, just like before, only this time he was much closer to you, fingertips ghosting over your bare skin in the zipper's wake as he trailed light kisses down your back until he reached the curve of the small of your back.

You whined when he stopped and a smirk curved against the juncture where your shoulder met your neck and you swatted at him playfully.

Bakugou made you sit down so he could take your shoes off before you fell and broke something.

You pouted but did as you were told, quite liking how his calloused hands skimmed over your shins and ankles, and you gasped when he pressed a chaste kiss to your knee.

"Stop teasing me." You whined and he flashed you a grin, tossing your shoes somewhere else.

Bakugou relished in your flustered state, loving how he could make you like this with barely any effort. "It's your fucking turn now, shithead."

"Hey!!"

It was only until after Bakugou had gotten dressed in comfy clothes of his choice, a pair of sweatpants and a tight-fitted long sleeve that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, did you realize it was getting colder and colder by the minute.

The heater was broken and after multiple attempts of tinkering with the settings to get it to start, Bakugou was about to set the thing on fire, but you stopped him just in time.

"Shitty heater." He muttered frustratingly, his palms still popping with sparks. "Fucking five stars my ass."

He threw a tantrum for another minute before giving up, not even bothering to call downstairs to get them to fix it because he didn't want anyone in his 'personal space'. Oddly enough, you felt kind of happy that he was letting you in his personal space without any a fight.

You giggled and he raised an eyebrow at you after throwing you his hoodie, begrudgingly, but he still did it so you weren't complaining about the temperature. "It's just, I never imagined you'd be the one to confess."

He turned to you, a mix of irritation and poorly suppressed puzzlement on his face. "Hah?"

You bit back a smile at his tamed reaction. How cute.

"It's just in all the scenarios in my head," You drew your knees up to your chest and rested your chin on top. "I was always the one confessing to you and then getting rejected."

Bakugou scoffed, stomping over to you with a slight pout that would've been unnoticeable if the light was any dimmer. The curtains had been drawn, basking the room in a warm glow that came from the fairy lights strung around the room that had you failed to notice earlier.

"Yeah, well, now fucking look what happened." He grumbled, flicking a piece of lint off your head. "You invaded my room like a cockroach or some shit."

You were sitting upright against the headboard on top of the velvet comforter without a care in the world as your sweater paws flapped playfully. In such a high-end hotel room, the two of you in casual attire looked sorely out of place but it didn't matter.

You were happier than ever before.

"Uh, excuse me, I take offense to that analogy." You teased back with a cheeky grin, shoving his shoulder when he crawled on the bed with you, abandoning his quest to fix the heater. "And I do recall mentioning how it was either this or Mineta's room, so it's not my fault."

Bakugou's mouth twisted into a scowl as you said the pervert's name and he huffed before looping his arms around your waist and laying flat on your legs. His head buried into your stomach, your eyes softened and you brushed the hair back from his eyes, his eyelids closing at the soothing sensation of you carding your fingers through his hair.

You hummed to yourself as he started drifting off. "Soft..."

"Fuck off." He mumbled into your waist but there was none of the usual venom to it.

Your chest shook with laughter at his unusual response but when you moved to stop just like he had ordered, he caught your wrist. You raised an eyebrow as he looked away from you, the red tint adorning his cheeks giving away what he wanted you to do and without a word, you obliged without so much as a hidden smile.

Bakugou sank into you, his broad shoulders going lax as all the tension melted from his body and he sighed peacefully. He hated socializing. The only good part of that reunion Raccoon-Eyes had coordinated was seeing you all dressed up.

He didn't tell you at the time, he honestly couldn't say it. He was fucking speechless the second you stepped out of the room.

But you looked like a vision underneath those flashy lights that hurt his eyes in the ballroom. You were absolutely stunning and put all of those other extras to shame. He didn't even spew an insult he was going to when he overheard Raccoon-Eyes squeal and proclaim how gorgeous you looked because she wasn't wrong.

You were beautiful. And way out of his league.

It was all he could think about all the way down the elevator and into the party, even after you broke off from him. At least, it was all he could think about until Dunce Face decided to make a move on you, being all suave and slick.

At the time, he was ready to storm over there and break it up until you laughed at something Kaminari said and he was painfully reminded of how you weren't his.

He then proceeded to drown all of his sorrows at the bar but cursed his inability to get shit-faced due to his high tolerance.

Exploding in a fit of rage over the culmination of how dazzling you were, how some guy was probably going to get lucky tonight and it wasn't going to be him, and how fucked up the situation was that you were going to be staying with him while he had a raging boner for you 24/7, he stalked upstairs to go pout in the corner only to find you stammering out apologies and packing your suitcase.

He vaguely remembered something about you saying something about his birthday and that's when he snapped.

To put it bluntly, he had never been a fan of celebrating useless holidays. People ate food and used it as an excuse to all gather in one place and socialize with all their fake friends, he hated scenes like that.

Which is why he was against this reunion at first but something in the back of his mind convinced him to come. Something that said that if he showed up, there was a good chance that you would be here too and it would make all of this worth it.

And that was only confirmed when Kirishima slipped that little tidbit of information in his invitation via text.

Bakugou couldn't believe his luck when he walked into his hotel room and you were standing right there. There was something so soft, so domestic about it that had him dropping his bag instantaneously and he fought to rein in his instincts to stride over to you and hug you from behind. He would rest his chin on your shoulder and ask what you were cooking, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt as he hinted at what he wanted to do before the kids came home.

That was the type of future he had always envisioned with you. The one he always thought would be unobtainable. The one that he constantly dreamed about anytime he got a break from the nightmares and darkness that plagued his thoughts constantly.

And now you were all his. All of that was suddenly possible. He had a chance with the best thing that ever walked into his life and he wasn't going to screw it up.

Realistically, and he was a very realistic person despite being short-tempered, he knew he was getting ahead of himself. Take it slow, he had to tell himself to take it slow.

You hummed, bringing him back down to reality. "Where's that head of yours at?"

"Fuck off and die."

But his threat came out muffled as his face was currently nuzzled into your stomach and you couldn't stop the fit of laughter that burst out as you giggled uncontrollably, laughing even harder when he looked up to glare at you, only for his eyes to be so glazed over from how relaxed he was that you would've mistaken it for subspace if not for his mouth twitching irritably.

"Aw, is baby maybe a little comfy?"

He hissed and untangled himself from you, pouting like a little kid as he created some distance between you two. "I'm not a fucking baby."

You cooed and pinched his cheeks, pulling them apart slightly and giggled at how squishy he looked in that moment. "Dummy."

Bakugou snorted arrogantly but didn't shove you off despite his hard glare. "The only dumbass here is you."

"I didn't say dumbass, I said dummy." You corrected matter-of-factly. "And besides, it's a term of endearment, Katsuki."

He rolled his eyes but his heart trembled dangerously as he heard his given name fall from your lips so sweetly for the first time. He would never get tired of hearing that.

Bakugou cleared his throat and removed your hands from his face, your forlorn pout not passing by unnoticed.

"Fucking idiot." He mumbled under his breath, bringing a hand up to rest it on your head briefly as he leaned his forehead against yours for a second.

You grinned, a full-blown smile that caused his heart to skip a beat at how radiant you were. And then, he got an idea.

But you were surprised when he suddenly got up and tilted your head curiously when he exited the room.

Unlike before when you were so quick to jump to a conclusion, you assumed he had a reason for leaving so abruptly without explanation.

The gears turned in your head as you followed him out, bringing the blanket with for good measure because you were freezing. Until the maintenance could get here, you would have to deal with the chill. Apparently this was an issue that didn't just pertain to you.

Todoroki had texted you and said he was having issues with his too, along with some others who had filed out from the ballroom to crash in their own rooms for the night.

But waiting wasn't too hard. Perhaps you could persuade your new boyfriend to cuddle you.

You poked your head around the corner, growing even more puzzled as Bakugou stomped around, grabbing his keys first before hunting for something else.

"What are you doing?" You asked, unable to quell your curiosity and bewilderment.

He threw an embellished pillow back down on the couch as soon as he checked under it. "I don't know where I put my fucking wallet."

You laughed at his grumble and patted his chest with a wink. "Wait here."

Bakugou eyed you suspiciously as burrito-you darted off back towards the bedroom but his expression cleared up when you came racing back with the slim wallet in your hand, thankfully leaving behind the blanket as you caught onto what he was doing. He took it silently, frustrated with himself for not checking his coat pocket first to save him of this embarrassment.

"Thank you." He mumbled as he turned away. He felt like he was ten again, that's how damn shy he was when it came to you.

A broad grin spread from ear to ear on your face.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You asked cheekily and he scowled.

"I didn't fucking say anything!!" He exploded, grabbing your wrist and stomping towards the door. "Hurry up, we're leaving."

"Eh?!" You protested but didn't fight him. "Where are we going?"

You were only wearing shorts and his hoodie over your thickest thermal. Since it was warm outside, you hadn't bothered to pack any extra layer and you shivered as a chill ran down your spine. Yup, definitely couldn't wait to go back outside.

"None of your damn business." Bakugou spat as he dragged you out of the room and locked the door.

You continued to pepper him with questions, increasing your pitch when you saw how his nose twitched every single time you annoyed him.

Adorable.

By the time you got back down to the first floor, you were clinging to his arm, teeth chattering from the air conditioning, and he was facing away from you in a manner that clearly stated he regretted bringing you along.

"You love me~" You teased.

"Shut the fuck up. Like hell anyone would like a dumbass like you." He seethed but still didn't pry you off despite him claiming all those things.

You giggled, skipping on ahead. Once you got outside, you spun around on your heel, jutting out your hip. The warmth of the night air was refreshing and you took in a deep breath, smiling widely.

"Where are we going?!" You asked excitedly, trailing behind him as he started walking away, catching up and almost tripping in the process.

Bakugou caught your arm in a flash as you tipped forward, an angry frown etched on his face but you merely beamed at him and thanked him for catching you.

He turned away with a scoff but grabbed your hand to make sure it didn't happen again. "You're fucking clumsy."

Your smile widened as you detected the tiniest bit of worry underlying his sharp tone and you squeezed his hand, heart skipping a beat when he tucked you underneath his arm.

For safety purposes, you assumed.

You snuggled into his side with a blissful sigh. He was so much warmer than you were, it felt so good.

Bakugou spared you a glance out of the corner of his eye and his chest swelled with pride at the eyes that turned, undoubtedly seeing how unashamed you were to be with him. Holy All Might, you were perfect.

The Solaria Hotel was only a five minute walk away from Lunchrush's Grocery Store, a rather huge chain store that had establishments all over Japan, owned by the hero himself. The same hero whose delicious cooking you guys had lived off of for a blessed three years.

"What are we doing here?" You quipped as your eyes widened the moment you strolled in and took in the vibrant colors of all the produce and many packages that lined the shelves.

"I'm not paying shit for that overpriced room service." Bakugou stated flatly as he tossed you a bundle of carrots he just selected.

Your eyes widened as you quickly caught on. "We're going to be cooking?!"

He snorted, sifting through the produce section to find what he was looking for, weeding out the ones that were no good. "No shit, dumbass."

"Hey!!" You protested but carried on without complaint.

The kitchen in your room was fully equipped with all the amenities. Top of the grade appliances and sterling silverware made you feel like you were going to break something initially but that faded pretty fast as your excitement won over. The only thing it was missing was the food.

You had bought ingredients to make a simple stew on the way to the hotel and stored the leftovers in the large fridge.

The Solaria Hotel did offer pre-organized food boxes that came with various delicious ingredients to make it easy on whoever bought it but they were outrageously priced. Hence why you were now browsing the aisles with a disgruntled Bakugou instead of just purchasing one of those.

But you were definitely not going to complain. One of those boxes could drain your entire month's rent in one go and you were told that the portion sizes weren't very big either.

Definitely not worth it.

