#when your favorite son comes back but brings his loser friend so you have to be nice but you are being tested so hard

[gruvu]

That’s how their interaction basically was right? I dunno I just found it funny.

[ticklishfiend]

Strawberry Milk (My Hero Academia)

Ship : Lee!Bakugou Ler!Kirishima (Kiribaku)

A/N : this took forever to make and it's the longest fic i've posted on this account so far, but i just had a lot of fun making it!! i hope you guys enjoy it, especially the lovely krbk anon who inspired this. they actually sent a few prompts that have inspired other krbk tickle fic ideas that i'll more than likely write for soon as well, but for now i hope you enjoy this!! much love <33

Summary : Kirishima stays for a sleepover at Bakugou’s childhood home, and after accidentally pissing off the explosive teen, seeks out some professional help from someone who may know the boy best: his father. From this, Kirishima learns a quick way from the boys childhood to get him forgiveness in no time.

Word Count : 5113 (jfc lmao)

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED!! MWAH <33

. . .

“Are you seriously mad at me over this?” Kirishima asked with a confused, breathy chuckle. He watched as his best friend pouted with arms crossed over his chest like a child, glaring daggers into the redhead from his spot on the bed.

“Yes. And I do not plan on changing that. So don’t fucking try me, Spiky Hair” Bakugou turned his body fully away from Kirishima now, who was lounged rather comfortably on Bakugou’s orange beanbag seated on the ground. Kirishima rolled his eyes at Bakugou’s childishness, though still couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty.

After months of practically having to beg the explosive teen for a sleepover at his childhood home, the blonde finally relented and allowed Kirishima to be a guest in his home for the weekend. Bakugou’s parents were actually pretty happy to have Bakugou back at the house, even if for such a short period of time, and were even more thrilled when they realized someone actually wanted to come with him. Bakugou was never really one for making (and keeping) close friends growing up, so this was something they were definitely excited over the prospects of.

He and Bakugou had been playing video games for the past couple of hours now, their most recent game that Bakugou was now practically fuming over being...Minecraft. Bakugou had gotten pretty attached to a wolf he unsurprisingly named “Prince Homicide,” but after bringing it to a cave while mining with Kirishima, the red-head had accidentally pushed it into a vat of lava, killing it almost instantly.

So that’s where the pair were now. Bakugou seething from his spot criss-crossed on the bed, now turned away from Kirishima with his arms crossed like a child towards the wall. Kirishima sighed, pushing himself off the beanbag and walking towards Bakugou’s door.

“Look, I’m gonna go get something to drink. You want anything?” Kirishima raised his eyebrows in hopes of a response.

“Die,” was all he got.

Kirishima bit back another chuckle, opening the door before turning his head back around to look at Bakugou, who was now fiddling with his sheets and grumbling to himself angrily. “Alright, well, I’ll be back in just a minute. Hopefully you’ll have calmed yourself down enough by then.”

“I AM CALM YOU RED-HAIRED LOSER!” Bakugou yelled at the door as Kirishima quickly walked out and shut the door to avoid the small blasts he could hear shooting from the boy’s palms. Kirishima just shook his head with a grin, making his way down the stairs and towards the kitchen.

When he arrived, he saw Bakugou’s father cooking dinner on the stove. It made Kirishima smile, reminding him of his own home a little, though he hadn’t been back home in a while. He did miss his moms quite a lot since moving to the dorms, and he’ll definitely have to invite Bakugou over to meet them sometime soon.

He could smell the amazing spices his father had been adding to whatever meat and noodles he had in the pot, the scent almost burning Kirishima’s nose from how spicy he could tell it was. ‘Obviously loving spiciness must run in the family,’ Kirishima thought as he opened up the fridge, alerting the father’s attention.

“Oh, Kirishima! Are you looking for anything specific?” the man asked, looking up from his steaming pot for a moment to smile at his son’s best friend. Kirishima shot a cheerful smile right back at him.

“Oh, just some water would be fine!” he nodded, grabbing a water bottle from one of the fridge drawers, before remembering the seething boy upstairs waiting for his return. He grinned. “Actually, what does Bakugou normally drink here? At the dorms he usually has protein shakes but you probably don’t have those just lying around,” Kirishima chuckled, sitting his water bottle down on the kitchen island to look at his friend’s father.

“Well, the boy doesn’t usually like to admit it but he’s quite keen on strawberry milk,” he smiled with a nod as he went back to stirring his pot, glancing over towards Kirishima with a grin.

“Shoot, really? Didn’t peg him for the strawberry milk type of guy,” Kirishima giggled, looking back in the fridge and noticing the few bottles of strawberry milk they had lying on the shelf, probably bought when they found out Bakugou was coming home for the weekend. “He’s kinda mad at me right now so I figured I’d make a peace offering.”

“Not a bad idea, kid. I’ve had to do my fair share of those over the years. Katsuki’s always been the rather...angry type,” Masaru’s eyebrows furrowed downward towards his pot, shaking his head as if thinking of all the times the boy must’ve lost his temper at his old man.

“What did you used to do when he was little? Y’know, whenever he got all...aah!” Kirishima accentuated his little growl imitating Bakugou by shaking his hands angrily in front of him, just like how Bakugou usually does when he’s about to blow someone to kingdom come. This made Masaru laugh, shaking his head and adding a few more spices to the pot.

“Well...as of now, I usually just let his mother handle everything. But when he was little, Mitsuki and I would usually just tickle the little guy ‘til he giggled all that anger out,” Masaru smiled at the fond memories, glancing over towards Kirishima who held a wide-eyed, shocked but excited expression on his face. Masaru chuckled, pointing his spoon towards the teen. “But you did not hear this from me, understand?”

“Oh, totally, I got your back 100% Mr. Bakugou,” Kirishima saluted the man with a grin, making him laugh once more with a fond shake of the head. Kirishima lowered his hand, finally grabbing the strawberry milk from the fridge and sitting it on the counter with his water, promptly shutting the fridge door. “So...that didn’t make him angry or anything? He wouldn’t, like, explode you and Mrs. Bakugou to ashes or something?”

“Well I’m still here to tell the story, aren’t I?” Masaru gestured to his body with his spoon, Kirishima nodding with a chuckle. “Nah, he used to love it when we did that! Sometimes I think he’d pretend to be angry on purpose just so we’d play ‘Claw’ with him.”

“Claw? What’s Claw?” Kirishima asked, now leaning on the counter with his head propped up on his hand, listening intently as if this was the single most interesting thing he’d ever heard (because in all honesty? It very well might’ve been).

“Oh boy, Claw was his favorite. I would always hold his hands down so he couldn’t get away, while his mother would make a claw hand and tickle it into his stomach and ribs. It always had little Katsuki in stitches,” Masaru was very obviously enjoying remembering these fond memories of his son, seeming like he had almost completely forgotten about these fun little moments until Kirishima had brought them all back to light. “We always did it when he was being bratty, but not bratty enough to deserve a time-out. Sometimes, though, he wouldn’t even have to do anything bad, he’d just come out and ask for Claw when he felt playful. It was always so cute,” Masaru grinned widely, looking over towards Kirishima and promptly pointing his spoon back at the boy. “And, again you didn’t hear any of this from me, but…”

He paused, almost debating whether or not this was a good idea. He was finally swayed on his decision, however, when he saw the bright look of excitement in Kirishima’s eyes at the prospect of an actually happy Bakugou. He couldn’t help but cave.

“...but if you wanna really get him laughing, his worst spots are the spot riiiiight under his armpits, and the sides of his thighs. You get him there and he’ll be forgiving you in no time.”

Kirishima nodded with a large, toothy grin, swiping the drinks off the counter and practically bouncing in his spot as he backed his way out of the kitchen. “Thank you so much, Mr. Bakugou. It was truly an honor to know you, but I’ve got a death sentence waiting for me upstairs.”

“You get him, kiddo!” Masaru shouted towards the teen as he scurried his way out of the kitchen and towards the stairs giddily.

Kirishima was practically cheesing when he made his way towards Bakugou’s childhood bedroom, and had to mentally and physically calm himself down before entering so as not to alert Bakugou of his devious scheme.

He pushed the door open, finding Bakugou to now be leaning with his back against the wall, arm propped up on his knee as he scrolled mindlessly through his phone. He scowled upon hearing Kirishima’s entrance, not even bothering to look up towards the boy as he grumbled, “Damn, I was hoping you were gonna stay down there all night.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes, tossing the milk onto the bed beside the blonde and hopping onto it himself. Bakugou’s eyes widened at the sudden movement beside him, eyes darting down to the drink on his bed before scowling back up at Kirishima. “How the fuck did you know I like this shit, I never drink it at school.”

Kirishima grinned, opening up his own water bottle. “Oh, just a little birdy,” he giggled, taking a sip of his water and watching as Bakugou begrudgingly took his own drink and started opening it as well.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you, moron. These are just...really good,” Bakugou wasn’t looking at Kirishima, obviously still angry as he went back to staring at his phone instead of paying the redhead any mind.

“C’mon, man, I didn’t mean to! It wasn’t on purpose!” Kirishima practically pleaded next to him, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder which was immediately shrugged off rather aggressively. “Look, I’m sorry. Would it make you feel better if I helped you find a new wolf?”

“Are you kidding me?! I’m not playing this shitty game with you anymore, you fucking suck at it!” Bakugou had a scowl on his face that looked like what he was saying was the single most obvious thing in the whole world. Kirishima just sighed, closing up his water and throwing it down on the bed.

“I’d hate to make you, Bakugou, but you may just force my hand,” Kirishima shook his head slowly as if in disappointment, only making Bakugou’s brows cross in confusion.

“The fuck do you mean ‘make me,’ you idiot?! You can’t force me to do shit, and I’m not fucking playing this game with you,” Bakugou pushed, and to anyone else it definitely wouldn’t sounded like he meant it. But Kirishima knew Bakugou far, far too well. He could hear the competition in his voice, see the spark of want in his eyes that just said ‘please fight me on this.’ He wanted a challenge. Kirishima could see that. And boy was he gonna give it to him.

“Oh, but can’t I?” Kirishima’s voice sounded almost taunting, and once he saw that Bakugou was looking at him with competitiveness painted all over his face, he brought both of his hands up to wiggle fingers menacingly towards the boy.

Bakugou instantly knew what he meant. And if the fact he immediately closed his drink and sat it on his nightstand was no indication that he wanted this to continue, the way he backed up on his bed cautiously with wide eyes instead of immediately fighting Kirishima back most definitely was.

He was excited.

“Kirishima, don’t you fucking dare,” Bakugou pressed through a lie, his eyes never once looking away from those still wiggling fingers taunting him in the air, as if too embarrassed to look Kirishima in the eyes and completely give it away that he wanted this, he wanted the fight. He didn’t have to look for Kirishima to know, though. The redhead was still able to see Bakugou’s face even if Bakugou wouldn’t look at him, and he could see the giddiness behind his wall of caution, which only pushed him to continue.

“Then let’s play the game, Bakugou,” Kirishima grinned as Bakugou gave him no response, only backing further away until finally Kirishima pounced, tackling and fighting Bakugou to the bed. This was the least Bakugou had ever put up a fight with him. Kirishima knew how Bakugou fought, he knew just how skilled and precise his moves always were, and he was giving Kirishima practically none of that. Though he did technically fight his way down, he was still inevitably completely tackled and pinned by the redhead, which almost never happened in their regular spars and play fights.

Kirishima forced Bakugou’s arms up above his head, the hardening hero-in-training using his quirk to keep the boy’s hands pinned there for good. His body hovered over Bakugou’s, a rather compromising position if they were to be walked into, but neither boy cared about that in the moment. They were too focused on the excitement and unadulterated giddiness bubbling in the pit of their bellies, and as Kirishima gazed down at Bakugou with a look of mischief in his eyes, Bakugou knew he knew. Kirishima knew Bakugou wanted this, and now the blonde was aware of that. Bakugou couldn’t quite tell if that made this better or worse.

“Fine then. We can play a different game. How about…” Kirishima paused, mocking as if in hard thought as Bakugou’s lips twitched, his eyes wide in a skittish anticipation. Kirishima finally let out a small pretend gasp, looking down at Bakugou before raising up his free hand in a claw shape. “...Claw.”

Bakugou’s eyes could not have been any wider. His cheeks were stained pink, and he squirmed under Kirishima’s pin, “No, nonono don’t you dare fucking touch me you red piece of shit, I swear to god I’ll fucking-HNG!” Bakugou choked on his words, eyes slamming shut as he felt five meticulous fingers skittered over his now bare tummy, as Kirishima must have pushed up his shirt while Bakugou was too busy threatening. Those nails were fucking torturous against his skin, his nerves lighting up and sparking with a specific feeling he hadn’t felt in what had to be years now. It was so bad, so so bad, but...god, he didn’t realize just how much he had missed this feeling until now.

“Uh oh,” Kirishima’s voice held a teasing tone that made Bakugou shake his head, still trying desperately to hold back any and all giggles that threatened to crawl from his gut. Kirishima chuckled darkly. “Looks like someone’s a little ticklish, huh?”

Bakugou only continued to shake his head from side to side, tugging at his pinned arms with no real fervor behind it. Kirishima couldn’t help the smile on his face seeing the boy like this, so flustered and obviously having a good time at something so cute. He could tell Bakugou was desperately trying to contain his giggles, which was definitely his average pride slipping through, but there was no way Kirishima was just going to let that slide.

With a smirk evil enough to send shivers down the blonde’s spine, Kirishima finally dug in, vibrating all five of his fingers into the boy’s taut abdomen. Bakugou howled, arching his back and kicking wildly behind Kirishima as loud giggles and squeals escaped his ever-excited being.

“NAHAHAHA! KIRISHIMAHAHAHA!” Bakugou screamed, those fingers never relenting in their claw-shaped torment on his belly. “SHIHIHIT AHAHAHA!”

“Damn, Bakugou, you’re really ticklish,” Kirishima chuckled, massaging his fingers into the boy’s muscles, causing his to spasm like he’d been shocked, screaming and kicking and cursing all the while.

“FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU AHAHAHA!” Bakugou guffawed, twisting and turning his body every which way as if he was trying to escape the mirthful torment Kirishima was putting him through. Suddenly, all at once, the tickling stopped, and Bakugou let in a gasp of air he didn’t even realize he needed. He opened his eyes and glared at Kirishima hovering above him, the redhead daunting a sinister grin that made Bakugou’s tummy do summersaults.

“What did you just say to me?” Kirishima questioned menacingly, bringing his free hand up to now hold Bakugou’s wrists in both hands, quickly bringing them both down under his knees with no fight from the blonde, who seemed to be frozen in...fear? Excitement? Either way, his eyes were blown wide, his chest heaving slightly from the attack and small titters still threatening to escape. But Bakugou was never one to back away from a challenge, no matter his condition. He couldn’t help the small twitch at the corners of his lips as he looked up to Kirishima in competition.

“I said: Fuck. You,” Bakugou spat out, and Kirishima could feel his body tense under him after he spoke the fierce words, almost like he was bracing himself for the inevitable. Kirishima shook his head with a grin, raising both his hands up in the air to once again wiggle tauntingly towards his victim.

“Oh, you are so gonna regret that,” Kirishima chuckled, lowering his hands down slowly towards the boy’s quivering belly. His stomach sucked in as if trying to evade the wiggly fingers, Bakugou’s eyes large and never looking away from those claws hovering over his sensitive torso.

Finally, his fingers touched down, skittering over the boy’s lower tummy and making his breath hitch, pursing his lips tightly and slamming his eyes shut at the teasing sensations. Kirishima’s fingers wandered and scribbled all over the boy’s torso, and for a few seconds Bakugou was able to keep his reactions at bay. That is, until Kirishima skittered on a spot right at the base of Bakugou’s ribs, causing the boy to jolt with a small yelp. Kirishima couldn’t contain his chuckle at the reaction.

“Ohoho, there it is,” Kirishima drawled, pinching at the spot that made Bakugou squirm. Bakugou growled, almost like he was trying to keep any cute little giggles to himself, but those incessant pinches just wouldn’t let up, and in seconds time he was a giggling mess under Kirishima’s touch.

“Nohoho! Fuhuhuck shihihit!- AHAHAHAHA NAHAHAHA!” Bakugou practically screamed when he felt Kirishima vibrate his index and middle finger into that spot at his lower ribs right where it meets his back. He arched his spine up, kicking fruitlessly behind Kirishima’s body and cackling like a child all the while. “YOHOHOU BAHAHASTARD! YOHOHOU FUHUHUCKING SHIHIHIT!”

“Well that’s really no way to talk to your best friend, now is it?” Kirishima tsked, clawing at Bakugou’s ribs and eliciting more screeches and cackles from the sensitive teen. “You’re so much more ticklish than I thought you’d be, I am loving this.”

“STAHAHAP SAHAHAYING THAHAHAT!” Bakugou shook his head back and forth, clenching his fists hard under Kirishima’s knees as if trying to keep himself from exploding the both of them both to ashes.

“What? That you’re ticklish?” Kirishima tilted his head with a smirk, pinching up and down the boy’s ribs rapidly, making his laughs soar up in pitch. “Cause, I mean, you are. You’re like, super duper ticklish! But it’s fine cause it’s totally cute,” Kirishima said the last bit without really meaning to, blushing slightly at his blunt statement, but deciding against ending the ticklish torment over it.

“NAHAHAHA! I’M NOHOHOT CUHUHUTE!” Bakugou denied through his cackles, continuing to shake his head in playful anguish. “FUHUHUCK OHOHOHFF!”

“Hmm...I don’t think I will. In fact, there’s a few more tickle spots I wanna try out, so you’re just gonna have to keep a-giggling for me, Bakubro,” Kirishima chuckled, taking his hands off the boy for a moment to give him a breather. Small breathy giggles and titters continued to spill from Bakugou’s lips during his rest, his head leaning back against the pillow in almost exhaustion. Kirishima leaned forward, placing both of his hands beside the boy’s head, leaving his face to hover over the boy’s own blushed one. Bakugou’s eyes widened a bit at the invasion of personal space, but never made an effort to push him off. Kirishima tilted his head like a curious puppy, “You’re okay, right? You don’t like, totally hate this? Cause I can stop if you really want me to.”

Bakugou’s cheeks were splattered pink, his eyes averting their gaze from the boy on top of him. He squirmed a tad under Kirishima’s straddle, shoulders hunching up slightly in embarrassment. “I mean...it’s not...the worst thing in the world…” Bakugou grumbled into his shoulder, eyes still refusing to meet the red-head’s own.

Kirishima grinned down at Bakugou, using one hand to gently cup Bakugou’s chin and turn his head to face his own. “I knew you didn’t hate it. I just wanted you to say it out loud,” he giggled at the blonde’s flustered and shocked expression, before quickly shooting his hands down to squeeze at Bakugou’s ribs with extreme ticklish precision. Bakugou shouted a cackle at the sudden change, his head shaking from side to side and eyes scrunching closed once more.

“OHOHO YOHOHU MOTHERFUHUHUCKER!” Bakugou guffawed, clawing at the sheets under Kirishima’s knees. Kirishima just giggled, working both of his middle fingers in between the tight spot where Bakugou’s arms were clamped against his ribs, digging into the spot just below his underarms that Masaru had told him about.

Bakugou shrieked, kicking harder than before as wave after wave of loud, unfiltered squeals and cackles left his chest.

“SHIHIHIHIT! FUHUHUCK OH MY GAHAHAD! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE! NAHAHAT THAHAHAT SPOHOHOT YOU FUHUHUCK!” He screamed through his laughter, opening an eye to glare at Kirishima through his mirthful tears. Kirishima sported the biggest, shark-toothed grin he could probably muster, and it sent fluttering butterflies throughout the inside of Bakugou’s entire torso.

“Aww, is this spot bad, buddy? This spot tickle?~” Kirishima cooed, his fingers never relenting as they wiggled and dug into that one torutrous little spot that had Bakugou howling.

“FUHUHUCK YOHOHU! YEHEHES! IT T-AHAHA! IT FUHUHUCKING TI-HEHEHE!” Bakugou couldn’t even get the flustering word out through all of his cackles and squeals, which amused Kirishima to no end.

“God how are you so adorable like this,” Kirishima sighed, finally bringing his fingers back down to teasingly scribble and wiggle all over Bakugou’s bare tummy. Bakugou dissolved into a puddle of high-pitched, breathy giggles, that had Kirishima fawning over him in seconds. “You’re so giggly, and I didn’t even know you could giggle before this!”

“Shuhuhut uhuhup!” Bakugou practically whined through his giggles, his cheeks so pink and warm Kirishima could just melt in the cuteness of his flustered face.

“Oooh, I wonder if your belly button is ticklish too,” Kirishima eyed the little navel that bounced through Bakugou’s laughter, one of his fingers travelling over to circle around the button teasingly.

“NO! Nohoho, dohohon’t! Plehehease!” Bakugou pleaded, though Kirishima knew it was all just a front.

“Wow, I’ve got THE Katsuki Bakugou begging right now? Who knew I’d ever see the day!” Kirishima chuckled, worming a teasing nail into the navel and causing Bakugou to shriek and jerk underneath him. “Aww, it’s like a little giggle button!”

“Dohohon’t sahahay that stuhupid shihit!” Bakugou tittered, goosebumps forming all over his tummy from the feather-light way Kirishima scribbled over the skin.

“Alright, oneeee more place I wanna try, then we get back to Minecraft. Deal?” Kirishima moved his fingers to scribble slowly up and down the boy’s sides to let him respond, delighted at the way the movement made him squirm.

“Fihihine, whatehehever,” Bakugou braced himself for the final attack, gasping when he felt Kirishima’s hands leave his sides and rest on the top of his thighs. “Shit, shihit, shit, wahahait-!”

“Oh, this is a good spot, isn’t it?~” Kirishima teased, squeezing the muscle once to see Bakugou jerk and shriek under him. “Yup. Looks like a good one to me.”

“Ohoho plehehease, I cahahan’t, it’s so bahahad-” Bakugou whined, squirming and giggling despite Kirishima’s tickling on his thighs to even start yet.

“You’re a super ticklish guy, Bakugou, but you’re also super tough and manly. I know you can take it!” Kirishima hyped him up with a smile, just making Bakugou groan and roll his eyes with a snicker. “C’mon! Tell me you can take it!”

Bakugou huffed, gazing over at Kirishima’s face that plastered that stupid goofy grin of his. God why does he have to be so cute, Bakugou thought as he sighed with another eye roll.

“Fine, whatever, I can take it, just...fuckin get it over with already, you’re killing me heRE-HRGN! FFFAHAHAHAHA OH SHIHIHIT!” Bakugou keened, cackling and thrashing himself from side to side as both of Kirishima’s hands massaged into his upper thighs. The sensation was torturous, beyond torturous, his nerves were on fire and his muscles were pulsing under those terrible wiggling fingers, but if he could choose it, he’d feel like this forever if it were by the hands of that stupid fucking redhead.

“Damn, this must tickle bad , huh? You’re losing your mind!” Kirishima giggled, squeezing at those sensitive muscles like his life depended on it.

“FUHUHUCK! YEHEHES IT’S SO BAHAHAD! KIRIHIMAHAHAHA! PLEHEHEASE!” Bakugou pleaded and begged, tiny droplets of mirth finally pooling at the corners of his eyes despite his best wishes. Kirishima could tell the blonde was finally reaching his limits, and slowed his fingers down until he was just resting his hands on top of the boy’s thighs comfortingly, rubbing up and down the sides to soothe the still giggling boy.

Kirishima smiled down at Bakugou who was still coming down from his giggle high, titters that could light up a whole room spilling from his lips and making Kirishima’s heart swell. “You alive, man?”

Bakugou coughed out his last giggle, still breathing heavy before giving Kirishima a lazy nod. Kirishima giggled, gently climbing off the boy and laying down beside him on the bed. Bakugou brought his hands up to rub at his still flushed face, and Kirishima couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. The red-head was grinning ear-to-ear, and he could tell that under the palms of those calloused hands covering Bakugou’s face, the blonde was too.

