#taking a two week drawing break was such a bad idea

[scuderiahoney]

Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 4

Summary: a very bad snowstorm, bears in the ice hockey arena, and a one night only poster board pick-me-up. 6.6k words

Warnings: mentions of physical violence, small mention of alcohol

“So. You and Oscar spent a lot of time together over the break,” Lily says, carefully.

You roll your eyes and set the glue stick in your hand down, sensing this is going to be a long conversation. “We were the only ones here for like, a week. And we were bored. And then Max showed up, so it wasn’t just us.”

Lily isn’t looking at you. She has a wine glass in one hand and a magazine in the other. The two of you are making vision boards, which Max had called “glorified collages” when he called five minutes ago to ask about family dinner for tomorrow.

Lily hums. “He’s just so… quiet.”

You shrug and take a sip of your wine. “He’s not, really, once you get to know him. He’s just… it’s easier for him one on one, you know?”

Lily nods. You nod, too, and lean over to pick up another magazine. You flip through the pages, looking for whatever sticks out. Your friends collect magazines and newspapers and fun posters and give them to you, and you hoard them for days like these. A little sun drawing pops out at you from the page, and you reach for the scissors.

You clear your throat. “Nothing happened, if that’s what you were trying to say. We just. We had some movie nights, played some video games, took a couple walks. That’s all.”

Lily looks up at you and stares. “Right.”

You stare right back. “What?”

“Did you want something to happen?” She asks, and you freeze, the magazine page half turned.

“What?” You ask again.

“You said nothing happened,” she says. “Did you want something to happen?”

You stare at the wine in your glass, the way the warm light of the lamp catches on the red liquid. Your stomach swirls. Did you want something to happen? He’s your friend. Your study partner. He’s your best friends’ teammate. Did you want something to happen? He’s a sweetheart once you get to know him. He holds your hand when you walk by the soccer field and he doesn’t push you when you can’t do it. Did you want something to happen?

You shake your head. “We’re just friends. We bonded over physics trauma. We were just bored.”

Lily nods and reaches for the scissors. “Okay.”

You want to say more to defend yourself, but you think that’ll be even less convincing. So you move your focus back to the vision board and try not to think too much about what she asked you. It doesn’t matter what you wanted, anyways. He’d never see you that way, and if he did, he’s probably too scared of his teammates to do anything about it.

…..

January slips away faster than you’d expected. It’s full of syllabuses and assignments and far too much homework for this early in the semester. You do a lot of it at the kitchen table in the guys’ house, sat across from Oscar even though you’re not in a class together anymore. It’s just nice to have someone to study with, even if he has no idea what you’re talking about when you whine about your biology assignments.

February brings with it the warnings of a winter storm for the ages. On a Thursday night, you sit on the couch in the living room, giving your homework a feeble attempt. The guys are back from an afternoon practice, and everyone is settling in for the evening.

“You know who we play next week,” Carlos says, leaning over the back of the couch and looking at you.

“Can’t remember,” you answer, not even looking up from your book. “Not the Badgers.”

The Badgers are the Timberwolves’ sworn enemies. The rivalry game weekend is one of the most anticipated events on campus. It’s marked on the calendar in the kitchen with a dark red X. It’s weeks away.

“No,” Carlos says, raising his eyebrows when you finally look up at him. “The Bears.”

For just a moment, you wonder what sort of significance that’s supposed to hold. They play a lot of teams. Most of them, they’re relatively civil towards. A lot of the players grew up together on junior teams, and they’re still friends outside of game weekends. You’re about to ask if he has beef with a Bears player when you notice Oscar’s stiff posture where he sits on the floor in front of the couch. He’s been half watching the TV, half working on homework. Then you remember.

Oscar played for the Bears for two years. That was his former team. The ones who treated him so badly he quit hockey. You blink up at Carlos and pray he doesn’t take the route you think he’s going to.

“You know who used to play for the Bears,” Carlos starts, a lilting tone to his voice.

Oscar turns over his shoulder with a grimace. “Play is a strong term,” he says. “I did a lot more sitting than skating.”

Carlos shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows. “I am just saying. Maybe we should be worried that Piastri here will go easy on his friends.”

“Not my friends,” Oscar says, quietly.

You slip your hand off the couch and press it to his shoulder blade, hidden from Carlos’ view behind blankets and cushions. Oscar relaxes slightly, and his eyes flicker to yours. Carlos is just trying to rile him up, probably. There might be a hint of truth to it- trying to test Oscar’s loyalty, which is stupid.

You turn to Carlos and blink. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like your own apartment?”

Oscar laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough, muffling it into his elbow. Carlos grins, gaze flickering between you and Oscar, mischief in his eyes.

“Oh, Bunny has claws,” he teases.

By Sunday, everyone is panicked about the impending snow. The stores sell out of all the essentials before you can even bother to plan the week’s family dinner. You and Max will have to make do with what’s left on the bare shelves of the grocery store. The aisles are packed with people. You’ve lost Logan in the fray.

“He’ll be fine,” Max says, trying to maneuver the cart around a small child. He makes a funny face at her, and she laughs. “He will find us, and if he doesn’t…”

“Oh my god, please sound more concerned,” you say.

He shrugs and reaches for a box of Kraft Mac and cheese.

“You have to be kidding,” you say with a glare.

He nods, looking at the grocery list again. “I am. We are buying more TimTams?”

Your face grows hot against your will. You snatch the list from his hand as he eyes you, brows raised. At that exact moment, Logan, your lifesaver, appears from the crowd.

“I got so lost,” he says, eyes wide. “This place is a madhouse.”

Max nods, and he looks around, set determination on his face. “Alright. Let’s get what we need and get out. Logan, hold onto the cart.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “I’m not a child,” he says, but he grabs the cart anyways.

By the time the three of you get in the car, the first few snowflakes are falling. Max sits stiffly in the passenger seat the whole drive, like he’s worried a little snow will send you into a violent crash. You make it home safely, of course, and unload the groceries together. Charles is sitting on the couch in front of the living room window, staring at the snow, a cup of hot chocolate in hand.

“It’s already pretty,” he says, softly.

You ruffle his hair. “Is there more hot chocolate?”

He nods. “Oscar’s making it.”

You head for the kitchen, bags in hand, and find Oscar and Alex huddled around the counter. You give them a smile as you unpack the groceries, and Max and Logan do the same. Oscar looks up at you, eyes bright.

“What do you want in yours?” He asks.

You stand with your hands on your hips, thinking hard. He’s got plenty of supplies- mini marshmallows and sprinkles and caramel drizzle and whipped cream. You shrug.

“Keep it simple,” you say. “A couple marshmallows and some whipped cream.”

He nods eagerly and gets to work. By the time your bags are empty, it’s ready. He hands it off to you with a happy smile- the whipped cream sits in a perfect spiral atop the mug. He looks so proud, and it’s such a sweet gesture, you almost lean over and kiss him right on the forehead. Almost, before you remember half his teammates are here, and Max is watching, and everyone is apparently suspicious. And that it would probably be a strange thing for you to do. You just smile and thank him quietly instead.

You head back into the living room with the mug, trying to shake his soft, proud grin from your brain. Charles is there, in the loveseat next to the window, and he pats the cushion, beckoning you to join him. You sink down, turning so you can look out the window, too. He tosses a blanket over your lap.

“He gave you more whipped cream than me,” he says, pouting.

You shrug. “Maybe he likes me better.”

Charles narrows his eyes at you. “Do you remember, a few months ago, when you thought he hated you?”

You nod. “Funny how things change, huh?”

Oscar walks in then, a mug in his hands. His gaze slips to the window, brows raising on his forehead, and he smiles happily. You smile, too and turn back towards the window as he walks over.

“Pretty,” he says, softly. “Wow, it’s really starting to come down, huh?”

You sigh. “God, I hope they cancel classes tomorrow.”

Charles sighs and sits up. “That reminds me. I have an assignment due at midnight.”

He stands up and stalks off, taking his hot chocolate with him. Oscar makes a sympathetic noise, but he doesn’t hesitate to steal Charles’ spot on the couch. You smile at him when he sits down. Both of you put your legs up on the cushions so you can stare out the window. You rest your head against the back of the couch and let your knee rest against his. Outside, Logan pulls up with a full car, having offered to pick up a few of the team members who didn’t want to walk in the snow. Carlos climbs out of the front seat and leans over, already trying to scrape together a snowball. Oscar sighs. You turn to look at him, and he’s got a look of apprehension on his face. You nudge your knee against his.

“What’s up?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Maybe they’ll cancel the games next weekend, too.”

He doesn’t want to play against his old team. From what he’s told you, you can’t really blame him. He’d hinted at a toxic environment when he first told you, but the longer the two of you have been friends, the more information you’ve pulled out of him. He’d mentioned something about a scar on his upper lip, how his old team captain had left it there when he pushed him onto the ice. Your heart breaks for him.

Under the blanket, you reach out and rest your hand on his knee, lightly. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

He grins widely at that, and then hides it behind his mug of hot chocolate. You smile right back. Outside, Carlos hits Logan directly in the stomach with a snowball. The others are making their way towards the house. You brace yourself for the impending chaos.

Charles and Max cook dinner, and there are enough people in the house that you end up eating in the living room on one of the couches. Lando sits next to you, while Oscar sits on the floor in front of you, his back against the couch. The news is playing on the TV, and you all steal glances at the bottom of the display, where the area snow closures are being announced.

Max pokes his head into the living room from the dining room. “Snow’s getting bad. Anyone who doesn’t live here should probably go now, yeah?”

People begin to stand up. You almost follow suit, figuring it’s about time you headed back to your apartment, and not really wanting to walk in the snow. Lando grabs your wrist and tugs, though, and Oscar’s head whips around to look at the two of you.

“Maybe you should just stay,” Lando suggests, a small smile on his face. “It’s a storm warning, you know.”

You blink softly at him, though you sit back down. “Lan, I don’t have any of my stuff. I don’t have clothes to sleep in. I have an 8am class, and I don’t want to sleep on the couch and have a sore neck-“

“Oh come on, you know they’re going to cancel classes,” Oscar says, nudging your knee lightly.

“And if they don’t, I’ll go get your stuff,” Lando suggests. He pouts. “And you don’t have to sleep on the couch, I’ll get the air mattress out. C’mon. What if your power goes out?”

“When my power goes out, yours also goes out,” you remind him.

“But we can all be powerless together,” Charles chimes in from the other end of the couch.

You groan. “You guys. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself in a little bit of snow.”

You hear Logan’s car start up outside. You try to get up again, but Lando wraps his arms around your arm, and Oscar reaches for your ankles. You let out a squeaky laugh and try to break free just as Max walks back into the living room, brows furrowed.

“Max! Tell Bunny she should stay here,” Lando calls out.

Max blinks, eyes darting over the entire situation before he turns to look at you. “There’s a winter storm. You live alone. You are not going anywhere.”

You grumble, but you go limp anyways. Lando lets go of you and high fives Max as he walks past. Oscar holds onto your legs for slightly longer, and he squeezes your calf softly before he pulls away. You try to act normal about it, though from the side eyed look Lando gives you, you’re not sure you were successful.

Eventually, you head to the kitchen to help Max clean up from dinner. Lily, Alex, George, and Oscar sit at the dining room table, playing cards, while you and Max do dishes and Lando and Charles clean counters. When your eyes stay on the Oscar for too long, watching him laugh happily, the sink nearly overflows. Max nudges your shoulder.

“You can go hangout, if you want. I can do the dishes,” he suggests.

You shake your head. “M’fine. Just spaced out a bit.”

Max nods, though you can feel him watching you every so often. Lando and Charles start slapping each other with rolled up wet washcloths, and that distracts Max enough, at least for a few minutes. There’s music playing, and you hum along as the soapy water warms your fingers. When the dishes are done, Max ushers you to the dining room, and you take a seat in the chair on next to Oscar. Lando and Charles join, too, and you smile around at everyone. Snow is falling in the backyard, and the world feels quiet. Oscar’s fingers brush against yours when you both reach for a card, and you can’t help but smile. You’re exactly where you want to be.

At 9:30pm, just when you’re starting to yawn, and Lando is talking about going and setting up the air mattress, everyone’s phones go off. Little dings and chirps and vibration sounds echo through the dining room. Alex is the first one to open the email.

“Classes are canceled!” He calls out. “Snow day!”

The room erupts into chaos. Lando and Max hug each other, George stands up and cheers, while Charles collapses forward onto the table in relief. You turn to Oscar as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and shakes you gently. Alex leans over and kisses Lily on the cheek as she cheers. The joy in the room is infectious. Snow days have the ability to turn you all into children again, apparently.

Oscar leaves his arm around the back of your chair for the rest of the game. You try desperately to act like it’s not there, like you can’t feel the warmth of him on the back of your neck or the way his fingers brush against your shoulder. It’s consuming your thoughts, though, making it insanely difficult to focus on the card game at hand.

He’s one of the first to go to bed, and you miss the feeling as soon as he’s gone. You head up to bed eventually, and you pass Charles in the hallway on the way to brush your teeth. He gives you a sleepy half hug and stumbles into his room. You find yourself looking at Oscar’s door and wondering if he’s still awake, but you’re not sure what you’d even do if he was.

You wake up the next morning to Lando still out cold, snoring loudly into his pillow, and the early sun inching its way through the blinds. The air mattress is partially deflated, and you slide off of it and onto the floor with a soft thud. There’s a hoodie laying on the floor that seems relatively clean, and you pull it on. You know immediately it’s not Lando’s- it smells like a different laundry detergent and cologne, but it feels familiar and warm, so you leave it on. Then you wrap a blanket around your shoulders before you head downstairs.

Oscar’s sitting on the loveseat, still rubbing sleep from his eyes when you find him. He turns and blinks up at you, eyelids heavy. You blink back, long and slow, the way you’d been told to do with pet cats. It seems to work on him- he smiles. Without a word, you head for the kitchen.

You return with two mugs of tea, and he smiles up at you. He makes room for you to sit, and you do so happily, curling your legs under you and fully facing the window. It’s a winter wonderland outside. You can’t even see where the front yard ends and the street begins. Snow is still falling, though at a slower rate.

“It’s so… quiet,” Oscar whispers.

He stretches one leg out behind you on the couch, and bends his other knee up next to you. When you lean against him lightly, he doesn’t protest or move away. He just smiles.

You nod in agreement. “Pretty. I love snow.”

You blink a couple times and take a sip of your tea. Oscar’s leg is warm against your side. He reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You sigh and let your eyelids flutter shut.

“Still sleepy?” He asks.

You nod. “Yeah, but the air mattress is deflating, and Lando’s snoring, so…”

“Here,” he says, and you blink at him in confusion.

Oscar’s hand brushes against yours where you’re holding the mug. Your grip falters, and he slips it from your hand and sets it down on the nearby table. Before you can blink again, he leans forward and wraps an arm around your middle. Then he uses it to haul you towards him, your back against his chest, side by side on the little sofa. You’re nestled between him and the back of the couch, surrounded in warmth, your skin burning up. You can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest behind you.

“Okay?” He asks.

You nod, too sleepy to form the words, too sleepy to worry about what this means or if it’s weird or if someone else will see the two of you and have questions. He lets out a little laugh, his hand slipping into the pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing.

“Is this my hoodie?” He asks. You shrug. “Think it is, there's a hole in this pocket.”

“It was on Lando’s floor,” you mumble, burrowing deeper next to him. “So it’s fair game.”

He laughs, but he lets it go. You rest your cheek against his other arm and bask in the softness of it all, blinking at the falling snow and the soft morning light. Sleep scratches at the back of your brain, and as much as you want to fight it, as much as you want to stay present, it melts over you. The last thing you feel before you fall back asleep is the press of his cheek against the top of your head.

When you wake up, he’s in the kitchen, talking lowly with Alex. There’s a pillow wedged behind you to keep you from falling over and off the couch, and the blanket is pulled up around your chin. You don’t blame him for getting up, and you’re a bit relieved that he seems to have done it before the rest of his roommates are up, because you might have never heard the end of it. Though, when Lando rolls out of bed and joins you on the couch, with Max not far behind, and the three of you squeeze onto the little sofa together, you wonder if they’d have even questioned it. Maybe they’d have seen it the same as this- friends curled up on a slow morning, sharing space and warmth. Maybe that’s all it was for Oscar, too. You’re probably the only one who felt butterflies over it.

Oscar pouts when he walks in and sees his spot taken, though. Behind him in the doorway, Alex meets your gaze with a smirk, eyebrows raised, and you start to wonder again. Eventually, the rest of the people in the house join you downstairs, and you all start to make snow day plans. You close your eyes and listen to them talk. Whatever they come up with, you’ll enjoy, you know it already.

…..

Unfortunately for Oscar, the snow clears, and the first game against the Bears goes forward as planned that week. It’s a mess. The Timberwolves are up by two by the time they’re halfway into the second period, but the Bears are playing like, well, bears. Not a lot of penalties, but cheap shots and bad moves and what looks to be exhausting hockey. They’re frustrated by their own inability to score by the third period, and that’s when the claws really come out. The refs send a Bears player to the box for slashing. He gets back on the ice, and then another one gets called for tripping. There’s a few minutes left, they’re down a player, and they’re desperate.

When Oscar gets locked into a battle for the puck with his old team captain, you hold your breath. He manages to bat it away and send it skidding towards Max, but his helmet and face mask get shoved askew in the process. Somehow, you just know. Everyone in the arena follows the puck, but you watch as the captain on the other team rips his gloves off. You grab onto Lily’s arm and watch his fist connect with Oscar’s jaw. The Timberwolves bench erupts into chaos. The fight is over before it even starts, because Oscar just pushes the guy away and doesn’t swing back. The team captain gets sent to the penalty box. Oscar gets his helmet back on and gets back in the game.

An hour and a half later, you sit at the kitchen counter in their house, a mug in front of you. The house is quiet. You’re not sure why you’re still here- Lando went to bed a while ago, and Max had retreated to his room even before that. You’d made the excuse of staying to clean up the dishes, but now you’re just… here, still. Waiting. You should really go home. It’s bordering on midnight. If you walk home much later than this and any of the guys find out, they’ll be pissed.

The front door creaks open. Soft footsteps echo down the hallway, and you look up from your mug of tea. Oscar doesn’t seem surprised when he walks into the kitchen and finds you sitting there. He stops in the doorway, shoulders dropping. There’s a bruise shadowing his jaw. You wince.

“It looks worse than it feels,” he mumbles.

You stand up from the stool and head for the fridge. You can hear him walking closer as you rummage around in the freezer, finally finding one of the ice packs they keep in there. On a whim, you also reach into a cleverly disguised bag of frozen peas, and come out with two chocolate dipped ice cream bars. When you turn back to Oscar, items in hand, he looks perplexed.

“We have ice cream?” He asks, quietly.

You smirk. “Max hides them. But he can’t keep secrets from me. He won’t mind.”

He takes a seat on the stool, and you flip the switch for the overhead lights. He grimaces.

“I already had it looked at,” he says, brows furrowed. “Trainer said it’s fine.”

You hum as you step closer, pretending your heart doesn’t thud in your chest when you come into close range. “I know,” you say, reaching up and placing the ice pack against his face gently. He hisses. “This is actually an interrogation.”

His hand comes up to hold the pack, fingers brushing against yours. He laughs, then winces. “Yeah? What about?”

You drop your hand to your side. “Why didn’t you fight back?”

He sighs heavily, looking anywhere other than your face. You roll your eyes and open one of the ice cream bars and hand it to him. Then you sit down on another stool, facing him, before you open your own ice cream, too.

“I don’t wanna get suspended,” he shrugs. “And I don’t really fight.”

You decide not to bring up the guy at the party last semester and the way Oscar had been ready to punch him. “Even if they hit you first?”

He nods and makes a little noise. You wonder if he ever fought back when they were on the same team, or if he just accepted it. Your heart aches for him. He shrugs again, eyes flickering up to yours. He looks so sweet, despite the harsh kitchen light, despite the purple tinge on his skin, even more with a bit of chocolate in the corner of his lips. You take a bite of your own ice cream in the hopes that it’ll cool you down.

“Just never felt worth it,” he admits. “I don’t know. Some people are in it for that, for the hits and the fights and the… aggression. I just like hockey. Besides, the guy got a penalty. So now he’s out for a game. That’s better than getting a hit on him.”

The tone he says the guy in is interesting- like he’s distancing himself, like it’s easier if he pretends it was just some guy and not the captain of his old team. You overheard some of Lando and Max’s hushed whispers. You know the guy said some shitty things about Oscar on the ice. And tomorrow, he has to play the rest of the team all over again. Oscar takes another bite of his ice cream and purses his lips.

“I’m okay,” he promises. “And if the guys think I'm going easy on them because I have some weird sense of loyalty, I’m really not.”

“Oh, Osc,” you say quietly, shaking your head. You reach across the gap and press your hand to his wrist, the one holding the ice pack. “Nobody thinks that.”

He shrugs. “Carlos was-“

“Carlos was being a dumbass, but he doesn’t really believe it,” you promise. “After the game, all they were worried about was you. That’s it.”

He lets out a huff and takes another bite of his ice cream, cracking through the chocolate shell. “I don’t wanna be worried about.”

You almost pull your hand from his wrist, but as soon as he says it, he winces, closing his eyes. You wait, rubbing your thumb against his skin. He takes a deep breath. You press your finger to his pulse point, and his breath hitches. You watch his shoulders move.

“I don’t mean that. It’s nice. Just. Had a bad day,” he says. “And we have to do it again tomorrow.”

You nod and squeeze his wrist. “That’s the shitty thing about the way college hockey works, huh.”

He nods. The ice pack bumps against his face, and he hisses. You muffle a laugh and reach to put your hand over his to steady it, keeping your grip gentle. He inhales through pursed lips and closes his eyes. He slips his hand off the ice pack and lets you hold it, and blood roars in your ears. It feels so trusting. Strangely intimate. His hand falls to your knee, and you try to breathe normally. You’re probably failing miserably. You swallow all the feelings down and try to come up with something to say.

“Tomorrow is a new day,” you remind him. “We can wake up and pretend today never happened. A new game, a new start.”

He sighs and closes his eyes. “I can try.”

“That’s all anyone could ask for,” you tell him. “That’s all you can ask yourself for.”

A wavering smile crosses his lips. You take a bite of your ice cream to stop yourself from leaning in to brush your own lips against his cheek. The two of you eat the rest of your ice cream bars in the peace and quiet, under the fluorescent kitchen lights. His hand stays on your knee, barely there, just resting. Your fingers go numb holding the ice pack, but you don’t complain. You can hold this for him, for a little bit. He’s holding onto enough.

…..

You wake up on the couch the next morning with an ache in your neck, because by the time you finished the ice cream Oscar insisted it was too late for you to walk home, and you hadn’t wanted to wake Lando by sneaking into his room. Upstairs, you can hear the guys starting to wake up. Soon they’ll be donning their suits and heading to the rink to get ready. You push yourself to sit up and run a hand through your hair. Then you head for the front door.

Once you’re home, you call Lily. “I have an idea,” you say, ”and I need your help.”

Lily, to her credit, doesn’t ask a lot of questions. You’re sure she sort of understands what’s going on without having to ask, but you’re grateful either way. The two of you shuffle into seats in the arena, eager to watch. You’re wearing your jersey today, hoping it brings good luck, and you’ve both gone full out with lines of blue face paint under your eyes.

When they come out onto the ice, Lando’s the first one to spot you. He does a double take, nudging at Max’s shoulder. They both stare, heads tilted. You can’t blame them. Instead of your normal seats, the two of you are in the front row, right down by the boards.

You’d sit here every game if you could, but the tickets are outrageously expensive on a college student budget, especially when you can sit in the student section for free. Today, though, you’d splurged. There’s a poster board sitting at your feet that you’ve worked painstakingly on all morning. It needs to be seen, and for that, you need to be up close.

Lily lets out a squeak when Alex skates over. “Oh! Hi!”

You roll your eyes affectionately at your friend as she makes hand gestures at her boyfriend through the plexiglass. It’s too loud for them to hear each other, especially through the glass, but Alex’s big smile says more than words ever could. For what’s definitely not the first time, you find yourself wishing you could have what they have. You want someone to smile like that when they see you. You want to feel that giddy feeling.

Lando skates over, tapping his glove against the glass. You just shrug and laugh. He points at the poster board. You shake your head, and he rolls his eyes. It’s not for him. He’s not the one who needs it. Out on the ice, Oscar’s next to Charles, heads bent together as they stretch. Max skates over and points at you, and from this close, you can see Charles' affectionate eye roll, and the way Oscar smiles. He goes from apprehension to adoration quite quickly. Something turns in your chest. Lando, who’s still standing nearby, quirks a brow, and you wonder how plainly it’s written across your face.

While they’re all looking, you take a deep breath, pick up the sign, and raise it above your head. Alex bursts into giddy laughter, Lando’s shoulders drop, and Oscar’s face lights up like the sun.

Kick Some PiASStri, it says. The letters were cut out of magazines and glued down this morning, and you’re still a bit worried it’s not dry enough, but it seems to hold for now. Max and Charles bump their heads against each other as they laugh. Oscar shakes his head, absolutely beaming. It’s a new game, a new start, another day, another chance. And maybe, what he needs is a little bit of encouragement. A reminder that there are people rooting for him.

He skates over, playfully shoulder checking Lando, who’s talking to Alex, now. Oscar takes his stick and scoops up a loose puck off the ice. He flips it over the barriers to you, and you catch it, shrieking at the temperature when it lands in your hand. It’s nearly as cold as the icepack you held to his face the night before.The bruise on his jaw is visible as he looks at you through the glass, but he’s smiling so wide all the same.

He yells something. You can barely hear, but between that and the lip reading you’ve learned to do after years of watching hockey, you think he says something about his “number one fan.”

You just smile and laugh and hold the puck up in the air, hoping the giddy feeling in your chest isn’t painfully obvious. He puts a glove against the plexiglass, and you place your hand there, too, and you know you can’t but you swear you feel the warmth of him. It’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. He shakes his head, then pats his hand against the clear surface, and then he takes off across the ice.

When you turn to Lily, she’s smiling knowingly. “That was…”

“Shut up,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. “I don’t wanna hear it. He just needed some encouragement.”

It seems to work. He’s on fire that night, skating across the ice like it’s exactly where he belongs. You’re proud to be there, proud to hold the poster up when he scores, proud to call yourself his friend.

After the game, you find yourself in the back hallway of the arena, waiting. You can hear the music in the locker room from here, can hear the intermittent shouting and cheering from the guys. The other team is long gone. Lily’s back at the house already, getting things ready for the inevitable big party they’ll be having after a win like this. The poster you’d made leans against the wall.

Oscar’s the one to find you. His smile seems permanently set on his face tonight. His hair’s a mess, towel dried and sticking in every direction. “You kicked ass,” you call out.

He doesn’t stop at the socially acceptable distance apart. He walks close, so close you have to lean your head back just slightly to look him in the eye, so close that you can smell his shampoo and see the freckles on his cheeks. His hands are in his pockets, and your heart is in your throat. There’s something wild in his eyes. The bruise on his jaw is dark, almost blue now, and you reach up to brush a finger against the outline of it. He blinks and pulls his hands from his pockets.

“It was nice to see you in the front row,” he says.

Your pulse is pounding. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Those tickets are expensive. Just needed to make sure you could see the sign.”

He juts his chin out. “Yeah?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah. Did it work?”

He doesn’t answer. He just reaches out, and his hand lands on your hip. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye, and you hold your breath. His eyes search your face, darting between your eyes and cheeks and lips. You lean closer, closer. His cheeks are rosy and blotchy, from the game and the post game shower and- and maybe, from this, too. Is he feeling it, too? Is his heart racing, is he holding his breath, are there butterflies swirling around in his stomach?

Just when you think you can’t hold your breath any longer, he closes the gap, pressing his lips against your cheek. You wonder if he can feel how warm your face is beneath his lips, if he can hear the way your heartbeat picks up. It’s just a kiss on the cheek, but you let your eyes fall shut anyways, let the warmth wash over you, down your spine and all the way to your fingertips and toes. This is better than a thank you, better than anything, really.

There’s a loud bang of a door being flung open, and both of you break apart in a rush. You wobble, and he does his best to keep you steady. By the time you stand up straight, the two of you are standing a respectable distance apart, and the door to the hallway swings open. It’s Carlos, first, followed by the rest of the team. You try to compose yourself. Oscar’s face is bright red.

“Bunny!” Charles calls out, eager and bright eyed. “We won!”

Oscar backs away when Charles rushes up to hug you. Nobody comments on his red cheeks, or the poster sitting at your feet. You’re sure they’d teased him about it, but they won the game, so anything that got them there is seen as a good thing. Max is the next one to wrap you up in a hug, and soon you’re being pulled along in the stream of hockey players, out towards where the rest of their friends and families wait, out towards the walk back to the house where the party will already be in motion.

“Your face paint is smudged,” Lando says, pointing at your cheek.

You laugh and brush Lando’s hand away from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Oscar wipe his thumb on his pants, as discreetly as possible, and your heart flutters in your chest. There’s a blue streak of paint left behind on the fabric. It’s some sort of evidence that it really happened. It’s enough, for now.

Later that night, when you’re falling asleep in Lando’s room after a long night of celebrating, you think of deep blue bruises and bright blue face paint, and how much you wish you’d gotten the chance to mix them both together. It would look nice, you think, as you drift off. Paint smudged on his rosy, freckled cheeks. It would’ve been nice.

You dream of Oscar. You’re definitely not complaining.

a/n: happy oscar’s birthday to all who celebrate! 🥳

Series Taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav

#oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri au #oscar piastri fanfiction #Oscar Piastri x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 series #oscar piastri series #formula 1 au #formula 1 fanfiction #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 hockey au #op81 #honeywrites #fic: in motion

[aloesarchives]

Popular Boy (JJK One-Shot)

TW/Warnings: Fem Reader and She/Her pronouns, Angst with Fluff ending, Profanity, Smoking from Shoko and Suguru, Highkey Miscommunication Trope, Cheesy cliches, this one-shot being way too long than it's supposed to be, a little OOC Satoru and Suguru

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

AU: Modern/High School AU!

Pronouns: She/Her(any gal could read this, but Reader is slightly coded to be introverted, good at drawing and crafts, and a nerd)

Word Count: 10.2k words

Summary: You weren't supposed to fall in love with your best friend Satoru Gojo. But you did anyway. It doesn't help that he is the most popular guy in your school.

(A/N): This is my longest one-shot to date. I went off the rails and wrote this out of this idea and brain dump I had. Un top of being sick, I didn't post for like 2 weeks because I was working on this and having little motivation. But I'm back!

[!!!Unedited and not proofread!!! 1/24/2024 4:27pm CST]

Having a crush on your best friend is the absolute worst. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. But after reviewing your symptoms, you concluded that you are, indeed, in love with your best friend, Satoru Gojo. It's too bad he’s the most popular guy in the school. Suguru is second to him but doesn’t bask in the attention like his friend does.

It all started when you became friends with them in your first year of high school. Shoko was in your class, and you two became best friends instantly. You’d usually eat alone somewhere during break or lunch because the cafeteria was always rowdy, making it overstimulating. One day, your usual spot was taken over. Though it bummed you out your little spot was discovered, it wasn’t yours in the first place, so you went on a search for a new one. After a few minutes of searching, you spotted Shoko smoking in a hidden spot behind the school. She hears you from how your feet crunch on the dirt and asks you to join her. Though you didn’t smoke, you stayed with her. After talking briefly, Shoko asked if you were free after school, taking a long drag out of her cigarette.

You never stayed too long after school, only for your respective clubs, but that’s it. You also had no friends, so maybe this is your chance to get closer to Shoko. Upon agreeing, she smiles before taking her last drag out and extinguishing her smoke in a nearby ashtray. As the two of you returned to class, she told you that her other two friends were coming. Hinting that they were quite the handful. Your expression lightens upon hearing the two new people joining your hangout with Shoko. Perhaps this could be what you needed to step outside of your comfort zone to have a social experience like everyone else your age.

 After getting off the train with Shoko, she pulled you along the busy crowd and met the two boys at the subway station entrance. You didn’t, however, expect Shoko’s mystery friends to be Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto—the most well-known boys in the entire school and possibly the whole district. Shoko was making your introduction to them as you grew shy under their gaze. Nervous was an understatement; anxiety was brewing in you like rain clouds forming a storm. What if they scoff at you? Mock you? Purposely pick on you for fun? Each thought raced against each other across your mind that you didn’t notice Satoru placing his hand on your shoulder. It snapped you back to reality as you looked up to avoid being rude.