You would think that since he was the one to bring you here, he would be more enthusiastic, but no. He was more interested in having a staring contest with the brat at the end of the aisle who was making faces at him as soon as he grabbed the last of the things he needed.

You tugged on his arms, trying and failing to get him to break eye contact with the little boy he was glaring to death.

"Katsuki, c'mon," You begged, losing a battle against that ridiculously fit physique of his. You guys were attracting all kinds of unwanted attention from other shoppers and the mom of the little boy was getting a little curious as to the silent competition going on. "Let's just go."

"No way." He gritted out, never once looking away. "This damn brat needs to learn his f—"

He didn't get to finish the rest of his sentence as you forcibly dragged him away to the cash registers. You shook your head as he scowled and crossed his arms stubbornly. He was such a child sometimes.

Bakugou was so busy pouting that you had dragged him away and made him lose by default that he didn't notice you were already paying for the groceries.

"Oi." He barked at you as you hustled outside with the sky painted dark as night. Only the street lamps and lights hitched up outside the strip mall illuminated the area. "Oi!!"

You flashed him a grin. "Yes, Katsuki?"

He rolled his eyes at the innocent lilt in your voice, acting as if you didn't know exactly what you did. You weren't supposed to pay for anything, he was supposed to be treating you.

"But it's your birthday~" You sang. "And I wanted to!!"

"Tch." He whipped his head around, dodging you as you followed him around playfully.

You were like a dog and he was the bone. He wasn't sure he liked that analogy as much as what it implied.

As soon as you pushed through the grand doors of the lavish hotel, you bumped into someone and sent them crashing to the ground.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry— Wait," You gawked in astonishment at the wasted man before you. "Kirishima?!"

He groaned and rubbed his head. He was sent sprawling after you bumped into him, catching the attention of Mina who was strolling by with a half-conscious Sero on her arm.

"Kirishima, what are you doing?!" Mina exclaimed as she bounded over just as you were helping him up after setting Sero down and making sure that he wasn't going to move. She looked the most awake out of all of them. "Don't run off ahead like that!!"

Bakugou didn't do a thing, choosing to only tap his foot impatiently while he waited for you to be done attending to his shitty best friend.

"L/N!!" He slurred and it was then that you realized he was more than a bit tipsy. "I'm soooooo sorry for not telling you about Bakugou's birthday earlier, it was totally my bad."

You raised an eyebrow at hearing him speak in such an unusual way. Alcohol certainly did things to the brain.

Kirishima clapped his hand on your shoulder, ignoring Sero's whining for him to come back as he peeled Mina away from you three, telling her that he was fine.

Lowering his voice, Kirishima wiggled his eyebrows at you comically and caused you to giggle.

"So... how did Bakugou react when ya told him?" He asked in a whisper that was a lot louder than his drunken mind probably intended.

You flushed as Bakugou's inquisitive gaze fixated on you.

"I'm right here, Shitty Hair." He droned, completely uninterested in the way that this conversation was going.

Kirishima's head snapped up at hearing his voice for the first time and though his dilated pupils had a hard time focusing, he eventually managed to do it and a wide, toothy grin spread from ear to ear.

"Bakubro!!" He drunkenly cheered, throwing his arms out and running towards him.

Bakugou scowled, shoving him away as he went to hug him. "Don't fucking call me that."

Kirishima pouted and whined sadly.

"Awwww but you call me Weird Hair all the time." He complained.

Bakugou grinned. "That's because your hair is a shitty color."

"Hey!!" Kirishima's eyes watered and his lower lip trembled. He burst into tears, clinging to you as you drifted back to Bakugou's side.

Mina's golden irises glinted. "Sooooo, does this mean you guys are together?"

You blushed at the brazen implication and sheepishly nodded, unsure of what else to do.

Bakugou stepped in. He slung his arm around your shoulder, uncaring that he now had a much larger audience now that Midoriya, Iida, Ochako, Tsuyu, Shinsou and Shoji decided to venture outside, others coming out in a steady trickle as the night wrapped up.

You huddled closer to his side, hiding your face in his shoulder, growing nervous at all your friends gathering for reasons you'd rather not voice. You weren't sure how Bakugou would take this, if he would deny you in front of all of them.

He didn't seem like the type but a previous ex had been ashamed of you before so now you were wary. Rightfully so, the guy was a complete prick.

You hadn't dated for very long but it was impactful. The guy hadn't gotten close to your heart but the fact that he wasn't big on physical affection and never wanted to hold your hand in public sent the message that he didn't want to be seen with you.

That had never really sat well with you.

You didn't mind at first. After all, you understood that people had different love languages but he put in absolutely no effort to understand yours. But after a while, it was tiring contributing to a relationship that wasn't reciprocated.

You glanced up at Bakugou as he pulled you in tighter to his side.

"Listen up." He stated roughly, making sure everyone was paying attention. "She's my girl now, so don't you extras try any shit."

Bakugou practically smirked proudly as he stared pointedly at a sheepish-looking Kaminari hiding behind an indifferent Jirou. He was rubbing it in his face for the balls he had to flirt with you earlier.

But that didn't make his declaration any less true or genuine. He was proud to have you by his side, even now more than ever as the two of you explored this new part of your life together.

Hagakure and Ochako squealed at his declaration of love and if it was possible, you reddened even further. But you couldn't kid anyone. You felt like you were flying.

Hiding your face in your hands, your embarrassment came out muffled. "Katsuki..."

He snorted at your shyness, then steered you towards the elevators with you tucked under his arm without so much as a wave of farewell to your friends. He saw your knees knocking together, he knew you were fucking cold, so time to go.

You wiggled, shooting the girls an apologetic smile and laughed loudly as Sero and Kaminari obnoxiously whooped and hollered after you two.

Bakugou flipped them the bird, hiding a proud smile when their drunken cheers only grew louder as Kirishima and Shinsou joined in.

"Oi." He poked you cheek as you didn't lift your face away from your new hiding spot to spare you of any more mortification. "Wake the fuck up, shithead."

A cheeky mumble emerged from where your cheek was ordered up against his shirt. "Is that any way to treat your girlfriend?"

"It is when you're being a dumbass." He retorted flatly.

"Hey!!" You cried out indignantly.

You rode the elevator up, squabbling incessantly the entire way there, drawing odd looks from a few of the other guests that you passed but that paled in comparison to your wide smiles and the satisfied smirk permanently plastered on Bakugou's face.

You were having way too much fun to care about anything else.

Once you made it back to your room successfully, you got to work right away.

Giddy over the fact that he had shown you off and high on the endorphins him claiming you in front of all your friends and fellow colleagues brought you had made you extremely hungry. Keeping up with all of Bakugou's newfound love that he was expressing had zapped your energy far more than you were willing to admit.

"Oi, you're shit at cooking." Bakugou said after a minute of watching you wreck everything in the kitchen.

"Don't yell at me!! I already know I suck at it!!" You whined childishly, throwing up the spatula in frustration.

Bakugou chuckled, plucking the wretched thing from your fingers and took over. You had managed to make soup earlier and not burn down the place in the process so he wasn't sure why stirring the pot was now such a big deal.

But he shook his head as he caught the glint of mischief in your eye. He knew that look. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Fuck, he was screwed. He never should've told you how long he had pined after you. But it was no use, he was too weak for you.

You balked at the soft expression on his face. He had never looked at you like that before.

Before you knew what you were doing, you were blurting out how him declaring that in front of all of your friends had made you so happy and at the downward curve of displeasure on Bakugou's face, you elaborated that you had someone who didn't make you feel very loved in the past.

You weren't sure why you were telling him this. It wasn't like it was exactly easy to say all of this out loud but after years of knowing him, you knew he was the last person who would judge you for feeling the way you were feeling.

So you spilled it all.

You squeaked in surprise as he caught you off guard once you finished, crushing you to his chest. Your hands lifted up and automatically looped around his neck, stumbling a bit as he backed you up against the counter.

"Katsuki?!" You exclaimed in astonishment at the sudden display of affection from the normally so standoffish guy.

"I will never be ashamed of you. You're stuck with me for fucking forever and I'll kill you if you say any other shit." Bakugou muttered into the crook of your neck.

You were moved at his expression of the feelings he had for you and clutched onto the back of his shirt, hugging him tight.

He stayed there, in the same position, pinning you to the counter of the kitchen in the hotel room you had come to share and embraced you until you peeled away.

Bakugou's eyes softened when you looked away from him and sniffled. It could be classified as very unladylike, the way you wiped your nose with the back of your hand, but he didn't give a damn.

You were his.

After all these years of pining after you, thinking that he would never be enough to have you, thinking that he would never amount to someone who deserved you, you were finally his.

His heart was going to explode but if he let that happen, he would have to deal with Shitty Hair, Dunce Face, Raccoon-Eyes and Flat Face for the rest of his fucking life and like hell he would put up with those irritating extras.

Even if they did kind of manage to bring you two together.

The table for two at dinner, your messed up reservation that left you without a place to crash and that dress Ponytail Girl had bought for you, it all added up. They had been planning this for years since they knew of the feelings you both held for each other.

All you needed was a push.

Whatever. There was no way he was going to give them credit for this. They would probably use it as blackmail at some point and he was not going to tolerate that.

He quickly finished up the home cooked meal, flipping open the cap to the soy sauce you bought and drizzled it on top, adding a few drops of sesame oil to complete it and shoved a plate in your direction to bring into the bedroom while he quickly did the dishes.

The midnight moon's light spilled into the room as you danced around Bakugou, carrying two plates full of warm food to the bed after you were done goofing around and pretending to drop them. Sheer silk curtains hanging from the canopy of the bed swished in your wake as you breezed by to open the french doors, setting the plates down on his nightstand before gliding across the balcony that you had missed upon your initial exploration of the room.

This place was so big, you wouldn't be surprised if there was some sort of secret passageway in the closet that led to the other rooms.

The night air was pleasant and a welcome change of temperature as it soothed your chilly skin.

You smiled to yourself as Bakugou came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply. His heat encompassed you as he hugged you from behind and lightly kissed the spot just below your ear.

You giggled at the ticklish sensation and gasped when he pinched your side in retaliation.

"Katsuki~"

His given name still felt foreign on your tongue but you'd be damned if you didn't get used to it with the flustered reaction he never failed to give you.

"Don't fucking start with me, dumbass." He smirked, growling lowly. "I don't have a fucking problem with putting you in your place."

You cocked your head to the side, playing dumb, pretending you didn't know what that insinuation meant. "Oh?"

Bakugou groaned as the mood suddenly vanished. "Piss off."

Bakugou cracked a smile though when your easy laughter rang out. Yeah, it wasn't fair that he was left in a now uncomfortable situation but it was worth it to endure if he could hear that sound again.

Fuck, you were so precious.

The late night room service dished out by yours truly was served on the bed while you giggled underneath the covers, hiding from him and shrieking when he found you.

It was warm and fuzzy, the atmosphere easy and relaxed as you cuddled up to him and ate the food he made for you specifically so that it wouldn't make your stomach hurt.

Initially, he had declared that eating on the bed was going to be fucking dirty and messy if you spilled anything, which he was almost 100% sure you would, but gave into you when you transfixed your wide eyes on him, pleading for this one thing.

The two of you didn't look at each other while you ate, you didn't need to. The stolen glances between bites of food were enough as you shared idly and informal conversation to get to know each other better now that your feelings had been aired and returned by the other.

The quiet confession that rang out from you both was almost tear-jerking as he confessed he never thought he would get a chance to be with someone like you and you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, telling him that he deserved the world and more, and if one day you could give it to him, you would.

The heater had yet to be fixed but that didn't bother him anymore as he used the opportunity to gather you in his arms and hug you tight.

Yeah, you two needed to make up for lost time but for now, he was more than content to just let it be. Tangled with you, under the moon and the stars as he kissed you, he swore that he would never stop fighting for you, to protect you always and cherish you with all that he fucking had.

Because Bakugou Katsuki, the man who didn't need anything or anyone to go up against the toughest villains to date, fell to pieces when it came to you.