After a few more moments of comfortable silence, Bakugou brought his hands down, turning his head to face Kirishima with a small smile still visible, only on the corners of his lips. “You almost killed me, you bastard.”

“Sorry, you were...you were just really cute like that. I’ve never seen you giggle before,” Kirishima chuckled sheepishly, eyeing Bakugou’s nearly forgotten drink still sitting on the nightstand. He pointed over to it, Bakugou’s following the direction of his finger. “You should probably get a drink, you were laughing pretty hard there.”

Bakugou huffed, his cheeks flushing only slightly at the comment, but he still rolled over to grab the drink and turn back around to face the redhead. “Shut up, I can’t help it.”

“Yeah, I know...too ticklish for your own good, huh?” Kirishima snickered, Bakugou punching his shoulder playfully while taking a sip of his milk. Kirishima rubbed the spot Bakugou punched with a grin. “I’m being serious, though. You really did look cute like that.”

Bakugou’s eyes refused to meet Kirishima’s. His hands cupped tightly around the bottle in his lap, thumbs fiddling with the plastic wrapper encasing it. Kirishima could see how flustered he looked despite their eyes not meeting and he almost felt a little guilty. But Bakugou finally glanced up towards Kirishima, and for the first time ever, the blonde looked...shy. “Do you really think that or are you trying to fuck with me right now? Cause it’s not very nice to fucking flirt with someone if you don’t mean it.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened a little at his bluntness to call it what it was; flirting. “Well, y-yeah. Yeah I meant it. For real,” Kirishima said, but he could tell Bakugou wasn’t sure if he meant it. Kirishima furrowed his brows, cupping Bakugou’s chin gently like he had while attacking the boy just minutes ago, turning his head so their eyes would meet. He stared intently at him, making sure his expression was as genuine as a person could be. “I’m serious, Bakugou. I...I think you’re really attractive,” Kirishima saw how Bakugou’s eyes moved, how he felt frozen under his touch but still somehow looked like he wanted to squirm. “You’re cute and super manly, which I didn’t even know could be a real combination until I met you. You’re...you’re my favorite person, Bakugou.”

They sat like that for a moment. Kirishima brought his hand back down to rest in his own lap, but their eyes never left each other. That was, until, Bakugou’s eyes drifted downward towards Kirishima’s lips. Kirishima’s heart faltered for a minute at the gaze, feeling hair standing up at the back of his neck. Bakugou’s eyes darted back up to Kirishima, a tilt forward in his head that asked Kirishima ‘is this okay?’ Kirishima just nodded with half-lidded eyes, before Bakugou slowly leaned forward, his own eyes closing as their faces finally met in the middle when Kirishima pushed his own head forward.

Their lips brushed shyly against one another, as if cautious and unsure if this was an okay thing to do, before Kirishima pushed into it, forcing their lips together. Bakugou brought a hand up to cup at Kirishima’s cheek, Kirishima doing the same to Bakugou. Bakugou felt like he was going to melt, or explode, or disintegrate or...or just keep kissing Kirishima until he couldn’t breathe.

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled apart, breathless and hazy. Kirishima opened his eyes first, and when Bakugou opened his and looked at Kirishima with those shy little eyes he didn’t have before, Kirishima couldn’t help but dissolve into a fit of giggles. His laugh was always too contagious, damnit, and before he knew it Bakugou was giggling along with him and he didn’t even know why.

When he finally caught his breath, Kirishima slumped back against the pillows of Bakugou’s bed, Bakugou following him to lay there and stare questioningly. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just...you tasted like strawberry milk.”

Bakugou paused for a moment, before chuckling, shoving at Kirishima playfully as they both snickered. “You’re a fucking dork.”

“Hm, maybe,” Kirishima giggled as he brought his face back closer towards Bakugou’s, meeting their lips once again in a soft kiss that lasted forever.

Kirishima would definitely have to thank Mr. Bakugou later for that helpful information about his son, because now their night tasted like strawberry milk and giggles, and Kirishima didn’t want anything else in the entire world than just that.

. . .

A/N : hope you guys enjoyed that, sorry its so fucking long LMAOO i got very carried away. it took me a while to write and ive got a fucking headache so imma go lay down now, MUCH LOVE!! <33

[rodr1cks]

Heather Hills | 1.3k

part one

neighbor trope where you’re in love with Rodrick but he can’t stop pining after Heather Hills, takes place during Dog Days

“Rodrick, she ran over your fucking foot for christ’s sake!” He rolled his eyes at you from his position on his bed. “She’s into me, I know it. How could she resist?” Rodrick wasn’t wrong, he was pretty irresistible, to you at least.

The way his dark hair fell messily over his forehead, the adorable moles on his face, and oh god, his hands. Everything about him captivated you but he could never know. Rodrick liked girls like Heather Hills.

“Y/n? You there?” He said, waving a hand in your face. “Yeah- uh- sorry.” You had zoned out thinking about everything you wish you could do with Rodrick. “I uhm- gotta go. Keep your foot elevated, I mean it.” You gave him your most serious glare and got up from his bed. Rodrick winced at the movement.

You made the trek down the two flights of stairs to the main level where Mrs. Heffley was making dinner. “Hey, dear, is Rodrick doing alright? Did he tell you what happened?” You smiled faintly at her. “Oh he’s just fine. He said he tripped over a rock chasing Greg around.” Mrs. Heffley sighed, “Sounds about right. Well, would you like to stay for supper? We’re having your favorite!”

Mrs. Heffley was always so kind to you, she probably realized you’re the only girl who is actually nice to her oldest son. “Thank you for the offer but I have some work to catch up on.” Truthfully, you just wanted to go home and cry in your bed.

You immediately crawled into your bed as soon as you got home and started going down the list of things Heather Hills had that you didn’t. Blonde hair, tits, friends, popularity, the list continues. You fell asleep mulling over all of your shortcomings.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Rodrick smiled at you slyly. Oh god he has a plan. It always turned out bad when he gave you that look. “So, do you wanna hit the country club with me today?” Your brow furrowed in confusion, “You, Rodrick Heffley, are asking me to go to a country club?” “Yeah, Greg’s chubby friend can get us in.”

He was referring to Rowley Jefferson and he was completely serious. You shrugged in agreement. A smile broke out on his face and he smirked, “Wear something… skimpy.”

You walked back to your house to put on a skimpy bathing suit, per Rodrick's Instructions . What did that mean? Did he want to see you in something revealing? Thoughts aside, you rummaged through your drawers until you found it.

The smallest bikini you owned. It was black and the bottoms were nearly a thong. You put on the top, the minuscule triangles only covering the bare minimum. You threw on a Löded Diper t-shirt that was two sizes too big, courtesy of Rodrick.

You ran outside to meet Rodrick at his van, “Ready?” You nod at him. You had never felt so anxious before in your life. Rodrick reached over to turn the music up and you flinched. “Woah, woah, you okay over there, y/n?” Your face flushed, “Oh yeah, I-I’m fine,” you stammered.

After a short but bumpy ride, you guys arrived. “Follow me,” Rodrick said in a hushed voice. Apprehensively, you did as he asked.

“Rodrick, it reeks back here, when did you say Greg will get here?” Rodrick was obviously just as frustrated as you were but he assured you it would be any moment. Just then, the locked gate rattled. “Finally! Greg, my man!” Rodrick gave his younger brother a couple slaps on his back and you giggled. It was rare to witness them getting along, it was sweet.

The country club was nice. Rodrick led you over to a couple of chairs, “Make yourself at home, señorita.” Rodrick plopped down and stretched his arms behind his head. God, his muscles. You removed your shirt before you sat, and hovered for a moment. You were holding your arms around your stomach and looking around, discomfort evident on your face. So many beautiful girls there made you feel lesser. “Hey, y/n, you look great. Relax.” You instantly felt more at ease. For a while, you and Rodrick just sat and enjoyed the day.

Then you saw her. It was her. Heather Hills in a lifeguard suit strutting past both of you. You sat up and so did Rodrick.

“H-hey Heather!” Rodrick called after her. She made a noise of disgust, “As if, loser!” Rodrick huffed, “Damn it, you weren’t enough? I need to get to her somehow.”

Your heart dropped, you were there to make Heather Hills… jealous? “Rodrick? Did you bring me here just to-“ He cut you off, “Yeah yeah, one minute y/n.” He completely dismissed you and ran off.

You were livid. Absolutely enraged. You could be sad later but right now you needed Rodrick to know how furious he’d made you. The splash he made when he jumped into the pool caught your attention.

What the fuck was he trying to do?

Rodrick began flailing his arms around, splashing and gasping, “Help! Help me I’m drowning!” He cried out similar exclamations for the next minute or so. You’d seen enough. You grabbed your things and left, you’d walk home. Greg stopped you on your way out, “I’m sorry y/n, maybe he’ll realize soon.” You sighed, ruffing up Greg’s hair. How was Greg already smarter than Rodrick?

Jesus your house was further than you thought, did you even know where you were? Whatever, you’d figure it out. You were kicking pebbles along the sidewalk when you heard his van pull up beside you. “Y/n, get in the van,” he called out. You ignored him. “C’mon,” he yelled, “let me make sure you get home safely, please.” You gave in, you were tired of walking anyways. “Thank you,” he said when you plopped down in the passenger seat.

The van stopped abruptly in front of your houses. You broke the awkward silence and started going off on him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?. You used me to try and get to Heather Hills? Y’know how shitty that made me feel? For a second I thought- I really thought-” You paused, “Forget it.” You flung open your door and stormed into your front door. Rodrick was still absolutely oblivious.

He decided to give you some space and go to his own home. Greg was sitting on the floor playing twisted wizard when Rodrick walked in. “You still don’t get it do you?” Greg asked. Rodrick, visibly annoyed, quipped back, “Nothing to get, little bro,” and bounded up the stairs.

You woke up, groggy. You had fallen asleep at some point after getting home. What time is it? It was only 4pm. You heard knocking on your back door, Great. Dramatically, you flung the door open, already knowing who it was. You gestured, reluctantly inviting him in. Remembering what you were wearing, you blushed. You were still in a large t-shirt and bikini bottoms.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I talked to Greg about it and I understand how stupid I am.” He seemed genuinely embarrassed. You took pity on him, how could you not? “It’s okay, Rodrick. I overreacted.” He smiled, “Great! Because I have great news!” You returned the smile, half-heartedly. “What’s your news?” “Okay, so after you left, Greg scored me a gig at Heather Hills’ sweet 16! Can you believe it?”

There was that feeling again, your heart shriveling and dropping to the depths of hell. Greg didn’t get through to him, after all. “Oh that’s- that’s great, Rodrick.” You really tried to seem enthused. “When is it?” you asked. “It’s in a week and you’re totally coming with, I need my favorite roadie there!” Rodrick was sweet sometimes, just not in the way you wanted. At least he wanted you there.

+hi hi this was my first fic in a long long time!! hope you enjoyed:) stick around for part 2

read part two here

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[freddie-weaselbee]

Reflection//F.W.

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Implied eating disorder, implied body dysmorphia, body insecurities, insecurities in general, mentions of food/drink, language, angst, fluff, sad and insecure Freddie :(

Summary: Fred can’t even look at his reflection without feeling bad about himself and thinking about how you deserve so much more than anything he has to offer. 

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. No matter who you are or what you look like, you are absolutely beautiful. If you or if you know anyone who suffers from body dysmorphia (specifically men because it’s not talked about enough), please reach out to someone and learn more. My messages are always open!

Arthur Weasley. Molly Weasley. Bill Weasley. Charlie Weasley. Percy Weasley. Fred and George Weasley. Ron Weasley. Ginny Weasley. The Weasley family. While all connected by their Gryffindor house and flaming red hair, each member of the family was unique in their own sense. 

Arthur and Molly were the parents. Arthur’s fascination with Muggles as a Pureblood and Molly’s blunt but loving motherly nature were what set them apart. 

Bill was the oldest, the golden child. He was loved at Hogwarts and became a successful curse breaker. No one ever had problems with the wonder that was Bill Weasley. 

Charlie forged his own path. The great Hogwarts Quidditch star who likely could have gone professional, had he not found his passion in dragons and made a new life for himself in Romania.  

Percy. Perfect prefect Percy, the one who would grow up to be the Minister of Magic, at least that's what everyone thought. He had every aspect of his life perfectly planned out down to the last detail, and oh how Molly loved her rule-abiding son, never a troublemaker. 

Ron had a more difficult time making a name for himself. The youngest brother in the family and yet not quite the baby. However, his friendship with Harry Potter and their knack for getting themselves into trouble every year made Ronald Weasley a known name around Hogwarts. 

Ginny was the only girl, which made her unique already.  Not only that, but she was fantastic at Quidditch, had the heart of a true Gryffindor Lion, and was overall a kind, vivacious, adventurous soul. 

Each Weasley had one thing that set them apart. Everyone, that is, except the duo that could never be separated. 

Fred and George Weasley. Not Fred Weasley and George Weasley. Fred and George. As if they were one person, joined at the hip with the same ideas, the same personalities, and the same feelings. No matter how hard they tried when they were younger, everyone always came back to calling them Fred and George. Even their own mother often got them mixed up, and showed no care in doing so. As long as it was one of the twins she was alright

. 

Once their years at Hogwarts started, the two boys decided to stop fighting the inevitable, and thus began their reign as “Fred and George Weasley, Prank Master Extraordinaires.” They were always together. They were both Quidditch beaters. They pulled some of the finest pranks Hogwarts had ever seen together. They sat next to each other in all of their classes and would sometimes switch seats or call each other the wrong name to see if anyone else would notice. They never did. 

“Freddie, you coming?” you asked your boyfriend, jumping up onto his back. It was Hogsmeade weekend, which meant the tradition of you and your friends raiding Honeydukes, Zonkos, and finishing out at The Three Broomsticks was minutes away from happening once again. Fred laughed and spun around, quickly getting dizzy and pulling you both down into the Gryffindor couch. 

You rolled on top of him and pulled his chin in for a quick kiss, limbs awkwardly tangled in each other as you shared a sweet moment with the ginger you’d been dating for the last 3 months. 

“Ugh my eyes!” George stood behind the couch, hands covering his face in order to shield his view from the innocent scene in front of him. 

“Oh shut up George,” you said. “You’re just jealous.”

Fred smirked at his slightly younger brother and pulled you down into a deeper kiss. “Yeah, jealous,” he mumbled against your lips, which resulted in George physically separating your faces with his hands. 

“You two disgust me,” he scoffed. “Are you guys ready?”

Fred struggled against his brother’s hand for a second trying to recapture your lips once again, but he eventually gave up once you caved and pulled away. 

“I’m all set, has everyone else already left?” The rest of your small friend group consisted of Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet, who you had been close with since your first year. The three boys would run off and pull horrendous pranks while you, Angelina, and Alicia would roll your eyes, secretly coming up with new ideas for jokes to pull on Filch. 

George jumped over the couch and hoisted you up by your arms, his strength making you fly through the air for a few seconds before you landed shakily on the warm rugs decorating the floor. 

“Yep,” replied your friend. “They said they’d meet us in the Courtyard and we can go from there. If I remember correctly it’s your turn to buy butterbeers.” 

You groaned and threw your hands to your pocket, making sure you had the money. “I thought you would’ve forgotten about that.”

George wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave you a brotherly squeeze. “Never, love. Let’s get going.”

Giggling, you walked in step with your best friend and wrapped an arm around his waist. You turned your head and put out your other arm, gesturing for Fred to come join you. 

“C’mon, Fred, what’re you waiting for?”

Fred wasn’t waiting for anything. In fact, the longer he saw you interact with George, the less he wanted to spend the day watching it continue to happen. He didn’t look at you and instead just fiddled with his sweater, the one you had stolen from him so many times until he finally took it back to appreciate how it now smelled like you. 

“I’m not feeling too well today, you guys can just go.”

You pouted and fully turned to face your boyfriend. “You were fine just a second ago, do you want me to stay with you?”

He could tell you were about to walk back over and crawl into his lap, but he really needed to be alone. “I’m ok love, just not feeling it today. Bring me back something from Honeydukes though, will ya?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded, wondering if there was anything else you could do to help. 

“Don’t worry Y/N,” said George, “I can take care of you. We’ll have a blast!”

“I can take care of myself, Georgie,” you said. Fred winced at the nickname. “But I thank you kindly for the offer.” You bowed sarcastically and began to howl with laughter as George tickled your sides and threw you over his shoulder. “See you later Fred, don’t have too much fun without me!”

He looked up at the last second, only catching a glimpse of your face contorted with giggles as his twin carried you through the halls of the castle. 

Fred sighed and got up from the couch, sulking as he made his way to his now empty dorm room. He lied down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, imagination and worries running wild. What were you and George doing right now? Was he still holding onto you, laughing as he clutched your perfect body in his arms? Fred’s jaw clenched, thinking about his brother holding you, kissing you like he did. Because what was the difference between him and his brother? Why would you care if it was George that was touching you instead of Fred. They were the same. To everyone in the world, they were just the mirror images of each other. Just a stupid, unoriginal reflection. 

He felt a few hot tears well up, so he turned onto his side and curled up, letting sleep take over and wash his troubles away. 

------------------------------

“Alright George, put me down, you’ve had your fun.” The Weasley boy pretended to drop you, only making you clutch his shoulder harder. 

“Oh I see,” George said smirking, “now you don’t want me to put you down, huh?”

“Sod off, loser.” You wiggled out of his loosening grasp and elbowed his side. George had decided to carry you not only out of Hogwarts, but also almost the entire way to Hogsmeade itself. An act quite impressive, but the beater was known for his renowned upper body strength. 

Angelina came up and grabbed your arm, slowing you down so you would fall away from the rest of the group. “Not trying to steal my love, are you Y/N?” she asked, trying to glare at you but breaking quickly and smiling in the end. 

“I don’t know Angie,” you teased, “if you don’t make a move soon maybe I’ll have to take both twins. Paris does sound very nice this time of year.”

She rolled her eyes and gave you a soft shove. “The annoying part is that you could probably pull both of them too. I see the way George looks at you.”

Your best friend, usually so confident and collected, was now very shy and insecure about her love for the younger of the Weasley twins. You and George had no feelings for each other. Both of you knew that and she of course knew that. But sometimes dumb thoughts plagued people’s minds. 

“Angie, wanna know a secret?” you asked. 

She looked up and nodded slowly. 

“The reason George and I’ve been hanging out recently is because he keeps asking me about you. ‘What’s Angie’s favorite food?’ ‘What does she like to do when she’s not kicking ass on the Quidditch pitch?’ blah blah blah.” 

Angelina laughed at your horrible impersonation of George’s voice. “You know he’s like a brother to me. I mean, if things between me and Fred keep going how they are then maybe one day he’ll be my actual brother.”

She nodded gratefully and sighed a breath of relief. “I know, I know. It’s just a little weird for me that you two are so close. I feel like I’m third wheeling whenever you guys are there, and you aren’t even the ones dating!”

“That’s just how George is. He’s so sweet, so he’s always there to cheer me up. But you have to trust me, there is not and will not ever be something between me and him. No offence to George, but that’s gross.”

“You’re dating his twin brother! How is that gross?”

“You of all people know that they’re not the same. I prefer my men cocky, arrogant, and pretty,” you quipped, calling Fred out. 

“And I prefer mine sweet, compassionate, and handsome, but it looks like George has got a long way to go before he can earn that title.”

Angelina was referring to the scene in front of you, where the man in question was currently shoving Lee’s face into the snow-covered ground. 

“Maybe we both need better taste in men,” you said, running with Angelina to tackle George and save your dear friend. 

------------------------------

It was 2 weeks later, and Fred was once again missing out on a trip to Hogsmeade. Gryffindor had just played Slytherin in the game of the year, a close match that had the entire school screaming and on the edge of their seats. 

“And there Malfoy and Potter go, racing into the sky with their eyes on the snitch,” Lee Jordan shouted into the microphone. “The current score is Gryffindor with 130 points and Slytherin with 110. It all comes down to who can catch this flying bugger.”

A loud crack resounded across the pitch as George sent a bludger straight toward Malfoy, hitting his broom and almost knocking him off. 

“Amazing hit by Number 6, beater George Weasley. This could be the end of the game folks, this could be it. Oh! Malfoy’s back on his broom and racing to catch up to Potter. Weasley gave the young Gryffindor seeker a great head start, and it looks like he might have it!”

“Fred!” Angelina cried. Fred looked to where she was gesturing and saw the bludger coming straight toward him. This was his shot. He had a clear path to hit Malfoy, securing the win for Gryffindor. 

You were in the crowd, screaming at the top of your lungs. He didn’t want to disappoint you, or the team, or his house. He didn’t want to disappoint people anymore. 

“Number 5 Fred Weasley winds up to hit a bludger, he’s got a clean shot toward Malfoy! If he can get this hit it’s game over and victory for Gryffindor!”

With all of his strength he sent the bludger flying, but apparently his aim hadn’t improved with the extra practice he had been doing. 

Lee continued to comment on the disaster that was about to happen. “One strong hit to the bludger, but it looks like it’s going in the wrong direction. Oh no! Instead of hitting Malfoy the bludger just hit Potter, sending him and his broom spiraling out of control! Malfoy has taken this opportunity to catch up to the snitch and...and...he’s got it. Malfoy catches the snitch, making the final score 260 for Slytherin to 130 for Gryffindor. A well played match by everyone.”

Except it wasn’t a well played match for Fred. He had let everyone down, again. He was used to it from his parents and older siblings, even most of his teachers. But he had never let down his house before. He had never let down his team. 

Fred locked himself away in his room, refusing to talk to anyone. He pulled off his Quidditch robes and shirt and stared at his reflection in the wall length mirror hanging in his dorm room. 

He stared at his body, something many girls would comment on and swoon over. He was Fred Weasley, star Quidditch player and resident hottie at Hogwarts. Except he wasn’t anymore. 

The definition of his abs weren’t strong enough. He was gaining too much fat, eating too much food. He wasn’t working out enough, that was it. If he would've worked out more then he would’ve made the shot during the game. 

Fred wasn’t as ripped as George, he knew that for a fact. Living in the same room for their entire lives, Fred knew how strong his brother was, how defined his biceps were and how he could lift you with absolutely no problem. Fred knew that George was the better beater. It was just statistics. He made the most hits, had the best aim, and won the team the most points.  

The only thing Fred was better at was making jokes, but he knew no one liked them. His friends must’ve laughed out of pity. There was no way anyone could not find him annoying, especially with how cocky and overconfident he came across. They just tolerated him because of George. You just loved him because you saw him as another George. You should be with George. 

Fred stared into the reflection of himself in the mirror, the one that looked equal parts like him and his twin brother. He groaned as he bent down to the floor, quickly starting another repetition of countless pushups until he would pass out from exhaustion.

------------------------------

Fred had stuck to his cycle. Wake up, eat (but not much), go on a run across the castle grounds, go to class, work out for 2 hours, eat dinner (but once again, not much), work out again and then pass out from working so hard. Any time he had outside of class was spent on the Quidditch pitch or locked away in his dorm, overworking his body and secretly comparing it to his brother’s. No matter what he did, he never caught up. He was still the more annoying, weaker, less attractive reflection of his twin. 

“There’s something wrong with him,” George said to you, walking to the courtyard for one of your breaks. “He’s been so off lately and I can’t figure out why.”

“You’re telling me!” You had noticed Fred’s changes in behavior and tried to talk to him about it. He had become quieter and less outgoing, usually choosing to be alone and do God knows what while you went off with your friends. In fact, the two of you hadn’t had an evening to yourselves in over a month. Not ever seeing your boyfriend was beginning to take a toll on you too. 

“I’ve tried talking to him and asking if anything’s wrong, but he always blows me off,” you complained. “He just seems so sad and miserable, and the worst part is, I have no idea why!”

George just shook his head. “Me neither. He’s my bloody twin brother and we never even talk anymore. He’s always on his broom or locked himself in our room. Doesn’t ever let me in, so I don’t know what’s going on back there.”

