Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

OTP Challenge

1. Out to dinner – Takashi Shirogane (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
2. Dancing – Cat Noir (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
3. Flowers – Shigaraki (trans!male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
4. Windows
5. Photographs - Marshall Lee, Dait
6. Technology
7. Coffee - Overhaul x Shigaraki
8. Sharing
9. Comfy cozy - Todoroki x Bakugo x Midoriya, Lee
10. Furniture shopping
11. Favorite TV show - Tetsuro Kuroo, Alex
12. Drinks - Hawks
13. Friendly competition
14. Boyfriend does my makeup - Keith Kogane, redandgoldgirl
15. Reading – Ben x Harry, Lady_Luly
16. Work day
17. Cooking
18. Build a fort
19. Enjoying nature - Todoroki x Midoriya, AriJordan
20. Just an average day - Keiji Akaashi, Alex
21. Long distance – Hitoshi Shinso (trans!male reader)
22. A mystery
23. Family in town
24. Not according to plan – Matt Jeevas (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
25. Surprise gift
26. Skating
27. Ice cream
28. Fire - James Griffin
29. Getting ready
30. Bedtime - Hitoshi Shinso x Denki Kaminari
31. Aquarium
32. Coffee shop
33. Book shop - Harry Hook
34. Good movie
35. Bad movie - Hawks
36. Drive-in - Fitzo
37. Park
38. Zoo
39. Home with parents
40. Home alone – Kyo Sohma (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
41. Parents
42. School dance – Sweet Pea x Fangs, Multifangirl69
43. Forest - Killian Jones, RubyRose226
44. Night beach – Tamaki x Kyoya, alasdaring
45. Day beach
46. Boardwalk
47. After school
48. Amusement park
49. Concert - Luka Couffaine x Marinette Dupain-Cheng
50. Pizza parlor
51. Magic show
52. Good morning kiss
53. Forehead kiss - Iwaizumi
54. Drunk kiss
55. Awkward kiss - Kei Tsukishima (male!reader)
56. Angry kiss
57. I’m sorry kiss - Katsuki Bakugo
58. I missed you kiss - Harry Hook x Carlos de Vil
59. Seductive kiss – Hatsuharu Sohma (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
60. War’s end kiss
61. Goodbye kiss
62. Spiderman kiss
63. Nose kiss – Tamaki Suoh, athousandwishes1000
64. Ear kiss
65. Neck kiss
66. Back kiss
67. French kiss – Mal x Evie
68. Shy kiss
69. Surprised kiss - Takashi Shirogane x Lance McClain
70. Sad kiss
71. First kiss - Jess Mariano
72. Selfie – Lance McClain (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
73. Sharing a shake - Jughead Jones, anon
74. Grumpy morning
75. Picnic
76. Baking
77. Wedding
78. Umbrella
79. Building
80. 1950s
81. Snapchat
82. Ballroom dance
83. Lazy Sunday
84. Princess and knight
85. Clothing swap
86. Sad – Katsuki Bakugo (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
87. Gaming
88. Pocky game – Keith Kogane (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
89. Fight
90. Water fight
91. Twister – Shoto Todoroki (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
92. NSFW
93. Stargazing – Kaoru Hitachin (male reader), SuicidalConnorMurphy
94. Ugly sweaters – KiriBaku, Cloud
95. Karaoke

Chapter Text

It took me a while to make this list. It's based on ships that I ship and characters that I feel comfortable writing. You're free to request fandoms, ships, and characters not listed, but keep in mind I may not accept them.

Ships

My Hero Academia

Todoroki x Deku

Bakugo x Deku

Bakugo x Todoroki

Todoroki x Deku x Bakugo

Kirishima x Bakugo

Kaminari x Shinso

Dabi x Hawks

Dabi x Shigaraki

Voltron

Keith x Lance

Shiro x Matt

James x Keith

James x Keith x Lance

Adventure Time

Marshall x Gumball

Marceline x Bubblegum

Haikyuu

Tsukishima x Kuroo x Bokuto x Akaashi (and any combination of ships within)

