#ah… those bisexuals

[heartonxions]

CW: BLOOD!!!

ooh.. he’s a little fucked up actually.

i want her soooooo bad it’s crazy. anyways… her necklace thingy in their first outfit is a slay… honestly levy being a chunky necklace liker is so good (making shit up about her because i can) i love their pant outfits!! i wish she was drawn with pants more… i think they were all such slays (the like three times she wore them) i miss the old ft style so much

i think about the scene where she tells lucy she wouldn’t mind seeing her butt instead of her manuscript often…. levy… levy my bisexual gender mcfuck king..

[feminetomboy]

You all looked at Joui "I made out with a guy and a girl at a party once" Jouki and went "surely he wouldn't do that again"? Like cowards???

---

I know a lot of you "don't go here", but if you like the art, I'm amazingly glad regardless! Fanart is art like any other and if you just think my silly little drawing looks nice, without even knowing the blorbos, that means the world to me <3

[ingravinoveritas]

irvinis replied to your post "The fact that they made everyone leave the set..."

@ingravinoveritas correct me if I'm wrong. As far as I remember, M and D, as representatives of the old school, talked about “coordinators of intimate scenes” and so on. respecting boundaries as a surprising new trend? That is, they (as actors) didn’t really need to push everyone out the door.

martinsharmony replied to your post "The fact that they made everyone leave the set..."

do we know if there was in fact an intimacy coordinator used on this scene? I keep intending to check the credits. Also I love that it was a closed set because OF COURSE it was. It's an incredibly heavy scene - the heaviest in the entire series. So much emotion required from the actors. As actors, they deserve a closed set to get to the place they need to be in and exist there. I would say it was closed more for that then the kissing.

@irvinis @martinsharmony I'm not sure if it was ever confirmed whether an intimacy coordinator was used for this scene (either on the day of shooting, or in rehearsals beforehand). Intimacy coordinators are fairly standard on film sets these days as far as I know, but it sounds like it was only Rob (producer), Gavin (cinematographer), and Michael and David on the actual day. Which brings up so many questions about everything, like did Michael and David say they didn't need an intimacy coordinator, or was the kiss choreographed a certain way but then once the were kissing, just took off running with it ("it kept on going" was the exact phrase, I believe).

But I also wonder if the "This is happening!" moment almost went a bit like this...

That realization of that third thing that comes into being when Michael and David are together--and that would no doubt be even more powerful and noticeable in a deeply intimate situation like this. And if that is the case, then I would agree with your assertion @martinsharmony that perhaps the set was closed for more than just the kissing. Michael and David are professionals and superbly talented actors, without question. But it does make you wonder if they went to an intimate place emotionally--not just as the characters, but with each other--that was ultimately what necessitated that closed set.

We can't know exactly what Rob or Gavin saw in those takes that seemingly no longer exist (God, how I wish we could see them...). But even just this little insight that Rob has given is enough to make you wonder. So longing for the day when the SAG strike is resolved and Michael can finally tell us (mostly) everything we've been dying to know...

[undervaluedagent]

Little Burnsmithers drabble for writing practice :) (Monty POV):

Meeting Waylon Smithers Junior for the first time...

I had gone years without having an assistant by this point. After Waylon Senior's death, I felt it would be a fruitless endeavor to replace him. I felt no one else could truly care about me, and no one else could match me the way Waylon Senior did.

Oh how wrong I was, but strangely, only halfway on the latter point.

Smithers Senior, he was strong-minded, one of the only people willing to stand up to me, and the only one to ever be right about it. He was the only one I thought of as both an equal and a friend, despite his position technically being under me.

Smithers Junior did not seem like this at all. It was clear immediately upon meeting him, this man was a pushover, and was odd. His close-cut hair was dyed blue, he had "Manboo Stick notes" mixed in with some of his official papers, though I only caught a glimpse of them. He was a quiet man, Smithers Senior was too, but not in the same way. Suffice to say, he was only like my prior assistant in looks, and in name.

I quickly learned, however, that this was not true. Waylon Junior had just as much work ethic and ambition as his predecessor, if not more. This was clear even on the first meeting. And strangely, this twenty-something oddball charmed me. He may not have been what I expected, but I knew I had to have him regardless. It's a decision I haven't regretted for the twenty-odd years he's spent as my assistant, and perhaps, as my friend.

Though once again, I have lied. I do have some regrets. In recent years, I have become captivated by a queer longing for this man, this endlessly loyal man. Far more true than any woman (or even any man) I've had my brief flings with. Perhaps it is because Waylon has proved his loyalty and care for me again and again, while the rest of the world has proven only to be fickle. No matter the reason, however, I cannot pursue him like I do the others. Again, Waylon is different.

Even if my longings for Waylon are stronger, that only means I must suppress them harder. For I am not a kind man, and would never be good for him. Frankly, I don't understand why he even stays as my assistant. Waylon deserves better in life, deserves a better man, or woman as the case may be. For his sake, he should have never taken the job.

That is the only reason I can think of, to regret my choice to hire Waylon Junior. A strong reason, but a reason that weakens in comparison to anything else. Yes, I do believe taking him as my assistant was the best decision I ever made.

[solardistress]

the only flag i need is the bisexual one its where i live

[sabrina-central]

You know what? I like you! *shows you my Sabrina Summer Job AU*

Every summer since she was 10, Sabrina and her dad would spend a lot of time during her vacation watching Nascar together (and other such car racing shows and events, that's just the one I'm familiar with through my American centric lense of pop culture).

Her dad liked the high speed racing, the action and adrenaline of it all, and while she could certainly see the appeal, it never drew her attention nearly as much as the pit crew.

Those six people working together diligently to make sure their racer's car has everything it needs to keep going, have only about 10 seconds to do so!

That's insane! It's impossible!! And damnit, she wants to learn how to do that so goddamn bad it hurts.

She studies everything she can on her own but whenever she hits a roadblock, she asks her dad if he knows the answer. He helps as much as he can but he admits she's already far more advanced in her understanding of it all than he's ever been.

Perhaps it would benefit her to talk to a professional and, with proper supervision and without letting her do anything too dangerous, she might be able to gain further knowledge through personal experience, using what she's learned in theory and applying it in practice.

And with that idea in mind, when she was 12 years old Roger took his daughter with him to his trusted car mechanic of 15 years, one of the best there was. Sure, he wasn't part of any pit crew, but he knew his stuff and like Sabrina he had started fairly young.

The little girl had a million questions to ask him and she did so in rapid fire succession, her words forming so fast he thought for a moment he would no longer be able to perceive them as they would break the speed of sound.

Although overwhelmed, he found her curiosity and enthusiasm endearing and decided to take her energy as a challenge and do his best to match it.

The trips to the mechanic became a monthly thing. Everytime he'd answer the five to ten questions he didn't get to last time she'd have about 20 more, just ready and waiting to be asked, and thus the cycle continued.

He never got tired or bored of answering her, clearly this was as much her lifeblood as it was his.

Which is why it was no surprise that when that summer rolled around, he had an offer to make Sabrina, making sure to run it by Roger first, of course.

"A summer job? She's barely 13!"

"Don't think of it as a summer job, Rog, it's not like I'll be having her fix up the cars or even talking to the clients! It'll mostly be more of what she's been doing already in between playing 2000 questions where the only topic is cars. It's more of an apprenticeship. If and when she's old enough to decide she wants to start working here, than we can discuss that."

"Still, I don't know. The only reason I was ok with doing this was because I was able to be here for it. If she's here all summer... what if something happens and I'm not here to protect her?"

"Roger, you know I would never let anything hurt her. I know she's not my kid but she's my student, and I consider myself responsible for her. She's very important to me, nothing bad will happen to her on my watch. You have my word."

"It's not you I don't trust, Hector." He answers, so much pain and fear unspoken. He doesn't need to say it, Hector's always known the things that weigh heavy on Roger's mind.

"You won't lose her. Not to this. If anything, I think having this in her life will only do her good, it can help her." Hector reassures him.

Roger knows he isn't saying this just to get an affirmative. Hector is many thing, but a liar isn't one of them. That man had never said something he didn't belive in, and he was often proven right. Not always, but enough for Roger to trust his judgment.

He takes a deep breath. "You do realize I'll be swinging by here every chance I get, right?"

"Oh no, I have to see more of you? What a nightmare!" He jokes with a dramatic hand over his forehead, pretending to faint before chuckling. "Come on, Rog, you know you're always welcome at my shop!" He says with a wink.

Roger smiles. He can trust Hector, and his daughter is stronger than his anxiety gave her credit for. It might not be a bumpless road, but those don't make for a very entertaining race anyhow. The important thing is she'll end up in one piece.

So, with the arrangement settled between the two, they both break the news to Sabrina, of course making it clear that if it's not something she wants she's not at all required to do it or anyth-

"ARE YOU KIDDING?! YES YES YES, A HUNDRED THOUSAND TIMES YES! WHEN DO WE START CAN WE START NOW PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE?!"

Hector and Roger both laugh fondly at Sabrina, running and jumping around the shop like she's on a sugar high after a finishing her entire Halloween haul.

"Actually, I've seen that happen and I think this is somehow worse." Roger says with biggest smile on his face.

"She's a good kid, and a real natural at this too. It's always a thrill to find out the thing you want to do is the thing you were meant to do." Hector replies, a matching grin as they watch her look around the room and take it all in, realizing that she'll get to spend her summer vacations here, learning to do what she's always dreamed of!

By the time shes 14, she starts actively helping out at the shop. She still doesn't talk to clients or fix cars, as per the agreement, but she helps take inventory, lets Hector know what tools need fixing and she even troubleshoots particularly difficult issues his clients have with him and helps him do his job without having to break said agreement.

Thank you, technicality!

And so, the summer before going back to school, she asks to be allowed to work on the cars.

"I'll start with one car a month. You can even give me one of the old cars that you got from the junkyard. that way you don't have to worry about me dealing with an angry customer after I messed up his car!"

"Yes, but I'd still be breaking the promise I made your dad - "

"You promised to keep me safe, right?"

"How do you know that part?"

"I know my dad, he's always worried about me. And though it's sweet, it seems a bit more excessive the older I get. Look, you can renegotiate the agreement, I can help if that's what it takes, but... I'm past the point where disassembling and assembling an engine is sufficient enough training for me. I wanna get a head start and gain some real experience! Especially since Im only here two months a year, anway. And since dad and I agree I shouldn't skip high school to go to a trade school and pursue a mechanic career at 16 - "

"And what's wrong with that?" Hector asks, jokingly defensive.

"Oh nothing, whatever works for every individual but, it's just not for me I'm afraid. Anyways, don't change the subject!" Sabrina replied, barely even getting distracted by the turn in the conversation before steering it right back on track.

"Well, can't blame a guy for trying to save himself from the wrath of his favorite person."

"My dad's your favorite person? Hmm, idk if I should be jealous or intrigued..."

"Suddenly the conversation about you wanting to repair cars is a lot more appealing, lets go back to that please!"

"Hmmm... okay fine. But this isn't over."

"Oh boy."

"Anyway, I can talk to my dad, give him the ol' puppy eyes, tear down his anxiety walls with some sound logic. Should take me a few days, maybe a week if he's feeling particularly stubbron, but just. Promise me you'll think about it? Please?"

"I..." He has about a million protests he can think of off the top of his head.

They all die in his throat at the sight of her dreaded puppy eyes.

"I swear, you Raincomprixes are gonna be the death of me one of these days." He mutters before letting out a deep exasperated sigh.

"Alright, I'll see what cars are safest for you to work on and I will consider allowing you to maybe repair one of them."

She squeals and jumps him, giving him the biggest hug. For a girl so petite, she gave surprisingly crushing hugs.

"Thank you thank you thank you! You're the best mentor ever! This is gonna be the best summer ever!"

Well, Hector didn't know about that, but one thing's for sure.

This summer was definitely gonna be an interesting one.

[lunawlw]

my brain once again…oc time

[azucarera-art]

Thinking about an Encanto & The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels crossover where Casita flies around Colombia wreaking havoc while Abuela teaches Mirabel how to pilot her.

A dashing rogue for a love interest for Mirabel or Isabela or Luisa would be more than welcome too 👀

[theamazingannie]

Me, buying everything I own in a blue purple pink gradient: I just think the colors are pretty no other reason🥰

[soulaires]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 7 Evil Exes ™️ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

main pairing: Aaron Warner x f!reader

synopsis: Aaron Warner is not sure about many things, but he is sure as hell that he can be a better boyfriend than your exes.

content warnings: modern au, jealous Aaron Warner, bisexual reader, hinted one-sided rivalry (if u squint enough), use of y/n, profanities, making out, kissing, playgirl!reader, swear words, pining, slow burn..

« words: 17,899 (I know. I KNOW.) ┇ao3┇wattpad┇ reblogs appreciated! »

🪩:: voicemail; read my other aaron warner fics here.

authors note: It’s finally here!!! Please let me know your opinion or what you think about this!! Love you alll 🫶 I suggest reading it in ao3 btw, it’s much more easier imo andd not beta read sorry.

PRESENT. (2040)

Aaron Warner Doesn’t Get Jealous. (Or that’s the lie he keep telling at himself for the past few years)

He’s not really someone who got jealous, I mean, what would a man like him be jealous of?

Jealousy, in Warner’s meticulous worldview, was an emotion akin to unruly chaos. It required an admission of vulnerability, an acknowledgment that something, or in this case, someone, held the power to disrupt the carefully constructed equilibrium of his life. It was a sentiment he considered beneath him, beneath the carefully honed image of composure he projected to the world.

He was Aaron Warner, unflinching and composed. Jealousy required acknowledging vulnerabilities that he refused to expose. He has always prided himself on his unyielding control, the ironclad grip he maintained on every aspect of his life.

Yet, there were moments, like the one he was currently experiencing, that threatened his carefully constructed facade.

The party was in full swing, the atmosphere vibrant and charged. Laughter and music filled the air, and Warner stood amidst the throng of people, a glass of whiskey in hand. As he stood in the corner of the room, glaring daggers at the scene of you and kenji dancing in the middle of the dance floor, Warner could not deny the storm of emotions brewing within him.

He took a sip of his whiskey, his refined taste for the finer things momentarily overshadowed by the fire igniting in his chest. He had been observing the situation with detachment, or so he had tried to convince himself.

Yet, each chuckle that escaped your lips, every shy smile directed at that interloper, seemed to slice through his veneer of indifference like a dagger. Warner’s green eyes narrowed as he watched you, dissecting every nuance of the encounter. He saw the way your hair fell just so across your shoulders, the way your eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. And then, there was that touch – innocent, yes, but it still sent tendrils of anger curling around his heart, grip tightening around the glass cup.

“You alright there, Warner?” A voice chimed in, interrupting his train of thoughts. It was Nazeera, her observant eyes noticing the situation.

“Perfectly,” he replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you.

Nazeera followed his line of sight and smirked. “Ah, I see. Jealousy does not suit you, Warner.”

Warner’s jaw clenched. “I am not jealous.”

Nazeera raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Jealousy requires emotions, which you find terribly unrefined. But as you stand here, glaring at the sight of poor y/n and kenji who’s unwittingly— or should I say unwillingly caught your ire, I’d say you are feeling downright murderous.”

Warner’s irritation flared. “I assure you, I’m simply observing. Run along.”

Nazeera chuckled knowingly. “Right, observing with the intensity of a hawk about to swoop down on its prey.”

Warner’s eyes flickered to her, irritation now can be seen at his face “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Immensely” she replied, her grin widening. “But don’t fret, Warner. Jealousy happens to the best of us, even those who pride themselves on being unemotional”

Aaron only huffs in response. He took another sip of his whiskey, his gaze drifting back to you. Nazeera only watches him with amusement.

“They were supposed to be broken up,” he said, breaking the silence and now looki— no, glaring fire and daggers at Kenji.

“And why do you care?” Juliette Ferrars appeared, arms linked in with none other than Adam Kent who is smirking, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding in his eyes.

Nazeera smiled mischievously. “Yes, Warner, why do you care?” Aaron rolled his eyes taking a long gulp of his whiskey.

Why did he care?

Aaron Warner really had nothing against your past lovers—He simply believed that they all don’t deserve you and that he thought that he would fit in so much better in their place.

He could be a better boyfriend than all of them.

You see, You had what Aaron Warner liked to call 7 Evil Exes, except some of them were not really evil and some of them were not really exes. but that is what he likes to call them and a secret he clung to in the privacy of his mind.

Nazeera Ibrahim.

New Years Day Party, Circa 2035.

It was New Year’s Day, Aaron’s father had forced him again to come to a party with his business partners to celebrate.

As he entered the ballroom where the teenagers who were also dragged along by their parents were hanging out, Warner heard you and nazeera's loud, booming, and obnoxious laugh.

Recently, there hadn’t been a time when Aaron was with Nazeera that you weren’t accompanying them. And perhaps, if Aaron did not have such a terrible time making friends, he might not have ended up spending as much time hanging along with Nazeera Ibrahim.

The opulent ballroom was ablaze with twinkling chandeliers and a sea of elegantly dressed individuals. It was the kind of event that drew the city’s elite, where the power plays of the wealthy and influential were disguised behind smiles and clinking glasses.

Aaron Warner, however, had always found such gatherings a tiresome spectacle. Tonight was no different.

“Double A,” a voice chimed in, it was none other than Kenji Kishimoto. Warner hated that nickname and most especially kishimoto. “Upset that your rival is not giving you any attention?” He teased. “Go away.” Warner replied as he took a drink to his wine.

“In case you haven't noticed, this is a party – a gathering designed for enjoyment, y’know.” Warner only rolled his eyes in response , “I’m aware. Get out.”

“What’s with the face, sour patch? It’s New Year’s Eve, are you really starting your year with a brooding face? How boring”

“Go. Away.” He warned. Kenji only huffs in response as he leaves.

“Oh look who we have here,” you suddenly said behind Warner. “What are you doing here at the corner?” You stated. “None of your business.” He replied, bored.

“You are no fun, Aaron.” Oh God. “Fun might not be my forte then.” Warner said, sarcasm visible to his voice.

“You chat like a full-on adult – did you clock that?” You mumbled. Clearly not sober, you speaking to him and being ‘nice’ kinda give it away.

“Why aren’t you out there having a blast with us?” you prodded Warner’s arm. ”Why? You all seem to be enjoying yourselves just fine. Nazeera is,” Aaron murmured to himself.

“You do realize that we consider you a friend too, right? It is not just Nazeera.”

“When was the last time I spent time with you without Nazeera around?” Warner said, harshly. “I am not your friend, l/n.” He continued. “Oh, definitely not. But you are the biggest asshole I know.” You said teasingly as you laughed.

God. He kinda hates you.

“Oh, why thank you” Warner replied as he gave you a mocking smile. You only roll your eyes in response and leave, which is a dismay to Aaron.

__

He had been content in his corner, a place where he could observe without being observed, where he could distance himself from the shallow conversations and frivolous indulgence.

But his decision to leave his little corner had now made him an unwilling witness to a scene that mirrored a teenage sleepover rather than a high-society event, now he was an unwilling witness to the spectacle unfolding, a circle of friends, a bottle spinning, and raucous laughter as it determined the next victim.

It was all so juvenile, so beneath him. He didn’t care. No, he really did not. He exhaled a silent sigh, his eyes scanning the crowd. That’s when he saw you – a flash of mischief in your eyes as you joined the circle.

A mix of anticipation and amusement danced across your features, and for a moment, Aaron found his gaze inexplicably drawn to you.

The bottle pointed at you, and you met his gaze with a mix of anticipation and mischief. He couldn’t help but notice how your smile was brighter tonight, your eyes alight with the shared secrets of the game.

The bottle spun, slowly losing momentum before finally settling.

Nazeera.

The bottle had chosen Nazeera Ibrahim, and Aaron could not help but feel his gut tighten. Nazeera, with her quick wit and unapologetic charm, leaned in and brushed her lips against yours. The room erupted into cheers, the celebration of a simple, harmless act. Aaron downed the rest of his whiskey, his facade barely holding as he looked away.

He did not care. No, he really didn’t. It was a game, a meaningless gesture, and his rational mind understood that. But as he watched you and Nazeera exchange a knowing smile, a spark of anger flared within him, and he was left grappling with an unsettling truth he refused to acknowledge.

The room's energy was infectious, intoxicating, and it stirred something within him he had long suppressed. He downed the rest of his whiskey, its warmth barely soothing the tension in his chest.

___

The party continued, the spectacle of the game morphing into a dance of bodies and laughter. Aaron moved through the crowd with his usual grace, exchanging pleasantries and polite smiles. As the night waned, the festivities evolved into a more intimate gathering. Aaron found himself once again near the circle, his eyes discreetly observing.

His attention was drawn back to you – your laughter, your smile, the easy camaraderie you shared with those around you. And that spark of anger, the one he had tried to suppress, grew stronger.

The noise seemed to fade around him as he stood there, his thoughts a tempest of confusion and contradiction. He had been adamant that he did not care, that he was above the trivialities of the game. Yet, as he looked at you, a realization began to crystallize.

It was not about the kiss.

His internal debate was disrupted when Nazeera approached him, her gaze sharp and perceptive. ”What's eating at you, Warner?”

He gave her a sidelong glance, his features carefully composed. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

She chuckled, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when something’s bothering you.”

He met her gaze, his voice firm. “It’s none of your concern, Ibrahim.”

She leaned in, her voice a whisper that held a hint of teasing. “You know, it’s okay to be bothered by something, even if you pretend otherwise. You don’t fool me, Aaron Warner.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Aaron to wrestle with the turmoil within him. He moved to a quieter corner of the room, his thoughts a tumultuous storm.

He didn't care. He couldn’t care.

That was the narrative he had woven for himself. But as he stood there, surrounded by the fading echoes of laughter and celebration, the truth began to claw at him.

The anger he felt wasn’t directed at the kiss itself, but at the fact that he had been forced to witness it.

Yeah, he definitely does hate you.

__

PRESENT.

Warner would not lie; there was a point when he disliked his friend.

It irked him how she was always stuck by your side, hated her for being your first kiss, hated her for the fact that she kissed you, hated her.

And he also hated you for being all nice and friendly, making him feel like he belonged like he’s included, but then turning around and acting like he did not exist. It made him think you chose Nazeera over him in some weird way.

The memory of it was a bitter pill to swallow. Now, he’s watching as Nazeera wrapped her arms around your waist, your laughter intermingling with the music, kishimoto no longer in sight.

Aaron’s jaw clenched as Nazeera’s touch lingered, her fingers grazing your skin.

Then you turned around, your arms snaking around Nazeera’s neck, hugging her from behind. The sight of your intimate embrace, the way your top lifted to reveal a hint of skin, stirred something in him that he could not quite name. He looked away, his irritation magnified by the laughter of Juliette and Adam, who were thoroughly entertained by his discomfort.

“Hey, Warner, you’re missing quite the show,” Juliette teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He forced a half-hearted smile, his gaze avoiding the dance floor. “I’ve seen better.”

Adam chuckled, clapping a hand on Warner’s shoulder. “Come on, man, don’t be such a killjoy. Live a little.” Warner only shoved his hand from his shoulder making Adam and Juliette laugh.

Their voices fell deaf on his ears as his attention was drawn back to you and Nazeera. The two of you seemed lost in your own world.

Warner pressed his lips together, his gaze fixed ahead with an air of annoyance. Even though Nazeera was this kind of ex-but-not-really, he still saw her as one of them. It was not jealousy, not exactly, but Nazeera’s striking resemblance to you made things pretty complicated. You and Nazeera seemed like two sides of the same coin on occasions.

Warner could not help but entertain the thoughts that he might have been a better choice for a first kiss – not that he was particularly yearning for that, though. Kissing you? no way, that would be way too crazy. It was completely out of the question. That was just a wild and outlandish notion, but…

Aaron Warner sure would have been a better first kiss.

But that’s only his own personal opinion. He genuinely has no real interest in it, none whatsoever.

He didn’t really care about you anyway.

Zayden Knox.

Is meeting someone just once and deciding that you already and absolutely loathe them too early? Because Warner was and had already decided he hated Zayden Knox. And if he had to endure another moment in his company, he was fairly certain he might spontaneously combust.

Zayden Knox. Your first Boyfriend. Tall, platinum blond, rich, narcissistic, undoubtedly entitled, and worse, he was dating you. Warner was going to vomit.

Warner could not fathom what you saw in him, what qualities Knox possessed that could warrant your affection? You guys had completed a month of dating – a month that felt like an eternity for Warner.

