#i love that u asked this on a tuesday. thank u for asking this on a tuesday

[zzoguri]

[TEASER] finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

inspired by ➵ "seasons" by wave to earth, the last five years

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, the last five years story-telling method aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward (i hope that makes sense), missed chances, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, hurt/comfort, jealousy remains but love triumphs, tiger parents, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ est. 10-15k

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by renee rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ shhhhhhh.... i know that i'm still writing this but a lil motivation and accountability goes a long way SOOO !!! this is just a lil teaser for the upcoming jichang fic for the deoboyznet event <33 thank you again to my lovely @hcuyk for beta reading !!! (i've only written 1/4 please understand.) but i'm dedicating this to my lovely @sungbeam whose love for changmin is one i'll forever feel even to my ribs and @wavesmp3 who forever remains an inspiration in the way i write </3 plus, i've posted these snippets anyway so :P if ure interested in this fic, feel free to ask to be part of the taglist for this! and dont forget to always leave feedback <3

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlists

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was home cooked, something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stocking up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob quickly runs away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek, and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

taglist ➵@winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

[mokutone]

your art makes me wanna start testosterone

i can't read tone well, so this is either an incredibly touching ask, or an extremely funny one, and in the absence of confirmation: both!

i'm in a chatty mood, so i'll share some thoughts about testosterone and my art.

i liked being on testosterone a lot. i had an IM injection every two weeks (on tuesdays!) and because that's a sizeable dose every 14 days that slowly disperses, it can cause some mood fluctuations (every other friday i would have a crisis about not feeling like the world had a place for me in it) but even those were far more manageable than the ones that would come with my previous and current monthly hormone cycle (every month i spend a solid week thinking the world will never have a place for me in it)

It gave me a patchy little bit of scruff on my chin and a whispy mustache under my nose that still struggles on, despite adversity!

It redistributed my fat a little bit, but that's long since gone back to pre-T shape.

it lowered my voice! that hasn't changed :^)! even if i never go back on t, that won't change. it was the thing i most wanted, and its the one i'm most grateful for. Pre-T, I didn't speak much. I'm getting better and better at talking and getting more and more comfortable communicating with people because of it.

having been off t now for 3 years, i don't pass anymore—not as a cis man, or a cis woman, certainly not as anything approximating straight. if people look at me and see anything, i'd hazard a guess that they see me as A Queer (the noun—for all it's complicated connotations).

i'm not surprised that my art might make somebody want to start testosterone! a lot of my art was made out of the aching grief that came with being kicked off of testosterone, and how neatly that loss of autonomy over my own body knits in with yamato's loss of autonomy over his own.

how my body started doing things i disliked, how i didn't have the support necessary to access the healthcare i needed—how my inability to give myself what i needed made me feel as though i were trapped inside of myself and abandoned (by both myself and the world at large)

when i write comics about yamato as a trans man, i don't take away his testosterone, because that hits a little too close to home for me. for Ninja War Town Reasons, he has plenty of access to all the HRT he could ever need and nobody questions his need for it—instead, i project my own horrors onto the way Danzō defined his identity for him as a child, the way that Kabuto and Obito dehumanize him as an adult in their war efforts, and reduce him to the thing his body holds (the Mokuton). I give him a kneejerk compulsion to dehumanize himself (out of a feeling that he has a duty to his community to do so) and I give him a slow-growing resistance to that impulse (which comes out of a feeling that the people he loves would frown upon seeing him reduce himself like that)

it's dysphoria! it's not gender dysphoria, but it's a loss of self, and a need to reclaim it. it's a war between the hollow shell of a thing he thinks he has to be, and the vibrant and messy person beneath it that he is. it's a desperate need to say "this is who i am—only i can say it"

I enjoyed HRT a lot. it was a really useful tool in helping me feel like my body was my own, that i didn't have to fight it, that we were the same entity. It's not the only tool, but it was a really good one, and one day I hope to use it again.

(as for the being off of it—it's unpleasant, but i'm enduring! being somebody who now doesn't really pass as anything has put me in a weird and interesting position, where I'm constantly having to declare myself to people, because nobody knows what to make of me on any front. they don't know if i'm a man, a woman, nonbinary, nor even what age i am (Augh!!!!) it forces me to be brave and vulnerable more than I'm comfortable with—if I tell somebody I'm a man, there's no way that they will believe I'm cis, but I'm not about to recloset myself—and I don't think I could at this point anyway.)

(there's something fascinating about the position i find myself in, and while i'd leap back on t the moment that an opportunity presented itself to do so, i do feel like i'm experiencing something interesting and important in this weird zone i find myself in)

[honeydots]

If you want another prompt: ❛ because i care about you, okay? ❜ Leokumi

"Because I care about you, okay?" 1.2k, leokumi (background xanlow) from this ask game

Takumi is sick in Nohr, and he hates it.

He’s laying here, in one of their hugely fluffy Nohrian beds, wrapped in blankets and feeling gross. He was already cold, but now he’s shivering, and the air tastes weird. It’s an all around bad experience. He’d rather be sick anywhere else.

Leo’s decided to just hang out with him while he’s dying here, for whatever reason, working on something on a desk near Takumi’s bed. It’s seriously embarrassing enough that everyone knows Takumi got sick, Leo doesn’t have to stick around and watch him roll through the covers miserably.

That’s exactly what Takumi’s doing, too. He groans, and he flops onto his side, as if facing the left will make him any less sick than facing the right might. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten that weird fruit,” he mumbles, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

Last night, Takumi had a typical Nohrian dinner—which is to say it was pretty damn atypical for Takumi’s tastes. And ultimately it was fine, just not what he’s used to, but there was this one thing. A Nohrian fruit with a skin covered in bumps to peel off, that was mushy and sweet to eat. And he didn’t hate that either, but he had a bad feeling about it.

“We don’t know it was the food, you know,” Leo comments, obviously not working and rather eying Takumi with his legs crossed. Takumi squints at him.

“I ate it, and now I feel sick. What part of that doesn’t point to the food?”

Leo shrugs at him, of all things. It isn’t Takumi’s fault Leo fed him something weird. Takumi shuffles more under the blankets, feeling just as gross but also moody.

Leo, still not working on whatever it is he’s working on, leans forward in his chair. “Have you been able to stomach anything I gave you?” he asks. Takumi frowns, and he glances over at the plate of food Leo offered earlier. Much more simple stuff, easy grains and soup. Takumi sighs.

“Kind of,” he says. “The crackers were okay.” His stomach is in complete knots, and those were basically the only things that didn’t make it worse. But he can’t say he has an appetite anyway.

Leo hums. “The water?”

“Don’t want it.” Which makes Leo frown.

“Not even a sip?”

“Later, okay, I don’t want to vomit.” Mostly Takumi doesn’t want to have to sit up to drink it, actually. Leo gives him such a look, too, like he knows. Takumi gives him a look right back. “What’s with you?”

Leo raises an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”

“You’re being pushy.” Which doesn’t seem to bother Leo as much as Takumi would’ve liked it to. Annoying. “Go somewhere else. I don’t get why you’re sitting in here with me.”

Leo, pretty pointedly, does not get up. “Because I care about you. Or is that not allowed?” he says, which is also annoying. Leo turns to his work, still clearly not intending to leave, and then glances back to Takumi. “Just drink the water.”

Takumi scrunches his nose. But he’s too sick to think of a retort, so he shuffles up onto his forearms and finally takes his drink. And yeah, it’s nice, whatever. It doesn’t cure him or anything. But it’s about as tolerable as the crackers were.

It’s almost more irritating that Leo doesn’t give Takumi a haughty look, but instead just an average one. “You should probably sleep, too.”

Takumi scoots back into the covers. “I’m too tired to sleep.”

“Interesting. Any other hypocrisies you’d like to share?”

It’s a lot easier to deal with Leo when he’s being himself. “You’re such a pain.” Takumi barely knows what to do otherwise. Especially while he’s sick—which is also why Leo’s being weird, for sure, so this is just a useless situation all around.

Takumi does mean it when he says he’s too tired to sleep. It won’t work, plainly, he’s just stuck staring at the ceiling feeling miserable. He’d love to pass out and get better so then hopefully Leo will stop being nice to him because it’s intolerable—but he’s stuck conscious.

So, he flips around again, and also flips his pillow, and tries to look at the papers on Leo’s desk. “What are you working on, even?” he asks. Leo looks his way briefly, then sighs, finishing a sentence before he puts his quill down.

“It’s for Camilla,” he explains, rubbing his fingers absently. “It’s this orphanage program she’s trying to put forward. I’m giving her some financial estimates.”

Takumi blinks. “Oh yeah?” Takumi wouldn’t have guessed, exactly, but that’s not unexpected for Camilla. Leo nods.

“She’s always been interested in developing one. But… Ever since Siegbert was born, she’s just been—I don’t know. I wouldn’t call it baby fever, but it’s something similar.” And then Leo starts working again, just like that.

Takumi guesses it is pretty significant to have a baby around the palace. People were freaking out when Shiro was born, Takumi included. He’s still kind of freaking out about that. It’s been a little while now, though.

“Their other kid is close, right?” Takumi asks, then elaborates more. “Your brother and Laslow's.” Takumi’s met Siegbert a few times, and he’s cute, but it felt like he’d barely been around long before it was announced they were having another. Takumi doubts Ryoma’s going to have more, since Shiro’s already a rascal as a not-even-one year old. But Siegbert’s been calm whenever Takumi’s met him, so. Maybe that spurred them on.

“Quite,” Leo says. He looks away, out towards the door. “I wonder if you’ll be here when it’s born.”

Kids are something that seem really far away from Takumi. He’s too sick to even think about it long. It was crazy enough to suddenly have a nephew. There’s a weird way things have felt like they’re moving both faster and slower, now that there isn’t a war to worry about. And to be honest, Takumi’s not in the mood to go fast.

Leo tilts his head, looking thoughtful. “You know. I think Laslow might’ve gotten sick when he ate that fruit for the first time,” he says. “Maybe it’s something you acquire a tolerance to.”

Takumi, feeling right but way too sick to appreciate it, huffs. “Don’t feed it to me again, then.”

“You only gain tolerance by repeating the process, you know.”

“What if I’m just allergic? I don’t want it,” Takumi says back, not eager to experience this stomachache again. “I’m not sure I liked it enough to really want to try, anyway.”

Leo gives him a ghost of a grin, then gets back into his financial whatever. “I really think you should sleep,” he says. Takumi buzzes his lips and pulls the covers over him more.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, mind getting foggier by the second. He might be too tired not to sleep now, thank goodness. “Wake me up when the baby’s born.”

And—it’s kind of nice. The last thing Takumi hears before he drifts off is Leo’s light chuckle, and the sounds of quill on paper.

And he really, seriously, barely even thinks about the kid stuff.

[saetoru]

The way you write alhaitham is so dreamy 🥹

🥹🥹🥹🥹 u are dreamie i must kiss you 🥹🥹🥹🥹

[winter-jay-official]

jokes aside i hope ur day was good ^-^

this was funnier in my head i think

!!!!!! Hello eli finn moss mossbiin beloved <3

[dcxdpdabbles]

The Undead Florist

Anon said: Basically, I just wanted Danny to deliver flowers to the Justice League heroes from his fans. If you can include Everlasting Trio. U can add whatever crack you think would be best! Thank you!

Clark is in the middle of blocking a heat ray attack from a robot that copies the powers of any Justice League member when the unexpected happens. A kid, no older than fourteen, boldly walks into the battlefield carrying a lavish bouquet of red roses and trigger lilies.

He's dressed in a worker uniform: light brown khakis, a black shirt with a light-born vest, and a black baseball hat resting neatly on his head. There is a company logo on the upper right of his vest but Clark does not recognize the stylized D.

There was a still moment when Clark's super speed could see the exact second Amazo spotted the child. The boy wasn't paying attention, staring at his phone screen, which had the faint details of a map, and had two headphones in his ear.

Clark's eyes widen in horror, and he opens his mouth to try to shout a warning—though he doubts the kid could hear him over the loud music playing in his ear—but before he can, Amazo flung out an arm straight at the kid's head, still pinning Clark down with a cheap version of his own laser ray eyes.

No! No, please, he's so young! He pleads mentally, frozen in horror as the robot's hand goes right through the kid's head. It took a solid minute for Clark to realize that Amazo's hand hadn't ripped through the skull of the child but rather had passed through him as if the boy was not physically there.

From underneath a black baseball cap, brim, electric blue eyes stare at Amazo. Gesturing vaguely to the arm going through his head, the boy frowns. "Rude much?"

"Access: Black Canary," Amazo says in response, his jaw opening wider as a super-powered scream is released, pointing black at the kid's face.

The frown on the worker deepens as the boy reaches up and- slaps the android in the face? "Dude, I'm trying to work. I have like eight flower deliveries today. Also, that was a weak imitation. This is a real Ghostly Wail."

He opens his jaw, letting out a sound that wasn't as loud as Black Canary or Amazo but somehow worse.

And the sound—the unholy screech that releases from the child sends Clark to his knees, quivering in his boots as Amazo disintegrates right before his eyes. The only thing left of the android is a smothering pair of robotic legs that fall over with a loud thump.

The boy huffs, paying no mind to the fact that he took out the enemy the league had spent the last six hours fighting before Clark tried to lure it away from the city. He merely glances back at his phone, following the little moving icon on the map until he stands before the fallen hero.

"Hi! Are you Superman?" The kid asks in a polite, chipper tone. It's such a whiplash change between his normal voice and his customer service voice that it sets in. This is really just a Tuesday for him.

Clark opens and closes his mouth with a weak "Yes" and is pushed out.

The kid's smile grows as he pushes the flowers into his arms. Clark nearly drops the vase, scrambling to get a good hold of them as the kid pulls out a harmonica and plays a little jingle. It sounds like a mix between Happy Birthday and Ring Around the Roses.

Once he is done, the boy holds out his arms wide open and loudly proclaims, in a very obvious Transatlantic accent, which makes him sound... rather otherwordly: "These flowers are sent by your fan Kattie Longsmith in Metropolis, wishing to thank you for rescuing her mother and brother from a fire. She wants to remind you that she is your biggest fan and hopes you have a lovely day. Thank you for selecting the Undead Florist as your means of flora travel!"

With a theatric bow, the boy blinks out of existence.

Clark is left kneeling alone in a destroyed cornfield, beating black and blue, while holding a vase of lavished roses and lilies. He is unsure how long he will stay there, trying to process what he just saw as the Batplane flies onto the scene, Bruce jumping out of it with a cry of his name.

Batman growls upon taking in the scene before his friend rushes to his side. "What happened?"

"I ugh...I got a flower delivery." He manages to utter, eyes still trained on the spot of the strange kid.

"What?"

"Trust me, I'm as confused."

It turns out that Clark's delivery is not an isolated incident. Over the past three months, various Justice League members have reported similar interactions with the Undead Florist.

Flash got a bouquet while trying to stop Captain Cold. The kid had wandered in the middle of a fight, unfreezing the speedster to hand over yellow lilies and sunflowers from a little boy named Teddy Smith in Central City. He had melted the freeze ray that was shot at him while Barry was in the middle of a panic, thinking he would watch a child die.

One little jingle and message was delivered in a Transatlantic accent later, and the boy was gone without a trace again. Bruce had gone to the scene, trying to find anything that could give him some clue, but he disputed the clear picture of his face and the recording of his voice. Nothing about the boy came up in their systems.

Wonder Woman was next, receiving two large bouquets of roses from a fellow woman she had rescued named Trix Cooperman. Her jingle was slightly smoother jazz , and the message leaned towards romantic than gratitude from a fan, but the boy had delivered it nonetheless.

He also took out Cheetah with a well-placed punch, highly impressing Diana. He had the makings of a warrior.

Then Green Arrow, Green Lantern, Martian Man Hunter, Batman, Martian Man Hunter, Hawkgirl, Aquaman, Zatanna, and surprisingly Vigilante each got their own flower grams.

None of them were able to get any information about the child, seeing as he only appeared when the members were in the middle of a fight, which was driving Bruce mad.

Of course, they had tracked down all the clients but met a dead end when each claimed they had never placed an order with Undead Florist. Even when Diana was holding her rope, the people gave the same answer.

They had no idea why Undead Florist was delivering flowers in their name or where the message that came along with the flowers appeared from. The chilling part was that the messages did actively represent their emotions and feelings towards the heroes, but how the overpowered child knew that was left unanswered.

The other thing that bothered Bruce was that the Undead Florist only appeared when they were in battle.

"Maybe it's because he doesn't know how to find you otherwise," Nightwing suggested at the Justice League-wide meeting.

"He uses a GPS that is locked into the heroes." Batman grunts, not dismissing the suggestion but challenging it, which causes his eldest son to shrug.

"Undead could be following online tips or something. It's not like the Leauge is seen just strolling around the cities, but people tweak when they do happen to see us."

"We could test that. Have a group of heroes just relaxing at a cafe or something. See where he appears and if there is a pattern after monitoring social media." Red Robin suggests, rubbing his chin.

Batman considers it before nodding. "I shall divide the teams."

The Justice League goes out, doing as instructed, and sure enough, they find the Undead Florist appearing more and more. Red Robing happily puts together the pattern, pointing to social media generated by the younger generation's demographics.

Undead Florist is an actual teenager using DCtweets to find heroes to bring flowers to. They have enough proof of that to show he's harmless if one ignores his more than impressive battle skills.

"Now all we need to do is catch him," Clark announces. "We don't want to scare him, but the Justice League really needs to know how he's doing all of this. It could be a security risk."

Meanwhile, Danny chills in his haunt, watching Sam tend to the flowers in a large greenhouse he placed for her. Tucker is typing away on a ghost zone-powered supercomputer, looking at all the Soul orders their business is getting.

The Ghost Zone didn't have a formal currency; they had Deals instead. Even small unconscious deals—like wishing on a shooting star, throwing a coin in a fountain, or sending a prayer or two—could be turned into deals if a higher being encountered them.

Luckily for those people, Danny and his lovers are very kind higher beings and choose to complete their requests in a way that satisfies all of their obsessions without stealing souls.