Hinata x Kageyama

Tsukishima x Yamaguchi

Oikawa x Kageyama

Oikawa x Iwaizumi

Helluva Boss

Blitz x Stolas

Blitz x Striker

Blitz x Fizzarolli

Fizzarolli x Asmodeus

Sk8 the Infinity

Reki x Langa

Joe x Cherry

Characters

My Hero Academia

Shoto Todoroki

Katsuki Bakugo

Eijirou Kirishima

Izuku Midoriya

Denki Kaminari

Mina Ashido

Hitoshi Shinso

Tomura Shigaraki

Dabi

Hawks

Shota Aizawa

Voltron

Lotor

Keith Kogane

Lance McClain

Hunk Garrett

Takashi Shirogane

Acxa

Matt Holt

James Griffin

Dangerous Fellows

Eugene

Ethan

Zion

Harry

Adventure Time

Marshall Lee

Marceline

Prince Gumball

Princess Bubblegum

Finn

Fionna

Haikyuu

Kei Tsukishima

Shoyo Hinata

Tobio Kageyama

Ryonusuke Tanaka

Toru Oikawa

Hajime Iwaizumi

Tetsuro Kuroo

Kenma Kozume

Keishin Ukai

Kotaro Bokuto

Keiji Akaashi

Satori Tendou

Rintaro Suna

Atsumu Miya

Osamu Miya

Shinsuke Kita

Helluva Boss

Blitz

Moxxie

Millie

Striker

Fizzarolli

Asmodeus

Loona

Stolas

Verosika

Sk8 the Infinity

Reki Kyan

Langa Hasegawa

Kaoru Sakurayashiki

Kojiro Nanjo

Chapter Text

Ugly Sweaters – Kirishima x Bakugo
Cloud

A/N: First BNHA fic. Let’s go! I apologize if anyone is OOC – I’ve cosplayed and roleplayed the fandom but I haven’t written it.
I also had to make up their back stories cuz, as far as I know, they haven’t discussed how they celebrate Christmas.
Also Bakugo swears. It’s canon. You’ve been warned.