Thoughts began to race through your head. “Do you,” you gulped. “Do you think he’s hiding something from us? Or...or someone?”

“Oh Godric no,” George said suddenly, wrapping you up in a hug. “Fred would never cheat on you darling, he loves you too much for that. He would go on and on about how bloody beautiful you are and how you’re the perfect person for him and it took everything I had not to strangle the git sometimes cuz he would never let me sleep.”

You squeezed him back tighter. “When...when did he say these things?”

George paused for a few seconds. “A little over a month ago. I...I haven’t really heard him talk much recently…”

You broke down sobbing in your friend’s arms, lowering yourself onto a bench and turning to cry into his chest. 

“Shh, shh darling, it’s not your fault. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. Freddie loves you so much, he would never hurt you, ever.” He grabbed your chin so you were looking up at him. “Do you understand me?”

You nodded, eyes red and puffy before going back to his chest to cry. You spoke to him through broken sobs. “I...I’m gonna talk to him tonight. I need to f-find out what’s...wrong.”

George stroked your hair soothingly and rubbed your back. “Sounds like a plan, love. You’ve got this.”

You thanked him and continued to cry until you felt all of your sadness release. George helped you up and walked you to the bathroom to get your face cleaned up for the next class. Little did you or George know that Fred, from afar, had just witnessed the entire scene. 

------------------------------

In his usual place as of late, Fred was curled up on his bed, unable to move from the intensity he had just put his body through. He tried to shift to get into a more comfortable position but it only made him groan and his stomach growl. 

His arms, which were supposed to be getting stronger, were weak from malnutrition. He wasn’t even strong enough to sit up and do his Potions homework, which only made him feel worse about himself. 

All his life it had been Fred and George. It didn’t matter that his name was first, because there was always George to follow. They were the same person, and yet he still felt inferior to his brother. No matter what he did, how hard he worked, George was always going to be better. He was the stronger twin, the kinder one, the more compassionate one who knows when a prank has gone too far. He was everything that you deserve, and everything Fred wished he could be. 

Fred was startled by a knock on the door. “Freddie,” your muffled voice called through. He stayed quiet, hoping you would leave and look for him somewhere else, or better yet give up on him altogether. He couldn’t stand to look at you at the moment. 

“Freddie I’m coming in.” Before he could do anything you had cast alohomora and were standing next to his bed. 

Fred turned his head away from you, trying not to let you see how red his face was from crying. He pulled the covers up over his face, blatantly ignoring you. 

“We need to talk.” You sat down next to him and ripped the blanket off, revealing a mostly naked Fred aside from his pair of boxers. You grabbed his shoulders to roll him over to face you, but you jumped back as he let out a pained groan. 

“Get out, Y/N. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You haven’t wanted to talk for the past month and I’m tired of it. I know there’s something wrong, and it’s killing me to see you like this. Please, Fred, you need to tell me what’s happening.”

The boy rolled his eyes and slowly moved to face you. “Why?” he asked. “So you can run off to George and have him comfort you? Why don’t you just save us both the trouble and go be with him.”

You were shocked by his words. Fred had never been the jealous type. Whenever you would talk casually with your exes or other boys would flirt with you, Fred was understanding and calm, always saying that you were his and he knew he didn’t have to worry about anything. But now for some reason he was seething with jealousy, and over his brother no less. It didn’t make any sense. 

“What in the world are you talking about?” you asked indignantly. “You know that George is just my friend, my best friend. He’s in love with Angelina and I’m in love with you.”

Fred scoffed. “Yeah, alright then. What did you and Angelina do, draw straws and decide who gets who? It’s not like it would matter, as long as you got one of the twins.”

You sat down on the bed, fuming with anger. “Where is this coming from? You know I love you. I don’t love George, at least not more than a friend or a brother. I don’t love anyone else and I don’t want to be with anyone else, just you.”

Your hand traveled to his shoulder but he jerked up so that he was inches away from you. “Don’t lie to me. You’re just like everyone else. You got one of the twins, and then you realized that you got the worse one, so off you are to go seduce George, because he’s just my reflection but better. I know exactly how you think you worthless bitch!”

Both of you went silent. Fred had never spoken those things to you before. Never once had he raised his voice in anger, and he had never even thought about calling you a bitch or anything of the sort. 

You brought your hand back to slap him, but you hesitated when he just gave up and sighed, awaiting the hit and not even trying to do anything about it. He was weak and exhausted and had completely given up on everything. 

Lowering your hand, you moved it to caress his cheek. He leaned into the touch, letting small tears fall from his eyes and drop onto your fingers. You pulled him into your shoulder slowly, where he sniffled and cuddled up next to you. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean that. You’re perfect.”

After a few seconds you finally spoke up. “I love you so much. You cheer me up when I’ve had a bad day with your jokes.” Fred hummed into your shoulder. “You’re always helping me relax when things get too stressful, and you take me on the best adventures I could ever imagine.” He turned his head to meet your eyes. “You and George, while you might look the same, are completely different. I could never love him the way I love you, because he’s not you. He’s sweet, compassionate Georgie, and you’re fierce, loyal, loving, optimistic, beautiful Freddie.”

Fred nuzzled into your shoulder and pulled you down so you were both laying down on his bed. He mumbled something that you couldn’t make out. 

“What was that love?”

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” He spoke so shyly, pieces of his insecurities finally becoming apparent. 

You held his face in your hands and stared into his mesmerizing brown eyes. “I think you’re beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, pretty, and absolutely perfect the way you are.” You ran your hands down his toned abs, starting to understand what he had been doing those many hours each day. “No matter how much muscle you have or how big or small you are, I’ll always love you. You look perfect to me.”

To show Fred exactly how you felt you kissed him all over his body, starting at his neck and moving to his chest all the way down to his thighs and calves. “Just because you’re a guy doesn’t mean you have to be super buff and toned. All bodies are beautiful, and that goes for men too. And you are the most beautiful of them all.”

Fred squeezed you tight, mentally hitting himself for not talking to you earlier. You loved him and he knew that. You didn’t love George and you didn’t love him because he was one of the Weasley twins. You loved him because he was simply Fred. Fred Weasley. 

You shifted out of his hold and started to leave the room. “Where are you going love, please stay,” he asked, giving you his biggest puppy dog eyes. 

“I’m gonna sneak into the kitchens and get you some food. You need to eat, Freddie. I’ve seen you skip meals and it’s not healthy.” He nodded reluctantly, still self conscious about the weight he thought he gained. 

“Speaking of not being healthy, I think you should slow down with the workouts. There’s nothing wrong with getting a better body, but you’re destroying yourself in the process. Can you take a break for a few days and rest up before reevaluating your workouts?”

It took Fred a second to think over. He still wanted a body like his brother’s, but you were right. He wouldn’t get it from not eating and constantly hurting himself. “Yeah, alright.”

“I think there’s leftover ham and potatoes from dinner, does that sound good?” Fred agreed, cozying himself back up under the covers. 

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get food and we can eat and catch up, and maybe read that book I was telling you about? You said you wanted to read it with me.”

“Sounds perfect, love. Thank you so much.”

You nodded and walked out the door, closing it softly. Fred looked around the room he had spent so much time in recently until his eyes landed on the mirror hanging on his wall. With what was left of his strength he got up and stood in front of it. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. He had so many deep seated insecurities that he would need to work out, and it would take time. But for the first time in a while, Fred could finally look at his reflection and smile. 

[bts-reveries]

mini me | finale

(images at the end~)

almost 2 months later~

Today was finally Taehyung’s exhibition. Well, the exhibition of self love done by multiple artists, but we’ll just be paying attention to Taehyung’s today. 

The whole group was ready, excited, and so so so so proud of Uncle Taetae! You, especially, couldn’t wait to see how Taehyung painted you. You never got to see the finished product, nor all the other paintings he had done. You were curious to see how they looked, you knew they were going to be great. 

“When can we go inside?” Soojin whined, the entire group was outside the building, the first ones in line actually, waiting to enter the exhibition that was opening in ten minutes. 

“You have to be patient,” Minseok tells his sister, he checks the small watch on his wrist. “We still have to wait a bit.” Soojin pouts, turning around and reaching up, wanting to be carried by her dad.

“Aigoo Soojin-ah,” Jin says, leaning down to pick up his daughter. “Are your legs hurting from standing so long?” Soojin nods, leaning her head onto Jin’s shoulder. He rested his head against hers. “Well we’ll be in soon, just hold on a bit longer.” He says, rubbing her back. 

“Didn’t he paint you too?” Namjoon asked you, he was holding Moonji the same way Seokjin was. You nod.

“Yeah and I didn’t get to see it. So he painted you? Did he show you the end results?” You ask him. Namjoon laughs, shaking his head no. 

“Didn’t show me anything. I know he painted Sarang too, and Yoongi hyung, and himself.” 

“Ah,” you say, “so the single parents.” 

“You have to love yourself first before you love anyone else,” Namjoon tells you. You’re sure he has that in one of the books he previously wrote. “Especially since we have our own kids to take care of and love, we have to make sure we have our own selves taken care of first. Taehyung thought it was perfect for the theme of self love.”

-

“Hey!” Taehyung yells, waving to all of you when you finally were able to go into the building. 

“Daddy!” Youngjae yells, running towards Taehyung. A huge smile spread across Taehyung’s face as he kneels down to catch Youngjae’s hug. 

“Hey buddy!” He says, hugging him tightly, and standing straight whilst carrying him up. 

“Where’s your paintings?” Youngjae asks him. Taehyung turns around and points.

“Down that hallway is my part of the exhibition,” he tells him.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jungkook says, walking past the two. 

“I can’t wait to see your paintings Uncle Tae!” Huimang says excitedly, pulling her mom’s hand towards the direction of where Taehyung pointed. Everyone seems to just walk past the two, either saying they’re proud of Taehyung, excited to see his work, or giving him pats on his back. 

“Hey,” you say, being the last one left. You put a hand on his arm, standing on your toes to give him a kiss. 

“I’m excited-- well, kinda scared to see your paintings actually,” you laugh. His eyes widened.

“What? Why?” You laugh at his reaction, shaking your head.

“I don’t know, what if you made me look nicer than I actually do,” you say with a small laugh. 

“Trust me babe, no one can capture your beauty on anything,” Taehyung tells you with a little wink. “Now let’s go catch up with everyone.”

-

With Youngjae on Taehyung’s hip, and his other hand holding yours, the three of you enter his part of the exhibition. 

Before your eyes could land on any art pieces hung onto the wall, your heart was melting at the sight of all your nieces and nephews looking at their favorite uncle’s hard work. They were all so smiley, and for little kids, they all looked so proud. Not only them, but their parents as well.

Jimin was carrying Mingyu, pointing to him and explaining the art on the wall. Namjoon was reading the descriptions of the paintings to Moonji. Minseok was holding his two siblings' hands, explaining to the both of them who each of the paintings were. Hana was taking a picture of her dad next to the portrait of him. You’ve seen Yoongi happy plenty of times, but this time, he was glowing a little different. 

“Mommy that’s you!” Huimang yells, running to the other side of the room. 

Jungkook on the other hand had his camera with him, and he captured every little moment that was going on. 

“Let me show you yours,” Taehyung tells you, pulling you to the back of the room. 

-

“Wow,” you say as you see his painting of you. You wondered if this is how everyone sees you, or just how you look in his eyes.

“Do you like it?” Taehyung asks you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it, your eyes landing on the small description on the bottom of the canvas.

[ Purple Love

I will trust and love you for a long time

Though life brings heartache and doubt, the power of love can overcome all of life’s hardships. 

Ln Yn. A young, single mother who learned to love herself first in order to give her whole heart to the sweetest boy in the world. Although she needed no one to raise her son with, as she was capable of anything she put her heart to, by loving herself, she was able to love others. Her son, her new friends who are now family, and, possibly, her son’s future father. ]

After you have finished reading the little description, you turn towards Taehyung with slightly shiny eyes. 

“It’s nothing big,” Taehyung says, you furrow your brows together. “But I got you this small ring, and I was hoping one day I can replace it with a better, prettier ring, an engagement ring, and then a wedding ring,” he says nervously, holding up a ring to you. It was a dainty ring with a small, diamond heart in the center. In your favorite color. Purple.

“I know,” he laughs, “it’s kind of fast, but it’s just a promise ring--”

“I love it,” you tell him, putting both of your hands to his. Youngjae was now standing in front of the painting, trying to read the words on the description, sounding it all out. He was in his own little world. 

Taehyung smiles, putting the ring on your finger, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss.

“I swear I’ll get you a better ring,” he laughs, you shake your head.

“I don’t care,” you tell him. “I’ll love it either way.”

-

It’s been an hour or so into the exhibition, everyone was going around and checking out the other works of the other artists. Youngjae was walking around the same area, not wanting to go off with everyone else. 

Your head whips towards him as he lets out a small gasp. 

“Daddy!” He yells, Taehyung turns around as he heard Youngjae calling him, but to both of you’s surprise, it was his other dad. Youngdo. 

“Hey son,” he says, kneeling down and hugging Youngjae. 

“You made it!” Youngjae says happily. 

“Oh-- Youngdo,” you say, walking up to him. Taehyung hesitates whether or not he should come along with you. 

“Hey, how are you?” Youngdo asks, as he stands upright. The two of you have seen each other a few times since your closure, but it was all brief moments like picking up Youngjae or dropping him off at each other’s house. 

“Doing well, how about you? What have you been up to?” You ask politely, at this time you felt Taehyung’s presence next to you. 

“I’m actually seeing someone now,” Youngdo says. “Nothing too serious yet, just on our third date.” He then turns to Taehyung, smiling at him. “Youngjae has been telling me about your exhibition and not to miss it,” he says, extending his hand out to Taehyung. “It looks great.” Taehyung smirks a little, taking his hand and shaking it.

“Thank you.”

-

While Youngjae went around the exhibition with his dad, you and Taehyung stayed at his section. 

“So have you gotten any offers yet?” You asked him as you both stood near the entrance of his exhibition, looking over the people who were looking at Taehyung’s artwork. He looks down at you and nods.

“I got a few numbers, some projects they want me to work on,” he smiles. “I’m excited. This is probably the peak of my career.” 

“Yay! We should celebrate later~” You exclaim, tugging on his arm. He laughs at your cute reaction.

“Okay okay okay,” he laughs, “we will. There’s actually an after party for all the artists and their family and friends. We can do that if you want to?”

“Oh yeah! That’d be fun~ Do we need any babysitters?”

“Actually, I think we should be good. It’s family friendly,” he tells you, looking over at Youngjae who was taking a selfie with his dad by one of the paintings.

“We should invite Youngdo to stay for it too,” he tells you, you looked at him confused, “Youngjae would want both his dads to be with him, don’t you think?”

mini me

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ finale ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

pairings: artist!taehyung x singlemom!reader

a/n: officially the end! i hope you all liked this series, can’t believe we’re already moving on to the last two of the series!!🥺🥺🥺🥺

i know we wanted to also have a part where it’s youngdo and youngjae but i will do that for a drabble (you’ll be able to see that on the drabbles part of the tmbmil masterlist, which is the very bottom)

taglist: @heartfeltscribblings @taexmichi @prdshobi @smarshere @i-swear-im-a-soft-stan @igotarmyofarohas @butterflylion @miagracegrande @casspirit0705 @ephyra1230 @cosmicdaylight @bbyjoonies @betysotelo18 @strwberry-jam @rjsmochii @chocobetterknot @notmontae97 @alpaca1612 @yoongistruth @dragonqueen01 @silentlyimpractical @hecticwonderer @joanc24 @angjeon @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @sweetmoonlight9  @samros95 @dreamcatcherjiah @sonderkook @taekookcaneatme @listless-losers @kookietsukkie @goldenchemistry @salty-for-suga @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness @softboyfriendtae @raplineh0e @ess-place @callmepaopao @ggukvii @ramyagovindraj @yoongiverse @mipetronella @cloudy-skys @jikachoo @nxtrogers @kookoo-kachoo @taestannie @hispoutylips @hallofbtsmasterlist

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

[mjsakurea]

love them all for me - a fic and character study

He is barely a teenager when he is brought to Koi Tower where he meets a gentle young woman mourning the deaths of her husband and adoptive brother. She shares soup and stories of love and loss.

Or

Jiang Yanli sees a struggling young Mo Xuanyu and asks “is no one else going to adopt him?” and does not wait for an answer.

Continue reading below or read on AO3

He is brought to Koi Tower when he is barely a teenager. He had never left the village he grew up in before. His mother had told him stories of the luxuries of Koi Tower—she had always hoped he would get to live here someday. It is her aspirations for him that leads him to agree to the sect leader’s offer to be educated here. She is beaming when he glances back at her before answering.

“I am so proud of you. You are going to do great things, I just know it,” she says later that evening during dinner, the last evening he will spend with her.

The next morning, he is escorted by men in shining golden robes to a horse-drawn wagon. He looks back at his mother as she waves him goodbye with a smiling mouth and teary eyes. She is the only one from his village who came to wish him off. He steps into the wagon. Before long, the driver urges the horse to move and then he is off to his new life.

He arrives at Koi Tower early the next day. Having slept through most of the ride, he is only awoken by the wagon pulling to a stop. The men in gold fling open the curtain of the wagon and usher him out. In quick succession, he is shown to his new room, thrown in a bath, and has new robes flung at him before he is left alone.

He is told he will be awoken and escorted to classes tomorrow—cultivation classes no less. The day passes slowly. He explores his room and all the amenities it provides. He is brought lunch and dinner, more delicious than anything he had tasted before. When it is time for bed, he cannot sleep. His heart races anticipating the excitement of the next day. Instead, he sits at a low table and writes a letter to his mother. He will add to it tomorrow after classes to tell her how they were. After he recounts the events of the day, he settles down in bed, more relaxed after writing the letter.

It is too early—in his opinion—when the knock comes on his door. He dresses quickly in the golden robes he was given. They fit perfectly like they were tailored to him personally. He joins his classmates for breakfast before lessons start for the day. They chatter with each other amicably around the table, occasionally glancing out of the corner of their eyes at the newcomer, some hide a laugh behind their sleeves, some don’t bother to hide it. He is made aware of his status here: an outsider. He focuses on the delicious meal and blocks them out.

Laughter and whispers echo in the lessons just as at breakfast. He tries to tune them out once again. He struggles through the lessons, hastily taking notes he does not understand. His peers have been in the same classes long before he arrived and already know all the foundations. No one offers to help him get caught up.

When he returns to his room for the evening, he is exhausted, more emotionally than physically. He was supposed to join sword training after dinner but, unlike all the other teenagers, he does not have his own sword. The teacher had told him to sit out and watch today, and he would look for a spare one for him tomorrow. He thinks of continuing his letter but decides against it; he does not have any good stories to add from today. He sniffles as he curls up in bed and falls asleep.

A week passes much the same as the first day had. A letter from his mother being the only redeeming event. She writes that she hopes he is making friends. He wishes he could say he had been, but that is far from the truth. He does not reply to her. He does not send the other letter he has been working on either.

On a rare day off, he takes a stroll in the Jin sect gardens. It is tranquil and calming. The gardens are one of his favorite places he has discovered here so far. The quiet is suddenly broken by the sound of snickering. He whirls around. A few of his classmates are standing down the path behind him.

“What are you doing here? You don’t belong here,” one of them says.

“No sword, not even a golden core, you’re such a loser,” another taunts.

“Leave me alone,” he attempts softly. They laugh and walk closer. Two of them flank his left and right. He glances between the three frantically.

“Descended from a servant, you’ll never amount to anything,” the boy in front of him snarls before shoving him roughly.

“You’re a disgrace to your family, better fit to be a servant like your ancestors.”

The boy on his right shoves him, then the boy on his left. Their laughter surrounds him. Tears prickle at his eyes. He wants to scream.

“Enough!” a light yet commanding voice calls. He is given one final shove which sends him to the ground before the trio back away from him. He looks up to see a young woman in white robes approach.

“Madam Jiang,” all three of them utter before bending in a hasty bow. She strides over and helps pull him to his feet with a kind smile. Then, she turns to the three bullies with ice in her eyes.

“Apologize to him,” she demands.

“But—”

“Apologize. You three have been disrespectful and that is unacceptable. He is your classmate, and he earned his place here just as much as you did, evidently more so if this is how you behave. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Now apologize and go home and think about your words here.”

“We’re sorry!” the three say simultaneously. They turn and run off. She turns back to him, and he holds his breath before her icy glare melts into a soft smile once again. She bends down to his level.

“Are you okay?” she asks. He quickly wipes his eyes and nods. “I’m sorry they were mean to you, please tell me if they bother you again, okay? Are you hungry? I just made some soup, join me for lunch?” he nods again.

She takes his hand and leads him to a small, enclosed courtyard within the main palace. There is a small bridge over a lotus pond with lotus blossoms in full bloom. Next to the pond is a covered gazebo with a stone table in the center surrounded by stone chairs. She tells him to sit down and wait while she fetches the soup. She returns with a tray carrying a large, covered bowl and two smaller bowls with spoons. She sets the tray on the table and sits down. As soon as she lifts the lid of the larger bowl, the amazing smell makes his mouth water. She serves up two bowls of the soup and hands one to him. He digs in impatiently.

“Do you like it?” she asks. His mouth is too full to answer so he nods. She smiles. “I’m glad. It’s lotus root and pork rib soup. It is—was A-Xia—my brother’s favorite.” her smile remains, but her eyes are cloudy and downcast. She sits in silence for a long moment before speaking again, “my brother was teased for being the son of a servant when he was your age, but he went on to do great things. So, don’t let anyone make fun of you for your heritage, okay? You remind me of him, so I’m sure you’ll go on to do great things, as well.”

“Your brother, um will you—” he begins, “will you tell me about him?”

Her smile grows as she brings her eyes up to meet his. “I would love nothing more.”

And so, she tells him about her brother. She starts at the very beginning when he was adopted into her family after living on the streets. She talks of fights with her other brother and hiding up in trees so the dogs would not get him. She speaks of the first time she made him his favorite soup. She tells him about his natural-born talent for cultivation and his fast promotion to first disciple. She describes her brother’s early life story, and he listens, enraptured, soup long since finished.

She is in the middle of another story when a handmaiden comes out to the courtyard.

“Madam Jiang, A-Ling has woken up from his nap and seems hungry,” she informs.

“Ah has it already been that long? I am sorry my young friend, but I must be getting back. Would you like me to finish the story tomorrow?”

He nods enthusiastically.

“Alright, how about you meet me out here when you are done with your classes?”

Nodding once again, he smiles. Finally, something to look forward to. She returns his smile and pats his head. Then, she turns and follows the handmaiden into the palace.

After she leaves, he returns to his room. He pulls out his unfinished letter to his mother and begins to add to it. He writes about his classes but leaves out the unpleasant parts. Mostly, he talks about his encounter today with the nice Madam Jiang and his plans to meet her again. When he finishes the letter, he leaves his room and takes it to the mail carrier to be delivered in the coming days. He returns to his room with a smile on his face. Once he returns, he readies for bed and falls into the best sleep he has had since he arrived in Koi Tower.

True to his word, he goes to the courtyard after lessons are over the next day. She is already waiting for him with a baby cradled in her arms. There is a plate of dumplings on the stone table. He sits down excitedly. She tells him to help himself to some dumplings.

“Now where was I? Oh yes—” she continues her story where she left off the day before. He listens with unwavering attention while snacking on a dumpling.

After she finishes her story, she asks him how his classes were today. He tells her the truth: they were confusing, and he still does not have a grasp on the material as everyone else does.

“Hmm, do you have any homework today?”

He nods.

“Why don’t you take it out and I’ll see if I can help you with it,” she says. So, he pulls out his notes and homework from the day. She takes each of the papers with one hand and examines them before setting them back down on the table.