Sam got to spread her greenery across worlds, Tucker got to spend time with tech from different universes and Danny was able to explore and protect the souls of humans.

That Danny could exchange these Soul orders for gold was no one business but their own.

"Ohhh, another order, Red Robin, from Universe Nine!" Tucker crows. "It's roses in the shape of a heart from Kon-el. Aw, he's in love with his best friend!"

"That's sweet." Danny smiles, leaning over his boyfriend's shoulder to read the message he must memorize when he struts into Gotham. "I know how much fun dating best friends is."

"Let's help those losers confess then!" Sam calls, raising her hands as roses of various colors burst to life around her.

[sunkissed-zegras]

🌱 jack soft launching you on insta

𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ warnings | nothing but cuteness and y/n being ICONICCCC

♡ ─ ev's notes | i love insta edits theyre so fun

jackhughes michigan

Liked by trevorzegras, lhughes_06, yourusername and 197,972 more

jackhughes | recently ☀️😎 tagged: lhughes_06, quinnhughes august 15th, 2023

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lhughes_06 | 😙😎😏

fan01 | WHAT.

fan02 | jack soft launching his girl on a random tuesday in august is so iconic help

↳ fan03 THIS RUINED MY NIGHT NOOOOOOOOO

↳ fan02 HELPPPPP JACK IS SO ICONIC (ive been screaming into my pillow for the last hour)

quinnhughes | wait thats such a good photo i wonder who took it???? 😎🤨

↳ lhughes_06 hmm... 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻🤷🏻‍♀️

↳ jackhughes i wonder who????? 😟

trevorzegras | no invite to the yacht IS CRAZY

trevorzegras | parents 🥳

↳ fan004 GUYS THIS ISN'T A DRILL

↳ fan005 good 😭😭😭 for😭😭😭 them😭😭😭😭😭

[pinned] yourusername | 😛🥸

↳ jackhughes 🫶🏼🩷

↳ fan06 HES EVEN USING THE PINK HEART YALL HES COOKED😭😭😭😭

yourusername

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yourusername | i told y'all i wasn't delulu 🥳 tagged: jackhughes, yourbestfriend august 20th, 2023

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yourbestfriend | SHE WAS NOT DELULU I WAS THERE!!!!

↳ yourusername she was!!!!!!!!!!

↳ fan06 guys... shes one of us

lhughes_06 | photo creds for that middle pic please and ty

↳ yourusername sorry king i will tag u as soon as i can 🫡🫡

↳ lhughes_06 also is ur friend single asking for a friend

↳ yourusername sigh...

fan007 | SHES CUTE GUYS

↳ fan08 im SOOOO happy for them🫠🫠🫠🫠

↳ fan09 i cried ngl

↳ fan08 thats so real😪

quinnhughes | 🫡

↳ yourusername 🫡🫡

trevorzegras | mama and papa 🫢

↳ yourusername ohhh... umm.. thats not...

↳ jackhughes our child 🫶🏼

↳ yourusername no

↳ jackhughes yes ur right no, get out trevor

↳ trevorzegras OH SO NOW U TAKE HER SIDE

↳ jackhughes oh yes, yes i am😄

fan10 | THAT SHOULD BE ME.

↳ yourusername the early bird gets the worm🤑

↳ jackhughes so im the worm now??

↳ yourusername yes with love👌🏼

↳ fan11 THEYRE SO FUNNY HELPPPP

↳ fan12 we approve jack, we approve this one🫡

↳ fan13 shes lowkey a baddie wait

↳ fan14 ngl i kinda want her now..... is that bad??

↳ jackhughes yes. shes mine💅🏻

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[hrtsdevils]

dog-eared. | jh86

summary reader and jack broke up before he was drafted to the nhl. after years of watching from afar, jack finally sees y/n in person. past feelings are brought up to the surface.

pairing jack hughes x fem!reader

wc 2.6k

an my lovers… also another gracie fc sorry idk what to tell you! also for the sake of the plot pretend that the devils play the ducks on tuesday instead of vancouver thanks!!! loosely based off of everywhere everything by noah kahan ft gracie abrams

It had been years since you’d seen Jack. You broke up right before he started his NHL career as it seemed like your plans didn’t align. You’d be going to college in California, as USC had been your dream school your whole life. You dreamed of living somewhere where it was sunny and it was never freezing, unlike the weather in your hometown of Toronto. He dreamed of making it big in the professional league, which he was so close to achieving already.

The breakup between you two was mostly mutual. It happened in your 2005 Honda Civic, in the parking lot of a gas station after you had gone to buy soft drinks. The two of you could feel the breakup impending, and it felt as if the weather channel told you a meteor would be hitting Earth within minutes. As if the sun was about to collapse. The silence was deafening as you started your car, putting your drink in the cup holder. He followed suit.

“I..” He started before you cut him off.

“You think we need to break up?” You asked, giving him a soft smile. It wasn’t genuine, it was quite the opposite. You just didn’t want him to feel guilty, you thought it was the right thing as well.

He nodded softly, “I just think we’re on two separate paths… you know?”

“Yeah, I get it.” Your hands tensed under your thighs, as you were using them as hand warmers. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Buttons.” That had been his nickname for you since the 8th grade. You had a perfect little button nose, and it quickly caught on and everybody would use it for you as well.

The drive back to his parents’ house was in silence, as neither of you had much to say to each other. In about ten minutes, you were parked in front of his house. “You’re still going to come to my birthday party, right?” You asked. You were turning eighteen in a few weeks, June 7th.

“Yeah, I will.” He smiled sadly, “It’s not over. We’re just separating until we get brought back together.”

You huffed, “When’s that? Whenever fate decides?”

“Precisely. Call it a dog ear.. you like to read, right?”

“Yeah, I would never doggy ear my books though.” You giggled, “Bye, Jacky.”

That was the last you talked formally. He never did come to your party, texting you an excuse about how he had a training camp that day. You didn’t believe it, but you never said anything about it. It had been years, you watched him succeed from your dorm room and then to your small apartment couch. Your roommates never understood your love for the sport, but you always attributed it to being from up north.

That was a reason, but not the only one.

Every year you anticipated the Devils coming down to Anaheim to play the Ducks. That was practically the only time you watched Jack in person. You were particularly excited this year, as his little brother Luke would be playing too. You adored Luke, he was so sweet and well-mannered, especially to you. Trevor would also be there. He wouldn’t be playing as he was injured, but you’d caught him after a few games to catch up and he was your little piece of Michigan in California.

It was a Friday game, which met that the tickets were slightly higher and there were fewer of them. You finally got your good friend, Cecilia, to agree to go with you. She was familiar with your love of hockey, and she knew you went to a lot of games. She didn’t know you knew two players on the ice, and two players up in the press box. As you were buying your tickets with her, you got a text from Trevor.

trevor zegras 🐣 : hey buttons r u coming to the game? idk cause jacks playing

You hastily replied, trying to shield your phone from Cece in the most subtle way possible.

y/n buttons : yeahhhh i was jst about to buy my tickets bahaha

trevor zegras 🐣 : don’t buy them ❌❌ i have a club ticket right above the benches if u want it

y/n buttons : usually yes i’d love to but i’m bringing my friend cece

trevor zegras 🐣 : i have 2! i’ll send em to u later

y/n buttons : thanks trev i appreciate u ☺️

You put your phone down and closed your laptop. Cece was a couple feet away on hers, but looked at you when your laptop snapped shut. “Did you buy them?” She questioned, scooting closer to you. You shook your head.

“Kind of? Well, one of my friends is on the team and he’s injured, he offered us seats right behind the bench.”

Her jaw fell slightly, “You never told me you had connections!”

You smiled, “I don’t really, I usually buy my tickets. This was a first time thing, I think he might be drunk.” You tried to explain it in the least suspicious way possible. You didn’t want to seem boastful, but an explaination had to come from somewhere.

You two discussed the arrangements for a couple minutes longer. From outfits to hair to transportation, you were more excited for this game than you had been for any others. Maybe it was because it was Jack’s team, or maybe it was because someone finally seemed to share your admiration for the sport.

Who knows, it was probably the latter.

The day came quick, as it was only a day or two out from your initial conversation. The tickets usually dropped in price right before the game, but luckily you didn’t have to spend the money on it regardless. You lended Cece a Zegras jersey that he got you, while you chose to wear an unnamed 30th anniversary jersey. You still had a few hoodies with Jack’s last name on the back, from his time with USNDTP, but you wouldn’t be wearing those tonight.

You arrived shortly before warm-ups, but when you looked at your section and seat numbers you realized Trevor wasn’t lying about you being right behind the bench. He just never mentioned that it was the away bench. You watched from your seat as the boys entered from the tunnel. They weren’t facing you, but you watched to make sure they didn’t turn around at least not now.

You managed to go a little while without being seen by Luke or Jack, that was until Cecelia got extremely into the game. The Devils had a goal in the late first period, opening up the scoring. Luke was sitting on the bench about a foot to the left of Cece, and once they scored she started banging on the glass.

As he stood up to cheer, he turned around due to the banging. The first thing he did was make eye contact with you. His eyebrows raised, and he blinked as if you’d disappear when his eyes opened. He didn’t say anything as you tried to avoid his gaze, and simply turned back around.

The game continued on, and you didn’t see him say anything to Jack. Soon enough, it was intermission and you felt safer. Like eyes weren’t on you anymore, even though they never were. It went by fairly quickly as the two of you watched the silly halftime games that usually were played by young children. As soon as the Devils came back through the tunnel, Jack turned around and looked at you. He kept sneaking glances as they warmed up again before the start of the second.

The rest of the game wasn’t as fun, as the brunette kept staring at you. As if you couldn’t go to hockey games, his hockey games. As if he couldn’t help looking at you. As if he missed you.

It didn’t help that Cece kept shouting at you, telling you that the cute one kept staring at you and that he wanted you. You knew her best interest was at heart, but she had no idea the magnitude of your situation with said cute one. You entertained her teasing of you, and how she kept pointing at you everytime Jack glanced your way.

By the end of the game you were over it. You wanted to escape and go home before the off chance that you ran into Jack actually happened. It was relieving when you got into the car, but startling when your phone lit up with a single message from Jack. Cece was giggling to herself, looking up one of the cute guys she saw on Instagram. She was oblivious to the situation

jack hughes : hi why were u there

You tried to think of an excuse, but eventually you realized it wouldn’t matter if you told the truth or not.

buttons 🩷 : because i was given tix my trevor.. and i go to a lot of ducks games

jack hughes : oh no other reason?

buttons 🩷 : u think i went for u?

jack hughes : maybe a little. sorry for bothering u buttons.

buttons 🩷 : don’t be sorry. how long are you in anaheim?

jack hughes : tonight n then flying up to seattle

buttons 🩷 : where r u staying?

It was a twenty minute drive back up to your apartment, but with your speeding it was around seventeen. Cece didn’t question your urgency as you dropped her off at your shared apartment, and left immediately after. She was a little bit tipsy. As you drove to the Marriott in Anaheim, you thought about what you were doing.

Throwing away years of peace for the same boy who disrupted it all those years ago. If you started to have feelings for him again, who knows how much you life could be uprooted? Everything could be ruined. All the progress and the getting over Jack. Your Jack. You knew you were risking your own personal journey by going to see him, but at this point you didn’t care.

The hotel receptionist was reluctant to let you up, as she knew who was staying there. The skepticism on her face was present from the very moment you walked in.

“Look, I know him and I know his room number, so can you just let me go up?” You pleaded with hed. Going to a room usually wasn’t necessarily an issue, the issue here was that a sports team was staying. She might’ve thought you were a crazy stalker fan.

As she was about to answer, Jack exited the elevator and spotted you talking to the receptionist. “She’s with me.” He told her, as he walked up to the desk. “Thanks, though.” You had texted him a minute prior about the receptionist, but you didn’t expect him to rush down.

“Hi.” You breathed as you made your way toward the elevator, “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good.” He stopped before the elevator, “Would you rather go for a drive? I’m sharing a room with Luke.”

Your story paused in a car, so you were unsure how this would turn out. Maybe it will be different this time. “Sure.” You replied softly.

You two walked to your car in silence. You were about to get in the driver’s seat, but he insisted on driving. “You should drive slow around here, there’s a bunch of cops at night because of drunk college students.” You chuckled, “I’ll tell you when you can speed.”

You buckled up, and he started your car. It was an upgrade from your Honda, being a more recent model of a Nissan. “So, why’d you come to the game?” He asked as he pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot.

“I go to a lot of Duck’s games. Trevor plays, of course I go watch him.” You started, “He offered me club tickets, and I figured they were behind his bench. They weren’t, obviously.”

“So you didn’t go for me?” He questioned once again, “I don’t believe that, Buttons.”

You rolled your eyes, “I kind of did. I’ve been while you were playing for the last three years, but I still like hockey in general.”

“I’ll believe that.” The silence sat for a little while as he drove 25 down the city roads, the radio wasn’t even playing. “Do you think we could’ve done long distance?”

You shook your head, “No, not then at least. That’s why we broke it off. Maybe now.” You said the last part quieter, just enough so that if he wasn’t paying attention he wouldn’t have heard it.

But of course he was paying attention. You were his everything before, and possibly even now.

“Now?” He questioned, “What do you mean by that?”

“When we broke up, you said our page was dog-eared. Bookmarked. It was more like a pause until we were ready and mature, or at least that’s how I took it.”

He smiled, “I remember that. Do you think we’re ready and mature?”

You shrugged, looking at him. “Maybe, just this semester and then I’m done. I chose to graduate a semester early. I could move back east, we could be closer. Even without I think we’d be mature enough for long distance.”

The chances of this moment happening just weeks before you graduated was an alignment of the stars in itself. This could be everything you wanted, without disrupting your peace.

“If you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me and Luke.” He offered, “To get on your feet, if you come back.”

“Maybe.” You hummed. His hand was resting on the gear shift, even though it was an automatic. You made a move to lay your hand on top of his, squeezing it gently.

It was a soft step in the right direction. A step to getting the love of your life back, which is what you’d wanted since the minute you broke it off. It’s been a long three years without him, he was your best friend and you intended to make up for the lost time soon enough. You wouldn’t bring up how he never contacted you either, because it was far in the past. You were both kids at the time and you can’t hold a grudge about that.

As he re-entered the hotel parking lot, you smiled at him. Your hands were now intertwined on top of the cup holder region, and you never wanted to let go. His hand was more rugged than before, matured and weathered, but it was still a comfort you had missed. He dropped it to shift the car into park.

“So, I’ll see you soon then?” He asked, as you got ready to get out. 45 minutes had passed between getting into the car and now. You conversed about your current life and your future. Your future together.

You nodded, “Yeah, hopefully. Keep in touch, okay? No ghosting me.” You stepped out of the car and walked around to the driver's side as he got out as well.

The two of you shared a hug, but exchanged little words. You could hear the cars around you, and the sounds of the city were still alive. “Bye, Jack.” You released him from your embrace.

“Bye, Buttons.” He smiled, “I’ll text you.” He turned around and walked back to the hotel as you watched, a smile gracing your features as well.

You’d love him forever, whether you got back together or not. You believed he felt the same. You were glad that Trevor had known about the seating on the tickets, and made sure they got to you. You were also glad Luke saw and recognized you. You were excited to see him. The end was over, and the new start was just beginning.

[wqnwoos]

jeonghan thinks you’re adorable.

sure, he only really sees you every tuesday and thursday at 8 in the morning, but he thinks you’re adorable. with your cute little colour-coded notes and your pastel highlighters and organised pencil case — how could he not?

especially when he compares it with himself — he’s lucky if he even remembers a notebook. and if he does, he doesn’t actually take notes with it. that’s asking too much. instead, his pages are filled with mindless doodles and random reminders.

his lack of educational interest doesn’t stop him from leaning over in his seat in class today, though. “psst.”

you look at him, slightly confused, pointing to yourself in question. me?

he nods eagerly, pleased to have got your attention after two weeks of sitting next to you — and suddenly realises that he doesn’t even have anything to say. speaking to you was a spontaneous thing! “hey — can i borrow a pen?” he asks finally, tilting his head towards the many that you have.

immediately, you’re nodding. “sure! do you like black or blue?” you pause, rifling through your pencil case. “i have purple too, if you want that!”

his smile stretches, amused. “black is fine.”

your hands brush when you give him the pen, and — observant as he is — jeonghan sees the way you jolt slightly at the contact. your flustered expression makes the corner of his mouth tilt slightly, unfolding a smirk. “thanks, sweetheart.”

and if you let out a small noise of surprise at the nickname, jeonghan chooses to ‘not hear’ it, hiding his smile as he turns back to his notebook. but far from doing something useful with the newly acquired pen, he instead scrawls a small tic-tac-toe grid — and then rips out the page, sliding it over to you smoothly.

you had been paying great attention to the professor at the front of the room, but when you see the paper, a smile lifts your lips. (jeonghan thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.)

you cast one nervous look towards the professor; but within the next ten minutes, you guys have filled up a page with wordless tic-tac-toe games, only muffled giggles filling the space between you whenever jeonghan finds a way to cheat. which he always does; only because he loves to see the cute little furrow in your brow when you realise he’s taken up two spaces in one turn, or carefully twisted your circles into crosses.

and then, just as the professor is wrapping up the lecture, jeonghan slides another, smaller piece of paper over to you. you unfold it carefully —

coffee after? i think i owe you for my crimes :)

you have to bite down hard on your lip to stop the giddy smile spreading too wide across your face — but it comes out anyway when you meet jeonghan’s hopeful eyes and nod.

and it comes out once more when, as you’re packing away your things and jeonghan is waiting next to you, a blue ballpoint pen falls out his pocket.

“wait — you had a pen all along?” your eyes widen with realisation.

jeonghan only smirks, stuffing it back in his pocket. “i have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

an / dedicated to the angel @ikigaiox. u know exactly why <3 thank you for reading!! also i’ve never called it tic-tac-toe before today 😭 i’ve always called it noughts and crosses?