Words: 3,492

    Holiday time was a whirlwind of emotions for the students of U.A. Many of the heroes-in-training rejoiced when December began and the days counted down to Christmas, but there were a select few who weren’t as ecstatic, either due to poor childhood experiences or a simple lack of interest. 
    Todoroki was understandably apathetic as he watched his classmates excitedly decorate the dormitory. The bedrooms were off limits unless individuals wanted to spruce them up, but the kitchen and common area were open for décor. Nearly the entire class had joined together to string up garland, tinsel, and lights. In the corner of the common room stood a large tree, supplied by Aizawa in order to keep his students from employing their quirks to illegally acquire one. 
    “Who the hell puts popcorn on a tree?” Bakugo growled from where he stood in the opposite corner, arms crossed stiffly over his chest. Deku and Uraraka were busy pricking themselves with the needles they used to attempt stringing popcorn, unfazed by the blond’s outburst. He had been complaining since the festivities began around eight that morning. At first, Deku worried that Bakugo would explode the tree, along with all of their decorations. But a hand on his shoulder and a pout on Kirishima’s chiseled face had him clenching his fists, resorting to glares and harsh words that he knew wouldn’t deter his classmates’ excitement. He supposed it didn’t really need to – he’d never admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he felt a warmth spread through his core when he looked around at the rainbow lights strung along the walls. 
    He learned early on to be wary of doorways – the first decoration to be fastened to the common room was the abundance of mistletoe that Mineta had hung in every single doorway, with Kaminari’s assistance. He noticed Todoroki shying away from the plant too, and he smirked to himself. As if anyone would try to touch him or Deku now that they had gone public.
    “Todoroki,” Iida’s voice called over the shrill shrieks of the class as he emerged from a pile of tangled Christmas lights. “You’re not going to participate? This is a class bonding experience!”
    The split-haired boy shook his head. “Thank you, Iida, but I’m fine right here.”
    “Suit yourself,” the class representative replied, turning his attention back to the tree. 
    Bakugo chuckled to himself. “The candy cane isn’t interested in Christmas decorations?”
    Kirishima glanced up from where he was, ironically, placing candy canes on tree branches, watching the exchange. 
    “I never got to celebrate Christmas,” Todoroki shrugged nonchalantly. “I was always training. I prefer watching the festivities.”
    Bakugo followed Todoroki’s gaze to where it was stuck on Deku’s head. “Yeah, I bet you do.”
    His own gaze flicked to Kirishima, catching his garnet eyes across the room. The redhead offered him a toothy grin, and Bakugo ducked his head, pretending he hadn’t been caught and ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks. 
    Unfortunately for him, Todoroki was observant. “Looks like you prefer watching as well.”
    “Shut up, Icyhot!” the blond growled, though it lacked its usual heat. Few could sense the difference in his tone, but Kirishima, who’d been listening in, stifled a grin, able to tell how much Bakugo was holding back. He’d changed during their time together as a class, especially since they’d moved into the dorms and grown closer as friends. 
    “All done!” Mina exclaimed with a triumphant fist in the air. “Now it’s time to draw names for Secret Santa!”
    “Don’t forget about the sweater contest!” Uraraka reminded as the class gathered on various pieces of furniture.
    “Sweater contest?” Todoroki couldn’t help but inquire, shuffling closer to the couches. 
    “Ugly sweaters are a Christmas tradition!” Uraraka beamed. “We all have to wear the ugliest Christmas sweaters we can find, and the winner gets a prize!”
    “Stupid waste of time,” came Bakugo’s grumble from his spot in the corner.
    “You’ll join, won’t you?” Deku pleaded, gazing up at Todoroki with his big, emerald puppy eyes.
    The two-toned boy couldn’t bite back a smile, and he nodded softly. “Of course.”
    “That just leaves you, Bakugo,” Kaminari called with a smirk in his voice. A few of the students still feared angering the blond, but most of them knew that thanks to his extended hang out time with Kirishima, he had learned to calm down and tolerate their antics. 
    Just as the blond opened his mouth to argue, Kirishima bounded over to him, a grin on his lips. 
    “Come on, man!” the redhead insisted. “It’ll be fun! All of us in ugly sweaters, drinking sparkling cider and exchanging gifts. We’re a family, man.”
    Bakugo was hyper-aware of the several sets of eyes watching his every move, gaging his every expression. He didn’t want to crumble in front of his entire class, to let them see him as weak or vulnerable. But even more so, he couldn’t deny the bright red kicked-puppy eyes that Kirishima was boring into his soul.
    “Ugh! Fine!” he roared, earning a cheer from the redhead. Bakugo heard the briefest chuckle emanate from somewhere within the room, and he turned his murderous glare onto his classmates. They all froze in place and shut up, though Deku and Todoroki continued to smirk. They’d gotten used to the blond’s antics by now, and they knew that Kirishima could keep him in line.
    “We can go shopping together,” the spiky-haired boy beamed. “You know, for our sweaters. And for Secret Santa, if we don’t get each other.”
    “Yeah, sure.” Bakugo would be lying if he said his chest didn’t flutter at the idea of spending an entire afternoon with the redhead.
    “Come on!” Mina summoned, eagerly waving the two boys over to the couches. Kirishima responded immediately, using his hand on Bakugo’s shoulder to tug him along. The redhead hopped over the back of the couch, sliding onto a cushion. Bakugo stood behind him, bracing his hands just behind Kirishima’s head. 
    “How does this work?” Todoroki inquired, peering into the bowl of shredded paper that was clasped in Mina’s hands. 
    The pink-haired girl shook the bowl in question. “All of our names are in here. We’ll take turns drawing a name until everyone has one.”
    “You’re not supposed to tell who you got,” Uraraka added. “That’s the ‘secret’ part.”
    “This sounds like fun,” Deku smiled. “Who should go first?”
    “I believe it should be Ashido,” Iida commented. “It was her idea, after all.”
    “Aww, thanks!” Mina giggled. “I think Bakugo should go first, since he was the most reluctant.”
    The blond in question groaned at being forced to participate, but he thrust his hand into the bowl nonetheless. He grasped a shred at the bottom of the pile, withdrawing it and tucking it into the pocket of his sweatpants. 
    “Now, Todoroki!” Mina announced. 
    The scarred boy nodded, simply taking a name from the top of the collection. He read the name while Mina stretched out her arm towards Uraraka. They continued on with the pink-skinned girl passing the bowl to her classmates, with Kirishima taking the final name. The softest blush dusted his cheeks as he read his target.
    Katsuki Bakugo.
    Bakugo pulled his piece of paper from his pocket, finally looking at it. He nearly choked on air.
    Eijirou Kirishima.