Bonus:

"I still can't believe you told me that so late. I could've gotten him a gift!!" You complained to Kirishima on the second day when he was hungover and groaning, throwing pillows at you to get you out of his room.

You managed to dodge every last one.

"I mean, I don't get it." You tapped a finger to your chin coyly as you smoothly sidestepped and twirled around two more he launched in your direction. He was going to run out of ammo at this point. "Why tell me so late? And if you guys already knew, then I'm surprised you didn't get anything for him or throw a party or something."

Sero groaned painfully in the corner, his head felt like it was going to split in two and he was quite certain it would if you didn't stop talking soon. "Y/N, it's so early."

"It's noon." You deadpanned, only for Sero to slap a pillow over his face and promptly fall back asleep.

"Y/N!!" Mina called out as she bustled back into the bedroom with a tray of tea. "Where did that boyfriend of yours run off to?"

You blushed as she said it so bluntly and coughed to hide it. "He's trying to get the heater thing sorted out."

Last night, you had been shivering so much that he had taken to warming you up other ways just to get your teeth to stop chattering. And let's just say it was a little harder to walk today because of it.

This morning when you woke up, he had been yelling into the phone that they needed to bring more blankets up right fucking now or else he would explode off their arms since they couldn't do the most fucking simple of tasks and you swiped the phone from him, rapidly and profusely apologizing for his brash language on behalf of the angry pomeranian simmering beside you.

You threw in that you would be grateful if they could spare more but if others needed it more than you told them you two would be fine and could make do before thanking them for their time and hanging up.

And since Bakugou insisted that the heater needed to be fixed today or else you were going to get sick, he allocated you to Kirishima's room, one of the only ones not having any problems while he demanded some answers from the hotel staff and got someone to fucking fix the shitty thing.

So now, here you were. And you had a score to settle with Kirishima anyways, so you weren't bothered.

Mina had already told you everything. Everyone had been in on it.

You weren't shocked by Kaminari and Shinsou and most of the others' involvement in this little scheme but you were surprised to hear it had been Iida's idea to make both of you sit at the same table with no other company.

You'd have to thank them all later.

An hour and several more pillows thrown later, you and Mina had managed to drag down the two sleepy boys just in time to greet your old teachers alongside the rest of your peers as they stepped through the door.

"Aizawa-sensei!!" You cheered, launching yourself forward so that he'd have to catch you.

He did so without much difficulty, his tired eyes brightening up a little bit as you hugged him tight. Out of all his students, he had the closest bond with you.

"Hey, kid." He greeted tiredly, tugging along his sleeping bag and you lifted an eyebrow when you realized that while Midnight and Mic rolled in their luggage, he only brought his trademark yellow sleeping bag. All Might was parking the car and would be come inside within the next few minutes.

"Where's the rest of your things?" You asked just as Yaoyorozu and Iida greeted Midnight and Mic was tackled in a hug by Jirou.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before yawning. "You really think I'm going to do anything else besides sleep this weekend, kid? Nah."

You frowned at him. "You can't just sleep the whole day away."

"Uh uh," He tutted, wagging a finger in your face for a second before yawning again. "Not day. Days."

You pouted at the correction and he rolled his eyes, resting a hand on top of your head to let you know that he was just kidding and you smiled brightly.

"Here, at least let me help bring it upstairs." You bargained, taking it off his hands.

A smug voice stopped you dead in your tracks.

"Hey, Y/N, why you walking funny?" Kaminari said with a shit-eating grin and it took every fiber of self-control not to freak out.

"Uh, I'm not?"

But your high pitch due to your embarrassment and mortification at being called out won over and Shinsou sniggered in the background.

"Classy." He teased, crossing his arms over his chest. "Didn't peg you for the type to do it on the first date."

"Oh hush, show some respect!!" Yaoyorozu chastised but your dignity was long gone.

Your face broke out in relief though when the elevator in the lobby dinged and a disgruntled Bakugou stepped out, his vermilion eyes widening a fraction when you sped over to him.

"Whoa— What the, why the hell are your eyes red?!" He rushed out, gripping your shoulders and pulling your close to make sure he saw that right. His eyes narrowed angrily when you sniffled. "Tell me who the fuck made you cry."

"Oh shit." Kaminari and Shinsou swore under their breath as your enraged, extremely protective boyfriend stormed over to them with a deadly aura rolling off him in tsunami sized waves.

Midnight held up her hand, stopping him dead in his tracks at the authority his former teacher held. "Hold on please, just a second."

Everyone waited with bated breath to see what she would do. Would she defend you? Tell off Kaminari who had embarrassed you? Or would she let the hothead hell bent on vengeance regain your honor?

She didn't do any of those things.

Instead, Midnight smirked and held out her hand with the palm upturned to Aizawa with a sly smile. "Pay up. I called it."

Your mouth dropped, along with everyone else's as Aizawa forked over 10,000 yen. Even Koda, Sato and Tokoyami looked shocked, which was so rare, it scared you.

Todoroki was the only one who looked confused but Midoriya was right there to explain what was happening and why the sum of money so significant as you shrieked, shrill and high, thoroughly put off.

"What?!" Your embarrassment long forgotten, thankfully, by everyone else as this new revelation hit them like a truck. "You bet on us?!"

"Just you." Aizawa yawned nonchalantly, blinking his eyes wearily. "C'mon L/N, I thought you would turn him down."

"What?!" You screeched as Bakugou narrowed his eyes at his former homeroom teacher, taking that as a challenge.

Aizawa rolled his eyes as Bakugou got all up in his face, demanding to know just what he meant as Mic threw his head back and announced for all to hear.

"Y/NNNNNNN'S GOT A BOYYYYFRIENDDDD!!!!!!"

Clapping your hands over your ears as every single glass thing within the vicinity shattered, you grinned as the tremors passed by within a few seconds. One perk of having time as a teacher who used his quirk so often on accident, all of you learned how to mitigate the most damage he dealt to your surroundings and deflect it.

Jirou shook her head at you in amusement as Bakugou, who was the closest to Mic aside from Kaminari who had taken up refuge from behind Midnight, flatly stated that he could no longer hear.

To which, Mic screamed even louder.

"I CALLED IT FROM DAY ONEEEEEE!!!!"

"That's enough, Mic." Aizawa said, rubbing his temples to ease the headache that had just come on and offered up a slightly reassuring smile to Tsuyu who hopped over to check on him.

Mic pouted dramatically. "But Shouta—"

"Stop it, you're embarrassing them." He sighed, reining in the energetic blond. "And you embarrassing them is embarrassing me."

Midnight cooed. "Awww, he's happy for them."

"Shut up, Nemuri."

You giggled as the three of them began to bicker amongst themselves, who called it first, who saw the chemistry you two had, who was the first one to realize that it was more than just a school crush, all of it.

After beating up Kaminari and Shinsou behind their backs, Bakugou made his way over to you, wiping his hands on his pants and he smiled at you cockily.

"Heater's fixed."

You raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

He hummed. "Mmhm, so wanna get out of here?"

You laughed lightly, being careful not to draw too much attention to yourselves as you slipped away when Mic let out a particularly piercing shriek that he should've gotten the money because he paired the two of you for a project when you were in his English class.

Classic Mic.

"What about breakfast?" You asked as you two took the emergency stairs, at least, just for the first couple of floors until you were clear. You weren't sure your legs would survive the 80 flights just to reach your room.

Bakugou smirked and his mouth ghosted the shell of your ear. "Don't need that shit, I got something better."

Something told you that you weren't going to be leaving the bed for the rest of this trip.

Oh well.

You supposed this was one way to exercise.

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader oneshot #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader oneshot #ua reunion #aged up au #aged up bakugou #aizawa #midnight #present mic #jirou #kaminari #tsuyu #mina #yaoyorozu #kirishima #bakugou fluff #bakugou oneshot #my hero academia #my hero academia bakugou #shinsou #shoji #tokoyami #todoroki #implied smut #suggestive themes #bnhacity

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 1

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

 The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: Having a different approach to my formats. I’ve never been so nervous in creating something so difficult to do for you guys, especially since I’m here writing about the THREE HOTTEST MEN IN THE PLANET. Hoes and bros, I present to you a very indecisive reader and three assholes in a WWE ring.

WORDS: 6483 WARNINGS: NONE

 MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

You were there when it happened.

You didn’t want to be there.

But you were.

It would have been an eventful enough day, one of those you’d never live to forget, perhaps even in death. As dramatic as that would sound, it was true. The tears had already beaten you in awakening that dim morning and you knew it wasn’t in any way going to get any brighter, no matter how much of the sun was going to show up. You could, in detail, recall the sting in your muscles when you pulled on that bright orange dress, fixed your hair up in a bun and unenthusiastically put on your makeup. Bruce picked you up and you tried so hard to hide how you were practically dead on arrival to the Richard Grayson and Koriand’r Wedding.

Smiles. Even when they were uncalled for. It was so much more painful to do when it hurt every minute that ticked away, every second that carefully tore out every other smidge of hope you always thought there was. It was on you, then. For thinking there was any at all.

Kory looked stunning down that aisle, of course. Like all the other people in the room were rubbish. You couldn’t even watch her. Or him, standing at the end of that aisle with a smile so bright you wished was caused by anything else but her. But it was.

So you had your eyes closed. Or at least tried to.

Until it happened.

The sister. She looked exactly like Kori, except her flowing mane of hair was jet black and her skin burned red. Eyes were white, everything else she had on was dark. Blackfire.

Then the cheers turned into screams. Flower petals turned into broken glass. The fairy lights and décor turned into fire beams and lasers.

If it weren’t in a room full of superpowered heroes and vigilantes, they all would have died right then and there.

In the end, the wedding got called off. Everything was destroyed. Blackfire was sent to space prison and Dick and Kory had to reschedule the wedding.

Three months later, they still weren’t married.

After four months, Dick broke off their relationship entirely.

Five months passed, Kory went back to Tamaran.

At six months, Dick moved to Gotham from Bludhaven.

You never got to talk to Dick about it, or talk to him at all beyond the small exchanges and light conversations over the dinner table at the manor or the chatter by the fireplace. He never mentioned it. You didn’t want to pry. At times, you’d see how he’d stare at the carpet for a minute too long, how his knee suddenly stopped shaking or fidgeting all of a sudden when he got too deep into his thoughts like how he often did when he was bored, and how his laughs felt just a tad bit softer even when the jokes were hysterical.

Everyone told you to let him be for a while, since not even he could get too close to the subject. They told you what he was up to, how he was feeling that day. You tend to ask a lot. Because if there was anything worse than seeing him with someone else, it was seeing him almost destroy his own life part by part over the loss of his love.

No. You weren’t thrilled over what happened. It didn’t give you hope, or let your mind wander over the endless possibilities of what could happen to you, to him, to you both. And even if you had to try so hard, which you didn’t, you couldn’t possibly allow yourself to have some kind of satisfaction over the tragedy, not even when it supposedly served you, what you wanted.

This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want him to lose himself. You didn’t want him to be sunken into an abyss he was trying so hard to come out of.

Eventually, you’ll learn to let go. Properly. On your own pace. Not on anyone else’s.

Almost a year since the incident happened. He was okay now. Made the same jokes he always used to. Brightened up every room he went to. Went out with a few women every now and then. Saying you were used to that last one to the point where it didn’t even bother you anymore was both unnerving and understandable.

Everything was lighter now. Better. Dick was okay.

So why were you so nervous today?

Two pm. He was going to arrive any minute.

Dammit. That canvas. Lying on the floor like you were some kind of slob in a swamp. You went over and placed it against the wall. Plop, it fell right off. Cursing and fixing it up against all the other canvases up in the corner, everything just started to topple down like fucking dominos. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

You grabbed all the canvases with as much as your arms could carry, frantically looked around your little studio for some kind of rope you could tie these together just so they wouldn’t explode in anyone’s face.

Ding.