[enhahooninurwindow]

ENHYPEN WHEN THEIR S/O IS INSECURE

Pairing: enhypenOT7 x reader 🍓MASTERLIST

Genre: fluff

Wc: 250+ per member

a/n: I’ve written a few sentences in third person grammar bc I was saying all this in my head and maybe I typed it in like that sorryyy. Also I wrote this based on some of my insecurities so I hope it helps other insecure people too <3

Tuesday, 19 March. 2024

Heeseung - acne

 "Hey beautiful, what's on your mind? You seem a bit off." Heeseung asked you noticing ur face getting dull. "I can't help feeling insecure about my acne. It's been bothering me a lot lately." you reply, not aware of Heeseung heart getting heavy hearing this. "Baby, please, your acne doesn't change how amazing you are to me. You're more than your skin, you're everything I love and cherish." he gently brushes ur hair back and continues, "Your kindness, intelligence, and laughter light up my world. Don't let a few blemishes dim your shine." Smiling softly, you say "Thank you for always being so understanding and supportive. I'm grateful to have you by my side." “You don't have to thank me, love. It's my privilege to be here for you, no matter what. Together, we'll overcome any insecurities and grow stronger. You mean everything to me, and I want you to see yourself through my eyes. You're not defined by any imperfections; you're defined by your resilience, your compassion, and the love you bring into my life every day. I cherish every moment with you, and I wouldn't change a single thing about you." He wraps his arms around u, pulling u into a warm embrace, and whispers, "I promise to always remind you of your worth and beauty, even on the toughest days. You're the love of my life." Feeling comforted you reply "I love you so much hee. Thank you for loving me unconditionally and seeing the best in me, even when I struggle to see it myself." "Forever and always, my love. We'll navigate through any challenges together, and I'll never stop reminding you of just how extraordinary you are." he replied.

Jay - stretch marks

 "Y/nah are u alr?? You seem unwell." jay asked you taking a seat on the edge of the bed while u faced ur mirror. "I've been feeling really insecure about my stretch marks. I can't help but think they make me less attractive."  "Oh baby, your stretch marks don't change a thing about how beautiful you are to me. They're a part of you, a testament to your strength and journey. I admire and love every part of you, including your so-called imperfections." He gently takes ur hands and continues, "Your kindness, your laughter, and the way you light up a room are what truly make you stunning. Don't let anyone or anything make you doubt that." Tearing up you say “Thank you for saying that. I needed to hear it from you." "I mean every word, my love. I'll always be here to remind you of your worth and to shower you with the love and admiration you deserve. You're perfect in my eyes, stretch marks and all." He softly kisses ur forehead and whispers, "You're not just beautiful; you're extraordinary. These marks are like a map of our journey together, each one a reminder of the moments we've shared and the love that has grown between us. I cherish every part of you, including these marks that tell your unique story." As u hold each other, he plants gentle kisses on ur cheeks and continues, "Let me show you how much I adore you, not despite your marks but because of them. They're a part of what makes you the incredible person I fell in love with. You're my everything, and I'll always treasure and celebrate every inch of you."

Jake - nose shape

As you both cuddled on the couch, Jake noticed a hint of sadness in ur eyes. "Is everything okay, love?" he asked gently. You hesitate before admitting, "I've always felt insecure about my nose. I wish it were smaller and cuter like others." The jake's heart sank, hearing ur words. He pulled u closer, wrapping his arms around u. "Your nose is perfect," he whispered, planting a soft kiss on the tip of ur nose. "It's unique, just like you. I love everything about it because it's a part of you." Feeling ur tense muscles relax under his touch, he continued, "You're the most beautiful person I know, inside and out. Your smile, your eyes, and yes, even your nose, they all add to your beauty. I wouldn't change a thing about you." His loving embrace and words of affirmation melted ur insecurities away. U nestled into his chest, feeling safe and loved. In that moment, u realized that his acceptance and affection were what truly mattered, and his love was the most beautiful thing in the world. He looked into ur eyes with utmost sincerity and said, "You are my everything. Your beauty radiates from within, and every little detail about you is what makes me fall in love with you more each day. Your nose is not just cute; it's uniquely yours, and that's what I adore about it. I promise to always remind you of how special you are and to cherish every part of you, no matter what insecurities may arise." He sealed his words with a tender kiss on ur forehead, reaffirming his unwavering love and devotion to u.

Sunghoon  - bloated stomach

At first, when u told him about u being insecure of ur bloated stomach, sunghoon felt a mix of confusion and concern. He wasn't sure how to react at first, as he hadn't anticipated this vulnerability from u. However, as he saw the distress in u eyes, he realized that what u needed most was his understanding and support. Taking ur hands gently in his, he looked into ur eyes with a reassuring smile. "You're beautiful just the way you are," he began, his voice filled with sincerity. "Your body is incredible, and it's natural for it to go through changes. Your bloated stomach doesn't change how I feel about you. I love every part of you, including your imperfections." He pulled u into a comforting embrace. "You're so much more than your appearance," he continued, pressing a kiss to ur forehead. "Your clinginess, unseriousness, and your loving nature are what truly makes u special." Feeling the warmth of his embrace and hearing his words of affirmation, u felt a wave of relief wash over. U leaned into him, grateful for his unwavering support and love. In that moment, u realized that his acceptance and understanding were the most precious gifts u could ever receive. As the evening came, he made sure to shower u with small acts of love and kindness, like preparing ur favorite snacks and playing ur favorite music. He encouraged u to relax and enjoy the moment, letting go of any worries or self-doubt. With each loving gesture and heartfelt word, he reinforced his commitment to uplifting ur spirits and making u feel cherished.

Sunoo - smile

Sunoo's eyes widened with surprise and concern as he listened to u express ur insecurity about ur smile. "Wait, what? Your smile is one of the most beautiful things about you!" he exclaimed, his voice reflecting genuine dismay. You looked down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. "I know, but sometimes I feel like it's not as perfect as yours or others," u admitted softly. His expression softened as he reached out to gently lift ur chin, making u look into his eyes. "Hey, listen to me," he said earnestly. "Your smile is unique and genuine, and that's what makes it so special. It's not about perfection; it's about the happiness and warmth it brings to everyone around you, especially to me." He pulled u into a comforting hug, planting a kiss on ur forehead. "I hate seeing you doubt yourself like this. You're amazing in every way, and I wouldn't change a thing about you, especially not your beautiful smile." You felt tears of gratitude welling up in ur eyes as u hugged him back tightly. "Thank you for understanding and for always being there for me," u whispered. He smiled warmly, brushing away ur tears. "Always, my love. I'll remind you every day of how incredible you are and how much I adore your smile, no matter what." After a deep conversation, he suggested a cozy evening of self-care to lift ur spirits. You both snuggled up on the couch with fluffy blankets and soothing music playing in the background. He lovingly applied a gentle face mask on ur face, making u giggle at his playful antics.

Jungwon - body shape

As Jungwon noticed subtle signs of distress, he approached u with gentle concern. "Is everything okay, love?" he inquired, his voice soft and caring. You paused before finally sharing ur feelings. "I've been feeling insecure about my body shape lately," u confessed, ur tone tinged with vulnerability. He listened attentively, offering a reassuring smile and a comforting hand on ur shoulder. "You are absolutely perfect just the way you are," he reassured u, his words sincere and heartfelt. "Your beauty goes far beyond any external appearance. Your kindness, intelligence, and resilience make you truly extraordinary." He then suggested you spend some quiet time together, away from any distractions. You both went for a peaceful walk in nature, enjoying the serenity and beauty around you. Along the way, he continued to uplift u with words of encouragement and admiration. With each step, u felt a sense of comfort. You realized that ur Jungwon's love wasn't based on superficial standards but on a deep appreciation for who u were as a person. In his quiet and steady presence, u found the strength to embrace ur body with newfound confidence, knowing that u were cherished and valued just as u were. As u walked hand in hand, he pointed out the beauty of nature around u. He gently reminded u that just like the diverse flowers and trees you saw, each with its unique shape and form, ur body was a reflection of ur own unique beauty. "You are like a masterpiece created by nature," he said with a soft smile. "Every curve and line tells a story of strength, resilience, and beauty."

Niki - not feeling worthy of his love

Niki noticed a hint of sadness in ur eyes one evening as you both strolled through the park. Sensing ur unease, Niki wrapped his arm around ur shoulders and asked, "What's on your mind, my love?" You waver, fiddling with ur fingers before finally blurting out, "Sometimes I feel like I'm not enough for you." Niki's playful grin softened into a gentle smile as he pulled u closer. "Oh, sweetheart, you are more than enough for me. You're the melody to my laughter, the color in my world, and the love that fills my heart." You looked up at him, ur eyes searching for reassurance. "But what if I can't always make you happy or meet your expectations?" Niki chuckled softly, brushing a hair from ur face. "My love, happiness isn't about meeting expectations; it's about being together, sharing moments, and embracing each other's quirks. You make me happy just by being you." Tears of relief glistened in ur eyes as u leaned into Niki's comforting embrace. "I love you," u whispered. "I love you more," Niki replied, planting a tender kiss on ur forehead. Niki continued to shower u with affection and playful gestures, reminding u daily of ur worth and importance in his life. Your bond grew stronger as u navigated challenges together, embracing each other's strengths and vulnerabilities. You no longer doubted ur place in Niki's heart, finding solace in your love. In that moment, you knew that Niki's playful nature came with a deep understanding and unconditional love, making u feel cherished and truly enough.

[gardenofnoah]

i’m coming up on a year of having this blog and i thought i’d do something with this drabble that i can’t stop thinking about so. yeah! thanks for reading my little stories and saying such nice things to me for a whole year <3 love u 

summary: in his 40s, touya isn’t expecting anything outside of his normal, comfortable routine. you come along and give him far more than he ever wanted. oddly enough, he doesn’t think he minds. 

tags: MDNI, i’ll call this a medium burn, mentions of drinking, reader uses she/her pronouns and is called a lady,etc, age gap (unspecified but like 10 years--both are consenting adults), very little angst (like, the least i’ve ever written. this is just cute, if you can believe that.), smut (dry humping, oral), this is very much a comfort fic to me idk. wc: 10.1k

much to his utter disdain, Touya sees you everywhere after your first encounter. and often. 

you have this awful habit of just popping up. in the stool next to him at the bar, with such regularity that his friends now joke about it being your stool, and then around town—everywhere he goes. it’s a small town, sure—but he still finds it ridiculous. even more ridiculous—the fact that you might be growing on him, despite all his resistance. 

he doesn’t know when he started expecting you to hop up on that stool every friday. has no idea when he memorized your drink order, or when he started ordering it for you preemptively. this goes on every friday for weeks—until you don’t show up.

and he’s irritated then, because it makes him sore—where else could you possibly be? 

“where’s your girl?”

“don’t know,” he mutters. he catches the smirk on his friend’s face out of the corner of his eye. “and she’s not my fuckin’ girl.”

that makes him laugh, and Touya turns away in a huff, face burning. 

“sure she’s not.”

it’s another two weeks before he sees you. not that he was counting. 

when he sees you again, it’s a tuesday, and he’s just wrapped up at his neighbor’s house. he carries two loaves of bread in one arm, and his toolbox in the other. the old woman had chased him out of there early, telling him, “it’s a nice night. go out there and find you someone!”.  he snorts, kicking a bit of asphalt down the pavement. that old bat acts worse than his mother. 

there are a few vendors lined up along the road, so he lets himself take his time—strolling casually, eyes raking over the stalls. it is a nice evening—warm, but the breeze is cool as it rustles through his hair. he sees a white tip from the corner of his eye and it almost startles him. it doesn’t matter how much distance he puts between himself and Dabi—it still surprises him when he realizes that he is not the same. physically or otherwise. 

lost in his thoughts, he finds himself nearly home when he sees you in his peripheral, taking something from the merchant of the produce stall across the street. he has half a mind to turn and walk the opposite way (away from his house) just to avoid this interaction—still wholly irritated over wasting the $7 on your stupid little drink, and that’s all—but you seem to have a weird sixth sense when it comes to him, and your head snaps up in his direction right before he can make a break for it. you give him that stupid smile that he has to look away from, waving at him happily before you take off in his direction. 

he considers if he still has time to flee, but then you’re there in front of him. 

“Touya!” you beam up at him, totally ignoring the scowl he levels you with, “what are you doing here?”

“i live here,” he grumbles, looking away from you again, “what are you doing here?”

“ah, i visit my family on tuesdays. whatcha got there?” 

he pointedly looks down at the bread in his arms, and back up at you. you’re looking at it a little too intensely, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re trying to figure something out—and then the moment’s gone, and you’re smiling up at him again. 

“want to share?” you ask, holding up your bag of produce to him. 

he doesn’t, but he finds himself next to you anyway, sitting on a retaining wall while you chatter away—kicking your feet out and handing him slices of an orange between your own bites. 

he learns more about you. early 30s (so not as young as he’d guessed, but still young enough to make him cringe), living alone like he is. you grew up in town, moved away for a while, and then came back. you don’t really like sweets but you do like fruit—hence the overflowing tote bag full of it—and you’re more inclined to reach for tea than coffee. you own the little flower shop a few blocks down. he thinks it suits you—and then he shakes his head, trying to dislodge the thought. 

“i’m having an issue with the floor though, so part of the shop has been blocked off for a few weeks. not great for the foot traffic, but what can you do,” you shrug absentmindedly, more focused on digging another piece of fruit out of your bag. you settle on a peach, and it’s quiet between you for a beat. as if waiting for the silence, the thought that he’d been holding back for the better part of an hour finds its way out of his mouth. 

“haven’t seen you at the bar,” he mutters, picking a stringy bit of peel off the orange piece he’s been holding. 

“huh? oh, yeah. i had a wedding order that i was working on. it was so….much,” you shudder like you went off to war instead. “why, did you miss me?”

he looks away, eyes narrowed in a scowl. “just was a waste of a drink, s’all.”

he regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. 

“a drink? my—oh. wait.”

your eyes go wide—he should’ve known you’d catch on to the meaning behind his words and he wants to die—

“forget it—“

“Touya,” you cut him off, and he can hear your shit eating grin, “were you hoping to see me?”

he’s sure he’s gone bright red and resists the urge to recede into himself like a snail into a shell. now he’s irritated, because did you think your drink just magically appeared in front of you every friday? he can feel the smugness radiating off of you—you want him to say it. he huffs, still looking away from you. 

“just…was a waste of money,” he grits out, knowing fully that he hasn’t worried about money in quite some time, “figured you’d be there.” 

you hum, and he still can’t look at you. refuses to, actually. 

“sorry, Touya,” you tell him, and it sounds so genuine that he finds himself turning to you, just to check—to make sure you’re not fucking with him. “i’ll be sure to let you know the next time i won't be there.” 

he rolls his eyes at the way you’re smiling softly at him, always like you know something he doesn’t. he mumbles out a clipped “whatever” and he hates the way he sounds like he did when he was 23. you don’t pay it any mind though, right back to talking his ear off. 

“so do you live, like, really alone? or do you have a pet? you strike me as a gerbil guy.” 

he huffs out a laugh at that, caught wholly off guard at the thought of being the gerbil guy (have you seen him?) and you smile at the sound, clearly pleased with yourself. 

“no gerbil. a dog,” he finally takes a bite of the orange he’s been cradling in his palm for the better half of the last 20 minutes. your eyes don’t leave him. 

“mm. chihuahua,” you say solemnly, and he whips his head around to look at you, expression all twisted and incredulous. 

“a big fuckin’ dog, you brat.” 

you laugh at his outburst, seeming to get some sort of pleasure out of riling him up. 

“can i meet him?” 

he looks at you then, and you’re really laying it on thick—wide eyes blinking up at him, bottom lip jutted out in a little pout. he can’t find it in himself to say no to you. with a sigh, he pushes himself up from the wall. 

“c’mon then.” 

it’s a short walk to his place and you’re vibrating behind him. shoving his key into the lock, he hears the familiar thumping of a tail, at about the same frequency as your incessant excitement at his back—he wonders just what he’s done to attract this level of energy. 

“wait a minute—he’s going to jump at you—“

“oh, who cares. let me see him!” 

he shakes his head, swinging open the door. he sees his big oaf of a dog rear up to jump, and then—

and then his jaw drops, because for what may very well be the first time, his dog is suddenly sitting. 

you squeal and the dog isn’t much better off—practically wiggling away from his spot on the floor and whining at the sight of you, but still sitting. 

“Touya!” you laugh, shoving past him to throw your arms around the dog’s neck, squeezing him tightly, “i know this dog!”

“you—huh?” 

“i—“ your own laugh cuts you off, giggling while the dog fights your grip to lick you directly on the face, “i know him! did you get him at the shelter in town?”

“…yeah?”

“oh man! i used to volunteer—i was there when he was dropped off. i was with him all the time—taught him some manners—but then i took that job out of town for a little bit, so i didn’t get to see him after that.” 

Touya, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his dog is sitting, can’t bring himself to formulate a coherent reply. 

“oh, i was so worried about him,” you say quietly, hugging the dog tighter, “i’m really glad you have him. what did you name him?”

that snaps him out of it, and he looks away, sheepish. 

“i—uh. didn’t.” 

you blink at him, processing, and then you frown. 

“are you kidding me?”

he shrugs, looking at the dog— who, also for the first time, seems to be glaring at him with the same sentiment. 

you sigh, shaking your head. “that won’t do,” you mutter, more to the dog than to him. “i think i called him Buck.” 

as if on cue, Buck’s tail thumps against the floor. 

“why?” 

“not sure,” you say, scratching behind a fuzzy ear, “he just reminded me a little bit of a deer.” 

Touya scoffs, completely in the dark as to how the two were even remotely similar. 

“alright. Buck it is, then.” 

you smile, patting the dog on the head as if he’d done anything worth rewarding. with a sigh you get to your feet, stretching a bit. 

“i really do have to go see my family now,” you tell him, and he swears he hears a tiny bit of regret in your voice, “but thanks for letting me see Buck.” 

he only nods, watching you bend down to kiss Buck square on his stupid blockhead. 

“see you Friday?”

he swallows thickly, nodding again. your eyes are too bright. 

“okay. see you, Touya.” 