    Bakugo exhaled a frustrated sigh for the umpteenth time as he followed Kirishima through the mall, dipping into one store only to exit just a minute later after discovering that the store, like every before it, did not sell ugly sweaters. Kirishima had been confident that they would find the perfect (hopefully matching) sweaters upon entering the mall, but so far, everyone had either sold out or simply refused to sell them.
    “This is fucking stupid,” the blond commented as he and Kirishima opted for taking a break, settling down in the food court.
    The redhead sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Heh, sorry man. I really thought we would have found something by now.”
    Bakugo turned his head to avoid glancing at the apologetic grin that stretched across Kirishima’s mouth. “Whatever.”
    The redhead’s grin dropped into a frown. His enthusiasm faded, and he stared down at his food with disinterest. “We can forget it, Bakugo. We’ll just go home and tell the others we couldn’t find any good sweaters. I know you weren’t really into it, anyway.”
    He wouldn’t admit it, but Kirishima’s dejected tone tugged at Bakugo’s heartstrings. He risked a glance at his friend’s expression, catching sight of his hanging head and soft pout. Stabbing at his food, he shook his head. “What the hell are you talking about, shitty hair? You were stoked about the ugly sweaters and Secret Santa shit. We’re still shopping. We haven’t even looked for presents yet. Do you always give up when shit doesn’t work out?”
    The redhead’s head lifted in shock, his eyes widening at the blond’s response. He’d thoroughly expected Bakugo to agree to call it quits and head home, not to encourage him to keep going. Kirishima smiled, offering a confident nod. “Hell no! Let’s finish eating so we can go present shopping!”
    Bakugo chuckled as the redhead scarfed down his food, as though inhaling as much as he could in a short amount of time would affect their shopping results. Once they had both finished, they tossed their disposable food containers and headed back out into the crowd of people, meandering through the stores in search of legitimate presents and ugly sweaters.

    “Bakugo!” Kirishima screeched, excitement resonating through the store. “Check these out!”
    The blond sauntered up to where the redhead stood before a wall of Christmas themed clothing, telling himself that he didn’t care in the slightest about the way Kirishima’s eyes lit up. He followed his friend’s gaze, grimacing at the sweaters the redhead had found.
    Two headless mannequin torsos were stationed beside each other, donning nearly identical shirts. One was a soft cream color, with what was meant to be garland and Christmas lights printed back and forth across the front. Closer inspection revealed that the Christmas lights adorning the tree were real and illuminated, adding to the “ugly” aspect of the garment. The other sweater was a deep red color, sporting a decorative Christmas tree design. Ornaments were attached haphazardly, made of entirely too real pom-poms and jingle bells.
    “They’re disgusting,” Bakugo sneered.
    Kirishima chuckled. “That’s the point. Which one do you want?”
    While the blond tried to protest wearing one at all, the redhead busied himself with rummaging through the pile of sweaters in search of their sizes. They wore roughly the same size, so he grabbed one of each sweater and headed up to the register.
    “I think you should wear the red one,” Kirishima stated as they left the store, and Bakugo had yet to decide. 
    The blond nodded. “You’re red enough as it is.”
    The fanged student grinned. “Now, onto presents!”