“Shiiiii-“

The fucking doorbell, and you didn’t even have any arms to open the door with. You looked to your bedroom, then to your kitchen. Fuck. There was a drawer-shit, it fell to the floor-a drawer right by your bed. You scrambled with your knees shaking harder than the San Andreas fault.

Ding.

“Just a minute!!!”

You stacked them on top of each other, shoved them under your bed, then fixed the mess of a cobweb that was your hair. The mirror must have been kind to you ‘cause you could have sworn you looked like a hobo by now. But there wasn’t any time for that.

Foggy throat cleared, face calm and cool (you hoped), you ran to the door and shook off the nerves.

“Hi, Di-” The door slammed open, only for it to almost pull off the hinges with the chain lock still on. Frantically, you closed it , took off the lock, then swung it again.

“Hi.”

Dick had his hands in his pockets, jacket as blue as his eyes and as bright as the glimmer in its irises. His smile brought both calm and chaos within your veins.

“Sorry. I, uh-“ your thumb pointed to your apartment. “I was cleaning.”

Cleaning?

“That’s okay. Can I come in?”

Poor thing was shivering. “Of course!”

Dick stepped into your apartment and dusted off his clothes. You took his jacket. “Thanks.” Then he ran his long fingers along his black strands.

Putting his coat over the rack, you pulled out the pillows from your lounge chair. “Sit here.”

“It’s fine.” His smile lightened up the room. “Thank you though.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Just water. Thanks.”

While you went into the kitchen, fumbling with the glass and water pitcher from the fridge, you called out to him. “You can go ahead to my studio!”

“Thanks,” you heard him call you back, then you followed him into the room, handing him the glass.

You already had the paintings lined up for him. Three canvases. Sitting up against the wall in a laid back, almost effortless looking arrangement when in fact, it was a lot of effort. You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard.

“Christ,” he walked over to the one in the middle. The most recent one you did, one of a birds eye view of the ocean right by the Gotham City docks. “How did you even get this shot?”

“I-uh,” you stood beside him. “It’s a shot from the Batwing. Bruce gave me the footage.”

“And that one?”

Times Square. The building was the only thing on the canvas, but there was so much detail on the windows, on the balconies, and even the neon lights right at the top.

“I took pictures from the street across. They wouldn’t let me stay there with an aisle and all my tools.”

His one knee laying on the ground, Dick took an even closer look at the tower. “Is that a person in the window?”

You looked down. “Yeah…”

“These are incredible.” Dick looked up at you. “I think I’d insult you if I tell you I’m surprised.”

“Well. It was your idea to focus on painting. The blames on you.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, marveling over the canvas. “This is natural talent right here.”

You wished you could bite back the smile as much as you would have liked, but at least his head was turned away.

“How much for these?”

“No. Actually,” you swallowed. “Those are just samples. I wanna make something for you from scratch. Really personalized, you know?”

“Seriously?”

You nodded. “Since you’re permanently moving back to the manor, I thought it would make a good welcome back present.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, looking over to you bashfully even when he’s most often the most confident person in the room. You smiled back, but you doubt it was as addicting to watch as his own.

“If it’s not too much trouble-“

“Not at all.”

“I’m really liking this one, though,” He pointed at the third one. One of Bludhaven. From a shot of the city he sent to you himself. Most of the time, you had to work with pictures, and the moment he sent that to you, you just knew you had to paint it. Not for him. For you.

“I’ll make you another one.”

“Y/N-“

“And you don’t have to pay-“

“That, I won't agree to.”

“Dick, it’s a present.”

“This is my way of supporting you. Artists should never do this for free.”

When he placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew there wasn’t any use arguing. He didn’t even know. He’s given you so much support no monetary value could compare to. You didn’t need money.

That, or he didn’t think this present was anything more than a favor or an item to purchase. It shouldn’t be. You knew that. And still you wanted it to be more than that.

Yeah. You were probably making a goof out of yourself if you wouldn’t submit.

This wasn’t a rejection. Telling yourself that should make you feel better.

“Thank you.”

You didn’t look into his eyes when he started walking around the room, at all the other paintings you had laid out. You had a few portraits. One of Bruce, from when he asked you to do one for him a month ago and you still hadn’t finished until now. Who knew his usual scowl was so hard to do? Then there were more landscapes of the city.

“Gotham’s your muse, huh?”

“She’s beautiful when she isn’t so full of shit,” you laughed.

One of more skyscrapers that you laid out to look like Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Another of your works in progress. “I like this one.”

You were right behind Dick as he walked around, taking closer looks at each of them. A few drawings were up on the walls.

“Is that us?”

You went over to his side. “Yeah… It’s a painting I want to do.”

A rough sketch of the whole family. Bruce standing at the top most of the manor’s grand staircase. Dick on the step below. Then Jason leaning against the railing, the only one who wasn’t smiling. Tim sitting with his knees up. Barbara looking beautiful in a bright smile on the same step as Tim. Then Steph sitting on the railway. You standing right beside Steph, arm wrapped around her. Cass with her arms crossed. Duke at the bottom . Then of course, the kid who practically owned the whole manor, little Damian on the ground, at the center with a smug grin and his arms up his chest.

Even if people were to take a second look, they’d think you were a normal, functional family.

“This,” Dick’s jaw was on the ground. “Deserves to be up in the fireplace.”

You snorted. “I haven’t even started on it yet.”

“Oh, I don’t mean the painting. This drawing alone is fantastic.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you.”

Biting his lips, he had that same simper of disbelief radiating through even more compliments you couldn’t answer to. You let it get to you. For a while.

It wasn’t exactly going to get any better.

Though your definition of better, shouldn’t be at there all.

“Y/N, I can’t thank you enough.”

You held up your hand. “You’ve been gone from home for too long. I’m just glad your back.”

He walked down to the three paintings you had out for him. “So these paintings are just samples?”

“Yeah. I wanna know which kind you prefer, since you only asked of one of the city. It can be neither of them. Just something that you actually want in your room.”

“Y/N, these are all so amazing as it is.”

“Still.”

Were you doing too much? Were you asking too much? Were you giving too much?

Most fucking probably.

But then he gave you that smile again, the one you dream about for years. One that’s driven you to do so many good things, for others and for yourself.

Your response was with a smile of your own, though it carried with it some remnant of pain from his wedding day.

“So… which one would you like?”

He looked at the paintings again.

“Bludhaven. I guess it would be nice to have some part of it in my room.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

“Trust me. Don’t feel any pressure. I can promise myself this will be the best thing ever.”

Your eyes were stuck to your feet, because if you looked up at his own, you weren’t sure what you might end up saying.

“Thank you. It means a lot. Coming from you.”

His eyebrows were up to his forehead. “Really? I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t like your work.”

Yeah. But it’s not the same when it’s coming from you, you asshat.

“I’ll uh-“ You rushed over to your sketchbooks, pulled out your pencil and went over beside Dick. He was smiling at you. “What do you think about the skyline looking like this? Like it was taken from eastern bay.”

You did a quick outline of skyscrapers and a bridge extending to one side, a lone island and clouds on top of it. He nodded. “That looks great.”

“Alright,” you looked up, saw the slight lines at the corners of his eyes and the even more miniscule details on his face that was staring back at you.

“Nice sketchbook.”

“Oh,” you grinned at it, looking over the knitted covers and the expensive looking paper that had hundreds of leaves within its spine. “Thank you. I get one of these every year.”

“You buy them yourself?”

“I don’t. They’re way too expensive.” You placed it on the table. “I get them as a gift.”

“From who?”

“I, uh...” you didn’t want to get into this. “Anyway, would you like to stay over?”

Dick shook his head. “I’d love to, but I have to get going. Some other errands to run. Sorry.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Hands fidgeting, then stopping when you realized they were fidgeting, Dick stood in front of you and beamed with his million dollar smile. You tried not to look back up at him.

“How are you, Y/N?”

You chuckled. “I’m okay.”

“We’d all love for you to come back to the manor…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Lips in your teeth, he didn’t look like he was expecting much of a response other than a bashful smile and a shake in your head.

“I mean… I’d love for you to come back to the manor.”

Eyebrows up, you stared back at him. “You would?”

“Of course. It’s been a long since we just hung out. Stop over every once in a while.”

“I, uh-“ you swallowed. “I actually do have to go there next week. Bruce is asking me to send over his pieces.”

“Cool. I’ll see you then.”

You went with him to the door, watched him put on his jacket. “I’ll call”

“Come on, don’t act like I’m some stranger, Y/N.”

It was sad, how casual it was when he pulled you with his arms. His embrace wasn’t so tight, but it was warm. Nose stuck to his shoulder and masking your other raging emotions with a light laugh, you closed your eyes and let the split second last longer than it actually did.

Yeah. You still had it bad. No matter what you seemed to do, it just wouldn’t go away.

He swayed about, patting your back. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And,” he pointed his hand at you, then scrunched it up to a fist. “Send me a list of movies you wanna watch. We’ll go through a few of them at the manor. Like we used to.”

“With everyone else?”

“Nah,” he placed his hands in his pockets. “Just us.”

He walked out the door. You closed it behind him and placed the chain lock back.

That encounter lasted ten, fifteen minutes?

It felt both longer and shorter than that. Like a thousand years and a millisecond were the same length.

You were just thankful you didn’t mess up or do anything as embarrassing as you worried it might be.

But it wasn’t as if it was new, or that the nerves and the chills and the blood rushing about was anything you weren’t already used to. Careful around him, sure. You had been since you first met him. But terrified? Nah.

You can be so used to walking around coals and fire and not be afraid of getting burned, yet still have it in you to wear something to protect your skin. Just for the sake of surviving. To get through it smoothly. So it wouldn’t hurt as much.

You slumped onto the lounge chair he didn’t take and closed your eyes. You let the hours pass. You let the clock tick away.

Then you jumped at the buzzing in your pocket. Blinking away the beginnings of a nap, you took your phone.

“Tim?”

“Y/N. You free tonight?”

Two hours had passed since Dick left.

“Yeah. What are you up to?”

“Work. I need company.”

“You sure Bruce is okay with you not going to patrol?”

“He has everyone else. Come on. I’m spending the night at the office.”

“Why me?“

“You can bring your sketchbook. ‘Sides. You haven’t been out of the house for a while.”

“The pictures you send me are good enough source material.”

“You draw a lot better when you’re seeing it with your own eyes.”

Standing from your chair and moving over to get your sketchbook and pencils, you scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know where to meet me.”

He hung up, then you scurried around to get your coat.

-----

“Ms. Y/LN.”

You nodded at the doorman, bag over your shoulder. A number of people were already rushing out of the elevators even when it had only been a minute after office hours, so you had to wait a while before an empty one came down for you.

50th floor. A few minutes of silence in the elevator, then you walked out into a dimmed-out hallway where the other employees had already deserted. The farthest end was a door, unlocked just as Tim said. You stepped inside his office and shrugged yourself off your jacket. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Tim had his reddening eyes glued to his laptop screen, not even giving you a glance up. Tapping away at the keys, you stretched out and basked in the blowing warmth, at the heater that was running at the side. Holding your hands up at the whiff of air, Tim fell to the back of his seat.

“Christ, my back.”

You snickered. “We do tend to get arthritis even when we’re barely into our twenties.”

“No. We usually don’t.”

“Not if you’re Tim Drake.” You walked over to his desk. “What are you working on?”

“Stuff that Bruce shouldn’t be asking from me in two days. A report on why and how we’ll be able to extend to the west coast, if it’s even possible.”

“Wow. Are you endorsing it?”

“I invented it.”

You brushed back the hair he hadn’t even noticed had fallen into his eyes. One of the reasons why it was almost bulging red. Your exhausted best friend took your hand away and snarled, though it wasn’t without a smirk.

“Then quit complaining. If it’s your idea, it’s your job.”

“I complained about back pains, not the work.”

You leaned back against the table and watched him type.

“Are you really spending the night here?”

“As long as I have to. Then I head back to the manor.”