“So, what is it you are confused about most?” she asks. He tries to explain what it is that he does not understand. She listens patiently and nods at the right moments. She does not speak until he is done talking, never interrupting. When he does finish, she thinks for a moment. Then, she starts giving a more simplified explanation of the difficult concepts he had tried to explain. With her explanations, the pieces finally begin to click into place. Things start to make sense that never had before. As she ends her explanation, he pulls out a brush and ink and grabs his homework. He completes it in record time. She sits patiently smiling at him while she rocks the sleeping infant in her arms. When he finishes it, she takes it from him to look it over. He waits with bated breath.

“It looks good,” she says with a smile, handing the papers back to him. He beams at the praise. He puts away the papers, ink, and brushes. He grabs another dumpling and stuffs it into his mouth.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you—”

“No, one more story!” he interrupts, “if that’s okay,” he tacks on more quietly at the end.

“Okay, one more and then you should head home before it gets too late,” she says. He agrees, and she begins to tell another tale of her and her brother’s childhood, this one about summer days spent out on the lake picking lotus seed pods and getting into splash fights until someone inevitably fell into the lake.

She finishes her story and glances out at the small lotus pond next to the gazebo. “These pods should be ripe soon; I can show you how to pick some then maybe. Anyway, you should be heading back now,” she says.

He nods but hesitates to leave.

“Would you like to come back tomorrow?” she sees right through his silently pleading eyes.

“Yes, please,” he says.

“Alright, I’ll see you then,” she says and waves as he runs off.

He comes back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. She is there waiting for him every day, sometimes with her son, sometimes alone. Every day there is a different snack waiting for him at the stone table, as well. They continue the same routine: she asks him about his classes and helps him with homework or studying and then tells him a story before he heads home for the day. He improves greatly in class, finally catching up with his peers. His classmates slowly start to treat him as an equal. He is no longer the last one picked in group projects. Casual conversations begin to include him. His days become enjoyable—the time spent with Madam Jiang being his favorite part of each day.

As time progresses, there are days he does not get to visit her. She takes regular trips to Lotus Pier. He misses her during those trips, but she always brings him back a souvenir to lift his spirits. She also always returns with more stories—the time spent back home never failing to refresh old memories.

Months pass in a flash. He notices subtle changes in Madam Jiang. Her wardrobe—before entirely consisting of white robes—begins to feature light pastels, as well. He thinks she looks stunning in the soft pinks, blues, purples, and greens like she was born to wear those colors. White does not suit her as much. The days she wears white robes are always the days she seems the most melancholy. There are four days a year where the white robes are ever-present, and the sadness is evident: her husband’s birthday and the anniversary of death and her brother’s birthday and the anniversary of death. Those days, he mostly sits with her in silence. She attempts to share snippets of a story but cuts herself off with a sob.

“Grief never really goes away, you just get better at dealing with it,” she says on one such day, “It is a blessing and a curse. While painful, grief makes the memories more precious. Without those memories, there would be no grief, but I wouldn’t trade those memories for the world. Thank you for allowing me to share them with you.”

He thinks he should be the one thanking her. She has given him his own memories that he will treasure forever. He does not know yet how to express his gratitude, so he keeps her company in silence.

After roughly three years after he came to Koi Tower and met Madam Jiang, he meets someone new. A man is sitting under the gazebo with her as he walks into the courtyard. The man wears entirely white robes and has a ribbon around his forehead. He approaches the gazebo slowly.

“I’d like to introduce you to Hanguang-Jun,” she says. His eyes go wide. He has heard that name, he is one of the most famous cultivators in the world. He quickly stoops low in a bow.

“He was a dear friend of my brother’s,” she adds. The man looks down when she does.

“I have been telling him stories about A-Xian but I’m afraid I have about run out of stories to tell. I’m sure you’ve got many from your adventures together. We’d love to hear them,” she says. Hanguang-Jun looks up at her and then at him. He nods vigorously. Hanguang-Jun’s mouth turns up in a barely perceptible smile.

“Very well,” he says. The man is nowhere near the storyteller Madam Jiang is—never embellishing and always using the least number of words possible—but his stories are captivating, nonetheless. He speaks of broken rules, bravery, and boldness. He recounts battles with moving stone statues and ancient monsters. Madam Jiang listens just as intently as he is, evidently some of his stories are new to her, as well. When Hanguang-Jun is done, there are tears in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says.

“No need.”

“It makes me very happy to know my A-Xian had such a good friend til the end.” Hanguang-Jun looks down as she finishes her sentence and does not reply for a while.

“I should depart,” he says and rises from the chair.

“Okay, do let me know if you find anything,” she says quietly, “and please do visit again, it was good to see you,” she finishes.

“Mn,” is his only reply.

After his back disappears from the courtyard, Madam Jiang sighs. “My brother loved him very much, and I think he loved him back. They just didn’t have enough time to realize it,” she says and wipes a tear from her face.

Hanguang-Jun does visit again. The next few times, he brings with him a young boy—only a few years older than Jin Ling—also dressed in white with a forehead ribbon. He plays in the courtyard with Jin Ling as Madam Jiang and Hanguang-Jun sit in the gazebo. Hanguang-Jun shares new stories about her brother each time. He treasures them away in his mind with all the stories he has compiled from Madam Jiang over the years. A mosaic of stories takes shape, molding into the form of this person he has never met. The painting feels almost complete, despite them leaving out the darker shades. His picture is still tinted golden.

Hanguang-Jun and the young boy are her most frequent visitors. However, more unfamiliar faces make their appearance once in a while. On one such occasion, a sect leader visits. He is dressed in deep green and gray robes and obscures his face behind a fan. He approaches them at the gazebo during one of their regular visits. In his hand is clasped a large book bound in red leather.  

She stands up and bows when the man reaches them. He gets up to follow suit.

“Sect Leader Nie, I am deeply sorry for your loss,” she says.

“Thank you,” he replies. He hands her the red book.

“What’s this?” she asks.

“A long overdue gift, I’m afraid,” he begins, “a compilation of your brother’s writings, recovered from the Burial Mounds. I thought it might bring you comfort.”

Her hands pause as she goes to reach for the book. She takes it gingerly, holding it as if it might break. She turns it over in her hands and smiles sadly.

“Thank you for this. I will treasure it greatly.”

“It is my pleasure,” he says, waving the fan in front of his face. He does not stay to share a story.

She stares at the book in her hands long after he leaves. Eventually, she looks up from the book.

“Would you like to look through this with me?” she offers. He cannot refuse. He nods. She opens it and begins to flip through it. He moves his chair closer. Most of it is unintelligible: half-written talismans and smudged characters. Some of it is legible but indecipherable for a different reason: cultivation theories so obscure and advanced that none but the most knowledgeable scholars could understand. He catches the names of some interesting arrays and spells, but she is leafing through too fast for him to study them. After skimming through it for a while, they reach the end of the book.

When she gently closes the book, she says, “I think we should call it a day.”

He nods slightly. It has not been long since they started today’s visit—barely over an hour he thinks—but her eyes already look tired. He stands and wishes her goodnight. He walks towards the outside of the courtyard, passing through an arched gateway when he hears a soft sob. He peaks around the wall. He sees her hunched over clutching the book to her chest, shaking with sobs. He feels tears prickling in his own eyes at the sight. He does not stay long before jogging off down the path. Her sorrow feels private like he intrudes on her just by witnessing it.

He returns to his room and lays down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling. It is too early to sleep, but he does not intend to sleep anyway. His mind is too busy and his chest aches. He can feel Madam Jiang’s heartache. He has never met her brother but, after all these years, he feels as if he were a close friend. Over the years he has seen pieces of him in everyone he has met, pieces that reside in the hearts of those that had the luxury of knowing him. He treasures his friendship with Madam Jiang, but he knows he cannot replace all who she has lost. Even after all these years she still suffers. Hanguang-Jun suffers. He remembers the name of a particular array in the red-bound book. He can ease their suffering; he just needs more time to study his notes.

He does not wake the next morning because he never slept the night before. He stares off into the wall during lessons. His classmates' and teacher’s voices blend together. He taps his foot impatiently against the floor, counting the seconds until classes end. After a lifetime’s worth of waiting, the teacher dismisses them. He barely notices, only realizing after seeing his classmates all getting up to leave. He scampers out of the classroom quickly after them.

He turns down the path towards the courtyard and walks at a pace just shy of running. As usual, she is waiting for him at the gazebo. There are two small bowls and one larger bowl—telltale signs of soup. He approaches the table but does not sit down.

“Madam Jiang, may I borrow the book?” he asks.