“hey,” he stops himself from reaching for you as you go to open the door, “i can…look at that floor for you. if y’want.” 

every time he thinks he’s used to the way you just throw your emotions around like live grenades, he’s not—you smile at him so brightly he thinks you might just kill him. 

you have a hunch that Touya is secretly a really good guy. 

it’s almost endearing—how hard he tries to be so prickly—but it’s always all for naught, because he can’t help but go out of his way to do things for you. 

you don’t know what to call the relationship—you gathered enough information from hushed whispers to his friends anytime he left his stool at the bar to know that he pointedly did not seek out the affections of women (“or men,” one of his friends said with a shrug, like they weren’t really sure). you weren’t clear on where that left you, so you were content to keep learning what you could about him—to stick around, as long as he tolerated you. 

and he just barely does that, but you have a hunch it’s a farce. especially when take out cups full of freshly steeped tea start appearing on your counter in the shop, more days than not.

you lean against the wood top, sipping today's tea with both hands to warm yourself while you watch Touya work. autumn was in full swing now, and you had some difficulty keeping the shop to your preferred level of warmth, but it didn’t seem to bother him. your eyes linger on the hem of his old t-shirt, rising up in the back just a little when he reached for a different tool. it was obvious that time had softened him a bit, but he was still in shape. your vision followed the faded, looping scar that moved with the curl of his bicep as he worked each tool. it was hard not to stare. 

it was even harder to get away with it. 

“you’ll burn a hole in my head, brat.” 

“just checking your work,” you tell him through a grin. trying very hard to feign nonchalance.

“oh yeah?” Touya looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you. you feel it bodily. “what’s the verdict?” 

“looks….” you pause, examining the array of tools and the sizable hole he’s created in the floor, “yeah. yep. like good work.”

he scoffs, shaking his head and turning back to the task at hand. you resist the urge to slam your head off the counter—settling for tapping in lightly as reprimand for your less than intelligent response. 

you decide that the best way to get the embarrassment to dissipate is to do the thing that is quickly becoming your favorite activity: bothering him. 

“pick a color.” 

“what?”

“i said pick a color, grandpa.”

the sigh he lets out makes you laugh. “you fuckin’—fine. red. what’re you doing?” 

you smile at him, and you watch him flush. it makes you giddy. 

“nothing,” you drawl, sing-songy and incriminating, “don’t you worry your little heart about it.” 

“you are the worry to my little heart,” he deadpans, not bothering to look up from the measurement he’s taking. 

another thing you learn about Touya—he’s got a bit of a (dry) sense of humor. he seems to enjoy making you laugh.

there’s a lull in customers and you use it to your advantage—you go around to every bucket to ensure that each cut stem is submerged, and take out the wilted ones to dry. you don’t sell those ones—you just hang them up around the shop. you think it’s better not to waste them. 

you also pull out some good looking red ones, as inconspicuous as you can—you gather a tulip, a few poppies, a peony, and a big, variegated chrysanthemum for the center. 

you hold the makeshift bouquet behind your back as you approach Touya—padding over to him quietly until you’re close enough to lean into his space. 

“whatcha thinking about?” 

he spares you a pointed glance over his shoulder. “pest control.” 

“har har,” you plop down right next to him, grinning at the way he bristles. of course it’s all for show—he doesn’t move an inch. 

“made you something.” 

“hm?”

you bring the bouquet out from behind your back, brandishing it in front of him dramatically. “tada!”

his eyes go wide—you see it take a minute for him to process that you’re giving him a gift. he sets his tools down and reaches for it, tentatively, like you’re going to fake him out at the last second. you meet him halfway, setting it in his hands. 

“well?” you ask after a minute, “what do you think? i do pretty well, right?” 

he’s quiet—turning the flowers over and back again, like he’s committing all of the little petals to memory. “what are they?”

you tell him about each flower—where they grow naturally, what conditions they like to live in, how to take care of them. he listens intently, never looking away from them. 

“you don’t have to keep them,” you tell him after another moment of silence, “it was just a silly thing.”

“no,” he says, firmly. he looks at you out of the corner of his eye and lets out a breath, looking back down at the flowers. “s’nice. thanks.” 

you have to physically stop yourself from jumping up and cheering. 

“you’re welcome, old man,” you murmur, nudging his shoulder with your own.

he groans, grumbling a lighthearted “get away from me” as he shoves you back playfully. you let out some sort of dramatic squeal as you topple over, and you don’t miss the tiny smile that stretches across his face as he sets the flowers down next to him and gets back to work. 

customers come in and out throughout the afternoon—most not paying any mind to Touya as he works. there are a few customers that eye him hesitantly—and there are one or two that stare pointedly at the scars that split his face. it feels like second nature to drop the customer service persona then—and to do things like drop their change on the counter and revel in the way they scramble to catch it before it rolls off onto the floor. 

“have the best day,” you say to one particularly rude customer, all but shooing her out of the door. 

Touya huffs out a laugh when you walk back toward him. “didn’t think you had it in you, kid.” 

you cock an eyebrow at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“surprised you didn’t kick out her kneecaps on the way out.” 

“yeah, well,” you huff, waving a hand at the thought of someone so dreadfully rude, “she would’ve deserved it.” 

“why’s that?”

you meet his eyes, then, and for the first time since you met him you think about the fact that they’ve seen terrible things. you knew of Touya, of course—all of Japan did. you knew he’d been through something awful and did things that you couldn’t imagine the man in front of you doing now. you know that he would not be surprised if you told him the reason why you felt she deserved it. you wonder if it bothers him the way it bothers you, or if time has hardened him to his own mistreatment. 

“don’t worry about it,” you tell him, walking back behind the counter. 

you haven’t seen much of Touya for the last few weeks. 

you’d gotten another big order—what would probably be one of the last before winter really set in— so you were busy. he’d stop by sometimes with the excuse of checking the floor (and always with a tea for you in hand), but you learn that he’s uncomfortable with lingering, and he’s usually gone as quickly as he came. 

you don’t mind—it’s nice to know he’s thinking of you. you’ve just been wondering if it’s in the way you want him to—and a lot more than you should be, lately. 

you concede to having a little crush on him. who wouldn’t? he’s incredibly sweet in his own way and very nice to look at and you suppose anyone would if they’d gotten the opportunity to get to know him over the several months that you have. so what if you’re thinking about where he’s at or if he’s eaten lunch or if he’s at the bar without you, more often than not? it’s just a little secret you keep to yourself.

you try not to think about how it’s one that would make him never speak to you again if he found out about it. 

you let out a groan, looking down at the half-formed bundle of alstroemeria and eucalyptus in your hands. you’d been staring at it for 20 minutes now and the motivation to continue just wasn’t coming. you suppose it was as good of a time as any to take a break. 

standing up from the floor and stretching your arms above your head, your spine rewards you with a few satisfying pops as you get yourself moving again. your eyes scan the shop, surveying the damage—most of it caused by you in the last few weeks, with scraps of paper wrap and loose stems strewn about. the shop could definitely use a deep cleaning, but little things like that were just part of routine upkeep, so you don’t mind. it’s only when you roll out your neck that you spot it: a tiny, but noticeable, brown stain on the ceiling that certainly wasn’t there before. you lift your phone above your head to snap a picture of it. 

sent 5:57pm>>> hi. do you think this is a big deal

received 5:59pm>>> looks like water damage

received 5:59pm>>> when did that happen?

sent 6:00 pm>>> not sure. just saw it

sent 6:00 pm>>> if i just pretend it’s not there will it go away?

received 6:01 pm>>> that ever worked for you before?

sent 6:04 pm>>> i don’t like your tone 

received 6:06 pm>>> cry about it. i’ll be over to look at it tomorrow

you smile at his brashness, setting your phone down on the counter. it really was very hard to not be enamored by him. you shake your head, trying to get rid of the thought like a wrong  answer in a magic 8 ball. you have no such luck, but you realize what time it is and feel relieved. It’s tuesday—you can finally start getting ready to see your family. 

you clean up and pull on the spare coat you have in the shop storage room, locking the shop door behind you as you leave. your grandparents don’t live far—just a mile or so down the road, and it’s not too cold to walk yet, so you don’t mind the trek. 

you have a standing weekly visit at your grandparents’ place. they’re just about the only family you have left, and they’re slowing down a bit. it’s meaningful to you to spend time with them when you can—even if your grandmother insists on filling it with her insistence that you find a boyfriend.

you know she means well, so you tolerate it. your grandparents’ love story is one for the ages—high school sweethearts, together and in love ever since. the dynamic is an amusing one—your grandmother, ever the chatterbox, and your grandfather, only ever amused and endeared by his wife’s inherent ability to take up space. you have always really admired their relationship, but a small part of you believed for a long time that there was something wrong with you for not being able to have the same thing. now that you’re older, you don’t feel that way—but that doesn’t make being on the receiving end of the badgering any easier. 

like you’ve summoned her with your thoughts, she’s on the front stoop when you approach the house—hand already on her hip like she’s winding up to start her lecture.

“i was starting to think you wouldn’t come!”

“am i late?” you ask genuinely, pulling your phone out to check the time. 6:26pm—you’re early. 

“you might as well be!” she quips, pulling you into a hug. you can smell dinner cooking through the open window behind her. you close your eyes, content to be held in the moment. you miss this feeling of home every time you leave—

“alright you old bat, s’fixed. you gotta quit dumping cooking oil down the—oh.”

your eyes snap open at the familiar voice and you find blue eyes staring back at you, shocked as you’ve ever seen them. you blink, still mid-embrace and trying to comprehend why Touya is standing in your grandmother’s doorway. or why he’s a little sweaty and dirty and wearing that tight old t-shirt. if he’s always worn a bandana to keep the hair out of his eyes, or if that’s a new thing and either way, why haven’t you seen it? it takes another long minute before you remember how to get words to come out of your mouth. 

“i–uh. hi...hi Touya.” you stutter a little, and your grandmother notices that you’ve gone completely rigid in her arms. she pulls away to look at you, and then at Touya, and back to you—

and your stomach drops when you see the most shit eating grin spread across her face. 

you give her your best you wouldn’t dare look. 

she just smiles at you sweetly as if to say: i absolutely would.

“do you have dinner plans, Mr. Todoroki?”

he blinks. “i–uh–”

“no? excellent. go wash up! you can join us.”

she starts back up to the door with more pep in her step than you’ve seen in a long time, patting Touya’s shoulder before shoving him unceremoniously to the side with surprising strength and walking back into the house. 

you’re left out there together, both clearly still trying to play catch up. true to your nature, you’re the first to break the silence.

“i see you’ve met my grandmother,” you say with a laugh, starting up the steps. he shakes himself in time to open the door for you.

“you’re related to that dinosaur?”

you pin him with your best glare. “that’s not nice. she came after the dinosaurs.”

he follows in after you, the smallest smirk on his face. that you caused it makes your chest feel light. 

dinner is relatively tame. to your genuine surprise, your grandmother sticks to easy topics, save for one comment about how you’re “getting up there” and should start thinking about children. 

“oh my god, Mam,” you squeeze the bridge of your nose, exasperated. you look to Touya for help—who is clearly very amused and not interested in saving you from this. 

“i’m just saying,” you grandmother waves a dismissive hand at you, “now who wants dessert?”

you leave the house a few hours later—with Touya in tow, because he refused to let you walk home in the dark by yourself. you certainly don’t mind the company.

“i can’t believe i didn’t put it together that you knew my grandparents,” you say, shaking your head. no wonder those bread loaves, months ago now, had looked so familiar. 

“been helpin’ them out with maintenance stuff around the house,” he mutters, the hands in his pockets the only indication that he feels the evening chill, “they’re good people.”

the way that he talks about them makes you feel warm. “i’m really happy to hear that,” you sigh. you bump into him, and he stays close. “i’m sorry you have to put up with all of my grandmother’s antics though.”

he huffs a laugh, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “s’not so bad. except maybe when she’s trying to arrange a marriage for me with half the town.”

“oh god,” you turn to him in absolute horror, “she does that to you, too? i thought it was just because i’m her grandkid. she really wants to have great grandkids.”

he laughs when you shudder. “what, you’re not gonna give ‘em to her?”

you make a face at that. “no. kids are great, just…not really something i ever wanted.”

you think you see him physically deflate with something akin to relief out of the corner of your eye. you smile and try not to read into it. 

the wind picks up and you shiver. Touya blinks down at you.

“you didn’t think to wear a thicker coat?”

you roll your eyes pointedly at him. “no, dad, i didn’t.”

he scowls at you, clearly not entertained, but then he’s shrugging off his own jacket and draping it over your shoulders.

“what are you doing? it’s too cold!”

“s’fine,” he mutters, brushing up against you with each step, “can’t really feel it.”

you go quiet while you consider this, eyes drifting to the textured skin that wraps around his bicep. there’s an ache in your chest that flares up whenever you think about Touya, small and proud and burned within an inch of his life. you wonder if he still feels it, 30 some odd years later. you want to reach for him, but you think better of it.

“do they hurt still?” you ask quietly, after a moment. 

“sometimes.”

you get the sense that he wouldn’t mind if you asked more, but you’re not sure what to say. you don’t think it would be fair to ask him to relive any of it to satisfy your own curiosity. there’s just one thing you’d still like to know. 

“are you angry?”

he gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he looks down at you. his gaze is searching, like he’s looking for your fear—fear of him, of what he’s done. you know he won’t find any. 

“no.”

the rest of the walk home is shrouded in comfortable silence, save for the crunch of shoes against pavement. all too quickly you’re at the door to the shop again.

you dig for the keys for your apartment on the second floor while Touya leans against the door frame, watching you. 

you feel the metal dig into your palm when you close your fist around them. you look back up at him, and it’s almost startling how soft he looks right now. unguarded.

“can i hug you?” you ask, startling yourself a little. he’s so clearly not a touchy guy, but you hope he’ll indulge you—just this once. 

his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then his face smooths back into his practiced stoicism. he rolls his eyes, but steps forward anyway. you feel like you just won the lottery. 

“make it quick, brat.”

you nearly tackle him in your excitement and you hear him grumble next to your ear. you feel an arm loop around your shoulders, and you are suddenly very aware that your little crush is far larger than you thought. you file it away for later, because the beat of his heart against your ear feels far more important right now. everything about him is warm—you stifle a sigh at the immediate comfort that rolls over you like a wave. 

“now go inside before y’get sick.”

you resist the urge to pout. you stay there for another beat—and he doesn’t move either. 

you untangle yourself from him with a sigh. if you didn’t know any better, you’d interpret the look on his face as something close to disappointment. you start shrug your shoulders out of his jacket to hand it back to him, but he stops you.

“just, ah—” he starts, looking away from you, “give it back to me tomorrow. when i fix your fuckin’ mess.”

you raise an eyebrow, posturing to argue, but something in his expression tells you not to.

“okay,” you say finally, quiet between you, “be careful going home. goodnight, Touya.”

he lingers for a moment more before letting out a little grunt and turning on his heel. your eyes trail over the expanse of his shoulders as he grows fainter down the road until he disappears into the dark.

you drag yourself up the stairs, suddenly feeling exhausted. you stumble through the dark of your apartment until your knees knock into your bed frame. you fall into bed face first, not bothering to change or even get under the covers. still wrapped in the jacket that smells like him.

you dream of fire that warms but doesn’t burn. 

“good morning, Mr. Todoroki.”

Touya nearly comes out of his skin, hissing as he hits his head off of the counter he’s crouched under. it would be impressive, how stealthy the old bat was, if it wasn’t so god damned annoying.

“how many times do i have to tell you not to call me that?” he grumbles, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head as he gets to his feet. she only chuckles.

“you’ll have to forgive me for not addressing you with the same familiarity that my granddaughter does.”

he whips his head around to look at her—which he finds to be a mistake, because she’s just looking at him with that knowing old lady smirk that makes his skin itch. 

“don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he mutters, stooping down to lodge himself as far under the counter as he needs to to avoid the rest of this conversation. 

“oh, please. do i look like i was born yesterday?”

he pauses, mid crouch, to look back at her over his shoulder. she clicks her tongue at him. “don’t answer that.”

“i think it would be nice for you both to have…companionship,” she settles on the last word like it’s not really what she wanted to say, and it reminds him far too much of his mother. usually he’d shut this conversation down, but for a reason unknown to him, he doesn’t. 

“don’t y’think i’m a little too old for her?” he asks, half-joking. he’d be a liar to say that he hadn’t thought about it at length. 

she waves a dismissive hand at him, rolling her eyes. “oh please—you wouldn’t know too old if it hit you upside the head.” 

he hides another smirk from her—which she seems to expect anyway, shaking her head with a sigh. 

“you’re both babies still,” she says quietly, with all of the wisdom and yearning of someone who has lived as long as she has, “you have nothing but time. just don’t waste it.”

Touya’s not sure when the shift happened, but he’s acutely aware that it has happened. 

he’s doesn’t know when he started allowing you to touch him. he’s usually uncomfortable with that sort of thing—it tends to aggravate his skin and it does well to make him feel queasy. but you lay your arm over his to show him something about your flowers on your phone, and he doesn’t feel any urge to reel back from you. he wants to be surprised at his lack of reaction, but he supposes he’s not—proximity to him has always been something you’ve insisted on, physical or otherwise. 

the bar is crowded tonight, which leaves him feeling uneasy. the noise level grates at his nerves and he finds himself having to lean into you just to hear what you’re saying. it sours his mood immensely. 

he’s scowling into his beer when he feels you crowd his space. his head snaps up, ready to gripe at you, and he finds you’re turned away from him. he looks around you and sees that your space has been crowded—by some rowdy little punk he’s never seen before.

immediately and on some sort of primal instinct, Touya wraps an arm around you, yanking you into his side. you brace yourself with a hand on his chest to avoid flat out headbutting his chin. 

“hey,” he snarls over your head, eyes like daggers at the offender, “watch where you’re fuckin’ going.”

the man turns around, posturing to defend himself, but one look at Touya has his eyes widening in the same expression of fear that he sees on everyone else’s face. usually the reaction sits in his stomach like a rock, but this time, he revels in it. “and while you’re at it, you can apologize to her.”

his looks down at the ground immediately, unwilling to spend another minute under scrutiny. 

“sorry about that,” he mutters dejectedly. Touya feels your grip tighten around the hem of his shirt, but to his surprise, you say nothing. 