“And you want me to stay?”

He stopped typing and looked up at you, eyes wide. “Please.”

“Fine.”

You settled yourself on the couch near his desk. “What have you been working on lately?” he asked.

Shrugging, your eyes were on the ceiling. “The portraits for Bruce, mostly. And the portrait of Bruce.”

“I assume that must be dreadful.”

“It’s hard painting his jaw and not give away the fact that he has Batman’s jaw.” You held your hand out. “You just need to cover his eyes and squint. And boom, his identity’s given away. Can’t do that in person but you certainly can to a painting he wants on his foyer that everybody’s gonna see.”

“I never actually thought Bruce wants that.”

“Neither did I.”

“What are his other requests?”

“One of Thomas and Martha. One of the manor.”

“The man wants a painting of the manor in the manor?”

“Yup.”

“When you have the money, I guess.”

“I know. He’s paying me five months’ worth of rent.”

Tim rubbed on the corner of his eye, his hands hovering motionless over his keyboard for a second. You looked over to him.

“You don’t have to, you know. If you just move back with us.”

“I know.”

“You sure you don’t want to? With Dick around now?”

Mouth ever so slightly curving up the side, a long breath escaped your nostrils. “I’m over him.”

“You sure about that?”

When you turned back up to the ceiling, closed your eyes while you had your arms hugging your chest, you heard him tapping on his keyboard after a few seconds of you not answering his question.

“He came over to your house today?”

“Yeah. I’m doing a piece for him.”

“What of?”

“Bludhaven. For his room.”

“Welcome back gift, ey?”

“Yeah. I hope he likes it.”

It almost seemed like he snorted at that. “He’d be stupid not to. I was also gonna ask you to do a piece for me.”

Your eyebrow raised even with your eyes closed. “Really?”

“Yeah. For my office.”

“Tim, I’m doing just fine. I’m not exactly surrounded by butlers and limos but it doesn’t mean I’m struggling.”

“Hey, don’t take it that way,” he said. “We all just love your work.”

“A bit too much, if you ask me.”

“You get better everyday. We’re appreciating it just enough. Like how you deserve to be appreciated.”

You didn’t take that to heart.

This painting all started as a way to let out the trauma, to get out of a life that had taken its toll on you the worst way it possibly could.

This was them feeling bad for you. This was a charity.

It didn’t, however, mean you were going to say no.

You hated it, but you weren’t stupid enough to refuse the cash. You liked having nice things.

“What piece would you like me to do?”

“Your call. You know what I like.”

‘Almost everything then, that’s what you wanted to say back.

A while of lounging around on the couch. A few hours, perhaps. You might have taken a nap, because your head had gone foggy and your eyes were salty when you awoke and the sky had gone completely dark.

“Tim, you should take a break.”

Was that his third cup of coffee sitting on his desk?

Again, with his hair covering his eyes, he had his one hand over his lips, eyes narrowed onto the blue screen that looked painful staring back at him so brightly. He sighed, then rubbed his eyelids with his fingers.

“Come on.” You took his jacket and threw it at him. “Take me up the balcony. Get some air.”

He looked too exhausted to speak. But after you’d gone over to his side and pushed his shoulder, he hissed and closed his laptop. “Fine, jeez.”

Tim looked like a polar bear pulled out of his iceberg when you had him off his desk. He shuffled into his coat, then you both walked out of the room and into the elevators. You held onto your sketchbook and a few pencils.

The balcony at the 70th floor. You haven’t been there for a while. You actually haven’t been in Wayne Tower the past few months at all. So when you stepped out, walked down the hall until you reached the balcony, the heights, the winds, the lights, and the stuttering noises went straight through you, gave you that static-like image that usually resonated within your senses when you sketched out Gotham City.

You sat on the marble railing, swung your legs up on the ledge and placed your sketchbook against your knees.

“You sure you wanna do that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop acting like I didn’t use to jump across rooftops.”

Tim was stifling a laugh, not sure if he should. So you pulled out an empty page and started with LexCorp a few blocks away from you. Tim went to sit next to you, then pressed his back against yours while pulling his feet up the same position. He was warm, leverage enough so your back wouldn’t end up hurting after a few minutes. He let you have your silence.

A wide balcony. Half of the page should be of it alone. Though it was just the silhouette, you traced out how the railings looked like if you were standing a few feet back.

Your head tilted to the left the way it does when you went on with your work.

You felt Tim’s back rise, then slowly soften.

“You alright back there?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“You don’t feel like it.”

“I am.” You felt his shoulder slightly brush against yours. You just shook it off then let the edge of the pencil flow lightly over what should be the sky.

A few more minutes, then a helicopter flew over your heads. When it went away, Tim’s head suddenly fell back to your shoulder.

Warmth. Like what he’s always given you. You stayed as still as you could and let the smile that was eventual and gradual creep up your lips.

“You’ll fall off if you fall asleep on me.”

“I think all that coffee’s not going to make me fall asleep for the next few days.”

Laughing, you just let him lean against you. then his head shifted so he was looking over your shoulder.

“That’s looking good.”

“You think?” You held up the notebook. “That’s us.”

Two kids sitting on the railings, with the view of the city right at their feet. Backs up against each other, shaded with the darkest black. The girl was leaning against the boy’s shoulder, quite the opposite of what was actually going on.

You felt Tim smile his mouth off. “Can I have that?”

“Hold on. Lemme finish this.”

The bat signal. Shining right at the horizon. Then you went over more of the details. The tiny lights on the windows. The helicopter that just passed by. The ocean far off.

Tim was watching you.

Not your hand. Or the drawing.

You.

A few more minutes, then you carefully ripped the page off the book. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

He folded it up, then carefully put it into his pocket. Then he placed his head against your shoulder again.

You did the same.

“I missed you.”

You laughed. “It’s not like we don’t see each other often.”

“I know. I miss seeing you everyday.”

Your head up at the sky, heart in your throat.

“Me too…”

Then you found yourself closing your eyes.

Legs dangling off the ledge on opposite sides, you both spent the next hour in silence, leaning against each other.

You and Tim on the rooftops. Just the two of you. Laughing. Sharing a drink. Doing homework even.

They were always the best times.

“Shit,” he looked at the time on his phone. “Come on. If I can finish half of it in three hours, we might actually get to go back to the manor to get some sleep.”

“Tim-“

“Just a night,” he slipped off onto the ground, then everything felt so much colder around you. “Please. Everyone’s out anyway.”

You shut your eyes.

But even when you expected yourself to decline, you ended up nodding and sliding your torso to turn back towards the building, . “Fine. But only because you’re taking me- Fuck…”

You moved too fast. You fucking moved too fast. Shit.

“Y/N, don’t move-“

Tim rushed to your legs, held his hands over the back of yours that was touching the metal where flesh and skin was supposed to be.

You tried to flinch away how you always do when someone does so much as lay a finger on you or your fucking limb when it was uncalled for, but Tim’s hands were soft and gentle. And you were also 70 stories above ground so jumping away wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Tim, I’m fine-“

“Let me help.”

“I’m fine… shit…”

Stinging nerves, all the way up your thigh when you tried to move it yourself. That’s when Tim ignored you and went ahead to hold it himself.

It was too late into the night for you to argue. So you pulled your hands away and let him slide your leg over the railing, dangling it onto the edge towards him.

“May I?”

Now facing him, both legs hanging just inches away from the ground, you placed your weight on your hands and nodded.

Tim knelt in front of you, then pulled your loose jeans up to your knee.

You felt disgusted at yourself, and you hated how he wasn’t, hands over the silver steel that replaced your skin, at the rods and wires that replaced your bones, where tiny stubs of metal stuck out in place of actual toes. You held your breath, then Tim looked up at you, hands soothing just below your knee.

He didn’t look like he pitied you. There was that.

That, or he just mastered the art of hiding his pity and instead, look at you like he was just trying to take care of you.

Which he was. You weren’t about to rob him of that credit.

Tim unlatched the bionic limb, then pulled it off of what was left of your leg. A stub of skin, where it had healed about three inches down from your knee, was burning red.

“Must have caused a bit of stress.”

You shrugged. “I’ll be fine. It happens a lot.”

Tim’s fingers over the marks of pink, you felt how gentle he was, the callous that had formed over the years, at the warmth that came with his palms rubbing over your skin. Your eyes were all on him.

Then he looked up at you, without stopping his hands.

Another set of blue eyes, quite different from the last pair you saw earlier that day. Though it must have been because of the dark, his reflected the light from the city skyline just a bit better.

Tim looked at you the same way he always did for years. It didn’t make your skin fluster, or your stomach churn.

You felt at home.  

You smiled at him, then he smiled back before he looked back down at your leg.

Tim was the only one you’d ever let do this.

After a longer while of massaging your knee, he placed the bionic leg back into place and latched it up.

“Try moving it around.”

This limb costed millions of dollars and only you had a robot leg as good as fucking Cyborg’s, and still it pained when you moved two seconds too fast. You moved your toes about, swayed your ankle. Still with a slight sting, but you could brush it off. Tim pulled your jeans back down and helped you off the railing.

He didn’t speak much on the way down back to his office, and he let you have your nap on his couch for a few more hours while he worked away.

Though, you couldn’t exactly sleep.

You weren’t sure if you were bothered, anxious, or pleased, and you hated how you still considered that last one.

It was in the way he looked at you, touched you so gently. You could tell. You could definitely tell. You told Tim years ago to promise you that he’d stop. And he said he would. Turns out he couldn’t keep that promise.

Tim still loved you.

Carefully, without him noticing, you looked back over your shoulder and watched him crouch over his laptop the way that was going to strain his back for the next three months. And you weren’t sure if you liked that it made you smile, when you took too much time watching his eyes and his lips and even his nose scrunching up like a rabbit’s.

You’d think years after you decided to be just friends, and ended up being best friends would let you both move on completely. He dated Steph for a while, even. And still, he wasn’t friends with her now the way he was with you.

It wasn’t at all awkward. It didn’t have to be.

But maybe it wasn’t for the reason you thought.

The sketchbook. The really expensive one you always used up after a few months. It costed about a hundred dollars per piece, and you get one every single year along with other art materials like charcoal pencils and canvases and paint.

And they always arrived right at your door every Valentine’s morning.

No name. No tag.

You thought it was from Bruce at first, like how he continued to spoil you with just about everything else with commissions and pieces he didn’t even need but claimed to want for his new mantle at the office or a wall in one of his condos.

But it was all too intimate and personal.

After the third year, you found out it was from him.

You could tell with how it was all wrapped and carefully arranged. Only from his hands, and how gentle they can be when he held you…

You fell asleep on that couch, clutching the sketchbook to your chest.

----

It was past five in the morning when Tim finally stood up from his desk. You were well into your sleep, then you felt his hand on your shoulder, shrugging you awake.

“Huh?”

“Come on. Let’s get some sleep at the manor.”

Groaning into the couch’s fabric, Tim took fifteen minutes pulling you to stand until he finally got you on your feet. He helped you with your coat, then on the taxi home you fell asleep on his shoulder, and he fell asleep with his cheek on your head.

You got to the manor, stretched out, then just as the sun had fully greeted you, you both walked into the foyer. Alfred was still freshly awoken.

“Master Tim, where on earth have you been?”

“The office.”

“The off- never mind. Miss Y/N, I’m happy to see you.”

“Hey Alfred,” you yawned and gave the butler a hug.

“Will you be sleeping in your room?”

“Yes please.”

He nodded, then you and Tim walked over to the steps.

“Wait.” You backed away. “I want water. You go ahead.”

The zombie that was Tim Drake didn’t even turn his head to you as he lugged himself up the stairs. You dragged your feet to the kitchen, stretching out your arms. It was way too fucking early for this.

You reached into the fridge and grabbed the ice-cold pitcher of water, held up an empty glass, then poured it in.

You brought the glass up to your lips.

You closed the fridge door.