“Oh, alright, I suppose,” she replies. She hands him the leather-bound book. He takes it from her before turning around and walking away from the gazebo. “You’re not staying today?” she asks from behind him.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry,” he calls out as he walks away. He cannot put this off, as much as it pains him. These years have all led up to this. If this works, it will be his greatest achievement. He has work to do.

~~~

Wei Wuxian is tired. He does not want to open his eyes. He squeezes them shut. Distantly, a voice calls his name. It sounds fuzzy in his ears. Papers flutter and a bell rings. Are the noises real or just in his head, he cannot tell. The voice calls his name again and it sounds clearer. Who is there, he wonders. His eyes feel heavy, but he begins to force them open. He sees a circle of red lines surrounding him where he sits on the floor. A man in pale golden robes kneels just outside of the array.

“I saved you, I did it with all my heart.” Memories flash in Wei Wuxian’s mind. He died. He was dead, and now he is alive again. How, and more importantly, why?

“I had no choice; I couldn’t bear to see them like that anymore,” the voice continues. Wei Wuxian looks up at the man’s face. He is smiling.

“Love them all for me. Please, Wei Wuxian, love them all for me,” he says. Then, he disappears as if he were never there to begin with.

[ascottywrites]

AO3 History

That list that I, for some reason, think is valid enough to share. My personal Ao3 History. 

Saddle up. The inner interests of my brain are kind of all over the place. 

The Basement by My_Write_Life (Wip: 25/? | 40,696) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Stiles doubles back to the Argent’s house to free Erica and Boyd before making it back home. In which Stiles, not forgetting all about Erica and Boyd very much remaining in the basement saves them, Derek and Peter killing Jackson does make him go through the process of rebirth but he is brought back human and not a werewolf. Allison and her family go through the very legal repercussions of abducting three teenagers and Scott and Stiles friendship is put on hold because of that. Derek’s still the alpha.

Strip by Fessst (Wip: 12/? | 54,439) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

"Singletail whip. Your favorite, isn't it?" Red. Stiles felt nauseated as he bent over the bench. Red. The tremble only increased when his wrists and ankles were secured with leather straps. Red. He heard the Dom behind him give a sample crack of the whip in the air. Red. This would likely pierce his skin. So fucking Red. "What's your safeword?" Red. "Stiles?" "The... the stoplights, Sir."

When Your Back’s Against the Wall by A_Diamond, Michicant123 (Complete: one-shot | 11,976) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Fifteen years ago, the country of Beacon was shaken to its core when three slaves murdered most of the royal Hale family and one of the politically powerful Argents in the course of a single night.

Six years ago, Stiles Stilinski was forced to grow up fast and hard when his dying mother, herself a freed slave, left him at the head of an abolitionist revolution.

Two months ago, beloved princess-to-be Allison Argent was assassinated; three weeks ago, Stiles was caught and charged with her death.

Five hours ago, he was sentenced to serve the remaining Hales—tyrannical King Peter and reclusive Prince Derek—as a slave for the rest of his life. In a palace where the only people who may hate him more than the king are the ever-present family of the woman he’s convicted of murdering, the best he can hope for is that death will only be a few torturous years away.

Caution: swallowing dick may lead to injury - memoirs of a size queen

by

raeupchen (Complete: one-shot | 7,115) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

“Derek, can you give me my phone? I want to document this memorable moment,” Stiles said, before making grabby motions in the direction of his phone. Derek – unable to deny the other man anything – gave him the device before sitting back in his chair. He only raised one eyebrow when he saw what Stiles was up to. Apparently ‘documenting this memorable moment’ meant for Stiles to take a selfie and post it online. He showed Derek the picture with the caption ‘Dick sent me to the ER’.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep (Complete: one-shot | 1,423) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated Teen and Up] 

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Cornerstone by Vendelin for foreverblue_navy (Complete: 6/6 | 83,738) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

The Triskelion Mafia - Volume I by JamesAlexander (Complete: 10/10 | 20,834) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Derek Aletto saw his family being killed in front of him. Years of ruling the underworld of the organized crime were flushed down with the flames and the shot of a gun. Sixteen years later, under the name of the Triskelion Mafia, the family is back, leaded by Derek. He keeps his most trusted people close, for the Argento family is forever watching, trying to usurp Derek's prestige among the hidden world of New York. And everything seems to go according to plan, until the Argentos set an ambush for Derek's consigliere, Lydia Martini, and in the middle of the rush for survival, she ends up bringing Stiles along with her to the family's hideout.

tipping scales by jdphoenix (Complete: 2/2 | 3,810) Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.: BioSpecialist [Rated Teen and Up] 

An early morning emergency wakes Jemma and Grant.

Slick As A Baby Seal by Faradaze (Wip: 52/? | 131,098) Game Of Thrones: Brimund TarthBane [Rated E]

Tormund is in love/lust. Brienne is repulsed, then intrigued. The story begins shortly after Brienne arrives at Castle Black. This is my interpretation and expansion of the greatest ship that never was. Spoilers for GoT season 6, canon divergent as of season 7.

Rich Man, Poor Man by TyReed (Complete: 10/10 | 58,055) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated M]

During a first date gone horribly wrong, Stiles Stilinksi realizes that the snarky guy he's been asked out by is actually Derek Hale, an heir to Hale Industries, one of the most profitable companies in the entire world. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in the son of a teacher and a cop, a loser who spends all weekend watching movies in his pajamas, and who is also possibly one of the biggest dorks on the Internet.

At the same time, after screwing up their first date horribly, Derek Hale realizes that the funny guy he's asked out is Stiles Stilinksi, the warmest and kindest individual he's ever met in his life, with a family just a loving and caring. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in a guy who screws up everything he does, lacks any semblance of a backbone, and who is possibly one of the biggest history dorks in all of the United States.

These rich and poor men will come to experience a taste of each other's lives, and learn where the real blessings in the world can be found.

Bonds of Blood, Bonds of Family, Bonds of Love by TyReed (Complete: 10/10 | 44,003) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated M]

After being beaten up by a door, werewolf Stiles Stilinksi finds himself bonded to Derek Hale, of the Hale Noble Bloodline. For a scrawny, wimpy, Tainted Bloodline werewolf, Stiles runs away, embarrassed and humiliated as he worries about bringing shame to the Hale Family, and even more shame to himself. Because the Nobles and Tainted just don't mix, never have, never will.

Except, things aren't exactly what they seem.

With the help of the (meddling) Hale family, his adoptive (meddling) human parents John and Claudia Stilinksi, and one very persistent Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles might come to see himself as more than just the blood that runs through his veins, and open his heart to find the happiness, friends, pack, and the family that he'd always wanted.

Matenapped by xcaellachx (Complete: 12/12 | 36,671) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Alpha Derek Hale has known Spark Stiles Stilinski was his mate for over six years. The traumatized Spark had killed the rogue alpha who tried to kill his friend so many years ago and was still scarred by the experience. Now, Stiles was settled in as a magic shop owner and Derek was ready to claim him for his own. The ritual of matenapping was an old but accepted tradition and Derek had his den ready to receive his mate. It was time.

Stiles Stilinski thought Lydia was insane for thinking the sexy alpha wanted to matenap him. He was damaged by his past and determined to stay single so he didn't harm anyone. He kept his magic tightly leashed and couldn't believe that anyone could want him. Not a murderer. Even when the wolf came to see him and touched him gently, winking at him and looking at him longingly, he just couldn't accept it.

Very soon, Stiles wouldn't have a choice but to believe it. Derek was taking his mate and bringing him to his mating den where he would court and woo him until he couldn't help but fall in love with him.

(A/N: This is a lighthearted fic for the most part. This isn't an evil kidnapping/fall in love with your captor type. Not very serious at all, to be honest. Enjoy!)

**I could have sworn I had more eclectic tastes but I guess in 2018 I was firmly about the Sterek. 

[firstofficerwiggles]

Sending a Message

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: T, there are sexy situations, i.e. touching, but no actual sex, one use of the f-word, but mostly fluff and some longing

Summary: Basically, you and Din are in a cantina and you need his help to get men to stop hitting on you. You have an established friendship with him but neither of you have expressed your true *romantic* feelings. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2900ish

Author’s note: I love fanfiction and have been reading it for a looong time now, but I finally decided to take the plunge and write one myself. What can I say? Din is very inspiring. It’s very self-indugent and I hope you like it. 

I wrote a Part 2 to this story (18+ version) (T version)

 --------------------------------------------------------------

The child is a sticky mess having eaten his way through a bag of ripe berries as you were trying to keep him occupied so the Mandalorian could suss out information for others of his kind who might know where to find the Jedi.

It’s been roughly three months since you joined the Mandalorian’s crew to help out with the child. You were enamored with the sweet little green baby the moment you saw him with Din in that marketplace back on Tatooine. Stressed and exhausted, Din let you pick up the child and entertain him while he loaded supplies on to a cart. You accompanied the two of them around on the rest of their errands that day, offering helpful advice and somehow gaining the Mandalorian’s trust fast enough to have him offer you a job as the child’s caretaker by the end of the day. You surprised yourself with how quickly you agreed to the arrangement, but in the end, you knew there was nothing left for you on Tatooine but memories and an empty house.

So now here you were, fairly content with your role as nanny to the child, although not quite prepared for how risky travelling with the Mandalorian could be. There were days when you could not believe the situations you found yourself in, yet through it all, you knew you had made the right decision. This was largely in part to the Mandalorian himself. There was just something so undeniably compelling about him. He was an execptional hunter and frankly, a deadly assassin, but he always seemed willing to put his violent skills towards a good cause, no matter how hopeless it may have seemed. But yet, no matter how lethal he could be, he was also so heartbreakingly soft and gentle with his small son, demonstrating a fierce protectiveness that had spread to you too. At first, the Mandalorian wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but little by little, you had begun to get to know him and had fallen into an easy friendship of sorts with him. All well and good, but, the more you knew about him, the more you started to feel an attraction to him. It started slow, and you played it off as just a weakness for his handsome armor and, let’s be honest, his strong, fit physique underneath all that beskar. But then, he started to share small jokes with you, ask you more about yourself, and reveal details about his own life, including his name, Din Djarin. After that, you really couldn’t deny your feelings, but you kept them to yourself not wanting to upset the contented balance you had achieved nor wanting to put him in the uncomfortable position of having to turn you down. Still though, the longing was there, even when you tried to distract yourself.

“Wow, look at you! I think we have a new record, kiddo.” Din has made his way back to you and is gently teasing his son. He scoops him up into his arms and the child coos with glee but also puts his berry-smeared hands all over his father’s shiny armor.

“Oh no! I thought I’d have a chance to clean him up before you returned.” You apologize a little embarassed.

“It’s not a big deal; we’ll take care of it.” Din has accepted the messiness of fatherhood in stride, “Let’s head over to that cantina. We’ll get cleaned up and you two can get some food while we’re there.”

As Din heads to the back of the cantina in search of a fresher to deal with the berry mess, you spy two seats at the bar and carefully make your way through the crowd. Several people, mostly men it seems, smile widely at you as you pass. It’s packed in here, but the warmth of so many bodies together is welcome after the blustery wind that had picked up outside. You shed your heavy cloak and drape it over the back of one of the barstools both so you can save the seat for Din and, you think eagerly, give him the chance to see the pretty dress you decided to wear today. It’s one of your favorites but he hasn’t seen it yet, however, with the cooler weather on this planet you were beginning to think you wouldn’t get a chance to show it off. Not that you should be thinking like that, you roll your eyes at yourself and your silly crush on the stoic Mandalorian. You’re just getting yourself settled at the bar when the bartender places a brightly colored drink in front of you. Confused you say, “I haven’t ordered yet.” as he just points behind you to a burly looking man with a scruffy beard. The man is grinning confidently at you,

“My treat, pretty lady! We rarely get strangers like you in here!”

“Thank you,” you demure, “but I really can’t accept.”

“Nonsense! You go ahead and enjoy and then we can get to know each other.” He winks at you.

“Maybe she’d prefer one of these,” another man has sauntered over, this one a lanky man with a bottle of something in his hand, “I think she might prefer something with more of a bite to it.” His entendre not lost on you, you hold up your hand and shake your head to fend him off when yet a third man tries to get your attention,

“Don’t let these bozos tell you what you want; I’ll get you whatever your heart desires!”

“I can buy my own drink, thanks,” you cut him off, turn back to the bartender, and manage to order your own drink and some food for you and the child, but this last guy is persistent and sleezy, coming over and perching himself on the barstool you were saving for Din. “Hey, I’m saving that for my…” what should you call him? “friend,” you finish lamely.

“Well, no problem, I’m looking forward to meeting her too.” he waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. Giving him a sarcastic glare, you retort, “I don’t think he’d be interested.”

Things are starting to get out of hand, but thankfully, Din has spotted you amongst your crowd of admirers and with a small, rather amused tilt of his helmet and a bit of a shove, he’s now by your side with the child cooing happily from his satchel. “How about a booth?” he suggests, and you swear you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Great idea” you reply, hopping down from your stool and snatching your cloak back from the other one.

“Oh c’mon baby, that tin can can’t make you happy like I can” the guy who rudely stole Din’s seat calls after you. Your face erupts in a blush and you hope to hell that Din didn’t hear him amidst the noise of the cantina. The other men voice their frustrations too at your departure. You put your hand on Din’s bicep steering him away from these guys just in case. You don’t need Din starting a bar fight over you. You’re still holding his arm and following Din closely when yet another man comes up to you,

“This Mandalorian isn’t bothering you, baby, is he?” this idiot dares to ask.

“No. He is not.” you grit out as Din says, “She’s fine.” in his best don’t-fuck-with-me voice. It’s lost on this drunk fool though as he just lets out “Woo hoo! She sure is!” and tries to slap your ass, but thankfully you dodge him just in time.

You’re starting to doubt the wisdom in coming into this cantina but now that you’re making it to a booth with Din, you figure you should be all right. The booth has a curved seat following the shape of its round table and as Din places the child in the middle of the seat, he sits down to his right. You slide into your side of the booth opposite Din but before you can get fully seated, a man from the booth right behind you leans over, grabs your wrist and leeringly says, “I got a much better seat for you, mama.” and gestures to his crotch. Repulsed, you slap his hand away and head over to Din’s side of the table. That creep was disgusting but he did give you an idea.

“Will you do me a huge favor?” you ask Din, “Always” he replies instantly. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you climb into his lap while sliding one arm around his neck and then bringing your other hand to rest on his cuirass. You can sense his surprise, yet his arm wraps around your waist instinctively.

“Play along, please?” you whisper to him.

“What are you doing, exactly?” he wants to know.

“Sending a message.” You tuck your head in closer to his in a clearly affectionate way and place a kiss on his helmet where his cheek would be.

“What message would that be?” Din asks still a bit stunned by your actions.

“That I’m yours.” You pause as he absorbs this and then you tell him quietly, “I need you to be a little handsy.”

“Handsy?” he tilts his helmet at you “This feels like a trap.”

“No, I want you to. Be handsy.” You tell him again.

“Ok” he drawls out, “but don’t punch me.”

“I won’t.” You flutter your lashes at him to give the impression to this room of horny strangers that you’re flirting with Din.

Din gives a tiny shrug that you can feel more than see but then brings his free hand up to your face. His gloved hand slowly strokes your cheek as he then lets his fingers trace over your jaw and then down your neck and chest, slowing down even more as he reaches your cleavage and then just gently ghosts his fingers between your breasts before resting his hand just beneath them. You feel your breath hitch and get caught in your throat at the intimacy of his touch and you have to remind yourself that this is just for show, just to get these losers to stop hitting on you. Reminding yourself of the message you want to send, you wonder if this is too subtle. You need to make this definitive.

“Be a little more obvious,” you tell Din, the blush returning to your cheeks, I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“More?” Din tries to confirm, “What do you have in mind?”

“Put your hand up my skirt.”

“Ok, now that is definitely a trap.” he chuckles lightly.

“Do it. Put your hand up my skirt,” you practically demand.

“Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” he responds appearing to be amused by this whole situation. He takes his hand, starts to play with the hem of your dress, and then slowly starts to slide his hand up your thigh under your skirt kneading gently as he goes. You feel like you are dying, it is so sensual and so exactly what you have been dreaming of for weeks now. You knew he would be good at this and it’s killing you that it’s just an act. You squirm a little in his lap unable to help yourself and you think you can feel his own arousal, but you tell yourself you must be imagining it.

Din cannot believe this is happening, how is he this lucky? When he caught sight of the men hitting on you at the bar, he figured it was inevitable that you’d be surrounded by would-be suitors and he cursed himself for leaving you alone in a place like this even for a few minutes. A quick scan of the room showed him that you were absolutely the most beautiful woman there. Not that he was surprised, as he’s rarely seen anyone as stunningly gorgeous as you in his opinion. Plus, given this sexy dress you have on, he’s lucky he didn’t have to pry one of them off you. He noticed it right away before you left the ship earlier and had to put on your cloak, but he was hoping to keep that sight to himself. He knows he shouldn’t think of you that way, but he has given up trying to ignore his feelings for you. It’s not just your beauty, but who you are as a person. He’s never met anyone who’s so easy to talk to and who treats him with such respect and kindness. It shocks him how strongly he trusts you and the way he’s let down his guard around you. You might not realize it but you are the best friend he’s ever had, and although he wants more, he’s not quite ready to risk your friendship. If he messes this up, you might see him as just another jerk hitting on you.

Speaking of, Din figured his intimidating presence would keep the jerks away once he got back over to you, but these fools had clearly never met a Mandalorian before because they didn’t have the good sense to leave you alone even when he was standing right next to you. He had been sure he was going to have to punch the creep that grabbed you but then you were sitting in his lap before he had a chance to stand up and defend you. And now, now, he was cuddling with you in the middle of this crowded cantina, touching you in ways he hadn’t let himself dare to think about. He didn’t need the child’s powers to feel the waves of sheer envy coming off of the men in the room. He smirked to himself under his helmet, letting his hand slide up even higher on your thigh than he would have dared but just because he could.

You are becoming entirely swept away by Din’s ministrations on your thigh, and you hear yourself sighing his name, making him smile even more unbeknownst to you.

“Hmm?” he responds gently

“I--,” but you’re cut off by the waiter finally bringing the food.

“Here’s your order, sir” the waiter gives Din a look that is both impressed and jealous as you hide your face in Din’s neck mortified that you have gotten so carried away with this charade.

“Thanks.” Din tells him, slowly removing his hand from under your dress. You slide off his lap into the booth next to him so you can eat. Din keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulders though and you’re still pressed up against his side. You turn away slightly towards the child who has been amusing himself somehow all this time. You give yourself a chance to regain your composure as you focus on giving him some food. You had started to forget the kid was even there and you feel your face flushing again at your shameless behavior. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that this was necessary, and as you glance around the cantina, you can see that no one is paying attention to you anymore. Your message was clearly received. You sigh to yourself and start to eat your dinner.

Din is relaxed and is enjoying the feel of his arm around you. Every so often, his other hand finds its way to your forearm and brushes over your wrist and hand, not quite trying to holding your hand but almost just to remind you that he’s there. It’s flirtatious and romantic in a way that you both love and can’t stand because you know you just want him to keep doing it. You finish your food slowly trying to find a way to prolong this interlude as much as you can, even if it’s not real. Din notices when you’re done though and says, “Ready to head back to the Crest?” You nod at him, knowing it’s for the best and figuring he must be hungry too. You pick up the child and slide out of the booth following Din. He takes the baby from you and secures him in his satchel before reaching back to take your hand. Din threads his fingers through yours and leads you out of the cantina before the jealous eyes of all the other men who tried to claim you for their own earlier. He holds your hand all the way back to the ship and you let yourself bask in the moment, imagining the two of you as a real couple.

Once you’re back on the ship, you busy yourself with putting the child to bed. He’s already drowsy and practically asleep when you get him secure in his hammock. When you turn back around, Din is just watching you, standing there. You can’t imagine what he’s thinking. You suppose you should give him some privacy, let him have a chance to eat his own dinner, but before you do, you figure you ought to say something after all that.

“Thank you, for doing… for helping me out,” you feel rather flustered and it’s making you babble, “back there.” “I just couldn’t get those guys to bug off.”

“It was my pleasure,” he responds rather cheekily, “I figured I was going to get into a bar brawl, but I liked your idea a hell of a lot better.” He tilts his helmet at you and you can swear that you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, thank you, again” you say softly. He steps closer to you and you’re practically touching him as he looks down at you and says with a chuckle, “Any time you need me to feel you up again, just let me know.”

And before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “I will.”

He laughs and tips his head down to you, “Message received.”

---------------------------------------------------------

[superbabetotherescue]

Thanks, Brucie-Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 1840

Summary: You reminisce on your childhood with your best friend

Warnings: some violence, none really described in detail except reader getting punched in the face (as an alternative to getting teeth pulled), do teeth need their own warning bc they might, probably swearing but idk, kinda sad but don’t worry it’s fluffy, Bruce is a lil bitch but isn’t that kinda par for the course?

A/N: Once again this is just an old oneshot I have that I like a weird amount for no reason. You can read it as platonic or romantic it’s up to you idk but I’m lowkey thinking of making it into a series as platonic best friends so idk. I mean you’re reading it if you want it to be romantic that’s fine lmao I don’t care

Growing up one of Gotham’s elite may be a charmed life, but that didn’t mean that it was without its faults. You had spent your time being ignored by your parents, and your best friend, Bruce Wayne, became an orphan during a back alley robbery when the two of you were kids.

Or at least, former best friend.

In truth, you hadn’t seen Bruce in a while.

Well, you saw him constantly on the news and in the papers and just existing in Gotham in general, but you never got to see him face to face anymore.

Not for lack of trying, either. You sat down one night, the fifth time that Bruce had blown you off to meet for dinner in the past month, and pulled out your old photo album.

There was your fifth birthday party, a year or two after you had met Bruce in mega rich kid preschool, and there the two of you were, sharing a chair and staring at your huge birthday cake.

And the next picture, your favorite, the two of you covered in said birthday cake.

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

“Brucie,” You had cried,  whispering to him frantically, “Brucie, I got frosting on my dress!”

You were wearing a frilly pink dress that your mother had forced upon you, and in a moment of excitement you had leaned forward a little too far, and now the pale buttercream frosting covered your bodice.

“Uh oh,” Bruce breathed out slowly, adjusting his tie, pink to match your dress, and looking down at his own tiny three piece suit.

You were panicking, breathing heavily, “My mom is gonna be so mad!”

With a quick tug to your pigtails, Bruce shook his head, “I got this, Y/N.”

He reached forward and scooped a large chunk of the cake out, turning to you and smashing it against your chest quickly.

“Ah!” You jumped backwards, “Bruce!”

“Come on, hit me back,” Bruce hissed, grabbing another handful of cake and smushing it into your face.

As his plan dawned on you, you nodded, getting your own chunk of cake and throwing it at him, laughing delightedly as it landed in his hair.

“Bruce!” Mrs. Wayne scolded, running forward and crouching next to her son, who was currently trying to wrestle you, “You’re such a mess. Ms. Y/L/N, I’m so sorry for my son’s behavior!”

Your mother merely shook her head, smiling pleasantly, “Oh please, don’t worry about it, Martha. Those two are always getting into trouble.”

Victory!

You leaned over to your best friend with a wide grin, wrapping him in a tight hug, “Thanks, Brucie!”

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

Flipping a few pages, you chuckled at what you saw.

Your face and Bruce’s fist matching in bloodiness, and a huge gap where your teeth were missing.

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

You were twelve years old, and you had five loose teeth. Your last five baby teeth. All in a row next to each other.

And, like most twelve year olds, you had a healthy fear of the dentist.

“They want me to go to the dentist tomorrow to get the teeth pulled!” You complained to Bruce, the two of you laying in his living room under the guise of studying.

He shrugged, “You just have to get them out before the dentist, right? Just keep wiggling.”

“I’ve been wiggling!” You sat up, shaking your head, “It’s not working. I need a new approach.  Maybe Alfred can make something sticky for me to eat and the teeth will get stuck in it. Like that toffee your-”

You froze, not looking at Bruce anymore.

His hand touched yours gently, and you turned to see a small, sad smile on his face, “Like the toffee my father used to make at Christmas? That would be good. But Alfred’s working on something, I think.”

Nodding, you hmm’d quietly to yourself for a moment, “I just don’t know what to do. I can’t let the dentist pull my teeth. I just can’t do it, Brucie.”

“Don’t call me Brucie,” He scowled, but you knew he didn’t really care.

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, pushing your teeth back and forth with your tongue as the two of you thought.

“I have an idea,” Bruce stood, extending his hand out to you, “But it’s a little unorthodox.”

If he hadn’t been offering to help you, you would’ve rolled your eyes at the way he spoke.

You rose next to him, nodding, “Anything! Anything that keeps me out of the dentist’s chair.”

He took a breath, deep, slow, thoughtful. His hand reached out towards your face, thumb stroking your lips, palm cupping your jaw and cheek.

What was he doing?

And then he reared his fist back, and punched you in the face.

It hurt, that was for certain, but it was well concentrated in one place, and you coughed as you choked on the teeth, spitting them into your hand.

“There’s only four,” You frowned, counting them quickly.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” He held his fist back out, and you saw the fifth tooth embedded in his knuckle, “You can have it back.”

With a chuckle you plucked the tooth out and pulled him into a hug, “Thanks, Brucie!”

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

Alfred had a field day with that one, you remembered, but it was still better than going to the dentist.

With a few more flicks of pages, you felt your heart catch in your throat.

Prom night.

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

5:30.

Your date was supposed to come meet you at Wayne Manor at 5:30 so that you could go out with Bruce and his pretty blonde arm candy.

And now it was 6:45, and he still wasn’t there.

You’d been pacing the parlor of the Manor for two hours. Bruce and his date kept disappearing to make out in various rooms, and Alfred had stopped standing at the front door and had instead begun to busy himself in the kitchen.

And you were crying.

“Shit,” You hissed, wiping a tiny smear of eyeliner out from under your eye.

You weren’t going to cry over him. Especially not after you’d spent three hours on your makeup. You couldn’t do it.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just leave her,” You heard The Blonde complain to Bruce in the next room over, “She’s totally bringing down the mood.”

“Hey, back off,” Bruce sighed, “She’s my best friend. I’m not leaving her all alone on prom night. Maybe she can just come out with us.“

“I’m not spending my prom night with some loser who got stood up by her own date.”

You bit your lip, swallowing back a sob and then speaking loudly enough for them to know they were meant to hear you, “Hey, Bruce? I think I’m just gonna go, okay? Sorry for holding you guys up.”

“Wait,” Bruce opened the door to the closet he and his date were in, running a hand through his hair, “Y/N, don’t go.”

The Blonde gasped indignantly, and you shook your head, “No, seriously Bruce, don’t worry about it. I’m just-”

“Don’t leave, Y/N,” He said again, and the solidness of his words, the complete authority in how he said it, was enough to freeze you, “I’m taking you to prom. You can’t leave me.”

What?

“What?” The Blonde shrieked, stomping her heel on the ground, “You’re not taking her, you’re taking me!”

Bruce gave her a rather pleasant smile, “Actually, I’m not. I think you’re a stone cold bitch and if I look at you for any longer than fifteen more seconds, I think I’ll vomit. Now get out of my house,” And with that, waving a dismissive hand at her, he turned to you and grinned, “Now, Miss Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honor of being my date to prom?”

A burst of energy running through you, you sprang forward and wrapped him up in a hug, “Absolutely. Thanks, Brucie.”

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

Closing your photo album, you sighed.

It felt like just yesterday in so many ways, and yet a million years ago.

What had happened between you two? What had you done to drive him away? Maybe a walk would clear your head.

You grabbed your keys and left, walking the streets of Gotham and thinking of your younger days.

There was a playground where you and Bruce would sometimes sneak off to play, halfway between both of your houses. It was where you had taught him how to throw a punch when you were six, where he had taught you how to cartwheel when you were eight, and where you two had shared your first kiss when you were ten.

You laughed at that memory too, wishing you had a picture in your album of that day, when the two of you had decided to be each other’s first kiss just so you’d know what you were getting yourselves into.

You’d sat on top of the monkey bars, staring into each other’s eyes as you came to your solemn decision, and leaned forward to give each other the briefest of pecks on the lips. And then you’d both fallen off the monkey bars, wiping your mouths and gagging dramatically.

Standing by those monkey bars, you ran your hands down the side with a smile.

And then you felt the cold barrel of a gun press into the back of your neck.

“Give me all your money, and get on your knees,” A dark voice growled.

Crap.

How could you let yourself be taken completely by surprise, in Gotham of all places?

Shaking, you tried to speak, your voice catching in your throat, “I… I don’t…”

“Hey!” A familiar voice sounded through the air, cutting you off, “Back off!”

You felt the  rounded metal leave your skin and let out a sigh of relief.

Spinning on your heel, you watched as your attacker, a large man with a ski mask pulled over his face, so cliche, got the crap beaten out of him by…

“Batman?” You gasped.

Of course!

Batman wrapped an arm around you, scoffing at the thug on the ground, and shot a grappling hook into the air.

As you felt yourself fly your head spun, trying to wrap your mind around everything.

So this was why he kept standing you up. Why he always came up with some flimsy excuse. He couldn’t just tell you he was the Batman, and besides, the mystery of it all was surely an ego thing for him.

You landed outside your house a moment later, the dark suit encompassing Batman just intimidating enough for you to almost take a step back as he rumbled, “You should be more careful. Especially at night.”

But you couldn’t take his warning seriously.

Your best friend wasn’t avoiding you, he didn’t hate you, he just had a secret!

You were too ecstatic to pay his advice any mind.

And so you simply wrapped him in a hug, your arms erupting into goosebumps against the cold armor that he wore, “Thanks, Brucie.”

[aenxiome]

Chapter 1: Our Hero the Zero

"You have to tell them," Oh not this again, "I'm sure they will understand" swallowing a sigh, I look up from my food to my best friends and brace for impact, "It's not like you're actually dead."

"If I went up to them and said that I have ghost powers, what do you think they will do? You've met my parents; they shoot first and ask questions later." Sam didn't look impressed, "Once they realize that it's you, they won't. They love you, Danny; your parents wouldn't hurt you." I look over to Tucker, looking for support, but he was too engrossed with his new PDA, 'Simone,' to catch my look.

"Just forget it," I tell them as we leave the cafeteria, "If it's that important to you guys, I'll think about it." Under my breath, I couldn't help muttering to myself, 'maybe in a thousand years.'

From there, we split ways, with each of us having a different elective. Being our resident techno-geek, Tucker has computer programing for this block, while Sam takes a botany course. As I go down the hall, I can't help but wonder why they don't understand the issue.

My parents, the town crazies, are ghost hunters.

What do they think they will do when they find out? Hug me and tell me that everything is going to be all right? If anything, that would bring about the end of my life.

Or is it my afterlife?

Anyway, they're more likely to put me in a cage and study me than anything else. Who knows what type of experiments they would come up with. If anything, it's best to stay quiet and stay out of their way.

My thoughts leave me as I get thrown shoulder-first into the side of a locker. "Well, look what we have here, little Fentina walking all alone. Where did your friends go? Did they finally realize that you're a loser and leave you?"

"Wow, Dash, so original how long did it take you to come up with that one?" He didn't answer, not even acknowledging my question, and continued to insult me. "I'm in a bad mood Fenton. You wanna know why? One of you nerds didn't make my notes. So, I got a 'D'" He jabs the failing assignment into my face, "and I'm going to take it out on you" He pushes me back into the lockers. He gives me a couple of sucker punches to the stomach when the warning bell rings. He looks to the clock and then back at me. "I'll get you later, Fenton," He yells at me while he sprints down the hallway to his next class.

I pull myself away from the lockers and head to my next class. I make it down to the next hall when the final bell rings. I continue on my way to the science hall while dodging the teachers handing out detention slips for running late. When I got to class, the teacher Ms. Tally was waiting for me at the door. "Your late again, Daniel," looking to her watch then back at me, "three minutes late, to be precise."

The thing about Ms. Tally is that you can never figure out if she is angry or not. She has a neutral deposition that makes determining her emotions impossible. There is no way to tell what she is going to do. For the moment, my fate is in her hands. She stares at me for a second, "Get to your seat Mr. Fenton" she says as she walks away, dismissing me. That was close. I was sure that I was going to get detention.

"Mr. Fenton," or second thought maybe I will, "Come back after school we need to talk."

Great, just great there goes my plans with Sam and Tucker.

"Pass up your star charts, and let us continue where we left off yesterday." Ms. Tally called out to everyone. Ms. Tally teaches my favorite subject, Astronomy. This is one of the few classes I have with none of the A-List crowd and the only class where I'm the only one from my year.

It is perfect.

It's a fresh start.

While in other classes, I'm a 'C' average student, in this one, I get to be myself and show what I know. I hope that by the end of the year, it will still be like that. This is my only chance to show that I'm not an idiot. Okay, well, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. I do pretty well in math and other sciences in general, but those classes usually come with help from my friends and others.

No one can say that I'm cheating or getting my results unfairly. In this class, everything that I know is all me.

Once the class has finished passing up the star charts, Ms. Tally talks about sunspots. It's fascinating, really. But all too soon, the hour ends, and the stress of school comes back full force when trying to stay out of Dash or the football team's sight and finish up the day. Finally, I make it to class right before the warning bell and the hour of torture begins.

After Astronomy, anything after feels like it is going on forever. Soon enough, I start to daydream, and the real world falls into the background as I think about exploring the stars. Every once in a while, I would come back down to earth and pay attention to something, but for the most part, my head was up in the clouds.

Eventually, the last bell of the day rings, signaling the end of the day. I gather my things and meet up with Sam and Tucker by my locker. "Danny, you ready?" Well, no time like the present, "Yeah, about that," I say apprehensive when Tucker talks over me in an accusing monotone voice, "you have detention again, don't you?" I couldn't help the hand going to my neck as I said meekly, "Sorry." Sam rolls her eyes, "Can't you just stay out of trouble for once?"

"Well, it's not like I'm trying to get in trouble," I tell her haughty "Yeah, Yeah, we know," They say together. "So, see you tomorrow then?" I ask "tomorrow," she said, agreeing. "Bye, Danny," they call as they walk out of the building.

I dredge down the halls back to the Astronomy classroom, wanting to get this conversation over with. But, once I got there, I knocked on the door, and Ms. Tally walks out with a stack of papers. "Follow me, Mr. Fenton," she orders as we go back to the same halls I had just gone through and then to the front of the building. We stopped once we got to the Office. Only about half of the staff was still there. The rest of them have already gone home for the day.

She has me sit in one of the chairs for a couple of minutes when she goes to the back of the office. When she comes back later, she beckons me forward. She has me trail behind her until we reach Mr. Lancer's office, My homeroom English teacher and Vice-principal.

She knocks twice before I hear the dreaded words, "Come in."

Mr. Lancers' office is a small but clean space and outdated. The carpet has seen better years as it has become discolored and has a bit of a smell. The back of the room is filled with filing cabinets looking ready to combust. In the center of the room is his desk with stacks of paper and an old box computer.

If His office is this bad, I have to wonder what that says about the rest of the school. "Have a seat, Daniel; we have much to discuss." I nod and sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk while Ms. Tally sits in the other. "Um, Mr. Lancer, what is it exactly that we are here to talk about?" He gives Ms. Tally a look, "You didn't tell him?" She shifts a little while Mr. Lancer lets out a loud sigh, "We are here to talk to you about your grades and attendance." This won't be good, "you have been tarty to class fifteen times in the past two weeks, and your grades in some classes completely contradict the rest. So what is going on, Daniel?"

I stare at my hands, trying to find something to say for myself, but all I could come up with was excuses. Finally, Ms. Tally startles me out of my thoughts when she suddenly asks, "What happened today? Being three minutes late to my class is abnormal for you." Mr. Lancer gives her a questioning glance, "Only by three minutes?"

"Yes, Daniel has never been more than a minute late to my class others have but never him; he is almost always punctual." Mr. Lancer silently passes her my class attendant's log. I didn't even have to read it to know what it says, fifteen minutes late here, thirty there, leaving class and never coming back, and other infractions filled that page. "Besides being late, Mr. Fenton also has a habit of falling asleep in class," he informs her.

They both look at me and ask again, "what's going on?" I didn't know what else to do, so I told them the only thing that I can the truth. I told them about the bullying, pushing me into lockers, taking my homework, the punching and jabs in the hallway, and the constant distracting conversations and lollygagging when the teachers' backs are turned.

Ms. Tally didn't say anything while Mr. Lancer looked sympathetic. Finally, after a moment of silence, Ms. Tally broke the quiet, "While that explains why you are always late to class, and we will be doing something about that don't you worry, it doesn't give any reason for the rest of the attendance issues, grades, or the sleeping in class. Is there anything else you want to let us in on?"

"It's complicated," I started before I found myself pausing. I can't tell them about the ghost fighting; that would never end well. So, I ended up telling an altered version of the truth. Sighing, I managed to say to them, "I'm just not getting enough sleep." Mr. Lancer cut me off before I was able to say anything else, "Why is that? What is keeping you up?" Giving him an annoyed look for him cutting me off and his impatiens. "Look, this is hard to talk about. No interruptions, please?"

I ask them, irritated once I get assurance from them both, I start up again.

"There is never a quiet moment at home my parents are either inventing all through the night or going in and out trying to catch ghosts." I sigh, then look at them wearily, Oh, Jazz is going to hate me for this, "being the son of a ghost hunter isn't fun; all of these ghosts that keep coming through keep bothering me. They are either trying to get to and from the Ghost portal or trying to get to Jazz and me to get back at our parents. We never get a break. Not even at school. That's why I keep disappearing all of the time. Jazz doesn't have it as bad since she is older, but as the youngest, it puts a target on me." I make eye contact with Mr. Lancer, trying to figure out if he believes me or not. By the end of my story, his face had paled, looking close to white, while Ms. Tally looks between us with disbelief etched into her face. She looks like she is trying to figure out where the end of the joke is. Once it became apparent that I am telling the truth, her jaw became slack, and she looked at me, her eyes blown wide.

I think I may have broken her.

"Oh, Huckleberry Finn," I hear him mutter, "That definitely explains some things." But then, he looks at me with a tired look in his eye, "and your grades?"

"That's actually pretty easy to understand," I say with a nervous chuckle, "In all honesty, I'm just really not good at liberal art subjects. Give me Science or Math anytime, but I would rather run a mile around the school than do English or history. But, don't me wrong, I do try; I just never really get them." Ms.Tally, who had finally gotten back her composure, looked at me with a single eyebrow raised. " I don't really get it myself, but ill try to explain, um," I run my fingers through my hair as I tink up an analogy, "It's like im doing a puzzle, but some pieces are missing. No matter how hard I try, the pieces that I have left just don't fit into place." I blush a little at my own confession," Does that make any sense?"

"It does actually," he says, "It's like that for many of us. Though it is usually math that causes the most trouble." He sends me a small smile as he turns around towards the filing cabinet. "Just keep trying, and in time the pieces will come together." then pulls out a couple of forms from a drawer, " if you are having so many issues with those classes, why didn't you ask to transfer out?"

"Those are the only classes I have with my friends, and if my schedule changed, there is no guarantee I'll get lunch break with them," I tell truthfully, starting to get worried about the papers he brought out. "Now that you know, can't you just make it so that I sit away from them, the A-list? I would do better, I promise, please don't take me out of class with my friends," I beg him.

Mr. Lancer looked to be thinking it over when Ms. Tally interrupted, "Is that why you don't have trouble in my class, is there no one of that," she pauses, trying to find the right word, "clique; during your period?"

I nod, agreeing with her statement, "The class is filled with people from the older years too, and nobody in there has to agree with my classmates A-list." Ms. Tally looked satisfied with my answer and let it go while Mr. Lancer looked ready to deliver his verdict.

"We will give it a try," he started holding his hand up in a stopping motion when I started thanking him, "I said we would give it a try, but if things continue as they are or get any worse, you will have to transfer to another class. Do you understand?"

I was nodding, readily agreeing.

"If that's all we have to talk about, may I go?" The teachers agreed when suddenly Mr. Lancer stopped me, "One more thing. Your sleeping problem, what do you plan to do about that?"

"Invest in some really good earplugs," I say, shrugging. Mr. Lancer starts humming a bit in thought while putting the forms back into his desk, "If that doesn't work, then we will be forced to pull you out of an elective and give you a study hall. We can't have you falling asleep throughout the day."

"I'll try harder, sir."

"Have a good day, Danny."

As soon as the words 'Good Day' were out of his mouth, I reached for the door and left. I spotted a clock on my way out of the school, and to my surprise, our talk didn't take any more than forty-five minutes. Once I was out, I walked for a good ten minutes or so, hoping to make it to the Nasty Burger before Sam and Tucker decided to leave.

Once I got to the old dinner, I looked around for my friends, but I couldn't find them in our usual booth. So I looked around some more, hoping to see them sitting somewhere else, but the only familiar faces in there weren't friendly ones. I was just about to leave when I felt a chill going through my body and saw the mist spilling out of my mouth into my face.

I rushed into the bathroom and checked to make sure it was empty before entering a stall and whispered to myself, "guess it's time to die," and let my transformation take over.

My body became inverted, with my black hair becoming a startling white and my eyes going from a light blue to a toxic glowing green. My clothes left my body, and in their place was the hazmat suit from the portal accident.

I rushed out of the nasty Burger and looked around for any sign of danger when I heard off in the distance, "BEWARE, FOR I AM THE MASTER OF ALL THINGS CUBEICAL AND SQUARE!" Oh, for everything good in the world, why of all ghosts did it have to be him. I flew to the back of the restaurant and found him messing with a delivery driver.

I was sneaking up on him when the driver yelped and pointed in my direction, giving away my position. "Really," I say to the driver, "you just had to give me away" I threw my hands up in exasperation. It's going to be so much harder to catch him now. "Come on, Boxxy, do we have to do this again? I sent you back to the zone this morning." That's the thing about Boxxy, the Box Ghost. Despite not being much more than a nuisance, he is one of the most nerve-racking ghosts to catch. If I didn't know any better, I would think he has his own personal portal with how often he slips between dimensions.

Boxxy glowered at me while rushing up into my face, " I AM NOT BOXXY, I AM THE BOX GHOST" I cross my arms trying to make a point, "Isn't that what I just said, Boxxy?"

"BOX GHOST"

"Boxxy"

"BOX GHOST"

"Well, I say your Boxxy."

"BOX GHOST, B-O-X GHOST!"

I wave him off. "Well, come on, Boxxy, I don't have all day" He started chucking boxes at the driver and me while floating away while grumbling about name-calling. It took me half an hour to catch the nuisance, " Any last words, Boxxy" I ask him while pulling out the Fenton Thermos.

"I AM NOT BOXX-" he said while being pulled into the device.

Once he is secured, I retrace my steps, collect the boxes, and return them to the Nasty Burger. When I got there, the driver tried to explain what had happened earlier when I called out to one of the servers.

" Excuse me, but I believe these belong to you." I land in front of the server and gently put the boxes onto the ground. "Oh my gosh, I know you! Your inviso-bill!" I cringed a bit at the name, "The name is Phantom, Danny Phantom," being annoyed that after all these months that people were still messing up my name.

Their aww quickly changed to apologetic, "I'm sorry, Mr.Phantom, sir." I started laughing a little; it was not a giggle, no matter what anyone else claims. It was a laugh, a manly laugh. I couldn't help its escape. No one has ever called me sir before, "It's okay, just happy to help," I reassured. After they had all of their boxes, I flew away.

I started a patrol around the city looking for any malevolent ghost that had managed to get out while occasionally helping little old ladies across the street and saving the occasional cat out of a tree. It's nice to be able to help out even when ghosts aren't attacking. Also, it gives me more time to relax in my ghost form, which I don't get to do very often. Before I knew it, the sun was starting to set, and it was time to make my way home.

[kireii-writes]

okay so what if megumi brought his friend over to hang out only to have toji sneak them away and rearrange their gutss

ah also i really enjoy your work! i hope you’re living your best life :)

Taint

-

a/n: thanku anon! i hope you’re living your best life too <3 // also another toji thirst?? you really know how to get me going. i may or may not have went too far with this too because it’s toji, duh

-

warning(s):​ nsfw dubcon, toji rearranging reader’s guts, riding toji (because toji is a dick), kinda slow burn- im so invested in this man

-

Going to Megumi’s house everyday after school was sort of a ritual for you. Every time you hung out at his house, the both of you would end up in front of the TV, two pairs of eyes glued to the screen as fingers danced deftly across two different game controllers.

Today was no different. Or so you thought.

“... that’s why, Gojo-sensei will be the death of me one day.” You sighed as you and Megumi reached his front gate.

“Ah.” Realization struck him abruptly at the mention of the white haired teacher. “I forgot to grab something. There’s this new sweet that Gojo-sensei wants me to get for him.” Megumi let out a sigh at the thought of having to make an extra trip just to get something for his childlike teacher.

“I’ll be back soon, can you start lunch first please.” Megumi asked as he handed you the remaining bags of groceries the both of you had bought on the way back.

Muttering about how troublesome Gojo is, Megumi stalked off in the direction of the nearest convenience store before you could say anything. Left with no choice, you made your way into Megumi’s home, grateful that you decided to bring along the extra set of keys he had given to you before.