“get the fuck out of here,” he barks, and he holds back a laugh as the man does just that—completely forgetting about the drink he ordered. 

shaking his head, he lets you go—expecting you to scramble away from him and back to your stool. he feels himself cringe—he probably embarrassed you.

he’s worried when he realizes you’re still tethered to him by the fabric of his shirt. 

“hey,” he murmurs, trying to push you back gently to look at your face, “you alright, kid? you’re not hurt, are you?”

you let go of him, albeit reluctantly. you only move back far enough to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. he can only think of how close you are.

“Touya,” you rasp, cheeks flushed and looking at him through half-hooded eyes, “that was, um—really hot.”

he blinks at you, a little dumbfounded. his eyes rake over your face, trying to find the punchline somewhere. wholly anticipating you to snap out of it and laugh at him—to tell him what a fool he is for falling for such a cruel joke.

but your expression never changes, and he realizes at once that it’s one of desire. 

a shudder wracks up his spine. he pulls you toward him again, splaying his fingers across your back to feel the way it arches into him. he dips his head down, lips next to your ear. fighting a smirk at the way you shiver in his hold.

“come back to mine?”

you nod emphatically, and he’d tease you about it if he wasn’t feeling the same level of urgency. he throws a couple bills on the bar top and all but hauls you out the door. he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s half out of his mind right now and can’t find it within himself to think it over before he does something he might regret. 

his own desire is nearly stifling, and he finds he can’t go another minute without something to satiate him, if only for a moment. he pulls you into the alley next to the bar, crowding you against the brick.

“you drunk?” he asks suddenly—slivers of rationality making it through the haze of such thick lust. you laugh a little, breathy and overwhelmed. he can see the puff of steam from your exhale between you in the cold. 

“not at all,” you murmur, reaching for him. you wrap a finger around one of his belt loops and pull him toward you—he knows with an unsettling certainty that he’d do whatever you asked him to right now. the knowledge burns him from the inside.

“tell me to stop,” his lips are only a breath away from yours, and yet he almost wishes you would tell him to stop, because he’s not sure what comes after this. he’s alarmed by the weight of his own need, and he has a hunch that whatever happens next may not be enough to quell it. 

he has the sudden and sobering thought that he may never get his fill of you. 

“no,” you breathe, and it’s all he needs to bridge the distance. he’s instantly overwhelmed by the soft warmth of your mouth, and lets out a quiet groan when he feels your tongue swipe at the seam of his. he opens his mouth to taste more of you, and he truly cannot get enough. you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it gently, and he is nearly frantic when he pulls away from you. he feels absolutely debauched and a little humiliated—in his 40-some odd years, he’s never known himself to get so worked up over some kissing. 

“we need to go right now,” he rasps, panting against your mouth. he feels your smile against him and wants to swallow you whole. 

“lead the way, old man.”

he barely registers making it through the door—has no idea how he managed to unlock it, let alone open it—before he has you pressed up against it. to touch you like this feels foreign, and he wants to feel everything. after a moment, he gets impatient with himself. he grabs you around the backs of your thighs, hauling you up and carrying you to his bedroom. he has half a mind to thank Buck later, for not bounding between the two of you and ripping him from whatever trance you have him suspended in right now. 

he drops you onto the bed unceremoniously and is quick to follow, mouth chasing yours on the way down. you pull your shirt off and he helps you with your pants—he can’t help but pull back to marvel at you.

your demeanor changes immediately.

you're entirely too tense, breath hitching and your grip on his arms uncomfortably tight. he pulls back to look at you and you flinch. 

“jesus—the fuck are you so jumpy for?”

"i don't know!" you cross your arms over your chest with a huff, red when you look away from him. "maybe i just don't do this as often as you, okay?"

he snorts, rolling his eyes. "i don't do this often."

it’s not exactly the truth—because the truth is that he doesn't do this at all—but he's still got his pride. he’d been touched before, but mostly in his 20s and only when he was just shy of belligerent. only when he could go numb with the certainty that it would be over quickly and that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

no one could hold a flame to you, though—sprawled out underneath him, chest heaving and eyes hooded with unbridled desire. something about it makes him want to reach into the ether and stop time with his bare hands. he wants to savor every bead of sweat that rolls down the curve of your breast, every touch that makes your pupils dilate—the primal need to know takes over everything else.

“i just…” you start, lip jutting out with the tiniest pout. he feels insane. “i feel nervous.”

something inside him twists at your admission, and he finds himself wanting to comfort you. it’s a completely unfamiliar feeling, but he leans into it. 

"relax," he murmurs, unwinding your arms and replacing them with his full body weight, directly on top of you. you squeak, and he presses his smile into the crook of your neck. "don't have to do anything you're not ready for."

he feels you slump underneath him—however minutely—and it feels like a reward. and then your hips kick into his, and his brain short circuits. 

he pushes back onto his forearms to look at you, and he's endeared by the flush that creeps up your neck as you avoid his gaze. he finds it cute, how quickly you lay your ego down for him. that in itself is another reward, and one he doesn't take lightly.

you might be a little embarrassed under his stare, but that doesn't stop the roll of your hips. yours is a slow grind up into him and he meets you with one of his own, firm and demanding. your mouth drops open and the way you shudder under him pulls a groan from him. 

"feel good?" he rasps, sneaking a hand around the back of your neck and holding you there, nosing against your cheek until you turn to him.

"yes."

it's borderline pornographic when it leaves you and his hips stutter—he feels it buzzing underneath his skin as it pushes him closer to a place wholly unfamiliar. 

through his jeans, he's sure you can feel him—hot and aching against the flimsy material of your panties. he huffs a laugh against your lips—suddenly acutely aware of the possibility that he may cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. 

you seem to be aware of that, too. 

you kiss him hard and he nearly whines, and then he actually does when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull. he reels back from you to catch his breath and you don't let him go very far. 

"you feel so good," murmured into his mouth, it's nearly his undoing. 

"you gotta stop," it sounds a lot like a plea when it leaves him, "i can't—i'm gonna—”

you hook a leg around his waist, keeping him pressed to you. he knows at once that he is well and truly fucked in a fundamental and totally unrelated way. 

"no," you drawl, and it's almost a coo in his ear, "i don't think i will."

he doesn't know when you took the upper hand and he doesn't even care. he's lost in the movement of your hips and he knows that there's a mess between you both—he hears the tacky click of damp fabric meeting with every grind into you. 

"you're—fuckin' wet," he grits out, and he's so close. the knowledge of your arousal has him curling in on himself.

you chuckle, like he's stating something so obvious. "how could i not be?"

he rewards you with a particularly sinful thrust, and you keen underneath him. 

"please," you arch into him, "want you to cum."

and he does just that—all the breath is battered out of him with the force of it. his cock throbs with every wave of release in his jeans and he keeps himself pressed snuggly to you, hips thrusting with no particular rhythm as he rides out the last of it. he keeps his face pressed into your neck and lets out a long, broken groan. he stays there—full body weight collapsed on top of you again—and it's a moment before he comes back to his senses enough to feel your fingers scratch over his scalp. 

"fucking hell," he presses a kiss to your throat and you giggle. it warms something inside of him that's hard to shake once it starts. he has the sneaking suspicion—in this fleeting moment of vulnerability—that it started well before now. 

he gathers his wits and pushes back from you. he sees the look on your face and finds that he couldn't go any farther than an arm's length away, even if he tried. 

adoration. it could only be that—you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and it twists in his gut. he doesn't understand—he's done so many wrong things. you look at him like they don't hang above his head—like you can't see them there.

what a sweet little thing that's found their way into his bed. and deeper than that, it seems. 

"want to taste you," he murmurs, leaning back down to drag his lips over the curve of your jaw. you draw in a shuddering breath, nodding, and it fans his ego immensely. 

he takes his time, then—there's intention behind every warm press of his mouth to every inch of your skin. he takes note of the way your breath hitches, and of what makes you squirm. you tip your head back with a moan when he catches a bead of sweat between the valley of your breasts with his tongue. 

you breathe out a whisper of his name when he latches on to the skin that stretches over your ribs, and he feels his own arousal swell again—sloshing around in his gut, thick and needing. he finds himself grinding his hips into the mattress below him—lazy, really. just enough to dull the ache. 

"hold on," you croak, and he looks up at you, "you’re too dressed."

he looks down at himself and realizes that you’re right—he’s still fully clothed. he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at his own one track mind, and sits up to take care of it. 

he grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head in a fluid motion. he feels your gaze on him and feels a little bashful. he’s even quicker with the jeans—soiled and gross as they are now—shoving them down his hips and kicking them from his ankles until his clad in only his (also gross) boxers and leaning over you again. 

you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over the scar across his chest. he half expects you to pull away—to recoil from him like you should—but you don’t. 

“need you, Touya.”

he could just die. 

"s'that right?" he bends down to press another hot kiss to the skin that stretches between your hips. he fixates on the softness of it, and has to stop himself from nuzzling into it. he'd love to draw this out—to really get you pleading for him like he hopes you would, writhing and so wet underneath him. but his own patience nears its end, so he decides to be merciful. he shuffles down until he's eye level with the damp spot in your panties that makes him curse under his breath. 

"look at you," he breathes, dragging a finger through the mess. you let out a whine, arching to chase what little stimulation he's giving you. "poor thing. y'really do need it."

he doesn't wait for your response before his hooking a finger through the fabric and dragging it off of you. a string of your arousal stretches and snaps with it, and he commits the sight to memory. 

he wastes no time—he sticks his tongue out flat and drags it through your folds, groaning at the slick that coats it. 

"oh fuck," you wheeze, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair to keep him there.

as if you'd ever need to do that. 

he can't get enough of you. so swollen and sweet against his tongue, he's nearly out of his mind with the need for more of it. he dips the tip of his tongue inside you and feels you squeeze around it, and it's unbearable how badly he wants more of you. 

"Touya," you groan out, eyes squeezed shut tight as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks, "please—please don't stop—"

he thinks you're fucking insane for ever believing he would. he pulses his tongue against your clit and revels in the way your back arches as you wail—he reaches up to pinch a pebbled nipple between his heated fingers just to feel you.

"oh fuck, fuck fuck—" the words tumble out of your mouth, slurred and nearly incoherent as he flattens out his tongue and lets you chase your pleasure.

in the throes of it, you reach down to tangle your fingers between his own. he's not sure if you even know that you've done it, but the knowledge that you seek him out for such an innocent display comfort has his heart fluttering in his chest. he gives your nipple a particularly harsh tug with his other hand.

"oh i'm gonna cum—" you cry, hips stuttering with every drag of your sex over his tongue, "please, Touya, i'm gonna—"

he squeezes your fingers when you do, and you let out a sob that goes straight to his cock. he feels you tense up—every muscle rigid for only a moment—and then you let it go, and he's mesmerized. it moves through you violently, like waves crashing into the shore during a storm. he keeps your clit between his lips as you thrash, letting you buck against his face, dragging it out for as long as he can. 

he waits until he hears your breathing return to a semi-normal pace before he cleans you up—with his tongue, light and gentle through your folds, not wanting to waste any of the mess you reward him with. he forgets himself and slips his tongue inside of you—drinking up all of your slick. basking in the way you flutter around him and the sweet slide of you down his throat. he only comes back to himself when you start to tremble, whining at the overstimulation. 

he rests his head on the inside of your thigh and closes his eyes, breathing you in. never in his life has he ever felt so satiated by something—it confuses him, to get so much pleasure from you without you ever even touching him. he feels you squeeze his fingers and realizes he's still holding your hand. 

"you with me, kid?"

you sigh, stretching your free leg out. "think so, old man."

he untangles your fingers to rub at your leg, reaching down to knead at the muscles in your calf. you sigh, light and content, and it makes him smile. it's quiet between you then, and he's grateful that you don't feel the need to fill it. he pulls your leg over his shoulder, moving to massage the outside of your thigh. 

"good to me," you sigh sleepily, and he knows you're only a second from falling asleep. 

he doesn't answer—his throat suddenly feels too thick and he doesn't think he can—he just keeps rubbing your muscles gently until your breathing evens out. 

he finds that he doesn't mind being trapped between your legs like this. when he thinks he might even be able to fall asleep, he realizes for the second time that he's in far deeper than he thought he'd be.

he lets his eyes flutter closed and has a hard time thinking of anything wrong with that. 

there’s another shift, after that. the only person that seems to be oblivious to it is you. 

it’s not that you haven’t noticed, because of course you have. Touya becomes uncharacteristically touchy, literally overnight. you bask in it when you can, because you know it’s fleeting. 

that’s where you split off from, well—everyone else. 

“c’mon kid, you can’t honestly think that.”

you huff, glaring into your drink. Touya’s friends had jumped at the opportunity to heckle you the minute he stood up to go to the restroom. you find it endearing, the way they act like little old ladies, gossiping amongst themselves. 

“we’re not together,” you repeat, albeit bitterly, “it’s not like that for him.”

the friend closest to you barks out a laugh, and you pin him with your meanest stare. it only makes him laugh harder. he’s wiping tears from his eyes when Touya comes back, filling the space between you. 

it hurts tremendously to know that this is temporary, and you feel ridiculous for feeling that way. it’s not like it comes as a surprise—you knew very well that Touya wasn’t one for romance or love. you thought you could live with that, especially with the sex being as good as it is—but it was just so easy to believe the opposite was true, because he really was good to you. if you allowed yourself to forget, it was nothing at all to pretend he was because he wanted this, too. 

still—like a magnet, you’re drawn to him. you hop down from your stool to stand beside his, and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“you hungry?,” he turns to murmur into your hair, “i’ll get you fries or somethin’.”

“wow, fries” you scoff, rolling your eyes, “how chivalrous.”

you feel him grin. “wasn’t raised in a barn.”

it’s a bad joke. it lodges itself in your skin and makes you ache for him. you try not to dwell on it. 

“you could’ve fooled me.”  

he rolls his eyes back at you with a little tch, but it’s lighthearted. he slings his arm around your neck and pulls you closer until you’re pressed into the warmth of his side, and presses a kiss to your temple. 

“you know, most men would give up their seats for pretty women.” you tease, leaning into his touch. 

“let me know if you see one, then.” 

“hey!”

he laughs, brushing his lips against your forehead again before leaning back, patting his thigh. 

“c’mon then, pretty lady.”

you feel warm as you climb up into his lap, and when you settle in, it’s like a key inside of a lock. you pointedly ignore the knowing glance from the man to your right, choosing instead to feel every inch that connects you to Touya. it feels like a reward, to mold to him this well—like something you’re owed after trimming off every one of his prickly little thorns for as long as you have. you want to tell him so, but you know he’d clam up or shove you off of him. you keep your feelings where they simmer under your skin and focus on the way his hand trails over the curve of your hip—back and forth, like he means to soothe, but his warmth feels like a brand. you close your eyes and imagine a reality in which he does it because he loves you.  

“you alright?”

it sounds odd, coming from him—like he’s not used to asking the question. you suppose he’s not—he’s never had anyone to check up on. he reaches to brush a strand of hair from your face, and his fingers linger over your brow bone.

you’d been quiet since you left the bar—you’d followed him back to his house with an uncharacteristically little amount of banter. you’d been pliant as he pulled you down on the bed with him—nearly boneless and without so much as a teasing bite on the way down. 

despite yourself, you feel your eyes start to burn. you let out a clipped curse, blinking rapidly and looking pointedly away from him—hoping he wouldn’t press you about it. 

he does. 

“hey, hey,” he says softly, reaching to grab your chin with warm, calloused fingers and turning you to face him, “what’s goin’ on?” 

his blatant concern makes it worse—drives the knife a little deeper into your side—because it’s so starkly different (and far more intimate) from the Touya you started with. it only serves as a reminder of your original suspicion having long been confirmed—that he cares for you because he’s good. not because he loves you. not because he feels this unbearable, aching need that you do. you know there’s no escaping him now—he’s seeded himself somewhere deep in your chest and taken root. when his thumb brushes down over the curve of your jaw, you know that there’s no stopping the words that are about to come out of your mouth. 

“i love you,” the tears crest and fall, and you ache when he brushes them away before they can slip down your temples, “i’m really sorry.”

you’re a little surprised when you see his eyebrows knit together slightly in an emotion that’s definitely not the overt and immediate dismay you thought it would be, but you close your eyes before you can see anything else—before you can watch him pull away from you, genuinely and for the last time. 

you go rigid when you feel his forehead knock into yours, gently and only for an instant. 

“s’that such a bad thing?”

your eyes snap open, and you think the sight might kill you—he’s open and giving you everything with a willingness that makes your breath stutter in your chest. he has his head propped up on his hand to look at you, and it’s almost enough to disarm you completely. 

“don’t be cruel if you’re going to leave,” you hear yourself plead, despite what you’re seeing. he only snorts. 

“and what makes you so sure i’ll do that?”

“i know that you don’t do this shit.”

he smiles at that—a little thing that stretches across his face slow. it amuses him to hear you swear. 

“you’re right,” he murmurs, reaching to brush his fingers over your jaw again. holding you there so gently that it aches. “i don’t. s’different now, though.” 

you blink at him through the sting in your eyes, more confused than anything. he lets out a slow sigh, but it’s not in frustration. 

“you’re stuck to me now,” he says with such a fondness that you feel the words stick themselves to your bones, “m’not going anywhere.”

“i’m not trapping you here, Touya—“

“you’re not,” he agrees, with more patience than he’s ever afforded you. something starts to click in your mind, but for some reason, you find yourself fighting it. 

“you don’t—you’re not—“

“hey,” he cuts you off with a flick to your forehead, “listen to what i’m tellin’ you.”

“it’s…hard. for me.” he says after thinking for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again like he’s trying to make up the words from scratch. “i‘m used to bein’ alone. never really thought about anybody else.”

you’re silent then, mostly stunned, because you don’t think he’s ever said so many words to you. not like this. 

“i’m outta my depth here, kid,” it’s nearly whispered and it feels sacred, like a confession between you. you’re suddenly very aware that he’s giving you something that he’s parting with for the first time in his life. “but i can’t think about ya anywhere but here now. makes me feel a little sick.” 

you reach for him then—tentative fingertips brushing over the rapid fluttering of his heart. he gathers them in his hand and holds you there. 