Aaron scowled as he recalled the incident when Zayden had deliberately taken the seat next to Warner, claiming he wanted to meet your 'cousin'. Cousin.

Warner had left the scene without exchanging a single word.

That was the moment he had decided to loathe Zayden Knox with a burning passion.

The infuriating part was that Zayden had nothing to do with Warner’s feelings for you. It wasn’t a matter of jealousy, or wanting to be in Knox’s place. It was the simple fact that Zayden grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

If Nazeera was a mirror image of you in some respects, Zayden was the polar opposite. He didn’t share your interests, your values, or seemingly any of your virtues.

Warner had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes whenever Zayden spoke, which was far too often. Zayden's conversations were self-centered topics that Warner found utterly infuriating.

Worse yet, he had heard Zayden mock the very things you enjoyed with an air of superiority that made Warner’s blood boil.

He literally did not care about what you liked and even trash-talked the stuff you enjoyed. Knox was shallow and annoying, he seemed like the last person you’d click with. So, the big question was, why did you pick Zayden Knox? Warner could not wrap his head around it.

What the hell had led you to choose someone like Zayden Knox as your first boyfriend?

That was the question Warner couldn’t answer, the puzzle he couldn’t solve. He had witnessed you laugh, engage in meaningful discussions, and show kindness to those around you. Zayden, on the other hand, seemed to be the embodiment of insincerity.

He can be a much better choice.

He can be your first boyfriend yet you have chosen someone who can’t even listen to you talking about the things you adored. Maybe that’s why every time he saw You and Knox in the hallways you guys were kissing and not talking.

___

Halloween Party, Circa 2037.

The Halloween party was in full swing, the mansion adorned with eerie decorations and the air thick with laughter and music. Aaron Warner, His costume was a nod to his own enigmatic aura – dressed in a dark, impeccably tailored suit, reminiscent of the dark, powerful figures from classic films.

It was as if he had embraced the idea of embodying his own enigma, using it to further distance himself from the joviality around him. He stood near the grand staircase, observing the masquerade of guests with his signature air of detached amusement.

He had begrudgingly agreed to attend this event, knowing that it was an opportunity for him to judge rich people’s choice of clothes. His attention, however, kept gravitating towards the entrance, his gaze settling on the crowd as the guests flowed in.

And then he saw you, (with Zayden Knox beside you, which Warner has completely ignored.) a vision of mischief and charm, you entered like a phantom, a vision of allure and danger wrapped in an enigma.

The black dress clung to your curves, the fabric flowing like liquid silk with each step she took. The dress itself was simple in design, yet its effect was anything but a slit up at your thigh, a dagger can be seen that it’s attached to your thighs, a fake gun was holstered at your side, a prop that lent authenticity to your costume of an assassin. Your hair cascaded down your shoulders in loose waves.

The corner of his lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk – he had to admit that you had a talent for making an impression.

As the night wore on, he found himself content with his role as an observer. People mingled, danced, and indulged, all while he remained the enigmatic figure lurking in the shadows. He could feel their gazes on him, curious and speculative, their conversations likely rife with speculation about his motives and intentions.

The clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of chatter formed a backdrop to his thoughts, and he did not notice when you approached. It wasn’t until your voice cut through the noise that he turned his attention to you, his expression a mix of mild irritation and genuine intrigue.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the formidable Aaron Warner,” you purred, your tone laced with both taunting and undeniable magnetism.

He arched an eyebrow, a rare hint of amusement ghosting his features. ”And here I thought Halloween was a time for costumes, not insults.”

You chuckled, your laughter infectious even in the midst of the lingering tension. “Oh, but Aaron, don’t you know? Insults are my specialty, no matter the occasion.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn into the banter, “and here I was, hoping for a break from the usual.” He shot back.

“Well, I couldn’t help it. Are you trying to blend into the darkness tonight?” you quipped, your tone laced with a playful challenge.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze meeting yours, “you could say I’m embracing the ambiance.”

“Well, you’re certainly nailing the brooding loner aesthetic.”

Warner resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his lips quirking into a half-smile. ”I’m touched by your assessment,” you only smirk in response. “Why don’t you go run along now.” He continued, more of a statement than a question.

You gasped dramatically, a hand pressed to your heart in feigned hurt. “Wow, eager to get rid of me, Warner? I’m hurt. I thought we had something special!”

Your sarcasm was like a well-practiced melody, each word dripping with playful mockery. You even went so far as to dramatically wipe away non-existent tears from your eyes, the theatricality of the action earning a faint smile from him.

“Never, love.” his tone laced with a mock seriousness that matched your theatrics. You chuckled in response, pink blush coloring your cheeks. Huh. Cute.

“I’ll stay here for awhile, it’s suffocating out there.” you said.

Warner’s eyebrow arched slightly, “Won’t your date miss you?” there’s something in his tone that you couldn’t quite understand.

You met his gaze, ”If I cared about that, I would not be here.”

What? Warner raised an eyebrow, curiosity now visible to his face, “Touché.”

There was a charged silence between you, the tension hovering in the air. The air was heavy with an unspoken tension, a weight that seemed to settle between you as if begging to be addressed. The world around you continued to swirl, the party continued with fancy extravagance that sharply stands out from the complicated feelings brewing underneath.

Finally, Warner turned to you, putting an end to the silence. He blurted out, “Why are you dating Knox?” The question escaped him without restraint.

“What? Why?” Your response seemed defensive.

“He is… just nothing like you,” Warner shrugged dismissively as if he didn’t care. And he didn’t, at least that’s what he believed.

You looked at the landscape beyond the open window, nibbling on your lip. “You know, my friends have been saying the same thing,” you admitted cautiously. Then you turned back to him, looking deeply into his green eyes. Oh God.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

“I don't like Zayden, not at all,” you finally said, your voice a blend of confidence and vulnerability. There was a quiet honesty in your words, a confession that seemed to hang in the air like a delicate secret.

Warner's brow furrowed, his gaze fixed on you as he processed your words. ”Like you said, he‘s not really my type.”

The uttered and unspoken meanings of the words hovered between you. Warner’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he’d been trying to solve.

“oh.” he managed, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and realization. “Then why are you dating him?”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, he saw something in your gaze – a flicker of hesitation, a glint of regret. “Everyone around me is dating, and it makes me feel like I’m falling behind, and Zayden was right there and... I don’t like him at all.”

You didn’t like him. You didn’t like Zayden Knox. Well, now it all made a lot more sense.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his usually sharp mind suddenly feeling a bit scattered. The revelation hit him with an unexpected force, stirring up emotions he hadn’t anticipated. It was strange how he felt relieved.

“You're dating him because you felt pressured,” Warner summarized, his voice quieter than usual, laced with an understanding that bordered on empathy.

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. “Mhm. It sounds silly when I say it out loud, but it's true. I thought if I had a boyfriend, it would make me feel like I'm on the same page as everyone else.”

Warner studied your profile, the soft curve of your features illuminated by the gentle moonlight. “I understand that feeling,” he admitted, his tone almost hesitant. “The pressure to conform, to fit in. It’s a powerful force.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “You do?”

He offered a small smile. “Perhaps more than you think. People always assume certain things about me, and sometimes it’s easier to just play along.” There was a shared understanding between you now, a connection that went beyond the surface.

Warner took a deep breath and spoke with a sincerity that surprised even himself.

“Y/N, you are not falling behind,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “You’re not defined by whether or not you are dating someone. You are young, you’ve got time with you. Besides, love is not just romantical, you can find love in everyday things. It's okay to want and crave it but just because you don’t have it right now doesn’t mean there is something wrong with you.”

Your gaze held his, a mixture of gratitude and contemplation shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Aaron.” He only offered a small smile in return.

“You should get back.” he pointed back to the ballroom.

“Right, they must be finding me right now.” you replied.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t.” You smiled at him and winked. You winked at him. You winked. Good god.

__

Not a week after that, you broke up with your first boyfriend.

Zayden Knox was the ex that Warner forgot about the most, to be honest. It was not that he didn't notice the end of your relationship; it was just that Zayden seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by other exes that have captured Warner's wrath far more significantly.

Really, anyone would make a better first partner, maybe even him. Warner believes he’d be a way better choice for your first boyfriend, honestly.

The first ones aren’t always all that great, but they have the potential to be, if Aaron Warner was your first.

Astrid Rhodes.

Valentine’s Day, Circa 2038.

Valentine's Day had dawned, and a sense of whimsical romance filled the air. In the heart of someone's abnormally giant garden, a mini tea party event had been set up. The lush greenery and delicate blooms formed the perfect backdrop for the occasion. As the sun's warm embrace bathed the garden, laughter and chatter floated on the breeze.

Among the attendees was Aaron Warner, a figure that commanded attention without seeking it. He entered the garden with a nonchalant stride, his sharp gaze sweeping across the scene. The air was filled with the delicate clinking of teacups and the gentle hum of conversations. But amid the crowd, what managed to escape Warner's notice initially was you.

There you were, sitting on a blanket spread out on the grass, amidst the vivid colors of nature. Your lips were locked in a kiss with a raven-haired girl. The sight hit Warner with an unexpected intensity, igniting a sensation he was quick to suppress.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” a voice spoke behind him, Juliette ferrars. Warner turned to find Ferrars at his side. Her knowing gaze bore into him. Warner stayed silent, a deliberate choice to avoid admitting that there might be a connection between him and you. He grasped the reality that acknowledging it would trap him in that emotion, and he was determined to avoid that outcome. So, denial it was.

“Is that what you two always tell yourself?” Another voice joined in, it was Nazeera. Of course it had to be her. The question took Warner and Juliette completely by surprise.

Warner and Juliette exchanged a glance, bewildered by Nazeera's statement. They turned to follow her gaze, only to realize that she was now looking at you and the raven-haired girl.

“Her name is Astrid Rhodes,” Nazeera informed them, her tone matter-of-fact. “They’ve been seeing each other for about a week now, but trust me, it doesn't carry any weight.”

“I didn’t ask.” Warner's retort was sharp, laced with a hint of sass. Ferrars only scoffed. what?

Nazeera, however, remained unperturbed by their reactions, her gaze still fixed on you. “Y/N is simply exploring something with Rhodes, an experiment of sorts. Nothing serious.” she said as she ignored Warner completely.

Juliette sighed in defeat.

Oh. oh. Jesus Christ.

“You like her?” Warner shot Juliette a look that ferrars can’t comprehend as he questioned her.

“And what about it?” Ferrars replied, as she raised her eyebrows, taunting warner.

“Oh, come now, Ferrars. Don’t pretend you don’t understand the significance of such a question.” Warner responded.

“Significance? Please enlighten me, Warner. I'm all ears.” Juliette said, looking rather annoyed. Warner only ignored her, leaving the scene as he sat on a chair in the less crowded space. Unfortunately for him, Ibrahim and Ferrars have followed him, taking seats beside him. So, God help me.

“I only like her. It’s different from being in love with her, nazeera.” Ferrars stated as she sat in front of him, nazeera scoffed, “sure, j” Ibrahim remarked, clearly not believing ferrars. “I’m being serious! I don’t love her, I can’t.” Ferrars defended herself, stupidly.

“Are you saying you've never felt anything remotely close to affection, Ferrars?” Warner retorted, “Oh, please. Don’t make this about me, Warner. We’re gonna discuss your sudden fascination.” Ferrars declared.

“Fascination, you say? I think you’re giving yourself too much credit. It's called observation.” Warner uttered coldly.

Juliette snorted, “Of course, because watching someone with such intensity is purely an observational exercise.”

"Exactly. Just like observing a laboratory experiment," Warner countered, “You know, with variables, hypotheses, and unexpected outcomes.”

“Ah, so y/n is an experiment now? What’s next? Are you going to write a research paper on her tendencies?” Juliette retorted quickly.

Warner chuckled, “Perhaps a series of articles, titled ‘The Curious Case of Y/N L/N’”

Before their jabs could continue, Nazeera intervened, her presence a stark interruption to their exchange.

“Could you two save the investigative journalism for later?” Nazeera quipped, a knowing smile curving her lips.

Warner and Juliette scowelled, both momentarily taken aback by Nazeera’s interruption. It was as if she could sense the undercurrents of their conversation.

“Something tells me you have more interesting things to discuss,” Nazeera continued, her gaze flickering toward you and Astrid Rhodes, who were still engrossed in their own world.

Warner’s jaw tightened slightly, his thoughts a tangled mess. Nazeera had a way of cutting through pretenses, of bringing the truth to light in a way that was both disconcerting and strangely refreshing. Juliette sighed, her defiance momentarily giving way to resignation.

“Why Don’t you tell me something about Rhodes so that I can properly despise her.” Juliette’s voice cut through, laced with a mix of bitterness and curiosity. Her words hung in the air like a challenge, Nazeera’s lips twitched, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. With a nod, she leaned back, ready to unravel the tapestry of Astrid Rhodes’ reputation.

“Ah, Astrid Rhodes,” Nazeera began, her tone carrying a mix of amusement and exasperation. “A name that triggers a range of emotions in anyone who’s had the displeasure of crossing paths with her.”

Juliette’s eyes bore into Nazeera, the desire for information evident in her gaze. Warner’s interest was piqued as well. Ibrahim keeps talking about Rhodes for the past few minutes.

Apparently, Astrid Rhodes is an absolute nightmare.

After Warner survived Zayden Knox’s awful personality and relationship with you, you started dating someone who’s a hundred times more annoying.

Astrid Rhodes. Hell, you never learn do you? It’s clear that Rhodes is not really a good choice to have someone as significant other. She was Toxic, Manipulative, gold digger, and most importantly a cheater. She has multiple allegations of cheating on her past lovers, which she constantly denies. Jesus Christ.

__

Warner entered a vacant room to get away from everyone for a moment, he was overwhelmed with everything. He saw the door swung open, finding you entering the very same room, you locked eyes with him, shocked.

“Hey, Aaron.” You greeted, taking a step in front of him.

“Hey yourself.” he replied, a smirk tugging his lips.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, while inspecting the room.

“To avoid everyone talking to me, they keep hovering over me. What about you?” Warner asked back, looking around the room.

“Taking a breather. Everyones being a bitch.” you replied, smirking down at warner.

“You know, You’re not as invincible as you think, Warner. One day, you’ll be knocked off your pedestal.” you added as you watched him stepping closer to you, the proximity between you both electric.

“And you think you're the one to do it?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the challenge in his eyes a dare you could not resist. “Watch me.”

His lips curved into a wicked smile, a glint of something more in his gaze. “Perhaps I will.”

“You know everyone keeps comparing me to you, it’s getting annoying, really” you suddenly said, starting a conversation so it won’t be awkward.

“Oh yeah?” Warner said, smirking. His eyes on you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

“Yeah—God, I hate you.” you muttered

“Say it again.” he countered and you feel like you are going insane. Oh My god.

“Would you love me to whisper it in your ears?” You teased back.

Warner was speechless. Aaron warner doesn’t get speechless—yet here he is. A comfortable silence settles between you two, The tension between you two crackled like electricity. As your teasing reached its crescendo, a moment of silence suddenly settled over you guys. The heated exchange had given way to an unexpected pause, and your eyes met his. In that unguarded second, the tension shifted from amusement to something else entirely.

“Aaron?” you questioned, noticing his silence.

“You gotta stop doing that.” he mumbled.

“doing what?”

Saying things that makes me want to kiss you.

Silence.

Warner found himself drawn closer to you, a gravitational force he couldn’t resist. The background noise faded into a distant hum as he closed the physical gap between you and him, only a meter away. The playful glint in his eyes had transformed into something more primal, more intimate. He’s now looking at your eyes then to your lips.

God, He wanted to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you over and over again. Hell, he was going insane. Do people normally lose their mind like this?

He couldn’t fight again. He couldn’t. If you kissed him right then and there he wouldn’t be able to do anything but kiss you back. And he’s afraid that he won’t be able to stop.

So Warner did the imaginable. He cupped the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. With that, he cupped your cheeks, green eyes drawing to yours, he shooed some hair strands from your face.

Aaron can’t breathe. It’s like you have stolen every oxygen he has.

You put your hands to his waist, and it was over.

So, he kissed you. He kissed you. Without warning, without permission, without thinking. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else. He had to grab back the breath you were holding. It belonged to him, and he wanted it back.

The kiss began to get more heated as he grabbed your waist and pulled you in close. Your hands wandered his back as he grasped at you. He kissed you and you kept kissing him back. Before giving you a calm kiss on the neck, Warner’s mouth lingered over your skin. He might even taste your skin. In his case, it was needed.

He needed to do it, and he was not going to leave the room until he had. He deepened his kiss by wetting your flesh. With the knowledge that it would leave a mark, he sucked and held it between his teeth.

It was also what he longed for since it was his only opportunity to be with you. With every whisper and every plea that you made for him, he felt the skin of your throat vibrate.

After a while, you guys pulled apart, stunned looks visible to each other. He saw the mark on your neck and he couldn’t help but feel proud about it. A hickey on your neck. And it was him. Aaron Warner who had done it.

He had tasted your skin.

Warner opened his mouth to speak but he quickly closed it, unable to form some words to his mouth.

“Aaron-” You started but Warner was quick to shut you up by raising his index finger.

“Don’t say anything.” he told you with a sorry eyes and he left.

He fucking left.

___

Never before have you experienced being so entirely consumed by a kiss. Suddenly, the void that existed between the two of you ruptures into a whirlwind of sensations. Warner’s heart skips its rhythmic beats; his hands desperately pull you closer, attempting to erase any remaining distance.

The taste of you on his lips is a revelation, making him aware of a profound hunger that had been gnawing at him. Though there have been previous kisses, none have ignited him with such an all-encompassing fire. The passage of time becomes a blurred concept—perhaps it’s a fleeting minute, or it could be an endless hour.

The only certainty is the memory of that kiss, the gentle caress of your skin against his, and the realization that, even without prior knowledge, he has been longing for this very moment throughout eternity.

Kissing You is like getting struck a million times by lightning. The way our lips initially brush before melting together has a thrilling intensity. His ears are able to hear the beat of your heart.

His stomach’s begging fire keeps burning hot and boldly, seeping through layers of muscle radiating heat off his skin. It burns inside him like a forest fire and radiates the aroma of sin and the sanctuary.

In contrast, every breath taken by you; the person whose lips taste like sea salt and fresh snow causes his lungs to fill with water, causing him to be drowned helplessly.

As consuming as it is, Aaron Warner’s primal desires carve a divide between you and harsher traits. He becomes a pristine canvas under your touch, molded by your influence, and he has never been this close to God before.

He knows a religion and God has no use to people like him, but God, you are a temple and He is a sinner in need somewhere to worship.

He feels your soul entangle and untangle an endless cataclysmic cycle as both of your tongues engage in a wedding dance, sending him to the highest of highs and sending him drifting

down,

down,

down.

Down into a glorious drop.

He is sent into a stupor by your hands because they are destitute and devouring. His desires, deceitfully sweet, stain his clothing with sin and sweetness Warner welcomes the waves with all the lightning, fire, drowning, and heaven-and-hell he can muster despite the waves getting rougher and calmer with each passing minute.

Aaron Warner is at your mercy.

___

Weeks goes by since the kiss happened on Valentines day, warner has found himself thinking about you than a normal person would be. Now, he’s strutting down the hallways of the school and then, he sees You and Astrid Rhodes. She was sucking at your neck. He tightened his lips and left the scene quickly.

However, he couldn’t help but believe Astrid Rhodes wasn’t worthy of tasting your skin.

No, not at all.

___

Warner have decided to hate Astrid Rhodes with burning passion. The way she always flirt with other people despite having a situation-ship with you, the way she have always used your name in her needs, the way she asked for your money, the way she manipulates you, the way she mock you behind your back and the way that she always swear in every word she ever uttered. It’s like she’s a kid who learned a new word that she keeps using.

Praying for Astrid Rhodes’ downfall is not enough, he needed to participate in it.

So, Warner took things into his hands.

As Astrid’s accusatory words sliced through the charged atmosphere, Warner’s gaze remained unyielding, a calm facade masking the tumultuous storm beneath. Her reaction was expected – after all, he had just confronted her about something he had witnessed, something that had ignited the flames of his determination to expose the truth.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Warner!?” She shouted at him, voice rose with anger. “You are fucking crazy, stop making up things you fucker” Rhodes continued. Warner has caught her making out with someone, and apparently Rhodes did not take it well when he told her that he’s going to tell you of what he saw.

“Does that make you feel better?” Warner said, bored eyes clear on his face.

“Excuse me?” Astrid furrowed her eyebrows.

“Cursing. Is it an essential component you can’t live without? The constant repetition of those crude and vulgar language in every sentence you utter is truly unbearable.” Warner’s voice speaks so confidently as he towers over Rhodes, whose eyes filled with rage.

“You know, Y/N does not like people who swear a lot. I’m sure she will break up with you sooner or later, no doubt.”

The palpable tension in the room hung heavy, almost suffocating, as Aaron Warner faced Astrid Rhodes with an intensity that matched the burning passion he felt within. There was no denying the ire that had taken root in his heart, festering with each of Astrid’s actions that grated on his nerves like sandpaper against his skin.

Astrid’s eyes sparked with a mixture of fury and defiance, her nostrils flaring as her fists clenched at her sides.

“Oh, so you're the judge of what's insufferable now?” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “Is that your new role in this little drama?”

Warner’s expression remained unflinching, his gaze piercing through the chaos of their exchange. “It’s merely an observation,” he replied calmly. "And observations tend to highlight patterns. In your case, it’s the pattern of manipulation, profanity, and disrespect."

Astrid's eyes blazed with a fire that matched her fiery words. “And why the fuck do you care, Warner? It’s not your life, your relationship, your problem. So, fuck off.”

Warner's lips curved into a knowing smile, a spark of challenge in his eyes. “Oh, but that’s where you’re mistaken, Astrid. It has become my problem when it involves someone who’s… family’s close to mine.”

The air between them crackled with tension, his words hanging in the space between them like a charged current. Astrid’s posture wavered for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she straightened herself, her defense mechanisms snapping back into place.

“Y/N doesn't need you fighting her battles, Warner,” Astrid retorted, her tone dripping with disdain. “If she hasn’t noticed your chivalrous efforts by now, maybe it’s time to accept that you're not the hero she’s been waiting for.”

Warner’s gaze remained unwavering, his voice tinged with a mixture of resolve and frustration. “Maybe it’s time for you to understand that genuine care doesn’t require fanfare, Rhodes. And maybe it’s time for you to grasp that the person you're manipulating and using deserves better than this.”

Astrid’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and disbelief, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “You don't know anything about us, Warner.” Warner leaned in slightly, his voice a low, deliberate murmur. “I know enough to see through the facade. I know enough to recognize when someone is taking advantage of someone else’s kindness.”

Astrid's laughter was bitter, a sound that resonated with a hint of desperation. “You’re so damn self-righteous, aren’t you? Acting as if you’re the hero of your own story, here to save the day.”

Warner’s expression was unyielding, his words measured and unwavering. “I’m not here to be a hero, Rhodes. I’m here to ensure that someone isn't being hurt by someone who claims to care about them.”

The silence that followed hung thick in the air, a poignant reminder of the tangled emotions and complex dynamics at play. Warner’s gaze never wavered, his stance unyielding as he awaited Astrid’s response.

Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with a mix of defiance and resignation.

“You’re deluded if you think you can change anything, Warner. Y/N will see through your charade sooner or later.”

Warner’s lips curved into a rueful smile, he laughed incredulously, making Rhodes look stupid. “That’s so much coming from you, hypocrite.”

As his words flew out of his mouth, the room felt heavy with the weight of tension. Astrid Rhodes stormed out after that.

___

A day after that, Warner heard a commotion outside the library, he heard a shout that he knew who the owner was as he had received the same one just yesterday, Astrid Rhodes. As he entered the common room, Warner got greeted by Astrid Rhodes shouting profanities, rude things, and accusing you of cheating on her. Warner couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Rhodes has the nerve and audacity, doesn’t she?

Choosing to remain inconspicuous, Warner settled into a quiet corner where he could observe the unfolding drama without drawing attention to himself. It seemed the entire room was aware that Astrid was weaving a web of lies, yet they were captivated by the scene as it played out. Glancing up at you, he noted your bored and unamused expression, flanked by friends who were shooting daggers at the girl.

“How could you fucking do this to me!? After all we’ve been through! You are so fucking unbelievable!” Rhodes shouted as she sobs at her hands.