~~~

Humming to yourself, you grabbed a clean shirt from Megumi’s drawer and replaced it with your school uniform. Stepping out of your iffy school bottoms, a sigh of satisfaction escaped from you as the cool air hit your legs. You figured it would be fine, since you were the only one at home and you probably weren’t Megumi’s type.

Making your way to the kitchen, you began preparing lunch, engrossed in whatever you were making so much so that you did not realize someone had entered the house until you heard footsteps approaching you.

“Welcome back Megumi-” You looked up from the vegetables you were cutting, fully expecting your close friend. But instead, you came face to face with a towering man whom you recognize to be Megumi’s father. Though he was not frequently home, you’ve met him once or twice when he drops by.

“W-welcome home, Mr Fushiguro.” Your voice meek as you were suddenly conscious of the way you look- a few strands of hair falling across your face, you in nothing but Megumi’s over-sized shirt that dropped at a shoulder and your underwear.

You would never admit it, but the man in front of you made you more excited than you should be. “Just Toji is fine.” The short haired male smirked as he made his way towards you.

“Don’t let me stop you.” Toji gestured at the vegetables you were cutting up before he appeared. “I look forward to having lunch with you, y/n.”

Just the sound of your name rolling of his tongue was enough to drive you insane.

Sure, Toji may be hot, but he’s the father of your close friend. What would Megumi think of you if you told him you’re attracted to his father? Plus, he was too old for you and probably sees you as nothing but a small child.

Ignoring the blatant stares of Toji as he parked himself at the dining table, you focused on the task at hand and whipped up a hot lunch for the three of you.

“Megumi would be home soon, would you mind waiting?” You asked Toji, making sure to avoid all eye contact as you placed a bowl of rice and miso soup in front of him and trying your best to ignore how he looked at your legs with no shame.

“I don’t know, can you wait?” Toji licked his lips. Instantly, the action drew you to his wet lips. How would his lips feel on your skin? You were dying to find out. Rubbing your legs together subtly, you were about to give an answer when Megumi emerged, the surprised look on his face immediately masked by an expressionless one when he saw you talking to his father.

“You’re here.” Megumi stated gruffly, refusing to make eye contact with his father. Given how things had turned out, you couldn’t blame him. But the tension that hung in the air was getting too thick for your comfort.

“Megumi! I made your favorite dish, eat it before it gets cold.” You urged. A poor attempt at breaking the tension, you admitted. Thankfully, Megumi humored you and sat down opposite his father, while you took your place between the both of them, the three of you eating in silence.

“By the way, Megumi,” You piped up after awhile, hoping to ease the awkwardness between the father and son duo. “There’s this new game I’ve been wanting to try out, let’s play it after we finish eating.”

Nodding his head in agreement, the younger male continued to eat in silence.

~~~

“Give it up, loser.” You teased as Megumi groaned in frustration. “You’ll never beat me.” You giggled.

“Maybe it’s because I’m using the wrong controller. Here, give me yours.” Before you could react, a pair of strong arms tackled you onto the floor, hands and limbs entangled together as the both of you fought for the controller.

“No way!” You retorted and attempted to struggle out of Megumi’s grip. “It’s my lucky controller I’ve been using since day one!”

The both of you were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize Toji was staring at you underneath his son. If looks could kill, Megumi might be in danger by now.

As you finally pushed Megumi off of you, your face was flushed from your now exposed stomach when Megumi had struggled for the controller. Hastily pushing down your shirt, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of disappointment and relief seeing that Toji was nowhere to be found.

~~~

“I have to go to the bathroom, you can start without me.” You informed the boy next to you after a few more rounds of battle. “I have to wash my hands.” You sighed as you pushed yourself up from the floor and made your way towards the bathroom without waiting for a reply.

Just as you were about to enter the bathroom, a strong arm encircled your waist as the other found it’s way to your mouth, stopping the surprised squeak that left your mouth abruptly.

“Don’t make a sound and go in” Toji’s hot breath tickled your neck, clouding your thoughts. Obediently, your legs walked you into the bathroom, Toji following behind as he locked the door.

“Mr F-fushiguro...” You stammered, the close proximity of you and Toji making you delirious.

“I told you, Toji is fine.” Toji smirked as his rough fingers brought your chin up. “There’s something bothering me, y/n.” He hummed, his cold yet lustful eyes roaming across your face and trembling body.

“Wha-what is it, T-toji?” You unconsciously licked your dry lips. Toji’s eyes landed on your throat as you swallowed.

“It’s the fact that you’re too close to my son.” He hummed, the loss of skin contact making you a little lonely.

“Are you trying to seduce my son?” Toji mocked as he sat on the covered toilet seat, his face mocking you.

“N-no.” You answered truthfully, not daring to look at Toji in the eye. “...”

“Really? Because it seems to me that you’re throwing yourself at my son. If you’re interested in my son, I’ll have to make sure you’re good enough for him.” The cockiness was evident in Toji’s taunting.

“NO!” You countered abruptly, causing Toji to cock an eyebrow at you. “I-i’m not interested in your son. sir.”

“And why is that? Megumi has potential, you know.”

You looked down at your toes and could visibly see the gears in your mind turning and trying to churn out a reasonable excuse. There was no way in hell you could tell Toji it’s because of him.”

Unfortunately for you, Toji read your mind in that instant.

“Is it because you want me instead?” His taunting deep voice made your heart rate speed up. “Are you using my son to get to me? That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?” You kept silent, but your cheeks were now red in embarrassment, all because Toji was right. he was right about you wanting him, and how you hoped he would be there to notice that you were getting too close to Megumi, in hopes of him correcting that.

“Answer me, brat.” Toji growled, impatience written all over his face.

“Y-yes.” You blushed fiercely, not daring to look Toji in the eye as he grabbed you by the jaw roughly.

“Then I think we could do something about it, hm?”

As if anticipating your answer, you were roughly pulled towards the big man, his thick fingers working deftly to remove the only barrier between you and him.

“Show me how much you want me.” Toji ordered, his pants come undone in an instant.

“Spread those legs and show me how much you want me.” Toji drawled on, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulled you towards him.

Like the obedient little pet you were, you complied to his demands, eager to please the man in front of you.

“Fuck.” Toji cursed as he was fully sheathed in you, your arousal making it easier for you to take him.

He was big- big enough that you let out a mixed moan of pain and excitement.

“If you’re good, i’ll fuck you.” Toji hummed as a hand snaked up to your scalp, tugging at the roots of your hair. “Go on, be good and ride me like you mean it.” He nudged.

Hesitatingly, you rolled your hips back and forth, one hand on his chest and the other at the back of his neck. The pained look on your face did nothing but made Toji harder as you sped up, your teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the moans that were threatening to spill out.

“I can’t hear you.” Toji taunted. With a sharp thrust, Toji bucked his hips towards you, earning a strangled moan from you.

“M-Megumi...” You whined, hopping that Toji would get your point as you continued to ride him, your movements never slowing down as you attempted to chase your high. “Megumi w-will hear... ah!” a sweet moan fell from your lips as Toji sucked on your neck and collarbone, leaving blooming marks all over you.

“You just have to ride me like the slut you are.” Toji grunted as you continued pushing yourself down onto him. You fitted him so well- so tight and pure, just for him to taint and destroy.

“I’m gonna...” Your words were cut off by a rough kiss, Toji’s warm tongue slipping into your mouth and intertwining with yours.

Expertly, Toji flipped you over as he pushed you against the sink, his thrusts never faltering.

“See how good you’re taking me? You’re such a slut, y/n.” Toji panted as he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror.

You were a masterpiece to behold. Something so pure and innocent completely destroyed by Toji. Bruises and hickies were blooming like flowers all over your skin, sweat was rolling down your forehead, and a look of euphoric bliss all over your face as Toji pounded roughly into you, his eyes trained on you the whole time.

“You feel so fucking good.” Toji panted, burying his face in your hair. “And you looks so beautiful with me in you.”

“Do you see it, my little slut? How well you’re taking me?” The hand around your throat reached to press down on your lower abdomen, a bulge clearly visible due to Toji’s sheer size.

“T-Toji!” You panted, nearing your climax.

Without a single word, Toji continued his assault on your body, his big hands now roaming everywhere.

“Imagine how Megumi would feel when he finds out his best friend has been fucking his old man and actually enjoys it.” Toji panted, his chest heaving as he pounded into you with so much force that you had to plant your hands into the basin so that you wouldn’t fall.

“Shall we give him a little something?” Toji continued as you continued to clench around him, your mewls and moans filling the bathroom. With one last thrust, Toji’s hand pulled you towards him, causing you to arch your back.

“Cum for me.” He finally ordered.

Desperate to keep Megumi from finding out what had happened, you covered your mouth with both hands in an attempt to muffle your moans as you unclench your walls around Toji, a warm sensation filling you up as Toji finally relaxed.

As your legs gave way beneath you, strong arms caught you before you hit the floor, and you were pressed into Toji’s warm and heaving chest before you knew it.

“Now, you better get back before Megumi becomes suspicious.” Toji finally spoke up as he pulled away from you.

“We’ll do this again, don’t look so sad.” Toji taunted as he pulled his pants up, leaving you worn out on the toilet seat.

“After all, you deserve to be tainted.”

[thesunflowersutra]

Hello!!

I just read your last headcanon.

I was wondering: how would Bucky feel about seeing Zemo with kids? Knowing all his past and his grief?

Hello, anony!!!!! After I got your ask, I couldn't help but thinking about a little scene featuring them + kids. I hope you don't mind me taking some time to answer this but I wanted to write it for you <3 I hope you like it! :'') SOOO I DID IT! It's on "read more" but you can find it here as well, for AO3 users!

Bucky should have seen it coming at some point. Halfway through dinner at Sam's house, the host's phone rang with an urgent appointment - a "moon stuff" appointment as the trio affectionately called occurrences for Captain America that could not be postponed. Although Wilson's first instinct had been to deny it - after all, he had promised Sarah he would look after AJ and Cass that weekend while she took a few days to herself. His gaze met Zemo's across the table as Bucky had stood and made his way toward his friend, taking the phone from his hand. "All right, no problem, he'll be there soon. Good night, Torres", Barnes said into the phone, ignoring the mostly confused looks Sam was giving him. As he hung up the phone and handed it back to Sam, Bucky turned his gaze back to his friend, "Torres told you to be here in half an hour," he finished, returning to his previous seat at the table, as if nothing had happened.

Noticing Sam's look, Zemo let a short smile appear on his face, "We'll take care of the boys, Sam, don't worry," the Sokovian said, trying to reassure him. “Go fetch your affairs, we will be fine”, he said. Although he was past the stage of distrusting Zemo -even thought he and Bucky had been in a stable and healthy relationship with each other for a long time and Wilson trusted his friend's judgment, there was a certain difference between having weekly dinner nights to tell them the news and meeting once or twice to share a beer and leaving their nephews in the care of their two friends without warning. However, Sam knew that of the pair - and possibly from all his social circle -, the Sokovian was the closest thing to a family man he had around and the boys liked Bucky a lot. Maybe... maybe he could give them a vote of confidence.

"If you need anything - anything at all - be sure to call me," Sam repeated for the twentieth time before leaving the house, and by that time, both Bucky and AJ and Cass seemed to kick the other out the front door, looking forward to the long videogame duel that would take place that night - under the judgment of Zemo who always made sure to keep them competing as fair as possible.

***

Sam's nephews were already in their beds asleep, enveloped in the tranquility of sleep and the Sokovian lullaby tune that Zemo was humming - although they were a little older than children who necessarily needed lullabies to be lulled to sleep, Cass and Zemo protested that no one was "too old" to be lulled to sleep - which caused AJ and Bucky to giggle a few times. The scene, however, had been enough to leave the American slightly touched.

The thought of children being a part of their everyday life was something that Bucky avoided doing. The dream of building a family had not crossed his mind even in the 1940s, before his life was completely taken over by chaos, and in those more than ninety years he would be lying if he said the thought had ever occurred to him again. For all intents and purposes, he had Zemo, Alpine, Sam, Oeznik... those who had become his family - and he was happy.

One of the main reasons, however, why that thought had not occurred to him was also Zemo's own grief over his own family - the family he had lost along with his country. Helmut was someone dedicated to the memory of his family, he paid his respects and remembrances with a certain frequency but he had certainly moved on - not only to the mourning itself but mostly for allowing himself to continue living, for allowing himself to rebuild a life that, as far as Bucky wanted to believe, was being on his side.

However, standing there, watching Helmut carefully lull the Wilson boys to sleep, Bucky couldn't help but wonder if those thoughts were part of Zemo's mind.

***

As they returned to the living room of Sam's house, far enough away from the guest room where AJ and Cass were so that their voices wouldn't disturb the younger ones' sleep, Bucky unceremoniously flopped down on the couch, and a few seconds later Zemo nestled into his arms just as Alpine did, in a configuration that had become natural to both of them. The fingers of Barnes' left hand quietly stroked through Zemo's brownish strands. "I think we did okay, right?" uttered Zemo, in a calm tone, although he seemed somewhat distracted - and this time it wasn't by the small mess of chip jars and video game controls that lay across the carpet near the television. "Speak for yourself, AJ is a terrible loser at video games," Barnes muttered, making mention of the brief moment when he and Cass had beaten the older boy in a wrestling game match, receiving a shower of chip chips in his face and hair from the other.

Aside from the typical messy moments, the evening had been uneventful. Pleasant, even. Zemo let slip a smile that resembled a showcase of melancholy. Bucky moved somewhat worriedly, nestling Zemo a little closer in his arms. "You look... sad, though," he whispered, not wanting to alarm the shorter man too much with his concern. "I'm fine, just...thinking," the Sokovian began, aware that Bucky's blue eyes were watching him intently yet avoiding meeting them directly. "I was thinking about my Carl. If... he and the boys would be friends. I believe so, they are as energetic and fanatical about games as my little one was," Zemo confessed. It was common for him to remark about his son - his favorite candy, some stories of family trips or important moments of the little boy's childhood that had been left in the past, but not forgotten.

Bucky's gaze still watched Zemo thoughtfully, and, aware of the other's audience and attention, Helmut continued.

"Carl would be a little older than AJ, I believe, but... I wish he was here. That he had met you. Surely he would have many questions to ask about your Avengers friends," the shorter man confessed, with a soft giggle. "Don't look at me like that, they are your friends," he added, as he observed the American's frown. "I'm not sad, I promise. Just thoughtful," he said, trying to assure Bucky that he was indeed alright. "You worry too much, James," he finally concluded, leaving a short kiss on Bucky's cheek closer to him.

The American attempted to reassure himself with Zemo's voice and his apparent calm, nodding slowly to what he had told him, while his fingers still stroked the shorter man's hair carefully. "It's fun to watch you with children. You are patient and caring. I can see that AJ and Cass like you," Barnes said with a short smile. "I don't think I would object to us taking them over to stay at our house once in a while, what do you think? Alpine would certainly love the company," he murmured. The thought of the Persian cat cohabitating with children was certainly something too chaotic to bring into the already chaotic lives they lived, but he couldn't deny himself the closeness to the two youngest Wilsons, let alone something that seemed to bring some comfort to Zemo's heart. "We can talk to Sam and Sarah about it when he gets back, but... right now, we need to get all this potato chips out of your hair," Zemo said, taking a piece of the yellowish food from Barnes' dark strands, who was smiling a little wider now that he knew it was okay.

It was hard not to smile in the presence of someone who seemed to understand and complete him in every aspect of his life. Somehow, they had managed to build something together that made them feel safe in a world that certainly had showed them what danger was.

[allegra-writes]

Bratty b****

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Dom!Peter, Smut.

The request:

Hi love your writing and have never made a request but here goes. Tony’s daughter is going through a rebellious phase, going out to parties and getting to the Tower at all hours of the night. Punishments don’t seem to be getting through to her at all and everyone’s at their wits end. Insert dom!Peter finding her at a party and bringing her back home to lay down the law if you know what i mean…

Also, for all of you the anons that wanted new Dom!Peter and SSC talks.

MY MASTERLIST

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Parker? Put me the fuck down right NOW!”

Peter complied, letting go of you so suddenly you ended in a heap on the floor. The indignant look you threw his way reminded him of an angry kitten, and he had to suppress a smile. Even drunk and disheveled you were god damn adorable. And that was part of the problem: you had everyone wrapped around your finger, and were perfectly aware of it. 

No wonder you weren’t afraid of any punishment, none of them ever stuck long enough for you to regret your actions, consequences always swept under the rug before they could sully you or your reputation. Even the press, so merciless with lower socialites, was so happy to have the Stark heiress back, that every new misadventure was portrayed in an indulgent light, words like “enfant terrible”, “little hellion” or “New York’s favorite troublemaker” decorating headlines everywhere he turned.

But that ended tonight. 

He watched you stand up, fixing your way-too-short-dress so it would cover the top of your thighs, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. 

“Where are we?”

“My apartment” Peter replied, simply. You knew the penthouse was just on the next floor, but there, in that darkened kitchen alone with him, it seemed incredibly far. You hadn’t been alone with him since Titan, and you didn’t quite know how to deal with this Peter, so different from the awkward, wide eyed boy who used to trail behind you like a puppy. This grown up, confident Peter that was older than you, that had been an Avenger for six years, intimidating enough to clear a party all by himself, without needing his Spider-man persona.

But then again, you didn’t know how to deal with much of anything these days. Going to sleep in 2018 and waking up in 2023 would do that to you. 

“Why did you bring me to your apartment?” Your voice came out a little unsteady, as you tried to get a grip on your heart, beating wildly inside your chest, tried to squash that little sliver of hope down before it managed to cut you and bleed you dry. Because you knew what you wanted from Peter was something you could never have. And it wasn’t just cause of that awesome girlfriend of his. 

He leaned casually on the kitchen island, arms crossed in front of his chest and you couldn’t help but notice how solid and powerful they looked clad in black leather.

“To have a little talk” he met your eyes, concern clear in his, “about your behavior…”

Your stomach drop with the weight of a thousand dead butterflies. Of course. This was an intervention. He was being big brother Peter, that was how he saw you, a little sister, just like Morgan, another Starkling for him to guide, to nurture and protect.

And maybe your own little sister preferred his bedtime stories over yours. Maybe your own father called him son, and your -technically step- mother sent him to chaperone you whenever you went out to party, but he was never ever going to be your brother. 