“i might not be any good at this. but i’d like to try.” 

his words hit your ears one at a time, like coins slotted into a carnival game—they reach your mind with a heavy clink and only when the last one drops in do you really hear him. he’s no casanova, but you understand the sentiment under his words as if he’d spoken it aloud. 

you close your eyes and draw in one more shuddering breath, and it knocks loose the last of your reservations. you turn on your side, facing him fully, meeting the blue of his eyes with a slow smile that makes them narrow at you in suspicion. 

“jeez. you didn’t have to go all soft on me.”

he scoffs, shaking his head. “glad to have you back, you fuckin’ brat.” 

you laugh and he chases the sound, leaning forward until your foreheads knock together again. this time, he stays put. 

“tell me again,” he murmurs, and your heart balloons inside your chest. 

“i love you.”

epilogue—1 year later

Touya trudges up the steps to your apartment after finishing up at your grandparents’. you’d think he’d agreed to remodel the whole house, with how often they call him over now. 

he had a hunch that he wasn’t really there just to make repairs, and he didn’t mind. he knew how much your family meant to you, and he’d be lying if he said they weren’t growing on him, too.

“you bring our girl over here to see us,” the old bat called after him as he walked out the door, “don’t let her work herself to death.”

he was quick to agree, because his concerns were similar—you’d gotten busy as the weather started to warm with the first hint of spring, and you did not appear to be particularly skilled at taking breaks or prioritizing yourself. predictable, but no less annoying. 

walking up the steps to the home you now share, he looks down at the squirming thing in his arms and lets out a sigh. 

it didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to move in. he got to see you everyday (which allowed him to ensure you were, at the very least, feeding yourself) and Buck was over the moon at living in a new space if that meant he could be with you all the time. he couldn’t find a reason to say no (and he really, really didn’t want to), so it was easy to say yes. the smile you gave him when he agreed is imprinted on his heart. 

“babe? you here?”

you call to him in response from the kitchen, not looking up at him when he walks in—you’re hunched over the counter in front of your laptop, going through orders while Buck lays at your feet. he makes no move to greet Touya—in fact, the only acknowledgement Buck spares him is a few thuds of his tail against the tile. Touya narrows his eyes at him. traitor.

“hi,” you murmur, turning your body like you’re going to look at him—except you don’t actually look away from the computer.

“hi,” he grins, not moving in to kiss you like he usually does. waiting for you to turn to him. 

“what did Mam need—oh.”

you’re finally looking at him—except you’re not really looking at him at all, because your eyes are focused on the shivering thing in his arms. 

you look at it, and to him, and then back to it. you’re quiet for a beat, clearly trying to process, and then the thing nearly jumps out of his arms when you throw your head back and laugh.

“what the hell is that—” you say through a wheeze, wiping your eyes on your sleeve,  “Touya—oh my god—where did you get that?”

you close the proximity between you—finally, he thinks—and he bends to kiss your temple when you take the chihuahua from his arms. instantly Buck is on his feet, sniffing the air but otherwise content just to look at the dog in your arms. Touya feels relief at the non-reaction—you really had taught his dog some manners. 

“the fuckin’ thing was rooting around in the trash,” he mutters, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “figured you’d be mad at me if i left ‘im there.”

you roll your eyes and he knows you know it’s a lie—he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he’d left the dog there. 

“are we keeping him?” you ask absentmindedly, scratching his tiny head. it works to subdue him—the shaking stops (mostly) and he lets out a little huff before relaxing in your hold. it makes you smile, and Touya thinks he’d fill this whole fucking house with chihuahuas if it meant he could see it again. 

“do y’want to?”

you let out a stray chuckle, finally looking up at him. “i guess he’d fit, won’t he?”

he feels the grin stretch across his face. “i don’t know. it’d be a tight squeeze.”

you snort, reaching with your free hand to poke at his ribs. “you have to name him, you know.”

“fuck,” he groans dramatically, pulling another giggle from you, “fine. what about…” he trails off, wracking his brain and looking around the kitchen, praying for even a semblance of inspiration. he sees your half-eaten lunch on the counter, and he thinks about the moldy cold cut he’d had to wrestle out of the little shit’s surprising tight grip—

“lunch meat.”

“...i’m sorry?”

“his name is lunch meat.”

you laugh at that, and the sound reverberates off every cell in his body. 

“it’s a good thing we’re not having kids,” you say through a giggle, “they’d have the worst names.”

he grins at you and you just shake your head, cooing to the tiny dog in your arms. Touya peels himself from you, settling against the counter just to watch. the other surprise—the one he’d actually planned—involved a fancy dinner in the next town over, because it is your anniversary, after all—but right now it feels like he has nothing but time, and to do anything but stand here and feel every second with you would feel like a waste.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.    

[teapartyprincess4two]

I'M THE ANON WHO REQUESTED FOR HEARTBREAK GIRL!!

FIRST OF ALL, THANK YOU, OMG. I CAN'T BELIEVE U WROTE IT I LOVE IT SO MUCH BUTTTT I SHOULD'VE SPECIFIED THAT I WANTED A HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE I SWEAR I CAN'T TAKE ANGST AND UNRESOLVED ENDING 😭

sooo part two PLEASE??? <3333 (I'll give my right leg for free)

Heartbreak Girl PT.2- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Clueless!reader x BestFriend!Matt

classification: slight angst, fluff

warnings: use of y/n, slight cursing, slightly annoying reader, Matt has a gf (brief), HAPPY ENDING

inspiration: requests^^, Heartbreak Girl by 5SOS

summary: Matt tries moving on, but you reel him back in every time.

Heartbreak Girl PT.1

—

Matt couldn’t find it in himself to stay mad at you. No matter how hard he tried, he found excuse after excuse each time and ended up forgiving you. Matt’s mind was battling with itself, trying to muster up enough hatred to push you out of his life once and for all, but he couldn’t blame you for breaking his heart. Deep down Matt knew that it wasn’t your fault you fell in love with someone else, and it especially wasn’t your fault that he fell in love with you.

So, even though his mind told him no, his heart told him yes, and he found himself welcoming you back into his life just days after the incident.

It was Tuesday, an ordinary day for everyone in the Sturniolo household. You were visiting, something you did often, and you, Chris and Nick were engaged in meaningless conversation on the couch. Matt watches the three of you with a sad droop in his eyes from the kitchen, memories of him sobbing in the hallway just days before replaying through his mind. Your face was such a bittersweet sight; filling him with emotions of love and sadness.

Matt desperately wanted to be the underdog who won the girl, but he didn’t even know where to begin with you. There were so many boundaries he’d have to cross and he didn’t know if he was ready for it all. For starters, you were his best friend. What happens if he confesses and you simply don’t feel the same way? Would he lose you as a friend? Secondly, you just got out of a serious relationship and already voiced your opinion on future relationships. Even if Matt did confess, the trauma Mike left you would blind you. Matt was convinced that you’d never date him.

Matt grabs 4 drinks, the reasons he’s even in the kitchen in the first place, balancing them in his hands as he walks back into the living room. Silently, he hands the drinks out and sits back onto the couch, squeezing in between you and Chris. Your body instinctively scoots in closer to Matt’s, a sigh escaping your lips as you cuddle into his chest. He hates himself for quite literally welcoming you back with open arms, but he can’t help it. He loves you, and he’ll take anything he can get.

When Matt came home crying a few days ago, Nick and Chris prodded him for an explication. At first, he couldn’t find the courage to confess his feelings for you out loud, not even to his brothers. But, Nick and Chris were relentless and after a few more tries they managed to force the information out of Matt.

So, now that you’re wrapped in his arms, Nick sends Matt a warning glare. Matt can feel Nick’s burning stare, but he keeps his eyes on the TV in front of him. He was so undeniably whipped for you it was embarrassing, he couldn’t handle the judgmental looks from his brothers.

“I’m cold,” you whisper, looking up at Matt through your long, thick lashes. Matt’s first instinct is to warm you up, and he fights the urge to peel the clothes off his back and wrap you in it. “Want a blanket?” he asks sweetly, a glint of sadness in his eyes as he makes eye contact with you. Why was he giving into your every whim so easily? Why was he unable to hate you?

You hum in response, turning your attention back to the movie without another word. You had Matt wrapped around your finger, and with the way you just interacted with him, he knew you were playing him. But, like a well trained dog, he wiggled out from under you to fetch you a blanket. Nick and Chris watch in frustration, suppressing the urge to slap their brother for being so whipped.

“Thank you,” you murmur once Matt returns with the blanket, sprawling out over you as he snuggles back into his previous spot.

“Anything for you.”

—

Matt’s managed to slowly, but surely, get over you, for the most part at least. He didn’t want to, but he started seeing this girl he met through Instagram. His brothers pushed him to meet new people, mostly so he’d finally get over you, but he was hesitant at first. Matt held his reservations, he wanted to save himself for you for as long as possible.

But, he finally decided enough was enough because you didn’t remain true to your previous sentiments about dating. The words still rang through Matt’s mind every night, “I’m just ready to be single.” Why say that if you were going to start dating again just months later? Granted, you were only exploring, none of the people you were associating yourself with were of true interest, but it still hurt.

Matt spent his entire life pining for you, chasing you at a steady pace that kept you just out of reach. Then, for whatever reason, you let a random man enter your life and take his rightful spot? There was an unspoken claim that Matt felt for you, he needed you to be his and no one else’s. But it was clear now that you didn’t see him the same way, so he was forced to find comfort in someone else.

Fiona, the girl Matt was seeing, looked an awful lot like you. It was creepy how similar she was to you; she held a lot of the same mannerisms and dressed like you. Anyone could see that Matt was looking for you in her and that she was the perfect scapegoat, providing Matt with the perfect excuse to stop pursuing anything real with anyone.

When you first met Fiona, you put on a fake, tight lipped smile. You shook her hand aggressively, your firm grip sending her a message that she read loud and clear; you didn’t like her at all. For as long as you’ve known Matt, he’s always been just Matt. Now, with this new girl in the picture, he wasn’t just Matt anymore. It was now Matt and Fiona, and you hated it.

You had zero room to be upset, especially because Matt had practically thrown himself at you time and time again, but the jealousy built up every time you saw them together. Matt smiled at her? You’re furious. Matt tells you about her? You’re not listening. Matt takes her on a date? You hate her. That last part is true, you hate her.

“I just don’t see what he sees in her,” you say, messing with one of the stuffed animals that litter Nick’s bed. He’s been listening to you drone on and on about Fiona for hours. He rolls his eyes as he replies, “she’s nice? I don’t Y/n, can we talk about something else?”

You glance at him, an annoyed look written all over your face, “You’re supposed to listen to me rant. That’s what good friends do.”

“No, that’s what Matt does, and I’m not Matt.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, picking loose pieces of lint from Nick’s bedsheets.

“Why do you care so much about Fiona anyway? Aren’t you seeing that guy? What’s his na-“ Nick begins, but you cut him off because the string of questions begin annoying you.

“Ian? I went on ONE date with him,” you say.

“Okay, well why don’t you go on another?” Nick prods, beginning to push your buttons with each question. “Because he was weird. Plus he smelled like cigarettes,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance. Why couldn’t Nick just shut up and listen to you rant?

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re an avid Fiona hater, though.” Nick knows you’re fighting with the realization that you’re in love with Matt, why else would Fiona bother you so much?

“She’s just weird. Matt could do better,” you reply, your mind wandering into dangerous territory as you imagine a life where you and Matt are dating. The images tug at your heart strings, a feeling you’ve never felt before when thinking of your best friend.

“Oh okay. And I’m assuming you’re ‘better?’” Nicks’s fingers dramatically air quote the last word, causing a blush to form on your face. “I never said that! Don’t be annoying!” you exclaim, hitting him playfully with the stuffed animal.

He laughs, blocking your hits with his arms, “Just admit you’re in love with him and that’s why you don’t like his girlfriend.” Girlfriend, the word stung when he said it. You stop hitting Nick, slumping back into your spot.

“Girlfriend? They’re official?” the exasperation in your voice is enough to give you away. You’ve never felt this heartbroken before, not even when you and Mike officially ended things. This is a newfound pain, a feeling you don’t want to linger in. Were you blind this entire time? Has the veil finally been lifted only to reveal that your best friend, the love of your life, has his sights set on another?

Nick’s mouth goes agape, a hand quickly covering it. “Are you actually in love with my brother?!” his voice is muffled behind his hand, but still loud enough for you to hear. The realization finally sets in, you love Matt, but you’re too late.

“Holy fuck. I think I am,” you whisper, tears brimming at your eyes. Now what?

—

It’s rare that you and Matt get time alone nowadays, especially with Fiona always lingering around. Nick confirmed that they weren’t official, they weren’t even exclusive, but for some reason she was always just there. You tried being nice, especially if she was going to become a frequent character in your life, but it was hard.

You’re currently filming a car video with the triplets, grateful that they didn’t invite Matt’s new friend to crash the party. You’ve filmed many videos like this with them before, but for some reason you feel nervous the whole time.

Throughout the entire video Matt’s eyes are glued to you, he’s hanging onto your every word and relishing in the sweet sound of your laughter. This feels normal, and for a second he forgets all about the poor girl he was leading on. But, once the video reaches the halfway point, the conversation drifts into the topic of relationships.

“Okay, this person asks if any of us are in love. You go first, Y/n,” Chris reads the question from his phone, earning daggers from Nick. This was obviously a sensitive subject, and if Nick was in charge of reading the questions he would’ve glossed over it and moved onto the next, but Chris isn’t aware of your hidden feelings for Matt. Matt becomes visibly uncomfortable from his seat, shifting so he’s fully facing the dashboard. Whatever you’re going to say, he doesn’t want to hear it.

You cough awkwardly, “I don’t want to answer that.”

Nick is about to speak up in an attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction, but Chris doesn’t skip a beat, “Okay, that’s fine. Matt? How you liking your new lady friend?” Chris pokes Matt’s sides playfully, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. The question churns your stomach, you actually could vomit right now. Nick sends you a sympathetic glance, attempting to console you with a hand on your knee, but you push his hand away and shake your head profusely.

Matt wants to slap Chris, why would he even direct the question to him? But he keeps his composure, “She’s nice and funny. Nice girl.”

You can’t stop the snarky, sassy remark that escapes your mouth, “Wow. Sounds like true love.” Matt shifts to you in shock, the anger filling his body immediately. Who were you to talk? You crawled back to Mike every single time he uttered so much as a broken promise. You believed him every time he said he would change only to cry to Matt about your heartbreak hours later.

“What would you know? Not like Mike set much of an example,” Matt spits, venom laced in every word. You’re shocked and hurt, Matt was never the type to throw personal stuff in your face.

“So mature, Matt. So mature,” you reply with an eye roll. The air in the car is becoming tense, both Nick and Chris unaware of what to do with themselves. Do they interject? Do they change the subject? Or do they just let you two hash it out? They decided on the last option, scooting far back into their seats and watching the situation unfold.

“Oh shut up! You called me every night crying over that loser. Is that what love is to you?! Because if so, I don’t want any part of it,” Matt’s voice is so loud it shakes the car, he’s pointing an accusatory finger in your face and leaning so far forward in his seat that he’s practically in the backseat.

You’re no stranger to fights, especially not after having Mike as an ex, so you’re quick to respond, “What a best friend you are! If I would’ve known you were going to throw this back in my face, I would’ve never told you any of this!”

Matt’s seething with anger, but so are you. He breaths in deeply through his nose, ready to rip you a new one, but Nick decides he’s heard enough. The camera is still rolling and the mood is ruined.

“Are you two idiots done? Jesus, fuck,” Nick groans, pushing himself between you two and grabbing the camera from the dashboard.

“That was… a lot,” Chris chuckles nervously from the front seat, he has no idea what just happened. Matt clenches his jaw, breaking his gaze from you and facing forward.

“Just take me home,” you command, an angry tone still laced in your voice. The faster you could get out of this car, the better.

“Already on it,” Matt retorts, starting the car and reversing out of the parking lot. You’re about to make a snarky remark, but he turns the volume up, loud radio music drowning your voice. You’re trembling at this point, the pent up anger threatening to burst at any moment.

Once Matt pulls up to your house, he quickly places the car in park, unlocking the doors from the front seat to serve as your invitation to leave. You gladly accept it, dismissing yourself from Nick and Chris with a genuine, apologetic smile before swinging the door open. You step out of the car, slamming the door shut soon after.

You stomp your way to your house, trembling hands unlocking your front door. But once you’re inside, any anger you felt is replaced with sadness, the tears finally spilling over.

You felt helpless, forced to navigate new feelings you didn’t ask for. You groan in frustration, wiping the tears away and walking to your room, you were NOT going to cry over Matt.

That resolution didn’t last very long, though, as soon as you’re in your room you slump onto your bed and the tears continue to flow. You scream into your pillow, letting all your frustrations out. As much as you loved Matt, you hated him for making you feel this way.

—

Matt is going through the same emotions; his mind dancing over a fine line of hatred and love for you. He hated how much he loved you. The entire situation in the car earned him a tongue lashing from Nick and he soon realized that whatever he had with Fiona had to end. He couldn’t keep leading her on, because, as much as he hated to admit it, you were right; he didn’t love her.

So, he broke the poor girl’s heart through a text message. He blocked her right after and took a long, cold shower to try and wash away the guilt. Matt tried convincing himself that this was the right thing to do, that he was going to end up winning the girl, his girl.

He twists the knobs of the shower, turning the water off and quickly exiting the tub. He knows what he has to do, and if he’s going to do it, it had to be right now. There was no time to wait. He dresses himself swiftly, throwing on the first outfit he can find before grabbing his car keys and rushing out the door.

Matt feels a surge of adrenaline course through his veins, it was now or never. He drives to your house, running through red lights and stop signs on the way there. He’s throwing the car in park, yanking the keys out of the ignition and throwing his seat belt off as quickly as possible. His legs carry him to your front door at lightning speed, a heavy fist knocking so loud the sound travels through your home.

It startles you from your sleep, causing you to jolt up from your bed and look around the room. Matt is yelling your name at this point, trying his to call you down. “What the fuck?” you croak, grabbing your phone and checking the time. It’s only been two hours since Matt dropped you off, what could he possibly want.