 You’ve heard the rumors and the hushed whispers from every corner of the school about how Satoru Gojo was among the most good-looking guys. How he had blue eyes that matched the sky and hair like snow. You only caught glimpses of him throughout the campus but never saw him up close. But now that you are, you can confirm it for yourself. To you, he looked more ethereal, if anything. His blue eyes were like the endless cerulean sky above, his white hair lightly tousled in the wind; he was beautiful to you.

“Hey, you don’t have to stiffen up around me. I don’t want you to go all shy on me (Y/N). Satoru Gojo, at your service~.”

Extend his hand to shake yours; you return the gesture, albeit clumsily. Satoru chuckles before he unexpectedly brings your hand to his lips. He kissed your fingers ever so gently, feather-like almost. Your body most certainly would have erupted in a blaze by his actions. But it didn’t; you were more caught off-guard. You wondered if he did this to every girl he came across. He just smiled afterward but gets bonked on the head by Suguru, who went to introduce himself to you.

“Satoru, you’re going to scare her off. Sorry (Y/N), he’s always like that. I’m Suguru Geto, and I hope you’re not uncomfortable because of him.”

You quickly dismissed it, trying to ease Suguru’s concerns. After hanging out with them, you knew you found people you would call friends. You never had that much fun until you hung out with them. Going to arcades, eating out together, and wandering the city of Tokyo filled you with non-replicable happiness. After that hangout, the rest was history. Since then, you have always hung out with Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. You all stuck together like glue every time possible. You never guessed their popularity rubbed off as well. You became known on campus as a well-known upperclassman and now a senior. 

But you noticed you spent more time with Satoru than with Shoko or Suguru. You could credit it to his goofy, childish personality that matched your vibe even more. He loved discussing Digimon and was happy you shared the same interest. You two would indulge in each other’s interests and hobbies. It became more evident that both of you had grown closer from when Shoko adopted you into their group. Yet, you told yourself time and time again not to fall for Satoru. In fear of losing what you have with each other because you caught “feelings.” In addition, Satoru had many, many, MANY admirers—girls across the school, district, and the Tokyo Metropolitan area. Many come from prominent backgrounds, blessed with being gifted, or simply beautiful in every way. While you didn’t mean to self-sabotage yourself, you were beautiful and brilliant in your own right; you were being realistic. How could someone like Satoru Gojo, from a wealthy and prominent family for centuries, go for someone like you? It was wishful thinking at that point, but it was stretching itself thin even then.

Anyhow, this brings you to the present. It’s December 1st, six days before Satoru’s birthday. You were in your dorm, conjuring up what to get him. It was more complicated than because the man was loaded. He had the money to buy anything and everything he wanted. So what can you get for him that wasn’t already bought? After some time, you had the genius idea to make something for him. You decided on making a bracelet and a framed sketch of him from one of your sketchbooks you occasionally draw in.

While working on your gifts, you were on the receiving end of teasing from Suguru and Shoko, specifically from Suguru. I mean, he was the first one to catch on to your feelings for his friend. Shoko had her suspicions but never mentioned them in case she was delusional. But once Suguru brought it up, she instantly joined in the teasing. It was harmless fun, yet you couldn’t help but rethink your crush on Satoru. Your feelings for him shouldn’t exist, yet you can’t help it. You felt alive, but most of all, you felt comfortable and safe with Satoru. You never hid your lovely personality or felt ashamed of your interests. Satoru was always supportive and was a part of your shenanigans too. As cheesy as it was to admit, it felt like you’ve found your soulmate, your other half. You always relished your moments with Satoru, no matter how short or dumb they were. Sure, you loved your moments with the gang, but it hits differently when it’s only Satoru and you. It was as if your life changed when he came into it. 

During the day before Satoru’s birthday, Shoko and Suguru hunched over your desk as you finished the page you were doodling. The smears from the graphite and erased pencil markings showed the fine details to capture Satoru’s features. 

“Wow, those look exactly like him. If he were animated, he'd be drawn like this. May I, (Y/N)?” Suguru asked.

You nodded, and Suguru picked up the sketchbook to inspect the page further. Shoko peered over his shoulder to also get a look.

“I think Gojo would love this. Don’t you think so, Suguru?”

“I would think so too, Shoko. It’s a well-thought-out gift (Y/N). Satoru would love it.”

“Wait, (Y/N)! Show Suguru what else you made him!”

Suguru raises a brow at the brunette as you pull up a photo on your phone to show to Suguru. Suguru squinted his eyes a bit to see the picture a bit more clearly.

“You made that bracelet for Satoru? It’s pretty nice. Where’s our (Y/N)?”

“I have them back in my room, Suguru! I just. . . You know. . .”

“So you’re implying we’re not as special as your beloved Blue Eyes White Dragon?”

“SHOKO, you’re not helping!!! OfcourseImadeitmorespecialforhimbecausehereallylikesdigimonandhisbirthdayiscomingup–”

“(Y/N)! I was just joking! Geez, calm down before you pop a blood vessel.”

As you catch yourself from any further rambling, you are about to explain the bracelet to Suguru before Satoru slides the classroom door open. You think it’s him but can’t tell through the mountain of gifts and bags in his arms. But seeing a wisp of his white hair gave you all the more reason that it was Satoru. Satoru plops the pile on his desk as his arms cave in, some gifts falling off the edge and onto the floor. One fell near your desk, so you picked it up and placed it back on his desk.

“Is it Valentine’s Day? What’s with the gifts, Satoru?”

“*sighs* These are from numerous girls all over the school from varying grades. My birthday is tomorrow, so I guess I'll get the early gifts. Though, I don’t know how to return all this to my dorm. You guys wanna help me open them up back in my room?”

You all replied yes and helped Satoru with his pile of gifts. As you put on your sketchbook, you felt a breath tickle your ear.

“Hey, whatcha drawing, (Y/N)? Drawing (favorite Digimon/Pokemon) again? Let me see!”

You caught a whiff of his surprisingly minty, fresh breath. Usually, it comes in hot with the number of sweets he’s been eating, so this was a pleasant surprise to you.

“I’ll show you later when we open your gifts in your room, ‘Toru. You gotta be patient.”

You chided while swatting his all too-close face away from you. Little did you know, a sickly sweet smile flashed on his face upon hearing his nickname. Once the last bell rang, you four headed straight for Satoru’s dorm to open all the gifts he received from the day. Once dumping them into a pile, you each read the note attached to the gifts and opened them up. Some were cool, homemade gifts, others were basic and generic. Most were sweets or baked goods since he is widely known to have a sweet tooth. You all were open and chatty when Suguru grabbed a neatly wrapped velvet box.

“Hey, Satoru, isn’t this from your ex?”

“Which one?”

“Don’t know, let me see the tag. . . From Satomi. . .”

“Oh, her! Let me see, Suguru!”

You cringed hard hearing Satoru talk about his numerous “girlfriends.” As much as you didn’t want to say it, Satoru’s playboy attitude was your least favorite thing about him. All the girls he saw shared one common trait: they never stayed too long with him. Satoru would cycle through many girls every few weeks to maybe a month. He never bothered to introduce them into the friend group, let alone bring them to your shared hangouts. Now that you think about it, he never talks about them when you or the others are present. He never calls them his girlfriends or partners, just sugar-coated words and nicknames meant to sweeten a non-existent fruit that never grew in the first place. You wondered if he would treat you the same if you dated him. But you were thinking too deeply, FOCUS GIRL!!! It’s now or never. Well, not really, but you have the perfect chance to give Satoru his birthday gift! You can make it work for just the two of you! Find him by himself, steal him away to deliver your gift, and possibly confess. 

Satoru's birthday gifts from his fans dwindled to only small boxes and clear bags. Shoko and Suguru categorized his gifts as apparel, food, trinkets, etc., while Satoru plopped beside you. You were munching away at some candy, deciding to take a break from opening the cookie cutter-esk presents as your vision became spotty. It was silent for a moment, only the sounds of your other two friends' voices bickering about which pile a gift should go. Satoru shifts his attention towards you, mindlessly popping the candy into your mouth before dramatically yawning, spreading his limbs across his bed. His legs would stretch over your lap. You popped the last candy before throwing the empty bag at him.

“What’s wrong, Satoru? You've grown tired of your gifts or what?”

“That and feeling sore from sitting on the floor. . . Hey! Will you show me your drawing from earlier (Y/N)?”

“Uh. . . I dunno, Satoru–”

“Pleaseeeeeeee?! I promise I won’t crease the pages like last time! Come on (Y/N)!”

Satoru juts out his lip and gives his puppy eyes with praying hands. You glance at Suguru and Shoko, who snickered at your little predicament. You sighed deeply and pulled out your sketchbook for him to see. He was giving you his full attention, asking questions, and complimenting the fine details of your latest creation. You two were smiling and giggling along as you turned the pages. However, you were getting nervous because you didn’t want Satoru to see his page. You hoped he got bored or distracted so you didn’t have to flip through more from your book. Suguru has a sixth sense because he called Satoru’s attention before you flipped to the next page, which would’ve been his. 

“Okay, man, we sorted your gifts into these four separate piles, which one should be obvious. . . Look at the time; it’s almost curfew for the girls. I’ll walk them to their dorms, Satoru.”

Before Satoru could protest and tag along, Suguru snatched you and Shoko away and out of the dorm. Satoru stood up perplexed, before shrugging it off and storing his gifts away. Suguru dragged you two to the skywalk and looked dead into your eyes, startling you from his sudden closeness.

“You have to do it tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“Uh, do what, Suguru?”

Shoko and Suguru gave each other a face before looking back at you.

“You gotta confess to Satoru, (Y/N). Do it tomorrow when you give him your gift on his birthday. And before you ask, we knew about your feelings for him way before. It’s painfully obvious, (Y/N).”

Shoko just nods her head in agreement. You knew Suguru had a point; it’s now or never. But you didn’t want to make things awkward for Satoru, let alone pressure him to say yes because he feels terrible for rejecting. Overthinking started kicking into high gear, and you started thinking about every possible scenario Satoru could react to. None of them were of him reciprocating your feelings. Unfortunately, Suguru had to say the dread words no one wants to hear when trying to confess to their crush.

“The worst thing he could say is no, (Y/N).”

Shoko elbows him while you wince at his words. You knew he meant to comfort you, but it didn’t help ease your nerves. Suguru, observant as ever, picked up on it, and from Shoko’s reaction, he knew his words were a miss.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll come with you for support, so it won’t be as stressful going alone.”

Suguru gives you a comforting smile, and you give on in return. Shoko said she couldn’t come because she volunteered to tutor some underclassmen for some Visa gift cards. So she says good luck to you before walking across the skyway and into the building of the girls' dormitory. You gained some confidence and bid Suguru goodnight to finalize your gifts. You framed Satoru’s page in a sleek dark blue frame and knotted Satoru’s bracelet. The marble beads of the bracelet were white, cerulean blue, and black. Complementing each with a small interchange charm in the middle where an Agumon charm dangled freely. You wrapped up both gifts and placed them in a mildly used paper bag you had from when you went shopping.

As the next day rolled in, you were surprisingly giddy to give your gift. You just had to catch Satoru alone and give yourself a good ten minutes to slip in your confession. The problem was you hadn’t seen Satoru at all. Sure, today was a half-day, but Satoru was barely in class. When he was, though, he was flooded by many girls telling him happy birthday or giving more gifts. Since it was a Friday, Satoru didn’t do much after school and would wander Tokyo for the remainder of the day. You knew you were losing time, so doing it right after school was best.

Once the last bell rang, you packed your bag and held your present tightly to find Satoru. However, he was gone from his seat when you looked at his desk. While you tried to find him, Suguru texted you. He said he saw Satoru go behind the school. He also said he would wait for you at the front gate to hear about your results. As you go to the back, you are smiling so hard that it would make your teeth rot. But as you got closer, your sweet smile instantly dropped when you heard a girl’s voice and another voice you made out to be Satoru’s. Your heartbeat repeatedly drummed in your ears as you hid yourself to not be noticed. Trying to even out your breath, you slowly peek your head in a slow, agonizing manner to get a better look. Unfortunately, your curiosity kills your heart as it confirms your worst fear.

Satoru stood smiling, and another girl giggled like a classic school girl in a high-school rom-com movie. You recognized her as she was in the same grade but from a different class. You’ve seen her around but never been a part of Satoru’s unofficial fan club. Yet you could never have guessed she liked him too. You knew you should look away, already seeing what was needed. But the naive sliver of hope forced you to continue watching, hoping it was a delusion your mind conjured up. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew the other girl beat you to him as she held Satoru’s hand and smiled up at him. Satoru places a hand on her cheek and probably says something you can make out ‘I love you' before dipping his head to meet hers. A chill washes over your body as your grip on Satoru’s present stiffens, further crimping the paper bag. Shakily, you pulled out your phone and took a picture before turning on your heels and going anywhere but here.

Suguru was ever so patiently waiting on the outcome. He was blissfully smiling. Hoping all is going well and in your favor. He was distracted by his phone when he recognized the sound of your footsteps. He pockets it as he sees your figure walk towards the gates. He cheerfully called out for you but was met with silence. When you walked past him, your head hung low; Suguru knew something was wrong. Concerned, he quickly went after you while calling for you. When nothing works, he steps in front of you to hold your shoulders still to prevent any more movement. Shaking your shoulders, he firmly asks what’s wrong.

A wretched look contorted on his face when he saw your face. Your eyes are shiny from glossy tears on the verge of overflowing from the edges. Lips in a tight quiver, trying to not let a sob escape from within the depths of your hurt soul. You were trying your best to stay together, but Suguru saw you were hanging on by a thread. He gives you a comforting, tight hug as you begin to cry into him. Letting it all out and providing comforting pats on your back. As you start to calm down, Suguru gently takes you to a nearby cafe where some of your group hangouts and study sessions happen. Considering your current state, he keeps you from paying for your drink. Once he got them and sat down, you told him what you saw that caused this. Suguru chokes on his drink in disbelief upon hearing about Satoru’s doings.

“He what?! Are you sure, (Y/N)?”

You nodded as you pulled up the picture on your phone to show Suguru. His eyes widen even further as he stares at the picture. Returning back your phone, he takes a big sip of his drink.

“So, what are you going with your gift then, (Y/N)? Are you still going to give it to Satoru?”

“I... I. . . Don’t know, Suguru. . . I did make it for him, but I don’t think he’ll care.”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t, (Y/N)?”

“You know what I mean, Suguru. Satoru doesn’t really hold onto any gifts he gets. Unless it’s sweets or something he thinks is cool, he’ll donate, give, or throw it away. My present would collect dust in his room and be forgotten. We literally sorted out his fan mail yesterday.”

You glance over at your initial present for Satoru. The bag has deep creases and wrinkles from death gripping it in your disassociated state. You delicately bring it to your lap, blankly staring at the two dedicated gifts inside. Sighing in defeat, you slowly fold the top of the bag before setting it back in its previous place. You gave Suguru a tired smile, saying how wishful thinking blinded you from reality. Suguru couldn’t help but feel pity. It hurts him to see you like this and blame yourself for dreaming about something he knew would become a reality. But he was thrown in for a loop because he was sure his best friend was hopelessly in love with you. The glances, the consistency of bringing up your name, the extra care he gave when it came to you, IT WAS ALL RIGHT THERE! Was Satoru leading everyone on, you included? Suguru was going to get to the bottom of this. He escorts you back and asks Shoko to stay with you until nighttime. 

After filling Shoko in, you looked at the crippled bag sitting alone on the floor. Taunting, making a mockery of you, and constantly reminding you how you really let your feelings get out of hand to let you believe a fantasy. How foolish you are, little stupid fool you were, you think. Getting off your bed, you go over to the bane that reminds you of your naivete as a hopeless romantic. You were tempted to throw the whole bag away; consider burning it all.

Despite thinking of wiping the existence of those gifts from this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. They were drawings of Satoru and a handmade bracelet with his favorite Digimon, and you were proud of how they turned out. The time and dedication you put into it really showed how much this man had a chokehold on your life no matter what. Crush, friend, it didn’t matter. He really changed your life; you would be forever grateful for that. Even if that meant you always stayed friends. It was a better fate than being strangers altogether. So you decide to store the bag in an empty drawer for miscellaneous items, not wanting to see it anymore. Shoko was surprised by your actions. Though she would understand you destroying them, she didn’t expect you to keep your gifts. You just shrugged, saying destroying it wouldn’t do you any good. No amount of satisfaction or fulfillment would come from it. Shoko just gives you a hug as you lean into it.

Ever since that day, you slowly stopped talking to Satoru. He didn’t notice it because you would make excuses or leave immediately before he could catch up. He thought you were busy with homework and school. It was brought to his attention when you wouldn’t hang out with him. Whenever he texted you to hang out, you would say you were busy or not feeling good. It got worse when you didn’t attend your group hangouts with Suguru and Shoko. It was always the four of you. Without you, it felt incomplete, and Satoru started to miss you and the vibe you brought. Even when he asked Suguru or Shoko where you were, they would give the same answer you did. And it was starting to frustrate him. Did he say or do something to distance yourself from him? Did he accidentally hurt without realizing it? Why did you suddenly not want to talk to him anymore? He sees you talking to your other friends and classmates without a care in the world. Your lovely lips always curled upwards, and how your cheeks and eyes molded to highlight your face, you were absolute divinity in his eyes. Had you always looked so beautiful to him? Yes, but he didn’t realize that until now since his only way of looking at you is from a distance. 

Every time he would try to make his way over to you, you gave a quick side glance in his direction before wrapping up any conversation and leaving. This honestly began to hurt Satoru. He had never dealt something like this with anyone else. Maybe when he had severe fights with Suguru, but they would make up in the end since he knew it was mostly his fault. But this is different because he was in the dark of your avoidance. It was like he was the bubonic plague, and you were straight-up social distancing yourself from him. It didn’t matter when or where; as soon as he entered within a 12-foot radius, you were going in the other direction. This had been going on for almost two weeks! It was now the 21st, the last school day before winter break. Nothing significant was happening today besides the classic winter break assembly. He needed to talk to you so you two could somehow talk it out and make it. It’s ironic how oblivious he was to the circumstances he was in. The roles are now reversed because now he’s pining after you like you had been for him for the past few years. You usually would sit with them during these events, but since you’re distancing, you opted to sit with your peers. When you did sit with them, you would be the furthest away from Satoru. 

Satoru should’ve been paying attention to the assembly. But his only focus was you, who was on the other side of the gymnasium. You were sitting on opposite bleachers with one of your underclassmen, Riko Amanai. Satoru wished he could teleport himself to you, pick you up, and go to a quiet place to talk. But he knew he had to be patient to make his move, something Suguru had to remind him constantly. Once the assembly was over, Satoru by-lined to where you were. However, the sea of students eager to leave school is challenging, even for the 6’3 boy. He saw glimpses of you with Riko as you pulled her along and weaved through the crowd out of the school. The resistance he met trying to reach you became so aggravating he was shoving anyone who got in his way. It got to the point where students made room for him to pass through, fearing the wrath of Satoru Gojo in a bad mood.

Alas, once he exited the school, you had already gone off campus to who knows where with Riko and Kuroi, her caretaker. Satoru tightened his fists, and his face bore a scowl as you slipped away again. He would have punched the school’s concrete fence if Suguru didn’t pop up in front of him. Satoru was slightly calmed when he saw his friend, but a twinge of unease settled in when he saw Suguru’s strained smile. To a regular person, it seemed like a genuine smile. But Satoru knew Suguru enough to know when he gave these smiles. This one meant he was in deep trouble. Suguru said he needed to talk to Satoru about something over a bucket of KFC with one of the Visa gift cards Shoko gave them. Satoru followed it, knowing there was more to Suguru’s unidentified mood. However, Suguru just stops in front of the KFC, idly standing with his back to him. Seeing his standoffish behavior, Satoru becomes confused and finally breaks their tense silence.

“Look, Suguru, I know this isn’t the best time. But we need to talk about (Y/N).”

“What is there to talk about her, Satoru?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Suguru. You noticed how (Y/N) has barely been hanging out with us. Giving excuses to not hang out. I don’t understand why this happened so fast. Two weeks ago, (Y/N) was fine. She was laughing with us and being a part of our stupid antics. Then, after my birthday, she slowly stopped replying to my texts and avoided me altogether. Suguru, you got to know something. I don’t want to be left in the dark anymore. I need to know what I did to make her stop talking to me.”

Oh, Suguru knew the reason why you were doing this. You told him yourself. You admitted to Suguru you didn’t know how to act around Satoru anymore, in fear of spilling your confession and making a fool out of yourself. You knew how cowardly it was to do this. Not correctly communicating your emotions and actions to Satoru was self-sabotage, and your relationship with him would suffer severely. You tried to ride out your feelings to the best of your abilities. But you learned that those feelings for Satoru wouldn’t go away no matter what you did. So, you thought the best option was to slowly distance yourself from Satoru to heal your broken heart and save your dignity. Suguru was against this at first. But he let it slide since it was only Satoru and not him or Shoko.

What he didn’t let slide was how he saw his best friend paraded around his latest girlfriend. He knew that relationship wouldn’t last at all because there was one thing he knew about his best friend. Satoru Gojo is a lonely person. No amount of fan girls or guys dick-riding him would fill the void of loneliness Satoru faced in his life. He always was told that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was talented and good at anything and everything he did. But with that, people only saw him from afar, never really caring to realize Satoru was like anyone else besides his wealth. Suguru knew you made Satoru feel seen and let him dwell on his antics so he could be a teen, not some high, mighty God people were willing to kiss his feet. Satoru fell in love with you but doesn’t want to admit it. Seemingly taken you for granted. Suguru doesn’t blame you for trying to lose feelings for him. He would, too, if the person he liked gave mixed signals and had a cycle through partners like daily outfits even though they heavily implied to their best friend they wanted you but never cared to tell.

You would have made the first move. But with many rejections, some harsher than others, you decide to wait for the other person to say something first or drop an obvious hint. You aren’t going to drive through a red light, only green ones. You often hear the phrase, ‘Girls who make the first move on a guy get the relationship.’ That is a blatant lie and bullshit because it only works if the guy doesn’t care, the girl asking is conventionally pretty, or the guy already liked or was interested in the girl. You experienced so much rejection that you might as well give up on telling your feelings so as not to be seen as pathetic. You thought it would be different for Satoru because of your powerful chemistry together. But he sent many mixed signals, being flirtatious and teasing you, genuinely looking out for you simultaneously, all the while still never giving a break to dating and having a long line of girlfriends at his beak and call. It was too complicated for you. Then, with the incident, you knew you had no chance with him because it seemed he would never feel the same.

“Do you like (Y/N), Satoru?”

Satoru gave his best friend a bewildered look, his face recoiling.

“Yeah, of course, I like (Y/N), Suguru. What kind of question is that—”

“That’s not what I’m asking you, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N)? Yes or No, simple as that.”

“What are you trying to get at, Suguru?”

Suguru visibly groans at the Satoru’s density. This was annoying Suguru at this point.

“Satoru, be honest with yourself. Admit it, you’re in love with (Y/N). How you look out for her, care for her, and constantly bring her up in conversations every chance you get, the longing gaze you give her when she isn’t looking, always staring at her instead of anyone else in the room. The list goes on and on, Satoru. Stop denying it. Do you love her, or are you just saying that because you want to joke about someone’s feelings?”

Satoru’s voice was caught in his throat; he had his answer, but his body wasn’t giving him a chance to say it. It was like Suguru hitting the nail every time, making Satoru feel cornered. Suguru sighed frustratedly at the silence of his best friend, who usually would have his answers ready in the queue.

“So you never really loved (Y/N) then, Satoru.”

“What! No! I do love (Y/N), Suguru—”

“Then why the fuck do you still indulge in your playboy personality? You and I both know that won’t get you anywhere, Satoru. It’s doing you more damage than good, yet you continue feeding into it! Maybe if you gave a break from your causal flings, (Y/N) would have confessed to you, and the two of you would have been dating by now. God, You’re just a headache, Satoru…” Suguru doesn’t shout, but his sharp tone is on the edge of becoming angry.

Wait, what?

You were going to confess to him?

You like him too?

Satoru blinks owlishly while trying to process this mind-breaking information. You liked Satoru, so the feeling was mutual, right? Then why is Suguru getting mad at him for feeling the same way?

“Wait… Suguru...(Y/N) likes me too? Why didn’t she say anything in the first place? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because you already had a girlfriend, Satoru. (Y/N)’s not a home wrecker.”

“Yeah, okay. But I was single for two weeks! She knew that! Why didn’t she confess to me then?!”

“I don’t know, Satoru… Maybe because she was more focused on making your birthday gifts than her confession towards you. How much of her time was dedicated to making them? She was going to confess to you but decided not to.”

“When, Suguru?!”

“ . . .Your birthday. . . (Y/N) was going to give your gifts and confess on your birthday, but you decided to fuck yourself over.”

“ ‘Fuck myself over? What do you mean, Suguru?” Satoru said in a hushed but shocked whisper.

Suguru pulls out his phone, pulls up the picture you took, and shows it to Satoru. Satoru’s eyes widen like saucers, surprised by Suguru’s possession of a photograph that captured his private moment. He grabs Suguru’s phone to take a closer look before looking back up at him, face still bearing the same expression.

“Wait, that happened on my birthday. How did you take this? 

“I didn’t take it, Satoru. . .”

“Huh? Then who—”

Oh. . .Oh. . .

Oh no. . .

It all was starting to click for Satoru. Suguru looked unamused as he saw his friend’s gears moving in his head.

“Suguru, I—”

“So, do you love (Y/N), Satoru? Yes or no?”

Satoru stays silent with no motions to verbalize an answer.

“*sighs* Then tell me, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N) because she is beautiful? Or is she beautiful because you love her?”

Suguru left a defeated and devastated Satoru in the streets to be alone with his thoughts. In doing so, he hoped his friend would connect the dots himself. Satoru stood frozen in front of the KFC, finally understanding it. The distance, the consistent decline in hangouts, the short conversations, being ‘happy’ around others but never near him, how your smile droops at the mention of his name, and the solemn expression your eyes wore ever since his birthday all added up. It was all because of him. Sure, it’s both parties at play here.

On the other hand, your actions were just reactions to his own, especially when his loneliness caused him to become desperate in seeking out the attention of multiple girls he would ‘date.’ Consequently, it signaled he was looking for something casual with no strings attached, making you believe giving a confession would be useless to someone like him. But that’s far from the truth.

 He couldn’t believe he had done you dirty for so long. You were always in front of him, waiting for him this whole time. You were the one to give him warmth and fill in the void of loneliness that has plagued his soul for so long. But he never gave you a chance because he never cared to ask or consider it. He took you for granted because he knew you would always be there for him through everything and anything; you were his ride or die. Oh, how irresponsible of him that not truly appreciating your presence would lead to your eventual withdrawal.

Now he realized his love for you was real and profound as it was tiered above anything else. The way he flexed his bicep when you linked arms with him to stay close in big crowds, the stars your eyes have when talking about your favorite topic made him have this dumb love-sick look, or your smile that always filled him with love and joy when it’s directed at him, he still wanted to experience these things with you but as more as friends. And yet, he was on the verge of losing it all forever. Three years of friendship/pining would be wiped away in three weeks. All because he was scared to admit his fragile vulnerability behind his pompous attitude. He had to do something; he needed to. Or the only thing he will have of you is the memories you two created. Satoru booked it and ran through Tokyo for ideas on what to do. He didn’t care if he looked absurd. All that mattered to him was finding a way to mend things. The only thing on his mind was you.

Because he knew it was you.

It always has been you.

And he had to pull off miracles to save your relationship with him.

It was the next day; Satoru was carrying a big shopping bag around Tokyo, hoping to find you. After spending the rest of his afternoon and night finding some ideas, he made you what he dubs his ‘I’m sorry’ present, which was also your Christmas present. It contained a 15-inch plushie of (Your favorite Animal/Digimon/Pokemon/Character), a jacket you told him you wanted but was too expensive a while back, and (earrings/necklace/bracelets/rings/any sort of wearable jewelry) in your favorite color as you stared at it longingly when at the mall with the gang, Satoru always made a note of that.

Now, the hard part giving them to you in hopes of talking with him. It would have to be a  miracle to cross paths with you. Satoru couldn’t text you since you stopped responding to his attempts at communication. In a vast city being hectic in the upcoming days of the holidays, he needed all the luck he had just to spot you in the crowd. But even if he knew your schedule by heart, there was no sign of you in Tokyo. He could visit your home, but he assumes he’s an unwelcome guest since you lived with your (sibling(s)/guardian/parent(s)/loved one), and you confide in them frequently. As time never stops, he’s losing time. His precious time with you is slipping away, never to return. Both and forth, the wind chill nipped and whipped at his exposed skin. Satoru’s cheeks, nose, and knuckles were rosy as his body worked overtime to keep warm. The puffs from his mouth fogged up his glasses as he forced himself to continue searching just to have a chance to run into you.

Satoru is not religious, nor does he believe in a god. And yet, in those moments, Satoru started to pray. He was praying, begging, pleading for any divinity to hear his desperate cries to come across you. Just a chance, anything, he’ll do anything to see a wisp of (hair color) hair walking along the streets. His strides slowed; every step he took was heavy. Until they eventually came to a stop; his chest puffed in and out after wandering aimlessly along the bustling streets of Tokyo. He exhausted himself to the point that he was unaware he was in front of the school’s gates. He didn’t even notice the gates were wide open, and a familiar figure approached them along the adjacent side. His hands were on his knees, hunched over where a shadow loomed over him. Then he hears a voice so angelic and heavenly that he believes he was hallucinating at first.

“Satoru? Satoru, are you okay?”

Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, seeing you are bundled up well. You wear a slightly troubled face while holding an umbrella over his head. 

“What brings you here, Satoru? I thought you had stayed home today since it was forecasted to snow.”

Once pointed out, Satoru noticed white specks falling in front of him. He stands up at full length, making you adjust your umbrella's height on him. Though his signature grin is on his glossy lips, internally, he is screaming and celebrating that his prayers have been answered. After hours of aimlessly trying to find you throughout the city, you were finally in front of him in the most ironic place. He chuckles at your gesture before gingerly taking your umbrella and hovering it above you two.

“I was going to ask you the same thing, (Y/N).” He gives a warm smile at you.

“The school left the campus and dormitories open so students could grab their things to take home. I forgot some stuff at my dorm, so I came today to get them. Would you like to accompany me, Satoru?” You said, adjusting your empty canvas tote bag on your shoulders.

With no hesitation or thinking, Satoru immediately said yes. He smiled as he walked the two of you to your dorm.  But you couldn’t help but glance down at the big shopping bag he was holding. ‘It must be a Christmas present for his girlfriend… she is so lucky.’ you thought. Not a single peep came out of you two throughout the trip to your dorm, even with no words, tension building up in the air surrounding you. Neither one of you wanted to make the first move. It was childish to continue like this. There was no bad blood between the two of you at all. But you were persistent in embarrassing yourself in front of Satoru. Before all this, you were never afraid to have banter or say the most off-the-record stuff with Satoru. But it was different when it was unrequited thoughts and feelings, as you didn’t want to further humiliate your pathetic self. Once you got to your dorm, you said you wouldn’t take long. Closing your door, Satoru leans against the back of it. He watches silently as you diligently gather your needed items and place them inside your bag. Each item is packed into your bag, and he has less time to make his move. He knows he needs to say something because he sought after you for a reason. 

Likewise, you were in the same boat. You can feel the tension blanket your body as you retrieve your things. Avoid direct eye contact with Satoru for fear of breaking your facade and folding. While trying to focus on anything that wasn’t him, your eyes kept glancing at the massive bag beside Satoru’s feet. It was a decently sized bag spaced out from the items it contained. By the looks of it, you assumed Satoru went out splurging on his latest girlfriend for Christmas.

‘Wish that was me receiving that bag. . .’ You thought to yourself as you arranged the items to avoid ruining your bag.

Satoru snapped out of his trance when the sound of your shuffling stopped. Your head slightly hung low as you stared at the bag with flat palms. You sighed with your head shaking side to side. You decided to break the silence to ease the tense air in your room.

“I didn’t know you did last-minute shopping, Satoru. Guessing how full that bag is, it’s your Christmas present to your girlfriend. You love spoiling your girlfriends with endless money to burn. Keep doing that, and you’ll go broke, dude. . . Lucky her. . .” You slipped the last part out under your breath. Your smile dropped briefly before returning, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru.