    Christmas morning arrived quickly – too quickly for those who’d waited until the last minute to do their shopping. Class 3-A had gathered in the common room of the dormitory, most wearing pajama pants to accompany their holiday sweaters. A few had donned slippers or festive beanies, and as they entered the room, they each set their gift atop the growing pile beneath the tree.
    Bakugo and Kirishima entered together, gifts in hand and sweaters worn. Bakugo had sweatpants covering his legs, while Kirishima opted to remain in his boxers. They took the two empty cushions on the couch, waiting for the exchange to begin. 
    Mina clapped excitedly. “Alright, everyone’s here! Who wants to go first?”
    Uraraka raised her hand, and they went in a circle afterwards, watching each person open their gift before moving onto the next. Towards the end came Kirishima’s turn, and a noticeable blush settled on his cheeks as he handed a messily wrapped box to the blond beside him. He could hear murmurs of interest echoing through the room, but he tried to focus solely on Bakugo’s reaction, hoping it would be positive.
    The blond was intrigued by the size of the gift – about as big as a shoebox, but noticeably sturdier. He tore through the holiday wrapping paper, tossing it aside and immediately forgetting its existence. The crate inside was black and smooth, the lid embedded with the logo of the fitness shop he and Kirishima had gone into during their shopping trip. His brow furrowed, wondering how he hadn’t noticed that the redhead had purchased such a large object from a store he’d been in.
    “Open it,” the boy beside him murmured, a hint of anxiety in his tone. Bakugo knew, both from Kirishima’s voice and from how well he’d grown to understand him, that he was afraid of the blond hating his gift.
    Bakugo ripped off the lid, allowing his jaw to drop at the contents inside the box. Under normal circumstances, he’d keep his emotions to himself until he was alone in his bedroom. But he was truly surprised by the sight that unraveled on his lap.
    Inside the box was a plethora of exercise goodies, but not useless items like dumbbells or heart rate monitors. Lifting up each and every gift, Bakugo discovered a stainless-steel water bottle, a tube of cinnamon scented lotion, fireproof isotoners, a black beanie with “Ground Zero” stitched across the front in orange, and a pack of fuego Takis. 
    With a smirk on his lips, Bakugo lifted the lotion with one hand and the chips with the other. “They don’t sell either of these at the fitness shop, Shitty Hair.”
    All eyes turned to Kirishima – some confused gazes (Uraraka and Deku), some taunting smirks (Mina and Kaminari). The redhead in question laughed sheepishly, nervously rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.
    “Heh, yeah, I know,” he stuttered out. He desperately tried to avoid the dozens of people awaiting an answer, focusing only on the blond beside him. “I know you need to stay warm for your quirk to be at its best,” he explained slowly, awkwardly, as though he didn’t deserve to know such personal information. “Even with your increased body temperature, it’s hard for you to stay warm in this cold weather. The water bottle is to keep you hydrated. The lotion is for your skin – using your quirk dries it out and then you don’t sweat. The hat and gloves will keep you warm when you go outside. The Takis are just because I know they’re your favorite.”
    “Awww!” Mina squealed, applauding Kirishima’s confidence. The redhead had nearly killed himself stressing over what to gift to Bakugo, and the pink girl was glad he had not only found the perfect present but was able to explain his reasoning behind it.
    Several murmurs of awe and praise rang out through the students, and Kirishima wondered if the attention would send Bakugo into an explosive fit. To his and everyone else’s surprise, the blond allowed a small smile to tug at his lips. He placed all of the items back into the box, cradling it in his lap.
    “Thanks, Shitty Hair,” he managed softly, his garnet eyes catching the other boy’s briefly before his gaze dropped to his hands.
    Kirishima beamed like the rising run. “You’re welcome!”
    “It’s your turn, Kiri!” Mina grinned, gesturing to the present at his feet. No one had received a gift from Bakugo, so that could only mean that it had gone to the redhead.
    Kirishima seemed to realize this as well, and he chewed his lip as he admired the simple silver paper wrapped surprisingly neatly around a rather large object. From the floor, the gift stood roughly four feet high. How could he have not noticed Bakugo purchasing whatever this was? Had Bakugo gone shopping without him after their initial venture? 
    He tore into the paper, letting it fall to the floor as his lips parted to inhale a gasp. Inside the wrapping was a sleek, shiny black leather punching bag. A chain was fixed to the top, and following its links, Kirishima found an entire attached fixture for fastening it to his ceiling. Spinning it around, he found the same fitness emblem etched into the front as was on the cover of Bakugo’s box. 
    “Bakugo… This is too much. I saw this when we went shopping – this is really expensive!” Kirishima gushed, his deep red brows furrowed as he turned his gaze to the blond.
    Bakugo rolled his eyes in response. “Don’t worry about the price, Shitty Hair. Just take it. I know you need a new one.”
    Kirishima’s eyes widened. “What? How?”
    “Last time we studied in your room,” the blond shrugged. “I noticed that you’d nearly torn through it. No big deal.”
    “Studying in Kiri’s room, huh?” Kaminari teased, offering the redhead a wink and a nudge to his shoulder. 
    “It’s not like that, Pikachu,” Bakugo growled, but Kirishima could sense the fondness in his voice.
    “Now that all the presents have been opened,” Mina announced, standing in front of the tree, “it’s time to vote on the ugly sweater contest!”
    Everyone stood, displaying their various levels of bad taste. Kirishima had worn the cream-colored garland sweater while Bakugo got saddled with the Christmas tree on red fleece.
    Unsurprisingly, the winner was Mineta, whose sweater displayed an upside-down snowman sporting a 3D carrot nose that hung perfectly in place with the front of his boxers. Groans sounded through the room at his lack of taste, and their female classmates were collectively disgusted. Kaminari found it amusing, but he was the only one offering approval.