Then felt the freezing cold surge up your nose, your eyes pop open from the crust and saltiness that had formed over your eyelids, then your throat started to close up and you coughed the water out of your hacking mouth.

“J-Jason?”

A towel covered his face when he first walked in, which meant his arm was up and his muscles were flexing when his bulked up bare chest was practically screaming into your eyes. Eight pack abs. Pecs stronger than steel. Ripples on his sides. And his fucking arms that could tear apart a block of wood in one pull.

It was too much of a convenience that he was rubbing the sweat off his hair so much that he couldn’t see you with your jaw on the ground. Every muscle in your body tightened, screamed, then just as Jason looked up at you, drenched hair flopping onto his eyes, you immediately looked away and pretended your own throat wasn’t choking you right then.

He walked towards you. Fuck.

“Hey, pretty bird.”

That low, husky voice…

You nodded. “H-hey,” you choked. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, then you opened the fridge once again to pour in even more water.

“I came with Tim. I was with him in the office.”

“Oh,” he leaned against the counter right beside you, and all your eyes that were fucking defying you right then could look at were the veins popping out of his biceps.

“Why are you here?”

He pouted. “I always train this early.”

“You come here all the way from your apartment at five in the morning?”

“Since a few days ago, yeah.”

“Why?”

He scoffed. “No gym on earth has Bruce’s equipment.”

“Ah.” You went through the whole glass again. The sweat was starting to pour down his chest.

Placing it onto the kitchen counter just inches away from Jason’s body, you were practically floating out of the kitchen. As fast as you could. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Bye, pretty bird.”

Up the stairs. Into your old room. Away from anyone else.

You fell to your bed, but you couldn’t sleep a single wink.

And you weren’t even sure why.

Or who.

-----

 MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

@everyartistwas-firstanamateur, @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @damned-queen-of-gotham, @idkmanicantenglish, @wunderstell, @birdy-bat-writes, @get-loki, @everyday-imfangirling, @comic-nerd-dc, @multifandomgirl-us, @multifandoms916, @icequeen208, @offendedfishnoises, @egdolan, @xemiefx, @arkhamtoddler, @elsenthal, @mythicbitchx, @lucy-roo, @roseangel013bf, @loxbbg​, @reclusive-chicken-nugget​, @l-inkage​, @http-cherries​, @shadowsndaisies​, @river9noble​, @zphilophobiaz​, @annoylinglyaries​, @knightfall05x​, @hyp-oh-critical​, @satan-s-ass​, @1-800-starmora​,  @flowersgirl02, @nahcho​

SERIES TAGLIST: 

@spaceservicestation​

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #batfam #batfamily #robins #dc comics #reader insert #batboys x reader #nightwing #red hood #red robin #3 birds 1 stone #3 birds 1 stone series #batarella #batarella series

[bitch-for-bo]

Till Morning (Kageyama Tobio x chubby reader)

POST TIME SKIP

You've been neglecting your needy trophy boyfriend for nearly two weeks. Kageyama was frustrated and beginning to think you were getting tired of him. You'll just have to convince him otherwise.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED

It had always been volleyball that mattered the most to Kageyama. It was always the one thing that he put all of his effort into, all of his heart. He’d known from the moment that he first picked up a volleyball that that was what he wanted to do with his life, there had never been a shadow of a doubt when it came to his devotion to the game.

He couldn’t remember when everything had changed.

Yes, he still loved volleyball, but it was no longer the thing he loved most in life. It wasn’t even how he would choose to spend his free time anymore.

And while Kageyama couldn’t explain when everything had changed, he knew exactly why it had changed.

It was the same reason that Kageyama was having trouble staying concentrated in practice, it was the same reason that he was getting scolded for dropping sets and making simple mistakes, and it was the reason that Hinata eventually approached you and asked you if there was anything you could do about it.

You had a very busy schedule, you were in the residency stage of your medical degree so you didn’t have a lot of free time. Kageyama was practically your house-wife, your little trophy boyfriend. He did the cooking and the cleaning while you went out and saved lives (at least according to him).

It wasn’t like Kageyama didn’t make money playing volleyball, and it wasn’t like you forced him to take care of the housework for you. That’s what made him the perfect boyfriend, he was completely willing to do it, willing even, if it meant you praised him for it.

You remembered being surprised the first time that you had slept with Kageyama. You were a junior in college when you’d met him at one of his Adler’s games that one of your exes made you go to, your ex’s brother was on the team so you ended up having to meet all of the players.

As soon as Kageyama had set his eyes on you he couldn’t take them off. You remembered feeling the setter’s intense gaze and honestly being kinda scared. He wasn’t the most friendly-looking man ever, especially when he was dripping in sweat and exhausted from playing a game. But as soon as you introduced yourself and watched a cherry red blush take over his face, you knew that in reality, he was just an awkward shy volleyball player, that you just happened to be very attracted to.

So attracted to, that after you and your ex broke up, you attended another Adler’s game just to ask the black-haired setter on a date. Kageyama was surprised, to say the least. A beautiful girl asking HIM on a date?

Kageyama had been approached by women plenty of times, asking him for his number or to go out, he’d never given them the time of day. He was completely focused on volleyball, and while that had proven to be a good thing for his career, it made it to where he was completely inexperienced with women.

He almost said no, purely from the embarrassment of not knowing how to date, but as soon as you looked up at him with your wide, beautiful eyes and your inviting smile, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

He couldn’t believe that someone as beautiful as you had approached him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had a crush on you ever since his teammate’s brother had brought you to that first game. Ever since then, he’d ashamedly watched you from afar. He’d find himself sneaking glances at you in the stands when he was on the bench, or watching you as you talked with the team afterward. There was just something about your chubby form that drew him in, whether it was the way that you wore slightly too-short skirts to every match or the way that your breasts would squeeze together when you cupped your hands to your mouth to cheer, he couldn’t get you off of his mind, even though you already had a boyfriend.

Kageyama remembered when his teammate had told him that you had broken up with his brother. It was right after Kageyama had asked the teammate where you were, he’d told him that the two of you had split and he hadn’t seen you since.

Kageyama could still remember the utter disappointment he’d felt when he realized that he might never see you again.

But apparently, he’d made an impression on you as well, because one game, he looked up into the stand to find your beautiful figure amongst the crowd, you looked like an angel. He almost fainted when you approached him after the game, your short skirt swishing, revealing just enough of your thigh to give him a glance of the tops of your thigh-highs, where your skin was puffing out. All he could think about was how much he wanted to take you home, to fuck you in nothing but those thigh highs, to have you ride him until he was sore. By the time that he realized just what he was thinking, it was too late. He was already blushing like crazy, making you giggle as you took him by the arm and pulled him away from the rest of the team, and then proceed to ask him out.

Fortunately, a couple of hours turned into a couple of dates, that turned into a couple of months, and before you knew it, you and Kageyama had been dating for nearly two years.

You had been a lot of firsts for Kageyama so of course he was attached to you, but even he didn’t expect to fall this hard in love. He just couldn’t help it, you were God’s gift to him, you were his angel. Every day he thanked God that you were in his life, every day, as he tended to the house or cooked your meals he thought about how lucky he was. His teammates teased him about it, claiming that he should ‘man up’, or that they didn’t know how he could survive seeing as he didn’t ‘wear the pants’ in the relationship.

Kageyama didn’t care though, they could say whatever they wanted. He knew that they were only jealous of what he had. He knew that if given the chance, any of them would kill to take his place.

Don’t think he didn’t notice all of them staring at you when you came to pick him up from practice, don’t think he didn’t notice how their hungry gazes stuck to you like glue. When that happened, he knew deep down that he should be jealous or possessive, but all he could feel was pride. The pride that he was the one to love you, to go home with you. He was the one who got to hold you every night, who got to sink his cock into you, the one who got to please you.  

Kageyama had always been kind of a control freak, but for some reason, when he was around you, he felt only the desire to submit. And that was fine with you, in fact, you preferred to be the one in control. There was nothing more beautiful to you than the sight of your setter boyfriend with tears on his cheeks as you rode him into overstimulation. Or the sight of him with his wrists tied to the bed frame as you sucked him off.

That being said, it’d been far too long since you’d had Kageyama. In fact, it’d been almost two weeks and you were fairly confident that it was the reason behind Kageyama’s poor performance in practice.

As soon as Hinata had come to you about Kageyama’s focus problems, you had been overwhelmed with guilt. Yes, you had been very busy but that was no excuse for neglecting your boyfriend. You’d been too swamped with work to notice how his hands lingered around your waist in the morning when you hugged him goodbye or the way his face was almost always lit up in a blush. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t noticed, and god knows that Kageyama would never straight up ask for sex. He wasn’t good at asking for things that he wanted, you would have to fix that.

You sighed as you lounged in the living room, waiting for the setter to get home from practice so you could confront him and apologize. You’d neglected him for almost two weeks, tonight would be all about him and his pleasure.

You glanced at the wall clock, Kageyama should be home by now, of course, it wasn’t like he knew you were waiting. He thought that you had a long shift at the hospital today, he didn’t know that you took the day off to pamper him.

You’d asked for the day off whenever Hinata had told you that he was concerned about Kageyama’s volleyball skills, telling you all about how Kageyama had been dropping sets and missing serves way too much to blame on chance. You’d stocked the freezer with his favorite ice cream and you’d cooked his favorite meal.

Despite popular belief amongst both you and Kageyamas’ friends, you were actually a really good cook. The only reason you did it so litter was because you had a loving boyfriend who lived to please you.

You heard the door open and Kageyama enter the apartment, the sound of his footsteps slow, telling you that he hadn’t had a great day. You sat patiently, eager to see your boyfriend, eager to spoil him.

A bad day was an understatement for Kageyama. This was the third time this week that he’d been held behind practice by the coaches and scolded for his negligence. It was getting embarrassing, but he just couldn’t seem to focus.

He didn’t know exactly why, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was because of how little he’d seen you recently. He was always at practice in the mornings and you were always at your shift in the evenings, the only time the two of you were able to talk was when Kageyama stayed up super late to greet you when you came home from work, and even when he did that, the both of you were so tired that you could barely hold a conversation, and especially too tired to do anything.

This had led to an extreme build-up of sexual frustration in Kageyama. He tried to relieve himself alone, not wanting to bother you with his struggles, but you’d conditions his body to the point that it was nearly impossible for him to get off alone, and when he did, it paled in comparison to actually being buried in you.

That’s why he’d been so distracted at practice. Every time he’d set or go back to serve, images of your body would flash into his mind, your thighs, your breasts, and he’d flub the ball. It’d drop right in front of him and everyone would sigh in disappointment but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All he could think about was you, and he wondered if you were feeling the same way.

On the nights that he lay alone in bed, he wondered if you actually had time to miss him as he missed you. He knew that you were constantly busy at the hospital, so did you have any time to think about him? And as soon as he started thinking about that, doubt would start to creep in. He would convince himself that he didn’t deserve you, that you were only staying together with him out of pity. You were so great, too good for him. What could he give you?

All of these self-destructive thoughts had been brewing for the last two weeks and had led to Kageyama looking like a total wreck as he walked into the seemingly empty apartment.

“Hey Baby…” You greeted, standing from your seat and walking over to hug a surprised-looking Kageyama.

“W-what are you doing home?” he asked, his heart practically busting out of his chest with the excitement of seeing you home.

“What? Were you looking forward to a quiet night without me?” You teased, grinning as your boyfriend’s face flushed and he sputtered out a denial. You wrapped your arms around Kageyama’s waist, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“I’m really happy you’re home,” Kageyama whispered against the top of your head as he rested his face against your hair.

Your heart squeezed with guilt as you heard the emotion in his voice. You couldn’t believe that you’d neglected him for this long.

“I missed you.” You mumbled into his chest, causing his arms to only tighten around you.

After another minute or two of enjoying Kageyama’s strong embrace, you leaned away and nodded towards the kitchen.

“I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorites.” you beamed, excitedly leading him by the arm to the table where a large spread of food graced the table.