However, you remembered Satoru had excellent hearing. He could pick out of the faintest of whispers. When you realize that, you panicked and faced him. From how his brows were raised, you knew he definitely heard it. Your brain scrambled to find a way to cover the creaks in your walls from your slip-up, causing you to speak up. What you didn’t expect was Satoru doing the same.

“Sorry, Satoru, I didn’t mean that–”

“(Y/N), I need to–”

After catching each other’s words, you both abruptly stop to give space for the other to talk. Satoru gestures for you to go first. Gentleman as every. Feeling the anxiety and embarrassment weighing on you, you didn’t dare to look at him when talking, so your head focused back on your bag.

“Look, Satoru. . . I know how immature this is, but I want to apologize for the sudden change in my behavior and distance over the last few weeks. It was uncalled for, and you deserved a proper answer.–”

“No.”

“It’s because– huh?”

Prompting you to look up at Satoru, to which he had an unreadable expression. His glasses were blocking the creases of his eyes to indicate any of his emotions. A chill of uneasiness ran up your spine when you saw the serious look on Satoru’s face. He walks over to you with his hands in his pockets as he stares down, his expression unchanged.

“No, I need you to hear me out.”

Satoru cut off any chance for you to speak because he and you would be done if you did. He knew if he didn’t find you before Christmas Eve, what you two had would cease to exist. Once winter break ends and school resumes, he and you would be in two separate worlds. Ultimately becoming strangers who once knew each other. The thought of it made him nauseous and clammy to the core. You were the sun that shined in his endless cerulean sky. The moon and stars that gave illuminated his night sky. You gave light to the vast numbness he’d endured for all he could remember. You were the light he had been longing for years. And he was going to lose it all because he was a coward who didn’t have the balls to admit it and used dating as a coping mechanism to fill the hole in his heart.  So it’s now or never for him to be vulnerable to you because he feared this was his last chance.

“I know you didn’t mean to distance yourself from me at all. I know you still cared about me and didn’t want to push me away for fear of humiliating yourself. Being me, I didn’t notice at first that you were hurting until you uprooted yourself from my life, and it’s been god-awful without you. . . I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

The genuine sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. You noticed that. It came straight out of Satoru Gojo, not from the egotistical, pompous, popular senior, but from your best friend. So you decided to up your ears to what he has to say. When you gave him your undivided attention, Satoru knew this was it, so he spilled it out.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t really appreciated your presence. I took you for granted because I thought you would always be with me, with no chance of leaving me. That bit me in the ass once you slowly stopped being with me. But I know there’s more: the mixed signals I gave off, the playboy attitude, and the lack of self-awareness I had for myself. It was a way for me to not confront the crimpling loneliness and numbness I’ve been having. I indulge in my fangirls and causal relationships, hoping it would fix it. But it was just a temporary solution to a long-term problem. I saw the girls as a means to get my mind away from it, and the girls get to be with the famous Satoru Gojo. . . I’ve done this song and dance for so long that it was a part of my routine. . .”

“Oh, Toru. . .”

God, he missed that nickname you gave him. The way it rolls off your tongue in any tone, it’s seared into his memory and mind. When people, especially his ‘girlfriends,’ try to use that same nickname on him, it fills him with unexplainable rage. That name was for you to use on him, not them. They didn’t have a place in his heart like you do, so he always corrected them to minimize the usage of that nickname. But when you said it, it was soft and tender like the snow falling outside. He knew he was getting to you, and it was working. He relaxes as he closes his eyes, only to open them when your hand gently holds his cheek. Thumb swiping it in a comforting manner. You wanted to say something so Satoru didn’t have to do all the work. For him to admit, he took down all his walls so you could see all of him. To you, it was a privilege and honor to see such vulnerability coming from an individual who was charismatic and oozing with unspeakable rizz. So you continue to listen patiently to see what point your famous friend is making.

“But you disrupted the routine, (Y/N). . . When you came, it felt like I didn’t have to do that anymore. You made me feel free and alive. Allowing me to be my authentic self around our group or just the two of us. But most of all, you made me savor each moment I shared with Suguru, Shoko, and you. I always cherished what I had with them. I cherish what I have had with you over the time I’ve known you. I always did. Maybe that’s why the moon and stars shine brighter when I tell them about you. They know how brightly you shine in the endless sea of regular people. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to admit you already had my heart. . . And in doing so, I hurt you in ways I couldn’t have imagined. . . I am so sorry I had to make you wait so long, (Y/N).”

You hadn’t realized your tears were cascading down the curves of your cheeks. Was this really happening? Did Satoru just confess to you? You think this is all too good to be true, a scenario you conjured up to cope with hopeless romantic delusions. But his voice was full of raw fondness. His face had this lovesick expression, and his eyes bore sheer devotion as his tears were caught in his eyelashes. He really did feel the same way after all. He would’ve resumed pouring his heart and soul out if you hadn’t firmly pulled him into a tight hug.

Though caught off guard by the gesture, he warmly welcomed it as he returned the action. Tears wet his shirt as you clung to his chest. Satoru lightly kissed your head before cradling it like it was the most fragile thing in the universe. The once-thick tension disappeared, and a comforting warmth blanketed the two of you in its place. You two dared not to pull away, taking in the moment that has caused mental gymnastics for both of you. Eventually, someone had to pull away, and it would be you. You smiled so warmly at him with love-filled eyes. You wipe away Satoru’s tears that continue to fall and hit his glasses.

“. . . I love you too, Satoru. I should also apologize because I didn’t communicate my feelings to you. I was scared of how you would react to my confession. I didn’t want to lose what we had, nor did I want to pressure you into saying yes to spare me the heartache. I also didn’t know how to act when I was with you, and I feared I would look stupid. I shouldn’t have thought the only solution was to cut myself out of your life. Though these are my explanations, they don’t justify my excuses. Please forgive me, Satoru.”

“All is forgiven, Sweetheart. Will you forgive me, too?”

“Of course, Satoru. . .” 

Satoru starts to dip his head as you both smile at each other. You were going to let it happen, but a thought came across your mind as you softly stopped Satoru’s head. With a pout, Satoru would ask what was wrong before he was faced with a panicked look.

“Satoru! What about your girlfriend?!”

Satoru blankly stares at you before he starts to chuckle quietly. You were truly a kind person.

“Satoru! I’m being serious! Stop laughing!”

“Oh my dear, (Y/N). You truly have a kind and caring heart. I promise you I’m not cheating on her, nor are you homewrecking. She texted me she found someone else and ghosted me right after. I’m all yours, baby~.” 

Satoru waves his hand as he pulls out his phone to show you the proof, as you have always been skeptical of his words. Once you visibly relax, your gaze returns to the big shopping bag Satoru carried around. He already knew what you were going to ask and had an answer.

“Why don’t you take a look and open it yourself, (Y/N)? You did say the bag was my Christmas present for my girlfriend~.”

Your face heats up as Satoru retrieves your Christmas present. He holds it out, and you slowly take it from him. His grin becomes a soft smile at the reaction to the gifts in the bag. You squealed at the massively cute plushie as you gave it a happy squeeze. You gasped and were awed when you pulled out the jacket/sweater, gleefully trying it on.

“Give me a twirl, Love.” On command, you spin yourself so he can see how it captures your figure. Anything does look good on you in his eyes.

“I thought this was sold out, Toru! How did you get your hands on this?!”

“I have my ways. Now open your last gift.”

You go to open your last gift, and how your mouth was opened reassured Satoru that he was the best gift giver in the world. Fingers delicately hold up (favorite jewelry), observing the glow and reflection it gave off. It was gorgeous and unique as it had (favorite gemstone) being the main centerpiece. Only the best for you.

“Satoru, you still remember this?”

“Of course I did!”

“But that was over three months ago. . .”

“I know, (Y/N). But the way your eyes lingered on it when we went to the mall, I always noted it. Plus, I thought it suited you the best, so I had to buy it.”

“Oh, how sweet of you, Satoru. Thank you for the Christmas present. I really love them.” 

After returning your gifts to their bag, you walked to your dresser to fish something out. Satoru watches curiously as you pull out a crumpled paper bag. Satoru eyes widened as you handed the bag to him.

“ While they are Christmas gifts, they are technically your birthday gifts. I would’ve given them on your birthday but chickened out when I found out you had a girlfriend. So Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Satoru. They may not be as good as your gifts, but it’s something, right?”

You offer a smile as Satoru opens his gifts. You giggled at his extravagant reactions, praising and adoring his Agumon bracelet that he instantly wore on his wrist proudly. He pulls out the other gift and is shocked to see the drawings of him. The frame fits in his hands as he analyzes each sketch of himself. The detail and precision that went into each told Satoru you took the time and energy to draw him. But it also made him giddy as he looked extremely handsome and good-looking in each of the drawings. It caused him to blush when he realized this was how you see him through your eyes. As he was looking at your drawing page, he noticed the frame’s stand was attached to its sides.

Turning it around, he saw another drawing on the other side. But this sketch made Satoru’s heart beat out of his chest. The page contains only one illustration of two people walking with smiles. However, those two were him and you walking, smiling at each other, and holding each other’s hands. Satoru’s silence did concern you for a bit, but it was shattered when Satoru went in steadfastly to seal the gap between your lips. Your initial shock wore off before you let him reciprocate his kiss. You can feel his soft and smooth lips; he needs to give you his lip care routine. After parting, Satoru leans his head against yours, his arms not unraveling from you. 

“No, they are wonderful gifts. Thank you, (Y/N). I love them. . . and I love you.”

“I love you too, Satoru~.”

Basking in each other’s warmth, eliminating the cold and gloomy atmosphere from outside. As much as you wanted to stay together a little longer, the campus would close soon for the rest of the break, and you must leave quickly. You didn’t want to leave Satoru yet, so you tried to extend it as much as possible.

“Hey, Satoru? Can you walk me home? The forecast said the snow will pick up tonight, and I don’t want to go home alone.” 

Satoru gives his classic grin before kissing your forehead sweetly. 

“I would love to, Sweetheart. I’ll carry your bags while you can hold the umbrella.”

The snow continues to softly fall as the two of you walk along the bustling streets of Tokyo. Although the white puff clouds appeared every time someone spoke and the tips of Satoru’s face were bright red, Satoru never paid attention to the frigid temperatures. Even in this cold white winter, he can see that your bright aura always gave a comforting warmth he yearned for. Making you stand out amongst the sea of passersby, the bright neon lights of Tokyo, and the white dots that continue to cover the city.

The light that shines and gives light to his dull Cerulean sky. Satoru’s world wasn’t grey anymore as he had finally found his light, you.

Bonus:

—A few days later—

“You think they made up, Sugs?”

“Honestly, I hope they do. If not, we’re fucked, Shoko.”

It had been a few days since Shoko and Suguru had last heard from you and Satoru. Neither has responded to your texts as often as usual, making the two nervous. Then Suguru proposed a hangout before New Year's Eve. He didn’t add it in the group chat because he was unaware of the situation. Opting to ask you two individually instead. Even though you two responded, he was unsure if the storm between you two passed over or was still raging on. 

However, his initial worries would be meaningless soon enough. As Shoko and Suguru were taking a drag at the meet-up spot, they spotted two figures approaching them. Squinting their eyes to get a better look, they recognized that it was you and Satoru. Their eyes traveled down a bit to see both your hands intertwine. The love that came from Satoru’s smile and your eyes told them everything.

Though the two smiled and high-fived each other, Suguru grinned ear to ear, which earned a frustrated sigh from Shoko. She then reaches into her coat to fish out her wallet. 

“I guess I win, Shoko. Hand over that $25 Visa gift card, please?”

#x reader #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #shoko ieiri #satoru gojo #reader insert #fem reader #x female reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #satoru x reader #jjk satoru #jjk x you #jjk #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #x y/n #reader x character #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #anime x reader #anime x y/n #anime x female reader #x reader oneshot

[alphabetatoes]

you'd make me pay? (jjk x reader)

aka the one where you joke w the men of jjk about paying to get affection (g. satoru + n. kento + k. choso + f. toji)

a.n.: reader is a comedienne n loves to mess w these men (the way the toji one actually happened to me 🙃)

c.w.: 18+, mdni

gojo

"C'mon- Wanna mark you up. Let everyone know you're mine." Satoru had spent practically the entire night trying to convince you to let him give you a hickey.

"Give me $10 and I'll think about it." The issue wasn't Gojo's insistence on marking you. It was his inability to adhere to subtlety. Yet he adored when he could see those red splotches of skin peaking out of your shirt collar.

Gojo stretches his body across your legs, his frame managing to span the entirety of the couch. "Toru, you're crushing me." You move the rogue white strands of hair out of his face.

"Please babe. Need you so bad." His bottom lip bulges as his whining continues.

You cave to his begging, giving him a light pat on the arm. "Fine, you big baby."

Gojo lifts himself from you and pulls you into his lap, a goofy smile strung across his face.. He takes a chaste kiss from your lips, reveling in his victory. You tilt your head to the side as he buries himself in the crook, nipping and sucking along your neck.

nanami

Sharing a bath was not only a way for the two of you to spend time with one another, but to also relax from the stress of the day. Kento had poured the two of you a glass of wine, and you lit a candle to aid in the tranquility.

You're sat on opposite sides of the tub, indulging in the warmth of the water. "C'mere. Want you to sit in my lap while I wash your hair." Kento's hands draw soothing circles on your ankles, gently tapping them to get your attention.

You sink further into the bubble bath, taking a sip of the wine. "I'm so comfy though." The idea of having to move your tired limbs on your own was a travesty. "I'll need at least $15 if you expect me to move on my own."

"How about I make you dinner and give you a massage after instead?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Nanami." You feign concentration as you mull over his proposal. "But you've got yourself a deal." You clink your wine glass into his, cheers-ing to the proposal.

Once you're seated on Kento's lap, his strong hands make idle work to wash your hair. You let a hand sink to his waist, stroking against his cock to help him relax as well.

choso

You were nestled into Choso's chest as the two of you watched a movie in the living room. One hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. His other hand laid rest on the top of your leg, which you let rest draped over his.

"Can I kiss you?" Choso's breath tickles your ear as he whispers his request.

"For a dollar." You purse your lips, waiting for Choso to lean in.

He reaches for the wallet in his back pocket, pulling out a bill. "I only have a $20- y'know what? Just keep it." As he shoves the bill into your hand, you gently push it away.

"I was only kidding, baby." You try not to laugh too hard as you quell his nerves. The sincerity staining Choso's face has you melting. You give him a sweet smile, grabbing onto his cheeks to pepper him with kisses.

toji

Toji was out of town on a job, leaving you unfulfilled for about a week. To help sate that aching feeling, you'd planned to video chat

“Your tits look great in that top.” Toji eyes you up and down, flashing a coy wink when he meets your gaze. “Think they’d look even better without it, though.”

Feeling playful, you give him an ultimatum. “Give me $5 and I’ll do it.”

“You’d make me pay?” His smirk turns into a pout, frustrated by your proposition. Whether he'd admit it or not, Toji missed you just as much. Craving for any glimpse of the body he had longed for.

“Now it’s $20.”

“Cut me a break, doll. Don’t need you actin’ like a brat when you got me all worked up like this.”

Toji pans the phone down to his waist. The material of his sweatpants is tented up as his dick strains against it. You flip him off and flash him a quick look at your tits, not quite giving into his demands.

He’d owe you big time once he got home.

#gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento x reader #choso kamo x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut

[dotster001]

I came running once I saw requests were open. Can I please get househusband Riddle, Leona, Cater, Deuce, and Kalim? Ty! Love your work.

3k follower Masterlist

Part One part three

Obviously, there's no world where this man starts out as a househusband. He's a highly paid Doctor to start out. Then you two adopt a baby. After his own childhood, he wants to give a child a chance that he didn't have. While You're both working, you still have more time to spend with the baby. When Riddle finds out he misses the baby's first words, he puts in his two weeks immediately.

He's still strict, but it's in a much more manageable way. He is a good tutor though, so all the neighborhood kids come to him for homework advice. Eventually, at the behest of some very stressed neighborhood moms, he starts a homeschool group.

The house is always spick and span, everything is in place. The home, and everything in it is white or red, looking very professional.

Every meal includes the proper portions of each food group. But there's also a rather sumptuous strawberry dessert at the end of every meal. He asked Trey to teach him as many recipes as he can. But that means…some of them look really good, but every once in a while, one looks like a gooey mess. It still tastes good, but he feels self conscious about it.

Like Idia, he's only technically a househusband. He's an influencer, and he works from home. But according to his sisters, that's not a job, so call him what you will 😡

As much as he insists he's not a househusband, he sure acts like it. He says it's for his magicam, but you've caught him dutifully icing a cake with no camera present.

Like Riddle, he's super color coordinated, there's just much more variety of colors. And every room is designed in a way that can be "cammable" at a moment's notice.

He drives to your work everyday with a bagged lunch, and makes you eat with him. He never skips a day, even if he's sick. And he always adds a cutie element, like cutting your sandwich into shapes, or drawing a picture on the bag.

He's a trophy househusband. Not doing anything. He hires a maid and a butler using his leftover allowance from his time living with his brother.

He's never worked a day in his life, and doesn't intend to start now.if you confront him about his laziness and spending habits, he'll say something like, "Baby, my job is to be here and look pretty when you get home. If you no longer want to be cuddled, then I can start doing housework." Obviously, that's not what you want.

Tbh you have no idea what he even does all day. You leave and come back hours later to him in the same spot and same position.

He's average.but like, in a good way.

He puts 110% effort into everything. He likes to cook, but he has a 75% success rate. He's decent at cleaning, but he breaks stuff from time to time. Sometimes it's been three days and he remembers he's supposed to walk your overweight dog everyday.

But he's so happy to do what he does. And it's human to make mistakes. Plus, Everytime you forgive him for one, he goes husband mode, and makes out with you hard. (It used to be delinquent mode, but then he realized he could use it to his advantage)

He's still a rascal, still picks fights with some of the neighbors over how he can keep the grass as tall as he wants, still gets into trouble when Ace comes over to visit. But he's less likely to beat someone up so bad that you need to bail him out again

*Sighs* a part of you knows that this might be a game to him. But you can't really blame him.

He has enough money that neither of you would have to work in your life. But for whatever reason, you feel the need to. Perhaps it's you also playing the game.

See, someday he has to take over his father's business. So you think that's why he wants to play house right now. Because he knows one day he won't get the chance.

Jamil lives in the guestroom, and does his best not to ruin the immersion. You can usually tell who cooked dinner that day (no offense Kalim) But other than that, Kalim gets left to his own devices.

He's the kind that will wake you up at three in the morning to tell you he reorganized the kitchen. When you go to look the next morning, half of it's a disaster, the other half just doesn't make sense. But he's so proud, and waiting for you to tell him he did a good job, so he'll keep doing it.

He's also the kind that you come home, and he has a whole litter of puppies, with a pout on his face as he begs if you can keep them 🥺

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #3k followers #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #cater diamond x reader #cater x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader

[m00nh1gh]

LOVE TALK

Bang Chan x French!reader x Felix

You've seen them performing on the street in Hongdae and then you met them at a club during the same night. They also noticed you.

Filming, facial, hair pulling, protected sex, choking, Felix is lowkey scary with the stranger talk...

Word count: 4k.

Your friend had decided it would be a good idea to bring you with her to Korea to celebrate Christmas with her and her family. You told her it was alright, that you were used to being alone during Christmas time or any holiday, but she kept insisting and the next thing you knew was that she had brought your plane ticket.

So there you were, dressed in your newest winter outfit, walking in one of Seoul's busiest regions for shopping and trying Korean food. Hyejin had been smiling the whole time and she never let go of your arm, dragging you to different stores to walk out with a new bag each time.

“Y/n, look!” She shook you excitedly and pointed to a crowd in the middle of the street. You looked at her in confusion and she started walking towards the group of people. “Dancers!”

“Oh,” you nodded and followed her. You both walked through the people to stand at the front. You felt bad for them since they were there before you, but Hyejin didn't care about that stuff.

There were eight dancers, all boys. You didn't recognize the song, but your friend seemed to know it since she was singing and copying the dancers’ moves but in a more subtle way.

The performance was fun to watch; their chemistry while dancing was insane and they also interacted with the crowd, just like artists would do at their concerts. And of course, they were all good-looking, especially two blonde boys that happened to make eye contact with you for a few seconds. One had curly hair and he winked at you, the other one whose hair was a little longer had tried to hide a smirk but you saw it before it disappeared.

Maybe it was because of the song choice, or it was just natural for them, but the sex appeal was strong. Hyejin and you both watched until the very end of their performance, cheering them on the whole time and exchanging glances with them all.

You noticed one of the two blondes trying to walk up to you before being dragged away by one of his friends and he gave you one last smile before grabbing his water bottle and leaving with the group. You were still staring at the two blondes before Hyejin shook your thoughts away with a playful smirk on her face. You rolled your eyes and you also left, judging it could be time to take a break from shopping.

“They were into you.

- Oh, shut up,” you placed your bags on the floor to take your coat and scarf off. You kicked your shoes off next to your particularly excited friend's before grabbing your bags again and walking to the guest room that you'd occupy for the next two weeks.

“You're lucky you know,” she came into the bedroom after you and jumped on the bed. “I don't draw that much attention on my second day here,” she emptied your shopping bags to sort your stuff out, but also to check it out.

“I don't even speak Korean, so I can't even say a word to any guy here.

- What makes you think that?” She held a sparkly, dark purple dress that you bought earlier and she nodded to herself. She laid it next to the pile of clothes she had made just before. “My family's Korean and we all speak English. Et je parle français pour toi,” Hyejin stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder. “We're going clubbing tonight. Find yourself a man that speaks your language. Your body can talk too, by the way,” and just like that, she walked out of the bedroom.

You scoffed as she closed the door behind herself and you looked at the short dress she had neatly placed on the bed. It was nearing six in the evening and you knew you were both going to take a long time to dress up and do your makeup, so you immediately played your favorite playlist and started building an outfit to go out.

“Y/n!” She came back in, now wearing a low-rise mini skirt and a tight black tank top under a leather jacket. She was holding two pairs of earrings and she showed them to you. One pair was silver stars and the other was silver hoops. “Which ones?”

“The hoops,” you answered, gesturing for her to come in and she took it as a hint to sit at the small makeup desk. You stood behind her and grabbed a hairbrush and a hair clip to put her hair in a messy ponytail that would look good with her outfit. She thanked you and urged you to sit down now so she could do your makeup.

It was definitely a dark makeup. She used some purple, a lot of glitter and black for the eyes, put false lashes on you and to finish the look, she put a rosy lip tint on your lips. You'd always praised her for her talent in makeup and tonight wasn't an exception. Your confidence skyrocketed and she left you to finish dressing up. You only had accessories to put on now and your hair to do. It was now 7:10pm and your heart skipped a beat for some reason. Maybe you were really looking forward to finding someone to have a little fun with tonight.

Your jewelry was golden for tonight in contrast to all the cold colors you were wearing, but it looked good. You curled your hair and let it down. Then, finally, you grabbed your long black coat and your purse before walking out of your room and joining Hyejin at the front door, mindlessly scrolling through her cellphone.

“Ready?

- Yeah,” you put your heels on and she let you get out before her.

Hongdae was flooded with people. You had to hold Hyejin's hand not to lose her and she was leading the way to the club she had wanted to visit. She told you it was one of the best out there and that she had visited it a few times in the last two years. Apparently, all the hot guys hung out there and you both knew why you wanted to go clubbing anyway, so you happily followed her to the club.

You could hear music blasting from outside the building and some people were waiting in line to enter. You looked at her with uncertainty and she rubbed your shoulder soothingly.

“It's always like this, but waiting's definitely worth it. Come on,” she pulled you with her in the line and surprisingly, it took less than ten minutes to enter. There, the music was so loud that it went straight to your heart and the colorful lights blinded you at first before being redirected somewhere else. You both went straight to the bar after having left your belongings at the coat check because you had to get some alcohol in your system before going on the dance floor.

One shot of vodka was good enough for now and when you turned to look at the numerous people in the room, you spotted almost immediately the two blondes from before whispering at each other and looking at you. Your cheeks burned and you turned back to Hyejin.

“The dancers from earlier are here.

- What? No way!” She squealed and shook your shoulder. “You should totally fuck them!

- Two at the same time?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah, that could be fun. Besides, they look very close so they'd probably like to share you.

- They probably don't even speak English,” you pouted and played with the glass you'd emptied.

“Never hurts to give it a try,” she grabbed your arm to pull you up and you walked to the dance floor. She took both of your hands in hers to make you more comfortable and soon you were mirroring her movements, dancing to the songs that were playing but still not doing too much.

You looked at her confusingly when she looked behind you and smiled, but then she let go of you and walked away. It's only when you turned around to see what she was looking at and ended up face to face with the curly haired man that you realized what was happening.

You were going to apologize for almost bumping into him, but he placed his hands on your hips and smiled at you. You blushed again, but then you realized this might be your chance and you took it willingly.

“Do you speak English, pretty girl?” His accent was definitely one from Australia, you noticed, and your eyes lit up.

“Yes.

- Where are you from?

- I'm from France. I'm sorry if my accent's a bit weird.”

He laughed and pulled you closer, shaking his head.

“I don't care about that, our own accent is heavy. We can't judge.

- We?” Two additional hands were on your hips, just under the first guy's and you gasped softly before looking behind you.

“I remember you from this afternoon,” this was such a surprise. The guy that had the cutest face amongst the whole dance group had the deepest voice you'd ever heard and it made you shiver. “Funny to see you here now,” he was also Australian, no doubt about it.

It felt really intimidating to be sandwiched between two hot guys, but you also felt hot, so you pressed yourself a little further against freckles guy's chest, making the other one come closer to you two. Your ass was practically up against his crotch and his hands traveled up your body as you kept moving your hips to the music.

“Call me Chris,” curly hair said.

“I'm Y/n.

- Felix,” his voice will kill you. Especially if he keeps talking like that in your ear, making you all shy. Chris smiled at you and he leaned to your other ear.

“It's nice to meet you, Y/n.

- Ma belle,” you bit back a whine and you pressed further against Felix again. He chuckled in your ear and his hands rested just under your boobs. “We've been talking about you all day. We hoped to see you again.

- Tell us if you want us to stop right now,” Chris played with the hem of your dress and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Don't stop,” you were happy to finally have what you wanted. Especially since they didn't only speak Korean, so you could talk freely with them and there was no language barrier.

“I like that answer,” Chris licked his lower lip and you watched quite intensely, Felix took this opportunity to place your hair to the side and to kiss your exposed neck. You felt yourself getting wetter in your panties at the contact of his lips against your shivering skin and Chris straightened your dress back before trailing his hands a little higher on your body.

“You wanna take this to your hotel?

- I'm staying at a friend's house.

- Let's go to mine, then?” Felix suggested. His breath was also hot against your skin. You nodded and Chris grabbed your hand.

“I see you're not scared of strangers,” Felix commented as you took back your coat and purse and you stopped in your tracks, really thinking about it.

“Don't worry, we're not weirdos,” you were pulled by the waist and Chris led you out of the club, Felix following close behind the both of you. He sat at the backseat with you to keep you company while Chris drove to where Felix lived. You had been making out the whole time. One of his hands was cupping your cheek and the other was on your thigh while yours were on his shoulders. Chris couldn't help but to watch you two from time to time, even just hearing your pants and the sounds of your kisses made him horny and he almost let out a sigh of relief when he finally stopped in front of Felix's apartment.

Chris opened the door for you and you stood next to him, waiting for Felix to unlock the door for you. As Felix was doing so, your lips were on Chris’ and he was teasingly pulling your bottom lip with his teeth. Once the door was open, you went in and when Chris closed the door, you were led to the bedroom and pushed on the bed after you had thrown your coat on the floor. You sat up and looked at the two men in front of you. Their auras were so different but very intimidating in their own way, which made your face burn with timidity.

“Y/n,” Felix went closer to you and pulled a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Aren't you just so adorable? Trusting us this fast,” his thumb pressed against your lips to part them and he let out a shaky breath when he came in contact with your tongue. You were so obedient to them. He knew you'd do anything for them if they asked you.

“Don't worry beauté, we'll make sure you have a great time here,” his thumb trailed down your lip as Chris joined you two.

“Consider this your best night in Seoul,” he guided your hands under his shirt for you to feel his abs. Felix kneeled behind you on the bed and unzipped your dress slowly as Chris took his own shirt off. You instinctively spread your legs a little for him and he smirked.

“Feeling needy?” He leaned down to kiss your jaw. “Want us to touch you?” He put a light pressure against your clothed core and you whined, bucking your hips against his fingers. He pulled away and Felix helped you take your dress off, leaving you in your underwear (that you had carefully picked for this occasion). You leaned your head on Felix's shoulder since your back was resting against his chest and his fingers lightly stroked your sides, making your muscles contract.

Chris reached down for your coat and took your cellphone out, opening the camera app and looking at you again. “Can I?” You nodded and one of Felix's hands wrapped around your throat and squeezed softly, making you whine and thrust your hips up into nothing.

“Look at that,” now Chris approached you with the camera directed at you and you looked into it, your eyes half closed due to Felix squeezing your throat lightly. You could feel his other hand resting on your hip bone, knowing he was so close to touching you where you needed it the most made you wetter.

“Spread your legs a little, baby,” before you could even move, he was doing it for you. He zoomed on the small wet patch forming on the fabric of your underwear. It was hard to see, especially on camera, since you were wearing black panties, but Chris could definitely feel it under his thumb. You whimpered and rolled your hips, but Felix pushed them down on the mattress to stop you. “All wet and needy for strangers you met at the club.”

He stepped back a little to get a full view of your body as Felix slipped his hand under the fabric, feeling your wetness and spreading it all over your sex, not forgetting to brush his finger over your clit, making your hips stutter and Felix put more pressure then. Chan was looking at you through the screen of your cellphone and you could see he was smirking. Felix let go of your throat to slide his hand down to your thigh, separating them more and giving a better view to the camera.

“That's a good souvenir for when you go back, don't you think?” You nodded without a second thought as he teased your entrance. You looked down Chris’ body and that's when you saw he was palming himself through his pants and your mouth watered at the sight. You gestured for him to come closer and when he did so, you reached out to undo his pants. You moaned as Felix inserted his finger into you and you paused, Chris taking his pants and boxers off for you, leaving him fully naked in contrast to Felix, who still had all of his clothes on.

“You gonna use that pretty mouth, baby?” He grabbed your chin to make you look up at him, eyes blown with lust and you already looked fucked out only because Felix had been fingering you. You whimpered and nodded, your fingers delicately wrapping around his thick cock and he shivered. Felix decided it would be the right time to slip another finger inside you and you closed your eyes tightly, beginning to stroke the man in front of you.

Chris took one step closer before he stopped filming the video, placing your phone next to you on the bed and he placed your hair behind your shoulders. You noticed Felix was taking a handful of it and the next thing you knew was that he had pulled your head back roughly, making you moan louder and arch your back.

“Use your mouth,” Felix commanded, keeping you in place like this a few seconds before letting go of you. Chris was waiting for you with a small smile and you opened your mouth, showing him your tongue.

“Good girl,” he slapped the tip of his cock on your tongue before you wrapped your lips around him, making his head fall back and a loud, shaky sigh escaped his throat. Felix let go of you and you whined in protest, pretty much muffled by the dick you had in your mouth. You pulled away and replaced your mouth with your hand as you moved to kneel, but you were fast to suck him off again and he chuckled. “You must like pleasing people, yeah?”

You looked up at him as an answer and you heard shuffling behind you. Felix was opening one of his drawers and pulling a condom out of it. He put it on his bedside table as he hurried to take his clothes off, eager to be inside you. Chris moaned as you swirled your tongue around him in a certain way and he grabbed your hair to pull you away, enjoying how your face contorted in both pain and pleasure.

“Can I fuck your mouth? Is that okay with you?

- Yes, please,” you panted, looking at him with half lidded eyes and a small smile playing on your lips. He smiled too and then two hands were firmly on your hips.

“Not so fast,” Felix said, pulling your attention towards him and you looked behind your shoulder when Chris let go of you. “I'm gonna fuck you too. Chris, come on the bed too,” he looked at his friend.