Warner heard a few murmurs beside him.

“Damn she’s committed to this act, isn’t she?”

“Best actress goes to Astrid Rhodes!”

“Nah, this is wild. She have the fucking audacity it’s funny.”

“Do she expect everyone to believe her bullshit this time”

“She’s so bad at this shit. I’m out”

“People like her give theater kids a bad name.”

“Kudos to her for having the fucking nerve to pull a stunt like this ‘cause I would never”

“I’m done with you! We’re done, y/n. I’m never seeing you again.” Rhodes added, she has also added a few more insults and vulgar words. She looked at you expecting an answer.

Warner saw you sighed and put both of your hands to your lap as you stood up,

“Are you done with your theatratics now?”

You question with a monotone voice, laughter can be heard from few people.

Astrid only stared at you bewildered and ran outside the room while shut the door harshly. Everyone is now laughing while they gossip about what just happened.

“Alright, Show is over, everyone!” Kishimoto shouted.

Warner comes out of the corner, taking a step to you, “y/n?” He called out. Warner was sent with a curious look from everyone. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “care to join me outside?” You nodded as you followed Aaron Warner outside to go to the field.

“Well, that’s quite a funny show.” He started, you laughed at his statement.

“Yeah, we’ll, I’ve been expecting it, really” you said while laughing.

“Congratulations either way, you’re finally free from that psycho.” He said, green eyes looking at you once again, amused.

“Oh why thank you, dear.” You replied with the same tone he used.

“Honestly, I don’t know how she thought that would work,” you said with an incredulous shake of your head. “It was like watching a bad soap opera.”

Warner chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling. “I must admit, she’s not exactly the most convincing actress.”

“She should probably stick to other pursuits,” you added with a teasing grin.

“I agree. Perhaps she could take up interpretive dance or something equally entertaining,” Warner replied, a playful glint in his gaze.

You both shared a genuine laugh, silence then took over the air as you guys settled in a particular tree, you both took a seat to its shadow.

“Sooo…” you started, awkwardness settling the air.

Warner laughed at this. A smile took over his face and then you stopped laughing, noticing something in his face. Dimples. Aaron Warner has dimples. Oh sweet Jesus.

Warner took notice of this, “what’s wrong?” He asked. You shake your head as you drag your finger to poke at his dimples. Warner froze at this action, you took away your finger from his cheek as you looked away for a moment, feeling embarrassed.

“Sorry. Just noticed your dimples. It’s cute.” You started with rosy cheeks painted on your face.

“Yeah?” He asked smugly. Oh god this egotistical man. You only hummed in response.

Silence took over once again.

“So, are we gonna talk about what happened on Valentine’s Day?” You started once again. Warner however visibly froze at this.

“Listen, y/n, I apologize for my action, really. It was a mist-“ before he could finish his sentence you cut him with a question.

“Do you regret it?” You asked. Warner looked hesitant for a second before he opened his mouth.

“No. I didn’t.” In fact, he would do it over and over again if you would let him.

Warner opened his mouth to apologize again but you once again cut him off but this time, by kissing him.

You have kissed him. You have kissed Aaron Warner. You kissed him. And you keep kissing him.

Everything is now shattered.

Warner was surprised with this but he then went with it.

You then climbed up to his lap as he pulled you closer to him, hands now at your lower back and to your waist.

As your lips journeyed down the curve of his neck, Warner experienced a sensation akin to hot wax trailing over his skin. The heat of your touch left an indelible mark on his senses, searing a path that he longed to be etched into his very being. There was an urgency in his desire, a need for that imprint to be imprinted with a fervency that matched the fire igniting within him.

Every brush of your lips felt like a deliberate touch of molten heat, the intensity of your movements branding him in a way that transcended the physical realm. It was as though your touch held the power to carve a mark into his very soul, to leave an impression that would linger long after the moment had passed.

Warner's thoughts raced, the pounding of his heart matching the rhythm of your explorations. He found himself craving the sensation of your touch, yearning for it to leave a lasting reminder of this shared intimacy. He wanted more than just a fleeting connection – he wanted a testament, a symbol that would endure even when the fervor of the moment subsided.

In that instant, he realized that this was more than just a physical exchange. It was a declaration, a silent plea for permanence, a desire to mark this moment in a way that words could never encapsulate. The sensation of your lips against his skin was both an offering and a promise.

As your lips continued their descent, Warner surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotions surging within him. He allowed himself to be consumed by the heat of the moment, the fervent desire for a mark that would transcend the boundaries of time and space. He craved the sensation of your touch, the imprints of your presence on his skin serving as a tangible reminder of this shared vulnerability.

And as your lips met the juncture where his neck met his collarbone, a surge of longing coursed through him. He wanted this mark to be a testament to more than just physical desire – he wanted it to encapsulate the layers of emotion that had woven themselves into their complex dynamic.

In that moment, as your lips lingered against his skin, Warner felt a mixture of vulnerability and strength. He surrendered to the intensity of his desire, allowing it to consume him in a way he had never thought possible.

You both stayed like that for a while, not until Kishimoto's voice was heard calling your name from a distance. When you both pull away you guys have a red face and we’re breathing heavily.

As you walked away, Warner was left with the lingering heat of your touch, the mark you had left behind serving as a testament to the moment they had shared. And as he traced the invisible imprint with his fingertips. What just happened?

___

Week later, Astrid Rhodes got expelled from the school. The reason? No one knows.

Not long after that incident, Warner heard the most horrid thing ever known to a man the moment he heard that you began your very long and confusing on and off relationship with Kenji Kishimoto.

God damn it.

Juliette Ferrars.

You and Kishimoto broke up once again for the second time this year, a month in from your break up, you have a new girlfriend. The same can also be said from kishimoto.

He remembered very well that it was the day on March 21st when you announced your relationship with Juliette Ferrars. Juliette Bloody Ferrars. Juliette Perfect Ferrars. Your newest girlfriend.

Juliette was really a step up from Rhodes, everybody could agree on that.

Ferrars was gorgeous, ambitious, confident.

And she was extremely smart, Juliette Ferrars was the dream of any parents for their children. You even had taken her to meet your parents.

____

Juliette Ferrars Birthday Party,

May of 8th, Circa 2038.

The night was alive with the promise of celebration as he made his way to Ferrar’s birthday party. The stars above were scattered like diamonds across the velvety canvas of the sky, and the gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and laughter. The venue glowed with twinkling fairy lights, casting a warm and inviting glow that welcomed all who approached.

As Warner walked up to the entrance, the sounds of music and chatter grew louder, creating a vibrant backdrop for the festivities. The door swung open, revealing a scene of merriment. Colorful decorations adorned the walls, and a table groaned under the weight of tantalizing treats and a towering birthday cake.

Warner stepped into the vibrant atmosphere of the party, the lively energy wrapping around him like a warm embrace. The chatter of friends catching up and the clinking of glasses created a harmonious symphony that echoed through the room. Balloons in a riot of colors hovered above, swaying gently as if dancing to the rhythm of the music.

As soon as he entered, he saw you.

Amidst the lively crowd, Warner’s eyes were drawn to you. There you were, amidst a whirlwind of movement, dancing with none other than the birthday girl, Juliette Ferrars. Your smile was a beacon of pure joy, radiating the kind of happiness that could light up the entire room. Warner’s heart seemed to skip a beat as he watched the two of you move in sync, the laughter on your lips infectious.

Juliette, with her graceful movements, complemented your dance perfectly. It was as if the two of you were lost in a world of your own, the surrounding party fading into the background. As soon as you twirl Ferrars around, you kiss her and when you pull away, you guys laugh, you look around the room and you’ve caught a familiar gorgeous green eyes. You smiled At Warner, about to wave at him but Ferrars caught you in another kiss.

It hit him like a knife to the heart. He hoped his face didn’t express the disappointment he felt.

Why does he feel like this?

He doesn’t care. He should not. Aaron keeps thinking the same dialogue over and over again in his head. He doesn’t care. He really didn't, So, he found himself in a mini bar drinking his bitterness away.

The soft glow of the bar’s neon sign beckoned like a warm beacon on a cool evening, the gentle hum of chatter and clinking glasses creating a comfortable backdrop. The air was thick with the aroma of various drinks, and the low murmur of conversations of the other guest beside him.

Settling onto a barstool, Warner ordered another one of his preferred drinks and watched as the bartender expertly mixed it. The clinking of ice cubes and the sound of liquid pouring were oddly soothing. God, he’s dru—no, just tipsy.

As Warner took another sip, a presence approached the bar. It was Ferrars. Hell, what would she want from him now? Parade her win? She slipped onto the stool beside him, a smile playing on her lips. “Well, well, fancy meeting you here.” Warner only hummed in response that made Ferrars scoff. He heard her ordered a drink for herself.

“Why don’t you join us outside, Warner? Instead of just sticking yourself in this bar.” Ferrars started as she took a sip of her drink after saying those words.

“This party is boring.” Warner said, plainly.

“This is my birthday party.” Juliette deadpanned.

“Oh, right.” Warner only received an eyebrow raise in response, expecting something from him. Hell.

“Happy birthday.” Warner said with a sarcastic and plain tone.

“Wow. Okay. Thank you.” Juliette says, “My lo—y/n talked about you.” Ferrars continued. Warner had caught the slipped up of the pet name. My love. Hell, Warner is gonna vomit.

“Only good ones I hope.” He replied as he took a sip to his drink.

“She told me The Camping Trip incident.” Juliette says as she laughed, recalling the story that you have told her.

Warner was surprised. “Oh that,” he chuckled, the memories flooding back. “We practically lived on marshmallows and terrible ghost stories.”

Ferrars laughed, her expression a mixture of fondness and amusement. “And that time you guys got lost in the woods, and you were convinced that you all were in some kind of Blair Witch scenario.” Warner scowled in response.

“Hey, it was dark, and those trees all look the same!” Warner reasoned. Juliette only laughed harder.

“Didn’t you try fighting a bear? Surely you can’t reason that stupid action.” She says as she looks at Warner, challenging him.

“I was young.” Warner defended himself. Juliette only hummed as she drank her glass.

“You were young and stupid, Aaron.” The next voice that sounded through the kitchen made Warner’s heart stop for a moment. Warner saw Ferrars go to you to link her arm through yours.

He needs another drink.

“Was I?” He countered with a smirk.

You laughed in return, mirroring his smirk.

“My darling, shall we dance? It will be midnight soon. My birthday would end in like 30 minutes.” Juliette said, looking between You and Warner with a frown.

“Oh, sure, love,” you kissed her lips and led her back to the party. Warner felt himself breathing again when you were out of sight.

____

In a matter of moments, Warner found himself aimlessly wandering through the sprawling house, Laughter echoed in the halls, intertwined with the gentle strains of music.

Every door he passed seemed to hold a couple engrossed in their own world, and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sheer display of affection in hoping to discover a new vacant bathroom that wasn't occupied by overly affectionate couples lost in each other's company, as the party started to wind down, Warner found himself outside Juliette Ferrars room.

He was not intentionally eavesdropping, but the voices from inside were hard to ignore.

“It’s just... it’s complicated, okay?” your voice sounded frustrated.

“And I get that, but it feels like you are not fully here with me,” Juliette's voice responded, a blend of hurt and concern woven into her tone.

“And the way you looked at—” Juliette's voice trembled, and her words came to an abrupt halt, as if she were struggling to contain her emotions. Aaron paused, his gaze settling on the partially open door of Ferrars' bedroom.

Warner found himself in an inadvertent state of eavesdropping, his guilt mingling with his intrigue. The words exchanged between you and Juliette were raw and real, and he couldn't help but listen, drawn into the unguarded exchange.

“Juli, it’s not what you’re thinking,” you softly said.

“ Is it not?” she said. You guys were in the middle of the room, fighting if that is not clear enough.

“I thought-” she choked a bit. Voice trembling.

"Juls-"

"No, baby," Juliette responded, her tone unwavering, your emotions laid bare. “We were... I thought—“

A heavy pause followed, and Warner could almost feel the weight of the conversation. Warner hears ferrars sighs.

“you even let me met your parents, and I remember thinking that our future seemed fucking promising..”

“We still can—We still have that future.” you insist, determined.

Juliette let out a pained laugh.

“No, we don’t, because you have never looked at me the way you looked at him tonight.” Juliette’s voice trembled, revealing a vulnerability she rarely displayed. But despite that, she delivered the line harshly.

Warner's brows furrowed as he tried to piece together the puzzle. Who were you and Juliette talking about? He couldn't shake off the curiosity that gnawed at him, urging him to understand the source of your conflict.

Is it Kenji Kishimoto?

Warner’s curiosity got the better of him as he strained to hear the conversation. You guys were arguing about some 'him' , but the details were hazy. He couldn’t help but wonder who that ‘someone’ was.

“Please, just listen-” your voice was soft, a plea laced with frustration.

"You're not dishonest, my love," she interjected, her tone adopting a more tender and sweet quality. "Just tell me you prefer me, you choose me, you love me more than you love him. If you can, I'll put it all behind us. I will forget about it."

You went dead silent.

The silence that followed your response was deafening. Warner could practically feel the tension in the room, the unspoken emotions hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. It was as if a connection had snapped between you two, leaving behind a void that neither of you knew how to bridge

“I’m so sorry,” you finally whispered. The weight of your words is palpable.

Juliette sighed. Expecting the answer, Warner can see her holding down the sobs.

“Let’s just enjoy the rest of the party, shall we?” Ferrars voice was tinged in sadness. “We can talk about this later. Let's have a last dance.”

He swiftly turned away from the door, his steps quickening as he made his way down the hallway. He needed to retreat, to give you both the privacy you deserved. Warner got away quickly to the bathroom

Inside the bathroom, he washed his hands, his gaze lingering on his reflection in the mirror. Confusion knitted his brows together as he replayed the fragments of your conversation in his mind.

Were you guys talking about kishimoto?

The thought struck him like a jolt. Could it be that you were struggling to move on from him? The image of Kenji, charismatic and charming, filled Warner's thoughts, and he couldn't help but question the impact he had on your relationship with Juliette.

Is it because you just couldn’t get over him?

If you broke up with Juliette Perfect Ferrars because of Kenji Kishimoto, did anyone else have ever stood a chance with you?

Did he-No.

Warner wouldn’t think like that.

He should not care. It doesn’t concern him.

Warner shook his head, trying to dismiss the idea as he dried his hands. He refused to entertain thoughts that would only lead to unnecessary doubts and insecurities. But deep down, a nagging curiosity lingered—a curiosity that would drive him to madness and insanity.

Days later, Warner learned from Kent and Nazeera that you and Juliette had ended your relationship.

Few weeks after that revelation, news reached him that You and Kenji Kishimoto had gotten back together.

It was clear to him that you always gravitate back to kishimoto.

Killian Déicides.

The cycle has repeated once more—You and Kishimoto have broken up. Again. And months later, you have gotten yourself a new boyfriend. Killian Déicides.

It was the longest you had been apart from Kishimoto, nearly five months—not that Warner was counting.

During this period, Kishimoto had found himself a new girlfriend in the companionship of Nazeera Ibrahim, ushering in a new chapter of his own. The pairing had managed to raise eyebrows and ignite conversations, sparking intrigue among your shared circle from other people.

Apparently, you were okay with this. Which is something that surprised Warner. I mean, your ex-boyfriend is dating your best friend? And you’re fine with this? Ridiculous.

From a distance, he observed with a tinge of bitterness as you and Killian forged a bond. Every shared laugh, tender touch, and exchanged glance felt like a jab to his chest. The narrative of your relationship unfolded before him like a story he wished he could tear apart, but all he could do was watch as it progressed, unable to rewrite its course.

As he observed Killian, a critical eye analyzed his character, highlighting his perceived shortcomings and fueling his bitterness.

He hates him. Hates the way Déicides can feel your laugh against his lips, hates the way he can rest his forehead to yours and gaze to your eyes as much as he wants, hates that he can make you shiver from his touch, hates him.

Warner didn’t know why it bothers him so much, why it bothers him the way déicides whisper sweet nothings to your ears or the way he has you secured in his arms. It’s ridiculous.

__

Valentines Day, Circa 2039.

The day had draped itself in an air of romance, as couples nestled close to one another, entwined in the celebration of love. It was Valentine's Day, a day that Aaron Warner typically avoided with fervor. Yet here he was, standing alone on the terrace by the garden, attempting to escape the saccharine atmosphere that permeated the place and some insufferable couples. (you and Killian to be exact.)

From his point of view, he could see the couples—some nestled on the couches, the field, library, others dancing under the soft glow of string lights. It was an annoying sight.

He leaned against the terrace railing, gazing out at the garden below. The sun cast a warm sheen over the blossoms, giving the scenery a dreamlike quality. The peace and quiet were a welcome respite from the relentless cheerfulness that had filled the school’s interior.

Yet, the serenity was short-lived. The soft pad of footsteps interrupted the stillness, and a voice spoke up from behind him.

"Valentine's should be about going out and making out with some strangers, y'know."

Startled, Warner turned to find you standing there, a small smile playing on your lips as you joined him on the terrace. The surprise of your presence coupled with the lightness of your words momentarily rendered him speechless.

You stepped closer, your eyes scanning the garden as if searching for those elusive strangers "I mean, why waste it on being alone here when there are so many intriguing strangers out there for you to kiss?" Your tone was light, but there was a hint of mischief in your eyes.

Warner couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, his usual guard momentarily lowered in your presence. "I suppose you have a point," he conceded, allowing a smile to tug at the corner of his lips. "But then again, I've never been one for making out with strangers."

You laughed softly, the sound carrying a warmth that wrapped around his heart. "Fair enough," you replied, your gaze now focused on him. "So, what brings you to the terrace on this fine Valentine's Day?"

Warner glanced out at the garden, then back at you. "Just needed a breather," he admitted. "The whole lovey-dovey atmosphere inside was starting to feel suffocating."

You nodded in understanding, your eyes softening as they met him. "I get that," you said. "It can be a bit overwhelming, can't it?"

"More than a bit," Warner replied with a rueful smile. "But I suppose it's all in good fun for those who enjoy it."

You leaned against the terrace railing beside him, your shoulder brushing against his lightly. "True," you said, your voice quiet. "But sometimes, it's nice to have a quiet moment away from it all."

Warner couldn't agree more. As he looked at you, bathed in the soft glow of the sun’s warm light, he realized that this quiet moment with you was the best part of the day. He had always admired your ability to see beyond the surface, to appreciate the simple moments amidst the chaos.

A comfortable silence settled between you and him, broken only by the distant strains of music and laughter from inside. Warner found himself stealing glances at you, his heart aching with a longing he had buried deep within himself.

Finally, he couldn't contain it any longer. "You and Killian seem happy," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your gaze turned to him, and you offered a small, genuine smile. "We are," you replied. "He's been wonderful."

Warner nodded, his eyes tracing the delicate features of your face. "I'm glad," he said, his words carrying a sincerity that surprised even him.

You looked at him for a moment, a knowing expression in your eyes. "But…" you prompted, your voice gentle.

Warner hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "But…?" He urged you,

”There are moments when I can't help but wonder what it would be like if things were different.”

You met his gaze steadily, your eyes filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored his own. "I know what you mean," Warner said softly.

The admission hung in the air between them, unspoken yet understood. Warner's heart swelled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Could there be a chance for something more, or was this moment destined to remain a fleeting glimpse into what could have been?

As if sensing his turmoil, you reached out and gently touched his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. The connection sent a jolt of warmth through him, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe," he said, his voice barely audible,

"Someday, things will be different."

You nodded, a sense of peace washing over you. “Someday,” you agreed, your heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

Together, you stood on the terrace, bathed in the soft glow of the sun, sharing a quiet moment that held the promise of something more—an unspoken hope for a future where the timing was right and love could flourish without barriers.

Until,,,

Warner's heart sank as he heard Killian's voice in the distance, calling your name. He watched as you turned around, your smile brightening as you waited for him to join you on the terrace.

In that moment, all of Warner's hopes and fantasies of having this day with you, just you, were shattered.

He had allowed himself to believe, just for a brief moment, that maybe this Valentine's Day could be different. That perhaps he could have had a chance to be the one by your side, sharing this quiet, intimate moment with you. But reality had a cruel way of reminding him.

As Killian approached, his arm slipping around your waist, It was a feeling he had grown accustomed to, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

You introduced Dèicides to Warner, the two men exchanging polite greetings. Warner forced a smile, concealing the tumult of emotions swirling within him. He couldn't let you or Killian see how much this moment had irritated him.

Warner watched, a pang of knife hitting him as you and Killian shared a tender kiss. His eyes couldn't help but linger on the intimate moment between the two of you.

"Why do you keep kissing me?" you asked, breaking the kiss and gazing into Killian's eyes.

"Because I love kissing you," Killian replied with a soft, affectionate smile.

So do I.

Damn me, So do I.

Warner thought, his mind betraying him in that vulnerable moment.

He felt a pang of aching, a surge of bitterness, but above all, he felt an overwhelming longing and desire.

Oh, what a person he has become.

I don’t want you to see who I have become. It’s bad, my love. It’s so bad.

He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way. You were with Déicides now. Warner turned away, his fists clenched at his sides, as he fought to suppress his emotions. He needed to remind himself that he should not care. It’s none of his business.

Warner excused himself, citing the need to rejoin the festivities inside. He couldn't bear to stay on the terrace any longer, not when it was now tainted with the knowledge that he would never have this day with you alone.

As he retreated into the dining hall, the sounds of laughter and celebration seemed distant and hollow. Warner found solace in the shadows, cherishing the bittersweet memory of that fleeting moment on the terrace—a moment he had desperately wished could have been his, and his alone.

For a moment there, Aaron Warner really thought he’d have this day with you. Only you.

He’s proven wrong yet again.

__

A month had passed since Valentine’s Day, Warner had done a pretty good job avoiding you and your boyfriend. But despite that, Warner couldn't help but notice the change in your relationship. He observed the way your interactions had shifted, like a puzzle piece that no longer fit quite right. There was an undercurrent of insecurity in your touches, and the kisses that once landed on the lips were now exchanged on the cheeks. Your stolen glances lacked the usual warmth and affection, replaced by something more guarded.

The change in your dynamics didn't go unnoticed by the people around you. Whispers and rumors began to circulate throughout the school, with everyone speculating about what had gone wrong this time. Even Kent, who rarely spoke to either you or Killian, had developed his own theories, all of them far from the truth.

Warner found himself torn between the desire to reach out and ask if you were okay and the understanding that he had no right to intrude on your relationship with Killian. He couldn't deny the pang of jealousy that twisted in his chest when he saw you with someone else, even though he had no claim over you.

One day, as he was walking through the school courtyard, Warner overheard a group of students discussing your relationship.

"I heard they've been fighting a lot lately," one girl said, her voice hushed.

"Really? What about?" another girl asked.

"I don't know, but it's not the same as it used to be. They used to be so lovey-dovey, and now they barely even hold hands," the first girl replied.

Warner continued walking, trying to drown out the conversation.

It annoys to hear others talking about you, dissecting your relationship as if it were a gossip column. But he couldn't deny that he was also curious about what had caused the shift between you and Killian.

A week later, news began to spread throughout the school like wildfire: Killian Déicides had transferred to another school. The reasons behind his departure remained a mystery to most, but the end of your relationship with him was clear. The whispers and rumors that had once surrounded you and Killian now shifted to the breakup, and it seemed like everyone had something to say about it.

Aaron Warner couldn't ignore the news, even though he had been trying to keep his distance. It was impossible not to feel a mixture of sympathy and concern for you, knowing that you were going through a difficult time.

One evening, as he was wandering the school grounds, Warner found himself drawn to the astronomy tower. It was a quiet and secluded spot, far away from the prying eyes and gossip of the other students. He climbed the steps and pushed open the door, finding you standing by one of the telescopes, gazing up at the night sky.

You looked up as he entered, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. Warner's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, and all thoughts of staying away flew out of his mind.

“Can I hold you close?” He quietly asked.

You blinked once, twice—thrice, it takes a full seconds to process what he had said.

“Oh, I’m so—“

“Of course, you can.”

Now, it’s his turn to blink. You laughed at the sight.

Warner simply walked over and enveloped you in a warm, comforting hug. You buried your face in his chest, and he could feel your tears dampening his shirt.

You didn't say anything, and neither did he. You don’t have to say anything. You know Warner is also fluent in silence as much as you are.