“And exactly who do you think you are to have a talk with me?” You sneered, voice like sugar venom, sweet and cruel. Lethal. “You are no one, you’re not my boyfriend, you’re not my friend, and I know you like to pretend you’re a Stark, but you are not my brother. You are nothing.”

You watched the air get knocked out of his lungs, as if your words had physically hit him as they hit their mark. Satisfied with the stunned, devastated look on his face, you turned to leave. But only made it a couple of steps before feeling his fingers wrap around your wrist in a vice like grip, spinning you around and pulling you to him.

You stumbled, falling against his chest, and he kept you there, arm snaking around your back, pressing you close. Dangerously close. 

“And you” he whispered, nose pressed against your cheek, breath hot against your face. You realized you weren’t the only one that had been drinking. “are a bratty little bitch. You think I wanna be any of those things? That I’d be satisfied with any of those things?“ 

His fingers dug deeper into your skin, and you cried out, finally reacting.

"Parker, let me go, your hurting me!” You struggled in his grasp, but he was way too strong. 

“You mean more than you’ve been hurting yourself? Hanging out with those losers” He spat, shaking you a little, “Day drinking? Sneaking out every night? Have you any idea how worried Pepper was when she called?" 

"Peter, you’re scaring me!”

“Good!” He replied, shaking you harder, “It’s about fucking time you learn that your actions have consequences" 

He manhandled you until you were trapped between him and the kitchen island. A firm push against the square of your shoulders had you bent over it, face against the cold marble, as he took both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them against your back, his other hand traveling under your dress. He kicked your legs open, placing a knee between yours so you couldn’t close them back up.

"What the fuck are you doing you sick fuck?!”

“I’m thinking eighteen slaps” He commented casually, ignoring your insult, “one for every night you sneaked out this month, and you are going to count them”

You renovated your struggle as he pushed your dress up, exposing your ass, but he leaned over your back, trapping you under his weight. 

“Wanna know who I am, little girl?” He breathed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine “I’m your master.”

SLAP.

You cried out. There was strength behind the hit, the sting lasting long after his hand was gone.

“One” he said and you remembered his words, he wanted you to count the slaps, but your brain was in shambles 

SLAP.

“One” He repeated, “You better start counting or they’ll be a lot more than eighteen…”

SMACK.

“One…”

“FINE!” You yelled, finally finding your voice, “Fine, I’ll count them you sick bastard! That’s three!”

“I should make them twenty just for that" 

"Fuck you!”

SLAP.

The sound that left your throat when his open palm struck just between your legs was not one of pain. You cursed under your breath, there was no way he could have missed that moan.

“What was that, princess?”

“F-four”

He chuckled, and you felt him get off of you. But with your wrists still in his grasp, there wasn’t much you could do, he had super strength after all. You were quite literally at his mercy. 

The thought should not have been so hot.

“I was actually talking about this” He traced his fingertips over your lace covered slit, tearing another moan from your lips. “Such a pretty sound” He hummed, approvingly, “I want more…”

He used his thumb to tug your underwear to the side, dipping one long, talented finger into you. It slid inside easily, so easily… it was embarrassing how wet, how ready for it you were. Peter wanted nothing more than to sink himself in your cunt, to get lost into your tight, pink, velvety soft insides. But where was the lesson in that? What kind of message would he be sending you if he too failed to deliver the promised punishment? Fourteen slaps, that was all. Fourteen more hits and then he could have you. This was for your own good.

He took his finger out. 

SMACK.

“Fi-ve” You whimpered. That one had really hurt. His hand came down against your other cheek just as hard. 

“Six”

Another one, and his finger was back inside your pussy, this time with a companion, pumping in and out, making it difficult to speak, but you managed to stutter a breathy “Seven”

It wasn’t until the next slap hit the soft flesh where your your thigh met the curve of your ass with his fingers still thrusting into you that you realized he had released your hands. But by then you were a moaning, wanting mess on the counter, a willing accomplice more than a prisoner, dutifully keeping count,

“Eight”

Slaps nine and ten came with him three fingers deep in your heat, pinky sloppily rubbing circles on your clit. You were close, just one more thrust, one more slap, one more dirty word in your ear and you would be coming. How stupid of you to believe he was actually going to let you.

“Noooo” You couldn’t help the pathetic whine that left your mouth when his fingers left you, your walls clenching pitifully around nothing. Your own hand went for your mound, desperate for release, but he caught it, pinning it to your back again. 

“I don’t think so, little girl,” He chastised you, “your punishment isn’t over yet…”

You had eight more slaps left. You could do it, you could take it.

…Couldn’t you?

He let go of your wrist and you felt him shift behind you. A moment passed, then another one. You had started to turn to see where he had gone when you felt it: the soft caress of cold lips against your burning backside. 

“Is this better, baby girl?” He inquired, placing glacial kisses and licks on the reddened, sore skin. “You like this?”

“Yes…" 

"Yes, what?" 

"Yes… sir?”

SLAP.

“Eleven. Yes, dom?”

SLAP.

“YES, DADDY!”

Peter froze. He was actually going for ‘master’. Mister Stark, Tony, he was your father. But more than that, you were his daughter, his precious baby. Asking to be called that while he fucked you would the lowest betrayal, Peter knew that. It would be defiling that title forever, making you think of Peter and the filthy things he did to you whenever you called your dad by it. It was wrong. It was perverted. 

And Peter wanted it. 

More than food, more than water, more than oxygen, he wanted it, he wanted you for himself, with a hunger, with a greed that scared even him. He. Wanted. You.

And he was going to have you. He licked a long stripe up your pussy. Cold, so cold it made you shiver. 

“Say it again, baby girl" 

"Daddy”

“Again” his order was muffled, face buried against your cunt, devouring you. 

“Daddy!" 

SLAP.

He placed another ice cube on his mouth, only to push it into your cunt making you scream, tongue fucking you with superhuman skill. The contrasting temperatures of the ice and his mouth against your molten insides were too much. You were sobbing, shameless and desperate, bucking your hips back against his face, the familiar tension building up, and up. Your toes already starting to curl… and then he was gone. 

"Yellow!” You cried. Peter was on you in an instant, turning you around and helping you stand, pushing your hair away from your face.

“Baby, are you ok? What is it?” His voice was worried, breaking character. 

“O-orgasm denial” You gasped, “wasn’t part of the deal…" 

"Shit! You’re right, I’m sorry baby, I’m so so sorry!”

Peter looked about ready to cry, so you hurried to reassure him,

“Pete, it’s ok, I’m not safewording…yet" 

He nodded his understanding, but still looked uncertain. You kissed him, sweet and soothing, but soon that absurdly talented tongue of his slipped inside your mouth, deepening the kiss, turning it into something heady, slow and dirty. You melted into it. 

A ripping sound resonated in the quiet kitchen, and you felt your dress fell off your body. Stunned, you broke the kiss, to look at the remains of your favorite garment now lying lifeless on the dark mahogany floor, and then at the smug, smirking face of your boyfriend. 

"It was in my way”

And just like that, he was all dom again, towering over you, still fully dressed while you stood, vulnerable, in just your hills and a, ruined, lacy tong, made almost completely sheer by your juices, glistening between your legs. 

He let one of his fingers dip under the lace.

“Wanna come, little girl?”

“Yes” You breathed out.

He hummed, fingertip finding your clit,

“And if I let you come,” He started the delicious, quick circular motions that he knew drove you insane, “will you be a good girl? Do as you’re told?”

You considered lying to please him, pretending to be the perfect little sub for him, but that wasn’t really you, was it? You looked him dead in the eyes, and opened your mouth.

“No”

Something snapped behind his eyes, and he growled, deep in his chest, fisting your hair, forcing your head back, bending you over backwards on the kitchen island, as his other hand made quick work of his zipper and belt.

“This what you wanted, little girl?” He entered you, hard and fast and deep, tearing a scream out of your throat, railing you into the marble, “Daddy fucking your pussy like this?”

“Yes!”

“You like taking it like this? Pretty little pussy stretched around daddy’s cock?”

“Yes!! Yes daddy, just like this!" 

He was fucking into you with such force that you slid over the cold marble with each thrust of his hips, but there was nothing for you to brace yourself on. He grabbed your thighs, hooking your knees over his elbows to keep you in place and open you wider for him, going deeper, owning places inside your pussy you didn’t know existed. The edge of the counter was biting into his thighs but he couldn’t care, not with your walls spasming around his cock, squeezing him so good that his eyes rolled back inside his skull. You were crying, little whimpers of ‘Daddy, daddy!’ and it was so blasphemous, so unholy, it made Peter’s blood boil with it, lighting running through his veins, pleasure exploding in every single nerve ending of his body, cause you were his, his and no one else’s, his claim overriding every previous one made on you. It was too much, he exploded inside you, filling you up until you were overflowing with it, the pearlescent liquid dripping down his thigh. 

And he still couldn’t stop. Like a man possessed, he kept going. And you kept on taking it. 

…

"Are you ok?”

“I should be the one asking that…”

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, staring back at you with genuine concern. Sometime during your fucking, you had managed to disvest him of his clothes and now he was as naked as you, lying on the massive couch, sated and spent, with you tucked on his chest.

“Pete, this whole thing was my idea” You reminded him, gesturing vaguely around you. The whole apartment was a mess: paintings fallen from the walls, torn clothes littering the hardwood floor, a broken coffee table… but the kitchen had taken the most damage, where Peter had managed to crack the marble on the kitchen island, and thrown away glasses and even a couple appliances in his haste for getting you on it. There even was a puddle of cold water, from where he had knocked over the glass of ice cubes he had used to tease you.

He frowned, 

“I seem to recall it was mine…”

“You said you wanted to take control” You placed a soothing kiss right above his heart, to let him know everything was alright, “I was the one who wanted the spanking. And the roleplaying. And the hair pulling…”

Peter’s smile grew bigger and bigger with every item you named. He loved it, loved that you trusted him enough to ask exactly what you wanted, loved feeling so comfortable with you as to explore everything he had been too scared to do before. He loved that with you, he was free, there was no fear of judgment, he could let go, cause he knew you wouldn’t let him fall. He loved you. 

And it was so natural, so easy as your conversations were, even before the blip, when you were four years older than him, so beautiful and unreacheable. As stealing a kiss that first night had been. He would have never thought something good could come out of Thanos, of the blip, of losing his arm and almost losing his life. But you had come visit him on his hospital bed right after the surgery, eyes full of tears and he had made a joke about every great Jedi losing his arm, and you had laughed. 

And then you had sobered up, an impossible emotion behind your eyes. Impossible, because he had only ever seen it directed at him in his wildest dreams.

“Ani, you’ve changed so much!” You had quoted.

“You haven’t changed a bit” he had replied without skipping a beat, “You’re exactly the way I remember you in my dreams”

And then he was kissing you, just like he was kissing you now, good hand on your cheek, biorobotic one slowly raising to tangle in your hair. 

“The ice play was my idea” He commented, breaking the kiss. You threw your head back, laughing.

“And a very good one at that” You approved.

“The daddy kink was a surprise…”

Your laugh died. Suddenly embarrassed, you hid your face on his chest.

“You know I’m not-… that I don’t really want to… sleep with my dad, right?”

Even with his super hearing, it was difficult to decipher your mumbling.

“What? No- I mean yes!” He stammered, “Of course I know that, babe! And you know I don’t want to… like… be him or anything…" 

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes.

"But it was kinda hot”

“Babe, it was all manners of hot” Peter confirmed, making you smile. 

“You still owe me five slaps, tho”

He groaned,

“I do, I totally forgot! God, I’m such a bad dom!”

“Of course not! You’re the hottest dom I’ve ever seen!" 

Peter snorted,

"I’m the only dom you’ve ever seen…”

“I saw Fifty Shades of Grey once…” You argued, making him laugh harder.

“Ok, ok, you win, even I am a better dom than that" 

"The edging…”

“Yeah, sorry 'bout that…”

“No no, I was actually thinking…” You felt your cheeks grow hot under his gaze. Peter was trying to appear nonchalant, but you could see the glimmer of lust in his eyes, evidently it was a serious turn on for him. “We could explore it more next time…”

His face lit up,

“Really? Thank you babe!” He caught your mouth in a heated, earnest kiss, “You won’t regret it, I’ll make so good for you…” he promised against your lips, making you moan in anticipation.

“Maybe I’ll even spare you those slaps I owe you…”

Peter didn’t miss the way your kiss falter at that, or the spark of defiance in your mischievous eyes.

“Maybe” You replied, noncommittal, releasing his lips to nibble at his jaw. He could practically see the wheels already turning in your head, planning ways to test his patience, pushing the limits just enough to guarantee a reaction, to earn yourself a new punishment. You were such a brat. 

His spoiled, gorgeous brat. 

[boiolay]

Paper Scribbles | Mark Lee

summary: the one mail that made him wish he did things differently | childhood bestfriends!au + idol!Mark

genre: fluff; angst 

warnings: swearing 

word count: 6K

"Mark! You've got mail." 

It was already past midnight when they arrived at the dorm. After working the whole day on the choreography for the comeback, the only thing the boys wanted was to go to bed and sleep for as long as they could. Mark especially. He had been drained out of energy for being involved in so many activities, differents unities, choreographies, composing… He felt like his days had less hours than his members’ so everything else than work, at that moment could wait. 

"Just leave it over the table. I'll take a look tomorrow." He mumbled rubbing his eyes as walked to his bedroom.

"I think you should take a look. It's from Canada." 

He stopped as soon as he heard his home country. It wasn't unusual for him to receive mail from his parents, but they would always tell him they were sending something. He frowned trying to remember if his mother had said something and was almost sure she didn't, but he still turned around walking back to Taeyong letting his curiosity take over him.

"Thanks, hyung." 

"Don't take too long, Markie." 

Mark nodded taking the brown envelope from his hands before the older walked away. Plopping down on the couch, he twirled it around searching for the sender's address. He didn't have a clue where that was, it was definitely from Canada, but the place written on the paper didn't ring any bells from who it could be. 

Until he found your name. 

He widened his eyes and held his breath as he read the name printed on the paper a few more times checking if he wasn't just imagining. It had been years since he last heard of you. And seeing your name written by a handwriting that wasn't his was making his heart do things that he didn’t know it could do again. 

During all those years he hasn't heard of you. But you were in every little thing that surrounded him. You were on his reflection in the mirror every time he saw the little scar under his chin from when the two of you were trying to learn how to skate. You were in the black socks that he wore because you always told him the white ones were lame. You were in the stars in the sky that you used to stare as you laid on the grass from his backyard on a weekday when you were supposed to be studying. And especially, you were in the lyrics of every song he wrote. 

Seeing it, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder back to the days when you were his partner in crime. When everyone in the neighborhood knew that when one of you were seen alone you were planning something. When his parents knew that if he wasn't on his bedroom at a friday night, he would be at yours. When he thought you were gonna be forever. 

It was probably a summer morning when you met. It has been so long that neither of you remembered, and it didn't actually matter. The two of you only knew that you meet in a playground, you weren't even three yet, Mark was feeling too shy to join the other kids on the sand box, so you walked up to him and offered your favorite cookie, asking him to be your friend. Your mother once told him you wouldn't share it with anyone but him. Well, he took a bite from it and threw it on the floor. It made you cry, but as soon as he saw tears rolling down your cheeks, he felt bad and hugged you. That was when your friendship started, and little did you know that you would never leave each other's side. At least until you were fifteen. 

You were together in every memory he had from his childhood. When you started preschool, your teachers instantly fell in love with the two of you. On your first day, you came hand in hand. He had a red cap that was almost big enough to cover his eyes and you had your pigtails bouncing as you made your way to the class. You had the biggest grins on your lips, you were the only kids in the whole class that didn’t throw a tantrum to leave their parents, after all, you had each other. There was no way your teachers wouldn't fall in love at the sight of you comforting the other children. They only found out that the duo meant trouble when, a week later, in art class, you would replace your canvas with each other's faces. At the time that idea of having pink all over your face sounded just right. It would match your dress! 

Another episode that warned what was yet to come was when you were caught trying to sneak your pet rabbit into the school trip. Mark helped you to put it on his bag so you could bring it to meet it's cousins at the zoo. Your plan failed when Mark opened his backpack to put his lunch on it on your way to the school and the rabbit jumped out. Your moms had to hold back their laughters as they tried to scold both of you. 

You wouldn’t stay away from each other even when you were grounded. Whenever your parents tried to punish you for misbehavior or something, you always found a way to be with each other. Once he was grounded because he was caught eating candy in the middle of the night, and that made his parents not let him leave the house in the following day. In the next morning, they woke up to Mark laying on his belly on the entrance hall happily kicking his legs with the door wide open. As his dad walked further to investigate what was going on, he saw you on the porch in the same position as the two of you drew and talked. Mr. Lee just shook his head grinning before inviting you to breakfast. Mark didn't disobey his parents, after all he didn't leave his house.

Mark was really found of all those memories, even though some were told by his parents and others he remembered vaguely, he treasured every moment he had with you.  As he grew up, his memories became gradually more defined so as he could remember the details of them, they also became more meaningful to him.

He was able to remember, for example, you giving him a bouquet of red flowers and wearing a dress of the same colour the night he played the flute on his band for the first time, he had felt so happy to have you clapping excitedly at his performance. Or even when you spent the whole night helping him finish his biology project that was due the next morning even though you had an english test the same day. Of course he didn’t know that, otherwise he would have never asked for your help, but when a friend in common told him that, he remembered feeling guilty and selfish. So he bought your favorite ice cream with his lunch money and stood in front of your class waiting for you to leave, ready to comfort and apologize to you. For his surprise, you came out smiling. 

“Didn’t you fail?” You laughed throwing your head back before reaching to take the cup out of his hands and linking your arm with his. 

“You think too low of me, Mark Lee.” He sighed relieved smiling while you made your way back home chatting. Little did he know that you, in fact, failed, but seeing him waiting for you made it feel like nothing. 

One memory that repeated itself every year, but became more clear in his mind as he grew up was when the two of you would run between the sprinklers of your front yard in the summer, laughing and purposely getting wet to cope with the hot weather. These were his favorite memories. It was something that first happened when the two of you were still little and your parents were too distracted with the barbecue party to notice you sneaking out. When they did, you were in the middle of the lawn giggling and running away from the water jets with your chubby feet. Mark recaled the same scene a few years later, the two of you just a little older with the same happy smiles on your lips. This time, you were being chased by your siblings and were big enough to know how to use a water gun. The last time it happened, always brought a grin to Mark’s lips, all the details were clear as day. 

He ran after you with the smile he always had whenever you were around, you also ran, but away from him. You screamed for him to leave you alone, but the laugher that would come out of your mouth every time he came close to catch you told him you didn't actually mean any of that. 

“I’m serious, Mark! I don’t want to get wetter than I am!” You shouted at him as you faced each other from opposite sides of the sprinkles, you laughed at him resting your hands on your knees. You two were panting from all the running, but you couldn’t be happier. 

“Too bad you will, loser.” He smirked at you and jumped through the jets to get to you. A surprised yelp left your lips, but you reached to take the hose that was just behind you and splashed it on his face. He coughed surprised when the water hit his eyes and you turned it off as soon as you heard him, your eyes widened and your mouth agape as you watched him recover from your sudden attack. As Mark rubbed his eyes, you walked closer to him trying to hold back your laughter with the hose still in hands. You touched his back that was turned to you and caressed it softly talking with the sweetest voice, knowing he couldn’t get mad to you when you did that. 

“Oi, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to-” At that moment, he turned around and jumped on top of you making you fall on the ground. You wiggled under him to try to pull him away, but he held your wrist pinning you down so you couldn’t move. He smirked taking the hose from you and splashing all over you, finally getting his revenge. 

“You son of a bitch!” “Yah! Don’t curse my mother!” 

He laughed as stared at you pouting with your red cheeks and your hair all wet spread on the grass. He couldn’t think of a moment when you looked more beautiful. 

“I’m sorry. I forgot it’s not your mother’s fault you are an idiot.” You flashed him a teasing grin that in just a few seconds turned into a genuine smile. You stared at his sparkling eyes and soft smile that always made your heart skip a beat. His hair was all messy and wet and you couldn’t help, but run your fingers through his strands. He closed his eyes enjoying your sweet touch leaning his head closer to you. 

“Yeah, but you still love this idiot.” He whispered and when opened his eyes to stare back at you lovingly, you grinned leaning up to rub your lips against his and whispered before kissing him slowly and tenderly.

“Well, you are not wrong.”

Besides the good memories you shared, you have always been there for each other, in the good and bad moments. Like when he broke his arm and you did all his homework for three weeks, or when your grandmother passed away and he was there to wipe all your tears. But like in every friendship, you did have a lot of fights, mostly petty ones.

Once you tried to cut your own fringe and ended with just a tuft of hair on the top of your forehead, when he saw it he laughed so hard he felt on the floor out of breath. You gave him the cold shoulder for the next two days. That was until, after your soccer practice, you forgot you were supposed to be mad at him and stormed into his bedroom with your cap still on talking happily about the goals you’ve made. He looked at you puzzled as you laid beside him on the bed, you frowned at his confused face, but soon remembered you were not talking to him. And when you were about to stand up to leave, you saw him smirk and point his chin to your head. 

“Nice cap.” You punched him on the arm, but couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“Shut up.”

Another one was when you gave him spoilers of the new Spider-Man movie. He knew it wasn’t your intention, but he so wanted to see for himself that when you told him about the ending scene he ignored you for a whole day. He only accepted your apologies when you said you would go see the movie with him and would pay for the popcorn. In a minute it was all forgotten.

You were fourteen when you confessed. Neither of you knew when the romantic feelings towards the other appeared. They were just there, hidden, until it bloomed like a flower in the spring, always ready to pop up just waiting for the right moment. It didn’t surprised him tho. It had always been you, just the two of you. Maybe it sprang up was when you held him a little tighter than the other times when he came home from a trip with his family. 

It had been over a month since he had gone to the middle of nowhere, you didn’t talk during that time because he had no access to internet. Of course he missed you, you were everyday with him, how wouldn’t he? What he didn’t expected was that when you came running to him, just a few minutes after they parked the car in the garage, his heart would go on loops. He saw you coming his way with the brightest smile on your lips, your yellow flowered summer dress floating around you and your hair fluttering, for some reason he froze on his spot as watched you come. 

Has she always been that beautiful? 

He only came back to his senses when your body hit on his almost knocking him down on the ground. He automatically wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly against him not wanting to let you go and hoping you wouldn’t hear the drums inside his chest. When you pulled away, too soon, he stared at you with shining big eyes and you smiled shyly under his gaze. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.”

“You grew taller.” It was only then that he noticed he had to look down to talk to you now. He just nodded, lost of words, as you kept looking at the changes on the other. You stayed like that, secretly admiring each other’s features until his brother cleared his throat beside you.

“Are the lovebirds gonna help or we’ll have to wait until the wedding?” He was used to people teasing you like that, but you would always shrug it off or roll your eyes. However, this time it felt different. He saw you blush and mumble saying that you would help his mother before walking inside the house, he felt his ears burn and widened his eyes at his brother making the older laugh. 

Or maybe it was when he said 'i love you' after you gave him a bowl full of watermelon on one of your movie nights. You would always tell each other that, but that time it had a different meaning. It didn't held the same teasing tone as before. He had said it with so much tenderness and had the softest look on his eyes. It was such a usual moment, the two of you just chilling in the living room, you wearing his hoodie even being summer. You have said it was a bit chilly outside, but later he would find out that you liked to be surrounded by his scent. 

It just felt right to say at that moment. And he did it.

You just smiled extending him the bowl, ready to say it back like everytime you did something to him. But when you looked down at him he saw you freeze for a moment as you stared deeply in each other’s eyes. The same words you would always tell the other felt completely different now. And you could tell which that meaning was by his eyes that shined and overflowed with affection, admiration and love. When you smiled shyly with your cheeks tinted bright red and sat beside him, closer than you would before, he knew you were alright. 

"I love you too, Mark."