You were now on all fours in between Chris and Felix, mouth occupied with one dick and your pussy being teased with another. Your panties had been slid off just before that change of position and just as Chris had requested, you let him thrust into your mouth to his liking. Felix had the tip of his dick in you, he didn't seem to be willing to move further for now, as if he was concentrating on something else.

That's when he pulled your hair again, making you moan. “She's gonna stay still like this. Use her like that,” Chris nodded and soon hit the back of your throat, making you gag and tears formed at the corners of your eyes. Felix finally sank all the way into you, making your eyes flutter closed and Chris pulled out to let you breathe a little before forcing himself back in your mouth.

They were thrusting at a similar pace, Felix tugging at your hair from time to time as his other hand gripped the soft flesh of your upper thigh. Chris would wipe the occasional tears falling down your eyes and praise you for your good work.

“Pretty girl, making yourself all useful like this. You know you're doing so good for us, right?” He would let out shaky breaths in between sentences because he was close and Felix fucked you harder and faster, leaning his body closer to yours until his head was next to yours. He was still holding you by your hair and he made it known by pulling again, a playful smirk on his face.

“You're making a mess,” he teased as he saw drool falling from your mouth, observing the way your eyes rolled back when he snapped his hips deep in you, making you whimper around Chris and he hummed low. “Keep going,” he kissed your cheeks before straightening up and fucking you properly again, making you grow louder as time passed and Chris’ hips started stuttering. He was also moaning, Felix was more silent but you could hear the occasional groans.

“Gonna cum on your face. Will ruin your pretty makeup even more- fuck,” he pulled out of your mouth and and you showed him your tongue, ready for him with teary eyes. He pumped his cock fast, close to your mouth and it took Felix a few hard thrusts for you to moan out his name and he was cumming. Some of his semen landed on your tongue, but also just under your nose and on your cheek. He was panting so hard as if he had run a marathon and you licked his tip before swallowing. Felix let go of your hair and you moaned, the sensation feeling relieving and you hang your head lower.

“Fuck… Plus v- Faster,” they both took notice of your French and smiled, Felix rubbed your waist softly as he fastened his pace. You were gripping the sheets under you hard and Chris picked your phone again, snapping a few pictures of your state. He also made you look up to take a picture of your ruined makeup, there was still a drop of his cum on your cheek and he wiped it away. “Beautiful.”

Felix flipped you over and Chris held your wrists above your head as his friend continued ruining you further. You were a total mess, as Chris said before, your moans sounding more like screams as Felix's eyes dug holes into your soul. His cock hit just right inside you and Chris’ hold on your wrists tightened as you tried to move them away to hold onto Felix.

“Chris, she's clenching,” he moaned and slowed down a little, you could tell he was as close as you and you rolled your hips, making him pin them down to the bed. “Don't fucking move,” he growled and you moaned again.

Chris was still holding you and he brought your hands closer to his lips, peppering them in kisses as Felix worked for both of your orgasms. Your back arched and your head fell onto Chris’ lap, looking up at him and he smiled against your wrists.

“I'm cumming,” Felix warned as he rubbed your clit rapidly, your eyes filled with tears again because you were so sensitive and you came just before him, the sensation of you clenching around him making him cum just after you. Chris watched the whole scene as he let go of your wrists and he gently massaged your shoulders as you came down from your high.

Felix gave you one last kiss on the cheek before collapsing next to you on the bed, looking up at the ceiling as he took his condom off. He tied it and gave it to Chris for him to throw it into the trashcan and the curly haired man joined you after.

“I didn't know you knew a bit of French,” you looked at Felix who laughed.

“I've learned a little when I was younger. I lost most of it, though.

- Ah,” you looked back at the ceiling too and Chris propped himself up by his elbows.

“It was kinda hot, you know? Like hearing you almost forget your English,” he said and you hid your face in embarrassment. Yeah, this would be one of your best memories in Korea.

#Spotify #skz #stray kids #skz scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #lee felix smut #felix x reader #felix smut #lee felix #felix #bang chan smut #christopher bang #bang chan #christopher bang smut

[howtofightwrite]

Sorry if you’ve already answered this, I’m having trouble finding different posts in your blog.

I know a lot of your asks are more practical-related, but how do you suggest fully encapsulating the horror and tragedy of war in a (fantasy) battle scene? I really need that emotional and gory impact but it also to seem reasonably realistic.

My favourite references are Battle of the Bastards in GoT and scenes from Lord of the Rings.

Thanks!!

Martin and Tolkien are not two authors I’d ever expect to find together when discussing thematic and abstract concepts like the horrors of war in their writing. One of them is extremely deep, and the other is a puddle. Neither of them are particularly “realistic” but only one of them claims that pretense while drawing from real history. If you’re wanting horrors of war, you’re much better off moving away from Martin and taking a gander at the actual War of the Roses.

Let me explain.

Tolkien served as an officer during World War I. By sheer body count, The Great War was one of the most bloody and brutal wars in human history. As a point of reference, over a million soldiers died during the Battle of Somme. Perhaps as importantly, World War I killed the cultural concept of the Summer War. Before World War I, the British upper class viewed war as a game. War was an adventure, something young men did between reaching manhood and getting married. Watson from Sherlock Holmes is an excellent example of the end result for this particular outlook. They figured they’d go off, have some jolly good fun, get a few scars, and be back in a few weeks in time for tea. What they got was a meat grinder. Two of Tolkien’s close friends died during the war. He also lived through the bombings during World War II while working as a professor at Oxford, he experienced the devastating effects that war had on the civilian population first hand, and, likely, saw a few of his students die. Despite his hatred of allegory, the man was working through some shit in The Lord of the Rings.

If you’re interested in learning more about World War I or even about effectively demonstrating the horrors of war, I do recommend reading All Quiet on the Western Front. I read it once in high school (more years ago than I’d like to admit here) and, much like Elie Wiesel, it has stuck with me. It was also such an effective anti-war novel the Nazis banned it and it was one of the first books they publicly burnt, so you know it’s good.

Back to Tolkien.

What they don’t tell you about fantasy is that it’s real life, just with elves and dwarves and magic. The real world forms the foundation of fantasy and it’s the humanity of the emotional experience in war, the good and the bad, with both ends cranked all the way to eleven that really makes Tolkien’s work so impactful. LOTR is operatic by design, but what keeps the narrative from falling into melodrama is the core thematic message underneath the pageantry. One of the major themes is hope, which gets symbolized in light, and hope’s interplay with despair, symbolized in darkness. Not just a rosy view of it either, but the genuine struggle to keep the light burning against all the overwhelming reasons to give up or give in. Tolkien allows his characters to be corrupted and redeemed, their struggle with temptation before ultimately choosing the better path or failing and falling into darkness. He commits to the idea that hope can be restored in the unlikeliest of places.

Boromir’s death is, perhaps, one of the best examples of Tolkien’s philosophy in action. Boromir is a character we’re not sure of, he wants the one ring from the outset, he’s the only one advocating that it shouldn’t be destroyed. The hearts of men are easily corrupted. When he tries to take the ring from Frodo, he falls into his worst instincts and breaks the Fellowship. But then, against the overwhelming flood of Uruk-hai, Boromir tries to save Merry and Pippin. He fights wounded, shot again, and again, until he’s felled by twenty arrows and he fails. Yet, in his failure he restores Aragorn’s hope in his people, gives him a reason to fight for Gondor, and inspires the audience to believe in Man’s potential for greatness.

Tolkien could have left Boromir in the dark, but he didn’t. He could’ve given into cynicism, but he didn’t. In every adaptation, Boromir’s death never fails to get me bawling. Boromir is both good and bad, both dark and light, his best and worst instincts are driven by the same underlying, sympathetic reason—his desire to save his people and fulfill his duty to his father.

On the whole, I find Tolkien’s presentation of the human condition and war to be more compelling and realistic than Martin’s. Tolkien’s underlying themes have more in common with All Quiet on the Western Front, Saving Private Ryan, and HBO’s Band of Brothers. For all that his characters often feel larger than life (by design, he’s telling an epic) there’s always a grounding quality that allows the audience to connect with them. Whether we agree with Tolkien’s core thematic message or not, Tolkien genuinely has something to say about warfare and its effect, both on personal and world changing levels, and he communicates that message very well.

The irony about the “horrors of war” isn’t about the horrors of war. Thematically, the “horrors of war” is about who we choose to become in the face of them when trapped in the crucible. Do we rise to our best selves? Do we fall to our worst? When every illusion about who we believe we are is stripped away, what’s left? It’s an existential question, not a “realistic” one.

You can’t write about the horrors of war in fiction if you have nothing to say about war, humanity, and its effects. All you’ll end up with is gore for shock value. The world becomes hopelessly depressing, and, in the end, all the blood turns brown before it’s finally shat out.

Hi, Martin.

Don’t get me wrong, Martin is a very skilled writer. His prose is genuinely beautiful and his first book in ASOF, A Game of Thrones is actually a pretty decent deconstruction in the traditional fantasy narrative and a fairly realistic treatment of how events would go for the standard well-meaning fantasy protagonist. And that’s… the deepest we get.

Martin comes out of the 24/Joss Whedon death for shock value school of writing and the land of Iron Age comics that doesn’t have anything to really say beyond, “people suck.” Underneath it all is a level of cynicism in the human condition that would make Garth Ennis blush. The deaths are just shock value. There’s nothing more to it than that. Once you’ve acclimated to the gore, there’s nowhere else to go and nothing else to think about. Ironically, out of his contemporaries, Robert Jordan is better at giving both war and death in his narrative lasting effect, driving character growth, and real meaning.

Martin and Tolkien are opposite ends of the spectrum in their approach to war and their outlooks are utterly incompatible. One of them is a complete cynic and the other is facing himself honestly, openly, fearlessly, and without a smidgen of irony. (The true irony here is that the latter is the Englishman.) Following Martin’s blueprint won’t bring you to a Tolkien outcome. Tolkien’s genuine emotion is the subject of mockery in Martin’s world. Season 8 may’ve been clumsy and infuriating, but it was the natural end of Comic Book Iron Age cynicism. There are no good people, people with power can never be trusted, and all heroes, no matter how noble, reveal their true colors as villains in the end. As Christopher Nolan said, “You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain.” This philosophical outlook may be sold as realistic but it’s really just Political Both Sidesism, Fantasy Edition.

The irony is that the real history Martin draws from, The War of the Roses, is simultaneously crueler, kinder, more noble, more horrific, more impactful, and ultimately more hopeful than Martin’s own work. And this was post the Hundred Years War and all the wars that preceded it.

I bring you, the Duality of Man.

If you want to write a realistic battle scene, start with real war. If you want to write about the horrors of war, start with real war. Pick a war, any war, and dig in. Reading the experiences of others is a way to gain insight into experiences you yourself don’t share and start to process the different philosophies born out of those experiences. The horror of war is a human one.

The most important lesson is that you won’t get there by focusing on the battle itself. To truly feel the impact, every character needs to be carefully built from the very beginning with a through line to every horrific event that happens to them. If you want to learn how to do that, then you need to go study every single war movie from good to bad (including the jingoistic rah-rah ones) like Apocalypse Now, Saving Private Ryan, Battle for Iwo Jima, etc, to really start internalizing the underlying storytelling structure and character design formula that makes those films tick. There’s no one better at portraying the horror and humanity of war than the war film industry. Part of what makes the best of these films really good is their willingness to allow their characters to be emotional and vulnerable. Which you won’t find in a lot of fantasy novels that run on machismo, but is the secret sauce that gives Tolkien his impact.

Having the confidence to allow your characters to struggle, be vulnerable, experience humiliating circumstances, and appear weak is an aspect of writing that a lot of men and women struggle with. Cynicism is a form of self-protection to keep those emotions away, to keep one from being emotionally invested, and is a means by which we protect ourselves from being hurt. We may portray cynicism as the more realistic reality but it’s just a cloak we hide behind. Martin’s approach to warfare is less realistic than Tolkien’s. Tolkien’s characters approach warfare with an eye toward protecting their civilians, safeguarding their future, or, in the case of his villains, focus on genocide. War for Tolkien is the eradication of civilization and the destruction of the future. Characters from experienced combatants to innocent civilians are willing to risk their lives for a world and for the people who matter to them. Martin has the Summer War. It’s there in the title, A Game of Thrones. An entertaining charade of musical chairs. And while all of his characters are chasing power, almost none of them have any sort of vision or goal for the future beyond the accumulation of more. In Martin’s world, the only way to truly win is not to play, but in the real world playing is the only way to create the world you want. Cynicism ends with no seats at the table and no means to change or save anything.

It’s funny because England during the War of the Roses had been in a state of near constant warfare for hundreds of years with their own domestic powers and France prior to the War of the Roses kicking off. The concept of a Summer War didn’t really exist for the medieval nobility. Much as we joke today about war being a game for medieval nobles due to their ransom protections, it really wasn’t. The peasantry was also much, much more dangerous en masse than they are in ASOF. They drove traveling monarchs to hide in monasteries plenty of times and, while that’s funny, it’s not actually a joke.

Now, picture Joffrey dragged off his horse in the middle of a riot and having his skull crushed by a local fishwife right before being trampled into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp by sharp hooves.

Or enjoying the Agincourt bathing route.

You’re welcome.

-Michi

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#how to fight write #Michi answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips

[rollingsins]

three's a crowd, part eight

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten (epilogue)

summary: you hadn’t expected this. to fall in love. with not one girl, but two. you hadn’t expected to ruin their friendship. love triangle au. 

pairing: emma myers x reader, jenna ortega x reader

warnings: language, a sprinkle of angst.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: penultimate chapter, thanks all for being patient! finish line in sight!

For the first time in weeks, the set is peaceful. 

No more are the slight jabs from Emma to Jenna. They don’t really talk much, but when they do it’s calm. Emma doesn’t ignore you, she’s even tentatively friendly. She strikes up small talk between takes, joins you and the rest of the cast for game nights and nights out. 

She doesn’t flash about her relationship with Johnna - not like she once did. She isn’t trying to hurt you anymore, or make you jealous. She’s just existing.

It pangs somewhere deep down. 

The fact she doesn’t care enough about you to try and affect your mood anymore. 

But then you remember she’s happy. 

Gone are the surly glares between takes. Gone are the nights spent hate-fucking you into the mattress. Gone is the doubt behind her eyes, the brief glances of insecurity when she’d looked between you and Jenna. 

Now she’s enraptured in Johnna and she looks happy. 

Happier than she was when she was with you, as much as it pains you to admit it. 

She’s smiling at you now, just as the director yells cut. 

She drops her phone to her lap and nudges your shoulder with her elbow. 

“Come over for drinks tonight?” She’s asking, eyes sparkling, “I think Hunter wants to play Uno again.” 

Hunter famously always wants to play Uno. 

He hasn’t won once. But it didn’t stop him drawing out a pack of cards the minute he saw people gathered. 

“Alright.” You say. Uno didn’t sound bad. There’d be enough people to keep you from staring at Johnna and Emma the entire night. Georgie would be there. Maybe even Jenna. 

Your heart flips at the thought. 

Seeing Jenna makes you nervous. 

Things are weird - up in the air. You still have no idea what she’d said to Emma on the balcony, and each day that passes the dots you join in your own head get worse and worse.

“She’s not worth both of us fighting over her,” Says fictionalized Jenna 1. 

“Let’s both dump her and teach her a lesson,” Says fictionalized Jenna 2. 

The other possibilities pass through your mind fleetingly. Maybe nothing had been said, and Emma had just decided herself she was through with you. There’s another possibility - one you don’t even stop to consider. 

The one you want the most… 

But you don’t let yourself dwell. Doubtful Jenna would even want to be friends, anymore. Not after all that’s happened. She hasn’t reached out at all in the last two weeks. Hasn’t hovered, hasn’t done much of anything. 

And the fact that she won’t tell you what was said that night seems to be the final nail in the coffin. 

Georgie sidles over, pulls you from your intrusive thoughts, a stupid grin on his face. 

“Coming to Uno tonight?” He asks, and you nod, peering suspiciously at the look on his face. 

“What’s up with you?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. 

Georgie shrugs, “I’m just happy,” He says. 

“Okay,” You say, “Why?”

“Everything’s good now. We’re playing Uno like old times, love is in the air…” He trails off, raises his eyebrows at you. 

“You got a new girlfriend or something?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. 

Georgie rolls his eyes. 

“No. But you will. Soon.” 

You avert your gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You say.

“I heard she’s coming,” He says, as if he didn’t hear you, “To Uno.” 

You hum. Try and brush past it. 

He doesn’t let you. 

“Come on,” He groans, “I thought we were getting somewhere. It’s been weeks since you and Emma broke up-“ 

“Two weeks,” You correct, “And we didn’t break up, I was dumped.” 

“Who cares,” Georgie says, “There’s no point in wallowing. Other fish in the sea and all.” 

He wags his eyebrows. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. 

“Jenna doesn’t want to date me.” You say, “She doesn’t even want to talk to me lately. It’s like she’s avoiding me or something.” 

Georgie groans. 

“She’s not avoiding you, YN,” He says, sounding aggravated, “She’s trying to give you space so you have time to get over the breakup. I told her it was a bad idea.”

Your stomach churns, uncomfortably. 

“She doesn’t want to be your rebound or something,” He continues, running a hand through his hair, “When you two eventually get together, she wants it to be because of how you feel about her, not about how you feel about Emma.” 

The thought of being with Jenna is strange. Like some far distant dream, that could have once been yours. 

But you’re done with dreams. 

The moment Emma had dumped you, you’d been boiling in the fiery pits of reality. To dream is to hope, and you have none of that left in you. 

You’re too tired. 

“We’re not getting together,”’ You tell him, and you sound a little sad because you are sad, “Things are just- too complicated.” 

Georgie frowns. 

“Don’t say that,” He says, sounding put out. 

“It’s not meant to be,” You say, “If we were meant to be together, things wouldn’t have been so messy. I should have picked her but I didn’t. Now it’s over.” 

Jenna’s standing over with the directors, deep in conversation. She’s dressed in her Wednesday outfit, double braids flowing down her shoulders. 

She looks beautiful. 

She looks out of reach. And she’ll stay that way. You’ve already put the nail in that coffin. 

“You get in your own way, sometimes, you know that?” Georgie says.

“I’m aware.” You say. 

“So stop it,” Georgie urges, “Go talk to her. I’m sure she’d love that. I’m not saying you have to ask her on a date or anything, but don’t close yourself off to the idea-” 

“I’m moving to a plot of land in Colorado,” You tell him, “And I’m never going to be in a relationship again.” 

It’s better for everyone that way. You, a loose canon, safely confined in some faraway place where you could never fire through anyone else’s hearts ever again. 

Georgie peers over at you. 

“Uh-huh.” He says, as though he doesn’t believe it. 

-

Hunter loses Uno. 

Again. 

He’s too good-natured to care. He makes you all play a few rounds, before he gets distracted by Joy waving a tequila bottle in his face. 

Your mood - although you’re trying to mask it - is a little glum. 

Georgie tries to perk you up, but you’ve reached the depressive part of your breakup, and there isn’t much he can do. He flits between you and Jenna, as if trying to act as the bridge that brings the two of you together but it doesn’t work. 

Jenna’s on edge, you’re depressed and eventually he just gives up. Wanders off to the kitchen to pour himself another Vodka Soda.  

Emma and Johnna are sitting next to each other, quietly chatting. They’re not touching, but you know it’s just for you. You can tell by the way they’re angled towards each other. Emma’s fingers keep jerking slightly, like she wants to reach out and touch Johnna. 

But she doesn’t. Because she knows you’re watching. 

It’s sweet, kind of, and it makes you want to down the rest of Hunter’s tequila and fall asleep in his bathtub. 

Or - throw yourself off the balcony. 

The bathtub is occupied - Georgie’s passed out again - so you excuse yourself to the balcony, suck in the cool air of the night and try hard not to think about anything. 

You’d be home soon, with your friends, with your family. You’d forget about this place, these people. 

You’d forget about your little summer of shooting a show and breaking hearts and feeling the worst pain you’d ever felt in your life. 

It’d be like a dream. A horrible, awful, fever dream you’d never want to have again. 

The sound of the door sliding open draws your attention. 

You assume it’s Georgie, awoken from his bathtub nap and on a quest to see how much he can annoy you in the span of his next conscious hours. 

But it’s not him. 

It’s Jenna. 

She hovers by the door, hand gripping it a little too tight. Her eyes are a little guarded, she tilts her head and offers you the smallest smile. 

“Hey.” She says, “Mind if I join you?” 

You blink, suddenly feeling foggy. And mesh of booze and emotions finally spilling over. Your heart leaps at the sight of her, thuds so embarrassingly loud you’re sure she can hear it. 

“Of course.” You say. 

She nods, but doesn’t move over too quickly. She’s had a bit to drink too, you can tell by the red flush on her cheeks. 

Awkwardly, you grip the railing of the balcony, and look out into the night sky. The stars sparkle back at you, pretty, but Jenna’s eyes shine brighter than all of them. They’re watching you, no pretense. She’s staring, unabashed. 

It makes the tips of your ears redden. 

“How are you?” She asks, voice even. She joins you against the railing, rests her arms against the metal, head tilted towards you. 

Awful, you want to answer, but you don’t. For her, you can pretend. 

“Fine,” You say. You play with the hem of your shirt, “How are you?” 

“Okay.” Is all she says. 

You chew your lip. Listen to the sounds of the party inside, raging on. You tilt your head back, wonder if anyone has seen the two of you out here. As if it’s some illicit little gathering, and not just the two of you staring at the stars and not knowing what to say to each other. 

Georgie has seemingly awoken from his slumber -  he and Joy are chugging beers by the sofa. Hunter has a lampshade over his eyes, four tequila’s deep. Emma and Johnna are kissing, softly in the corner. You stare for a moment. Something washes over you, but it isn’t jealousy. 

You don’t know what it is. 

FOMO, maybe. 

You take a long sip of your drink and draw your attention back to Jenna. 

She looks beautiful, as ever. Minimal makeup. She’s dressed in a pair of cargo pants and an old sweater. She’s looking at you, bottom lip between her teeth. 

Like she’s nervous. 

Her eyes dart over to where you’d been looking. They’ve parted now, but Emma’s still holding her hand. She’s smiling, laughing at something Johnna’s said. 

“They seem happy,” Jenna says. 

“They do.” 

Jenna fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Emma deserves to be happy,” She says, voice soft. 

You shoot another look at Emma. Her pretty smile, wide blue eyes. The FOMO is back. You wish she’d been enough for you. You wish you could have made her happy, instead of whatever the fuck you made her. Jealous. Insecure. Hateful. Vengeful. 

But she’s back now, sweet Emma. Happy Emma. Not-in-a-relationship-with-you Emma. 

They way it maybe should have always been. 

“She does.” You say. 

Jenna looks over at you. You look away, not wanting to meet her gaze. You’d forgotten the way she stares. No shame, not a care if it made you uncomfortable. She’s like a human x-ray, trying to decipher your emotions with a blink of her eyes. 

“So do you,” Jenna says.

You fall quiet. Dancing Queen blares over the speakers. You watch as Hunter grabs Emma and Johnna, drags them laughing over to an impromptu dance floor. 

This is what you’d thought being a part of this cast would be like. Fun. Laughter. 

Instead, you got heartbreak and depression. And no one to blame but yourself. 

“Georgie told me you’re planning on moving to Colorado and becoming a nun.” 

You frown. Finally look over to her. 

“I don’t think that’s exactly what I said.” You say. 

Jenna smiles, a little. She brushes the hair out of her eyes. 

“You’d be a cute nun,” She offers, “But I don’t think it’s your calling.” 

You hum. 

“You’re just saying that because you want to get into my Tunic.” You say. 

She snorts. 

She lifts her drink to her lips, eyes sparkling. You relax slightly. A risky joke, maybe, but it had been enough to break the tension. 

“Georgie also told me I should stop giving you space,” She says, quietly. “I think his exact words were ‘Get up off the ground and fight.’”

“Sounds like Georgie,” You say.

Your heart is back to trying to pound itself out of your chest. The blood rushes to your ears the way it always does when you have conversations like this. Your eyes drop to your glass, suddenly very interested in your ice cubes. 

Her stare doesn’t relent. 

“He said you thought it was too messy.” 

“It is too messy.” You say. 

She’s quiet for a moment. You half think she’s going to shrug and head back inside. 

It’s what she’d do if she were smart. It’s what she’d do if you got what you deserved. But she doesn’t. She leans slightly against the railing, edging only slightly closer to you. Her shoulders brush your bare arm. 

The tiny touch makes your palms sweat. You gulp back the lump in your throat. 

“Just because it’s messy doesn’t mean it isn’t right.” She says. 

It’s getting harder to pretend you don’t want to look at her. Your head tilts up, slightly to meet her gaze. 

She’s biting her lip. Her brown eyes are wide, earnest, like she’s trying to convince you of something. 

You’ve not seen her like this before, so unguarded. She’s careful with every word, like she’s on a tightrope, one wrong sentence will send her toppling into a pit of rejection. 

She swallows. 

“I know you just ended it with Emma only a couple of weeks ago and I don’t expect anything. I’m not trying to swoop in like… a crow on a dead carcass or anything, I just-” She trails off, “I don’t know. I think we’re like- meant to be together or something.” 

You blink. 

For the first time all night she averts her gaze, as if her own words have suddenly made her shy. 

You look at her for a moment. Bashful smile on her lips but worry in her eyes. Like you’ll reject her. 

As if she’s not saying exactly what you want to hear. 

You open your mouth, then close it again. The blood rushing to your head has made you a little dizzy, her intense gaze not helping. You fumble, slightly, trying to find the right words. 

Yes, you idiot! Scream your brain, tell her yes, you’re meant to be and you’ll have a dog and a farm and raise five kids together in Colorado. 

But there’s something else. 

Something you want to know. Something you’ve been dying to know.  

“Is that what you told Emma?” You ask, tilting your head, heart in your throat, “That night on the balcony? You told her you and I were meant to be together?”

She pauses. Something in her eyes flickers. She sucks in her breath slightly, and now she’s the one of edge. 

“I told her- she asked me-“

She’s stumbling over her words. It’s strange. You’ve never seen her this un-composed. Her eyes dart away, like she can’t look you in the eyes when she tells you. 

“I told her I was falling in love with you.” 

You blink. 

“Oh.” 

She lets out a shaky breath, looks into your eyes, hers mournful. The bass thumps, though you’re not entirely sure it’s not her heartbeat. 

She swallows. 

“Emma asked me. She straight up asked and I couldn’t lie, YN,” She says, voice quiet. She’s blinking a lot. Wetting her lips every few seconds, “And I know it’s why she broke up with you and I’m sorry that I cost you your relationship-”

“No you’re not,” You say. You lean over the edge of the balcony railing, voice calm, “You’re not sorry she dumped me. You’re glad she dumped me.” 

She blinks. 

“YN-”

“It’s okay,” You say, “You can admit it. I’m not angry.” 

She just stares back at you. 

“I think you did everyone a favor,” You say. Your gaze draws back to Emma and Johnna, cuddled up on the sofa, “I mean - they’re happy. Johnna makes her happier than I ever could.” 

“And you and me?” She asks, after a moment. Her voice is weighted, only a little hopeful, like she’s trying to manage her expectations. 

You pause for a painful moment. 

“I should have picked you,” You murmur, “That night by the pool. I felt it and I got scared. I should have picked you.” 

Something flickers in her eyes. Panic. She blinks it away before you can be sure. She seizes your hands with her own, tugs you a little closer to her. 

“So pick me now,” Jenna says, voice urgent, “I know you feel it too. It’s like fate. Or the stars all aligning or some other bullshit I don’t believe in. Except I believe in it now because I’ve felt it. I’ve felt you.” 

She’s close, so close you can make out the freckles dotted along her nose. Her eyes are desperate, her grip on you is tight. 

You don’t speak, a moment. The music hums heavy, the sounds of laughter coming from the apartment. There’s a screech of laughter. Someone calls out Hunter’s name. But you don’t pay them any mind. 

Your eyes are on Jenna. Jenna and her pretty eyes, Jenna and her constellation of freckles. Jenna and her vanilla body wash. Jenna and her lips, so plump, so red. So kissable. 

Jenna. 

Her eyes are dipping down, between your lips and your eyes and then back to your lips. Like a magnet, or a moth to a flame. 

Her eyes are so dark, impossibly wide, and her lips part only slightly. Her hands brush yours. She’s looking at you like she wants to pin you against the balcony railing and never let you go. Your heart thumps. 

You want her just as bad. Colorado be damned, Emma be damned, single life be damned. 

All you want is her. 

You’d tell her, but you’re not given the chance. 

The full weight of her body hits you hard. She lurches at you like she can’t hold back anymore. Her hands tangle in your hair, seizing your neck between her fingertips so she can pull you down to her lips. 

Your eyes flutter closed. She isn’t soft. She’s needy and charged and desperate. Her hands knot through your long hair, keeping you in place. You’ve only tasted her like this a few times but it feels just as wonderful as the first. She moans slightly against your mouth, all breathy gasps and quiet groans from just kissing. It makes you ache. You want her so bad you can hardly breathe. 

Her tongue slips between your lips as she pushes you against the railing. You kiss for what must be minutes, the hum of the party forgotten, not a care who’s watching.  

When she pulls away, her eyes are black with lust, her lips swollen. She nudges her nose against yours and squeezes your hips, desire in her eyes. 

“Let’s get out of here.” She murmurs.

next part

#three's a crowd #love triangle fic #fanfic #mine #jenna ortega #wednesday #emma myers #jenna ortega x reader #emma myers x reader #jenna ortega x you #emma myers x you

[justcallme-ange]

Alright I'm putting this out there because I don't have time to draw it - so do with it what you will. (Also I stole this idea from a fic I was reading for a different fandom - so I take no credit for the original idea) Anyway the idea was just a small snippet where Techno get really injured, like potions aren't enough and he's out for a while. And Dream is absolutely destroyed because Techno had been protecting him, and also they had just declared they loved each other. They'd been secretly kinda sorta dating and they were planning on making it official and then everything went to crap. The Syndicate manages to get them out, but Techno's essentially in hibernation to recover and it's been a few weeks. Dream's been spending all his time by Techno's side while the rest of the gang has been in shifts. They're worried for Techno but also for Dream because he isn't really eating or sleeping. One day Phil sits down with Dream saying: "Talk to me." And Dream does - tells him about everything that happened how he's afraid that he's a bad boyfriend, how he couldn't protect Techno, how Techno's been the one carrying everything and how Dream wishes he could be better. "Techno's more of a romantic than me - and that's a problem because I don't feel like I show him how much I really love him." And then Dream breaks down crying, "He looks at me like no one else has ever- and I'm so afraid he's not gonna wake up." And with a pleading look at Phil he tucks himself into Phil's arms sobbing. "I want him to look at me like that again." Of course Techno wakes up (I couldn't do that to my poor boy), also he heard everything, the two reunite and Dream tells him he loves him and that he's sorry and Techno reassures him that he's got nothing to be sorry about and he loves him too- they're a mess for a while. But it's a happy ending.

#c!dnb #dreamnoblade #I got inspired by one line #and I had to do something #but I can't draw it because I literally have like 15 projects in the works #so here is writing

[primaviva]

blue christmas; león kennedy

featuring. leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis. you’ll have a blue christmas without leon, or will you?

warnings. minor angst, mostly fluff. also my first leon fic! (i’m terrified)

once again, it was christmas time, a season meant for cherished togetherness. the air was supposed to be filled with the warmth of loved ones, snuggled in front of a crackling fire, adorning the tree together, relishing in the joy of classic christmas movies, and immersing themselves in the enchanting spirit of the holidays.

but for you, that idyllic scene remained elusive—something you never quite experienced when dating an agent.

leon, your boyfriend, was constantly thrown into classified missions, shrouded in secrecy. there were times he couldn't even disclose the nature of his work, which meant you were well aware that a festive christmas break wasn't likely to be granted amidst his tireless efforts of dismantling organizations and gathering crucial intelligence.

during moments like these, you sought solace in solitude, confronting your sadness directly. you declined all invitations for plans during the final week leading up to christmas. a glimmer of hope remained that he would be present, and you wanted to ensure ample time to be with him. however, a sense of unease lingered, drawing you to want you to reject the idea of spending the holiday with anyone other than him and your family.

with a heavy sigh, you reluctantly left your warm bed, resigning yourself to the familiar routine of tending to daily errands and tidying up the house. nestling into the couch, you absentmindedly flipped through the channels, the repetitive christmas movies playing for the fifth time that week. then, a buzzing sound breaks the monotonous atmosphere.

your heart leaped with joy as you saw exactly who was calling. it was leon.

his calls were infrequent during his missions, making each one a precious and treasured moment. you never knew when you would get to hear his voice again, so you answered eagerly, your giddy anticipation evident in your high-pitched voice as you called out, "leon?" through the speaker.