    After the festivities died down and everyone had eaten lunch, they all opted for a movie marathon on the common room. A few students headed back to their rooms instead, and Bakugo internally argued with himself for several minutes before taking a hold of Kirishima’s wrist and dragging him to the floor that housed their rooms. Kaminari caught the redhead’s gaze as he was dragged away, offering his friend a thumbs up. Kirishima simply smiled in confusion, uncertain of Bakugo’s intentions but enjoying the skin-to-skin contact too much to question it.
    The blond tugged the redhead to the former’s room, slamming the door closed as soon as they were inside. He sat on his bed, forcing Kirishima to follow suit. They sat facing one another, though Bakugo’s head was turned away. Kirishima tilted his head in confusion – why had the explosive hero-in-training torn him away from the others just to sit in silence?
    “I really liked my gift,” came a low murmur, and Kirishima almost didn’t hear it. 
    “No one’s ever cared that much,” Bakugo continued, his ruby orbs looking at anything but the boy in front of him. “I’ve always taken care of myself. No one has ever even asked about the side effects or conditions of my damn quirk, much less bought me supplies.”
    The redhead smiled softly, exhaling a breath. This was Bakugo’s method of thanking him. “Don’t worry about it, man. That’s what friends are for.” The “f” word pained him. Hearing it come from his lips sent daggers through his heart. But that was all he and Bakugo were, much to his dismay.
    Furrowing his brow, Bakugo lifted his head, catching Kirishima’s eyes. He shook his head. “It’s more than that. No one gives a shit about me, Kirishima. Except for you. Why is that?”
    Kirishima was taken back, eyes wide as he struggled to respond. “Uh… I…”
    “You’ve always been there,” Bakugo murmured, softly, almost more to himself. “Since our first fucking year, you were the one trying to be my friend. You spent time with me. Studied with me. Trained with me. Why? Why do you care so much?”
    What do I do? the redhead inquired of himself. Do I tell him the truth? Do I spin some lie about being friends?
    “You want the truth, Bakugo?” he managed to ask, his own voice trembling.
    The blond nodded. “Of course, I want the fucking truth.”
    Kirishima inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He hesitantly opened them again, giving his full attention to the boy he’d been crushing on for over two years. “I’m in love with you.”
    It was Bakugo’s turn to be startled. So startled, in fact, that he lurched backwards, falling against his headboard. What was Kirishima talking about? Bakugo had expected some bullshit excuse about friends taking care of each other, or being concerned with his wellbeing. 
    “What?” Bakugo intended it to be loud, but all that came out was a whisper.
    “I’m in love with you,” Kirishima repeated. “It started as a crush in first year, and then… It just grew. I thought it would go away, but we spend so much time together that I just found more reasons to love you.”
    “You fucking idiot,” Bakugo sighed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
    “Honestly?” Kirishima exhaled, chuckling nervously. “I thought for sure you’d blow me up.”
    “That’s not the kind of blowing I had in mind.”
    Kirishima’s cheeks matched his hair, and he swore he must have heard the blond incorrectly. “W-what?”
    “You heard me,” the blond smirked. He leaned forward, pressing closer until Kirishima was lying on his back at the foot of the bed. Bakugo hovered above him, hands stationed on either side of his head.
    “Does that mean…”
    “Yes, dumbass,” Bakugo cut off his question with a roll of his eyes. “I love you too.”
    With newfound confidence, Kirishima gripped the front of Bakugo’s horrid sweater, tugging him down until their lips were close enough to meet. The redhead couldn’t stifle the hum of appreciation that sounded in his throat, wrapping his arms around the blond’s neck. He’d imagined kissing Bakugo (and more) for longer than he cared to track. 
    Bakugo released a noise of his own, somewhere between a moan and a growl, and Kirishima lost all control. He braced a hand on the back of the older boy’s head, deepening the kiss. He confidently slipped a tongue between Bakugo’s lips, swirling it around his mouth and across his teeth. Bakugo bit down none too gently on the muscle, sucking on it, drawing a whimper from Kirishima’s throat. The redhead’s fingers tangled in pale blond hair, tugging just enough to draw another growl-moan from Bakugo.
    Bakugo pulled back, panting as he stared down at the boy beneath him. Beneath him… The idea of all of the things he wanted to do to Kirishima whirled around in his brain, and the reality that he was allowed to almost made him moan. He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the younger boy’s lips before he sat up, pulling Kirishima with him. He leaned back against his pillows, stretching out his left arm in order for the younger boy to cuddle into his side.
    “So…” the redhead murmured awkwardly, his earlier confidence fading as he nuzzled his head into the blond’s chest. “Are we-“
    “We’re boyfriends,” Bakugo stated, tightening his arm around Kirishima’s shoulders.
    “Is that always how you ask people out?” Kirishima teased.
    Bakugo lifted a brow, smirking as he glanced down at the boy in his arms. “Do I fucking need to ask?”
    A soft blush danced on Kirishima’s cheeks. “You haven’t needed to ask since first year. I’ve just been waiting for you to take advantage.”
    Bakugo grinned, tilting his head up and kissing him sweetly. “You’re mine. Officially off fucking limits. Anyone flirts with you, I blast them to Hell.”
    The redhead chuckled, pressing a kiss to Bakugo’s cheeks and relishing the surprised expression that followed. “Sounds good to me, as long as you’re mine too.”
    The blond rolled his eyes, and he most definitely did not grin. “Duh.”