He didn't need to ask what had happened; the news of Killian's departure had spread quickly, and he could only imagine how you must be feeling. Instead, he held you tightly, offering silent support and understanding.

After a while, when your tears had subsided, Warner gently pulled away, his hands resting on your shoulders. He looked into your eyes with a mixture of concern and compassion.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, your voice barely more than a whisper. "No, I'm not."

Warner nodded, his expression filled with empathy. He didn't press for details; he knew that sometimes, all you needed was someone to be there for you. He reached out and wiped away a stray tear from your cheek.

"It's okay not to be okay," he said gently. "And you don't have to go through this alone."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, and it warmed his heart. Warner knew that he couldn't fix everything, but he could be there for you in this moment of vulnerability.

As you both stood in the quiet of the astronomy tower, Warner continued to offer his support. He listened as you talked about your feelings, your frustrations, and your uncertainties about the future. He didn't offer empty reassurances or quick fixes; instead, he let you express yourself, knowing that sometimes, that was all you needed.

After a while, Warner spoke up “I mean, who needs him anyway?” He said, trying to make the atmosphere lighter.

To be fair, Aaron’s perspective on you and Killian’s break up are extremely biased because he only heard one side of the story.

“Yeah, fuck him and his stupid excuses. I don’t need him anyway.” You agreed as you laughed with warner. Dimples.

If you ever fall to your knees, you are sure Nazeera would be there to kneel beside you.

If you get lost in the woods or drowns In the ocean, you are sure that Juliette and Kenji will do whatever it takes to find you and bring you back to the surface.

And if you return to Aaron Warner with a broken heart, you are sure that he will piece them back together with his bare hands—even going out his way to fill in the gaps with his own.

“Right,” he mutters as he watches the whole sky through your eyes. “You have me, at least.” Warner added.

“No,” you correct Aaron, “thank all the gods I have you. Always.”

___

3 weeks after that, You and Kenji Kishimoto have gotten back together.

You always come back to kenji.

You always come back to kishimoto even when you have other (better) options.

Kenji Kishimoto.

PRESENT.

Out of every Exes you ever had, Aaron Warner, has always found himself praying for Kenji Kishimoto’s downfall more.

It was messy. Warner knows it. Hell, even the parents know that you and Kishimoto have a complicated relationship. You guys would break up and then boom, months later you guys are back together.

It was an annoying sight. In all 3 years you and kishimoto are together, there would be no year where you and him have never broken up then getting back together after a few months in.

Kent and Ferrars have decided to join the dance, leaving Warner on his own. Warner quickly found a couch he could sit on. He’s now reading some magazines that were on the table.

“Warner, fancy seeing you here,” a voice drawled, its arrogance evident even in the casual greeting.

Warner’s eyes flicked up from the magazine he had been pretending to read, meeting Kishimoto’s gaze with a thinly veiled look of indifference.

“Kishimoto.” Warner greeted.

Kenji leaned against a nearby wall, his posture casual and infuriatingly confident. “Please, Don’t let me interrupt your reading session, blondie.”

Warner closed the magazine, his patience waning.

”What do you want, Kishimoto?”

Kishimoto lips curled into a smug smile, his gaze holding a glint of something that irked Warner.

“I just thought we could have a little chat.”

Warner's eyes narrowed, his tone terse. “I highly doubt we have anything to discuss.”

Kishimoto chuckled, unfazed by Warner’s obvious disdain. “You know, Blondie, it’s fascinating how much you seem to dislike me.”

Warner's jaw clenched, his voice icy. “How Observant of you.”

Kenji's smile widened, his amusement unwavering.

“Tell me, is it because you’re jealous? You know, you’ve never been one to shy away from competition.”

Warner’s restraint wavered, his temper simmering beneath the surface. ”You’re sorely mistaken if you think I see you as competition.”

Kenji's expression shifted, a flash of something that seemed almost like amusement mixed with genuine curiosity. “Then what is it, Warner? Why do you hate me so much?”

Warner’s gaze hardened, his voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt. “You have nothing to do with me, kishimoto. My opinions on you are of no consequence.”

Kenji's gaze held Warner's, the unspoken tension hanging heavy between them. With a sigh, he took a seat in front of Warner. “You’re not very good at pretending, you know.”

Warner's brows furrowed in confusion at the unexpected statement. “Pretending? What are you talking about?”

Kenji leaned back, his posture relaxed. “You can't stand the fact that we've got a history, can you?”

Warner's irritation flared. “History? You mean the endless cycle of dramatic reunions?”

Kenji chuckled. “Exactly. And you hate it, don't you? You hate that there's a part of her life that doesn’t revolve around you.”

Warner's frustration grew, his voice edged with a sharpness. “You're delusional if you think I'm hung up on that.”

Kenji's gaze never wavered, his tone softening slightly.

“You love her.” Kenji said, more of a statement than a question.

Warner laughed with the absurdity, “I’m not in love with her,” he said, “Don't read into things you know nothing about.” Warner Added with a mockery tone.

“Oh, I know more than you think.” Kishimoto said with a smirk.

“Do you ever shut up?” Warner countered back, as he leaned back at his chair.

“Not when it comes to you, asshole.” Kishimoto shot back as he copied Warner's previous action.

“I’m not in the mood to play games with you, kishimoto.” He warned.

Kishimoto only laughed, “are you ever?” He mused making Warner roll his eyes, “besides it’s not a game, it’s just facts.”

“Your interpretation of facts is seriously twisted,” Warner hissed, his voice edged with exasperation.

Kenji's lips curled into an infuriatingly smug smile. “Deny it all you want, but deep down, you know it's true.”

Warner's green eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched in frustration. “Just stay out of my way.”

Kenji's laughter echoed off the walls. “Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“You're pushing your luck, Kishimoto,” Warner warned through gritted teeth.

Kenji's gaze remained steady, unyielding. “Or maybe I'm pushing your buttons.”

Warner's patience was wearing thin. “You're not as clever as you think.”

Kenji's grin only widened. “Oh, I'm clever enough to see through your act.”

“I have no act, just disdain for you.”

Kenji's retort came quick and smug. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Their words clashed like swords, each one determined not to back down.

“Are you ever serious?”

Kenji's tone held an undertone of mockery. “Why so serious, Warner?”

“I'm warning you,” Warner growled, his patience on the edge.

Kenji's eyebrows lifted playfully. “Are you now? What are you going to do about it?”

“You're impossible.”

Kenji's lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “Impossible to ignore, maybe?”

Warner shook his head in disbelief. “Why can't you just leave me alone?”

Kenji's smile remained infuriatingly intact. “Because I enjoy getting under your skin.”

“You're deluded.”

Kenji's expression turned contemplative. “Am I? Or am I the one who's seeing things clearly?”

Warner's frustration was nearing its peak. “Enough, Kishimoto.”

Kenji's voice dropped slightly, a glint of something more sincere in his eyes. “So you understand what I'm trying to say?”

Warner's response was sharp, laced with a mixture of irritation and disdain. “I understand you enough to know I don't like you.”

Kenji's grin was unabated. “And yet, here we are, having a lovely chat.”

Warner's patience was dwindling, his words laced with finality. “Just go away, Kishimoto.”

Silence.

Kishimoto's laughter rang out as he playfully positioned himself by Warner's side. Despite Aaron's attempt to evade, Kenji's agility won out. With a swift movement, Kenji caught Warner's chin, tilting his face in the direction where you stood.

“How about admitting that y/n might have feelings for you?” Kenji quipped, his tone light but suggestive.

Warner didn’t have to admit it. Because he already knew.

Warner shooed Kishimoto’s arm as he leaned himself in, still looking at you.

This, however, did not go unnoticed by kenji.

“I’m not in love with her.” Kenji recalled warners words to his head, but he saw it in warners eyes, the way he looked at you (like right now) it was full of admiration and devotion.

“Aaron is just a friend, kenj” Kenji Remembers the way you assured him, but he saw the way you looked at your feet and turned your eyes away from him to hide the truth.

Everyone could see it. Kenji can see it.

The way Aaron Warners name rolled off your soft lips like a sweet honey,

The way Warner looked at you like it’s his first time seeing the sun,

The way your name rolled out of his tongue as if it’s a prayer.

Full of devotion.

Kenji is sure that Warner could make a religion out of the way your name sits on his tongue.

Kenji’s thoughts were abruptes by Warner who now stood up and clearly went to the terrace.

Of course, Kenji followed him.

“You need to leave me alone.” Warner exhaled.

“Nah, Let’s talk.”

“We already did.”

“Not enough. Let’s talk about you and y/n’s making out sessions.”

Warner froze, he’s surprised. Of course kishimoto would know.

“y/n always tells you everything, huh?” He breathed out.

Ah, of course, you slipped out of his arms, opting instead to trail after Kenji. The plan was to fill him in on the recent exchange – a typical move in your playbook. After all, you and Kenji had an established rhythm: breaking up only to inevitably find your way back together, rendering the current situation a temporary blip on the radar.

That was the pattern, until the next breakup.

“Only the things that actually mattered, I assume,” Kishimoto responded, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness. “You know, Honesty is the key to a good and healthy relationship.”

“You guys are far from a healthy relationship.” Warner told kenji.

“And you think you guys have?” Kenji shots back.

“We don’t have any relationship.” Warner uttered.

“Could have.” Kenji's voice turned softer, almost a whisper.

The words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning.

“You were supposed to be broken up.”

A sly smile curved Kenji's lips. “Ah, you would love that, wouldn’t you, Warner?”

Halloween Party, Circa 2039.

3 years. 3 long years. Where You and Kenji were in an on and off relationship. Never so long together, let alone apart. And Aaron Warner couldn’t understand how. How Kenji saw you with other people when you guys were broken up and was fine with that. And how he managed to be with other people with you just right there.

It was messy. He knows it. Things got complicated when Kenji decided to date a friend of yours, but that cooled down.

Warner now found himself in a hallway, once again, eavesdropping on You and Kishimoto’s fight. He didn’t mean it to be in this kind of situation but here he is.

“I’m tired, y/n.” Warner heard Kenji’s voice coming from inside the room. Warner was silent so as not to disturb the couple and also because he was very curious to know what was going on between them.

“It’s the same fucking talk all over aga—”

“And you don’t think I’m not tired too!? ” you cut him off, shouting. You guys were silent for a while, the tension was thick, it was almost suffocating him. So, Warner left.

Hours later, Warner found you on the terrace, your gaze lost in the starry night. He leaned against the open door frame, the soft glow from the terrace lights casting gentle shadows on your face. He smiled warmly at you.

"What's on your mind, dove?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle you.

You turned your head, surprise flickering across your features before a smile graced your lips. "Things," you replied simply, though the weight of your unspoken thoughts was evident.

"Can I join you?" Warner asked, his voice gentle.

"Always," you replied, your smile growing warmer.

Warner stepped out onto the terrace, the cool night air brushing against his skin. He settled beside you, both of you gazing out at the peaceful night sky.

"You look miserable," he observed quietly.

You chuckled softly, the sound like music to his ears. "I feel like it, too."

Warner couldn't help but laugh along with you. "Well, I'm here to keep you company, for what it's worth."

"Thank you, Aaron," you said sincerely, your eyes filled with gratitude.

"Of course," he replied, his gaze never leaving you.

There was a comfortable silence between you, the tranquility of the night providing a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

The evening air was cool, and the stars twinkled in the night sky as you and Warner stood on the balcony, the distant sounds of laughter and music from the party below drifting up to you. It had been a night of celebration, but now, in this quiet moment alone, it felt like the perfect opportunity to speak your mind.

"Aaron, can I tell you a secret?" you finally ventured.

"Always," he responded, his tone warm and reassuring.

You took a deep breath before continuing. "Me and Kenji have been broken up since June."

Warner was hardly surprised by your confession. He had observed the signs, the strained interactions between you and Kenji. Yet, hearing it from your own lips somehow made it feel more real.

"Me and him decided not to tell anyone because we know everyone is getting tired of our bullshit," you continued, your voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecating humor.

Warner shifted his gaze to the starlit sky, his thoughts racing. He wanted to say something comforting, something that would ease the burden you were carrying, but the words eluded him.

"It's nobody's business," he finally said, his voice gentle yet supportive.

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had lifted from your shoulders.

"Soon enough, you guys will get back together. You always do," Warner replied, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

You sighed, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. "That's the problem. I think we are done for good. Finally hitted the rock bottom."

Warner shifted slightly closer to you, your faces now mere inches apart. The soft glow from the terrace lights illuminated the anticipation in both your eyes.

"Aaron," you whispered, your breath brushing against his lips. "Kiss me."

"Kiss me, Aaron Warner."

Time seemed to stand still as you gazed into each other's eyes, the tension between you palpable. But Warner, paralyzed by his own uncertainty, remained frozen.

A few seconds later, you both heard Kenji's voice calling out your name from a distance. Warner reluctantly moved away, a mixture of longing and regret in his eyes.

"Your boyfriend's here," he said, his voice strained.

You nodded, swallowing the disappointment that welled up within you.

At the moment, you achingly wished for him to just please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of just leaving you. But of course, Warner turned and walked away, leaving you on the terrace, your heart heavy with unspoken words and unanswered desires.

As you watched him go, you couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if he had kissed you, if you had both taken that leap of faith. But for now, the timing was not in your favor, and you were left with the lingering ache of what could have been.

As Warner walked away, he harshly bumped into Kenji, not looking at him or saying sorry. He had made a decision, not a smart one. But he had made a decision and he’s already regretting it.

After the Halloween party, by Christmas, you and kenji Kishimoto are officially back together. Again.

You will and always come back to him.

Even when everyone thought (even him) you were never going to come back to him, you did. You always do and will.

___

PRESENT.

As Warner recalled the memory, he couldn't help it but echoed Kenji's question to his mind.

You would love that wouldn’t you, Warner?

“Very much so.” Warner finally admitted.

“Ohh fucking finally. Now, tell me why? What’s the reason?” Kenji dared to ask as he teased him, pushing his buttons more.

“Because none of you all deserved her.” Warner said what he had been swallowing all these years.

Nazeera didn't deserve to be your first kiss. Zayden Knox didn't deserve to be your first boyfriend. Killian Déicides didn't deserve the time he had with you. Surely Astrid Rhodes didn't deserve to have touched you. Juliette Ferrars, who didn't even fight for you. And Kenji fucking Kishimoto, who had you again, and again, and again. And as always, he without fail let you slip through his fingers.

“Wow, okay,” Kenji smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Do you think I'm the one who's breaking up with her? Most of the time, it's always the other way around. If someone is breaking someone's heart, it's her, not me,” he continued, exhaling a puff of smoke. “I'm serious. It might look like I'm the heartbreaker, but it's really her. I'm not trashing her or anything.”

Warner was taken aback. None of this made sense. Could it be that a year ago, on this very day, you had wanted more than just a momentary distraction because you missed Kenji? You had wanted him, and he hadn't wanted you back. He had let you slip away, just like those he had criticized and hated.

“No,” Warner muttered, struggling to find the right words to defend you even though he knew deep inside it was right. He will always be ready to defend your honor, and always ready to reshape the reality of if you were in the wrong just so you can always be right. That’s what he had been doing for the past years.

Kenji took another drag from his cigarette, considering Warner's words. “Anyway, Y/N and I are done for good. We really can’t keep doing this for another year,” he said, his tone solemn.

"Really?" Warner asked, his heart racing in his chest.

Kenji nodded. “Yup. This year was the worst of our relationship, even though it was the one we spent the most time together.”

Kenji sighed, reflecting on your and his relationship complicated history. “I think we've always found comfort in each other, you know? It's like the memories and the time we spent with each other are what we really hold onto, not our relationship. But despite that, we'll always care for each other.”

Kenji gave a knowing look and added, “Nothing will change that.” He said as if it’s a warning to Aaron.

Warner couldn't help but ask, "Why now?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Kenji took a final drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke into the air. “Because we need to move forward, to let go,” he said, shrugging. “Because she's finally ready to fight for you, That's what I came to tell you.”

Warner's eyes widened, disbelief washing over him. "We have nothing to fight for," he replied, although it was a lie.

Kenji smiled knowingly. “You should admit it, Warner. If not to Y/N, at least to yourself.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Warner alone with his thoughts.

"Damn him," Warner muttered under his breath, a mix of frustration and longing in his heart.

Aaron Warner.

PRESENT.

He despised them all, there was no denying it. That's what it had come down to.

He acknowledged that the sensation churning in the depths of his stomach was a mixture of hatred and jealousy directed at your former partners. It had apparently been festering there for an extended period, steadily intensifying, and waiting for him to acknowledge it, or for him to stop pretending. It was time for him to face the truth. He was head over heels in love with you, and the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

That he, Aaron Warner Anderson, was completely, foolishly and totally in love with you.

One year ago, on this very day, he had possibly squandered his chances with you. He couldn't help but wonder if he had allowed himself to kiss you that night, could it have altered the course of our lives? We might have celebrated a year together today, an entire year with you.

Warner shut his eyes tightly, just as he had done on that fateful night. He knew better than to dwell on the past, to chase shadows that had long slipped through his grasp. It was a futile endeavor.

His infatuation with you had started when he was just fifteen. He had witnessed your first kiss with one of his friends, and ever since that moment, an empty feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach.

When you had started dating Zayden Knox, Warner couldn't fathom why you had chosen him. He found Zayden shallow and irritating, far from the ideal partner for someone as exceptional as you.

Astrid Rhodes, in Warner's eyes, was entirely undeserving of your presence. He could hardly stand the thought of her sharing the same air as you.

Your on-and-off relationship with Kenji had only intensified Warner's inner longing and turmoil. You broke up countless times, only to reunite even more frequently. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that drove him to the brink of insanity.

Juliette Ferrars, kind and lovely as she was, could not escape Warner's disdain. The sole reason for his animosity was that she had been your girlfriend.

Then there was the matter of Killian, who had never truly desired you, yet had somehow managed to possess you. That had stoked the fires of Warner's resentment even further.

But most of all, Aaron Warner, despised himself. He was utterly foolish for not realizing his feelings for you sooner. He loathed himself for pretending that he wasn't in love with you for more than six agonizing years.

With each passing day, the emptiness in the pit of his stomach grew, a void that could only be filled with one thing—action. He had become his own worst enemy, too afraid to confront his feelings.

It was time for Warner to face the truth. He couldn't continue this way, allowing the hatred to consume him. It was time to break free from the shackles of his own fears and let his feelings be known.

But how? How could he convey this whirlwind of emotions to you? How could he bridge the chasm that separated them, a chasm of his own making?

Warner found himself wandering through the memories of those moments he had witnessed you with others. He remembered the first time he saw you kiss someone, the way his heart ached as he watched from the shadows.

And then there was Zayden Knox, the one he couldn't stand. Warner couldn't fathom why you had chosen him as your partner. He had always believed you deserved so much more.

Astrid Rhodes, a name that brought a sour taste to his mouth. She had never deserved to bask in your radiant presence. Warner had always felt she was unworthy of you.

Kenji, the source of endless heartache. Your on-again, off-again relationship had driven Warner to the brink of madness. The constant separation and reunion had been a torment he couldn't escape.

Juliette Ferrars, a kind soul, but Warner couldn't help but find flaws in her when it came to her being your girlfriend. He couldn't shake the irrational jealousy that reared its head whenever he thought of her.

Killian, who had never truly valued you, had held you in his grasp. It was a wound that festered, fueling his resentment.

And then, in the midst of all these emotions, Warner realized the crux of the matter. He was the one he despised the most. He had let fear control him, and in doing so, he had let you slip through his fingers.

As he contemplated his inner turmoil, Warner knew that he had to find a way to confront his feelings. He couldn't let his love for you remain a silent, unspoken truth. The time had come to break free from the grip of his own insecurities and tell you how he felt.

Warner couldn’t keep this hidden any longer. The weight of his unspoken affection had grown unbearable, and he needed to act. He had to find a way to communicate his love for you, and he couldn't let fear stand in his way any longer.

His heart aches for words he never had a chance to say. He had to find you, to speak to you, to lay his heart bare.

After what felt like eternity, he spotted you across the room. You were engaged in conversation with nazeera and juliette., your smile lighting up the room. Aaron could not tear his eyes away from you, captivated by your presence.

With determination, he wove his way through the lively gathering, his eyes never leaving you. The chatter around him faded into a distant hum as he approached.

Finally, he stood before you, and you turned to him, a warm smile curving your lips. The party continued around you, but in that instant, it was as if everything had come to a standstill.

”Y/N,” Aaron began, “Can I have a talk with you, please?” He asked you, his request hung between the both of you.

You watched him, your eyes filled with curiosity. “Of course, Aaron. Let’s find a quieter place to talk.” you suggested, your voice soft and encouraging. You knew there was something on his mind, and you wanted to hear it.

With a nod, He took your hand, and together you navigated your way through onto a terrace that overlooked the city. The noise from the party gradually faded, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of the night.

As you stepped onto the terrace, the city’s twinkling lights spread out before you, creating a breathtaking backdrop for your conversation. You found a secluded corner and settled.

He took a deep breath and locked eyes with you. “Y/N,” he began again, his voice steady, “Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, and a flashback came into your mind.

The words hung in the air, a heavy pause that seemed to stretch on. The party continued to surge around you, but at this moment, it was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Always,” you said, your voice filled with warmth.

He took a deep breath, his words heavy with emotion. “I’m in love with you.”

“Aaron.” you said.

“I am,” he said. He was staring at you. “I love you. I have been trying to find a word that is something deep and coherent to represent my devotion to you. I wish there was something better than I love you. I really love you. And I want to find out what that means together.” He breathed out.

"Aaron." You said again. Not knowing what else to say.

“And If home is a person, I’d gladly rush at the end of every day to you always, towards you. I carry your name everywhere I go, even when you are not around to hear it called. I recite it like a prayer. You are excruciatingly tender and it happens to be the only language I speak besides devotion,”

Warner reached up to your chin and made you look at his eyes,

"Those eyes spoke to me long enough in a way words could never translate and God knows how I was breaking apart."

You are speechless. Absolutely speechless. You don’t know what to say, you looked him straight into the eyes.

He said it. Aaron Warner finally said it. After those years, he finally told you. And God, he loves you in the same way we’ve drawn meaning from stars placed conveniently beside each other and established faiths out of constellations. Aaron Warner badly wants to carve your name out of stars.

The confession hung in the air, a profound declaration that reverberated through your soul. You reached out and gently touched his hand, a silent reassurance that you were there with him.

But before you could reply, he interrupted you. “Please,” he implored, desperation clear in his voice. “Please ask me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, and you asked, “Ask you what, Aaron?”

His eyes pleaded with you, and he stepped closer. “Ask me again to kiss you,” he said, his desperation visible to his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat as the weight of his words sank in. You had long wondered about his feelings, and now he had confessed his love. But his plea for you to ask him to kiss you revealed the depth of his desire. You could see the depth of his longing, the yearning he had held back for so long. It was a silent plea.

The world seemed to hold its breath as t And then, The city's lights shimmered in the background as you leaned in, and your lips met in a passionate, heartfelt kiss. It was a moment of surrender, a union of two hearts that had been entwined in secrecy for far too long.

Aaron is still panting from the intense kiss, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as he stares at you with a love-struck gaze.

You reach up and gently caress his cheek, feeling your own heart fluttering as you look into his eyes.

He smiles softly at you and leans in to press his forehead against yours, still feeling overcome by the passion and intensity of the moment.

“You have been driving me to madness, my love.” He says.

“Oh please, I haven’t even been around you enough to drive you mad!” You defended.

“The idea of you then.” He said, as you reach for another kiss.

“Mhm, no more evil exes..” Warner whispers.

“What?” You confusedly asked but was shut down as Warner pulled you in a kiss.

A few moments later, you share a small giggle together, feeling the tension dissipate into a calm but blissful state.

It’s over. He finally won.

(Aaron Warner) tag list 🏷 : @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan

+ @reminiscentreader @mrswifeyscoleman @kaileyn-everdeen @marlygee @hazzassmirk @myloveforreading @khaleesihavilliard @etheriaaly @reapers-lover @corpsedoll777 @dahliawarner @addiessblack @i-amtitania @timhalamet @butterfly-lover @scarz-xo @rippahwrites @elijahssuit @s0urw00lf @rifran @iamsatansoul @tqrgvryen

If you wanna be added to my official A.W. Tag list plz lmk!!! 💗

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters React to Finding Fanfic/Fanart of Themselves: A Collab with Cosmereplay

As requested by anon :)

I asked @cosmereplay to collab with me on this anon's request, and happily, she agreed! Basically, I've written the fanart parts of this, and Cosmereplay has taken care of the fanfic parts since I, ah, don't read fanfic and wouldn't know the really good jokes.