And it was just like that. You confessed to each other in the most intimate, yet innocent way it could have happened. And you knew. There was no need for other words. You reached over to lay your hand between the two of you and he gently placed his own on top of yours with a smile on his lips and his heart beating wild. He looked at you with the corner of his eyes and saw the most beautiful smile on your face as he laced your fingers together.

Not long after that you shared your first kiss. You guys were too shy and flushed to do it before, but just like the rest of your relationship, it just happened. 

He was walking you home after your first official date, or, after going for some ice cream. It was like before, but now he could hold your hand whenever he felt like. When you got to your front door, he reluctantly let go of your hand and pressed his lips together standing in front of you. He shifted his weight from one side to the other and saw you playing with your feet as looked everywhere but him. You both felt what was about to happen. Mark was nervous and he knew you also were, after all, neither of you had any experience in anything that was happening.

He cleared his throat softly and wiggled his body back and forth moving his gaze to you. 

“So… I’ll come tomorrow. And we can go to the pool or try that muffin recipe you found…?” “Cool. That’s cool for me.” 

“Cool.” When you raised your head to look at him, he chuckled softly noticing you had a little bit of ice cream on your chin. How cliché, he thought. 

“You complain that I’m a messy eater, but look at you.” With a warm smile, he stepped forward and held your jaw with one hand while the other gently rubbed the stain out of your skin. Your faces were closer than they have ever been. Mark saw the blush on your cheeks, but didn’t say anything as he felt the blood flood his. He stared at your wide shining eyes and you both couldn’t held back a smile. All the anxiousness from before completely dissipating as you drowned on each other’s eyes, he suddenly felt at peace. Feeling your breath against his skin, he closed his eyes. The only thing he remembered after that was his lips on yours.

It was... weird, but good weird. It was wet, there was too much tongue, teeth meeting more than it should. It wasn't his fault, neither yours, that’s just how everyone’s first kisses are. But yours felt just right. The way he held you tightly, like he was holding the world on his hands. The way he caressed your face tenderly. The way you held his hair, gently pulling him closer to you. The way you smiled against each other’s lips and giggled. The way your heartbeats synchronized into one. 

After you pulled away, eyes still closed, you just stood there with your arms around each other and beaming smiles on your faces. When Mark opened his eyes, he met yours, you have never seen his eyes shining so bright like that. You exchanged your goodbyes and he hugged you one last time pressing a sweet kiss on your forehead before crossing the street.  He was on cloud nine and so were you. 

Nobody was surprised when they found out you were dating. In fact, almost everyone you knew seemed to have made a bet on when the two of you would get together. Mark realized that when saw his brother giving yours twenty dollars, he had bet that Mark would only grow some balls to ask you out after you started dating someone else and your brother had bet that he would be your first kiss. Said and done. 

Your parents were thrilled when you told the. Although all of them knew you were eventually end up dating, your father was hoping it would take a little more time, but that didn't stop him from inviting Mark over just to ‘hang out’ as he used to say, even when you were busy. He told Mark that he felt like his second son and couldn't’ have wished for someone else to be with his little girl. He really enjoyed spending time with your father too, he felt like he belonged to the family even more. The only one that wasn't very keen of the two of them together was you, he would always laugh when you argued with your dad saying that Mark was your boyfriend, not his. 

Besides that, our relationship was much like any other. You had dates everyday, they wouldn’t always be going to amusement parks or to the cinema, most of them were the two of you sitting down while Mark played his guitar, or doing your homework in silence enjoying each other’s presence. The time you would spend just the two of you immersed in your own world was his favorite type of date.

One that he treasured was when the two of you had just finished your exams in school, he knew how stressed you were so he decided that you had to chill out a bit. He took two of the biggest blankets he could find and as much pillows as he could carry and ran across the street with his hands full. Since he basically lived in your house he didn't bother ringing the bell, he walked to your backyard and settled the things down on the grass and sent you a text that said “ i’m by the pool. bring doritos.” 

He watched as the lights of your bedroom were turned off and smiled to himself as he laid down on top of the pillows. When you came to meet him, you had a side smile on your lips and were already in your pajamas. 

“What is this?” He grinned brightly and reached for your hand, that you gladly held, pulling you down to lay beside him.

“This is me making you stop overthinking your grades.” You rolled your eyes playfully, but followed his lead and snuggled him under the blanket. 

You talked for hours. About the most silly things, your deepest desires and fears, you were each other’s safe place. At one point of the night, he was talking about whatever while staring at the stars, but you had found a much more interesting sight. You were on your side facing Mark and had your head rested on your hand, you couldn't help a smile as you stared at his profile. You couldn’t tell, but Mark saw your eyes roam every feature of his face, his almost defined apple cheeks, his pink pretty lips, his little nose… 

“Are you even listening to me?” He giggled when turned to face you and meet your mesmerized eyes. You shook your head lightly before smirking softly.

“I was not. It’s not my fault you distract me.” He laughed throwing his head back and clapping his hands as he felt a little blush creeping on his cheeks, but he moved to lay on his side to face you. You reached a hand and touch his face caressing every part you had been staring, rubbing his cheek, bopping his nose, what made he giggle more, contouring his lips with your thumb, but when you locked eyes he heard a sight leave your lips.

"I love your eyes, you know..." You blurted out. "I mean, I love all of you, but your eyes... They have a special place in my heart." You chuckled and stopped your hand on his apple cheek caressing it gently. He grinned widely and reached to hold your hand intertwining your fingers. 

"Is that so? Why?" 

"They sparkle. I feel like i can see your soul looking at them. They shine. Just like your soul, Mark. And you have such a beautiful one, baby.”

Those words stuck to him until now and whenever someone complimented his eyes he thought of you.

One thing he was grateful for was how much support you gave him. You were always there for him, supporting him no matter what, hyping him when he was feeling down and doing your best to make him happy. It was even you who he told first about the SM audition that was going to happen. You quickly ran to his house to make sure he had typed his informations correctly in the enrollment paper. He was still uncertain if he should try, he was very insecure of his abilities and just the thought of leaving for the other side of the world made his heart ache, but he just let you think that his hesitations were because of his insecurities. 

“Mark! You are amazing. I've already told you this a thousand times! There's nothing to worry about. You are so talented... They are gonna love you. And if they don’t, first their loss. Second, this is just a try out, it’s just the beginning, love. Your life won’t end because you failed one audition. Okay? Have some faith in yourself!” 

You skipped school to go with him to the audition. His brother offered to drive Mark so you could join since his parents would have asked if yours had allowed you to come, the answer would have been  no. During the whole ride to the city center, Mark had his legs shaking frenectly. You tried to sooth him by holding his hand and caressing the back of it, but he was too nervous, not even your touches could make him calm down. 

Once his brother parked the car he felt his heart stop. Mark was so tense that he didn't remember much of what happened after that. He knew his brother had talked the whole time you were waiting, making jokes to try to make him laugh and you hadn’t let go of his hand even for one second. He was glad you were there to reassure him even if it was just by squeezing his hand. 

At some point he was told by the staff that he had to go alone from there. He sighed deeply and nodded at his brother and you, if he wasn't so terrified the would have laughed, it looked like you were the one auditioning. You let go of his hand and offered him a smile, he turned around to walk inside, but after a few steps he felt your hand on his arm, meeting your gently eyes when he turned back. 

“Hey. Before you get in. I just want to say how proud I am of you. I can't put in words how amazing and talented you are. Just trust in yourself, Mark. You are gonna shine more than the brightest star in the sky. And i'll always stand by your side no matter what happens.” You winked and gave him your brightest smile. “Now go get them.” 

That was all what he needed to regain his confidence. 

The results came a week later. 

When he told you the news you screamed and laughed like never before, hugging him so tight that he had to ask you to loose it a bit. You had told him how happy and proud you were of him and gave him a little lecture about how he should trust himself more, but soon was kissing all over his face again. Before you left to go home, he thought he had seen a different shade on your eyes, but he shrugged it off at that time.

The time he had to say his goodbyes and pack was way too short. He tried to stay as much as he could with you, but he had a ton of things to do before leaving to Korea it made hard for you to have some time alone. He was feeling bad because he felt like he wasn’t giving the attention you deserved, but you reasured him that it was alright, that you understood why that was happening and that you would be with him even if he just had two minutes to talk to you.

On the day before he would go to Korea he took to spend it only with you, he took you to a walk on the park, bought you your favorite ice cream, took you to the little playground where you met and didn't let go of your hand. It didn't even feel like he was leaving, he was so happy to be able to make you laugh and look at your bright eyes that he forgot why he was doing that. 

He only remembered it later that day when he heard you on the sleepover you were having at his house. Neither of you were supposed to sleep, so you could spend more time together, but he closed his eyes and felt asleep. He woke up a few minutes later when heard the bathroom door close followed by your quiet sobbs. He realized how difficult it was for you to let him go. He knew you were happy for him, but he could understand what you were going through. Having your best friend in life that it’s also your boyfriend to move to the other side of the world while you had no choice, but sit back and watch, it breaks anyone's heart. He didn't think he could be so selfless if he was in your shoes. All the times when he thought about becoming an artist he saw you by his side,  but he realized that you always somehow knew that wouldn't be possible, that you couldn’t be part of that. Even so, you were there supporting him, wanting him to pursue his dreams, to be happy, even if that meant that you would have to let him go. 

Just by hearing your shaky breath he could tell you were trying to control your emotions, but every time you would inspire, a loud sobb would come out from your chest. It was too painful hearing you break like that. He barged in the bathroom what made you quickly try to put a smile on your face and hide your sadness, but failed. He just pulled you into his chest and buried his face on your neck letting his own tears flow down his cheeks while you resumed crying, this time on his arms. Once you were calmer, he brought you to the couch where you hugged each other for the whole night while he caressed your hair and whispered on your ear sweet nothings and promises that he didn’t know he could keep. 

You didn't come to the airport with him in the next day. You had told him that you prefered to say your goodbye on your street when you could pretend he was just going on a trip. He had laughed, but felt his heart ache. When the time came, you tried not to look at him, he knew you didn't want him to see you cry again, he knew you wanted to be strong for him, but he held your face to make you stare at him, he wanted to look into your eyes since he didn't know the next time he would be able to do it.

You didn't need to say a lot of words to make him understand everything you wanted to tell. He pulled you to a last tight hug staying like that for a few minutes. Eventually, he had to pull away since his parents were telling him they should go. He held your face between his hands, eyes roaming around your features like he was trying to engrave the sight of you on his brain.He let go of you with a nod once he felt tears start to rush to his eyes. As he was about to enter the car, you held his hand catching his attention. You walked to be in front of him and leaned up to press your lips gently against him. 

“I’m really proud of you. And I love you.” 

And then he left to Korea to chase his dreams, leaving the love of his life behind.

All those memories, those intense moments brought a sad smile to his lips and made tears well up on his eyes. He sighed deeply rubbing his hands on his face and trying to put himself back together after those old feelings that had come intensely over him all at once. Even after so long you had the same effect on Mark as before. 

Yes, of course he dated after you. He fucked around, he was at his peak of popularity, there were girls falling on his feet, he tried to forget you, he tried to find someone with whom he could share his life. But none of them felt right the way you did. He couldn't help comparing them to you and none of them came even close to be as special as you were. Even if his head wanted to let go of you, his heart wouldn't . He couldn't love them the way he loved you. The way he loves you.

Mark stared at the brown envelope on his hands and twirled it one last time before opening with trembling hands. Inside there was another envelope, but this time it was a pretty white paper sealed with a golden wax. He turned around to look at the back and he read his own name written in your elegant handwriting, just like in the notes you would leave around his bedroom or on his notebooks. He smiled fondly and ran his finger over his name feeling warmth spread on his chest. Soon, after letting his thoughts run to you again, he left out a shaking breath before finally breaking the seal and pulling another paper from inside, his heart beating wildly on his chest. 

As soon as his eyes met the first words he froze. His heart sank. Feeling a bitter taste on his mouth he read the golden letters over and over, but couldn't believe. Or didn't want to. He only realized he was crying when some words on the bottom of the paper were becoming blurry. He dropped the papers on his lap and rubbed his eyes trying to get rid of the excess of tears on his eyes. His mind was blank. How could that have happened? How he could have let that happen?

He the papers once again, but this time he noticed something that he didn't have before. 

At the back of the paper, on the top corner written on a red pen that didn’t match the golden letters printed on the paper there was a inscription scrambled on your handwriting. He couldn't help sobbing when he finished reading. It said: 

“My love, i confess, i’m getting married, but the love of my life was and it’s always gonna be you. Yours, ___ .” 

author’s note: so....??? i loved writting this so much, but i cried so hard at the end. I would really really really love to read what you guys thought of it. And if you came until here, thank you so much!!! <3 

[inosukki]

jealous, various characters.

synopsis: how your boyfriend would react to his teammates seeing you in a bikini!

includes: bokuto koutarou, kuroo tetsurou, and semi eita.

bokuto koutarou

two words: emo mode😃

when bokuto invited you to the beach with his teammates, you were hesitant to accept

the only person you knew somewhat personally was akaashi, since you three would hangout all the time

plus, you were basically the polar opposite of bokuto, which meant that you didn’t immediately warm up to people

but he practically begged you to go and how could you say no to that cute face🥺

currently, you were sprawled out on the towel you brought for yourself and bokuto, clad in jean shorts and a t-shirt

you were sweating buckets so you decided to undress, you had a bikini underneath your clothes anyways

and the guys were playing beach volleyball, so it’s not like anyone was gonna notice... right?

well after you’d taken off your top and began to pull your shorts down your thighs, you could hear the entire team making their way over to you (as you all had set up your belongings in the same area)

quickly, you slipped off your shorts and sat criss cross on the towel

“[Y/NNNNN]!” a loud, whining voice called out

without giving you anytime to process, bokuto threw himself on top of you, causing you to fall over

“i’m thirstyyyy” he cried, pressing his face into your neck

your eyes widened at the display of affection, gently pushing him away

“idiot... you’re lucky i brought you a drink.” you teased, handing him the bottle of pocari sweat from your purse

“AHHAHHAHA LOOK!!! MY GIRLFRIEND BROUGHT ME A DRINK! YOU GUYS DON’T HAVE GIRLFRIENDS THAT BRING YOU DRINKS!”

just smile politely y’all. we’re witnessing mental illness❤️

you looked at him like🤨🤨 wondering wtf possessed him to even say that

as he sipped happily on the sports drink, hand snakes around your waist and ranting to akaashi about something you couldn’t quite catch, you observed the rest of his team sitting on their towels and gulping down their own drinks

“aaah, i forgot to bring my water and i don’t have any money...” your ears perked up at the sound of the person’s voice

you scanned the area, eyes falling upon wataru, who was empty handed. you felt bad

should i give him a drink?, you thought, mulling the idea over

it was hot and he had just played beach volleyball (which was much more tiring than regular volleyball) in the scorching sun...

it was as if your feet were moving on their own as you grabbed the bottled drink and moved away from bokuto’s grasp, not stopping until you reached your kouhai

“wataru-kun?” you mumbled quietly

his eyes trailed your exposed skin until reaching yours

you didn’t notice how the tips of his ears began to blush, or how his entire face was red

probably because yours was too... not because of him, but because that’s what happened when you talked to anyone who wasn’t in your immediate circle

you also didn’t notice how he was no longer looking into your eyes, but an area just below them

“eh... i heard you say that you forgot to bring a drink and i had an extra so... here you go!”

you extended your arm, waiting for him to accept it

you waited... and waited... and waited...

“wataru-kun?” you questioned, lowering your hand. god, did you just embarrass yourself?

it wasn’t until another first year (anahori, was it?) slapped the back of his head that he responded

“ah-thank you, [l/n]-senpai!” he blurted, grabbing the drink from your hand

you smiled, happily walking back to your seat

wait, where was bokuto?

you scanned the area to find bokuto a few feet away from his original spot, curled into himself and staring at the ocean

oh god, he was in his emo mode

“eh... akaashi? what happened to bokuto?” you whispered as to not alarm your boyfriend who could probably still here you

“wataru was staring at your chest and he got upset.” he replied in a monotonous tone

“AKAASHI!” you screeched, punching him in the shoulder. “why do you say things so bluntly? i’m going to go see if he’s ok.”

still embarrassed, you unconsciously crossed your arms

as you approached bokuto, you could practically feel the gloomy aura surrounding his form

“bokuto? are you alright?”

“i am a failure.”

HUH😀

“what? what do you mean?”

he turned to look at you, incredibly small and fully white eyes staring into your own

“another man was looking at my girlfriend inappropriately and i did nothing to stop it... i am a failure... you should breakup with me now.”

AHDJSJFKF WHAT KIND OF LOGIC???

“man...? wataru-kun is a first year, bokuto. he’s 15. a child. and i’m sure he didn’t mean to offend me, i didn’t even notice. if he had given me any trouble i could have handled it myself.”

your words fell on deaf ears as bokuto day in silence, resembling the 😞 emoji

you reached your hands to cup his face, but he turned around dramatically

“don’t look at me, this is the face of a loser!”

ok now you were a little annoyed

you forcefully grabbed his face and turned it towards your own with such ferocity that bokuto thought he’d gotten whiplash

“BOKUTO, you’re my boyfriend. my handsome, talented, amazing, boyfriend. you’re one of the top five aces in the country. wataru-kun doesn’t even compare to someone like you. he’s just a boy, go out there and show him what a man is! how scary and powerful his captain is!”

in a flash, the dark and gloomy aura dissapeared and was replaced by bokuto’s usually energetic and friendly air

“HEY HEY HEY, YOU’RE RIGHT. I AM THE BEST! I’M GONNA GO KICK HIS ASS IN YOUR HONOR!”

“bokuto that’s not what i meant—no!—BOKUTO!”

kuroo tetsurou

idk how to write for him lol😹👍

but i’ll try

so background😼 you’re like the unofficial manager of nekoma

you bring everyone protein bars and sports drinks and stay after practice to help pick up stray balls and do other ~managery~ stuff

EVERYONE LOVES YOU

lev calls you mom (he’s secretly your favorite)

yaku listens to you when you tell him to go easy on lev

taketora worships the ground you walk on (simp🙄🙄)

you call kenma your son but he glares at you when you do😹 (😿) big sad

(idk the other characters LOL)

everyone practically begs kuroo to invite you (which he was going to do anyway bc mf loves you duh)

so when he does your just like... um ofc u utter fool

lev had already told you about it when you were helping him practice his spikes so if kuroo didn’t invite you you would have shown up unannounced

but ngl you were lowkey feeling used bc after you accepted he told you that he’d gonna need the keys to your parents’ van bc it was the only car that could fit all of you in it

whatever you’re just happy to be there😋

you sat up in the front while kuroo drove, drumming your fingers against his thigh

“hey kuroo are we there yet”

“[y/n]... just look up what’s the point of asking”

when you guys arrived you and lev ZOOMED towards the beach to see who could make it there first

he won sadly :/

everyone else joined you so you guys began setting up

they were laying their towels on the sand, dropping their bags, and taking off their shirts

kenma kept his shirt on and was just on his switch the entire time

well everyone else was changing so you should too right🤩

you took off you swimsuit cover up and tossed it aside

and just when you did you heard the sound of squelching and a weight fall onto the floor

“TORA?? TORA ARE YOU OK”

tora’s nose was bleeding and he was twitching on the floor

AND NO ONE WAS ACKNOWLEDGING IT... LIKE IS HE OK

when you bent down to check on him his eyes widened, refusing to make eye contact

they were making contact with something else❤️

but he immediately corrected himself and closed his eyes

he might be a simp but he’s not a perv

you looked towards kuroo who was a few feet behind you expecting him to be mad or protective or whatever

but mf was laughing

LAUGHING

“oh god, that’s so pathetic! imagine fainting at the sight of boobs” he was dry heaving, hands on his knees as he doubled over

he didn’t give af🖕🖕 f u kuroo

semi eita

ion know how to write for this mf either

with semi, he hadn’t thought of inviting you to the beach with his teammates

he’d assumed it was team bonding/extra practice after their loss at the hands of karasuno

when in reality it was actually just a day off to have fun and forget about volleyball even if it was just for a few hours

tendou, your best friend, was the one to invite you

“come on, [y/n]! it’ll be fun! you don’t even have to go in the ocean if you don’t want to.”

you rolled your eyes, scoffing at the suggestion

“of course i’m going in the ocean, idiot. i’m not just going to watch you all have fun.”

his mischievous red eyes lit up

“perfect! i’ll pick you up from your dorm on saturday at two. make sure your ready.”

and that was that

tendou had picked you up as promised and the two of you made your way to the beach together

the sun was relentlessly beating down on you two, so by the time you had reached your destination, you were already sweating

“ugh,” you whined in displeasure. “my skin’s already starting to feel hot. i’m just going to change here, ‘kay?”

“good idea” he responded, taking off his shirt

you stripped down to your bikini and stuffed your clothes in your bag, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

a low whistle sounded from tendou

“wow, [y/n]! look at you, semi is going to just eat you up!”

you scoffed, punching him in the stomach. even though you knew he didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, you hated when he teased you. he knew just how to push you buttons.

“i will literally kill you. now lets go meet up with the others, creep.”

he chuckled, but followed you nonetheless.

you smiled as you saw the entire shiratorizawa volleyball team sat in a circle, enjoying a picnic

“hey, you guys started eating without us?” tendou cried, rushing past you to seat himself next to ushijima

“well you’re late, you deserve it.” yamagata uttered, not taking his eyes off of his food

you walked past the team, responding to their greetings with a smile and wave before stopping behind semi, lowering yourself to wrap your arms around him

“hello, eita!” you grinned, pressing a light kiss to his temple

he immediately stiffened against the abrupt touch, softening when he recognized that it was you

“[y/n]? what are you doing here?” he was thoroughly confused, turning his whole body to you

“tendou invited me! why do you not want me here?” you pouted, placing your hands on your thighs

at the suggestion he was immediately reduced to a stuttering mess. his usually stoic attitude was replaced by nervousness and defensiveness

“o-of course not! i just assumed only the team was coming. i’m glad you’re here, promise.”

his seriousness always made you laugh, maybe that’s why you loved teasing him

“i’m just fucking with you, eita.”

his automatic response was: “oh, well then eat shit.”

LMFAOOOO there’s the guy you know and love

you were about to slide in between eita and shirabu when you felt a pair of wandering eyes to your right

shirabu was... checking you out??? HUH

he didn’t even notice you were looking at him because he was looking straight at your thighs

MF EVEN LEANED BACKWARDS TO LOOK AT YOUR BUTT

you weren’t even offended because this was the funniest shit you had witnessed in your life

the kid that your boyfriend hated with his entire being was literally checking you out in front of him

before you could form a sentence that would surely embarrass the setter, you heard your boyfriend screaming and lunging at shirabu

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING YOU DISRESPECTFUL LITTLE SHIT? I’LL KILL YOU!”

“HUH? g-get off me! what are you doing?”

what da fawk😃

you immediately grabbed eita by his arm and pulled him away from the lowerclassmen, a shocked expression adorning your face

he was practically fuming, if you were in a cartoon, steam would’ve been blowing out of his ears by now. his eyes ripped themselves from shirabu’s cowering form and were now focused on you

“you were just letting him look at you! i saw you!”

NOT HIM TRYING TO BLAME THIS ON YOU

“well i was gonna tell him off before you acted like a fucking psycho... which was funny as fuck by the way.”

“it was not funny” he growled, folding his arms over his chest.

“it was too! as much as i enjoyed that, please never do it again. i can take care of myself, okay?”

he rolled his eyes but nodded nonetheless, earning a chaste kiss on the cheek

you thought that was the end of it but he stood up, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you away from his team

“we’re going somewhere private. now.”

time for the vaccum seal two handed twist gawk gawk wombo combo🥵🥵

[a/n]: this was requested and i wasn’t sure if you meant that you wanted random beachgoers to be staring at the reader so i just made a teammates do it hehe <3 WHY DID I MAKE THEM TOXIC AND WHY IS MY WRITING STYLE ALL OVER THE PLACE LMFAOO😹👍