Chapter Text

Home Alone – Kyo Sohma
A/N: Male!reader.
Honestly, that makes it easier, cuz otherwise I’d have to write Kyo constantly turning into a cat, Kyo and the reader having zero contact (where’s the fun in that?), or make up some supernatural reason that Kyo and reader can touch.

Words: 1,339

No one spent personal time with Kyo Sohma. Literally no one. Even Yuki didn’t spend quality time with the ginger, and the two lived in the same house. Kyo enjoyed his solitude. He enjoyed not enduring the company of those that he’d rather kick off of a cliff. He liked being alone.
And then you came along.
You weren’t afraid of his temper, nor were you enamored with his “bad boy” reputation. You chuckled at his explosive antics, but otherwise, you kept to yourself, not fawning over Kyo or Yuki.
When you told your friend that you were planning to ask Kyo to study with you, she looked at you as though you’d sprouted a sparkling unicorn horn. No one approached Kyo Sohma – no one that valued their life, anyway. Yet there you were, padding across the room to where the orange-haired boy sat by himself, gazing out the window and wishing he was anywhere else.
You stood by his desk, a blank expression on your face. He sensed your presence and immediately tensed, hoping his standoffish posture and glowering eyes would frighten you away.
No such luck. You remained on your feet, unwavering, tilting your head curiously. You couldn’t help but imagine pointy, soft, fluffy feline ears perched atop his head, flattened back into his hair as he wished with all of his being for you to bugger off.
“What do you want?” he sneered, and from the corner of your eye you noticed a few girls jumping back as though they’d been burned.
“I’m having trouble with the assignment,” you replied simply, expression unchanged as you looked at him.
“That’s not my problem.”
“No, but you’re doing really well in this class,” you continued, having the audacity to plop down atop his desk, completely invading his personal bubble. “I was hoping you could tutor me.”
“Why the hell would I do that?!” the ginger yelled, and now you had the attention of every student in class. Yuki looked on with a deadpan expression and a sigh, while Tohru was borderline panicking that Kyo was going to body slam you.
“Please?” you tried, tilting your head cutely. “I’ll make you food. What do you like?”
Kyo frowned, glaring daggers into your soul once he realized that you weren’t going away. “I don’t care,” he mumbled, and you could tell from his tone that he was giving in. “Just better not bring any goddamn leeks.”
You beamed, trying and failing to not look smug. “No leeks. Got it. Your house?”
The ginger nodded. “I’ll kick my housemates out. I don’t need them breathing down my neck while we’re trying to study.”
“Sounds great,” you smiled. “See you later.”
With that, you returned to your seat, earning the awe and respect of every one of your classmates.