1. Shallan, Adolin, & Kaladin Read Fanfic

Shallan (reading tags): Hmmm...ace Kaladin, aromantic Kaladin, bisexual Kaladin, bottom Kaladin (I'll have to look into that one later...), demisexual Kaladin, demiromantic Kaladin, dom Kaladin... Adolin: What are the relationship tags like? Shallan: Let's see... blushes thoroughly OH LOOK KALADIN/SLEEP! THAT'S SO SWEET! Oooh...Kaladin/Happiness! Kaladin: Everybody's a critic. Adolin: They just want you to be happy, Kal! Kaladin: I-I'm fine most of the time!

2. Elend & Vin Look at Fanart

Elend: Wow! Stunning! Magnificent! Vin (peering over his shoulder): Uh, Elend, I think you're supposed to be looking at art of yourself. Those are all pictures of me. Elend: Can you blame me?? I mean look at you here! Vin: I suppose I look...somewhat cool there. Elend: Ascendent, I'd say!

3. Ellista and Pai Read "Covenant" by liesmyth

Ardent Ellista: Oh you HAVE to read this one, it's the most popular Cosmere fic by kudos! Kaladin Stormblessed and Highprince Adolin are soulmates, it's so sad yet hopeful! Ardent Pai: I bet it doesn't even mention their class differences. Ardent Ellista: No it totally does! And it really gets in the way of them kissing!! Ardent Pai: Well maybe I'll take a look then.

4. The Kholin Family Look at Fanart: Part 1 (Dalinar & Navani)

Jasnah (slamming a large tome onto the table): All right, everyone. I've finished my extensive research into the fanart of our family. Jasnah: Dalinar, according to my findings, people on the internet find you (a) extremely sexy and (b) wish you to be shirtless on the beach. Jasnah: There is also extensive interest in you being strong but vulnerable in the face of Odium, which I believe goes back to point (a), your assumed sexiness. Dalinar: ... Dalinar: I see. Jasnah: Navani, the residents of the internet desperately wish to see you explore women as romantic/sexual options. Navani: ...In general, or specific women? Jasnah: Mostly Ialai and Raboniel, from what I have seen. You can see here, and here. Navani: Sure, makes sense. Dalinar: (Does it??)

5. Sigzil & Lopen Read Fanfic

Sigzil: Bridge Fourgy? Ohhh... oh no... Lopen: Well now you GOTTA read it, gancho! Sigzil: I will burn it is what I will do.

6. Hoid & Design Look at Fanart

Hoid: (huffing and harumphing) Design: Well, I think the art is nice! Hoid: (harumphing and huffing) Design: The colors are spot-on, there's some symmetry... Hoid: (muttering) I've been involved in practically every Cosmere-significant event...I tell stories with colors and magic imagery...I beat up Kelsier that one time... Hoid: But nooooo they only want to draw me in the Mare shirt with mismatching socks and sandals!!! AND TINY RED SHORTS Design: Wow, look at my boobs in this one! They're so round and shiny! Hoid: ...I feel like you are not sympathizing with me here.

7. Rushu & Jasnah read "The Princess and the Captain" by ailvara

Rushu: Your Majesty I looked into the most popular fanfic by hits and discovered it's an ongoing slowburn romance between you and, uh... well... Jasnah: Out with it, Rushu. Rushu: You and Kaladin Stormblessed. Jasnah: Me? And Kaladin?? But he's half my age! And we've done nothing but argue! Rushu (blushing): I think that's part of the appeal, Your Majesty. Jasnah: Give me that. (reading) Well if he said THAT then maybe I wouldn't have... hm... Rushu, cancel my appointments for the next hour, I need to finish this. Rushu: Of course, Your Majesty! (sotto voice) Thank goodness she still doesn't know about the Hoid foot fics...

8. The Kholin Family: Part 2 (Adolin & Renarin)

Jasnah (continuing to leaf through her large book of findings): Adolin, according to my research, the internet thinks that you are a handsome, sweet man who wishes to be with his friends. For example, here. Jasnah: It is mostly you, Shallan, and Kaladin, however you want to read that. Adolin: As...reality? Jasnah: Renarin, if you are not suffering emotionally alongside a stained glass motif, or suffering emotionally as a child alongside Dalinar, then you are with Rlain. Renarin: With him as in...? Jasnah: Yes. Renarin: ... Renarin: I thought we were being fairly subtle! Jasnah: You were not.

9. Moash & Leshwi Read Fanfic

Moash: What are the fics about me like? Leshwi: Well, you either die a violent, horrible death or you make tender love to... Leshwi: ... Leshwi: ...Kaladin Stormblessed? You know him? Moash: Ok so here's the thing

10. Moash & Kaladin Look at Fanart

Moash: Okay...I should definitely get my ears pierced, right? Moash: I mean...look at me. Look at me, Kal! Hot, right? Moash: ...Kal? Kaladin: ... Kaladin: [silently pushing this art toward Moash] Kaladin: There are a lot like this. Moash: What, of you standing? Kaladin: Smiling. Kaladin: People want me to smile, I guess. Moash: ... Moash: Well, I bet you'd smile more if I was always looking hot in earrings, huh? Kaladin: Heh, yeah, probably.

[sanemisstalker]

Homie I don't know if you've considered writing a part 2 for the incel Gyutaro modern! Au scenario cause it legit rewired something in my brain ajskaj 🤒💕- he's like a weird bug that's fun to poke and watch em S Q U I R M ah, I love it.

Like I can see later on y/n has an indirect impact on him even though it's a casual thing- like, telling him his cum taste bitter af and it convinces him to eat better if it means he'll keep getting head (toss in more regular showers in there now that I think about it) . Would also wonder how his sis would react to them hanging out-? 🤔

If it's not in your plans that's alright- either way, it gave me the strength to write for him and I am thankful for the food 🛐

Guess what this post is!!!! I was saving this ask so I could post part 2 with it or whateverrrr. I'm so giggle that so many people are interacting with that post, I didn't expect it to get such good reception!!

Also also, I do plan to write about how this Gyutaro definitely still raised his sister and is a bang up brother in spite of these mentalities he has! I have another ask that wants me to elaborate, and I'm planning on just making a big headcanon thing for him!!

PART ONE <-

CW// FEM READER// AFAB// BREASTED / Dub-con/Non-con (Gyutaro does something sexual under the guise he'll get laid, undiscussed BDSM dynamic)/ Panic Attack/ Vomit (not in a sex way) / Piss (kinda in a sex way)/ Sexism/ Incel mentalities/ Toxic Masculinity / Forced Bisexuality / BDSM dynamics / I say 'skullfuck' at one point / Gyutaro is reffered to as a toilet.

-Incel!Gyutaro's eyes had never even grazed a real dance floor, but there he was, at the big name club you'd dropped the location of 30 minutes ago. He'd hopped on his bike and sped there in what could only be called desperation.

-There wasn't a wait like in the movies. Not a big long line, and they let him in in his baggy jeans and stupid fucking Nietzsche shirt. He hadn't even realized he'd brought his bike helmet in until he was tossing it between his shaking, filthy hands.

-There were so many people. All of them taking their sweet time to gawk at his height and face. This was why he didn't leave the dorm. That and the abhorrent, terminally 2011 music.

-The photo had pissed him off. Bad. He'd come with the intention of a rematch (in your honor or whatever, he's not cringe enough to say that, though) and he planned to leave with you clinging to him like you were supposed to be.

-and obviously you were because there you were, hanging off Tengen Uzui's naturally bulging muscles with those 3 other mindless sluts. Not giving a fuck in the world about him or that skanky photo you sent.

-You were hard to spot in your slut disguise.

-You looked like every other girl there, and that pissed him off even worse, in a way. He had deluded himself into thinking you were good. Into thinking you were different from other females because you knew the bands and the movies, and you agreed when he implied that genetically you were just dumber-

-'Gyutaro!' You'd screech out as you locked eyes with the man. In the dark of the club, with the neon purple strobing over him, he looked almost daunting. With his helmet on one hip, and phone dangling from his other hand, Gyutaro had something similar to a western charm.

-You'd pop off of Tengen, who would only lift his head up to register the man, and then turn back to his girlfriends.

-The whole reason for their fight had been rather trivial, Gyutaro assumed, but, despite his lax appearance, Tengen did everything in his power not to smash the man's own helmet back over his head.

-He feared, along with Makio, Suma, and Hinatsuru, for your safety as you barreled into the man.

-You'd run into them with a new found confidence that night. After leaving Gyutaro in his sorry state, bounding up to the three women was far less intimidating. Almost like you shared a comraderie with them-

-and you had! The three were incredibly nice and immediately ushered you to Tengen where you all began to get a long in a picturesque fashion.

-You looked good. Hanging onto his arm with the other women felt good- You just had to take a photo.

-Gyutaro was going to panic. Tengen Uzui didn't scare him anymore, but that immediate jump from Tengen's arms to his, he didn't know how to satisfy that expectation.

-Of course he was better than Tengen- but on a "purely physical" level, he knew he would never have the stamina or prowess to conquer the bodies of three women at once.

-Especially not when he couldn't even fathom conquering you.

-'Ah, is this who you were talking about?' Tengen asked. You laughed in response, nodding with verve. Your body was beginning to shift against him- fuck-

-'Mhm, Gyutaro's my best friend.' You slurred, and it occurred to Gyutaro then, that you might be slighty inebriated. God, Tengen had an awful effect on you.

-His heart thudded at the words 'best friend' Despite your light and teasing cadence, were you friendzoning him? Would you just fuck any friend you had? Not that you fucked him- but you totally fucked him-

-'Oh?' Tengen sang in that stupid fucking tone that made Gyutaro want to rip off that girly fucking headband he wore. 'Have you slept with him?'

-Makio slapped Tengen's shoulder.

-'No, no- Not yet.' Gyutaro was panicking, now. Yet? Yet? You were planning to fuck hi-

-'Be careful.' Tengen sang. And that should've been the end of his thought, but maybe the drink he had was doing more than he expected, because Tengen couldn't fight the grin nor the words that spilled from his mouth after-

-'Tell him to try and last longer this time.'

-Gyutaro saw red, and blue, and maybe it was because of the weed air or the sex musk permeating past the bar- Maybe it was the anger he had at you for sharing such a thing about him- maybe it was because He'd been holding his breathe and plotting Tengen's downfall, and now he was-

-Who was he kidding, Gyutaro was going to fucking barf. The stress was too much, and his stomach rolled in response. He'd never been exposed to such an environment, or such an embarassment, and all he knew to do was turn away and try to keep it down until he got to the bathroom.

-'That was so mean!' Suma cried out as Gyutaro trudged away, attempt at disguising his mood futile. 'You made him cry!'

-'He literally called you a slut to your face at the start of the semester. What the fuck do you mean, mean?' Makio barked.

-You were in one of the gross stalls, pulling his scraggly black hair away from the rancid bowl. You weren't sure how he ate so much and still stayed so twig thin. He'd been puking for at least ten minutes.

-'I didn't expect you to come here.' You lied, having very much intended for that outcome. 'You think Tengen Uzui remembers every drunken, horny story he gets from a woman?'

-He was mortified. The idea that Tengen specifically knew something so intimate about him made him hear colors. Red colors. He was hearing the club lighting and seething at the red blur of the motion sensor on the toilet-

-The tile felt like splinters.

-'W-Why did you tell him that?' Gyutaro gasped out between spills. The question lacked his usual grit. It sounded genuine and hurt.

-He nodded lamely and went to drop his face onto the porcelain, but your hand swooped down.

-Your palm against his marred face was soothing. Lifting his head up from the toilet bowl, you wiped his mouth off with toilet paper.

-His heart fluttered. What a girlish emotion he was feeling.

-'I'm sorry.' You whispered and only semi meant it. Some of the things he said about women in the past months could've definitely validated such treatment. Some of the comments were bordering on illegal, others on beyond morally questionable.

-'It's okay.' He slurred, moving away from your hand to try and stop that flutter. You were quick to find his scar again, and, with hesitance losing to need, he rubbed against your palm.

-Cat. The word shot through your head and then retreated. No, no. A mangy cat. A cat with mange. Rabies, maybe even.

-'I wasn't crying or any-' as he began to speak, you pulled a small bottle of mouth wash out from your bag.

-'Tip your head back.' Gyutaro cut off his sentence and did as you said. The burn of the wash was painful. As he went to spit it out, you pressed a finger to his lips.

-'You get a gift if you can keep it in for the full minute.'

-It hurt. Gyutaro can't remember the last time he brushed his teeth, but the burn in his gums said he should do it more. He managed, though, and you followed through by pulling a tooth brush from your bag.

-Gyutaro had seen this plot before, in a hentai, probably, but he'd always imagined himself probing some innocent sweet trad girl's mouth with a tooth brush. Not being probed.

-You scrubbed plague off his teeth with precise intensity. His gums bled, and he whined. His jaw would occasionally stutter, and he'd bite down with enough force that you feared for your toothbrush.

-Another pass at the mouth wash and Gyutaro stared up at you, puffy lipped and teary eyed. You hadn't necessarily been gentle, nor had you avoided his gag reflex, but you leaned down to Gyutaro.

-His natural huffiness now had a pleasant bubblegum scent.

-When you pulled the vibrator from your pussy, Gyutaro nearly puked again. He hadn't noticed it in your sneaky photo, so seeing you hike your leg up on the toilet seat and pluck it from your insides made him see stars.

-Had you had that in the entire time? Had you told the other girls? Had you told Tengen?

-You dropped the vibrator into his lap. Not in his pants, not intentionally near his dick- on his lap. Gyutaro had taken on an all too natural kneeling position, and you dropped the vibe between the small gap of his thighs.

-Dull buzzing bounced up his thighs, vibratons too far to feel- And then you were pressing your cunt against his face, and he was taking in the scent of your pubes-

-He had been told that eating a woman out was a sign of submission. Got told it'd be gross, and to only do it when the situation was dire. And a situation with a female should never become dire- Having someone's genitals forced in his face like this-

-Gyutaro loved the smell of your pussy. The taste. His hands took to your thighs immediately, one slipping back to find the meat of your ass and bury his fingers in it.

-It would surprise you, how right he looked snug between your thighs. How his eyes fluttered back when he forgot he wasn't really supposed to be into this kind of thing.

-You could remember all of the things he said about vaginas. It often left you contemplating whether or not he found women attractive to begin with, but with his tongue rolling so naturally against your clit, you couldn't question it.

-He was made for this, both of you figured. Your warmth against his palate was ball tightening. He immediately took to it. You'd never seen such enthusiasm and love shown to your cunt.

-'Fuckkkkkk-' He'd moan, but with his tongue flat against you it came out in drool. His spit spilled onto his jean clad thighs, uncaring about anything other than eating you out.

-With his back against the toilet, and your hands gripping his hair, if you saw it from the back, it'd look like you were skullfucking the man. The thought made Gyutaro's already raging hard on twitch-

-And that's exactly how Tengen saw it when he opened the stall.

-'Oh?' He said, and you felt Gyutaro's grip tighten around your thighs. Today was just humiliation after humiliation, wasn't it? He knew by the stupid sing-song tone of the voice exactly who'd invaded his time with you.

-Black pulsed the corners of his vision.

-'Ah, Tengen-' You tried to keep your voice steady- not willing to let yourself be intimidated by a man his size in such a situation. Not infront of Gyutaro. He didn't need real life experience to back up forum rumors.

-'Can I use this toilet?' He nodded down to Gyutaro, and you looked down to the man between your thighs, a bit shocked by the ask.

- Gyutaro would pull off your cunt fast, wide eyed and all teeth.

-'What the fuck did you just s-' You lodged your fingers down his throat, Gyutaro gagging hurtfully against them. His eyes rolled back. He didn't know why having his mouth fucked with felt so good. It'd never felt this good when he was alone-

-'When I cum, yeah.' And Gyutaro was back on your pussy, a sudden fear lighting his movements. You wouldn't really let Tengen do that to him, right?

-Why was he depending on you, a woman, to prevent that? He should just get up and kick his ass- Tengen would have an advan...advantage.... an-

-Fuck your pussy was mind numbing. Fuck whatever Tengen wanted to do to him. He needed that juice.

-Gyutaro chased your orgasm. You were only slightly dissapointed he didn't cum with you- didn't show Tengen how good he could be. A part of you wanted to impress Tengen- to show off a little bit. Show what you tamed. Even if that taming was still very early in the works-

-When you came, Gyutaro smiled wide against your pussy. You pulled back with shaking legs and his head in your hands and he looked at you like Tengen wasn't pulling his cock from his boxers just centimeters away.

-'Just want your pussy, I need your pussy-' He slurred while you starred down at him.

-'If you drink it, I'll let you fuck me-' His ears would begin ringing. Shocked by his own actions, Gyutaro found his jaw unhinged, taking Tengen's flaccid cock down his throat.

-Maybe it was easier for him to accept because Gyutaro never dealt with penis envy. The two men were surprisingly matched. How unfortunate. You really wanted to see how Gyutaro would react to a cock that much bigger-

-Tengen took advantage of the willing hole, rocking his hips a bit much to Gyutaro's anger.

-'If you bite me, I'll drown you. Don't want to die with your head in a toilet, eh, Shabana?' Tengen taunted, sensing the upset from his thighs.

-You watched as Gyutaro's adam apple surged, and Tengen's head dropped back in relief. It was more than Gyutaro could take, obviously, because it began spilling from the corners of his mouth and onto his Neitzsche shirt.

-Gyutaro's face burnt red, and he reeked like piss. Tengen gave the other man's face a light, almost appreciative slap.

-As Tengen pulled out, a rush of piss came spilling onto the floor. He wasn't done though, a guiding hand locking around Gyutaro's jaw to tip his head up. The trickle was backed by the music blurring outside.

-His flow came to a stop, and he carefully shut Gyutaro's mouth. Gyutaro looked over at you with tired eyes.

-You nodded, and he swallowed.

-'Atta boy.'

-With Tengen's exit, you looked down at Gyutaro, dripping and still woefully hard. You pulled his messy hair back into a ponytail once more.

-'oh honey... when did I say you'd be fucking me tonight?'

-'Do I- Do I get to fuck you now?' He'd croak, trying to ignore the completely beer ridden piss on his lips. You looked at him so pathetically. It made his cock ache even worse than it already did.

-He could tell he wasn't going to get what he wanted before you even opened your mouth.

[prettyboykatsuki]

fuck your inhibition. | k. bakugou

♢ tags ; very big age gaps (19 years), questionable ethics, ex deliquent / runaway reader (22), fighting / violence, brief mentions of living on the streets, retired pro-hero bakugou (41), emotionally charged sex, afab + masc!reader, top!reader, bottom bakugou, reader is really rough around the edges, backstory for reader, arguing, oral (both receiving),rimming (m!recieving), strap-ons (not a dom thing. no particular power dynamics), prone-bone, dirty talk, size difference (reader is smaller but no specifics), happy endings sort of.

no explicitly gendered terms for reader. usage of words like clit / cunt for readers body parts. reader is implied bisexual.

(also while this fic is certainly intended to be read as masc., it can just as easily be read as completely gn.)

♢ wc ; 10.2k (two days. this is so alarming)

♢ a/n ; happy birthday to my favorite guy. sorry in advance. this fic is so disgustingly self-indulgent. str8 self-inserty ngl. i simply dont want to look at it djskfgdf. this fic is pretty tame tho age gap aside. been a while since ive written for him. title is from "lemme know" by vince staples

♢ synopsis ; who knew that the boudoir pictures you've been getting off too your whole life would look so much better in person?

You’re not convinced there’s any way to get used to getting your lights knocked out. 

At this point, your fighting prowess is good enough that you can dodge swings from even heavy handed opponents. Just agile enough to bob and weave. Your reflexes are good too, from years of getting into with cops or otherwise. So getting absolutely dusted in a single, swift motion is not a frequent occurrence. 

That’s why you are sorely caught off guard when it happens to you in the back of an alleyway, tucked into a corner of Osaka—a long ways from home.

You were fucked from the minute you stepped foot off the train; you knew that instinctively. You haven’t been back in years and it’s not like you’re here for leisure. And sure, you took the job knowing there was some possibility you’d run into some old foes but shit. They couldn’t’ve waited till the week was over? 

3 days in and your life as a runaway comes back to bite you in the ass. Worse, they catch in front of the very storefront you were  working up the nerve to visit at the end of the week. If that old man catches you 1. making a ruckus in front of his cherished bakery and 2. fighting like those “worthless punks” that he openly detests, he’s definitely gonna be on your ass.

It’s amidst conflict, you decide to take the beating and wait it out. Hopefully, whatever higher power is looking over you will let you get out without busting your lip. 

But fuck, this last hit is leaving you worse for wear. You blink your eyes open and you’re still surrounded by him and his bunch of goons. What was this dudes name again…? Aka…Aka-something, you think. Without warning, you get another punch, a clean left-hook  - this time to your side. You cough at the sensation. 

Ah, life is so unfair to you. 

He grabs you by the front of your collar, dragging you upwards until you’re nose to nose. This fuckers breath is hot. Something warm slips down your nose, a rivulet of blood over your lips. You grunt. 

“I should’ve beat the shit out of you the first time.” 

You blink slowly as you regain your vision and sense. Despite many transgressions and altercations, your time in Osaka as a fugitive is notable. This bunch of fiends are a somewhat half-assed motorbike gang. It’s an old story. You stole and ruined  not one, not two, but four of their bikes total. In your defense you were a young kid scrounging for change - hotwiring and deconstructing for parts was always  pretty profitable. And stealing flashy bikes was a hell of a lot easier than scratching up your knees in the scrap yard. 

Ah, there was that other thing too. Why you’re pretty sure this guy has held such a grudge against you for god knows how long. Irritable with a bad sense of self-preservation, you give up on behaving well. 

“Yeah? No need to sulk now, right?” You grin, hands practically itching to throw him onto the ground. A familiar sense of adrenaline burns in your stomach. You should just hit him, but you don’t - instead opting to aim where you know it’s gonna piss him off most “How’s your little sister by the way?” 

Red flashes in his eyes, nose puffed like a bull. Despite your self-satisfaction, you close your eyes and pray to god he doesn’t actually kill you. There’s still some ass you have to tap before you die and it’d be a real shame to die only inches away. You cover your face when his fist winds up. Riling him up was probably a bad move.

Before you get your lights punched out forreal, an angel comes to rescue you. 

“Oi, you fuckin’ punks—go take this shit somewhere else or I’m gonna singe every last goddamn hair on your head.”

You smile, almost drunk on the adrenaline. An angel, indeed. A cursing, blonde, abrasive angel. 

“Oh, shit—we gotta get outta here. That dude Dynamight doesn’t fuck around”

Before you know it, said group of miscreants disperses like a swarm of flies. You find yourself stumbling back against a bunch of crates, back hitting them and sliding down, snagging in your work clothes. The leader says something about “not being finished with you yet,” but you don’t catch it with how your ears are ringing in your skull.

You rub your eyes and groan, seeing double. When you open them again, your favorite blonde old man is standing in front of you. Arms crossed over his chest, sporting that signature glare you’re so fond of. 

Your head is throbbing. Fuck it hurts. 

You only manage one sentence before promptly blacking out. 

“Did I die and go to heaven?”

— 

You wake up in a familiar bed. 

A bed you spent a lot of time resting in when you were out at on the streets here, something like four  years ago now. The memories of the time aren’t entirely pleasant - being a homeless runaway was pretty shit. But meeting your life long hero (and getting your rocks off in his bed) are quite fond regardless. You’re surrounded by nice, white linen sheets that you’re pretty sure cost more than you make in a month. He’s not really much of a flashy character despite his career, but he does have an eye for the finer things. 

You haven’t been back here in a while. Since moving to a different prefecture, you haven’t had any good reason to come see him. This week was a good excuse for just that. Didn’t exactly plan on it happening like this, but you can’t really win 'em all. You’d consider being back here a win on your part regardless. 

The fact that you’re here instead of molding in the pouring rain means that he dragged you up there by himself. A fact you try not to put too much stock into, because he’s still a pro even if he’s retired. What makes it hard not to feel giddy about it is the fact you’re all cleaned up. Bandaged wounds and all, he even took off your shoes. Jeez, he’s gonna kill you one of these days acting so cute. 