"hey there, beautiful," leon's voice comes through the speaker, warm and familiar. "i hope i didn't catch you at a bad time."

a radiant smile illuminated your face as you responded, "no, not at all. there's not much to do anywhere with this snowstorm anyway." your gaze drifted towards the window, captivated by the swirling white fog gliding over the water, the snowflakes dancing amidst the relentless gusts of wind, their delicate forms adhering to the windowpane. "i’m about to binge another round of christmas movies," you added, a touch of wistfulness in your voice. "so, what's on your mind, leon?"

there's a slight pause on the other end, and you can almost hear him hesitating before he speaks again. "listen, i know it's christmas eve and all, and i hate that i can't be there with you. but this mission... it’s longer than i expected."

your heart sinks at his words, disappointment flooding your system. this was the same story every year, but it still hurt to hear it. "oh, leon," you say, trying to hide the disappointment in your tone. you were always polite with your sadness, like a little kid not wanting to deliver bad news, you didn’t want to ruin him because of yourself. "i was really looking forward to spending christmas with you. but i understand, duty calls, right?"

there's a tinge of sadness in his voice as he responds, "yeah, duty calls. i promise i'll make it up to you when i get back. we'll have our own little belated christmas celebration, just the two of us."

you can't help but let out a small chuckle. "you better make it a good one, kennedy. maybe i'll even let you take over the cooking for once," you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

leon's laughter comes through the phone, and you can almost picture the playful smile on his face. "deal. just don't expect anything gourmet, okay?"

as you two continue your conversation, your disappointment slowly fades away. even though you won't have him physically by your side for christmas, knowing that he's safe and that you’ll have your own celebration when he returns brings you comfort. and in the end, that's all that matters.

that was the mindset you had to have—enjoy the moments you have with him, even when it seems to be few.

you giggled at his joke. “y’know for an italian, aren’t you supposed to know how to cook? kinda embarrassing if you ask me,” you tease, snuggling yourself into the blanket as you hear a low chuckle of his from the phone.

leon's chuckle grows louder on the other end of the line. "hey now, i never claimed to be a master chef. i've got other talents, you know," he retorts playfully.

"oh, is that so? and what other talents might those be?" you ask, feigning curiosity.

"well, for one, i can take down a horde of zombies with my eyes closed. i can make some pretty funny jokes if i do say so myself," he replies, coated in sarcasm. "oh, and let's not forget my impeccable ability to make you smile, even from miles away."

you can't help but laugh at his response, as corny as it is. it's true, leon has a way of making the toughest situations bearable with his humor, even with the dad jokes. "well, i guess i can forgive your lack of culinary skills then. just make sure you're ready to put on your apron when you're back, alright?"

"i'll do my best, but no promises," he states, amusement clear in his tone. "but hey, i've got a surprise for you when i get back. something i think you'll love."

your curiosity piques at his words. "oh really? now you got me curious. what is it?" you ask, unable to contain my excitement.

leon lets out a mischievous chuckle. "sorry, babe, can't spoil the surprise. you'll just have to wait and find out."

you groan, pretending to be disappointed. "you're such a tease, leon. but i guess i'll have to be patient."

"patience is a virtue, my love," he replies, his voice filled with warmth. "just a little longer, and then we can have our own christmas celebration, complete with whatever surprise i have in store for you."

you grin, feeling a surge of anticipation. "i can't wait. just make sure you come back to me in one piece, alright?"

"you got it. i'll be home soon. i love you," he promises, his voice filled with sincerity.

"i love you too, leon. stay safe," you reply, bringing the phone closer to your ear to hear every tone of his.

despite the disappointment of not being able to spend christmas together, you know that seeing leon after will make it all worth it. and for now, you’ll hold on to that thought, eagerly awaiting his return.

as the beep resonated from your phone, signaling the end of the call, a harsh reality settled in, causing you to slump back into the couch. despite the excitement of hearing from him, the sting of loneliness remained. you pondered whether leon truly understood the weight of your solitude, yet hesitated to voice your feelings, fearing it would burden him with guilt or worry amidst his own demanding circumstances. after all, he must be grappling with his own shit.

rising from the couch, you made your way to the christmas tree, reaching down behind it to plug the lights back into the socket. a growing smile adorned your face as the warm glow illuminated the room.

the christmas tree stood tall and proud in the corner of the room, its branches reaching upward like outstretched arms. it was adorned with an array of ornaments, each one holding a special significance and memory. the lights, now aglow, cast a soft, warm radiance that enveloped the tree, casting playful shadows on the surrounding walls. the branches were adorned with a delightful assortment of decorations, ranging from delicate glass baubles to whimsical handmade trinkets. shimmering silver and gold balls mingled with vibrant red and green ornaments, a harmonious blend of colors that captured the essence of the holiday season you adored. nestled among the branches were strands of sparkling tinsel, something that leon claimed to hate on trees but so desperately wanted to put on yours, that caught the light and added a touch of magic to the scene. handcrafted paper snowflakes, carefully cut and strung with thread, dangled delicately, evoking the whimsy of winter's first snowfall. at the very top of the tree, a glittering star shone brilliantly, serving as a guiding light to illuminate the room and symbolize the hope and joy of the season. leon had held you up on his shoulders for you to get that very star up there.

as you gazed upon the tree, its beauty and the memories it held washed over you, reminding you of how you and leon had happily adorned this tree together just a couple of weeks ago. now, you stood before it alone. you physically felt the silence of his hands wrapped around your waist as you peered up at the star, his chin on your shoulder as his breath hit your neck whilst whispering sweet nothings.

another sigh escaped your lips as you acknowledged the familiar reality of how your holiday was going to pan out.

determined not to dwell on it indefinitely, you pushed aside the melancholy and headed to the kitchen to prepare your breakfast. you knew that allowing yourself to be consumed by these emotions all day would not serve you well.

as you make your way to the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. leon always made sure to set the coffee maker the night before, a small gesture that never failed to bring a smile to your face. but the smile wasn’t on your face, as he wasn’t here the night before or the nights before that. everything in your home seemed like an echo chamber of leon. though the house feels empty without leon's presence, you remind yourself that it's just temporary. he's out there, doing what he does best, and you couldn't be prouder of him. you know that his work is important, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

you pour yourself a cup, savoring the familiar taste and warmth. you grab a couple of eggs from the fridge and start preparing a simple breakfast. as you crack the eggs into the pan, you can't help but remember the times you’ve cooked together, laughing and joking around in the kitchen. you can still find joy in the small moments, even if it's just making breakfast for yourself. you turn on some music, filling the kitchen with some christmas classics, and start humming along as you cook.

as you sit down at the table, enjoying your breakfast, you glance at the calendar on the wall. christmas day is just around the corner, and you can't help but feel a twinge of excitement. soon enough, even if you hate how it is now, leon will be home.

you refuse to let the loneliness consume you. after finishing your breakfast, you clean up the kitchen and decide to fill your day with activities that can lift you up. whether it's going for a walk, reading a book, going on youtube for endless hours, hanging out with a friend, or even just watching more christmas movies, you’ll make the most of this day.

speaking of a friend, one of your friends had invited you to a christmas eve party a couple of days ago. however, at that time, you were deeply immersed in your emotions and sought solace in your own sorrows of being alone. but now, you've reached a turning point. the time for crying and being consumed by your emotions has passed.

you grab your phone and swiftly send a text to your friend, inquiring if the party is still happening. after a brief moment, you receive a reply confirming that the party is indeed taking place.

a surge of excitement rushes through you as you realize that attending the party would serve as the perfect distraction. it's an opportunity to spend time with friends, indulge in a drink or two, embrace the stupid holiday festivities, and momentarily let you forget the absence of leon.

as night fell, you wasted no time in preparing for the occasion. slipping into a stunning, curve-hugging short red dress, you embraced the perfect color for the festive season. its vibrant hue radiated celebration and joy. accompanied by elegant heels, every step exuded glamour.

attention to detail was paramount, so you meticulously selected accessories to complete your ensemble. your signature hoops and rings adorned your ears and fingers, adding a personal touch of style. but you didn't stop there. to harmonize with the season, you chose a few matching bracelets, flawlessly complementing the red dress.

turning your focus to your face, you skillfully applied makeup in a warm, natural palette, harmonizing with the enchanting christmas theme. subtle earthy tones accentuated your features, while a hint of shimmer on your eyelids added a touch of festive sparkle. a sweep of lip gloss provided a luscious glow, completing the radiant look.

before stepping out, you took a moment to enhance your curls. with a touch of product, you breathed new life into your locks, giving them refreshed volume that cascaded gracefully around your shoulders.

now fully prepared, you were ready to embrace the night, exuding confidence and capturing the spirit of the occasion.

with a sense of finality, you diligently switched off all the lights, the stove, and the remaining appliances. as the last item on your checklist, you knelt down to unplug the christmas tree, a tinge of melancholy tugging at the corners of your lips as you observed the once-bright lights flicker and fade into darkness. retrieving your keys from the coffee table, you approached the front door and closed it with a resolute click, sealing the chapter of your time within.

as you stepped out into the night, a cool breeze greeted you, whispering a farewell as you pressed the button on your car keys. a satisfying beep resonated from your vehicle, parked diligently in front of your house, punctuating the moment. slipping into the comforting embrace of the front seat, you took a moment to gather yourself, preparing to start the car.

as you make your way to the address, the air is filled with the lively sound of remixed holiday music and laughter. instantly, your energy shifts, and you feel a surge of excitement as you prepare to join the festivities.

upon entering, you find the party in full swing, with vibrant decorations adorning every corner and the delightful hum of friends and acquaintances mingling. across the room, you spot your friend, who eagerly waves you over with a warm smile.

twinkling lights illuminate every room, casting a warm, festive glow. garlands and wreaths, adorned with pinecones, holly berries, and shimmering ornaments, grace the walls and banisters, emanating the scent of fresh pine. the fireplace crackles with a cozy fire, casting dancing shadows on the walls. tables are adorned with holiday-themed centerpieces, featuring arrangements of poinsettias, candles, and miniature winter scenes. delicate snowflake decorations dangle from the ceilings, creating a whimsical atmosphere. everyone arrived dressed in their holiday best. other girls such as yourself don elegant cocktail dresses in rich colors, such as deep reds, emerald greens, and shimmering golds. some opt for fashionable jumpsuits or tailored pantsuits, exuding sophistication and style. the men present sport sharp suits or smart casual attire, complemented by festive touches like velvet blazers or patterned ties.

as you immerse yourself into the party, a profound sense of belonging washes over you. the room echoes with laughter, shared stories that make you blush, and an all-encompassing festive atmosphere. the night unfolds with drinks being passed around, party games igniting the atmosphere, and an abundance of delicious food and desserts to satisfy your cravings. witnessing spontaneous moments like people taking shots of coquito from another's belly button brings a carefree and joyful spirit to the occasion, exactly the kind of fun you needed.

in this lively setting, you let loose, embracing the merriment, and allowing yourself to simply revel in the happiness of the present moment.

as the night draws to a close, you say your goodbyes, feeling a little uplifted. the party had been a perfect distraction, you just dreaded going home to the silence you once shared with your lover.

you smile gratefully at your friend, feeling the warmth the her hug she encases you in. "thank you," you say sincerely. "i really did need this. it was a great distraction, and i had so much fun."

her embrace reminds you of the support and understanding that you have in your life. it's moments like these that make you appreciate the importance of having people to lean on.

returning her hug, you express your gratitude once more. "i'm lucky to have a friend like you. thanks for inviting me and being there for me. it means a lot."

“of course, don’t stress it,” she replies nonchalantly. as she walks you to your car, talking as much as you can before you have to go astray, eventually you part ways with her.

you slip into your car, starting the engine as you embark on the journey back home. the anticipation of returning to the quiet solitude of the house weighs heavily on you. eventually, you navigate through the drive-through and park your car, eager to reach the front door swiftly, mindful of the cold creeping up your bare legs, accentuated by your short dress. with haste, you insert the key into the lock, feeling a sense of relief as the door swings open. stepping inside, you swiftly turn to lock the door behind you, the click of the lock providing a small measure of comfort.

rubbing your tired eyes, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the day, you fumble to flip the light switch, craving the clarity of illumination. as the room floods with light, your senses jolt awake at the sight of someone familiar, causing you to momentarily snap out of your weariness.

“leon?” you voice, taken aback by his appearance.

leon stands in the middle of the living room, a mischievous smile on his face. he holds up a bouquet of flowers and a small gift, his eyes filled with warmth and excitement. he looks at you, his voice dripping with charm.

"surprise," he murmurs, a smile forming at the side of his mouth as he spoke. "i couldn't stay away for christmas after all."

your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him, unable to believe that he's actually here. the exhaustion and dread you felt just moments ago vanish, replaced by an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief.

you rush towards him, your eyes welling up with tears as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. "leon! i can't believe it! you're really here!" you exclaim, hands practically shaking from the withdrawals of him not being in your grasp for what seemed like months on end.

he holds you close, his embrace reassuring and comforting. "i wanted to surprise you, beautiful," he says softly, his voice filled with affection. "i finished my mission earlier than expected, and there was no way i wasn’t coming back home to you the minute it ended."

you pull back slightly, your eyes searching his face, still in disbelief. "but... how? when did you even...?"

he chuckles, his piercing midnight blue gaze never leaving yours. "i made all the arrangements i needed to keep it a secret. i wanted to see the look on your face when you walked in and found me here."

that was just code for him that he probably drove here early and parked the car a block or four down so you wouldn’t bat an eye at it appearing mysteriously in the driveway which would give his little plan away. a mixture of awe, joy, and gratitude washes over you. you feel truly blessed to have someone like leon in your life, someone who goes above and beyond to make you happy.

"i can't believe you did this," you repeat, beginning to sound like a broken record. "you've truly outdone yourself, leon kennedy."

there it goes, his name leaving your lips once again. nothing made him more tender than hearing you say his name. leon smiles, his eyes twinkling with affection. "you know i would do anything for you."

basking in the joy of being reunited, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment and love.

"i really thought i would be spending another christmas alone this year," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight. stepping back from the embrace, you allowed yourself a moment to fully absorb the sight before you, taking in every detail of leon.

leon's eyes soften as he looks at you, understanding and empathy shining through. "i'm sorry you had to feel that way, my love," he expressed gently, his voice filled with sincerity. "i never want you to feel alone, especially during the holidays."

he takes a step closer, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "i know how much this time of year means to you, and i wanted to make sure it was special. you deserve all the love and happiness in the world, and i want to be the one to give it to you."

you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against your skin. "you've already made my christmas just by being here," you reply, voice laced with gratitude. "i can't even put into words right now how much it means to me."

he smiles, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "you don't have to say anything. seeing your smile and knowing that i could surprise you like this is enough for me. i love you, and i'll always be here for you, no matter what."

you reach up to hold his hand against your face, savoring the moment and the love that surrounds you both. "i love you too, leon."

as you stand there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you can’t help but nuzzle yourself closer to him as if in one blink he’d be gone again.

you peer over to the flowers he had put down to hold you, and next to it a small box. “what’s that pretty little thing you got wrapped?” you inquire.

leon grins mischievously, now holding up the small gift box for you to see. "ah, this? well, that's a little something i picked up for you," he states playfully.

curiosity piqued, you eagerly reach out to take the box from him, as you carefully untie the ribbon and open the lid, revealing a delicate piece of jewelry nestled inside.

"it's a necklace," leon explains, his tone prideful as he was proud to come up with this gift for you. "i saw it and immediately thought of you. i added a little something too, look inside."

you delicately lift the necklace from its cushioned bed, admiring the intricate design and the way it catches the light. your fingertips grace the metal edge of the pendant as you flip it open, revealing a familiar photo of you and leon within. you instantly recognized the photo, a flood of memories rushing back as your eyes fell upon the familiar image. it captured leon perfectly, dressed in his black suit and tie, a visual testament to the moment he officially became an agent after his time as a cop in raccoon city—a chapter of his life that was cut short, to say the least. but your connection with leon had transcended those challenging times, as you had been together even before his days as an agent.

“so you always have me with you when i’m away,” he explains, his eyes creasing a bit from the smile on his face as he studies your features. “do you like it?”

it’s not like you could hear what he was saying as all the background noise felt like muffled echoes as you fixated on the image before you.

"it's beautiful, leon," you whisper, fighting the tears that threaten to trickle down your cheeks. "thank you. i love it."

he comes closer, rubbing the sides of your arms. "i'm glad you like it. i know it doesn’t replace the real thing, and it’s nowhere near close to,” leon affirmed, a laugh escaping his lips from referring to himself so highly. “but it’s something. and if it makes you happy, then i’m happy.”

with a gentle gesture, he extended his hand, delicately draping the necklace around your neck. the weight of the pendant against your skin sent a tingling sensation, as if it carried a significance beyond its physical presence. standing behind you, he carefully lowered it onto your chest, his touch evoking a sense of tenderness and affection. as the clasp secured the necklace, you swiftly turned around, your eyes meeting leon's.

in that fleeting moment, specific emotion could only describe how you felt—love. love for the person standing before you. the necklace settled into its rightful place, a symbol of the connection between your hearts, and you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings.

leaning in, you press a soft kiss against his lips, your heart beating so hard against your chest you feel it might burst. "thank you for everything, leon. you truly are the best gift i could ever ask for."

you go to hug him one more time. leon holds you tightly in his arms, savoring the warmth of your body against his—a sensation he hasn’t felt in a while. "and you are the best gift i could ever ask for too," he replied, touching your heart as corny as it appeared. "being with you is all i need."

you remain intertwined in a tender embrace, savoring the preciousness of the moment and the profound love that envelops you both. as you nestle into each other, you can sense leon's arms enveloping you tighter, his hands gently pressing against the small of your back, conveying a depth of longing and affection that words could never fully capture. in that tranquil moment, you find solace in the knowledge that your connection is unbreakable, and that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

as leon's gaze shifts to the clock, his eyes follow each passing second until it finally strikes twelve, signaling the arrival of christmas. with utmost tenderness, he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his affectionate gesture filling the room with warmth and love. his voice, as soft and delicate as the snowflakes that dance outside, gently breaks the silence of the room.

"merry christmas, my love," he whispers, his words spoken with a delicate care that wraps around you like a cozy blanket. the air seems to get warmer as he continues, "let's make this one to remember."

and as the joy of the season filled your heart, you knew that this year, your christmas would be anything but blue.

#🎄— dalia’s xmas navigation 2023 #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon x reader #leon x you #leon x y/n #resident evil leon #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fluff #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy re4 #re leon #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n

[amhrosina]

Your Pretty Heart (Billy Russo x f!Reader)

A/N: Anyone else widely obsessed with Pedro Pascal and The Last of Us right now? Being back in my Pedro era feels like getting home after a long ass trip. Should I write for some of Pedro's characters?? SOS! Also, I hit 800 followers today??? Like what??? Thank you to everyone who supports me and this account!!

Request: ex’s to lovers with Billy Russo or Matt Murdock. Where Frank and Karen “help” Billy/Matt get their ass together to get back with Reader. Because come on their clearly still in lovee. 

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: When you and Billy break up, Karen takes it upon herself to get you back together. Her plan comes to a head one night at Josie’s, and you and Billy must face the consequences of loving and leaving one another. 

(Warnings: so much angst, cursing, Billy is a soft!boy at heart, soft!Billy, descriptions of smut (but like romantic descriptions, not graphic ones??), I think that’s it, it’s literally just really sad until the end lol) 

“You look great.” Your date smiled, but he wasn’t looking at your face. Instead, for the third time in less than a minute, his eyes trailed the sloping curve of your cleavage as it disappeared into your dress. You shrugged his gaze off, hoping there was at least something interesting about him to keep you entertained for the evening. Something could be there. Deep, deep, down, but there, nonetheless.  

“So, Brad, what do you do for work? When Karen set this up, she didn’t tell me much about you.” 

“I’m an accountant.”  

Brad nodded his head along with yours, an awkward bob as you waited for him to return the question. He didn’t, instead choosing to fix his gaze on the jazz singer across the restaurant. Zero for two, Brad. 

“Do you, uh, have any hobbies?” You tried again to break the conversation dam, but Brad’s attention was so far away from the table you were sharing that he barely glanced at you when he responded. 

“I jog sometimes.” 

“Oh!” You lurched forward, desperate to grab onto anything that might make this date less awkward. “I like to jog, too. I’ll listen to books when I do it to pass the time. Do you read at all?” 

Brad’s eyes flicked to yours, then back to the jazz singer. Uninterested, bored, and inconvenienced. That’s what his glance told you. 

“People who need books or music when they run aren’t capable of self-reflection. It’s how you grow as a human being, you know? You should try it.”  

You blinked. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? A pompous, arrogant, prick seemed like the winning description, and you chuckled as you looped your purse handle over your shoulder. 

“Well, Brad.” You stood from your seat, drawing his attention away from the band. “Congratulations. You win. I think this is quite possibly the worst date I’ve ever been on, and that’s saying a lot.” 

You didn’t deem him with an explanation as you exited the restaurant, but a vivid memory flashed in your mind of Billy standing you up on your anniversary last year. Yeah, that date was terrible, but at least Billy hadn’t insulted you after standing you up. He’d spent weeks apologizing with flowers, jewelry, and even cutting down on his time at Anvil so he could spend more time with you, but that date would always stick out in your mind as the beginning of the end.  

You shook the thoughts from your head, digging through your purse to find your cellphone. Karen was going to explain where the fuck she met this guy, and why she thought setting him up with you would be a good idea. She picked up on the second ring. 

“Karen.” You tapped your foot on the sidewalk. “What the fuck?” 

“Hey! How was the date?”  

Wherever Karen was, it was loud. You could barely understand her through the speaker, muffled by music and what sounded like a crowd of people in the background.  

“The date was so bad.” You almost whined. Almost stomped your foot at how unfair the dating world had become. Almost thought about how much easier it was when you were with Billy. “Where did you even meet this guy?” 

“At work. Was he an asshole?” She sounded apologetic, but the volume at which she had to scream her question into the phone made the entire interaction feel a little less impactful.  

“Grade-A Asshole.” You groaned. “Where are you?” 

“I’m at Josie’s, but-” 

“Great. I’m on my way.”  

You hung up the phone before she could respond and hailed a taxi. You felt a little guilty for barging in on her evening. Karen was a good friend, one that you’d clung to since you and Billy had gone your separate ways, and she deserved a night out without your moping. But the nagging feeling rolling around in the pit of your stomach told you exactly the reason you had to go to Josie’s. If you didn’t go hang out with Karen, you’d end up calling Billy, and the last thing you wanted to do was let him see you after a shitty date. You climbed into the taxi and hoped you could drink away the memories of tonight with Karen once you arrived at Josie’s.  

- 

Billy took a hefty sip of his beer as he eavesdropped on Karen’s phone conversation. Technically, it wasn’t eavesdropping if Karen had whacked him on the arm the second her phone started ringing, but it made Billy uncomfortable anyways. What they’d planned felt too much like a trick, and he didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. 

“She’s on her way.” Karen grinned, raising her beer in the air to clink bottles with him.  

Billy fiddled with the bottle in his hand, unsure if there was anything to be ‘cheersing’ to. 

“C’mon, Bill,” Frank grunted, meeting Karen’s still outstretched arm, “It worked. She’s on her way. Now, all you have to do is be a lesser asshole than her date.” 

“Don’t you think she’ll be furious when she finds out her entire evening was construed by her ex-boyfriend and best friends? She doesn’t even want to see me.” 

“Trust me, Billy,” Karen angled her head for emphasis, “She does. She just won’t admit it.” 

“How do you know, though?”  

“I see it on her face, and hear it in her voice, and she’s still sleeping on my couch. And you know what that tells me?”  

Billy rolled his eyes. “What does that tell you, Karen?” 

Karen’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “That she’s not looking for another apartment. That she still has hope that she’ll be able to go home, to your apartment.” 

Billy shook his head. “The market is insane. Maybe she just can’t find an affordable one.” 

“I saw three listed in the paper this morning. She’s not looking, Billy. She misses you.” 

Billy groaned, dragging his hands over his face. This entire situation was completely and totally fucked, and it was completely and totally his fault. He’d always been warned that his ambition would get the best of him. You’d slipped through his fingers so quickly that he got whiplash when he thought about the end of the relationship. It was like you were there one day and gone the next, and he had no idea how he ended up alone, stranded in his kitchen in the middle of the night because the idea of going to bed without you hurt too much.  

“What if it’s too late? What if I can’t fix it?” 

“All you can do is try, Bill.” Frank shrugged. 

“She loves you.” Karen spoke firmly, tapping her finger on the table, “And you love her. But she needs to know that. You have to show her that you love her.” 

“How? I thought I was doing that before.” Billy let out a disgruntled breath and cleared his throat.  

“Your priorities need to change. She deserves better than last-minute cancellations and rescheduled dates. You’re your own boss, Billy. You make the rules, and no matter how much money you spend on her, or how many gifts you buy her, she’s always going to remember the times that you didn’t show up.” 

Billy nodded. Karen was right, as usual. There’d been a significant change in the amount of time Billy was spending at Anvil, sometimes returning home early in the morning, only to change suits and leave again. It wasn’t your fault – it never was – but Billy couldn’t help himself from falling back into his old patterns. When shit got too real, he retreated, and it ended up costing him the most important thing in his life.  

Tonight was his chance to fix everything – to bring you home, to remind you that he adored you, to show you that his life was falling apart without you in it. All he had to do was get you to listen, and he was sure everything else would fall into place. 

- 

You took three steps into the bar before swiveling around and marching out in a dramatic fashion. Cursing Karen for conveniently forgetting to mention that Billy was with her, you tried not to stomp down the sidewalk that led to Karen’s apartment. If you had an apartment of your own, you’d surely be stomping your way there instead.  

You didn’t make it far before you heard your name being called behind you. Two distinct voices trailed you, but you were more focused on the lack of the third. Had he stayed behind at the bar? You swung around, almost slamming into Frank’s chest. Karen was a few steps behind him, and behind her, stood beautiful and broken Billy, hands in his pants pockets.  

“What?” You screeched, eyes flickering between the group. 

“I just wanted to tell you thaaaat,” Karen’s eyes twinkled, and you should’ve known that she was about to make your night go from bad to worse, “I’m going back to my apartment with my boyfriend, who is going to do very loud things to me for hours. If I were you, I’d steer clear of the whole block tonight.” 

You rolled your eyes and looked at Frank, whose innocent expression gave away Karen’s plan faster than you could piece it together. Clearly, this coup had been planned, and they were leaving you with no option but to spend time with Billy. 

“Is that so?” You narrowed your eyes at her, hoping she could read every nasty thought you’d ever had about her in your gaze.  

“Yep!” She hooked an arm through Frank’s and tugged him down the sidewalk. “See you tomorrow!” 

You watched them until they turned a corner, and you could no longer see them. When you turned to face Billy again, he had inched closer to you, standing a heady meter away with his hands still in his pockets. 

“Did you plan this?”  

The anger in your voice echoed across the concrete, slamming into Billy. He grasped his chest as if you’d shot him in the heart.  

“No. I didn’t even know there was a plan until I showed up at Josie’s earlier.” 

You hesitated to believe him, but something in the way he was looking at you told you to trust him. You looked him up and down, focusing on the way he looked worse than you’d ever seen him. For a brief second, you felt triumph over it. He deserved this after everything he did to you. He deserved to feel like shit. The triumph faded faster than it came, and an overwhelming sadness replaced the ire thoughts you were having about him.  

There were bags under his eyes, and you could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well. He never did when he couldn’t sleep with you. The facial hair that he usually kept so neat and maintained had grown beyond his usual boundaries, and the fact that he kept subconsciously scratching at it told you he didn’t like it. You tried not to let it get to you. You probably looked like shit, too.  

“How’ve you been?” His focus remained wholly on you. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and shake off his stare. 

“We don’t have to do this, Bil.” You looked at the ground, focusing on the crack in the concrete that crawled its way across the sidewalk, drawing a line inbetween you and Billy. You couldn’t decide if that was fitting, or incredibly sad. Maybe it was both. 

“We’re not doing anything.” He shook his head innocently. 

“You know what I mea-” 

“Come home.”  

There was a pregnant pause in the conversation as the two of you eyed each other. 

“Billy, I-” 

“Just for tonight. Until Karen’s apartment is...safe again.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, searching for an ulterior motive. And of course, there was an ulterior motive. You couldn’t blame him for it, because you knew if the roles were reversed, you’d be doing the same thing.  

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, more towards yourself than at him.  

“Why not?” He cocked his head to the side. 

“You know why.”  

He nodded but shrugged his shoulders anyways.  

“I’m not going to leave you out here with nowhere to go. It’s either the apartment, or we spend the next few hours in awkward silence at a diner.” 

The apartment. Not ‘my’ apartment. He didn’t consider it his when you weren’t there to claim the other half of it. You couldn’t lie to yourself. You wanted so badly to go with him, to see the home that you’d built with him. You wanted so badly to see how he’d faired over the last month without you. It was with all this in mind, and not how much you missed him, that had you nodding, agreeing to go home. Just for a visit, you repeated in your mind, just for a visit. 

When you stepped into what was once the living room you shared with Billy, you were struck with an overwhelming sense of familiarity. There was nothing different about it, except that the bookshelf was a little less stuffed than usual. You’d grabbed your favorites on your way out, unable to part with them, even just for a little bit. 

“Can I get you some wine?” Billy asked, already heading toward the kitchen to pour himself a glass. You nodded, shrugging your jacket off and trying to ignore the strangeness of being treated like a guest in the home that you’d lived in for years.  

When Billy returned with two particularly full glasses, you plopped down on the couch. You didn’t know how to act, or what to say, or who to be when you were around him anymore and falling back into old habits seemed like a grand way to get your feelings hurt again. 

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.” Billy took a swig from his glass, sitting on the armchair across from the couch. You silently thanked the universe that he had put distance between the two of you. The closer he was, the less clearly you could think.  

“Which one?” 

“How’ve you been?” 

“Oh.” You took a sip, only because it gave you something to do with your hands. “I’ve been alright.” 

He smiled, but the corners of his mouth didn’t reach his eyes. Anyone who looked at you longer than two seconds could see that you’re clearly not doing alright, but you’d grown comfortable living in denial, and you weren’t going to admit how not alright you were.  

“Heard your date didn’t go well.” 

You scoffed. Maybe it was the wine, or the way he looked smug about the fact that you’d had a shitty date, but you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.  

“Fuck you, Billy. It’s none of your business.” 

Billy looked startled by your outburst. You gulped down another mouthful of wine before rubbing your hand down your face. 

“I’m sorry.” You shook your head. “I don’t know where that came from.” 

“It’s okay. I probably deserve it.” He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. 

“What happened to us?” You asked, gazing at the ceiling. 

“You tell me, sunflower. You’re the one that left.” 

Your heart ached at the nickname. It wasn’t fair that he used it, especially when you were clearly in a vulnerable mood, but you cherished it anyways.  

“You left first.”  

It was barely a whisper, said so quietly that you weren’t quite sure he had heard you. If the palpable tension that followed wasn’t indicative of his acknowledgment, the deep sigh that erupted from his chest soon after was indication enough. He stayed quiet, swirling the remaining wine in his glass around in small circles. 

You stared at him, unflinching in your assessment of his body language. He didn’t look as miserable as you felt, and a spark of anger ignited in your belly because of it.  

“Did you ever really love me, Bil?” You barked. It was bait, and both of you knew it. You’d never questioned his love for you, and he knew you were trying to get a rise out of him, but he couldn’t help stepping up to the plate and taking the bait. 

“What kind of fucking question is that?” He watched you closely. You tried not to let your triumph show on your face. “Of course, I love you.” 

He stood from his seat and rested his hands on his hips, willing you to do the same. Meet him where he stood, he dared, show him how much you still care. You were nothing if not a daredevil. You joined him in the middle of the room, pressing your index finger into his chest. 

“Well then, what the fuck happened?”  

“You. Tell. Me.” He gritted from between clenched teeth. 

Billy wasn’t being fair to you, and he knew it. You were asking a valid question, and he was cowering behind the anger and frustration in the room.  