Kageyama had no words for how happy he felt. As soon as he’d saw you, it felt like all of the stress of being lectured at practice just melted away. For some reason, he couldn’t stop smiling. How could he love you this much? So much that it hurt?

*******************

“Use your words, baby…” you cooed, Kageyama’s body arching beneath you as you continued to play with his nipples, drawing small gasps and pleads out of him as you rubbed your pussy against his throbbing cock.

The two of you’d had a nice dinner before you’d asked Kageyama to open up to you about how he’d been feeling and before you knew it your boyfriend was on the edge of tears, mumbling about how he’d understand if you chose to break up with him.

Saying that you felt terrible would be an understatement. You didn’t realize just how much you’d been neglecting his feelings.

Never again, you swore as you stared down at your boyfriend. His dark hair was already tussled and messy, and you were just getting started with him.

“ p-please… .” Kageyama moaned, his fingers digging into your soft sides as his hips uncontrollably ground up into you.

“ Mmmm ” you hummed in approval, your hips drawing circles as you admired the pitiful, desperate expression on Kageyama’s face.

You leaned down and took his lips in a kiss, your fingers coming up from his chest to gentle press against the column of his neck, causing his body to arch again and his eyes cloud over with want.

“ So pretty for me like this… ” you breathed, your hand tightening in the slightest, making Yama’s mouth pop open, allowing you to gently push your tongue against his.

Kageyama felt like his body was on fire. The feeling of your fingers against his throat, the warmth of your pussy against him, it was almost too much. But he would never admit that, he would never tell you to stop, not when you could make him feel like this.

God, you were perfect. He didn’t realize just how much he missed you these last few weeks, it wasn’t even just your body that he missed, he missed seeing your smile, he missed greeting you at the door when you got home, he missed making you dinner, he missed your praises, he missed you .

You noticed that Kageyama had begun to space out so you stopped moving completely, making his eyes snap back towards you in focus.

“Why?” he breathed- almost whined out. You smiled down at him as he tried not to squirm with need. You knew that he tended to get caught up in his feelings during sex, tended to overthink things, but tonight you needed to show him that you were all his, that you would never get tired of him.

“Oh,” you said, feigning surprise, “You looked bored, so I thought I’d stop.”

His eyes got wide and his face reddened in panic.

“N-No!” He gasped, his fingers still on your hips, afraid to urge you onto his cock in fear that you’d withdraw and punish him for being impatient.

“ Please… ” he whispered, his fingers tightening into the soft spots of your sides, “.. want you… ”

You laughed at the desperate expression on his face, pulling a moan from his throat as you resumed grinding against him.

“ Awww… you like that baby… you wanna fuck me, baby??”

“ Mhmm ” Kageyama whined, nodding and tossing his head to the side, hiding his face in the sheets.

“Ah ah ah ” you tutted, “Use your words, princess.”

Kageyama turned his face towards you, you gasped at the expression on his face. He was blissed out, there were tears in his eyes and a dark blush permanently fixated on his normally serious-looking face. You could tell that he was close to losing it with the way that his lips were parted as he panted for air, it was clear that the only thing on his mind was you. Just the way you liked it.

“ P-please …” he begged, his eyes not able to meet yours.

“Please what baby?” you asked gently, deciding not to tease him seeing how disheveled he was.

“Want to be inside you.” he barely audibly whispered, his head once again hiding in the sheets as soon as he admitted just how much he wanted you.

You moaned lightly, your hand leaving his neck to gently brush the hair out of his face. You took his chin in your hands, guiding his face to look at you.

“Such good manners for me Princess.” you sighed, your mouth finding his again as your fingers resume playing with his nipples, teasing the sensitive buds until he was pathetically rutting up against your cunt, his whines telling you that he couldn’t wait much longer.

“Are you ready baby?” you asked, one of your hands snaking beneath you and wrapping around Kageyama’s leaking cock.

“ mm-hmm… ” he groaned, nodding as you turned your wrist to stroke him a couple of times, making sure that his cock was ready to fuck you.

You decided that you’d teased him enough, you guided him to your entrance, readjusting yourself against his hips as you slowly sank down onto him.

“ Fuck… ” you moaned, you’d almost forgotten just how well Kageyama filled you up, his size was definitely nothing to scoff at seeing as you could practically feel him in your throat as you settled him balls deep into your cunt.

Kageyama’s eyes were pinched closed, it was the only thing that was preventing him from cumming as soon as he felt your soft walls around him. He knew that if he opened his eyes and saw your gorgeous body floating over him, sitting on his cock, there would be no way in hell that he’d be able to keep it together and while he desperately wanted to cum, desperately needed to cum, he would always put your pleasure above his. He knew that you’d want him to wait for permission to cum, so that’s what he’d do, no matter how hard it was.

“You’re so good for me... -fuck” you gasped.

You pressed your hands against Kageyama’s chest and brought yourself up almost completely before sinking back down again. You wanted to take this slow, you wanted it to last all night so that you could show Kageyama just how much you loved him but as soon as you looked down at your boyfriend, all plans of taking your time flew out the window.

The sight of Kageyama laying underneath you was unholy. His hair was tussled and his eyes were teary as his mouth let out strings of moans and pleads for you to fuck him harder. How could you deny him?

Kageyama almost fainted when your pace quickened, transitioning from slowly grinding on his cock, making him crazy with each languid pull, to bouncing up and down on it like you were riding one of those electric bulls that you found at bars.

He could feel his body burning up with lust as your eyes and hands attacked his senses from all directions. Your eyes were locked on his, pulling him into a blissfully familiar headspace while your hands were seemingly everywhere on his body, toying with his nipples, raking down his abs, gripping his shoulders, you were everywhere.

He could only imagine what he’d look like in the mirror tomorrow. His whole body was no doubt covered in bruises and scratches that his teammates would mercilessly mock him for. But their words would mean nothing to him. After all, it was only him that knew just how heavenly it felt to be balls deep in your precious cunt. He was the only one that could make you put your career on hold to take care of him. So they could make fun of him all they wanted, because, after a long day of practice, it was him to got to come home and worship your pussy, to pump you full of his cum. They fucking wished they led the life that he did.

You grinned as you watched Kageyama go into his little subspace as you fucked yourself down onto his thick cock. You knew that this position was the fastest way to get him into that headspace, but you also knew that it was nearly his favorite position.

“Wha- why’d you stop ?” Kageyama breathed, his hips trying to buck back up into you until you pinned him down with your thighs, immobilizing his needy movements.

“I’m tired Baby…” you whined, feigning fatigue, “why don’t you be a good boy and make me feel good too? Can you do that?” You asked, smiling gently down at your boyfriend as he eagerly nodded.

Without a word, Kageyama’s hands gripped your hips and flipped you over, switching places with you while effectively not taking his cock out of you.

“‘Yama- fuck!” you gasped, your hands shooting out to grip onto his biceps as he began to helplessly thrusting into you.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. He had one goal and one goal only, to make you feel good. He couldn’t control his moans, the way that your soaked pussy squelched and hugged him from this new angle made him want to burst, but he knew that he had to make you cum before he could so he devoted his whole energy to pounding into your g-spot, making you see stars as tears sprang to your eyes.

You didn’t beg often, but the way that Kageyama was fucking into you was surreal. It felt so good, he was hitting every good spot inside of you, not to mention how his hot little moans sounded in your ear as he panted against you, his lips fervently pressing and licking against your neck, trying to leave his own marks on you to tell the world that he was the only one allowed to make you feel like this.

“‘Yama… .” you cried, your face pressing into his neck, your teeth latching onto the pale skin making his hips stutter against you. “...’ Yama… touch my clit...please…”

Kageyama almost cried, he was so close and he knew you were too with the way that your pussy was clenched around him. His fingers shot down to your clit, taking it and gently rolling it like you’d done to his nipples, making your stomach burn as your orgasm started to build.

“F-fuck…” Kageyama stuttered, his whiny moans getting drowned in the swell of your breasts as he buried his face between your tits while his hips began to thrust into you recklessly. He tried to control himself for as long as he could, but by now he couldn’t slow his hips any longer. He needed to cum, and he needed to make you cum.

“ G-gonna cum …” he moaned, his pace beginning to falter as you clenched around him even tighter.

“Wait for me baby… ‘m close …” you insisted, lacing your fingers in his hair and pushing his face further against your tits, loving the feeling of his hot tongue lapping against your pearled nipples.

You could feel the rubber band in your stomach tightening as Kageyama completely gave himself to you, his mouth fixed on your tits, his fingers massaging your clit, and his cock still pistoning in and out of you.

“ Fuuuccckkk….. I’m gonna cum baby …” you cried, pulling his face up to yours and swallowing his mouth in a searing kiss.

Kageyama felt your pussy start to spasm as you came around his cock, your juices flooding out around him and soaking his balls.

“ P-please …” he whimpered, his hips still helplessly rutting into you, desperate for release.

“Such a good boy,” you moaned, “.. .cum for me baby.. ”

Kageyama groaned as his cock burst, your tight, spasming cunt milking him for all he was worth. It felt like you were almost pulling his entire life force out with how well you sucked all of his cum into you as your cum dripped down the back of his balls and onto the bedsheets.

He fell against you, thoroughly fucked out, whimpering thank-you’s and i-love-you’s as you gently caressed his hair and whispered praises in his ears.

You could feel him falling asleep against you, his softening cock still buried in your pussy.

“Shhh… no no no baby..” you said, lightly stopping him when he tried to pull out of you. You knew how much he loved to stay in you, to feel you around him and he was so good for you tonight that you decided that he deserved to stay in you as long as he wanted. Plus, it felt heavenly having his hot fat cock pressing against your g-spot without any intention of moving.

“I want you to stay in me tonight ‘Yama…” you whispered, your eyes looking up at him as if to beg him to stay.

That was all Kageyama needed to hear before nestling his head into your neck. He couldn’t believe how well you treated him, how loved he felt.

You felt him hardening.

“Ah-ah, don’t get horny baby… you’re not allowed to fuck me until morning ok?” you said, taking Kageyama’s arms and wrapping them around your body, keening at the feeling of being spooned and stuffed by your boyfriend.

Kageyama whined quietly into your neck, how was he going to get through the night when you felt so good? Could he make it to the morning? He looked down at you to beg for you to allow him otherwise just to find you already asleep.

He stared down at you… you looked like an angel… it was almost scary how devilish you could act whenever you looked this ethereal sleeping. He sighed, trying to convince himself that he could do this, that the feeling of his cock inside of you was worth practically dying with need as he waited for the morning.

Just as Kageyama was about to fall asleep, he felt you move, waking him up completely and causing the erection that he just got to calm down, to flare right back up. He groaned in a delicious frustration.

How was he going to make it to morning?

Little did he know, you just wanted to tease him a little bit, you had no intention of waiting for morning.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuuxreader #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuu 18+ #kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama smut

[red-jaebyrd]

Whatever It Takes

Summary: Dick Grayson wasn’t all smiles and hugs when he came to live with Bruce Wayne. He was an angry little boy grieving his parents and mistrustful of all the adults around him.

Bruce Wayne was an overwhelmed inexperienced 25 year old completely unqualified to care for a traumatized 8 year old. But with Alfred’s help, Bruce will do whatever it takes to help bring back the smiling boy he met at the circus. 

After just a month of staying at the Manor, Dick Grayson was still a noticeably quiet, withdrawn child with interspersed bouts of anger. He mostly kept to himself in his room and didn’t say more than two or three words to Alfred. However, recently any chance encounter he had with Bruce, Dick just glared and answered questions addressed to him in clipped tones.

“Well…,” Bruce said, still seated in his chair, watching Dick rush out of the dining room. “...that was new.”

“Whatever do you mean, Sir?” Alfred answered, taking Dick’s half empty plate and setting it on the serving trolley.