You turn to lay on your back, reaching your hand to the ceiling and making a fist. Your knuckles are still pretty bruised up but it’s clear he took some time to check over them. You drop your hand down, squeezing a fist over your chest and sighing. You roll over again. 

“Still giving me so many mixed signals.” You say, half in jest, trying not to be too affected by it “Ah, fuck, this is bad. Gonna end up doing something weird just like old times.” 

Before you commit another act of degeneracy in the bed of your long time crush and childhood hero, you sit up with your legs over the edge. He took your pants off too, a pair of boxers hung low on your hips. Your back is fucking killing you. 

You stand to your feet, scratching the back of your neck as you turn to examine yourself in the mirror. You pull your tank up over your side, a bruise the size of a melon developing on you. It goes from just under your chest all the way down to above your waist. You press your finger to it and wince at the sensation of pain, dull but throbbing so deep in your nerves you can’t help but feel it. 

You examine the rest of you, turning to either side. Work tomorrow is gonna fucking blow, but considering you don’t have any broken ribs - you think it’s not the worst it could be. No stitches either, so a win overall. If the rest of the week passed by silently that’d  be perfect. 

You look around the room for your things. They’re in a neat chair in the corner of the room.  Bakugou’s cat is over there too, asleep on your uniform. You can hear something faint from downstairs, the sound of a T.V. playing. You should drop down there since you’re awake  but you’re reluctant. You wonder if he’ll chase you out since you’re up. If he still has as much of a soft spot for you as he used to, it couldn’t hurt to test your luck. 

You open up the bedroom door and shut it quietly before padding down stairs. 

You end up finding him where you’d expect him.  He’s in the kitchen with an apron on, a fitted gray shirt with a piping bag in hand.

 He looks older every time you see him. His hair isn’t all gray yet but the platinum is starting to turn brilliant white. There’s lines in his face that weren’t always there, even with the scars and fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He’s still as jacked as he used to be, but it’s softened up. Mostly it’s his personality, you find, to be mellow. Only someone with patience could take up such a tedious hobby after an entire life out in the field - killing baddies and chasing thugs and whatever other shit hero’s do. 

It’s kind of ridiculous that he’s piping delicate little designs onto some pastries, but unfortunately for you it only adds to his charm. You lean against the wall coming into the kitchen, in the frame. Half-dressed with your lips quirked up in a coy smile. 

“Whatcha makin’ old man?” 

“Don’t break my concentration you noisy brat,” He says straightforwardly “Sit down and shut up.” 

“So cranky,” You muse,  but ultimately comply, sitting at a chair on the kitchen island. Looks like he’s on his last round of whatever he’s making. 

You get by on staring at him. It’s pretty typical for you even now. Sitting here in front of him doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected, which is worth something. When he’s finally finished, he puts the piping bag on the counter and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. 

“Permission to speak, sarge?” You ask, sarcastically. He frowns at you. 

“Not granted.” 

“Cold as ever huh,” You say, leaning your elbow on the counter - palm on your cheek “Thought distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder?” 

“That only counts if there’s fondness in the first place.” He says with ease. This time you scoff at him, but he cuts you off before you get a chance to reply “You wake up with any pain?” 

“Worry about yourself, you old bastard,” You say impudently. You see the corners of his lips twitch as he stares at you “‘m fine. Got a nasty bruise on my side but my ribs aren’t broken. Work tomorrow is gonna suck.” 

“That why you’re back here?” 

“For about a week, yeah.” 

“Confidential?” 

You shake your head and lean back. 

“Nah. Bodyguarding some rich dude’s kid. Birthday tomorrow. Spent the first two days being a lousy maid but the pay is good so I can’t complain.” 

“Shit. The party is tomorrow? I have an order for tomorrow.” 

“Guess you’re not senile yet, old man.” 

“Fuck off,” Bakugou says, not bothering to hide to his expression “How old’s the kid?

“A little younger than me I’d guess. 19 or so.” 

“Isn’t this a good opportunity to get laid?” He suggests like he’s purposefully trying to irritate you. He already knows how you feel. Why he insists on pretending is beyond you but it never fucking fails to piss you off. 

You shoot him a glare. 

“Nevermind. You’re definitely senile. Might wanna try some puzzle games to keep your shit in tact before you start peeing in public and buying ten pairs of the same pants.” 

“You’re still just as mouthy as I remember.” 

“Learned from the best.” 

A comfortable silence settles as a weird feeling overtakes you. Fuck, you’re still pining your youth away after all this time. Maybe getting laid would fix some of your issues, but no one is gonna hold a candle to having the real thing. You rub your temple in preemptive apprehension. Bakugou starts working on cleaning up the kitchen, and you resign yourself to thinking about what you’re gonna do. 

It catches you off-guard when he talks to you first. 

“Earlier,” He says, opening up the fridge to rearrange it “Why weren’t you fighting back?” 

You don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry hearing him ask. You don’t feel like softening the blow with your usual shit, so you give it to him straight. 

“It doesn’t suit a tactical genius to play dumb, old man.” 

He stiffens, then sighs. 

“Still hung up on that, huh.” 

Oh now you’re gonna get pissed. 

“Don’t.” You warn, low and indifferent. He sighs, sliding a tray into the fridge and “Don’t piss me off, alright?” 

“Hey. You shitty punk. When are you gonna get it through your thick skull I’m doing this for your fucking sake? Stop—”

“Next time, just leave me in the rain.” You seethe, venom in your voice, making you numb and agitated. He stops, breath hitching “I don’t give a shit if you’re a retired  hero. I’m serious. Leave me out in the alley next time if you’re gonna pull the mentor act again..”

Man this sucks. 

Not like you were expecting some heart warming love story out of a guy like him but still. You didn’t think he wouldn’t budge at all. You can feel yourself getting angry just thinking about it. It might’ve been better not to come. Mentor or not, his whole dismissal never fails to annoy you to your core. You knew that before the week started he might be like this. Maybe if shit went your way - you could’ve had a regular reunion. But now, he just had to see you getting beat up on purpose and he just had to fucking ask about it. 

Seriously, where’s his decorum? Prick. 

“Kid.” 

“Don’t—I needa get outta here. I shouldn’tve—fuck, this blows.”

You stand to your feet before you have a chance to look back. You feel kind of pathetic running away again but it’s still the preferable option to having this fight a second time. It’s something you’re just too sensitive about to deal with head on. Getting rejected twice by the guy you’ve been in love with since you were nineteen is bound to fuck you up abs you don’t have it in you not to drink yourself into a fit. 

So you’re practically running up the stairs, but you can hear him calling behind you. You go into the bedroom to get your things and Bakugou follows you into it predictably, shutting the door.  You turn around to him, annoyed. 

“Get outta my way.” 

“No. Not while you’re all pissy. Gonna get yourself hit by a car.” 

“What’d I just say about cooling it with the mentor act, man?” 

“It’s not a fuckin’—it’s not an act.” He says, with a sigh that almost makes you feel bad, “I haven’t seen you in two years.” 

“Two years is nothing. Old age is making you soft,” You scoff, arms crossed over your chest “But I don’t need your sympathy. My feelings haven’t changed.” 

“Kid.” 

“I’m not a kid anymore, alright? Cleaned my act up, got a job and a license and a place. Haven’t slept in a cell in two years. Been off the streets that whole time just like you told me to do.  The least you could do is take me seriously.” 

“I didn’t want you to do that shit for me. I wanted you to do it for you.” 

“Too bad,” You reply back almost immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose “Save your lecture for the next injured bird you raise up and leave me out of it.” 

“I’m trying to put you on the right path, you ungrateful little jackass. Don’t act like—“

“Spare me the goddamn lecture.” 

There’s a quiet silence befalls the both of you. Shit is going nowhere fast and you both know it, Bakugou as much as you do. Memories of your last argument come back to you almost instantly. 

After you turned eighteen, you were run out of the orphanage you’d spent part of your adolescence at. It’s a pretty regular sob story and you’re quite the sad sap. A dead mom in Mustafu and an absent father. You had a strong quirk, and hell maybe if you grew up different - you could’ve been a hero. 

Shit didn’t  work out that way, so at 11 you were thrown to the wolves. It’s not a fun time to look back on and you figure there’s no use thinking about the past. You did whatever you had to to survive which mostly meant being in and out of orphanages and running away whenever the next worthless schmuck tried to take advantage of you. You always got away by the skin of your teeth, and made money doing whatever you could. If it put food on the table, you’d have probably done it at least once.

It’s something of a cliche, but Dynamight was your idol. You liked that he wasn’t like other heroes. He was crass and hardcore and liked to talk shit. He was cool. You spent a lot of time hanging around T.V. stores watching him through the glass, watching interviews on your first hand-me-down phone. Even though he didn’t really have the tragic backstory, you always thought he was courageous and honest. 

A celebrity crush and idol combined, you stole more of his pin-up magazines than you’re entirely comfortable with. A lot of them you still own, shoved into the back of your closet. 

Once you’d turned 18, your life of petty crime had brought you all the way down to Osaka. It was also the worst year of your life. Social agencies seem to get off on tossing kids into the streets as soon as they can and with a criminal record like yours, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do. 

You spent the first 6 months knee deep in all sorts of shit. That’s when you ran into that biker gang for the first time. You hung around bars and slept with strangers for a place to sleep. A lot of bad shit happened and it wasn’t getting any easier. 

It was a cold, rainy day when you met Dynamight for the first time. The worst day of your life, more accurately. You got mugged and lost your job all in the same few hours and you were pretty sure god himself was spitting at your face. 

But it wasn’t all bad. Cheesy as it sounds, meeting your hero was worth the trouble. 

He was different off camera. That was the first thing you thought when you talked to him. He had a softer way of speaking and he was weirdly perceptive. He didn’t talk much, either - at least not at first. You spent a lot of time in comfortable silence. The first time, you didn’t do much more than share a meal. He asked you about your life. He gave you money for a hotel too. The only thing you could think to do was ask when you could see him again. 

He was 36 at the time. Hadn’t retired yet, either. 

That was the beginning of your long relationship. To this day, you don’t know why he decided to involve himself with you. It’s a mystery you’ve yet to get answers for and maybe you never will. Sure he was a hero, but you’re sure he’s seen a lot worse. Why take pity on you in particular? Whenever you ask him about it, he usually just scoffs. Sometimes he’ll tell you that you reminded him of someone. Who that person could be is lost on you even now.

It was a gradual relationship. You were young and persistent, but he never turned you away either. Sure he’d been a good influence, but stopping a life of crime wasn’t easy. You got arrested for some months after meeting. Bakugou took you in when you were 19 and homeless - let you stay with him. He retired at 37, opening up a bakery in Osaka. The place you’re staying in now is just over it. The same one you spent two years of your life falling in love with the old bastard. 

It was hard not too. You’d admired him for a long time, and he managed to supercede your low expectations. It wasn’t the first time you fell in love but it was definitely the strongest sensation. You tried to ignore it for a while but that didn’t work out for shit either. 

You confessed to him on your 20th birthday. Made a whole big deal with flowers and candles and shit. And again - it’s not like you were expecting romance out of the motherfucker. A flat-out rejection would’ve sufficed. 

But…that wasn’t what you got either. 

The whole reason for your fight wasn’t just because he didn’t have feelings for you. He made it a whole big fucking deal trying to tell you about your feelings. That you needed to get your shit together and grow up and that it was a phase that you’d grow out of. That he “really cares about you, kid” and that he’s just trying to do what was right by you as an adult. 

(“You’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m like either. Been through some tough shit and you latched onto me, alright? So don’t go wastin’ your time.”) 

You don’t really give a fuck about how old he is or about his status. None of it matters to you in the slightest. What was pissing you off all that time was him not taking you seriously after everything you’d been through together. Trying to tell you would fucking grow out of it and that it was a waste. You got into an argument after that, and like you’ve been doing your whole life - you ran away. Back to Shizuoka where you started to get your life together. 

Hit the books and studied your ass off, graduating late from a night school and then picking up a vocational school to fall back on. Some old connections got you a job in security and you bounced from place to place in the meanwhile. You even got your license and bought a beat-up cruiser that you fix-up when you have the chance. 

You grew up so to speak. You came back here trying to prove that. Being dismissed so fucking quickly makes you feel rage beyond reason so you’re trying to step back. Seriously, two fucking years and nothing. Not even a pity “I’m proud of you.” 

“Just admit it,” You sneer, inching closer to him “It’s not about any of that shit, is it?”

He widens his eyes as you stalk towards him.

“The fuck are you—“

“Don’t play stupid. You feel guilty, right? Feel all wound up cause you know it’s not nothing. This isn’t nothing”

This time he goes silent. Fucking bullseye.

“You thought I forgot? How you kissed me all tipsy? Thought I didn’t notice you looking?”

Oh it feels good to let it all out. He shrinks, this time unable to say anything. You both know it’s true. 

“Look—“ He puts hands on your shoulders as you back him into the wall “You’re too fucking young for all this. And about me, you don’t know—”

You lean into him, face inches apart. You already know what he’s gonna tell you, almost word for word. Trying to maintain some innocence you hardly have anything left of. 

“You sure? I heard you through those walls plenty of times. You take dick like a champ.” 

“Shut the hell up. This is for your own good, we can’t do this.”

You can hardly believe he’s still being like this. 

“I used to know you were home. When I brought people over,” You whisper low against his skin. His eyes widen “You heard me too, I’m sure. So, be honest Mr. Dynamight, you think I can’t give you what you want or are you too afraid to find out?”

“You’re such a fucking punk.” He grits out. Still not denying your words. 

“That’s right,” You muse, words heated and heavy “I’m a worthless street punk trying to fuck the old man upstairs ‘cause I don’t know any better.” 

It’s not the first time you’ve kissed Bakugou in your life. The first time was when you came over to his place tipsy. In front of all the other pro-heros you had admired so much. It’s different this time. Not only are you both shockingly sober, there’s an aggression in it that wouldn’t be there before. No matter how begrudging he acts, he’s still kissing you back just as hard as you’d expect him too. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, arms wrapped around your neck. Fuck he’s still so huge. How much does he work out to still be this jacked?

You can’t even imagine how that’s gonna look when you finally get to fuck him. Shit, just thinking about it sends electricity through your spine. You groan a little into his mouth, your hands tucked on his nape and tugging at the fine hairs. You push your incisors into his lower lip and tug, pulling away just slightly to intake how fucking flushed he is.

 He looks like a pornstar,

You pull away, hand cupping his jaw and forcing his mouth open. You’re gonna lose it if you stare too long. 

“You’re so fucking sexy.” 

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” He mumbles. You laugh lightly at him. 

“Your cocky attitude is pretty sexy too,” You hum, amused. You kiss him one more time, hands reaching for the thickest part of his waist. He’s built like a trunk, but his reactions are almost girlish. The contrast is making you twitch. 

“Can’t say the same for you.” He spits. Your grin splits your face as you pull away from him, teeth nipping at his jaw. You can feel the scruff of his skin, unshaved as you let your tongue travel over it. 

“Aw, what? You don’t think I’m sexy.” You nudge a knee between his legs feeling the half-hard outline of his cock. You shudder “You sure about that?” 

“What the hell are they feeding brats like you?” 

“Liquor and cigarettes.” 

“Since when do you smoke?” 

“Helps me relax after work,” You whisper against the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the lobe before “I get pretty stressed out. Sure you know something about that.” 

“Hngh, fuck. Fuck you.” 

“Do you even know how? Not like that thing gets much use, huh?” 

You reach down to cup his cock through his jeans, hard against the palm of your hand. He pushes his hips up slightly, sharpened glare. He pants. 

“You sound, shit, so fucking sure.” 

“I am sure. I’m looking to fuck you, not the other way around. Not sure how that’s gonna work since I don’t got my stuff on me.” 

You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say. This whole thing is feeling like a fever dream you can’t wake up out of. Maybe he’ll give you a suggestion on what else to do.. But instead of that, a blush crawls onto his face. It leaves you floored. He looks away from you. 

“...Your shits still where you left it.” 

It takes you a second to register what he means. When you do, you can feel your brows hit your fucking hairline. There’s no way he’s saying what you think he is. 

“You’re shitting me.” 

“Shut the fuck up. I thought you’d come to pick it back up but you never did, and I went to go move it into some boxes. I didn’t have any reason to toss it.” 

A thought crosses into your mind. 

“Hey. Old man. Where is it?” 

He stares at you. You grasp onto him firmer, making him gasp. You can feel how heavy his cock is in your hands, rubbing it through the cloth of his sweats. You whisper harsh into his ears. 

“If I open your goddamn drawer right now, tell me, am I gonna find my old strap in it? Clean and getting use? You been fucking yourself with the thing I used to lay dick with?” 

When he doesn’t answer, pure glee ignites in you. He can’t answer, apparently. But his face is a harsh, permanent red now and his cock is painfully hard. You want to rail him into the fucking floor just for that. You wouldn’t make up some shit like that in your wildest dreams, so the fact that he’s not denying it makes your insides feel like they’re melting. You rub yourself against him, feeling how slick and hard your clit is just thinking about it. 

“Go lay down.” 

“Are you telling me what to do?” 

You grab his ass as hard as you can before landing a hit on it that makes him nearly topple over. Even though he’s bigger than you in more ways than one, he reacts like that. His anger only lasts so long before it morphs into want. 

“Of course I am. And you’re gonna listen.” 

“What makes you so sure about that, huh? You think you can satisfy me?” 

“You think you’re gonna intimidate me into backing down? After knowing you fuck your tight little ass to the thought of me? Fat chance.” 

“I didn’t say anything like that.” 

You laugh “You implied it. Now go lay down. Where’s your lube?” 

He frowns at you. 

“In the same drawer.” 

You give him a knowing grin to which he shoves your face away. Ultimately though he listens to you, lying and making himself comfortable in the sheet as you grab whatevers in his little sex drawer. He wasn’t kidding about the strap, the lube seated next to it. You grab both quickly and join him, hovering over him. 

You opt not to talk, slowing your pace to appreciate the view. You think he’s says something. Asks about what you’re doing and why - but you tune the words out as you run your hands over the curves of his body. He’s a wall of fucking muscle, his arms especially with a torso just tight enough for you to grab. The fabric of his shirt doesn’t leave much for imagination, but you’re still overwhelmed as you pull it up over his waist, his chest, his arms. The fabric comes loose and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’ve got plenty of porn mags in your back pocket and even more boudoir shoots from him that you’ve stared at for hours. 

But seeing it in person is completely different. You can see the rise and fall of his chest - the raised skin of a scar and plenty of over scratches and wounds. Fuck, he is so sexy and you are so drunk on lust you almost feel sick. 

“Somethin’ catch your eye?” 

His voice draws you out of the trance you're in, a lazy smirk spread on his face. You laugh. 

“I get why you’re such a show-off,” This time you lean forward to kiss him - a hand wrapped around his throat, spare going to grab his chest. His tits are soft, they look like hard muscle and sinew but the fat is squished in your palms to perfectly for that“Fuck.” 

“You’re acting like a horny teenager.” He says flatly.  

“Been thinking about fucking you that long, so I guess so.” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Why’re you so shocked?” You make work kissing down his neck slowly, down his chest, one tweaking his nipple while your mouth makes work on the other one He swears above you, another wave of heat pulsing in your body “Don’t you hear shit like that all the time?” 

“Shit that feels—I didn’t think you were, hngh—serious.” 

“Obviously not. I still have all your slutty ass photos in my apartment somewhere.” 

He pants. Makes the prettiest fucking sounds for you as you grope and squeeze and touch his body. You bite, hard, into his tits leaving a red mark of teeth that makes him shudder. You need to do it all over again. 

“Haah, fuck. What the fuck?” 

“You’re way sexier in person if that’s worth anything,” You groan, a shudder passing through you “Like way sexier.” 

He looks like he wants to say something to you but the words die in his mouth. You laugh as you peer over him. His reactions are fucking adorable. Face is hot with a flush, watery eyes. Pretty. As much he’s rugged and strong and downright handsome, he is annoyingly fucking pretty. Having him underneath you is making all the power go to your head. Nothing feels more appealing to you right now than the idea of wrecking him completely. 

You kiss down his body until you’re at his waist, taking his pants off unceremoniously. You have half a mind to rip them but you’re sure they’re expensive. He lifts his legs for you anyways, leaving a tight pair of boxers that leave nothing for the imagination at all. 

“What the fuck,” You mumble, getting face to face with it. You pull the boxers off slowly, kissing his hip as you do. His cock pops out slowly as you pull it down. What an asshole. His dick is impossibly big too. A tuft of well trimmed blonde hairs sit neat at the base and the tip is a harsh red. There’s a little drop of pre-cum dribbling down the shaft that makes your brain feel fuzzy. It’s veiny too, tight balls sitting net at the base. 

Another shiver wracks through you, as you reach your hand out to touch it tentatively. He groans sharply. You stick your tongue out, licking up from base to tip. He tastes of salt and skin, but it isn’t bad. You let your tongue lick at the slit, elated looking at him squirm underneath you. 

“Nice dick.” You say back plainly. He snorts. 

“Fuck off.” 

‘’m serious,” You add, letting your eyes lid to look more serious “I don’t blow just anyone.” 

You open your mouth wide, pulling lips over teeth as you ease the tip slowly. It’s hot. Hard as steel and intrusive against your tongue, you can feel it throb. Pulsing relentlessly, you lower yourself onto it slowly - taking as much in as you can. It’s difficult and messy, tongue out to cover as much as you can. You suction your mouth slowly, hollowing your cheeks. There’s something that feels so good about having him in your mouth, something even better about watching the faces of pleasure he makes above you. 

You hum in appreciation and the vibrations prove to be too much as he nearly thrusts his dick into your throat. You brace yourself for it happening again - setting an even pace. He looks good like that, drowned in pleasure and unsure of what to do with himself. You wonder if it’s been a while since he’s acting so fucking cute about it. You assume as much. 

What he said before, you wonder if he was picturing it. If he felt guilty about it. The idea of him jerking off in shame over the thought of his dick in your mouth makes your spine tingle. You cup his balls in your hand, squeezing gently as you get into a steady rhythm. You feel him above you trying to hold it all in, the muscles in his abdomen tightening each time you manage to get down further. It’s hard to breathe, the back of your throat feels narrow. Your skin is on fire. 

“Fuck, fuck—where’d you learn how to—fuck!” 

You feel him getting ready to cum, so you pull off swiftly. A delicious, needy whine comes out of his throat that leaves you mesmerized. 

“What the hell?” He mumbles, heaving. You laugh. 

“Hey,” You hum, lifting his hips until you can see his hole - pink and twitching “Every had someone eat your ass?” 

“Are you offering?” 

“Yeah.” You say back, kissing the insides of his thighs, gripping the muscle “I wanna know if it feels good for you.” 

For whatever reason, this statement in particular makes his skin tinge pink. You hold back a laugh internally. 

“So fucking weird.” 

“Is that a no?” 

“Do whatever you want.” 

You chuckle at that. You sink your teeth into him again, this time working on the build up. His muscles give tension to your incessant biting, hard bone against muscle as you mark up his thick thighs. His ass is nice like you’d expect, tight and muscular. You work your way towards his hole slowly, thumb circling the tight ring of muscle first to gauge his reaction. He shudders, making you hold back a laugh.

“Kinda sensitive,” You say amused. You can feel him glaring without having to look “You can’t cum without it now, right?” 

You’re mostly saying it in jest but the prolonged silence leaves you at a loss for words. Your eyes snap up at him, watching him huff and puff in embarrassment. Heat rolls through your body. 

“It’s not like I fucking can’t ever, alright?” 

“You’re too cute for your own good.” 

“Don’t fucking call me cute you shitty little brat.” 

“But you’re acting kinda adorable, old man,” You say slyly. You stick your tongue out, licking a long stripe against him. He shakes “Blushing up a fucking storm. Been a while?” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, so it’s just ‘cause it’s me then?” 

He looks like a fucking cherry. You laugh. 

“To think you were so against it. How’d you hide your expressions that long? Did it help you to masturbate to the thought of me fucking you?” 

“Would you shut up?” 

“I don’t feel like it.” 

Before he can scold you any more, you let your tongue slip against the exposed rim. The reaction is tentative at first, slow licks trying to gauge if this is something he’s even into. You do it again and again, burying yourself deep. He makes a noise that you recognize to be a muffled moan. You groan in appreciation, repeating the action - letting yourself dip into the tightness of it. You can feel the muscles of his body go taut as you grip him - hands over the tops of his thighs. The action is more shameless the longer you let yourself indulge.