You slip your house shoes on, tired feet trudging downstairs to the front door. You open the door abruptly, still holding some resentment from earlier, “What Matt? What could possibly be so important that you’re banging on my door at midnight.”

Matt clears his throat, ignoring your sour attitude as he prepares to confess to you. “If this is about our fight from earlier, I forgive you. Goodni-“ you continue, but Matt cuts you off.

“Can I speak? Damn.” He waits patiently to see if you’re going to interrupt before continuing, “I broke it off with Fiona.”

You have to physically stop yourself from jumping for joy at the news, instead replying either a snarky remark, “okay, how is this news worth losing sleep over?”

“Just shut up for one second, please,” he shushes you, taking a step into your house. He closes the door behind him, shaky hands find their way to your face. You subconsciously lean into him, relishing in his touch.

“Y/n, I love you. And before you interrupt, just listen,” he begins, holding a stare so intense that it makes your knees wobble. You hum in response, ready to hear everything this man has to say.

He takes a deep breath, “I love you and I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. Everyday I wake up and curse the world for not making you mine. I love everything about you; your laugh, your smile, your sense of humor, your face, everything, Y/n. The moments I spend away from you are painful and the ones I spend with you are the highlights of my life.” Butterflies are fluttering around your stomach, you want to pull him in and kiss him already, but he’s not done.

“I’ve kept this a secret for a long time, mostly because I was afraid of what it would do to our friendship. But I can’t deny it anymore. I. Love. You. The longer I keep it in, the more it hurts,” he pushes his forehead against yours, his wet hair tickling your skin. “When you were with Mike, I wished I was him every day. If I was him, I would have never made you cry. I would have protected and taken care of you- I will protect and take care of you. I’d quite literally do anything for you, Y/n. Anything.”

He inhales deeply again, the anxiety dissipating as he searches your eyes. They’re twinkling, a big smile spread across your face as he continues, “From the way you reacted earlier, I know you feel the same way. Don’t deny it. You love me just as much as I love you. Just…” he finished his statement by fluttering his eyes closed and attaching his lips to yours.

You kiss back, an instant wave of joy washing over you. “I love you, too,” you whisper against his lips, feeling the way his lips curl up into a smile. He knew it, but it felt good to hear you say it. He pulls you in for another kiss, ready to spend the rest of forever with you.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Thank you heartbreak girl anon, I’ll be expecting that right leg in the mail soon. This was a popular demand here on the TeaPartyPrincess4Two blog, so I ofc had to supply. Luv u, enjoy 👍🏻💌 (also… Shameless mentioned????)

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @stinkytinkywinky @pepsiluvr0209 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[wonwoonlight]

Cheol secretly clearing your schedule for the week to take you on a surprise trip to Jeju 😌

IT'S THIS SEUNGCHEOL ACTUALLY

when you miss seungcheol but you're going on a trip to jeju without him

A/n: not proofread, just fluff!!! Short lol idk the wc bc i wrote it on tumblr. Thank u anon i love u for this, virtually kissing you on the mouth (with consent) for your big brain😗😗😗😗

The company has given you a month break on top of the first two weeks you were told to rest by your doctor.

Seungcheol tries to be there as much as he can, but between concert preparation and some other schedules, he can only squeeze in so much of his time between his overall schedules.

You've been recovering well, thankfully, and you’ve declared yourself too well rested that you're at the point where you're antsy and you just want to move. So you've been catching up with friends and family instead; meeting them over meals and desserts.

Obviously, Seungcheol can't come with you even though he would love to. He was going to join one of the dinner with your family, but one of his schedule got delayed for two hours so there goes his plan. Instead, he quickly sent your family a set of desserts as an apology like the good boyfriend that he is.

That said, you're on your last week of resting and you'll belatedly return to your schedule starting on Tuesday. Which you're kinda excited for because you miss your hectic schedules already, but it also kinda sucks because you've only gotten to see Seungcheol about four times for a few short hours throughout your break. It was such a good opportunity to finally spend time with him, but, then again, he has schedules to attend to and you understand.

Still, you were hoping you can finally just laze around with him even for a day.

"You're all packed?" Seungcheol asks lazily through the phone, his face filling your entire screen.

"Pretty much." You nod as you look through your luggages. "This is enough... right?

Seungcheol laughs incredulously, and you glare at him because you already know what he's going to say.

"Baby, you're--"

"--going on a three days trip, I know. But you don't know what's going to happen!"

He grins so hard his cheeks hurt, and it takes everything in him to hold back from telling you just how much he knows what's going to happen during your trip.

"Curse my cousin for asking me to go on a trip out of nowhere. She knows I'm the worst when it comes to packing. How could she ask me if I want to go to Jeju three days ago! Three!"

"But you're excited anyway, right?" He coaxes you softly, reminding you that it's been quite some time since you go on a trip that is not related to your schedule.

"I am." You admit, then drop the sundress you're going to put into the luggage (last minute because you're literally leaving to the airpory in an hour) before you take your phone and plops down the bed, looking at him through your screen. "I wish I could've gone with you, though."

"I know." He tries to sound as sad as possible, and he's thankful that you were too busy pouting to see the battle he's close to losing to fight a smile. "We'll go on a trip soon, I promise."

"Don't make promises like that." You say sternly; he knows just how much you hate promises like that, and he's learned not to say them carelessly, but of course he says that because he knows just how soon that actually is.

"I'm sorry, I just really want to go on a trip with you, too." He musters the most pitiful tone he can let out, and you roll your eyes before you tell him he's obligated to take you on a trip now that he's said it. "I will. It'll happen before you know it."

You're not playing with him anymore though, because you're suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of loneliness even though he's here with you on the phone almost everyday. You don't want to sound clingy, because you're grateful that Seungcheol always tries to spare the time to talk to you on the phone when he could; but it's actually been a month or so since you actually spend time to be with each other and you suddenly miss him so, so dearly.

"I miss you..." Seungcheol would've missed it had he not been staring at you, and he returns the sentiment before he winces at his manager telling him they've arrived at their destination. "Go. Your schedule is waiting."

"I'll see you very soon, okay? Promise me you'll have fun in Jeju?"

"I will if you're there with me."

Seungcheol laughs, which seems to help you smile also because you've always claimed you're his number one fan when it comes to that.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do about that."

"It's fine." You brush off his words, not wanting him to feel bad about it. "I love you. Do well on your schedule today."

"Love you too." He smiles before you hang up, not forgetting to remind you to eat properly.

You don't get to be dramatic and wail about your loneliness, because it's not even three minutes later that someone knocks on your door and you open it only to have your breath knocked out of your lungs.

"Surprise!" Seungcheol grins, his arms wide open, ready to wrap into your frame. "I heard you're all ready for Jeju?"

[aphroditesmoon]

umm, you’re taking Gwen x reader? I have a request. Black cat reader who was best friends with Gwen and Peter but is the rival of Spider woman. Something or another happens and their identity’s get revealed

love it if we made it

gwen stacy x blackcat!reader (gn)

warnings: cursing, tiny angst, gwen's peter is alive here, reader has hair long enough to tie them (only description)

a/n: i rlly hope u like this!

°°°°°

A robbery happened on a Tuesday, 6th July 3AM sharp. A robbery in a golden jewelry store. A minute after that, the Pandora store next to it.

No one cared about the robbery, of course. People were too busy talking about the anonymous donation worth more than 15000 the next day to three different centres in need of them.

Gwen Stacy's mind however, is still stuck at a particular difficult nemesis, the black cat. She's never failed to capture a villain like this, never took this long. But again and again, with time, the annoyingly quick and sneaky cat escapes from her grasps.

It was probably obvious that she wasn't too enthralled by any of the breaking news today, all of them critiquing the infamous Spider-Woman for being unable to get her webs on the villain. Her mind was so full and blurry with different kinds of thoughts that she didn't notice her own best friend walking into class and waving at her.

You took your spot next to Gwen, creaking your chair loudly to get her attention. When she finally flinches out of hee daydream and looks at you, she's met with a knowing smile. "Sleeping? Its not even the first period yet." She shook her head and forced a smile out. "No, just dreading AP maths." You laughed at that. Gwen was good at maths, and all the stupid numbers and figures that came with it, that couldn't have been the reason.

"Well, whatever it is, I need you took a little alive for this gift im about to-" "Gift?" Her eyes brighten up immediately. You grinned at her and pulled out the small paperbag, waving it in front of her.

Gwen, impatient she is, snatches it from you and gets to opening its ribbons open. "It's not even my birthday." She mumbles. "Good, now you can't ask me for anything on your birthday." You settled it, earning a mischievous smirk from her. She knows, you would've given her anything if she'd only asked.

You revel in her suprised expression as she pulls out the golden bracelet, it was a waving design, two long whirling gold around in a circle, with a small blue diamond placed in the middle. "You are insane." She says, glaring your way. "What? Can't treat my girl?" The both if you turn slightly pink with those words. You should've just said your welcome.  "The blue reminded me of you. A centerpiece around all the golden whirly shit." She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. "I love it, thank you." You replied with a nod and your same small smile.

"This must've costed you a lot though,  couldn't you have bought me a two dollars friendship bracelet." She joked while putting the gift on her right wrist. "Oh don't worry, I stole it." You say with your usual tone.

Gwen almost backtracked when you said that, before hitting herself awake in her mind, forcing herself to leave the Spider-Woman alter ego aside for today.

You were making a joke because you didn't want her to feel bad, you always did. So she rolled her eyes before repacking the box and the paperbag to put them under her table. "You'd be a shit thief." She concluded. You furrow your brows. "Well then, at least I'd get to see Spider-Woman." You teased while wiggling your brows.

"I wonder how many people became really bad burglars and thieves just to get her autograph." The last of your sentence became muffled ariund the sounds of other students as your teacher finally arrive, but gwen who heard it all to well only smiled at the thought. 

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

School finished two hours ago, and neither of you saw or heard from Peter the whole day. He was probably at the lab again, as he always was so you didn't really bother.  Gwen, on the other hand, wouldn't stop trying to get him to answer his phone.

She's pacing around the room with her phone speaker on while you're laying on her bed, messing with her giant flower shaped plushie while she loses her mind. "Maybe he left his phone at home." You reasoned. Gwen shool her head and kept trying.  "He always lose his damn phone."

You frowned at her and decided you were done waiting. "Gwen, its over 10pm, I need to get back home, my dad will be worried." You say before getting up and taking your jacket from her coat hanger. "When has your dad ever even noticed if you're gone." She snaps, phone thrown on her bed in frustration. 

Your eyes widen at the words and you scoff at her.  She opened her mouth to apologize, immediately getting cut off. "Look, I don't know what spider has crawled up your ass these days, but we both know Peter's always disappearing these days, he's probably fine, and I'm going home since you're so worried over your friend that isn't in front of you." You ended the conversating as soon as it started, not giving her a chance to respond, you left her room, banging the door.

Your house was a few blocks away from Gwen's. When you're sure no one's around, you climb up quickly inti your room by the window, hands fast, some help from your claws. Tossing your backpack onto your bed, you changed into your suit without wasting time.

Gwen was right about something, your dad has long since noticed if you ever even came home these days. You jumped back out of your window, swinging upwards onto the roof instead of the streets.

You hopped from building to building, taking your time while enjoying the view. The lights. They were beautiful tonight,  accompanied by the bright moon, staring down from above. Even the neon signs of Joe's Pizza seemed pleasant to look at in times like this. You wished you could've shared these kind of moments with Gwen, but you didn't want to think of her now.

You find a spot above a tall empty building, where the ciry lights seemed clearer, and the smell of trash and dog piss was further away. Pulling your hair up in a bun, you tied it over twice, fixing it so you'll be able to see better without your hair always on your face.

And what a fate, as you're tilting your head down whilst your hands fixes the hairtie, a robbery happens right in front of your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at the crime, until you remembered you were also a criminal of a sort. This was interesting to see. A crime done by someone other than the Black Cat, finally.

The pleasure was shortlasting though,  when you had realized who was getting robbed. It was Peter. The masked man pulled out his gun, aiming it to Peter's face when he tried to run. "Run, and I'll shoot." His voice a mumble from below.

You move to stand up, backing away from any visibility, tiptoeing until you've reached the end of the building and hopped off, landing on your feet.

When you walked over the building to stand behind the robber, Peter's eyes involuntary widen,  as if a warning towards another civillian. But you weren't a civilian,  and when he takes in tbe suit and the masks, he realized who you were.

The robber gets annoyed when his eyes weren't on him anymore. "What the hell are y-" he spuns around towards you, receiving a kick to his stomach, making him fall on his back on the blow. You smiled at the victory watching Peter look between you and the fallen robber in confusion.

It seemed your victory didn't last long when a sling if webs shot againts your face.

You wretched the sticky web out of your face, growling in disgust. "Robbing an innocent citizen? That's low, even for you kitty." The annoying voice spoke. Once you manage tu cut the webs off fully with your claws. Regaining your vision,  you sneer at the ghost-spider, standing in front of Peter, who's finding protection behind her. "Is being blind apart of being spider-woman? I didn't rob him, I saved him." The hero's eyes squint along with her mask. "You? Saving people?"

Your eyes actually widen in offense before looking towards Peter. "Tell her doofus! I literally kicked him for you."

Gwen swings her head back at him and he stutters in panic. "Wh-I mean, yeah, she did, technically...kick him." You fold your eyes and glare at her as she turns back at you.  "See?" The two of you lock eyes for a minute long before she finally speak. "Peter Parker-" She calls him.

Both you and Peter frown at the name dropping . "-go home. I'll deal with her." The boy doesn't hesitate, turning his back and running way.

You snorted at her words. Always a show off. "You'll deal with me? How?" She tilts her head. "Like this." When you saw herbhand moving up, you move faster than her, snatching up her wrists in a tight grip as you push her againts the wall. "I might not have any venom on me, but try that again spidey, and I'll make you'll feel these claws for days." You see her physically wince at the words.

"You think just because you saved one man, that erases the 166 crimes you've done?" She asks sarcastically. You pout and pretends to think.  "I think, I really don't give a fuck, but its nice of you to remember all of my crimes, definitely not weird and obsessive or anything." 

She tries to speak again but you shush her when your eyes bore into the bracelet on her wrist. Firstly, who is stupid enough to wear their jewelry outside of their suit? Its like they're begging to be robbed.  Secondly; "Where did you get that bracelet?"

Your nemesis lets out a 'huh?' You repeat yourself, sterner. "I bought it?" You scoff. "You couldn't have bought something I've robbed." She seems annoyed by your questions. Being accused of stealing by a thief is pretty hurtful. "I could've brought it before you robbed it, you know."

You hummed thoughtfully at her words before you spoke. "You could've, or-" Your grip on her loosens, "-We're both just really, really, stupid." Gwen cocks her head in confusion. "What the hell are y-" realization hit her then. "Oh my god, no."

"No? Are you sure, Gwen stacy?" She winced at the mention of her name. Her hands move towards your mask. "How did I never..." Her words trails off a second before loud voices of people coming your way was heard. You pull her back swiftly into an alley, putting yourself between her and the open space.

The both of you lean yourselves againts the wall, you feel her fingers slowly slips into yours and holds back a tired sigh.

Once the group of kids has passed the alley, you finally relaxed. Her hands try to pull aw

ay but you curl your own fists around it.

She spins you back to her and her free hand moves to graze over your mask. "I didn't want you or Peter to be involved like this." She murmed. Your own hand slids around her waste as you lean closer. "I don't think it's up to you, Gwen." She huffs. "You know what I mean." You say nothing, eye staring down at your intertwined fingers. 

"Are you still going to get me arrested, spidey?" You could feel her glare from inside the mask. "What? Because I'm your friend, it all changes now?" You honestly ask. "Because I love you, and I know you and your heart, is why it's all different now. You're not who I thought you were, you can't be,  the Black Cat I've thought of before was evil in my head, evil and cruel."

You say nothing, waiting for her to continue. "You're not evil, and you're not cruel." You raised a brow. "Then, what am I?"  She's hesitates. "You're, with me. And I'm not going to let them take you, not anymore, whoever your secret identity is." Your mouth remains shut at that.

  All the bad jokes and sarcastic comments dies on your throat.  But your stubornnes always wins, "You didn't really seem to care much about me this evening."

Gwen groans loudly. "Come on, we'll go back to my place, I won't even look at the ground on the way home to shown you how much I'm paying attention to you now." You snort, a smile escaping you despite your efforts to remain upset at her.

[mercurycft]

𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 — 𝐆𝐒 . 𝐋𝐖 . 𝐊𝐖

## georgia, leah & keira !!

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this! I’ve missed writing over the last crazy weeks, i’m getting through all my messages & requests now! More parts of this to come! Thank you! Love always - RGx

1,786 words.

When Keira and Georgia first met, they were in school. Fifteen and wrapped in blazers that were at the very least a size too big, hanging down by their waists and protruding from their shoulders.

The pair weren’t totally unfamiliar, sharing a group of mutual friends - more specifically, Leah, who would throw their names around in conversations.

Leah had lived five minutes from Georgia practically since they were born. they spent years kicking about on the field outside Georgia’s house, seeing each other through years of school and friendship. That was until year seven found them both in different schools at different ends of the town - but somehow, through the mess of puberty and British secondary school, they never lost touch. instead opting for a weekly kick about on a Tuesday, which usually ended in a mess of laughter. The type of laughter that's silent and pure joyous, the kind that makes you hold your nose and cross your legs. most importantly, it worked.

Leah and Keira however, had met on the third day of year seven. football tryouts, obviously. Leah striking up a conversation about Keira’s boots, and helping her to tie the ridiculously long laces. They both made the team and made an even better pair. Keira, despite her small frame, dominated the mid field. Leah, with her big aspirations and an even bigger mouth, dominated the defence. They would scream across the field, calling to each other after a good pass and swearing under their breaths when the ball came off their feet in an unintended direction. It started at after-school practice, then lunch, then the days seemed to fall into weeks, then into months, then into years until their meeting became a soft memory of them.