“I can’t do this again, Bil.” You turned, reaching for your purse. A heavy tug on your elbow had you crashing into Billy’s chest, where he enveloped his arms around you and pulled you into a crushing hold.  

“You’re not leaving, are you?”  

There was a softness in his voice that tugged at your heartstrings. For a moment, you forgot you were speaking to a grown man and not an orphaned little boy. You blew a long breath out before shaking your head. He rested his forehead against your shoulder. 

“No, Bil. I’m not leaving.” 

“I always knew I’d end up breaking your pretty heart.” His voice was muffled by your shoulder, but you didn’t miss the slight crack in his words. “I knew I’d fuck it up eventually.” 

“I don’t understand what happened. Everything was fine, and then it wasn’t.” You blinked away the tears that had built up on your waterline.  

“I know, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

You cupped his face as he dropped to his knees in front of you. His eyes, now red-rimmed and glassy, pleaded with you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from lowering your body next to his. 

“What’s going on?” You asked him, eyes flickering between his fast-blinking eyelids and rapidly shaking hands.  

“I was afraid.” He cleared his throat. “Am. I am afraid.” 

“Of what? Where is this coming from?” You gaped. You knew Billy struggled with commitment more than most – it had taken him almost a year of serious dating before he could tell you he loved you – but you thought he had moved past that. 

“Tom’s getting married.” 

Your brow furrowed. “What does Tom have to do with us?” 

“Tom’s getting married, and all I can think about is how I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to give that to you, and how you deserve someone who can give you everything you want and more.” 

You let his words sink into your chest, dissecting every interaction you’d had with him leading up to your breakup. It had been a slow descent, and when it finally became too much, you’d left with no clue how you ended up alone and sleeping on Karen’s couch every night. 

“Billy,” You shuttered, shaking your head as tears began to travel down your cheeks, “I never said I wanted any of that.” 

“It’s what you deserve.” 

“But it’s not what I want. Why couldn’t you see that I was happy with the way things were?” 

“I was terrified that you’d leave me. And then I became a shit boyfriend, and you really did leave me, and it was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You wiped the tears from under your eyes and sniffled. “You weren’t always a shit boyfriend.” 

Billy snorted, letting a small smile cross his face as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

“Can you ever forgive me, sunflower?” 

You considered his question. If you were being completely honest, you’d forgiven him as soon as you saw his pretty, brown eyes across the bar earlier, so sad and searching for you.  

“Can you promise that you’ll tell me when you’re feeling like this again, instead of shutting me out?” You cupped his cheek, eyes flicking down to his lips and then back up to his eyes.  

“I can promise that I’ll try.” He swallowed, searching your expression. “Is that enough?” 

You lurched forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss tasted of red wine and salt, and you were suddenly grateful that you’d slumped to the floor earlier instead of waiting until now, when your knees were weak and shaking with anticipation.  

“I love you.” Billy mumbled inbetween kisses. 

“Show me.” You responded, opening yourself to him for the first time in over a month. 

He took you right there on the living room floor, a flurry of intertwined limbs, swollen lips, and skin brushing skin. His lips only left yours long enough to whisper praises against your neck before returning to yours in a bruising kiss. When you came apart underneath him, you couldn’t stop the tears from forming, but he didn’t mind. He kissed the tears away, apologies in their own right, as he continued showing you how much he loved you. 

Later on, after hours of reconciliation and apologies, you collapsed next to Billy on the couch. You’d lost your clothes a long time ago, only covered with the throw blanket you’d purchased the year before on a whim, and you watched as he sighed in quiet contemplation.  

“We should tell Karen and Frank that their plan worked.” You rested your head on his shoulder. He smiled, pulling you into his chest.  

“Let them figure it out on their own. They’ll come around at some point tomorrow when you still haven’t gone back.” 

He was right. The next morning, when Karen and Frank knocked on the door, you and Billy were still cuddled together on the couch, so worn out from the night before that you hadn’t been able to muster up the energy to move to the bedroom. You took one glance at Billy before you were on him again, uncaring that your friends were waiting. That’s fine, you thought, let them wait. Let them wait. 

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Pictures of You - Roy Kent x Reader

Tagging: @elizabeththebat @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @@anyamcdonald @taytaylala12 @daydreamgoddess14 @amieinghigh @littleesilvia @blackleatherjacketz @xphantomphanphanaticx @its-a-show-stoppin-number @st4rgirliesstuff @secretsquirrelinc @meg-ro @xoxabs88xox @midnightmagpiemama

Roy’s in the locker room when Trent approaches him. He’s listening to a conversation between Issac and Colin with his arms crossed over his chest, when he catches the expression on the other man’s face.  He knows that somethings wrong, he can feel it in the pit of his stomach. When Trent tilts his head towards the empty manager’s office, Roy follows without hesitation.

At first, he thinks it’s something to do with one of the lads, a story that’s about to break, a leak about Colin’s private life. A surge of protectiveness rushes through him, if that’s the case, he’s going to hunt down the piece of shit that told the press and strangle them with his bare hands.

It’s only when Trent shows him the image on his phone that Roy understands the magnitude of the situation. His mouth goes dry, he rubs his palm across his stubble as he surveys the headline.

Kent’s Kinky Caster.

The picture that accompanies it is one that he’s never seen before. Your hair is longer, it falls across your shoulders as you bite your lower lip. Your thumb is drawing down the strap of the midnight-blue corset that you’re wearing. It accentuates your curves, pushing up your breasts.

You look fucking fantastic but it’s not you, he knows that you prefer lace and silk. Materials that cling or drape, that don’t dig in or contort your shape. He prefers you comfortable when you’re with him, not trussed up in something that’s going to leave marks across your skin.

“They must have hacked your phone.” Trent summarises as he takes back the device and slips it into his pocket.

“Not mine.” Roy says gruffly as he drops into Beard’s vacant seat. “I’ve never seen that picture before, the shit she sends me…” Roy trails off before he meets Trent’s gaze. “It’s classy, nothing like that.”

Trent bows his head in understanding. The picture that’s been delivered to the papers is one of a woman who’s trying so hard to be something else, for someone else. You’ve come a long way since then. He should know, he’s been your friend and confident for a few of years by now. The two of you had worked together for The Independent once upon a time. You’d been an investigative reporter before moving onto the podcasting world, and a damn good one at that.

The two of you still caught up every couple of weeks for drinks. He was one of the first people to know about your blossoming relationship with Roy Kent. You had no idea who he was initially, and Trent had found that endearing.

He suspects that the photograph has come from your ex-Martin. Trent knows that he will claim that his phone had been hacked but realistically no one hacks the phone of a Booker Prize Winner. Nobody cares who they’re sleeping with.

Trent recalls he’d made a nuisance of himself in the aftermath of the breakup. Turning up at your house all hours of the day and night until you’d sought a restraining order. After that he would bad mouth you to anyone that would listen, which is why Roy had headbutted him last month at a Save the Polar Bears event. Trent had gifted him an expensive bottle of Scotch  with a card that read “Because you did what I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.”

“I’ve put a few messages out to my contacts.” Trent informs Roy, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against Beard’s desk. “I should hear back from them soon.”

“I did this.” Roy tells the other man as he rubs his hands over his face in exasperation. “It’s because I headbutted him at the fucking Panda thing isn’t it?”

“Polar bears.” Trent corrects before sighing. “I think you give yourself too much credit. Martin’s had a bee in his bonnet because SHE left him.”

“Yea.” Roy snarls, his dark eyes practically glowing with rage. “Because she walked in on him fucking a Page Three model in her bed, if it was me, I would have painted the room with his innards.”

It’s a vivid image, Trent has to give him that.

“He doesn’t like that she’s happier than him, more successful. The fact she’s with someone who actually cares about her, who gives her what he couldn’t.” Trent says taking off his glasses and gesturing with them as he speaks. “Being the type of man that he is, it probably sent him off the deep end.”

“That doesn’t excuse this type of shit.” Roy snaps, sagging back into the chair in frustration. He’s helpless right now, utterly fucking helpless and he hates it. The story is already out there. Every fucking pervert on the internet is probably wanking off to that picture of you and you have no fucking idea because you’re on a flight home from Ireland. He knows this is going to devastate you and he can’t stand the thought of it.

He looks up at Trent, his expression one of anguish.

“This is going to kill her.”

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TM IS Side Stories: Bratty

Tzuyu was promised her first time with you and still hasn't received it, so she's been acting as bit like a brat. Jihyo and you figure out a solution to calm her down in this side story.

You sit beside Jihyo, annoyed at Tzuyu’s actions from the past few weeks. She’s become increasingly bratty and bothered you both about when she would get her chance to have sex with you. You start to recall everything she’s done, telling Jihyo as it comes back to you. 

Tzuyu had been coming into the bathroom while you shower, pressing her breasts against your back or kneeling in front of you, trying to give you a titjob. You had to admit that it was very entertaining to see her try to give you one; Tzuyu didn’t know what to do. She’d just hold your cock and rub it against her small breasts awkwardly. There were other times, too, when she’d sneak off during one of the girls' breaks while they were supposed to be practicing. Coming into your room while you worked to produce more music for them, Tzuyu would sit on your lap. She’d look back at you and grinds her ass against your nether region while asking, “When are you going to breed me like Mommy?” It was either that or she’d say something about how the two of you could do it. You would have to convince her it was a bad idea each time. 

Jihyo had been getting annoyed at Tzuyu pestering her with questions about when it would be her turn. So Jihyo decided to give Tzuyu a lesson to calm her for the moment.

“Tzuyu! Can you come in here for a minute?” Jihyo yells from the doorway. You hear Tzuyu's quick steps as she makes her way over.

“Yes, Mommy?” She asks, reaching the door. Tzuyu holds her hands behind her back, her twin tails waving back and forth as she comes to a stop. 

“Come inside, Tzuyu. We have something we need to talk about.” Tzuyu steps inside, immediately noticing you sitting on the bed.

“Daddy!” She yells, taking her place on your lap. Jihyo closes the door and sits beside you, giving you a small nod. “What did you want to talk about, Mommy?”

“We’re going to teach you a lesson Tzuyu,” Jihyo replies as she grabs the hem of Tzuyu’s shirt and lifts it up. You hold Tzuyu’s waist with one hand; the other snakes its way under her shorts and rubs her folds.

“Mmm, Daddy, that feels good.” Tzuyu moans as she stares into your eyes. Her moans turn you on; she feels you get hard and grinds against you as Jihyo removes Tzuyu's shirt. Your fiancee cups one of Tzuyu’s small breasts, gently squeezing it before getting in close and flicking the other breast’s nipple with her tongue. Tzuyu’s moans grow louder between the two of you; she nears her orgasm quickly. You slide your fingers inside Tzuyu; she squirms in your arms before crying out as she climaxes and wets her shorts. “I’m cumming!” She yells. You place Tzuyu on the bed, watching as she falls onto her back. Jihyo pulls off Tzuyu's shorts and quickly leaves her naked. “D-does this mean I’m getting to have my first time with Daddy?”  She says in a tired voice.

“Not yet, Tzuyu; you’ll get to have your first time soon. We’re just teaching you a lesson on what you should expect soon.” Jihyo slowly spreads Tzuyu’s legs as she speaks, ensuring her maknae didn’t notice. You get beside Tzuyu and turn her head to face you. Giving her a small peck on the cheek, Tzuyu frowns before tossing her head back as Jihyo eats her out. Jihyo’s tongue is relentless as it pushes deep into Tzuyu. Jihyo plays with Tzuyu’s clit, giving the young woman even more pleasure. 

“You’ve been a very naughty girl lately, Tzuyu. I know you want to have your first time, but you have to be patient.” You say before cupping Tzuyu’s face and making her look at you. “This is going to be a lesson just as much as it is a punishment.” Tzuyu continues to moan, her face expressing the pleasure she’s going through. Letting go of Tzuyu’s face, you cup her breast much like Jihyo did earlier. You start sucking on her nipples, drawing more moans from her. 

“Ah… I don’t have any milk for you, Daddy.” Tzuyu’s body writhes as she nears a second orgasm; it’s clear that she doesn’t have much endurance, but you find it cute that she tries to hold on. You hold Tzuyu down with your body, letting her get closer to her second orgasm. Jihyo slows down as she starts to enjoy teasing Tzuyu. She pulls her tongue out of the younger woman, tracing her slit and occasionally running her tongue across Tzuyu’s clit. Unable to last much longer, Tzuyu resorts to begging. “Mommy, I promise to be a good girl from now on. Please stop teasing me.”

“Do you really promise?” Jihyo asks her.

“Yes!” Jihyo nods and pushes her tongue back in Tzuyu, pressing it against her wall while she plays with her clit. Tzuyu screams from the pleasure and cums again, her hips rising naturally. Jihyo stays attached to Tzuyu, drinking Tzuyu’s nectar as it flows into her mouth. When Tzuyu calms down, you move her onto your lap, face down, and rub your hand on her bottom, giving it a small squeeze before spanking Tzuyu. “Daddy!”

“We told you this would be a punishment too, Tzuyu.” YOu respond as you get ready for another slap. 

“She got some of her juices on me,” Jihyo complains; you look to see Jihyo’s shirt wet because of Tzuyu. Jihyo strips it off, revealing her breasts to you. You smile, watching Jihyo's breasts bounce as her shirt comes off. She returns the smile, winking at you as she approaches you and places her hand on Tzuyu’s other cheek. You both alternate spanking her, leaving Tzuyu red. Once you're both satisfied, you let go of Tzuyu, and she tries to sit between you. She jumps a little as she tries to sit down, feeling a sting of pain. 

“That hurt,” Tzuyu complains.

“I heard you moan a couple of times, Tzuyu. Did you enjoy being spanked?” Jihyo asks.

“No! …maybe a little.” Tzuyu responds, her initial denial followed by her admitting she liked it. Tzuyu gets quiet for a moment, rubbing her backside. “Mommy? Have you ever done anal with Daddy?” 

“Only once, Tzuyu. We did try three times before, though.”

“Maybe I’ll let Daddy use me when he wants anal.” You and Jihyo both fail to contain a laugh. “Why are you laughing?” Tzuyu says as she turns her head back and forth.

“It’s just a lot harder than you think, Tzuyu,” Jihyo says as she pats the younger woman’s hair. 

“I can handle it.” Jihyo lets out another laugh.

She pats the bed, “Okay, then lay down. I’ll show you it’s a lot harder than it seems.” Tzuyu follows along, lying on her stomach. Jihyo takes her time; she smiles at you, trying to hold back her laughter as she spreads Tzuyu’s cheeks apart. Wanting a bit of a smoother experience, Jihyo slides her fingers into Tzuyu’s pussy first, coating them in a layer of nectar. When ready, Jihyo presses two fingers against Tzuyu’s pursed asshole. When she finally gets inside, you see Tzuyu hold a frown, clearly uncomfortable with the foreign sensation. “Not so easy, is it? And this is just with two fingers.” Jihyo, wanting to prove a point pushes her fingers further into Tzuyu's asshole, making the young woman yelp in pain before pulling out. Tzuyu whimpers as she gets back in a sitting position.

“I-it wasn’t that bad.” 

“Tzuyu, we can tell you were struggling.” You reply, patting her back.

“I’ll learn how! I-I’ll ask Chaeyoung for advice.” She says before standing up and putting her clothes back on. Tzuyu walks out of the room, rubbing her butt. “It hurts.” She says quietly as she passes Jeongyeon. Jihyo follows Tzuyu out the door, heading to the laundry room, when she hears Jeongyeon yell at her. 

“Ya! Don’t toy with Tzuyu!” Jeongyeon starts to chase Jihyo around the house, causing the others to check out what was happening. They all begin to laugh when they figure out the situation.

Tzuyu takes the opportunity to sneak back into your room. “See the chaos I caused, Daddy. I’ll keep doing it unless you do your part of the deal.” Tzuyu says proudly with her hands on her hips. You shake your head at her, watching her smirk as she turns around and skips away.

[flamingo-writes]

I am struggling with a bad case of artist block, I cant draw I can’t write, brain empty…

But I still get ideas, so hear me out. (Hopefully one day I’ll write this)

I’ve been seeing soulmates AU’s and they’re all very cute I have to admit, but hear me out. A soulmate situation, but Hobie being Hobie doesn’t like being told what to do. And he doesn’t believe in soulmates and he even dislikes the amount of people hurt by them. Relationships that were very functional and stable, breaking apart because they’re not soulmates.

Then Hobie meets you. Head over heels, instantly. You’re everything he’s ever dreamed of. Except your soulmate marks do not match. You’re not each other’s soulmates, but you two work so well. And this is when he starts getting anxious about this being another case of a great relationship that is doomed to fail because you’re not soulmates.

But hobie just means so much to you, you decide to stop looking for your soulmate. Not only stop looking for it, if at any given moment you came across them, you’d actively avoid them. Because Hobie is the best thing that could’ve happened to you, and you think it’s cruel of the universe to insist that you two aren’t meant for each other. You decide to take things into your own hands and determine Hobie es the one you want and the one you choose.

And Hobie couldn’t be any more happier with your rebellious determination and willingness to give up on what everyone else considers to be a blessing. If you can make that sacrifice of giving up your soulmate for him, he can and will do the same for you.

You cover up that soulmate mark with a spider tattoo, one Hobie knows is meant for him. He gets the exact same tattoo a week later.

#just some ideas I hope I get to write after whatever brain fog I’m having lately #hobie imagine #hobie brown #hobie x you #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader

[nr1chaedickrider]

'Universe.'

got this idea long ago from @allfortzu 's satzu story and i just need to write something about the universe theory <3

cw: (mostly) fluff, some angst, some smut

_______________________________________

It's quiet. A half-empty bottle of beer in each of your hands. Both of you are leaning against the bed while sitting on the floor. Chaeyoung's head on your shoulder. You are both cold, but somehow you warm each other up.

"Do you believe in the multiverse theory?" asks Chaeyoung as she looks at you, sitting upright again.

"Partly?" you reply, taking a sip of the beer.

"Kind of interesting to think about." says Chaeyoung, her head leaning back.

"Do you think... what would you and I be like in different universes?" she asks. It makes you think.

Both of you in other universes?

"Never thought about it that way," you reply.

In this universe, you are good friends. You've known each other for a long time.

But what about in other universes?

In this universe, you don't know each other, or rather, you don't know each other yet.

You have just moved to Paris, Chaeyoung has been living there for years. After weeks you start to notice more and more the flower shop which is in the same street as your apartment.

When you stand in front of it, you realize that it also offers tattoos? A strange but interesting combination.

You open the door and are immideatly greeted by the scent of flowers, as well as soft music in the background coming from a record.

"Hello!!!" says a woman enthusiastically to you, she looks smaller than you, her hair color the same as yours, her arms full of tattoos.

You smile at her and walk to the counter.

"I haven't been here that long, and I wanted to decorate my place a bit... and maybe get a tattoo on the spur of the moment?" you laugh, which she returns. "I have the perfect Flowers for you, and maybe the perfect Tattoo!" she smiles and winks at you.

Maybe it's a beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Maybe more?

In this universe you know each other, but you are probably your worst enemies.

You're both students in an art university, and you're the best students in the class. In competitions, it's always about which one of you wins. But, bad for you, Chaeyoung wins more than you.

"This can't be true," you mutter sourly as it is announced that she has won again. You walk out of the room, you don't need any more 2nd place trophies that just remind you that you can't be better than the Son Chaeyoung.

You walk to the next art classroom - the next competition is already in a month and you want to win. You sit down on a chair in front of a slightly larger canvas, your pens and brushes beside you on a stool. You hear the door open behind you.

"Drawing again? Wouldn't you rather give up? I'm going to win again anyway. Use your talent for other things," Chaeyoung says in her teasing voice. You grit your teeth because honestly, you feel like beating her up right now.

"Leave me alone." you reply. You hear a little giggle from her. "Good luck winning against me then" she says ironically and walks out. You hold the brush so tightly that it breaks in half. You sigh as you put away the two broken halfs.

Here, you hate her more than anything.

In another universe, you have a rather... different relationship.

Chaeyoung's head between your thighs, your hand in her hair while you moan. A breathy "f-fuck-" leaves your mouth. You've met her in a bar, and from the eye-fucking to the quick talking stage onto this perfect moment.

You breath heavily as Chaeyoung eats you out, her tongue in your hole while her nose hits your clit in a unusual pace.

Maybe its the alcohol, or Chaeyoung's perfect skills, but you cum quickly into her mouth, the sound of her drinking your juices makes you even more horny.

She sits upright again, smirking at you while her finger is resting on your clit which makes you grind your hip against her finger, signalising Chaeyoung that you definetly want more.

She leans forward, kissing you while one hand plays with your breast, the other one drawing circles on your clit. You moan into her mouth as she explores it with her tongue. She leaves your lips and her mouth lands on your neck, sucking, biting, kissing every inch of skin, her fingers now burried deep inside of you. Your hands on her shoulder, your nails digging into her skin while your toes curl into the bedsheet.

In this Universe, you dont really know eachother except your name or how you look without clothes, how you moan and taste. And maybe it will stay like that.

Maybe not.

In a universe far away, you are older.

You've been Chaeyoung's girlfriend for years.

Chaeyoung is on a set right now filming her new music video, and you're visiting her for support.

She fulfilled her dream of becoming a singer about a year ago, and it went even better than she thought. Her debut song became a hit, so now the next album almost a year later.

"Hello!!!" you call in happily, Chaeyoung smiles at you as she walks away from the set to hug you.

"I missed you" you say as you both walk to an empty room so you can talk in peace.

"Me too" Chaeyoung replies but in some weird tone.

You sit down on a couch as she takes your hand in hers, a light sigh falling from her lips.

"Are you okay?" you ask worriedly. Chaeyoung is silent, but then-

"My company wants me to break up with you... it's just to start with, they don't want to ruin my reputation, they say after a year or so we can do things together in public too" she says, her voice breaks, but in the end it sounds like she agrees and wants to take a year off??

"Chaeyoung..."

"You know it's my dream..." she says, since this conversation started she hasn't even looked at your face once. You wipe a tear from your cheek.

"You know I've always supported you. Then I'll do it again now," you say, standing up and walking out of the room, you hear Chaeyoung say something but you're too afraid to look back.

You came to support her, but it seems you did in a different way.

"I love you forever," she said as you left.

"I love you too," you say to yourself as you wave to a cab.

Here in this world you can't be together, but that's okay. You love each other.

"Do you think they hate us?" asks Chaeyoung, quietly and fearfully.

"I don't. I honestly don't want to think about it" you answer and sigh.

In this universe, you also love each other, but no one knows but the two of you.

You are sitting on a terrace of a bar, among young adults like you it is known as a safe place for "people like you", the extra exclusive terrace is as good as dark, a few candle lights on the tables from the different people. Half empty drinks on your table. Your view of the sea, the waves as good as silent.

"No matter what they think of us, I will always love you" you say and smile, your hand on hers. Your cell phone rings, a call from your mother.

"Hold on a second" you say and answer it.

"So how's the date going?"

Right. You told her you were out with a male friend. You sigh.

"It's going fine."

"I hope he likes you, you should finally marry someon-"

"I have to go, see you later mom." you hang up and turn off your phone.

"Your mom is bugging you again?" asks Chaeyoung, you nod.

"How about we go for a walk?" she smiles.

"I'd love to" you both put money on the table and walk out of the bar, a walk along the water, your favorite activity, unobtrusive yet somehow beautiful too. You walk hand in hand, Chaeyoung kisses your cheek. She's been doing it for years, but every time you get butterflies in your stomach. You sit down on a bench, your head on her shoulder.

"Chaeyoung?" it's quiet.

"Hm?"

"I want to go to another city..

With you" you say, it's not a question, just a fact. It's a sentence full of love.

"Me too" she says and smiles.

"I want to marry you" Chaeyoung says, it's just like you said, a fact, full of love, like a proposal.

"Then let's get married" you kiss her, slowly and so soft.

In this Universe you're scared to show your love.

"Its funny to think about us in different universes" she says, your beer already empty, your mind slowly coming back after you were thinking about everything.

You and Chaeyoung in different places.

"You know... it's interesting and all... but I'd much rather just be here, in the present universe. With you," you say, while looking at her. It's more of a whisper, but loud enough for Chaeyoung to hear.

She smiles at you and nods.

"You're right" she says, setting the beer in her hand on the floor and turning to you, her hand on your cheek.

In this universe, you are good friends.

She comes closer, her warm breath on your lips, she looks into your eyes, then at your lips, and back into your eyes.

You both come closer, her lips on yours. A slow, pleasant kiss.

Maybe you are more than friends, but it doesn't matter. You have each other, and you would rather be nowhere else but here.

#Spotify #feeling silly #wlw #twice imagines #twice smut #twice x reader #girl group smut #twice ff #down bad #chaeyoung x reader #chaeyoung fluff #twice fluff #tzuyu angst #tzuyu fluff

[kiitsunekuro]

In the Neon Lights | One

Bakugou Katsuki x Exotic Dancer!female reader

WARNINGS: alcohol use, drug mention, mention of past abusive relationship, injury (no gore), some angst, fluff, smut, dom bakugou, sub reader, oral (both receiving), fingering, spanking, daddy kink, unprotected sex, breeding kink, degradation, praise. Bakugou prolly says some variation of ‘fuck’ too much. Idk it’s my first time writing for him.

Summary: Bakugou meets a pretty exotic dancer(reader) during Izuku’s bachelor party, but you’re hard to get to know.

Roughly 14.3k words. Quickly proofread.

No beta. We ball. I’m tired of looking at this so I’m posting it before I start to hate it.

18+ ONLY. NSFW. MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

“Don’t see why I have to go.” Bakugou growled, crossing thick arms over his chest, glaring at his red haired friend who sat across from him on the couch in the break room of their agency.

“C’mon, man. You don’t even have to stay the entire night.”

“No, fuckin’ hate clubs.”

“It’s for your best friend's bachelor party,” Kirishima protested, then sighed, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “Look, one hour, and I’ll cover your patrol for you anytime you need me to, no questions asked,” He thought for a moment, before holding up two fingers, “Twice.” He crossed a finger over his heart and smiled as Bakugou growled his reluctance between gritted teeth, relenting.

“I’m not getting him any fuckin’ gifts.”

“You don’t need to-“ but his sentence was cut off as Bakugou stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. ‘Small victories’, Kirishima told himself. ‘Small victories…’

Bakugou groaned, smashing his face against his palms, rubbing his temples roughly. Sure, he wanted to support Deku on his day, it had been a long time coming, but the bachelor party everyone had planned to throw for him sounded ‘fuckin’ stupid’, in his own words. The whole idea of taking someone to a strip club for a ‘last night of freedom’ rubbed him the wrong way to begin with, add to that his disdain for the general club environment and it wasn’t getting any better. He was gonna have to get drunk to make it bearable, he decided. Maybe he’d even show up a few drinks in.

An hour at most, and then he’d be out.

———-

The club was a designated spot for pro heroes to attend without drawing media attention- all the staff and dancers had been vetted and were under strict NDA’s, so that was a small weight off of his shoulders. His already volatile public image didn’t need anymore controversy. Especially not after the incident with the reporter two weeks ago that had ended with dozens of articles with titles like “BAKUGOU: HERO OR MENACE?”

Bakugou hadn’t even done anything wrong, in fact he had saved the guys’ life. But that didn’t sell as many papers or draw in as many clicks.

It was a higher end club, catering to the wealthier crowd who wanted a more luxurious experience and prided themselves on their ability to provide top-notch service. Nobody clamored for his attention, nobody was taking photos or asking for his autograph.

Still, as he shouldered his way inside, already a little tipsy, he squinted his eyes against the bright strobing lights and obnoxiously loud music and sat down off to the side of his friends, turning to the bartender.

“Whiskey, neat.” He practically yelled over the din of the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Denki drunkenly hanging around an attractive brunette talking too loudly. Deku seemed to be politely but awkwardly enjoying himself, as he pried a girl's hand away from his thigh as she tried to whisper something into his ear that caused a blush to color his cheeks, and he laughed nervously.

Bakugou smirked to himself, he fuckin’ knew this was a bad idea.

“What kind?” The bartender interrupted his thoughts, pulling his attention back to her.

“Whatever, top shelf.” Bakugou muttered dismissively. She turned to grab a bottle of expensive looking liquor, and he swiftly caught her wrist in his hand. “Make it a double.” She nodded, pulling out of his grasp. Groaning, he dropped his head into his hands and pulled several large bills from his pocket to tip her- his nervousness felt out of character, out of his element, and he wasn’t used to this. He cursed himself for grabbing her, he was pretty sure that was frowned upon.

The hand of a dancer traced along his shoulders, she had seen him open his wallet, thick with money, and closed in on him like a predator.

“Hey baby,” she cooed, leaning against him with her breasts pressed firmly against his back. “How are you tonight?” Her painted lips curled into an inauthentic smile that made his skin crawl.

The bartender set his drink down in front of him, and he quickly pressed several bills into her palm, muttering some kind of apology and her furrowed brows softened a bit into a smile before she motioned to the girl beside him.

“Did you want to buy a drink for Angel?”

He gave an exasperated sigh as he pulled another bill from his wallet to hand to the dancer, standing up and turning his back to her he stalked over to his friends with his whiskey gripped tightly in his hand.

He seated himself beside Denki who was now tipping the same girl he’d been talking to as she danced, and drank heavily from his glass.

The DJ began to call the next dancer to the stage, voice booming obnoxiously over the speakers. The girl that had just finished performing grabbed her bra as the floormen used what looked like some kind of long squeegee to sweep the money from the stage and into buckets.

“Having any fun yet, Bakugou?” Denki practically yelled over the noise, leaning close to him and swaying drunkenly. Bakugou could smell the liquor emanating off his breath.

“Fuck no. Seems like Deku loves it, you really know ‘im.” He rolled his eyes, sipping his drink and Kaminari glanced over at a very uncomfortable looking Midoriya. Bakugou was about to add something snarky when out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the next dancer walking along the stage.

You looked stunning in the outfit that you’d chosen for the night, baby blue with gold lace trims and diamond jewelry glittering around your neck and wrists, flashing under the lights. For a moment, everything else faded into the background, the way he’d only seen in bad movies he’d been forced to watch.

You gave him a sweet smile as you started your set, heavily aware of his crimson gaze that settled onto you as you danced. Usually that wouldn’t make you nervous, but this time it did, weighing heavily on your psyche.

His attention toward you didn’t go unnoticed by Denki, who raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously as he leaned forward on the stage, several bills gripped in his hand. Bakugou’s eyes raked across your frame, hypnotized by the way your hips swayed as you walked toward the two of them and he felt his mouth go completely dry. His cock twitched in his pants watching you lean over, breasts still caged by your bra, soft and alluring. Denki said something to you and he narrowed his eyes, watching him hand you a wad of cash and you giggled, a perfect, gentle sound that made his heart jump a little. You made eye contact for a moment as you nod at something the yellow haired man is telling you before he sits back down, leaning back into the chair with a drunken smirk.

“What did you do?” Bakugou growls, tightening his grip on the crystal in his hand.

Denki shrugged, holding his hands up by his head.

“I’unno what yer talkin’ about, Bakubro.”

“What the fuck d-“ he can’t even finish his sentence before the same brunette from earlier walked up behind Denki and grabbed his hand, helping him to his feet. He turned for a moment to shrug sheepishly at Bakugou before being led behind a curtained room, leaving Bakugou to fume as he finished the rest of his whiskey and flagged a waitress down to ask for more.

She took the orders for the rest of the group, his attention now returning to you, watching as you danced, elegant and sensual. The movements of your body drew him in, almost making his mouth water. Your gaze settled on him as the second song began, and you slowly slipped the straps of your bra off your shoulders and he felt the heat in his cheeks begin to grow unbearable as he looked away.

“Don’t just stare, Bakugou!” Kiri called out “Give the girl her money.” He laughed as he tossed a handful of bills onto the stage. Bakugou swallowed thickly and leaned forward to set the money on the stage in a small stack, as you blew him a soft kiss and mouthed a ‘thank you’ at him, moving your hand from your lips and out in sign language for the phrase. You reached behind your back to unclasp your bra and Bakugou revelled in the way your tits fell and bounced without the support, willing his cock not to harden as he shut his eyes and breathed deeply.

When he opened them again, the waitress was back, handing everyone their drinks, a sparkler lit in a bucket of ice next to a champagne bottle as she set it down next to the bachelor, Deku. Bakugou lifted his glass in a half-hearted cheers for his friend before returning it to his lips. He nearly spit it out when he noticed that you’d seated yourself next to him and he choked, coughing and sputtering into his arm.