You’ll have to fuck him open anyways before you actually get on top. You think doing this much will make everything easier. Mostly you’re doing it because you like seeing him embarrassed. The gap in appearance vs expression never gets old. Seeing like this repeatedly proves to be novel and fuck knows if he’s gonna let you do it again any time soon. You’re more than determined to squeeze out every last ounce of his pride. 

You want to see everything. 

And frankly, pleasuring him like this is driving you all kinds of crazy. Not like you’ve ever been a selfish lover. Always aiming to please or whatever. But he’s got such a raw fucking sex appeal looking the way he does it’s making you drip. You’re pretty damn sure you’ve soaked through everything you have on and you’re not sure how much longer you’re gonna make it without touching yourself. 

It’s all material you’re committing to memory, either way. If anyone saw him like this, you’re pretty sure they’d fall head over heels just like you. It’s hard not to give him everything he’s ever wanted Not to want to fuck him within an inch of his life, just to see his big muscular frame curl in on itself. He’d look so good all messed up, all knotted with pleasure. 

You can feel it again this time, another wave of desire that makes his cock twitch. You wrap your finger around the shaft, holding it around his balls so he doesn’t cum without asking you. He lets out a noise of disapproval that you ignore, pulling your mouth away. Pre-cum dribbles out of tip. You use your finger to swipe it up and lick it. 

He looks scandalized. 

“Not bad. You eat clean huh.” 

“You’re going to kill me someday.” 

“You’re too young and too healthy to die.” 

He makes a face of disapproval at you. You toss him the lube before grabbing the strap. 

“Think you can work yourself open for me tough guy? Normally, I’d do it myself. Edge you out nice and slow, get you all soft. But I’m dying to fuck you already and I wanna make you cum on my cock.”

He looks at you exasperated. 

“Where’d you learn to talk like that?” 

“Casual sex and porn mags. You don’t like it?” 

“It makes you sound your age.” 

“Want me a little more suave? Tell you that I’m gonna make love to you?” 

He snorts. You take off your boxers and sit up on your knees as Bakugou opens the lube in his hands. You watch him idly, mostly focusing on wiggling yourself in the harness and making sure it’s comfortable enough to fuck in. 

He takes a deep breath, and you watch him reach between his legs. How it’s difficult since he’s so muscular. You almost want to help him, but instead you get between his legs again. Stood on your knees with a heavy bit of silicone weighing you down. You connect the tip to his, watching him push a finger in slowly. 

“Not if you say it like that.” 

“Having trouble there?” 

“You piece of shit.” 

“A worthless punk or something. C’mon, just say it. Ask me to finger your ass so I can fuck you. Or you want me to say something more delicate?” 

“Fuck, c’mon just, help me already.” 

“What’s the magic word?” 

“....Please, you worthless asshole.” 

You grin, grabbing the lube from the bed and squeezing it into your fingers. You laugh, leaning over him. 

“Got some manners left in you after everything, huh?”

You pull him down towards him by the waist, pulling his legs up. You kiss the inside of his knees, nudging his legs apart as you position your hands, warming the lube between your fingers. He’s surprised by your strength, but you don’t do anything but grin. 

“Keep your legs up for me, yeah?”

He scoffs but doesn’t go against your will. He looks good waiting for you like that, so you don’t take too much time trying to split him open. His hands are thicker than yours, so your first finger slides in like it’s nothing. He’s soft and hot on the inside, and the way he accommodates you lets you know this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

It doesn’t irritate you as much as you think it should. Maybe you’re a little screwed up to think it’s sexy but the idea of him getting fucked at any point is turn on. Once you’re down to the knuckle and you can pump in and out of him easily, you use a second finger to stretch him further. There’s more resistance so you slow, feeling up against his walls for the place you know it’ll feel good. 

You know you find it because his whole body tightens up in front of you. His eyes shoot open and he’s all breathy and fucked out. You relish in it. 

“Right there?” 

He must be feeling good with how little he’s combating you. 

“Y-yeah.” 

You lean forward to plant a kiss on him again but this time it’s tender. He must feel really good because he wraps his arms around your neck to keep you there. You moan in surprise and when you pull back he looks hazed out of his mind.

“Didn’t know you could make a face like that.” You say, amused. He frowns at you. 

“I’m not happy about it either.” 

A laugh falls out of you and you catch the faintest whisper of a smile on his lips that has you kissing the corners of his mouth. He catches himself before he leans into it too easily, but you notice before he can shy away. 

“Looks like I’m making your heart flutter. Forget the ethics for a little and let me.” 

“I should toss you out of a fucking window.” 

“You’re not gonna though.” 

This he doesn’t reply to. You slip a third finger while he’s distracted and he gasps. This time he’s almost stretched completely. You give him a minute to breathe, swallowing up the little sounds he makes with a hearty grin. It’s so fucking good just doing this. Incredible. Way better than you could’ve ever imagined. 

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” You say, bemused. He’s delirious enough to laugh. 

“The stamina of youths scares the hell outta me.” 

“I don’t wanna hear it from a retired pro.” 

This time he grins. You find yourself pleased with the development. 

He’s stretched now, and restless. You pull your hand away and rub the remaining slick onto the tip of your cock, giving him a look. 

“Do you know how you want me?” 

“It’s your fantasy fuck,” He says, semi-sarcastically “Do whatever you want.” 

You laugh, tapping his ass lightly. 

“Turn over and stick your ass up a little.” 

“Don’t wanna see my face?” 

“Wanna see how you swallow my cock up like it’s nothing, more like.” 

He curses under his breath. You feel accomplished. He turns over just like you’ve asked him too and fuck the sight of him is way too much. You can’t get over it. He’s big and strong and trembling with desire and it’s driving your sex-drive as high as it can possibly go. You move so your knees are on either side of his thighs. Leaning forward, you lick up from the small of his spine all the way up his shoulder, before sinking your teeth in the junction in between. 

He groans underneath you, and your hands make themself present around his hips. Most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The fucking arch and the scars and the ruggedness of all of it. 

“You’re damn gorgeous.” You say, with utter and sincere appreciation “It’s driving me fucking crazy.” 

“Save your smooth talk.” 

“I’m bein’ serious,” You say, pulling his ass apart with your palms “Like. Woah.” 

He snorts “Real poetic.” 

“I barely graduated school, asshat.” 

In the midst of your bantering, you let the tip of your cock slip into him slowly. It steals the words of reply out of his mouth in an instant. You can feel him melt underneath you. At the intrusion, at the feeling. At every single sensation. You feel the phantom of it in your spine. Like there’s fireworks in all your nerve-endings, just watching how his ass looks around it. Just the tip with no movement, no adjusting. 

He’s silent, shuddering - holding onto a pillow. A bead of sweat rolls down his spine. He has little dimples in his back. You groan. 

“Shit. Look at you.” 

The praise seems to make him keen. He’s always been one to like the attention. You roll your hips, fucking another inch into him agonizingly slow. He moans like he’s deflating, breathing ragged and voice raw. You rock back and forth until there’s no longer anything to resist, then push in and in and in. 

Once you bottom out with his ass against your pelvis and your hips on the back of his thighs, you lean forward and press your weight on top of him. You think he’s expecting something else, because he seems surprised. But you let yourself weigh upon him, then with a heavy grunt - cup his jaw and tilt his head to kiss him. 

“You like that?” 

“Shut up.” 

“C’mon. Be honest. You look like you like it. Ears turning so red.” 

He groans. 

“In your fucking dreams.” 

“Still not gonna budge huh?” You say. anchoring yourself at his sides with a deep sigh “So stubborn.” 

When you feel stable enough to move, you don’t hesitate to fuck him with all of the expertise you have. You give it to him in just the right way, measure up to where he needs you but don’t give in quite enough. It’s a strenuous affair but you keep it at. A steady pace that’s hard and deep but not good enough to make him cum. Something to leave him on the edge, you fuck him just like that. The sound of skin hitting skin and short, broken moans echo in the room. 

You focus on taking him like that, making sure each and every thrust is precise and calculated until he gets where you want him to be. You can practically feel when it’s starting to really get to him. When he can no longer hold himself up, so resigns to smushing his face against the pillow and going limp. You lean up, moving so you can pull his hips back with you - hovering off the bed on his knees instead of laying on his stomach. 

This time you reach deeper. His whining gets louder, more in tune with everything. You laugh as you reach around him, hands gripping at the base of his cock. It takes patience to unravel him like this, matching your hands to your movements until everything is in a slow, steady synchronization. Fast but not fast enough. Hard, but not hard enough. Close but not close enough. 

He lets out a heady groan that reverberates in his chest, opening his mouth finally. 

“C-c’mon. Just. C’mon.” 

“Aw what?” You say, rolling your hips up against him, where you know he wants you most “What is it, hm? Did you want something?” 

“Fuck. Just. Fuck me already.” 

“I am fucking you, though?” 

“You know what I mean!” 

“Oh, you want me to fuck you harder? Make you cum? I thought you didn’t like it.” 

He groans, dropping against the pillows again. 

“I didn’t say that. C’mon just. Please.” 

His voice is hoarse when he asks. You laugh against his shoulders, listening to his requests. Giving it to him how he needs it. Harder and a little deeper, you can feel it now. How you knock into the place inside him that leaves him trembling and shaking. You can read his cues now, when he starts getting close. But of course it’s not gonna be that easy. 

You keep the pace stand, putting your hand on the tip of his cock. You rub your thumb over the slit and hold it there. He sucks in a breath, whining a little. 

“Wanna cum so bad?” You offer, mouth twisted in a feral grin “Tell me you love me.” 

This knocks the wind out of him. 

“What?” 

“Say you love me with all your heart and I’ll let you cum.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking with me.” 

You fuck into him hard right where he needs you. He moans. 

“Nah. My fantasy fuck, remember? Right now, we’re playing love birds.’ Like’ works too, I guess. If you’re too scared,” You half-way mock, starting a pace now that borders cruel “Now say it nice and sweet and I’ll let you cum.” 

“You’re such a—agh, fuck,” He shudders against the bedsheets, repeating himself as you pound him. It’s easy to piston your hips. He’s so sensitive to begin with that it doesn’t take much “You’re insane.” 

“C’mon, old man. Confess your feelings to me like we’re sweethearts.” 

“In your dr—oh, shit.” 

“What was’at? Did you wanna say something?” 

You can practically feel him turn it over in his head. You’re mostly doing it to mess with him. Punishment for all of his beating around the bush and bullshitting. Getting to fuck him has been more than enough. 

So you’re not expecting him to stop you. To turn over flat on his back and lay with his legs spread and wrap his arms around your waist and stare at you through hazy, flushed eyes. This time you’re really looking at him. At the lines on his face and the scruff and an expression torn with time and desire and lust. Your heart nearly falls out of your fucking ass when he wraps his arms around your neck, palming your nape and pushing your foreheads together. 

When you’re nose to nose, he looks very serious all of a sudden. You swallow something in your throat, unsure of what else to do. 

“Gonna say this one fucking time, only. So listen up cause I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

He’s got to be fucking with you. 

“Love you..I love you or whatever.  But that doesn’t mean—” 

Before he can finish his sentence, you put your hands up under his knees and fuck him for all you’ve got. Half-way as revenge for the shitty confession and half-way because if you think too long about what he’s saying you’re pretty sure you’re going to collapse. 

He sounds good under you, as you fist his cock and laugh in absolute fucking delight. You stare at him hard. At his fucked out expression. You’re gonna cuss him out as soon as this shit is over, you swear. What an asshole. 

“O-oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna, g-gonna cum.” 

You goad him cause you aren’t sure what else you should do at this point. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Show it to me. Let me see what you look like.” 

The words are enough to push him over the edge. He gets unraveled right before your eyes, his whole body pulled like a bow before losing all the tension. You can feel his cock twitching hotly in your palms. Thick strings of white covering your fingers as you fuck him through it. He sounds so perfect like that, so fucking good for you. You can feel your whole body ready to give out just watching. 

When Bakugou finally finishes, he releases you from his grip. You pull out only seconds after, staring at his flushed state in wide-eyed disbelief. 

“Were you serious?” You ask, because it’s the only thing you can think to ask. He sighs, tired. 

“Yeah.” 

Where the hell is this dudes class? 

“Fuck.” 

He laughs, laid down before poking his head back up to stare at you. 

“You didn’t cum yet.” It’s more of a statement than a question. You shake your head. 

“Not yet. I can take care of it.” 

He clicks his teeth.

“No way. Come ‘ere.” 

You undo the harness of your strap before crawling over to where he’s laid. You end up standing on your knees. He props himself up on his elbows, and you look down at him absolutely mesmerized. He crinkles his nose at you. 

“That fucking lovesick look on your face is gross.” 

“Been like this for four years.” 

He flushes. 

You stand in front of him, bare on your knees. He reaches forward, brushing the hair over the hood of your clit gently.

“You’re so wet.” He murmurs. You laugh. 

“Yeah, no shit.” You say, too tired to do much arguing “Lemme borrow your mouth,” 

He snorts “Got it.” 

You fist your hands into his hair and tug, bringing his open mouth to your clit with a sigh. Your cunts sort from being pushed into and neglected. Even the barest brush of his mouth is making you shiver. Bakugou must know a little something about this, because he latches onto you without thinking twice. The sudden added pressure has heat building your stomach at the speed of light. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so on edge in such a short period of time. 

Plus looking down at him while you hump against his face is enthralling. 

“You’d make a cute little wife, old man,” You say thoughtfully, dull pleasure aching as you tuf his hair at the root “You can cook, clean, bake and you know how to use your mouth fucking perfectly.” 

He gives you a look of exasperation, but the warmth down his neck tells you he likes it. You laugh, throwing your head back. The visible sight of arousal flowing down his chin and making his face messy is making you more horny than you know what to do with. You don’t have the energy to cum more than once but you’re sure when you wake you you’re gonna be horny all over again. 

You try not to think too hard about it as you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter before unraveling all at once. Your insides are hotter than lava, the entire lower half convulsing as the strength in your thighs and legs gets lost gradually. Bakugou sucks until you’re nearly overstimulated, and you have to pull him away before it really gets to be too much for you. 

“You taste good.” He says thoughtfully. You laugh. 

“Got plenty more if you want it.” 

“We should clean up.” 

“You’re not kicking me out?” 

“I’m not a villain, damn it.” 

“You feel like one for that loser ass confession, but I’ll let it slide. I need a fucking nap though. Getting my ass kicked and having incredible sex in the same day is exhausting.” 

He laughs as you lay down besides him, sitting up. Even in your half exhausted state, you catch the feeling of his lips on your forehead. 

“Get some rest you brat.” 

__ 

You wake up in a familiar bed. 

If the sore feeling of laying pipe wasn’t in your hips, you’re pretty damn sure you just woke up out of a dream. What the fuck just happened to you? Your back and body is sore, but you’re clean like you’ve been wiped down. You’re stark naked though. 

The idea that he could give you a wipe but not dress you makes you laugh. When you sit up, all of your clothes are sitting still on a chair. There’s some new clothes on top of them though, his clothes. You stand to your feet, your back cracking as loud as possible as you examine the wounds. You have some hickies now (when the hell did he leave those) and when you turn there’s some scratches on your back. You feel self-satisfaction as you get dressed. You should hit the showers when you feel less lethargic. 

When you’ve reconciled with the fact you didn’t just conjure up what happened a few hours ago, you trek back into the living room. You find Bakugou where you expect him, bent over the stove making dinner. You lean on the frame of the door with a grin before walking over to him. 

You don’t hesitate in sliding your hands on his waist under his tank top. Better, he doesn’t react like you’ve shot him dead. A laugh blooms in your chest. 

“Morning grandpa.” 

“You fucking—if you don’t sit down.” 

You snort, but sit yourself down at the counter like you did a few hours ago. 

“Whatcha making for dinner.” 

“Grilled fish and rice. There’s sides.” 

“Sounds healthy.” 

His ears turn red. 

‘“You have work tomorrow but you need to recover.” 

You couldn’t smile more if you fucking tried. 

“We gonna talk about what just happened,” You ask, pouring yourself a glass of water as you sit down. You take a long sip “Or are you gonna pretend to keep washing rice?” 

He sighs, putting down the dry rice and the cup to measure. He almost looks furious, but he’s too cute for it to mean anything to you. You grin. 

“Hey. Fucking. Look. Alright. You’re way too fucking young. I’m old enough to be your father a-and you only just barely got your life together, so yes I told you whatever I told you. But no fucking funny business until you’re at least 25 and your brain is developed more than a peanut.” 

You nod.. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda a coward old man?” You say thoughtfully. He looks pissed again but it’s too funny for you to care “What’s funny business? Sex? Cause if it is, I’ve got bad news.” 

“We just. We have to be careful.” 

“So I can kiss, hug, fuck you in private but keep it outta the press?” 

He stares at you, scratching his neck. “Yeah. Basically.” 

You give him a thumbs up, grabbing a snack off the tray on his table. Chips, the fancy kind. They’re good. 

“Got it. Can I stay over? I don’t feel like driving down to my hotel this late.” 

“....You’re not pissed?” 

You laugh. 

“Are you kidding? I wasn’t mad the first time cause you rejected me, I was mad cause you were acting all fucking ethical and holier-than-thou. I figured it was gonna be something like that anyway. And I’m not much of a romantic, so dates and shit are whatever to me,” 

“Forreal?” 

“Yeah. Having sex and staying over to hang out for a while is cool. It was your fat head worrying about it, not mine. Did Mr. Deku managed to talk you out of your crisis while I was asleep?” 

He gives you a look. Bullseye again. 

“You two keep in touch?” 

“He’s a good dude and he buys me a meal when I’m short on change. Jealous?” 

He turns away from you before answering. His ears are burning. You feel your heart squeeze. 

What shit taste you’ve got being head over heels for this old bastard, you wonder. 

“Just shut up and eat your chips.” 

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

[hoedamn-eron]

lava rolls & caf in the mornings

Poe Dameron is a persistent bastard.

Warnings: Poe is bisexual (Taslet is a pilot in Blue Squadron). Themes of slut-shaming. Mentions of one night stands and sex. Worries of unrequited love. Mentions of fears of commitment. Small mention of parent death (both Poe and Reader). Some swearing. Lots of dialogue. Not proofread so there will be mistakes. It didn't go how I planned it, but I hope it's okay anyway! Word count: 3,821 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

From this request by anon. I apologise if this isn't what you expected!

The first time you had seen Poe Dameron was on a recruitment poster for the Resistance.

Your first impression was to scoff and comment on what a pretty boy he was, that the Resistance must really be struggling to get members if they’ve resorted to posters. But wherever you went, you couldn’t seem to escape them, and your eyes always wandered over the serious looking face of Poe Dameron, looking into the distance with those piercing eyes of his.

And the next thing you knew, you were signing up to join and you were shipped off to their base on D’Qar.

Thanks to your father (“You need a true skill to get yourself by.”), you were good with ships; not flying but fixing. You were immediately assigned to the mechanics, and you were soon tossed into the hustle and bustle of the day-to-day life of a Resistance member.

It was hard at first; you felt like you didn’t fit in. You tried to be friendly, really, but you weren’t there to make friends, you were there to win a war. You understand that companionship was one of the most important things in the Resistance (you needed to trust your team, and your team needed to trust you), but to the top dogs of the Resistance, you were just a mere mechanic that was there to fix their ships after a mission.

All of that changed when you actually met Poe.

He’d practically crashed his X-Wing on the tarmac and climbed out without a scratch on him, like it was no big deal. He was even smiling as the other Resistance members rushed over, expecting him to be half dead, and he even had the gall to ask, “Where’s the fire?”

“Your ship,” you’d replied, running over to help put said fire out.

“Ah,” he’d said, shrugging. “It’s just a scratch, it’ll buff right out.”

It did not, in fact, ‘buff right out’, and you knew this personally because you were the one assigned to help fix his ship.

And you say ‘help’, because Poe Dameron is a stubborn bastard, and likes things done his way, so he was constantly over your shoulder as you tried to fix his ship, but you both just ended up compromising, and he joined you. Once he’d cleaned up after his crash landing, you realised that he was as handsome as his posters, but he wasn’t as conceited as you thought he would be. Of course, he knew how good looking he was, but he was at least humble about it.

That’s how your friendship started.

He’d talked to you about your home planet, and he told you about his. You both – oddly – bonded over the deaths of your mothers. Where yours was but a few years ago, long after you were an adult, your heart broke for him when he revealed he was only 8 when his mother passed away. He’d told you that she was one of the reasons he loved flying so much.

Your friendship only grew more as he went out on more missions and requested for you to help fix his ship. Then it turned into inviting you out for drinks with him and his squad, then dinner together after a hard day working, and offers of going off world, to ‘check out that market’ that you’d heard so much about, and as they say; the rest was history.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen in love with him. It had slowly grown within you, like a flower blooming in the springtime; its roots weaved through your heart, seeking sustenance from every moment that you shared together. At first, it was subtle, like a faint whisper in the wind, barely noticeable, but you knew you felt…something. You put it down to kinship – he was your first friend in the Resistance and had taken you under his wing with no judgement. But you soon realised it was more than that.

You found yourself seeking him out, wanting to spend time with him. His laughter became the melody to which your heart danced, and his smile the sun that warmed your entire being. As days turned into nights and seasons changed, the love you felt for him deepened. Each day brought new discoveries, new reasons to cherish him. Love, it seemed, had quietly taken root and flourished, transforming your world in ways you could have never imagined, never imagined for yourself.

But then…he asked out that new pilot on Blue Squad, Taslet.

Then Tracey from droid repair.

Then that Twi’lek girl from the medbay…her name escapes you.

And you’ve come to realise that Poe Dameron would never settle down. He was too much of a free spirit or something of that kind. It hurt, to know that you would never really be together, but you would rather have him as a friend than nothing at all.

And over your dead body Poe would ever find out about your feelings for him.

You’d been in the Resistance for two years now, and you have only grown closer to Poe, and gained more friendships with his squad. And you love him, you’ve established that, but you’re about to punch your best friend in the face.

“I said no, Poe,” you say to him.

“Come on,” he replied, giving an overexaggerated groan. “You haven’t dated a single person since coming here – “

“It’s almost as if I came here for a different reason other than dating around,” you say, rolling your eyes as you stomp your way into the hangar, where Poe had obviously put some damage to his ship, again, and now you had to fix it.

This time, it was just a paint job.

Poe whines your name. “Come on, let me set you up.”

“I’m not interested, Poe,” you say, giving him a laugh as you reach his X-Wing. “Besides, I don’t even think anyone here is remotely concerned in dating me.”

He pauses for a moment as you climb onto his wing, focusing your attention on the deep scratches that were left there by Maker knows what. You frown at them, knowing that there’s some matching X-Wing paint somewhere on base, when Poe’s next words throw you.

“I might know someone.”

Your eyes meet his, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity on your face. You merely raise an eyebrow at him.

He gives you a dopey smile. “I might be interested.”

“’Might’ be?” you ask him, your eyebrow still raised.

“Okay, I am definitely interested.”

Your eyes widen a little, your body tensing. He said it so casually. How is he not sweating? The thought of you admitting your feelings to him sets you on edge all the time, and you have to go to a quiet place to calm down. Yet here he was, just…just telling you.

“You’re not serious,” you say, giving a nervous laugh. You’re giving him the opportunity to take it back, to say he’s joking.

He’s not. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? You’re good looking, you’re great to talk to, I trust you with my life, and my ship. You’re great with BB, why wouldn’t I want to date you?”

You snort in amusement. “You’re just saying all’a this – “

“No, I want to date you. Let me take you out.”

You look at him in disbelief, that smug grin on his face as he just…stands there, looking at you with his hands on his hips, as if he’d just told you how his day went.

You give a small laugh. “No.”

That wiped the grin off his face.

“Why not?” he asked, his brow furrowing, showing off that cute little crease between his eyebrows that you’d imagined yourself kissing away a million times.

You couldn’t answer that. It’s not because you didn’t know why, it’s because the reason might change your friendship forever. He was just teasing you, trying to make you feel better about ‘not dating anyone’. So you tell him so, that he’s just saying that because he’s just put his foot in it.

Poe shakes his head. “No, no, that’s not true – “

“You’ve literally been with every unavailable person on base, Poe,” you tell him.

“Be reasonable,” Poe said, giving you a look. “It’s not every available person.”