It was the final day of school before May half-term, a Friday. It was still warm and light out, the sun still standing her ground as four o’clock rolled around and the final bell rang through the grounds. At the sound, Keira and Leah hurried to shove their belongings and clothes back into their kit bags - disregarding the need to actually remove either of their football kits and instead just slipping their blazer over the top.

The pair still slightly red in the face and breathing deeply as they sifted through the crowd in the common area, weaving through the bodies and towards the gates - arms linked and followed by a small group of other girls who they shared a pitch with.

Georgia’s day had finished earlier, her school day ending in a blur. At lunchtime, her phone buzzed in her blazer pocket. A text from Leah asking Georgia if she wanted to play in a friendly five-a-side match with some of the girls from her team. though she said it in far fewer words, something along the lines of. ‘g!!! five-a-side on the field tonight!! meet me from school, I’ll introduce u to the girls. love u x’ and that was that.

Georgia was already outside the gates by the time the bell rang, headphones in and looking down at her phone. She had her kit on too, beneath her blazer. A backpack slung over her shoulder and hanging low on her back, it was full to the brim - most likely with her uniform scrunched and shoved in amongst the books.

When Leah, Keira and the other football girls had finally managed to break out of the crowd and through the gates - Leah called out and pulled the group in Georgia's direction, spotting the girl standing hunched against the wall. Once she was close enough to be noticed, Georgia removed her headphones and pulled Leah into a side hug and laughed when they collided.

"You're sweaty get off!" She laughed, nudging Leah away playfully and turning her attention to the rest of the girls. "I'm Georgia! it's lovely to meet you!"

Before Keira could reply she was being hugged, smiling at the unexpected contact and letting out a loose laugh as the group errupted into harmonizing laughs when leah called from ahead of them.

"She's a hugger girls!"

They all finished their greetings, exchanging names and 'How are you's before they started to move away from the school. The walk to the field wasn't far at all, maybe 15 minutes and Georgia seemed to fit straight into the crowd. Laughing and joking with everyone, making sure they were all equally included.

After five minutes though, Georgia and Keira had managed to drift away from the other girls. Stood in a two behind the group, laughing and talking about football. they shared their favourite players and discussed matches they had been to, each of them excited at the presence of a new ear to chew off. they shared embarrassing football moments and silly cards they had received. This continued until they had reached their destination, still chatting as they threw their bags onto the grass and began marking their 'goalposts.'

It felt strange to Keira, it had never been easy for her to make new friends. But weirdly, it didn't feel like she was making a new friend in Georgia. Instead, it was as if they had been friends for years.

The match was fun, full of laughter and cheers. By the time they had finished up, the other girls had said their goodbyes and made their way home. leaving Leah, Georgia and Keira alone on the grass. they sat there for a while, laughing and talking until they had to leave. accompanying each other on the walk home, where Keira made sure to take Georgia's number to stay in touch.

They spoke every day.

—————————

Keira had never felt this way about a group of people before, or honestly about anyone at all. She wasn't a sociable child and that wasn't a trait she really ever grew out of - but with Leah and Georgia, her ability (or lack thereof) to make friends seemed to wither away.

The first time they spent the day as just a trio was in the summer. It was hot, with little breeze to put them out of their misery. Sprawled out on a pitch of grass by the stone beach, which was far too hot and crowded to even think about finding a spot. But laying on mismatched towels beside each other and sharing a big bag of doritos was enough for them.

The group stayed like that for hours, laid on their towels and sharing the snacks that Georgia had provided. They laughed until their ribs hurt, and kicked a ball about until they were sure their knees would buckle.

The day was slowly slipping away, the sun now drifting below the horizon and a chill settling into the air. At the now lack of heat, the girls concluded it was time to walk home.

They walked together, sharing a bottle of water and stopping every few yards in fits of laughter. The walk would usually take 15 minutes, but between them, they had managed to extend the walk to 45.

Georgia and Leah decided to walk Keira home first, considering she lived closer and they wouldn't want her to walk even a street's length alone. They escorted her right up to the front door, sharing a hug and a passing kiss on the cheek before saying their final goodbyes.

Keira watched them walk away from her house through the window next to the door, smiling absentmindedly as they faded from view. Watching Leah's ponytail swing as she shook her head, presumably at some stupid comment Georgia had made, Keira couldn't help by stifle a small and breathy laugh from her lips.

"This is it." she thought briefly. these were her people.

—————————

Almost a year later and they were still as close as ever. Spending evenings after school and spare time on the weekends as a trio. whether that be in town, or at each other's houses.

On this day, however, they sat on a small patch of grass behind Georgia's house. All three of them adorned in mismatched football kits their parents had strung together. They sat in silence for a minute or two, heaving for breath as they lay sprawled out after an all too intense round of quickfire penalties.

In this silence Keira lay fidgeting with the blades of grass beside her, twisting them between her fingers and ripping them from the ground. She knew she could tell them anything. They would never judge, just listen. So she was confused as to why an anxious fire began to spread through her stomach, around her limbs and across the back of her neck as she sat up in the grass and turned her body to face the pair head-on.

Georgia was the first to notice the look on Keira's face, raising herself to rest on her elbows with her eyebrows furrowed. "Kei? What's wrong?"

Leah sat up next, removing her arm from across her face and moving to face Keira as well. "You okay?" She whispered softly.

Keira was silent for a few beats, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before she started speaking. "I need to tell you both something and I don't want you to think of me any differently and I don't want you to not want to talk to me or hang around with me anymore and I just-"

"Keira, woah, slow down." Leah was always logical, but she was also fiercely caring. She placed her hand gently atop of Keira's on the grass. "Slow down, nothing you could ever say will ever make us not want to speak to you!"

"Yeah Kei, never." Georgia iterated, smiling.

"I like girls." She whispered. Looking down at the grass beneath her, avoiding the eyes now fixated on her. It was silent between the group for a minute before Georgia spoke up.

"You're still Keira."

[m1lflov3rrr]

heyy i wanted to ask if u could maybe do a smutty oneshot where larissa made yn wear a v1brator while teaching her class and she would often tease her while yn is explaining her lesson, if she made any noise she’d punish her but if she stayed quiet she will reward her

Oh, absolutely!!!! ;))) Here you go, should I make a part 2?

Never Tease the Principal (You’ll Regret It)

Pairing: Larissa Weems x wife!reader

Warnings: smut, teasing, edging, public?teasing, vibrator, mean mommy Larissa

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: You should have never teased your wife that morning, as it had consequences…

A/N: So sorry it’s taking so long in answering your requests, but I’m working on them!!! It’s just very hectic at the moment, thank you for your patience <3 Love ya’ll!! Also, sorry about the language mistakes!

”Good morning, Rissa.” You whispered to your wife who was still sleeping beside you. You planted a kiss on her cheek to try and wake her up. She stirred a little before opening her eyes and you couldn’t help but swoon a little at those sapphire eyes, staring at you so full of love. 

”Morning to you too, darling.” She mumbled with that hoarse morning voice of hers you loved oh so much. Her eyes went down to your lips and you noticed how she kept staring at your lips. You chuckled, knowing how usual it was for your wife to just keep zoning out in the morning. 

You snapped her out of her small trance by planting a gentle kiss on her soft lips, causing the blonde to jump a little and let out a small awkward laugh. You smiled in content at her, and suddenly she wrapped her arm to rest on your neck as she pulled you closer to her and closed the gap between you, kissing you surprisingly passionately. You let out a small moan as her tongue kept asking for permission to explore your mouth. And you, of course, gladly granted it. 

Before you knew it, your cute little moment had turned into a full-on makeout session, with your hands roaming across each others’ bodies and almost in places they should definitely not be at 6:38am on a random Tuesday. 

”We’re… going to be, ah, late…” You mumbled against her neck while she was panting heavily and gripping your hair tightly to keep you where you are. Although it seemed that Larissa Weems was probably the most organized, precise and always on-time kind of person, it was actually you who had more rationality in these situations. Although she would never admit it and you’d never tell that to anyone, for her sake. 

Larissa groaned in (sexual) frustration as she was reminded of it. She wanted you all to herself for the whole morning, hell, the whole day. And deep down, she was fucking needy. ”Can’t that… oh god!” She yelped as you slid your knee between her legs and felt her wetness pooling from her underwear and onto your thigh as she started not-so-subtly grinding on your thigh, seeking any friction she could possibly get. 

”What was that, honey? Can’t that…?” You whispered in her ear as she kept grinding herself on you, moaning louder and louder with some curse words an average person could never even imagine Larissa Weems using. 

She picked up her pace and you pinched her hardened nipples through her silk t-shirt. ”I said, ah, can’t that fucking wait! Oh, that feels so good, please, Y/N,” She was a moaning mess as you attacked her neck once more, leaving a noticeable trail of hickeys there that she’d have a hard time trying to cover up. 

”Are you close?” You purred against her ear, and received only some disheveled but vigorous nods and something along the lines of, ”Ah! Ah, yes, I’m so close, ah, ah! Don’t stop, please, I’m so close…” 

You chuckled evilly as you felt her pick up her pace even faster. And just as the coil in her stomach was about to snap, just as she was this close of falling off the edge, you pulled away. 

Larissa looked absolutely astounded as the smallest whimper escaped her lips and her eyes widened. ”W-what? Please,” 

You smirked, ”I already told you we’re going to be late, Rissa. We were supposed to get up 30 minutes ago, so get up!” You stood up and Larissa was staring daggers at you. 

You rounded the bed and pulled the blanket off her, ”Chop chop Rissa, the school isn’t going to run itself.” 

Larissa reluctantly stood up, pouting at you. 

You knew you were playing with fire, and you had no idea why had you woken up with a need to be burned. 

You went to the bathroom to get ready for the day, and your wife followed behind. As you were brushing your teeth, you felt a pair of arms gripping your waist tightly, almost like as a warning. You made eye contact in the mirror, and she lowered her head down to your neck and started sucking on your sweet spot. You closed your eyes in satisfaction and tilted your head on her shoulder to give her more access. You knew she was going to leave marks, she absolutely loved marking you, and always did. 

Your breathing picked up a bit as a small whimper escaped your throat. 

”You know,” She whispered in your ear as her hands slowly slid from your waist to groping your boobs, causing you to yelp as you felt her pinching your nipples cuite harshly. ”You’re really, really going to regret that little stunt you just pulled there, love.” 

Your eyes snapped open and you gave her a challenging look in the mirror, ”I’d like to see you try.” You said with that mischievous glint of yours that had grown very familiar to her. Had you known what the later cause of your words would’ve been, you definitely would have not said that. 

She hummed, as if in thought, and pulled away from you. ”I see how it is. Just know, that by the end of the day you will be begging for my forgiveness and my forgiveness only, you’ll be lucky to even remember your own name after I’m through with you.” She said before retreating back to the bedroom, leaving you standing there in front of the mirror, looking at yourself with wide eyes and a heaving chest. 

-

”Right? You should’ve seen his face!” Marilyn giggled as she was telling you what had happened a few days prior to her. 

You chuckled at her, ”Must’ve been priceless. Oh, won’t you look at the time! Only 15 minutes before my next class, I’d better go and prep a bit. I’ll see you later, Mari!” You blew your friend a kiss and she sent one back to you accompanied with a bright smile. 

You strolled through the empty hallways as the students were still having their lunch. Moments like this were one of your favourites in your day, as you got to see the corridors looking peaceful and quiet, something you really loved. The only other time you’d see the hallways like this was at night, so you’d really grown to appreciate these small moments. 

Your were bursted out of your peaceful bubble when suddenly a hand gripped your wrist tightly and pulled you to the closet you were walking past. 

For a second it was completely dark and you wiggled your hand away from whoever did that. ”What the hell?!” 

The lights turned on, revealing Larissa. You sighed in relief, laying a hand on your chest to exaggerate, ”Christ, Larissa, you scared me! What is up with you?” 

She didn’t say anything, she only had a dark look in her eyes, staring down at you as if you were her prey. 

You narrowed your eyes at her, ducking your head, ”You alright? Look, I’ve got no time for this, I have a class starting in 5-” You were cut off by her lips suddenly attacking yours. You moaned since she took you completely by surprise. 

She continued kissing you and slid her tongue into your mouth as she roughly pinned you against the wall, and you moaned louder as the pain on your back mixed with the pleasure. Her hands wrapped around your waist, slowly trailing lower and lower as she soon reached the buttons of your pants, quickly opening them. 

You frowned, ”Rissa, we can’t, not now! The students-” Your eyes widened as you saw what she pulled from her pocket. A vibrator. And you instantly realized which one it was. That. 

You shook your head with disbelief, staring at the toy with wide eyes, ”N-no…” 

”Oh, I’m not taking no for an answer. Remember what I told you earlier? That you’ll be begging for my forgiveness? I can be cruel too, sweet girl.” She slid a hand into your panties, rubbing your clit in slow circles as she gathered some of your wetness, making you breathe even heavier and your eyes roll back. 

”Ah, Rissa, stop, you know we can’t…” You pleaded with the last bit of your rationality. 

She rubbed even faster, and you bucked your hips against her hand, making her pull away. You huffed, but soon your eyes widened as she was spreading your wetness on the toy in her hand. And the rest of it she sucked off of her fingers in a seductive way, never breaking eye contact. 

Then, she wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you closer, turning you swiftly around so that your back was against her front. She had a strong grip on you, and it would be nearly impossible to wiggle out of her grip now. 

Slowly, she began lowering the vibrator, and when it hit your clit your head jerked back to, again, rest on Larissa’s shoulder. She turned it on the lowest setting and you began grinding down on it, hoping to get your release soon. 

But because it was Larissa, you had to not even bother getting your hopes up with that one. 

”Ahh, mommy… More, please mommy, I’ll be so good…” You whimpered. 

She chuckled against your neck as she brung the toy to your entrance, teasing it a bit before sliding it inside agonizingly slow. You gasped as you gripped her dress tightly. It was still on the lowest setting, vibrating enough to give you at least a bit of pleasure but nowhere near of getting you to reach your high. 

Then, suddenly she pulled her hands away and buttoned your pants again, you looked at her like she’d grown another head. ”What do you think you’re doing?!?” You sneered. 

She smirked as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. ”Getting my revenge. Now, you wouldn’t want to be late to your own class when the principal comes to inspect, would you now?” And she opened the door, acting like absolutely nothing had just happened in there. 

You would not survive today. 

-

”Hello everyone! Today, uh, you’re- the principal- principal Weems is coming to inspect our class, so, behave nicely, alright?” You informed the class and got some nods in answer. 

Larissa walked inside with her work smile, her gaze lingering on you and your heaving form for a bit longer than what would be considered appropriate. But no one even blinked an eye at this, since everyone knew you were Larissa’s wife. 

”Yes, indeed. I will be inspecting at the back of the class, so just behave like you normally would, pretend like I’m not here at all!” She exclaimed before walking to the back row. 

You watched as she sat down and shook your head to yourself. You could maybe handle it if she kept it set at this pace but not even a bit faster. 

And like she could read your mind, she pulled out her phone and suddenly you felt the speed increase rapidly, making you wince as you tried to keep your moans down. You noticed a few students looking at you weirdly, so you rounded the table and sat down. 

”Okay, guys, today we’ll be continuing the assignment I gave you last week, and if you’re done with that then you are free to go.” You explained. You hadn’t planned the class to go like this, but in hopes of not getting caught you had no other choice. 

But that instantly came back to bite you as only two students stood up and left. 

Great. 

There was a ping on your phone, and you picked it up to read Larissa’s message. 

Nice try, sweetling. Make one noice and you won’t be cumming for weeks, clear? 

You looked at the text in pure horror and felt the speed picking up increasingly, your breathing along with it. You looked at Larissa, who had an almost amused look on her face. 

You pulled out your laptop and hoped that you’d get even a bit distracted by typing out some emails and planning for the upcoming week. Everything seemed to be going fine, until- 

”Mrs. Weems? Could you come help me with this?” Enid asked with her hand raised. From the corner of your eye you could see Larissa’s soft smile at that, how you were addressed as Mrs. Weems. 

”Yes, Enid?” You tried walking as normally as possible over to her desk, clenching your fist shut and trying not to focus on the increasing speed of the toy. 

”Could you explain this task again? I’m sorry Mrs. Weems, I kind of spaced out when you were giving the instructions…” She said with apologetic eyes. 

You smiled softly at her, tilting your head and trying to look even a bit scolding. ”It’s alright, Enid. Now, you just write down everything you find useful… and, and.. then go over your text once more, ’kay?” 

She nodded with a smile, though she also frowned a bit by your unusual demeanor. As you were making your way back to the desk, out of the blue, Larissa set the vibrator to its highest setting so suddenly, causing you to gasp audibly and grab the desk for support. Almost every pair of eyes in the classroom were looking at you either with a weird or a concerned expression. You didn’t even have to look at Larissa to know that she had that infuriatingly amused expression on her face. 

”S-sorry, cramps..” You mumbled as you sat down behind your desk. 

And the rest of the lesson went by excruciatingly slow, with Larissa regularly picking up the speed and edging you, but turning it all off before you could release. You tried your best to not start sobbing in front of your students. 

”Alright, g-guys.. You can go now…” You sighed and luckily everyone got out of their seats swiftly and left the room. 

You gave the most furious death stare to your wife as you finally let the tears fall down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. 

She faux pouted at your state, locking the door and approaching you in a way only a predator would approach its prey. She took your chin between her fingers and tutted as you looked up to her through your eyelashes, panting slightly. 

”Are you going to behave now?” She asked with a hoarse tone, clearly enjoying the power play that was definitely there. 

You shivered at that tone, and obediently nodded as you bit your lower lip. Larissa’s eyes darkened at that as she let out a small chuckle, ”I certainly would hope so.” She breathed out, looking at you like you were the eight fucking wonder of the world. And to be true, to Larissa, you were. 

She pulled you in a bruising kiss as you felt the speed pick up again, causing you to whimper very audibly into her mouth. She smirked at that, pulling away as you looked at her with your best doe-eyes. 

”I’ll see you tonight, my love.” She whispered, pecking you quickly, but lovingly, one last time before leaving out the door. And she never took the vibrator out. And then, the pace picked up even more. 

Oh, you would absolutely not survive this day.