Your eyes flew open in mild surprise and genuine concern, moving your hand to his back,

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to surprise you,” You laughed softly and it caused his stomach to twist in knots, shaking his head, shrugging as he wiped his face with a beverage napkin.

“I’m fine.” He snapped, a little more rudely than he intended and finished his drink in one large swallow.

You nod, brows still knit together as you watched him pensively.

“Um, your friend, Denki?” You try, a bit apprehensive and he rolled his eyes.

“He didn’t say anythin’ stupid did he?” His nose scrunched slightly as he studied you through narrowed eyes, alcohol making its way quickly through his system. You smiled, shaking your head and it made his face burn hotter, certain his face must be flushed an obscene shade of pink between how flustered you made him and the alcohol raging through his veins.

“Ah, no. He bought you a few dances with me in the back room.” You motioned toward the curtains.

His stomach dropped and his hand gripped the arm of the chair he’s sitting in tightly.

“Fuckin’ bastard.” He growls, low enough he’s sure you can’t hear.

“Did you want to go now?” You tilt your head slightly, looking up at him with wide, doe eyes, offering him your jewelled hand.

‘Fuck it,’ he thinks, standing and gripping your hand in his, marvelling at how much smaller and softer it feels against his. He watched your ass as you walked slightly ahead of him, leading him to the designated lap dance area and pushed aside the blue velvet curtain to reveal a plush couch and ornate side table. You motioned for him to have a seat, and he fell back into it rather unceremoniously.

His eyes glued to your frame, taking in your features in the low lights and how they illuminated the high points of your nose, cheekbones, brow bone. He almost wished he could paint, just so that he could have this image of you forever, a vision in lights of neon pink and blue.

You approached him slowly, sliding onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found their home on your waist, and he caught the scent of your perfumed hair, feeling dizzyingly high, heightening his drunken euphoria.

“You’re s’beautiful,” his speech slurred a little as he pushed some hair away from your face and you smiled, cupping his face gently with one hand.

“You’re pretty handsome yourself.” You murmur against his ear, adjusting your position so that you’re straddling him. He cleared his throat, hyper aware of the bulge in his pants as your ass brushes against his clothed thighs and your cleavage came tauntingly close to his face. It’s all he can do to hold himself back, fingers digging into the plush of your hips as his head empties of the blood rushing to his groin.

Slowly you roll your hips against him in time to the music, the intensity of your eye contact driving him into a frenzy.

“What’s your name…? I’on’t think I got it.” He seems almost shy and it endears him to you, to see a man so strong and powerful practically worshipping at your feet.

“Aria,” You tell him your stage name instead of your real one, and he narrows his eyes, knowing full well it isn’t real- but he doesn't press you for it.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats, unable in his drunken state to stop himself from praising you. It wasn’t just your physical beauty he was drawn to, or your attentive, sweet demeanor. There was a sharp intelligence to you, something with your eyes- that intrigued him and made him want to pry you open and understand you, to know you better.

You tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his hand up to your breast with the other, moving it against you, prompting him to massage it and he groaned.

“Fuck, I can’t do this.” He throws his head back and it hits the wall with a dull thunk and you jump, cradling his head for a moment,

“You alright?”

“Yeah, s’fine, don’t worry. I gotta- I gotta go.” He helps you off of him but pauses for a moment, reaching for a napkin and hastily scribbling his number down and handing it to you, coupled with a large tip, without looking you in the eye. “I don’ like places like this,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck, “That’s f’you though, if you- y’get it,” He grumbled and tossed the curtain aside with a bit too much strength as the fabric billowed around you. “An’ don’ fuckin’ sell it!” he called angrily over his shoulder, which is hunched up as he waved a dismissive goodbye to his friends.

You stand, watching him go, still frozen in place as you held the napkin and the tip in your hand before you can shake the interaction off. It wasn’t unusual at all to get numbers from clients- hell, you’d had people full on propose to you a couple times, but something about this interaction felt different in a way you weren’t entirely sure how to describe. You shake the thoughts from your mind and crumple up the napkin before tossing it in the trash and shoving the bills into your bag.

You doubted you could make someone like Dynamite into a regular, especially with how eager he had seemed to get out of the club just now. And you didn’t date clients, especially not pro-hero clients. That was one lesson you had learned the hard way that you weren’t eager to repeat.

You heard Denki and Kirishima calling you as you made your way to the bar for some water and turned to smile at them, waving.

“He wasn’t awful was he?” Kiri pouts, looking at you with sweet almost puppy dog like eyes, swimming from the alcohol.

“Oh, not at all.” You dismiss their concern with a wave of your hand, “He just seemed a little drunk and overwhelmed.” You laughed a little and handed the bartender a few dollars for your water.

“Katsuki? Overwhelmed?” Denki raised a brow in confusion. “Guess he must like ya,”

“You got some kind of aphrodisiac quirk?” Kirishima jokes, laughing and thanking you for taking the time to spend with them. You assured them it was a great time before they’re being dragged away by the other dancers, shooting you dirty, possessive glances.

For the first time since you’d started this job, you feel your stomach twisting in nervous knots, thinking of the handsome man you’d just had in the back room. For a moment, you close your eyes, breathe deeply, and bury the feeling before turning to meet your next client.

————-

Bakugou awoke the next morning with a blistering headache, groaning loudly at the light that streamed in through the window and spilled onto his bed, sheets tousled carelessly.

“Fuck,” he grunted, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. He turned one eye to his phone, lighting up on his nightstand, rubbing sleep from the other. Snatching the phone from its resting place, he quickly unlocked it and scanned the numerous messages that his friends had sent him through the course of the night after he had left.

Shittyhair: dude, you left out of nowhere, everything good?

Kaminari: broooo i paid for more songs than that, you owe me

Kaminari: and you should probably apologize bro, she looked real confused

Oh god.

He struggled to piece the night together, blurry memories of lights and dancers and alcohol. Then he recalled that he had met you, and he was pretty sure he had unceremoniously shoved his number at you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, louder this time as his head fell. “No more fuckin’ clubs.” He promised himself, no matter whose bachelor party it was.

And another thing that was for sure, was that he would never have one himself.

Still, for some reason he couldn’t shake the memory of you as he undressed for the shower. The ghost of your touch still lingering on his unwashed skin, the residual scent of your perfume on his clothes from the night before. He felt his cock twitch slightly at the memory of your legs spread over his lap, and his desire to lean down and run his tongue across your skin and taste you. He palms himself through his boxers for a moment, wondering what you’d feel like under him.

Shaking himself aggressively he turned the water on, eager to wash the events of the previous night from his mind.

How stupid could he be? Giving a random dancer his number like that? He figured he’d have to change his number, the same way Denki was onto his fourth one for the year as he had made a. habit of drunkenly giving his number out to women at bars and clubs. Jesus christ, he didn’t want the embarrassment of telling his agent why he’d have to change his number. Maybe he’d get lucky though, and you wouldn’t try to sell his number or maybe he’d written it down incorrectly- he was pretty drunk.

Maybe, though, you would text him. The thought made something stir deep in his chest as he scrubbed himself with body wash, wet hair sticking to his forehead in uneven spikes.

He would apologize to you though, he decided, and maybe try to mitigate any damage he had caused in the process. After he got off work, he would stop by the club to see if you were there again tonight if you still hadn’t texted him by then.

————

The end of the work day can’t come soon enough as he’s embroiled with petty crime, even getting bitten once by some low level villain with a poison quirk. It was more of an irritating itch than anything debilitating.

He wraps a bandage around it carefully, making eye contact with Kirishima as he rounds the corner to get ready for his own patrol.

“Bakugou!” He claps a hand against his back, “How ya feelin’?” He ignores the question,

“Do you know if uh, I could call that club to see if someone is workin’?” There’s a pained expression on his face. Kiri scratches his head briefly.

“Sounds like more of a question for Kaminari,” he laughs half-heartedly, “but I think generally, no? Crazy exes, stalkers and the like,” he adds as he catches a glimpse of the rising irritation in his friends eyes.

Bakugou feels his stomach lurch at the notion of stalkers. Did that happen often? He cursed under his breath and hoped you wouldn’t put him in the same category.

“Is this about that girl last night? Aria?”

“None of your business, shitty hair,” He growls, pulling his keys from his pocket and shoving past him.

“It’s fine dude, she was pretty, there’s no judgement-“

“It’s not fuckin’ like that,” he rounds on his friend, eyes narrowed in annoyance. Kirishima holds his hands up in front of himself,

“Alright, alright,” Bakugou relaxes and turns to leave again.

“Don’t mention this to anyone.” He grumbles, leaving the room with a slam of the door.

Bakugou’s still fuming as he gets into the driver's seat of his car and begins the twenty or so minute drive to the club. It looks strange in the dying light of the day, before all the neon lights had been turned on. It seemed out of place like this, as if it should only exist after the sun had gone down.

Shouldering his way through the doors, a girl at the front greets him with a smile.

“Good evening, Bakugou.” Of course she knew his name.

“I’m just here to see someone for a sec,” he glances around nervously, peering into the main room to see if you’re there. “Is Aria working?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” She scans the sign-in sheet at her podium. “It doesn’t look like it. She usually doesn’t work until Wednesday or Thursday,” He quirks an eyebrow at her, “She has school, I think? But she’s almost always here on Thursday.” She smiles up at him and he sighs, thanking her as he walks out of the door.

It was still only Sunday, and the anxiety eating away at his stomach would persist until then. He’d come on Wednesday, on the off chance you’d be back.

To his surprise (and though he wouldn’t admit it, his delight) you were in fact there when he returned late Wednesday night, still smelling like smoke and fire, walking briskly through the crowd.

You jump a little when you see him, heart pounding in your chest, taking you by surprise before youre able to pull yourself together for a smile,

“Bakugou!” You wave, “It’s nice to see you again.”

He wordlessly grabs your wrist and pulls you off to a quiet corner and sits at a table, pushing a chair out with his foot for you to join him.

“What’d you do with my number?”

No beating around the bush here.

“Oh, I uh, I threw it away. You were pretty drunk and I try to be respectful of people’s boundaries, yannow it’s just-“

“What?” His heart aches and his stomach drops and he’s not sure why. “Ya didn’… sell it or anythin’?” You shake your head. He scratches the back of his head, looking up at the ceiling, you awkwardly pick at your nails in the silence.

“It is nice to see you again, though,” You admit, and a warmth spreads through his chest. “Didn’t think I’d see you again, you left in such a hurry.”

“Ya didn’t text me.” He reminds you.

“You were drunk.”

“I’m not now.” You blush despite yourself.

“I don’t sleep with clients.”

“I didn’t say anythin’ about fuckin’.” His eyes narrow, vermillion eyes flickering like flames beneath the lights.

“I don’t… date clients. Or pro-heroes.” You add quickly.

He drums his fingers on the table top, eyeing you curiously. You suddenly seemed nervous and he didn’t want to pressure you into anything.

“Bad experience?”

“Something like that.” You play with a strand of your hair between your fingers.

“What if,” he breathes heavily through his nostrils and leans forward on his elbows, “Can I come see you here, then?”

“That’s fine.”

“Could you text me when you’re working? I don’t have all the free time in the world.” You laugh a little, relaxing and nod, giving him your number.

“Don’t spam me, and don’t get mad at me if I’m not always available,” you poke him in the chest playfully, “I’m pretty busy.”

“Door girl said you’re in school, hah?” He pushes your hand down, but rests it in his lap beneath his larger palm.

“Mhm.” You nod, feeling your mouth go dry at the subtle intimacy of his touch. “I’m a biomed major, so it can get intense sometimes.”

“D’ya ever get to relax?”

“Do you?”

He laughs, a rough and low sound that has your stomach doing flips.

“Fair enough, princess.” The pet name has your thighs clenching slightly, and you worry that your hand is shaking under his.

If he could give you time, provide a safe net for you to relax and study without working in this place, he would in a heartbeat.

————

Bakugou: workin tonight?

you: I am! :) I’ll be in by 8pm.

Bakugou: I’ll be there.

Bakugou: got something for ya

You: oh?

Bakugou: you’ll see when i get there

You: I can’t wait! <3

You set your phone down with a shaky breath as you got ready for the night. You never got nervous to see anyone at work, but even the sight of his name on your phone had your body trembling, and you wondered if this was sustainable.

It wasn’t good for you to keep a regular you might have feelings for, it complicated things and kept you from focusing in your day to day life.

For now, you’d let things continue to play out.

At work, you pulled off your street clothes and got ready for the night, lacing up thigh high boots with heels that made you a good seven inches taller. They were some of your favourites as they made pole tricks a bit easier, and you’d been working on a few new ones.

A couple other girls walked in, whispering behind you and shooting you some dirty looks.

Most of the girls were nice, but a few had developed some resentment toward you since you seemed to have the number four pro-hero wrapped around your finger. It didn’t bother you, usually. It was easy enough to brush off and there were plenty of other heroes with plenty of money that would come to spend their money on them.

Signing in at the front desk, you made your way to the bar.

“Could I get my shift drink, please?” You asked, hoping it would quell the nervousness in your chest. “Tequila soda?”

“Sure thing, sweetie.” She smiled as she poured you a hefty amount of liquor, tipping them well will do that. Bringing in a top ten hero would definitely do that.

You sit at the bar awhile, wincing at the bitter taste of liquor and shudder. Was there any soda in that?

You open your eyes wide to assess your level of intoxication, when you spot the large figure of Bakugou coming through the front door with a medium sized gift bag in hand. You stand up to hug around his neck and he bends down slightly, awkwardly wrapping one arm around your waist. You inhale deeply, drunk on his scent of burnt caramel and vanilla, the tinges of smoke and cinder.

He had to stop himself from kissing you on the cheek and cleared his throat, shoving the gift bag at you and averting his gaze.

“Here.”

You lead him again to the table that’s become your regular spot by now, haphazardly pulling out the box from within the bag. It’s black with a burnt orange ribbon, colors you recognize as being from his pro hero outfit, and you narrow your eyes at him quizzically.

He’s leaned over with his elbows on his knee, bouncing on the ball of his foot, impatiently waiting for you to open it.

Inside the box is a stunning set of lingerie in shades of black and shining rust colored lace, a dark green ribbon threaded through it, leading to a bow tied delicately in the middle. On the panties, the ribbon is on the back. There’s also a set of new heels inside in complementary colors.

“Oh, wow…” You breathe softly.

“D’ya like it?” one side of his nose is scrunched up, gaze half hidden behind spikes of messy blonde hair.

“Oh, I love it.” You ran your fingers along the sheer fabric. “Did you want me to put it on now?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” He smirks, already imagining how you’d look. “Had it made special for ya.” Your face is burning, and your limbs are shaking as you pull yourself to standing to go and change,

“I’ll be right back,” you promise as you grab the lingerie and shoes before disappearing into the dressing room.

Bakugou sits back, ordering his regular drink and avoiding eye contact with the other dancers vying for his attention.

“Hey handsome,” a pretty red head he hasn’t seen before saunters up to him.

“I’m waitin’ for someone.” He sips his drink without looking at her. Her lips part to say something, but it’s interrupted by the harsh sound of his chair being pushed back over the tile floor as he stands up, awestruck as you walk out of the dressing room, peeking over at him from behind the curtain.

He takes a few long, purposeful strides toward you, pulling you into him, heavy palm on the small of your back.

“Ya look fuckin’ perfect,” his eyes search yours, flashing to your lips and imagining his pressed against their softness, the way the lingerie shapes your breasts into perfect mounds, the bow near your ass begging to be untied. “I wanna fuckin’ ruin you,” he growls against your ear, the heat of his breath sends shivers down your spine.

“Oh…” you can’t stop the soft, breathless moan and he feels himself getting hard, closing his eyes tightly. It was relentless, and pathetic just how often he found himself fucking his fist to the thought of you now, at times unable to wait until he got home, fisting himself in the parking garage across the street.

He desperately wanted to meet you outside of here, to take you somewhere nice and get to know the real you. He wanted to give you everything, but he’d start small. He didn’t know how long it might take, but he had promised himself that he’d find a way through the emotional walls that you had built up, thick and seemingly impenetrable.

“Can I get a dance with you, princess?” He murmurs, lips a hair's breadth from the shell of your ear, you can feel him smirk when goosebumps dimple your flesh.

“Mmm,” You hum, leading him slowly to the back room so that he can watch the way your ass moves as you walk.

In the darkness of the back room, you turn to face him, raking your nails along the outside of his jeans and pressing him back into the couch by his shoulder. You sidle into his lap, and move the pull the straps off your shoulders but he stops you with a quick hand.

“Ya don’t have to do anything,” His crimson gaze is steady on you, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, “I just wanna be here with you.” He rasps, pulling you so close to him your noses brush against each other. You wrap your arms around his neck and hum contentedly, forgetting yourself and pressing a kiss against his jawline that makes him shudder.

“You’re too good to me, Bakugou,” you whisper against his ear, and he closes his eyes tightly.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he growls, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. There was a harsh pang in his chest at your insistence on using his last name, desperate to hear you breathlessly moaning ‘Katsuki’, and he swore to himself he would some day.

He revels in the way your fingers trail along his well muscled arm, stopping when they feel the broken skin of a new injury and your face twists into an expression of concern.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, s’fine,” He smirks, “I’m one of the best, princess.” Your smile is bittersweet.

“I know.” Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, “I worry about you sometimes, when I watch the news,” He raises an eyebrow.

“Me? I’m the one that should be worried about you, workin’ places like this.” You pull away slightly, tilting your head.

“It’s just a job.”

“Nah, not like that,” he shakes his head, holding your hands in one large palm. “Friend of mine mentioned stalkers, n I’ve met enough unsavory types to know what kinda people are out there.”

You nod, understanding.

“I’ve never had an issue with a stalker or a villain, but I did-“ you stop yourself, catching your words before the alcohol in your system let them go.

He pulls you closer to him by the curve of your hips.

“Y’can’t start somethin’ like that and not finish,” he warns, voice low. You worry your lower lip between your teeth, debating whether or not it would be too much to share. Your general role was to play therapist, entertainer, a momentary fantasy girlfriend. A modern day geisha.

You didn’t want to worry them with your own problems, which often seemed trivial in comparison to many of your clients.

“Hey,” he taps your forehead with a calloused finger, “what’s goin’ on in there, hah?”

You sigh, pressing your face into his neck, breathing lightly.

“It’s nothing, not really a big deal,”

”I’m sure I could handle it, then,” he murmurs into your hair.

“I uh, dated a pro-hero last year.”

“Somethin’ happen to ‘im?” He fidgets uncomfortably beneath you. You shake your head, staring at nothing in particular, anxiety rising in your chest.

“Just wasn’t a great guy.”

“That why you don’t date pro-heroes?” His eyes narrow, assessing your reactions.

“Well, that, and the whole constant worry about whether or not they’ll come home every night.” He says nothing. “Then the whole… job thing. It’s generally frowned upon to date guys from the club.” You add with a half hearted laugh.

“Didn’t stop you before,” he points out.

“Lesson learned,” your expression is solemn, and he sighs, pulling you into him tightly and wished he could let you know that he was different. That he wouldn’t hurt you, and he’d do everything in his power to keep you safe and happy. That he was one of the best fuckin’ pro heroes and he’d always come home to you.

Instead he just holds you against him, memorizing the curves of your body until it’s time for him to go.

You walk with him to the door, sharing one last hug before he squeezes your hand goodbye and leaves.

In the dressing room, you slowly remove your dance shoes with an exhale of relief. Another dancer you know as River rolls her eyes at you, glaring at the lingerie that you’re wearing.

“How’d you do it?” A slight sneer plays on her lips, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the lockers.

“Do what?” Your voice is laced with impatient agitation.

“You just really good at suckin’ dick?” You balk a little at this, mouth agape.

“I don’t fuck clients,” you snap, tossing your shoes into you bag.

“You fucked Shindou.” Her eyes exaggeratedly wide, cocking her head to the side. You hiss something through gritted teeth before averting your gaze and pulling on your street clothes.

“That was different.” You mutter, hints of shame weighing your voice down.

“Sure it was.” She rolls her eyes, standing up straighter. “Look, I don’t care what you do, but you’ve got a lot of girls in here pissed at you.”

“Sounds like a them problem.” You retort dryly.

“We’ll see.” She shrugs before leaving the room, and the rage that had been building in your chest unleashed itself as you slammed your fists down on the counter, breathing heavily. You wipe the tears from your eyes, checking yourself over before throwing your bag over your shoulder and heading home.

———-

The next couple days are busy ones for both you and Bakugou, him with hero work and you with school. He’s accepted the fact that you won’t text him unless it’s related to work, and he has to stop himself from asking you how you’re doing every few hours.

He worries about you when he doesn’t hear from you for a couple days, but it’s always just

Bakugou: working tonight?

You: no, I have some really important tests coming up.

He can’t help but wonder if you actually have a boyfriend that you keep secret from him and if that’s the real reason you won’t meet him outside of the club. Or why you’re opposed to phone calls, or even friendly conversation.

It didn't bother him too much, he liked to think of himself as a good judge of character and he’d seen your organic chemistry books and the massive amounts of anatomy and physiology notes you lug around with you in your bag.

What bothered him more than any of that was the thought that some other hero had beat him to you, and seemingly turned you off of them forever. It drove him almost crazy, wondering just what your type was and what they’d done to you.

If he’d had your actual name maybe he could have done some more snooping and figured it out, but he didn’t even have that. Tonight though, he had been pressured into going out to a quiet bar with his friends- he’d been spending more and more time away from them for reasons he kept to himself.

But tonight, at the bar, after a few beers he leans over to Kirishima, a thoughtful expression etched on his face.

“Hey, shittyhair,” he taps him lightly on the back of the head. “How well d’you know Aria? Said she dated a pro hero awhile ago,”

“Oh, is that where you’ve been?” He wore a shit eating grin on his face, “be careful with those girls, they’re masters at taking your money.” Bakugou scowled.

“Ain’t like that, fuck face. An’ that ain’t what I asked.”

Kirishima shrugged.

“I don’t know much about her, I’ve only met her a few times. She’s never mentioned that.” Bakugou grumbled, sitting back in his chair and sipping his beer. Kirishima signed, patting his friend on the shoulder lightly.

“I wouldn’t count too much on her, a lot of them are liars and-“

“Shut it, y’don’t know her. Only thing she’s lied about is her name.”

Kirishima treads carefully with his words, picking them out with discretion.

“In fairness, neither do you. I’m just lookin out for ya, bro.” He smiles, a pitying smile that makes anger boil in his chest. “But you could be right, it’s not like it’s never worked out for anyone before.” He shrugs, gulping from his own bottle hungrily. “If you really like her, it’s worth a shot.” He smiles again, genuinely this time, and Bakugou snorts, sipping his beer.

A few hours later, he’s drunkenly stumbling into his apartment, pulling off his shirt and collapsing back onto his bed, thinking of you. There’s no thought process as he pulls out his phone and begins to text you,

Bakugou: I miss you

Bakugou: Hope you're okay

When you don’t respond right away, apprehension nibbles at him and prods him to send another.

Bakugou: sorry for messaging, just had some drinks with friends and cant stop thinkin bout you

Bakugou: wish you coulda come with tonight, be better company than fuckin shitty hair

He palms the semi hard on he has in his boxers, a darkening spot where pre had begun to gather. Groaning, he pulled out his cock, wrapping a large hand around it, giving a few half hearted pumps and running his thumb along the tip spreading the pearlescent liquid, imagining that it’s you instead. He wondered if your hand would even be able to fit around his girth.

He wished he had pictures of you he could look at, but he didn’t even have that- just memories of you washed in the strobing neon lights of a dark club. The shine of your lipgloss and the smell of your hair haunted him, following him home on unwashed clothing. God, what he’d give to see that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around his cock, his hand pressing down on the back of your head as he thrust his hips up into your throat.

His hand moved quicker, filling the room with lewd sounds as a low moan ripped through his chest.

The ghost of your touch, the thought of your hips hovering over his as he pressed the fat tip of his cock into your tight entrance. Imagining the way your head would fall back in violent pleasure as he filled you completely.

Fuck, the way he wanted to hear you screaming his name, his first name, under him while his cock split you in two.

He reached his other hand down to grab at his balls as they tightened, nearing his orgasm, grunting, chest heaving as hot ropes of cum shot across his stomach, glistening globs of it clinging to the fine hairs scattered across his abdomen.

Collapsing in the twisted sheets, he waited for his breathing to even out before he grabbed a towel to clean himself off. There’s a soft light as his phone alerted him to a new message.

He hastily unlocked his phone, and saw that it was from you, your name at the top of the screen making his stomach churn.

You: Hey, Bakugou, sorry I’ve been so busy. I hope you had a good time with your friends!

He huffs, leaning back onto his headboard as he typed his response, closing one eye to focus his blurred vision on the bright screen,

Bakugou: would have been more fun with you

Another few minutes go by without a response. He taps the call button, trying his luck.

After a few more rings, he’s about to give up when the line clicks to life on the other side.

“Bakugou?” He hears your voice and his heart nearly skips a beat. His mouth goes dry as he attempts to swallow.

“S’right, I uh… wanted to hear from ya.” He curses himself, wishing he had something better to say. You giggle a little.

“Are you drunk?”

“…Maybe a little.” He admits.

“Mmm, I hope you got home safe.”

“You know I did, princess.” You smile on the other end of the line, pushing yourself back from your desk. There’s a few moments of silence before he blurts out, “D’ya not wanna see me cuz you got a boyfriend or somethin’?” He sits up, muscles tense as he waits for your response.

“Huh? No, I told you why, Bakugou.” He groans loudly, falling back on the mattress.

“Quit fuckin’ callin’ me that.” The whine in his voice is so unlike him, you laugh despite yourself.

“I’m just trying to be professional.”

“Fuck that,” he rasps, staring at the ceiling. It’s quiet again. “D’ya even like me?” Voice almost imperceptibly soft.

You’re quiet a little longer, unsure of how to answer. Of course you did, probably more than you should.

“I like you a lot, Bakugou.” You finally say, so quietly he almost can’t hear it.

“Who hurt you so bad you won’t even let me take you out for dinner?” His voice is a little more commanding this time, but not unkind.

“Maybe I’ll tell you eventually, it’s not that important.”

“It is to me, fucker’s not even around and he’s keepin’ me from the best thing that could happen to me,”

“I’m not that special,” Your voice is low, serious.

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me? You have no fuckin’ clue what you do to me, and you better stop fuckin’ talkin’ like that about yourself.” His voice is almost a growl and it sends shivers through your body.

“Or what…?” You can’t help the tease that sneaks into your voice.

“Or I’m gonna have to do somethin’ about it.” He rasps.

Your fingers press against your clothed slit as it throbs with want. You try to play it off with a breathless laugh.

“Mmm that so?”

He hums lowly in response, and you can barely suppress a whimper building in your chest. You felt warmth spread from your center and ache for attention. Maybe after you hung up-

“Goodnight, Bakugou.”

“Night princess.”

There’s another moment of silence between you two before you finally hang up.

——

It’s nearly noon before you wake up the next morning, you’d been up incredibly late working on a paper and your body ached from the prolonged period of time you’d spent in your desk chair, hunched over your laptop.

Out of habit you reach for your phone, expecting it to be devoid of messages, but there’s a notification from Bakugou.

Bakugou: morning, sorry for last night. I was a little tipsy.

You: It’s okay, it was good to hear from you.

You put your phone down to get ready for the day, run some errands before heading into work for the night.

By the time you’re stepping out of the shower, there’s another message waiting for you.

Bakugou: hope I can see you tonight.

You: I’ll be there at 8 :) looking forward to it.

Bakugou: better be.

You smiled, shaking your head and went about your day. It was getting harder and harder to push thoughts of Bakugou from your mind, and you hoped beyond hope that you wouldn’t have to cut him off as a client because of your feelings, but it was looking more possible by the day.

Your anxiety raged in your mind with everything that could go wrong, and that had already gone wrong. What would happen if you fell helplessly in love with him? How bad would it hurt when he inevitably found someone who could love him back in the way he wanted? You couldn’t in good conscience string him along knowing how he felt, and cursed yourself for caring about him.

That was the other thing- what about when he got hurt? What if something horrible happened to him? You couldn’t bear the thought of it.

By the time you’re switching over your laundry to the dryer, the doubts had only grown, festering in your chest until the butterflies in your stomach turned into a noxious pit.

This wasn’t good, you were already catching flak at work for your relationship with Bakugou, and the history with Shindou still haunted you. You still caught whispers and snarky comments for it here and there, a poltergeist you couldn’t sage.

Nobody really knew the full details of what had happened, of how he’d been to you behind closed walls and how he had made you out to be a gold digging villain. Nobody knew how he’d hurt you and take advantage of you after getting you too drunk. Those details were always left out, hidden, covered up.

You slammed the dryer shut in frustration, resolving to end your work relationship with Bakugou, despite the clawing at your heart that begged to get closer. Shoving the feelings away, you reminded yourself that the last time you’d let someone in, it had nearly destroyed you.

You hadn’t picked the broken pieces of yourself back up and fixed yourself for no reason. You still had too much to accomplish to let another cocky pro hero derail you again.

By the time you’d returned from the grocery store, you had resolved to have a talk with Bakugou and try to end things amicably, it wouldn’t bode well for you to make an enemy of someone in such a high place, it was already hard enough to wash yourself of the reputation Shindou had branded you with.

You pull your phone from your purse and press the call button by Bakugou’s name and it immediately goes to voicemail. Trying one more time, it ends after a few rings.

Bakugou: at work, I’ll call you when I can.

Bakugou: everything alright?

You: yeah, I’m fine, just needed to talk.

‘Shit’. You wanted to rip the bandaid off, not let it fester longer. But you were running out of time, and had to get ready for work.

Even after you got there, your nerves hadn’t settled and every person that walked in had you jumping slightly in your seat. It’s after midnight before Bakugou gets there, smelling heavily of gunpowder and sweat.

“Rough day..?” you hesitated.

“It wasn’t too bad,” he assures you with a lopsided smile. You nod.

“Bakugou, I uh-“ He senses the reticence in your tone.

“This about why you tried to call earlier?” He interrupts you, suddenly serious.

“Ah, yeah.” your voice wavered under her vermillion gaze. “Listen I uh, I like you,” he turned his body to square yours, narrowing his eyes as his brows knit together in full concentration, “Too much, and I think it’s probably best if you… stop coming to see me.” You finish your sentence in a rush, staring at the bar counter as your eyes begin to water and your throat tightens into a vice.

Bakugou feels like everything had just come crashing down around him, lightheaded and confused, aghast at your confession.

“This about last night?” His voice a low rasp.

“No, I mean, kinda… no.” You add with more conviction. “I just can’t afford to do this again.”

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” confusion evident on his face. “This about the asshole you used to date? Cuz I told you I ain’t like whoever that fuckin’ jackass was,” he grabs your wrists, pulling you closer.

“I-I just, it’s still a lot, people at work still give me a hard time and I just started getting clients back after he ruined my name and-“

“Who?” His voice is deadly serious, eyes smoldering, burning into yours as he gripped your chin with a calloused hand and forced you to look at him. “He hurt you?”

You swallow and it feels like sand.

“Who the fuck was it, Aria?” The stage name feels like a knife in your heart.

“I’m sure if you ask around you’ll hear plenty of stories…”

He breathes deeply, pulling you into his chest forcefully, hand on the back of your head, tucking it beneath his chin.

“I don’t care about anything those dicks have to say,” He assured you.

“Please, Bakugou… please go.” Tears stream from your eyes as you push him away from you, his face flashing through a mixture of pain, confusion, and anger. You wipe your eyes delicately so as not to ruin your makeup, resigned to finishing your shift heartbroken. “Go, before I ask the bouncers to do it.” Your voice wavers, betraying you. He snorts,

“Like to see them fuckin’ try.”

Your eyes plead with him, not to make this any harder and his expression frantically searches yours, trying to ascertain your level of conviction before you look away from him, eyes downcast.

He stands abruptly, angrily shoving his chair back into the bar so hard it cracks and several people turn to watch the spectacle.

He slams the door behind him, and you’re keenly aware of the glances and whispers thrown your way. Fixing your hair and pulling yourself up straight, you snap at them,

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Or is your life that fucking boring?” Snatching up your bag, you chug your glass of liquor and hide in the dressing room for a while.

———-

“What the fuck, Bakugou?” Kaminari shouts at him over the sound of a crashing wall. A blast from him had just caused it to collapse and several bricks had narrowly missed their heads.