“It’s enough,” you say, giving him a grin. You hop down from his X-Wing, standing in front of him. “I think you’re a great guy, Poe, but you’re just…I wouldn’t date you.”

He looks at you still, with a determined look on his face.

You take his silence as a sign to continue. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but…but you…you’re – “

“You can call me a slut, it’s okay,” he says, grinning at you.

You shake your head immediately, reaching to run your hands through your hair in frustration, lightly gripping at your roots. “No, Poe, that’s not what I’m saying – “

“Then just spit it out,” he says, almost laughing in frustration. “It’s me.”

You sigh and drop your arms, before averting your gaze. “You’re not a relationship kind of guy. You date a lot and fuck around a lot, and that’s okay…for you. But that’s not…I don’t want that.”

Poe goes quiet as he studies you. He doesn’t say anything as you finally looked back at him, your cheeks warm and you shift uneasily from one foot to the other under his scrutinising gaze. His eyes, like pools of warm caramel, seem to pierce through you, as though probing into areas of thoughts you've long kept long hidden from him, and the world. A faint flicker of amusement dances at the corners of his lips, hinting at the secrets he might already have unravelled from you, and the look on your face. The silence between you stretches as the weight of his gaze continues to bear down on you.

You find yourself feeling self-conscious, as though you’ve been laid bare before him.

“I can be a ‘relationship kind of guy’,” he says, the corners of his lips twitching again in mirth. “For you.”

“Stop,” you say, shaking your head as you turn away from him, suddenly desperate to find that paint for his X-Wing.

“No, I won’t,” he said, having no problem keeping up with you, even when you sped up. “You won’t date me because…I’ve slept with a few people?”

“I just want something serious, Poe,” you say, sighing as you stop and turn around to look at him. “Like I said, it’s okay that you’re not. You can sleep with whoever you want. We’re in the middle of a war, there’s no room for relationships, right?”

Poe looks at you with an uneasy look on his face. “I’m trying really hard not to be insulted here.”

“No, this isn’t…” you heave a heavy sigh and rub your hands over your face. You feel stressed. This isn’t how you imagined your day going. It was supposed to be a slow day, there were no missions, no supply runs, where you could get on with the small repairs you’d been putting off.

But no. Poe had to try and convince you to go out on a date. With him.

“I’m not bothered that you’ve…that…to put it nicely, that you’ve fucked around, okay?” you ask. “I know you. I know you’re safe and use protection, you’re not an idiot. I get it. Commitment just isn’t your thing.”

You’re met with silence again. He’s just staring at you; the crease in between his eyebrows is back again. You both stand there for so long that you look around nervously, about to tell him that you’re going to find the paint for his X-Wing but he cuts you off before you could get another word in.

“I’m going to change your mind.”

You blink at him, your mouth falling open a bit. You weren’t expecting that.

“It’s nice that you don’t judge me for having sex. And I have had a lot of sex,” said Poe, grinning dopily at you. “But I’m going to prove to you that I can be serious. I can be serious with you.”

You shake your head, knowing that he won’t last as long as he thinks he will, before turning away from him. “We’ll see. Now help me find the paint for your X-Wing.”

Poe is persistent.

He’d greeted you at your door every day with a cup of caf, a lava roll, and a big smile, BB-8 usually spinning around at his feet, beeping at you happily. You’d walk together to the hangar, where you would share the lava roll.

He’d invite you to have lunch with him, where he’d ask you about your day so far, and you would tell him about the repairs you’d been assigned with that day.

At the end of the day, he’d walk you back to your quarters, where he would ask you out for dinner, as a date.

And you said no. Every time.

He would just grin at you and tell you he’d see you tomorrow.

Where he started the cycle again.

After the third week, you took a seat with Finn and Rey in the cantina for lunch – the first one without Poe since he was with the General for a mission debrief.

“Hi guys,” you greet them, placing your tray of food down as you sit opposite Finn. You tucked in immediately; you were starving.

“How’re you doing?” Rey asked you, a kind smile on her lips.

“Can’t complain,” you reply, shrugging. “You?”

“Not so bad,” she replied.

“You dating Poe yet?” Finn asked you.

You chuckled as you continued to eat your food. “Nope.”

“C’mon, put the guy out of his misery,” Finn said, smirking at you.

“Poe is fine,” you say, shaking your head and rolling your eyes, giving Finn a good-natured grin. “Stay out of it.”

“It’s sad,” teased Finn. “All he does is pout about how you won’t go out with him.”

“He’s doing it to prove a point,” you say. “He’s not serious.”

“Who’s not serious?” a voice asks behind you, and the three of you look up to see Jess and Karé joining you.

Rey told them how you were talking about you not accepting Poe’s offers of a date.

“You’re already dating him,” Jess said causally, taking a seat next to you as Karé sits opposite her and next to Rey.

You snort in amusement. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, giving you a pointed look. “He comes to get you every morning and you have lunch every day. That’s dating.”

“No, we did that all the time before,” you say. “We’re friends.”

“But you want more, right?” Karé asks, giving you a pointed look. “Because we’ve all seen how you look at Poe. It’s like he hung the stars.”

Your mouth falls open. “N-no! No, you’re wrong. He’s just…we’re just…”

“I don’t know why you’re so weird about it, he feels the same way,” Karé said, casually eating her food.

Your heart races as at her admission, and your stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation. Your mind reels, grappling with disbelief. You find yourself questioning the authenticity of Karé’s words. She was just saying that. That’s the silliest thing you’ve ever heard. Poe doesn’t like you like that.

Does he?

It's too good to be true, isn't it? You've dreamt about this moment countless times in your time here, but now that it's supposedly happening, scepticism creeps in like a dark shadow, almost like a plague on your self-esteem. You feel all your insecurities come rushing to the surface, because your friends surely are only making you feel better about your unrequited feelings for Poe.

The thought of allowing yourself to believe it feels like stepping onto thin ice, afraid of it cracking beneath your feet. You've built up walls to protect yourself from disappointment, and now someone is asking you to tear them down based on a mere observation, from word of mouth. You don’t believe it.

“No he doesn’t,” you say finally.

“Honey,” Jess says, giving you a grin. “He’s been trying to get you to agree that you’re dating for weeks.”

“We’re not – “

“Stop, please, you’re giving us all a migraine,” Karé said, almost annoyed. “We all know you’re worried about his reputation, but why should it matter? He’s a good guy who enjoys intimacy, there’s nothing wrong with it. It’s still the same Poe.”

“I don’t have a problem with it, it’s just…” you go quiet before sighing, then lean in. “What if, after a while, he realises I’m not what he wants? What if I’m too serious for him? Because I don’t date around.”

“You don’t think Poe will want to be in a relationship?” Rey asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You nod. “I’ve talked about this with Poe, but he’s determined to prove me wrong.”

Your friends look at you silently, before Jess eventually shrugs at you.

“So let him.”

“Hey,” you call up to Poe, who was messing with the control panel of his X-Wing.

He looks at you at the sound of your voice before giving you a thousand-watt smile. “Hey there.”

“Can we talk? Please?” you ask.

Poe’s brow furrows in confusion but he wastes no time in climbing out of his X-Wing and standing in front of you, his look of confusion slowly melting into one of concern as he asks you what’s happened.

You’d been thinking about Karé’s words all day, and how your other friends hadn’t denied it. In fact, they seemed to agree. And after thinking about it…maybe they were right.

Maybe it's the way Poe smiles when he sees you, or the genuine warmth in his eyes when you talk. Perhaps it's the way he goes out of his way to spend time with you, or the way he laughs at your terrible jokes a little too eagerly. You had always thought he was just being friendly, but he…he didn’t act like that around the other who he’d slept with.

You’d started to entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Karé was right all along. Maybe Poe did like you in the same way as you do with him. And in that moment of acceptance, a surge of exhilaration had coursed through your veins, and you suddenly found yourself in the hangar.

You refuse to let fear or doubt hold you back any longer.

“Okay,” you say, taking a breath as you look at him. “So this…this is going to be long so just…just stay with me please.”

Poe nodded. “Okay.” He places his hands on his hips as he looks at you.

Oh God, why does he always have to look so good. It wasn’t fair that the Maker made this man into a perfect specimen. A caring, wonderful, funny specimen.

“I just want you to know that I love you.”

Poe slowly smiles at you. “I love you too.”

“No, no,” you say, giving him a firm look. “I love you.”

He falters, his smile fading a little as he stared at you.

Your heart stops.

Oh, shit, everyone was wrong.

You start scrambling.

“I’m sorry to throw this on you,” you say quickly, trying to correct your mistake. “It’s just that you’ve been trying to get me to go on a date with you for weeks and I just thought it was for fun, you know? That it was a bit, but then I thought that maybe it wasn’t, that you were serious, that you actually want to take me out on a date – “

He interrupts you by calling your name, but you don’t hear him over your babbling.

“ – and I really want to go out with you, like so much, and I know I was a dumbass and thought that you couldn’t be sincere, since you…well, you know why, and I’m sorry that it came across as me being judgemental, because I was, a little bit – “

He tries to interrupt you again with your name.

“ – but I was an idiot and I’m sorry, I’m sorry for saying you couldn’t be serious enough for a relationship, I’m sorry for stringing you along for the last few weeks, it’s not fair on you, I should be more considerate to your feelings – “

He shouts your name, causing you to jump at the sudden volume. You look at him with wide eyes, breathless after your rant. You both stare at each other for a moment, and you can feel the panic claw at your throat at the unreadable look on his face. You can always know what Poe is feeling, what Poe is thinking, and it’s unnerving to know that you don’t know what’s going to happen.

Eventually, he reaches out to you, and holds you by your upper arms. “What’s brought this one?”

“Karé told me you like me,” you say quickly. “In a like-like way.”

Poe looked at you for a moment before he broke into a grin and started chuckling to himself.

Now you look confused.

“You are a dumbass,” he says, still laughing.

You couldn’t help but laugh with him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising. Listen,” Poe says, giving a dramatic sigh as his hands slides down your arms and hold your hands. “I’m not going to lie, it did hurt when you said you wouldn’t date me because I’d…slept around. I understand, though, that it can be a little much.”

You bite your lip nervously before looking at the floor, shamefully.

“Hey, no, don’t look away,” said Poe, before grinning when you look back up at him. “I want you to know that you mean the world to me. And more. And I love you too.”

You give him a slow, dopey smile.

“And although you’ve been ‘stringing me along’ for a weeks,” he says, giving you a teasing look, causing you to giggle. He gives your hands a squeeze. “I still love you and want to date you. Now, will you go out on a date with me?”

You grin excitedly before nodding. “Yes, I will go out on a date with you.”

“Finally!” said Poe, grinning at you. “I was starting to lose faith in myself!”

“I just don’t want to miss out having a lava roll first thing, they’re always the first to go,” you say teasingly, pulling him towards you as you wrap your arms around his waist.

He immediately slid his arms around you too.

It felt food. Natural. Like you were meant to be doing this the whole time.

“Oh so you don’t want me to be with you for love, you just want me to bring you lava rolls and caf every morning,” Poe teases back.

You grin and nod. “Mhm.”

“Now I know where I stand.”

“Bet all your other partners will be upset they’ll never get lava rolls and caf.”

“They never got them anyway.”

[beautifulhigh]

Hi hi!! It's unfair of me to ask you to actually write the full essay on the rwrb red room kiss scene, but I saw your tags and am very interested in at least what the main thesis would be, if you feel like sharing!! No worries if not 😊 Have a good night/day/whatever time it is where you are!

The last few weeks have been, well. They've Been™ and I'm going to use this wonderful ask to dust off my overthinking tag and write a meta post on this movie, these boys, and then hope more than three people care what I have to say.

The Red Room kiss scene is Iconic™ and Important™ and in this essay I (really) will discuss agency, framing, and why it always had to be Alex to be the one to make the move.

While book!Alex takes book!Henry to the Red Room, here he's waiting. Bundle of nervous energy. He doesn't know what to do with himself, how to hold himself, how to present himself when Henry turns up. He's backlit in this (which is a theatre technique, I see you Matthew) but it also adds to the drama and tension of the scene.

The (in)famous painting of Hamilton, about to bear witness to things.

We jump cut between Alex trying to find... something. Here he is realising his shirt has come slightly undone and he wants to try and be somewhat presentable. At least for the moment. But it speaks to Alex's physicality in this scene because he is shifting and moving so much that his clothing is shifting. There's also an interpretation that this suit represents the formality of the situation - the Prime Minister's dinner, at which he (the First Son) and the boy he wants to kiss (the actual Prinec) are supposed to be front and centre and the picture of formality.

He's coming undone in this moment because he's the First Son and he's waiting for the Prince, but he's also Alex and he's waiting for Henry.

Ah, yes. The casual lean against the wall. Fancy seeing you here, your Royal Highness, what do you think of the menu? But there's grounding here too. When you're spiralling focusing on a physical point of contact between you and and something can help ground you.

It's also a defensive stance in a way. You shall not pass, I'm not moving. Alex is claiming space and territory and he's controlling it.

"How dare you fucking kiss me, run away, ghost me, then walk into the White House like nothing changed." This is closed off, defensive, protective - probably why it's the quickest of the poses to be dismissed. He's got his back against the wall like he's scared or ready to come out fighting. And, in a way, both of those are true.

Book!Alex is mid-crisis on his bisexuality and while he logically knows he is very much into Henry, he's not gotten to the point of turning theory into reality.

Movie!Alex is more chill about being into guys, but this attraction to Henry is confusing him. He hates the guy. He wants to punch him in the mouth. With his mouth.

(What? That's literally book canon: and if he weren’t already hell-bent on destroying Henry’s infuriating idiot face with his mouth right now, he would consider doing it with his fist.)

Casual lean against the table, less staged and jarring than the extended arm against the wall.

But then Henry walks in and Alex stands to attention and he is... rapt. He is calm and composed and he is focused. We're back to the back-lit position which helps frame him with a near-halo effect.

And you can see that he is relaxed. There's a slight drop in the jaw, his shoulders are sloped and rounded. Because none on what he was trying to convey before matters. Henry is here.

"Look" he starts with - he's expecting a fight. He's expecting Alex to go off on one for the kiss, for the liberty taken. Even if Alex is willing to forget that it ever happened, take Henry's secret to the grave, Henry gets one thing right in this.

"my behaviour was appalling"

Because it was. Look, Hen, I love you and I'm with Alex in the feeling that I will go to war for you to see you happy and safe. But you did kinda kiss him without consent (harsh reading) and you did ghost him without apology (soft reading) and for a boy raised in the Royal Household that... well... it's pretty much top items on the Very Bad Behaviour list. He did not act with decorum or dignity, he did not act in the way that his status and position demands.

(That's OK, Hen. Because the boy under the linden tree wasn't the Prince. It's OK to not be him, and Alex is going to spend the rest of his life loudly loving the man, not the prince.)

"Shut up, stop talking." // “Shut up, shut all the way up, oh my God,” Alex hisses

Because even though both versions of Alex said he wanted to talk to Henry, in the moment that's the last thing he wants to do. And actions speak louder than words, right?

Why it had to be Alex

Henry needed to make the first move, that New Year's kiss, because there needed to be something to make Alex realise that this thing he's feeling is very much reciprocated, and that Henry wants it too. If Alex had kissed Henry for the first time on New Year's Eve/Day then it would have been too much of a leap. Alex, at whatever stage of his bisexual journey, has no clear idea of Henry's orientation at that party. It's only with retrospective viewing that he realises that Henry was low-key flirting, and that the sharing of these deeply personal moments wasn't just a "two bros in a hot tub" thing.

So Henry had to kiss Alex first but then he had to run because there was no way that the mostly-closeted, private Prince could accept that a) he fucking kissed a boy, b) said boy is the one he's been dreaming of since Rio/Melbourne, and c) the boy kinda?? kissed him back?? Henry will have been having a low-grade anxiety attack all through January (and trying to reclaim some control with the date he went on in the book).

In this moment, Alex knows all the pieces. He's played this logic game to its conclusion and he knows all the facts. 1) Henry is gay. 2) Henry is into him. 3) He's into Henry. That last fact is something Henry isn't fully aware of (or at least can't bring himself to believe it to be true) and so it has to be Alex.

He doesn't want Henry to say something that would get in the way of this, doesn't want to hear any kind of pre-prepared speech of "yeah, we're better off as friends" that always happens when the couple get too close to getting together too early in the run time. Alex is full on shutting that down, shutting Henry up, and he gives as good as he got.

"Wait a minute" // Henry’s too shocked to respond, mouth falling open slackly in a way that’s more surprise than invitation, and for a horrified moment Alex thinks he calculated all wrong, but then Henry’s kissing him back, and it’s everything.

And this time it's both of them. Framed between Hamilton and the books. The American political trailblazer and the literary. In the space between? There's our boys.

Alex's hand is on the wall again and he's controlling the space but Henry is very much in it. He's protective but in a different way.

In one frantic motion, Alex knocks the candelabra off the table next to them and pushes Henry onto it so he’s sitting with his back against—Alex looks up and almost breaks into deranged laughter—a portrait of Alexander Hamilton. Henry’s legs fall open readily and Alex crowds up between them, wrenching Henry’s head back into another searing kiss. They’re really moving now, wrecking each other’s suits, Henry’s lip caught between Alex’s teeth, the portrait’s frame rattling against the wall when Henry’s head drops back and bangs into it. Alex is at his throat, and he’s somewhere between angry and giddy, caught up in the space between years of sworn hate and something else he’s begun to suspect has always been there. It’s white-hot, and he feels crazy with it, lit up from the inside. Henry gives as good as he gets, hooking one knee around the back of Alex’s thigh for leverage, delicate royal sensibilities nowhere in the cut of his teeth. Alex has been learning for a while Henry isn’t what he thought, but it’s something else to feel it this close up, the quiet burn in him, the pent-up person under the perfect veneer who tries and pushes and wants. He drops a hand onto Henry’s thigh, feeling the electrical pulse there, the smooth fabric over hard muscle. He pushes up, up, and Henry’s hand slams down over his, digging his nails in.

The sensibility of the suits is on its way out, they're not the First Son and the Prince. And Alex is taking the lead.

Agency

Henry is somewhat passive in this - although he is fully engaged - but it's Alex who set this in motion. Pun intended. Alex who pushed him against the wall. Alex who pushed him up onto the table and hiked his leg up around his hip, Alex who is driving in. Because Alex needs Henry to know that third fact. The one he's worked out, the one that Henry is just catching up with. This isn't payback, it's not some prank. Alex Wants™.

There's a scene I'm writing in my current FirstPrince WiP in which Alex and Henry have a charged moment. And Henry wants to act on it but those princely sensibilities get in the way and he can't let himself be led into doing something that could be used against him. If Henry made all the moves then the accusation of him taking advantage, of the inherant imbalance that comes with status and titles and positions of power. So in the scene, and here, Alex takes the lead. There's no way anyone could accuse Henry of forcing Alex into doing this.

(Good luck getting Alex to do ANYTHING he doesn't want to.)

So Alex gives and Henry takes and he gets the memo very quickly.

Fact number three. Alex wants this too.

Then Movie!Amy walks in on them (which IMO is way funnier than Book!Amy hissing through a crack in the door) and these idiots try to act like they weren't redefining International Relations a second ago. Alex is by the painting, Henry is by the books. They've gone back to their sides and they're playing at being interested in what they find there. But they're not, it's all for show, someone who gives a passing glance at this point sees this part of them, this side of them The First Son and the Prince: the politician and the literary.

They're both backlit, they're in line even if it doesn't look like it, Alex is no longer on Henry's right, and they're both trying to act like the people that others could see them as.

But we - and they - know better. 1) Henry is gay. 2) Henry is into Alex. 3) Alex is into Henry.

4) Everyone is on the same page now.

(Also I know Casey talked about seeing the Red Room on a White House tour and so that's why they included a scene in that room in their book, but I cannot ignore the fact that red = love and passion and danger and fire [the counter to the water motif] and it's a warm colour designed to excite.)

[jay7543]

therapist!reader and client!Konig??? I think it would just be so wholesome.

You and your therapist könig

M4m

18+

I like this idea a lot, does seem really wholesome. Won’t have many smut aspects but it will be a bit spicy but it will be fairly short, at least compared to my other stuff. I hope you enjoy!

This one does get in the feels a bit, so be ready for that.

Also, after writing this, I have realized i flipped the roles, I hope that doesn’t bother you too much, message me if you want them normal like you said. Or I might just do it anyway. I am truly sorry for the inconvenience

Feel free to make requests

Let’s be honest, you’ve had problems for a while. From depression and anxiety to worries about your sexuality. You also never thought a therapist would be a good idea. It was expensive and you were brought up thinking your problems were your own, not anyone else’s to deal with. After years of bullshit and deliberation, and a recommendation from a friend, you got a therapist. You’ve been seeing him for a few weeks now, not delving too deep into your problems but getting comfortable with him, it helps that he’s your age. He is foreign though, which is a bit odd to you, his name is könig, he’s an amazing listener and very considerate, at least after you got over how tall he was, and how handsome he was.

You’re now outside of his office, ready for your fourth session, preparing to talk about some real problems. You knock on the door.

König-“komm��

You assume he told you to come in. You like it when he speaks German a bit, but you still don’t understand it. You open the door with a weak smile and close it behind you.

Reader-“h-hey doc”

You say nervously, waking over to the seat next to him that you usually spend most of your time.

König-“ah, hello maus. How have you been since our last session”

You blush a bit when he called you maus, it always makes you feel so cute.

Reader-“I-I’ve been ok I guess. You?”

König-“I’ve been good. In fact I’ve been looking forward to this session. I think I’m finally getting somewhat of a read on you.”

He says with a smile. So warm and welcoming.

Reader-“well I….i wanted to actually bring up some real problems this time. I-I might get a bit emotional though, I-i tend to”

König leans forward in his seat, now taking your words much more seriously. He’s been waiting for this.

König-“go ahead. I’m willing to listen to whatever you have to say, and I don’t mind the emotions, I welcome it in fact”

You take a few deep breaths to hype yourself up before finally speaking

Reader-“well, one of my biggest problems is my self image, I feel like I’m not pretty or handsome enough you know”

You look down and play with your fingers for a minute, trying to get the nerves to go away. König just nods and writes in his notes, waiting for you to continue

Reader-“I uh, I also have trouble with my sexuality”

König’s eyes shoot back up at you, he wasn’t exactly expecting it but it’s a very welcome surprise.

Reader-“I’m bisexual but I’ve never really been in a relationship, I’ve also always been scared to tell people that. And it all kinda wraps around to the self image thing”

You both sit quietly for a minute, him taking your words in and thinking of how to respond, you waiting for him too.

König-“well, a very important question is where do you think those problems stem from, it’s very important to know that”

You think for a second and try to figure out a moment or moments that caused it

Reader-“how my parents were when I was younger I guess. They weren’t hateful or homophobic or anything, just….they didn’t make me feel like I could trust them. Made me feel like I wasn’t allowed to mess up, or do something they might not like”

König-“that’s understandable, a lot of problems stem from how parents have treated their children. A lot of parents don’t even realize that they’re doing it. Or how much they’re affecting their child.”

He says in a very soft tone, leaning in a bit closer, attempting to comfort you in some way. You nod

Reader-“yeah, I just…I don’t know”

You start to get a bit choked up, thinking about how you were as a kid, how carefree you were, how innocent you were. Then how you are now, how sad you are, the things you feel like you’re missing out on. It all comes out in a stream of tears.

König-“it-it’s ok to cry. Don’t feel bad”

He leans in and hugs you softly, and you latch into him like he’s the only one who’s shown you this kind of kindness. You’ve just barely opened up and you’re already crying, you feel pathetic, but he helps to get rid of those thoughts.

Reader-“I just feel broken. Like I can’t be me. Like I’m not good enough”

You cry into his shoulder, letting out all of those feelings of inadequacy. He leans in and whispers.

König-“none of that is true maus. I haven’t known you for long but you seem very nice, and considerate of others. You’re not broken, you can be you. You are good enough”

These words make you cry more. They’re the nicest things you’ve ever heard. And after he says them he leans in and kisses your forehead, which is more than a therapist should but…you like it, he makes you feel cared about.

König-“you’re very pretty, or handsome, or whatever word you want to use. You’re enough how you are, and I’ll be here to help you realize that”

Reader-“th-thank you”

You stammer out through your sniffles and tears. He hold you close, rubbing your hair and giving you soft kisses every now and then, until the end of the session. He cares…he’s the first one….he really cares.