“I’ve never seen him like this before," Bruce stated, wiping his mouth with his napkin and placing it on his plate. “He so…” But his words were cut off by the harsh sound of a slamming door. ”...angry,”

“You don’t see him at all. Have you spent any time with the lad since he’s been here?” Alfred asked, collecting  Bruce’s plate and cutlery, before placing it on the serving trolley.

Aside from the first week Bruce had brought Dick to the Manor, they had only shared a handful of meals together. After that, Bruce devoted all his time either on patrol trying to find Zucco or in the Cave pouring over evidence to bring Zucco to justice.

“No, I’ve been so swamped I haven’t been able to,” Bruce signed, sagging his shoulders. “I’ve been busy with his parents’ case, gathering evidence and intel that will lead me to Zucco. I’m so close, Alfred.”

“An admirable feat, Master Bruce, but I think you need to reprioritize your duties as Batman and Bruce Wayne,” Alfred advised, placing the water glasses last on the trolley. “Or we shall forever lose that sweet boy to anger and grief.”

“You’re right,” Bruce nodded, as Alfred wheeled the serving trolley to the kitchen. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Continue on Ao3

“He won’t answer me or come out of his room,” Bruce whined, coming into the kitchen after a failed attempt at trying to talk to Dick. He slumped into a chair at the kitchen island and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I left his dessert outside his door. He really is mad at me.”

“Perhaps the young Master is also having a bad day and you are the unfortunate target for his anger,” Alfred reasoned, retrieving a mug from the cupboard, pouring coffee into it and setting it in front of Bruce. “I do recall a certain 8 year old who lived in this house some time ago who was also prone to bad days. If I do recall they involved much yelling and slamming of doors.”

“I was a handful,” Bruce sighed, cupping the mug with both hands. “I don’t know how you put up with me.”

“I didn’t put up with you, Sir. You were a grieving 8 year old.”

“Has he talked much about his parents with you?” Bruce asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

“He doesn’t say much at all, to be honest,” Alfred answered, placing the dishtowel over his shoulder. “The only consistent phrases he has said to me since he has been here are, ‘thank you’ and ‘may I please be excused’.

Bruce nodded his head taking in the new information. It was a heartbreaking contrast to the first time he met Dick.

“You should have seen him that night at the circus, Alfred,” Bruce smiled fondly. “I’ve never seen so much joy and excitement contained in such a tiny body. He bounced with every step he took, skipped instead of walked,” Bruce chuckled, recalling the memory. “When I finally got to meet him and his parents, he talked so fast his mom had to tell him to take a breath. He kept trying to tell me a joke, but he kept laughing in the middle of it.”

It pained Bruce to talk about Dick in a past tense, as the boy Dick was now, was not the boy he had met a month ago. Bruce shook his head.

“I don’t want him to end up like me,” Bruce whispered under his breath. He then looked up in time to see Alfred as his shoulders sagged, his focus now on the drying another plate.

“Oh shit, Al, I – I didn’t mean that as a slight on you. I’m sorry,” Bruce stammered his apology. He really was messing things up tonight.

“I didn’t take it as such, Sir. No need to apologize,” Alfred reassured, turning to face Bruce while drying another plate. “Perhaps I allowed the limits of my station and the influence of my upbringing to not permit me the freedom to help you grieve properly.”

“You did what I allowed you to do,” Bruce responded, taking another drink of his coffee. “I wasn’t the easiest kid.”

“You were a very headstrong child,” Alfred smiled, placing the dried plate in the cupboard, and turned back to face Bruce. “But you, Sir, have an advantage that I did not. You are not the boy’s butler – you are his foster father, and with that title comes different responsibilities and expectations.”

Bruce nodded. He was only 25 years old and taking in a traumatized 8 year old was a rash and impulsive decision influenced by survivor’s guilt and righteous anger. But it was mostly driven by the failure of a corrupt system that had let an innocent boy fall through the cracks and into an unsafe environment.

But Bruce was helping Dick, wasn’t he? He was hunting down the asshole that killed Dick’s parents – devoting every hour and resource he had to bring the bastard to justice. Not to mention he got Dick out of that horrible “Youth Center” before that place did any permanent damage to the boy.

Did he really “save” Dick in the end? Sure, Bruce had removed him from an unsafe situation, but really all he did was change Dick’s environment from being terrorized at a youth center, to being isolated at a Manor.

Bruce had no choice but to bring Dick to the Manor; and it was the right decision even if Bruce wasn’t the most qualified. Still he had his doubts now that it was obvious his “parenting skills” were lacking.

“I did the right thing though, didn’t I – bringing him here?” Bruce asked, desperation in his tone. He wrapped his hands tightly around the now empty cup.

“Absolutely, the Gotham City Youth center was not doing him any favors,” Alfred answered, gingerly taking the mug from Bruce’s hands. “But I feel you need to show him that you want him here and that he now belongs here with you.”

“I just hope I can fix the damage I’ve already done,” Bruce uttered, scrubbing his face harshly with hands. “I feel like I’ve already messed him up.”

“The worry of every parent, I assure you,” Alfred stated, washing Bruce’s mug.

“I’m not his dad, Alfred.”

“No, but you are his guardian, and I can say with confidence I certainly had no idea what I was doing.”

“You did alright, old friend,” Bruce smiled, looking at his watch. He had a few hours until he had to go on patrol. It was already looking like a short night.

“Not enough to stop you from dressing like a bat and endangering yourself every night,” Alfred remarked, rinsing the mug over the sink.

“You did alright,” Bruce repeated, clapping Alfred on the shoulder. “I’m going down to the Cave to change. I’ll make it a short night, so I can have breakfast with Dick in the morning and take him to school.”

“If you say so, sir,” Alfred smiled, wiping down the kitchen counters. “I shall be down in a few.”

Bruce walked down the hall on his way to the study and passed Dick’s bedroom. There outside the door was an empty dessert cup. He didn’t attempt to talk to Dick again that night. He would try again tomorrow and hopefully things would start to get better between them.

 Bruce couldn’t blame Dick for his actions, especially the way he now responded to Bruce. Bruce hadn’t given him any reason to trust him. In his misguided attempt to help bring closure for Dick, Bruce had further distanced himself from him at a time where the boy needed the guidance and attention from someone who had been exactly in his situation. Instead, Bruce had left Dick to his own devices in a huge house with only a butler for company.

Dick wasn’t a difficult child by nature. Bruce could see that in the brief interaction he had with him and his parents before the show. He was an incredibly happy, always smiling, talkative little boy. The boy was literal sunshine bouncing around his parents excited to be performing in front of hundreds of people.

Bruce missed the smiling boy he had met at the circus.

The next morning Bruce woke up early in time to have breakfast with Dick. Bruce hoped that this morning would be a more pleasant experience than the glares and short answers he got from Dick at dinner.

No such luck as Bruce caught sight of the permanent scowl that graced Dick’s face as he settled into a chair.

“Good morning, Dick. Did you sleep well?” Bruce asked, folding his newspaper and placing it on the table.

“Fine,” Dick quietly replied, taking a sip of his orange juice. He kept his eyes fixed in front of him pouring the small pitcher of milk into his cereal.

“I thought…,” Bruce cleared his throat. “I thought I’d give Alfred a break this morning and take you to school. Sound good?”

“Whatever,” Dick answered flatly, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Bruce opened his mouth to say something else, but instead took the hint and stopped talking. The rest of breakfast was quiet except for the sound of chewing and the rustling of Bruce’s newspaper. The car ride to school was silent as well.

“Um, I’ll be here at 2:35pm to pick you up. Okay, bud?”

“Okay,” Dick responded, keeping his eyes on his backpack as he hoisted the straps onto his thin shoulders. “Bye.”

Well at least he said ‘bye’ and didn’t slam the car door shut, that was more than Bruce was expecting much less deserved. However small it was still progress. Bruce just hoped he didn’t mess this up.

All day at work Bruce couldn’t focus. He kept getting distracted strategizing ways in which to balance his life as Batman, Bruce, and as Dick’s guardian. He zoned out during the budget meeting, so Lucius had to take over as usual.

The mid-morning bled into the afternoon and before Bruce knew it, it was time to pick up Dick from school.

“Where are you going Mr Wayne? You have another meeting with the shareholders in an hour,” Marcie said, reading from her computer.

“Not today, I told Lucius that starting today I’ll be picking Dick up from school on Mondays, Wednesdays, and every other Friday. Bye, see you on Monday.”

It felt good to make those changes and set those boundaries with his co-workers. Bruce had meant to change his schedule ages ago, but time had slipped away from him and now that Bruce Wayne had a foster son to look after, it made sense to change his hours to accommodate his role as a Foster Father.

“Hey, chum, how was school?”

“Fine,” Dick answered, in his usual low flat voice. He threw his backpack in the backseat before getting into the car.

Bruce watched him buckle in and then cross his arms looking out the window.

“Anything interesting happen at school today?” Bruce asked, and then internally cringed at his idiocy in asking ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions to a boy who only responded in one-word answers.

“No,” Dick replied, still looking out the window.

Bruce needed to rethink how he asked questions. This wasn’t a new skill for him. He knew how to question victims and interrogate suspects; with Dick he needed to ask questions that were open, or maybe the car was the wrong place to have a conversation.

“What did you draw today in art class?” Bruce probed, hoping this question would elicit a better answer.

“We didn’t have art class today,” Dick responded, directing his focus briefly to Bruce, his brow furrowed. He then went back to gazing out the window. “We had P.E.”

“Oh yeah, what did you do?”

“We ran laps. I got bored so I started doing cartwheels instead. I almost got in trouble, but Mrs Havilland asked me to show some of the kids in my class how to do a cartwheel.

“Did you have fun teaching them?” Bruce asked, hoping his questions would keep the conversation going. It didn’t look like it, Dick’s scowl returned.

“She wouldn’t let me do an aerial. ‘Too risky’,” Dick answered, the last two words were high pitched and said in a mocking tone. He kept his head down running his hands along the leather seat of the car.

“Sorry about that, bud.”

“I miss doing aerials,” Dick said sadly, looking out the window again. “Have you ever done an aerial?”

“I can’t say that I have ever been in a position where I’ve had to do one,” Bruce chuckled.

“I can show you if – if you want,” Dick offered, looking at Bruce instead of out the window.

“I’d like that, very much,” Bruce answered, as he looked in the rearview mirror to meet Dick’s eyes.  And to Bruce’s delight, the corners of Dick’s mouth turned up ever so slightly before he returned his gaze to the window. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it wasn’t a scowl either. 

The rest of the ride home was in companionable silence.

“I thought we could have pizza for dinner and then watch a movie in the media room,” Bruce suggested, parking the car in garage. He hoped he wasn’t coming on too strong.

“Won’t Alfred get mad?” Dick asked, getting his backpack out of the car and slinging a strap over one shoulder.

“No, I’m sure he’d like a night off. He might even join us. What do you say?”

“Can – can I pick the movie?” Dick asked, keeping his head down as he walked with Bruce.

“Oh course,” Bruce said, unlocking the door that led into the house.

“Can I have pepperoni on my pizza too?”

“You bet,” Bruce answered, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder leading him into the house. “Anything special to drink?”

“Strawberry soda,” Dick answered, pushing past Bruce and setting his backpack on the hook in the mudroom.

Pizza and movie night was actually the best idea Bruce could have come up with on the fly. Dick genuinely looked like he was enjoying himself in Bruce’s company. But one night of pizza and a movie was not going to fix a month of neglect and unhappiness.

Bruce knew that if he was going to help bring back the smiling, happy boy from the circus he would have to give the boy a reason to trust him. Bruce would need to be a person the boy could count on to ground him and keep him from drifting into a sea of sorrow and anger. Dick was too special to be consumed by grief and Bruce was too stubborn to allow it to happen.

#bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #batman #batman fanfiction #Young Dick Grayson #grieving dead parents #bruce is a clueless parent/guardian #he's trying and failing miserably #thank god for Alfred #dick grayson needs a hug #hurt/comfort #dick grayson is not okay #my fics #robin #nightwing #DC