“Keep up, and it won’t matter,” Bakugou snapped, taking off after the small group of villains they’d been pursuing. Mina managed to trap one of them, knocking him unconscious with a kick to the back of his head.

“Just because you have a death wish doesn’t mean we do,” She seethed at him.

Bakugou ignored her, promptly cornering the remaining two villains until a flash of ice swept in front of him, freezing them in place. His head whipped around to see the scowling face of Shouto before him.

“I didn’t need your fuckin’ help, half n half bastard,” He glowered, sparks snapping around him as he seethed.

“Could have fooled me.” His calm demeanor did nothing to assuage the blonde. “You’re lucky I was nearby before you did any more damage.”

“Fuck off.” He snarled, shoving past him.

“Bakugou,” Todoroki called over his shoulder, “whatever this is about, you need to get past it. This can’t keep happening.”

“Yeah? You’re not my fuckin’ boss, last I checked.” Shouto sighed, greeting the police as they rounded the corner and he briefed them on the situation.

Mina and Kaminari had managed to catch up, breathing heavily.

“Dude, he’s right, you’re gonna get hurt.” Denki tried to place a hand on Bakugou's arm before it was promptly shoved away.

“We’re all worried about you, you know?” Mina admitted, still angry, but trying adopt an air of sympathy.

“I’m fuckin’ fine.” He practically snarled, before turning his back to them and stalking off.

“He’s going to get hurt.” The voice of Shouto startled them from behind, where he watched Bakugou leaving, expression unreadable. He had been witness to Bakugou's growth over the years, and seeing this side of him brought him back to their first year at Yuuei, and it didn’t bode well in the world of pro hero work.

“He’s hurting pretty bad,” Denki tried to sound sympathetic, but the knot forming on his head made it a little difficult.

Shouto looked him over wordlessly,

“If he can’t keep it out of work, someone’s going to get hurt. More than a simple bruise.”

Denki sighed, shaking his head. They all knew he was right, just not how soon it would happen.

It’s only three days later when Bakugou is head to head with another villain, this one stronger than any that had popped up in Musutafu area in recent weeks, his quirk gave him some kind of gravity control on living beings, and several heroes had already fallen behind in the rubble.

Bakugou had blindly chased him onto the roof of a skyscraper, bloodied and battered. One of his grenade gauntlets had started to malfunction. He took a step to leap forward when his foot suddenly felt like lead, and he was crashing through floor after floor of the building, unable to catch himself or stop his descent.

His vision got blurry as he faded in and out of consciousness, the sound of voices, and sirens faded into the background. He remembered being put into a stretcher, and everything else after that was black.

For a week after, he was in and out of consciousness. Flashes of angry fluorescent lights and the shrill, steady beeping of machines. Compared to these, the darkness feels welcoming.

Several friends came to visit him, Deku spending nearly all of his free time by his bedside, hunched over with his head between his knees.

Sometimes Bakugou muttered something unintelligible, and it's another few days before anyone can make out what he’s saying.

“You gotta get through this,” Deku murmurs, “we’re all rooting for you.” It’s a heavy few minutes that pass, the ticking of a clock as loud as thunder in his ears. “You gotta get fitted for your suit for my wedding.” His eyes started to threaten tears as he took in a shaky breath.

Bakugou’s eyes opened, blearily taking in the room around him, groaning as he tried to sit up, a mess of tubes and wires taped to his body.

“Fuckin’ nerd.” He grunted, voice hoarse.

“Kaachan?” Izuku’s head snapped to attention, kneeling by his bedside.

“Aria, where is she?” Is all he can manage before pain wracked his body and he collapsed back onto the bed. “Where is she..?” He opened one eye to meet Deku’s, who looked at him with brows knit in confusion. He thought the name sounded familiar, but it had been so long since he’d heard it that he couldn’t place it.

“Aria?” He repeats.

“The girl from your bachelor party,” he coughs, gripping his ribs tightly. “Her number is in my phone.”

“Oh… your phone got destroyed in the accident.”

“Shit.” He hissed through a clenched jaw.

“I can send someone to go find her?” Izuku suggested lightly and Bakugou nodded, closing his eyes before he fell back asleep.

———

It had been over a month since you’d last heard from Bakugou, and it hurt. It was your decision, so you really had no right to complain and instead buried yourself in work and school.

Still, you often found yourself unblocking him on your phone after a few too many drinks, only to block him again when you woke up sober, checking to make sure you hadn’t sent any messages.

Some part of you hoped that he’d burst through the doors of the club to come see you, demand your attention and refuse to leave.

But he didn’t, and your pride would never allow you to ask him to come back, so you dealt with the dull ache living in your chest.

After a few weeks, you had accepted that he wasn’t coming back and that it was nothing but a beautiful memory, content to leave it at that. Or at least that’s what you’d been telling yourself.

It isn’t even nine o’ clock when a red headed hero you vaguely recognize comes bursting through the front doors, still in his hero costume. Several patrons and dancers turn and chatter quickly erupts between them.

He searched the room, and the moment he made eye contact with you he froze, and beelined for you. Your eyes widened, taking note of the pained expression on his face and a thousand thoughts crashed through your mind.

“Hey,” He pants, a little breathless.

“Hi? You’re uh, Bakugou’s-“

“His friend, yeah.” He nodded, speaking hurriedly. “Listen, Bakugou had an accident and he’s uh, he’s been asking for you. He’s okay right now!” He added quickly, catching notice of your expression. “He’s awake and everything now.”

“What happened?” Your heart felt like it stopped, or like it had dropped into your stomach, or like you were about to throw it up on the floor- or maybe all of them at the same time.

You listen to him recount the situation and move to grab your things, but he stops you, placing a calm hand on your arm.

“You can stop by tomorrow,” You look at him like he’s stupid, shaking your head.

“I’m going now.”

“You can’t, visiting hours are over.” He sighs, recognizing the indignance on your face. “Look, he’s probably sleeping by now. We would have called you earlier but nobody had your number or knew your real name so…”

“So you had to wait to come find me at work.” You finish his sentence for him, regret twisting in your stomach. He nodded.

“So, tomorrow? If you need a ride one of us can come get you.”

“I can just take the train.”

“If you insist,” He doesn’t try to force you, but gave you his number to text you the details of the hospital and left you there to marinate in your remorse.

———-

You didn’t sleep very well that night, if at all, but the second you’re awake, you’re rushing to get ready to leave, unbothered with makeup or getting your hair done. You threw a small bag together and headed out of the door to make your way to the train station.

Your gaze is listless and glassy as you stand, hand gripping the support on the train, dread in your stomach growing until it felt like you had swallowed stones that sat heavy in your stomach.

The walk up to the hospital felt like an endless journey ahead of you, the sidewalk seeming to morph and stretch and grow longer with each step until you’re at the doors of his hospital room, reaching a shaking hand forward to push it open.

When you finally entered, he’s there, sitting up on a pillow and reading a book, all bandages and casts and tubes and machines.

“Bakugou,” You gasped, gripping your bag tightly. He turned to face you, expression softening ever so slightly. You raced over to him, gripping his hand in yours until your knuckles went white. “How do you feel?” You felt hot tears falling down your cheeks and you sniffled, reaching forward to place a delicate hand to his cheek.

“I’m alright, princess. Told ya, one of the best.” He grimaces as pain shoots through his side, but makes every attempt to hide it from you. You have the grace to pretend not to notice.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He shrugs.

“S’alright, glad you’re here now.” You attempt a smile through stifled sobs.

Wiping your tears, you grip the front of his hospital gown, trying to muster some kind of anger at him and failing.

“Why’d you have to go and do something so stupid?” Your laugh is choked with sorrow and it hurt him to hear it.

“Didn’t think you’d care so much, Aria.” He rumbled and laughed, raspy and comforting. The sound of your dancer name made you wince and you told him your real one. “Only gonna call you that if ya start calling me Katsuki.”

“Alright, Katsuki.” You nodded, promising him.

“Can I kiss you now?” He scrunches his nose, furrowing his brow and you giggle, leaning over him and for the first time your lips met.

His fingers card through your hair, pushing your head to the side to fit his lips against yours. Your lips move, softly and slowly against his, gripping the front of his shirt tightly.

He pressed himself more firmly against you, parting his mouth to swipe his tongue across your lips and beg for entry- and you let him in. His teeth graze against your bottom lip and a soft moan escaped you, and he smirks, swallowing it in his own open, hungry mouth.

It’s several minutes before you pull yourselves apart, lips bruised and swollen from the intensity of the kiss and you stroked his hair, admiring the shades of crimson in his gaze.

“Missed you,” he mumbled, thumb brushing against your cheek.

“I missed you, too, Katsuki.” Your admission has you both reeling, you buried your face in his neck and breathed him in. The smell is familiar and makes you feel like you were home again, bittersweet nostalgia like heroin in your veins. “Sorry if I look awful, I didn’t really take the time to-“

“Shut up,” he swats your head, “You really think I give a shit about that?”

“Guess you’re not really in a position to judge.” You giggle and he rolls his eyes.

“Alright, smartass.” He took in your visage a moment more, hoping to himself that this wasn’t a dream and that you were really here, standing in front of him. Instead of pinching himself, he flicks you on the forehead, and regains some of his snark.

“Ow,” you rub your forehead.

“Ya gonna let me take you on a fuckin’ date now.” You give him a half smile, eyes glittering behind tears.

“If you get better, then I promise I will.”

“You got it, princess.” He smirks, before pressing another kiss to your forehead.

—————

His recovery isn’t fast, but it isn’t necessarily slow, either.

You tell him about your quirk for the first time and about why you had chosen your area of study. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been curious about it, and getting to know all the little things about you was something he cherished, even if he teased you for it.

You told him that you’d use it to help him, but that it was considered unethical until you had your license. He wouldn’t say it, but it was something he admired about you and reminded him of the days before he got his hero license.

Even if sometimes he wished you’d use it to ease his pain just a little bit.

“You’re a lot shorter without those heels,” he remarked, mussing your hair on the top of your head, swatting his hand away.

There were some things you still wouldn’t talk about, like family and your ex- that he was careful to tread lightly around. You’d tell him when you were ready, he assumed.

You often came around during his physical therapy sessions, conversation helping to keep his mind off of how hard it was for him at times.

“Bet you can’t cook for shit,” He taunted through painfully gritted teeth as he stretched his body, one arm over his head, torso twisted and elongated.

“I could cook circles around you.” You retorted, watching as his muscles twitched and relaxed with each stretch. He was fucking beautiful, and it made you long to run your fingers over the fine lines and veins on his body. You wanted to place loving kisses over each and every scar and wondered about the ones you couldn’t see.

“Guess you’ll have to come over and prove it, then.” He smirked, watching your cheeks turn pink and you shrugged shyly.

“Maybe I will.”

He was allowed to leave the hospital about a week later, and you were there to meet him as he finished packing his things.

“Hungry?” You asked, smoothing the sheets over the mattress he had slept on for so long, he dwarfed it by comparison and seeing him stand you realized how much larger than you he really was now that he was able to pull his powerful frame fully upright.

“Thought you said you were gonna cook for me?” He slips his bag over his shoulder, looking you up and down as you stammer for words.

You were excited, terrified, at the prospect of being alone with him in his house. He snorted, swatting you lightly on the side of your head.

“I’ll cook for you this time, idiot.” You blushed, as he took your hand in his and led you out the front doors of the hospital. Anxiety gripped your heart as you anticipated a swarm of paparazzi to be waiting outside, but there were none.

Katsuki watched you from the corner of his eye and snorted.

“Don’t wanna be seen with me?” His voice was light, and teasing but your expression darkened and he tilted his head as concern colored his gaze.

“It’s not that.” You didn’t want to explain to him about the ghosts in your past that could resurrect at any moment, that you worried the second they found out about your new life they’d come back to ruin your happiness again. You’d done your best to leave them behind, but the past was never quite dead.

“Hmm,” He hums, squeezing your hand tightly. His car had been dropped off for him and he unlocked it, letting you clamber inside.

“It feels strange to be in a car,” You murmur, running your hands along the fine leather seats.

“You took the train here every day?” He asked, mildly surprised.

“Mhmm.” You look out the window until you realize that he’s still staring at you. “What? There’s nothing wrong with public transport.” He shook his head as he started the car.

“Did you need to stop at the grocery store first?”

“No.” He scoffs, “I get them delivered.”

“Oh.” Your voice is soft and it dawns on you just how different his life was from yours.

“Did you need anythin’?”

“No, I’m alright.”

You finish the drive in relative silence, listening to the radio as it played quietly and he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

When you pull up to the building you can’t help but gasp, mouth open slightly and he snickers, getting out and handing the valet his keys. It’s modern, and slightly grand and you feel a little out of place here, but he takes your hand in his again, rubbing small circles against your palm.

His apartment itself isn’t very opulent, minimal high quality furniture with subtle displays of wealth. Nice clothes, gaming systems, and a computer set up that looks like it must have cost a lot of money.

He tosses his bag down by the couch and pads softly into the kitchen, opening cabinets and pulling out various ingredients, pots and pans, and you seat yourself at the island.

“This is really nice.”

He shrugs.

“I get by.” You scoff, shaking your head and he smirks.

He begins prepping the food and you watch him, admiring the subtle ways he moves and the way his hair falls across his face. Your stomach twists and a feeling you can’t fully describe takes hold of you, something heavy and tangible in the air.

Being alone like this with him, the intimacy of domesticity was something you never thought you’d see from the pro hero, and it filled you with warmth.

The curry he’d made was already spicy, but you gaped at him as he added a significant amount more to his own.

“Jesus,” you breathed.

“Scared?” Your eyes narrow as you snatch the bottle from his hands and pour a hefty amount into your own and he laughs as your eyes water when you take a bite.

“S’good.” You manage and he nods.

“Better be.”

You help him do the dishes and dry your hands when you finish. He reaches up to a cabinet above the fridge and pulls down a bottle of expensive whiskey and two crystal glasses.

“A lot better than the shit you got at your club,”

You sip it, following him to the couch and sigh contentedly when he pulls you into his chest, warm and secure. You hum as you nestle your face in the crook of his neck, shuddering when he places a warm kiss against your jawline. You return the favor against the pulse point of his neck. You feel him hum beneath you, adjusting your body with his hands on your hips so that you’re facing him.

“You really are fuckin’ beautiful,” He murmurs, vermillion eyes holding you in place.

“You’re one to talk,” You mumble, watching as his chin tilts forward, he pushes the pleats of your skirt up over your hips and his hand draws back to land a harsh slap on your ass, pulling a strained whimper from you.

“What’d I say about talkin’ about yourself like that?”

Your eyes water as he slaps your ass again.

“I asked you a question, princess,” his voice is dripping with condescension and it makes your clit throb.

“S-sorry,”

“Sorry, what?” His hand lands against you again, pleasure blooming along side pain when his other hand pressed against your clothed slit, taunting you with light movements.

“Sorry, daddy?” You try, looking up at him for approval, eyes glittering with tears and a desire to please that leaves him breathless.

‘Good girl,’ he thinks.

“That’s right,” He rasps against your ear, moving his hand to press your hips down onto his half hard cock, rewarding you. You whine helplessly, grinding your hips against his, desperate for some kind of friction to quell the aching heat between your thighs.

He trails open mouthed kisses down your neck, biting at the sensitive spot near your collarbone, and you moan, fingers digging into his hair.

He holds you against him tightly, leaning you back, pressing himself on top of you, fingers finding their way to the hem of your shirt. He slips his hand underneath it, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe, light headed and unable to believe what was happening.

It felt unreal, to be here in his apartment, alone, and god he felt so good against you, his skin swelteringly hot and his weight was comforting as it pinned you in place.

You yelp a little as he shoves his hand under your bra, pinching your nipples lightly as his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of your neck. You reach your shaky hands down to pull your shirt off and he helps you pull it over your head, deft hands reaching behind you and unclasping your bra.

He doesn’t waste any time closing his mouth around one of your sensitive nipples, sucking and pulling it lightly with his teeth while his other hand roughly massaged your other neglected breast, thumb rubbing circles over its stiffening peak.

You tried to grind your bare sex needily against his thigh but he swiftly halted your movements with one powerful hand on your hips.

“Oh fuck,” you groaned as he released your nipple and you shuddered when the cool air met wet skin. He leaned back, getting to his knees on the floor as he pulls your legs over his shoulders, placing kisses on alternating thighs, tauntingly close to your aching heat. He pressed one finger against your underwear, savoring the way it gathered your slick and grew dark with your lust.

“So needy,” He teased, biting near the apex of your thighs, hands holding your thighs apart as they fought to close around him. He hummed against you, breathing in deeply and you felt your walls spasming around nothing. He removed your panties in one fluid motion, nuzzling his face against your warmth, tasting you with small, rough licks that had you mewling and your toes curling.

He pulled his face away, running his ring finger lightly along your folds, gathering the slick that had your thighs sticky.

“God, you really are a messy little slut,” He growled, parting you with his finger and circling your entrance.

“Please, Katsuki,” your voice broke as you tried to grind your hips against his finger and guide them where you really wanted them.

There’s another sting as he slaps his hand against the side of your ass.

“Is that what you call me?”

“Daddy,” you gasped, feeling tears well in your eyes, “Please, daddy, I need you,”

“Need me, hah?”

He growled lowly, slowly slipping his finger into you and watched as your face contorted with pleasure, working you open slowly.

He joins it with another thick finger, scissoring them with agonizing slowness and dexterous fingers.

“Oh shit…”

Your whole body tensed when he licked a long, flat line up your slit, circling your sensitive mound and sucking on it softly, your nails raking against the fabric of the couch.

“Oh fuck, Daddy,” You whined, back arching and he hums against you, curling his fingers against that soft, spongey spot inside you that had you moaning an equal song of curses and praise, that made you abandon all sense and coherent speech.

His fingers picked up the pace and you felt the hot coil in your stomach tightening.

He watched you come undone, crimson eyes locking with yours, intent on bringing you over the edge.

“Daddy, please, I can’t- can I cum, please please please…” You whine, struggling to breathe, eyes rolling back into your head as he sucked harder on your clit, tongue moving expertly against it with a ravenous urgency. He hums his permission and after a few more harsh curls of his fingers he feels the tight walls of your cunt begin to flutter around them and you keen loudly, grinding your hips helplessly against his face as he helped you ride out the harsh waves of your orgasm.

He pulled away from you as you caught your breath, a darkening spot on his pants where pre had soaked through. He pulled you close to him, kissing you with more tenderness and care than you anticipated, tasting yourself on his lips. You take his fingers in his hands and suck on the softly, tongue swirling around them and closing your eyes.

“Holy fuckin’ shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He mumbled, picking you up in his arms and resuming the kiss as he carried you to the bedroom. He lay you down and your fingers fumbled with his belt buckle while he ripped his shirt off over his head. He stood before you now completely naked, all muscle and skin and sweat. Your breath caught in your throat and you moaned softly,

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured, trailing your fingers down the sparse hairs of his stomach to where his cock sat, thick and long and curved delicately upward, making your mouth water to taste him- and you do.

You trail the tip of your tongue from his balls down the underside along the veins, leading to the pink mushroomed tip, slipping it behind your lips and humming as he threw his head back with a groan.

He placed a rough palm against the back of your head as you took more of him, eyes watering when it hit the back of your throat. He pulled himself out before thrusting back in, holding your head with both hands as he fucked your mouth at a heavy pace.

“Shit, fuck, fuck,” He grunted, watching you, glassy eyed as you obediently sucked his cock, “Good fuckin’ girl,” he pants, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust. Your lungs are burning for air when he finally pulls himself away, cock thick and throbbing. He pumps his cock a few times, motioning with his chin, “Turn over,” and you do, ass in the air, waiting for him.

You feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he settles behind you. The sensation of his cock pressing against your slit has you pushing back against him, but he doesn’t give you any relief.

“Such an impatient little slut,” he coos, voice dripping with condescension as he ruts the length of his cock along your slit, spreading your slick. “God you really are a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He rasped, leaning his body over yours and you groaned.

“Please daddy, I can’t take it anymore,” You pressed your burning face into the pillows beneath you and he laughed cruelly.

“Poor little princess,” He ruts against you again, the head of his cock catching on your little bundle of nerves, sending jolts through your body. “How bad do you want me, hmm?” His voice lilts, taunting you.

“S-so bad, daddy, please… I’ll do anything.” Your eyes are watering now, driven mad by the anticipation building again in your body, impetuous hips pressing back against his length.

“Think you can take it, princess?” He practically spits the last word at you.

“Know I can,” you screw your eyes shut, gripping the sheets tightly. That answer seems to satisfy him, as he lines himself up with you aching center, slowly pushing the fat head of his cock inside you, reveling in the way your breath hitches and your body tenses up around him. He pulls away slightly before giving shallow, deliberate thrusts into your taut muscles.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, angel,” His voice is strained, “Chokin’ my fuckin’ cock with your perfect little cunt, takin‘ me so well,” You whimper, adjusting to the stretch as he manages to bury himself into you entirely, stilling his movements for a moment. His cock is heavy, and you feel so fucking full, brain devoid of any thoughts that aren’t Katsuki.

He pulls back, feeling the way your silky walls try to suck him back into you, thrusting forward and pulling your hips back in time with his movements and you keen loudly as his cock presses against your cervix.

He sets a moderate pace, eyes half lidded as he watches you writhe beneath him, babbling incoherently.

“F-feels, feels so so good, daddy,” you whine pathetically.

“Y-yeah, baby, fuckin’, fuckin’ know it does,” He pants as he picks up the pace slightly, cock dragging along your walls, a white ring of cream building in his coarse hair. He fucked you forecully, hips snapping into yours as he held you up against him, pulling your back flush with his. He slows his pace, roughly massaging your breasts as he moves languidly in and out of you, leaving just the tip of his cock buried each time before canting his hips forward again.

“Oh, f-fuck,” The pleasure was unimaginable, and when he pressed a heavy palm against your abdomen you felt your body begin to shake. He brushed a rough thumb over your clit and you moaned, high pitched and breathy,

“Too much, daddy, I-I s’too much, please,” Tears began to flow freely down your cheeks as he bit down on your shoulder, pain blurring with pleasure.

“Such a good little slut for me,” He mumbles against your throat before pulling out of you and flipping you onto your back, setting himself between your folds, forcing your legs up onto his shoulders. He doesn’t wait to shove his cock back into you, and a scream dies in your throat as he fucks the air from your lungs and the only sounds are skin slapping against skin.

“Made to take my cock,” he breathed against your ear.

He pressed his weight down onto you, breath coming in ragged pants as sweat coated his brow from the effort of his movements.

“God, fuckin tight little cunt, feel s’fuckin’ good,” The filth falling from his lips made your body burn.

“D-don’t stop, daddy, please don’t stop,” Your breasts bounced from the ferocity of his thrusts, bed frame slamming against the wall.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ stop, never wanna leave your fuckin’ cunt,” he grunted, feeling his own orgasm draw dangerously near, “Fuck you into the shape of my cock, my good girl.” He emphasized the possessive, pressed every inch of himself into you with deliberate thrusts, abdomen brushing against your clit and any thought that wasn’t him was gone from your mind- all you could manage was a string of

“Daddy, daddy, please, fuck me,”

“Gonna fuckin’ cum on daddy’s cock?” He rasped, gripping your hair in his fist, pulling back on it roughly when he felt you clench tightly around him. “Wanna cum again, you greedy thing?” All you could manage was a choked sob and nodded in response as he fucked you into the mattress. “Cum on my fuckin’ cock, then, come on,” His thrusts were becoming erratic as he got impossibly hard inside of you and you reached shaking fingers down to rub messy circles against your swollen clit.

You keened loudly as your orgasm ripped through you and you dug little half moons into his back with your nails, sobbing as the waves of pleasure washed through your body and he fucked you through your second orgasm. You’re still dizzy, vision blurred from the mixture of tears and pleasure as his muscles tensed. He moved to pull out but you tightened your legs around him,

“Katsuki, please, cum in me,” His expression darkened, eyes a conflagration of lust hearing his name, a breathy moan on your lips.

“Want me to breed your slutty little cunt?” He groaned loudly, and it made you ache and throb around him, “Dirty fuckin’ slut wants me to breed her, hah? That what you want?” There’s an urgency to his movements now, his desire to mark you as his, overrides every other thought and it’s enough to send him over the edge as he spilled inside you with a low growl, movements slowing into deep, purposeful thrusts, fucking his cum deeper into your sex.

“God, I fuckin’ love you,” he breathed, and you stiffened a little, caught slightly off gaurd. Was it just the haze of sex, the post orgasm dizziness that made him say… that?

He lay on top of you, both of you panting and struggling to catch your breath, placing hot, wet kisses against each other's bodies. His lips crashed heavily against yours, teeth clicking and noses pressed roughly together. He pulled away and your heart ached at the lack of contact as he pulled his softening cock from you with a lewd squelch.

“Katsuki?” You murmured, just barely a whisper.

“Hmm?” He stood, grabbing a towel to clean the both of you off.

“Did you mean it?” He studied your pensive expression.

“That I love you?”

“Mhm.” He closed the distance between you, taking your jaw in his hands and forced you to meet his gaze, hot coals glowing with emotion.

“Yeah, I’m in love with ya,” He says, sincerely.

“I… I love you, too, Katsuki.”

He leaned down and kissed you tenderly, before tapping your ass lightly and pulling away, holding your hand in his.

“Let’s take a shower, you’re all fuckin’ sticky.”

———————-

There’s a few days where you’re blissfully, indescribably happy. There really isn’t much that could be done to ruin your mood. You went through the day, feeling light and as if the ground beneath you were made of clouds.

But of course, it can’t last.

Of course, the past you’d been running from would catch up to you as soon as you’d stopped to appreciate the life you’d built around you.

It’s a simple text message from an unknown number that reads,

Unknown: does your new boy toy know about us? does he know what a slut you are?

Unknown: maybe he should get a look at the videos I have.

Your heart sinks, and you quickly delete and block the number, hands shaking.

It’s nothing, can’t mean anything, it’s just someone messing with you, certainly.

It isn’t until you’re checking out of a grocery store when a magazine cover catches your eye, and you freeze, squinting at the pictures plastered across the front.

They’re of you and Katsuki, walking out of the hospital, and another of the two of you walking into his apartment building.

Your mouth goes dry as you pick it up with shaking hands.

The cashier waves, calling you forward, and you put it back, hiding it behind a different magazine.

“Oh, sorry,” you fumble with your wallet as you pay and grab your bags, rushing out of the store.

‘This can’t be happening.’ You wanted to cry, to throw something, to disappear into the earth.

None of which happened, and you were still standing outside, mind reeling as a storm slowly began to roll in.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha smut #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki smut #katsuki smut

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim #53: Healing Right

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: recovery, (past) vampire whumper, broken bones, past loss of bodily autonomy, offscreen surgery, emotional whump

Whumpmas in July Day 18: Ache

back to this guy :)

-

Jim rubbed at the bump on his arm where the bone didn't heal quite right, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. The bone on his forearm went at an angle, up and up, before suddenly dropping off where it met misaligned with the rest of it going to his elbow. Bones, they'd told him there were two, but it was easier to just think of it as one.

It hurt, but it wasn't a bad hurt. Jim knew bad hurt. It was a dull ache he'd gotten used to over the past two years. It didn't hurt like the snap when Kane cracked Jim's arm open with his bare hands anymore, and he had pain meds now anyway. He'd tried to get on some stronger ones, but Liz had told him it wasn't a good idea, that he'd get hooked. Jim wasn't very good at disagreeing with people anymore, so he just took her word for it.

But he'd get some now for sure. Even Liz said it was okay this time. Because he had to get his arm re-broken.

Every day as the operation got closer, the dread grew more and more. He knew it wouldn't be like the first time. He'd be conked out, and he'd be allowed pain meds, real pain meds. It wasn't a punishment, and if all went well, his arm would be fixed. No reminder of Kane every time he looked at it. Probably no dull ache. It was even his own choice.

They couldn't fix the scar on his neck, neither the mark or the pain, so this was the best he could do to scrub off any lasting reminders Kane had left on his body. Liz's friend Laken had suggested a tattoo to cover it, but the idea of a needle going into his neck was so horrifying that the thought made him want to throw up.

But he could do this, at least. Even if breaking his arm again would be scary, he needed to claw his body back for himself. He needed to know it was his again, not Kane's. No matter how much it would hurt.

“I don’t belong to anyone. My body is mine. I’m out," Jim whispered to his reflection. Afraid to say it any louder, like Kane would be able to hear and swiftly correct him.

He got dressed, hiding his neck and arm under a turtleneck. He'd started dressing in them every day, though he knew he would need to take it off for the surgery. One more thing to dread about it, but he told himself it was worth it.

"You ready?" Liz asked as he came downstairs.

Jim shrugged. "As I'll ever be, I guess."

-

The operation was a success. If there was anything at all to thank Kane for, it would be that he'd made a relatively clean break.

Jim's arm hurt like hell when he woke, but he knew it wasn't as bad as it would be without the meds. He had a cast this time, and a real sling, not one he had to make himself. His friends kept wanting to sign the cast, but something about it made him wildly uncomfortable in a way he couldn't explain.

He knew the old him would have jumped at the chance to have all his friends sign it. Probably would have given out points for who could draw the best doodle. He was practically a social butterfly when he was nineteen, before Kane got to him, but now it just seemed like he kept finding more and more disconnects with his old friends. They had jobs and babies and memories of the past five years together, and all he had were Kane and panic attacks.

Even though his friends kept reaching out and inviting him to stuff, he was too neurotic to act like his old self. It felt like putting on an act, it felt wrong. And being his real self was even worse: he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want them to know.

His cast remained unmarked.

-

He woke with a scream a week after his surgery, his arm exploding with pain, far worse than it'd been during his recovery.

Jim looked around wildly, but couldn't see the source of the pain in the dark of his room. He sobbed, clutching his arm protectively to his chest. He'd been so badly-behaved lately that he couldn't even pinpoint what it was he was being punished for.

He flinched back into the headboard with a whimper as the door flew open. "Please don't," he begged, trembling.

"It's okay, it's just me," Liz soothed. She sat down next to him. "Nightmare again?"

"No, I don't- I don't think so?" Jim struggled to catch himself back up to reality, but with the haze of sleep leaving his mind and Liz's presence grounding him, he came to the conclusion it wasn't a punishment at all. "I hit my arm in my sleep," he realized. "Sorry for waking you. Didn't mean to."

"You're all good," Liz assured him. "I wasn't even asleep. Getting myself back on schedule for when I go back to work."

Jim's stomach turned at the thought, even though it was no surprise. "What if something happens to you?"

"Someone's gotta protect people from 'em. Plus, I know we live in the cheapest place in the country, but I've gotta get back to work," she pointed out.

"There's other jobs. I'll get one again too, once I'm better. You could just... not go back." As much as Jim hated living by the border, the fact that it was so cheap to live here at least gave them some leeway. At least they didn't have to worry about rent, even though selling the house was nearly impossible if they ever wanted to move.

Liz patted him on the back. "Not for me, there isn't. It'll be okay. I won't be alone, and I've been doing this for years with no issues."

"What about that?" Jim pointed to the scars on her face, faded claw-marks running dangerously close to her throat.

"That barely even counts. You should've seen the other guy. Dead, for what it's worth. Most vampires won't even fight us, they just decide it's not worth the trouble and run back home. It's gonna be fine." She gave him a quick hug. "You gonna be okay to go back to bed?"

"Yeah. Just... be safe. I can't lose you again," Jim said quietly.

Liz gave him a sad smile. "I know how you feel. I'll be as safe as I can. Just go back to sleep."

True to his disobedient streak, Jim couldn't manage to fall back asleep, mind racing with fear. Liz getting taken by vampires, subjected to the same hell as him, or having her mind stolen from her entirely. Kane showing back up to steal him away in the night while Liz is off fighting other vampires, arriving home too late to help. Jim reached a shaking hand under his pillow and took his stake- a real one this time- and held it close as he sobbed, trying to be quiet and not disturb Liz again.

He could only hope his arm would heal better than he was.

-

i'll be putting out two one-shots next! one about a fairy whumpee on friday, and one about an alien whumpee on monday. after that, more Jim in Distress!

event: @whumpmasinjuly

taglist in reblog!

#kane and jim #whump #vampire whumper #my writing #whumpmasinjuly2023 #wij23day18 #recovery whump #broken bones #emotional whump #whump writing