After school, you headed home to grab whatever leek-less snacks you could find. Not wanting to keep Kyo waiting, you didn’t have time to cook, so you grabbed some leftover rice balls from the fridge and a handful of bags of chips. Stuffing it all into your backpack, you made your way out to the Sohma house. Kyo had scribbled the directions onto your notebook before class had ended, so you held the page before you to ensure you didn’t get lost.
Once you arrived, you knocked lightly on the door. You could hear Kyo shuffling around, stumbling over someone’s mess and cursing as he nearly fell into the door. He opened it, a scowl on his face, and stepped aside to let you in.
“You’re so hospitable,” you teased as you entered, slipping off your shoes.
“Yeah, yeah,” he replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t get lost.”
“Give me some credit,” you chuckled.
Instead of responding, he led you to his bedroom. He padded in, sitting on his bed, where his textbooks already waited. You followed suit, dropping your bag on the floor and sitting beside him.
Without a word, Kyo opened his book, flipping to the chapter that you were currently learning in class. You followed suit, withdrawing your notebook from your backpack to follow along. The ginger handed you his own notes, allowing you to compare them to yours.
“Hungry?” you asked after you finished the tenth question. You lifted your bag, digging through it to find the rice balls and chips. You placed all of the snacks on the bed, allowing Kyo to make his choice. A smirk twitched on your lips as his hand reached for a rice ball, unwrapping it and taking a healthy bite.
“You make these?” he asked around his mouthful.
You offered him a nod. “Yep.”
He hesitated before speaking again. “They’re really good.”
You grinned at the praise before turning your attention back to the homework.
“You seem to understand just fine,” Kyo commented, comparing your work to his own. “What part were you having trouble with?”
A blush danced on your cheeks, and you ducked your head to hide it. “Heh… I wasn’t.”
A pause. “Excuse me?”
You lifted your head to meet his questioning but, surprisingly, not angry gaze. “I understand the homework. I haven’t had a single issue with it. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you and, hopefully, hang out with you.”
Kyo was quiet. Frighteningly quiet. Worried you’d upset him, you began packing up your books, leaving the snacks on the bed, before rising to your feet. Mumbling apologies, you headed for the door, but before you could open it, a hand grasped your wrist. You turned around to see Kyo still on the bed, a firm hold on your hand, his head down and his hair hiding his eyes.
“You don’t gotta leave,” he murmured.
Confused and elated, you shuffled back towards the bed, sitting beside him once more. He kept his gaze down, hiding his expression. You chewed your lip, weighing your options, shuffling as close to the ginger as you could.
“Kyo?”
He didn’t reply, but his head lifted ever so slightly, and you took it as a green light.
“Can I try something? If you don’t like it, I’ll never bother you again.”
This time, his head lifted, and his thin brows furrows apprehensively. He nodded slowly, watching as you shifted and placed your hands gently on his face. You waited, giving him time to shove you away. You couldn’t be certain he was gay, but you were hoping that his lack of having a girlfriend was due in part to not being attracted to women.
He sat completely still as you leaned in, hands trembling and breath ghosting over his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you closed the gap between your mouths, slotting your lips against his. You could feel him gasp into the kiss, but surprise struck you when he didn’t pull away. He remained still for a moment, and you worried that he would shove you away, call you disgusting, demand that you leave.
Hands rested on your arms, tugging your body closer to Kyo’s. A small noise escaped your throat in surprise, and you slid your arms around the boy’s neck. His arms secured around your waist, holding your torso against his as you continued to attack his lips.
“The hell was that for?” he questioned when you pulled away, panting for air.
You shrugged. “Been wanting to for a long time. Finally got the chance.”
He offered a noncommittal hum in response, keeping his hands on your sides.
“Is that okay?” you inquired softly, worried that you’d offended him.
He leaned forward, pecking your lips softly. “Yeah. It’s okay.”
With a grin, you shuffled to lie down beside him, tucking your head against his chest and draping an arm across his abdomen. He huffed in response, as though he planned to shove you off, but instead, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you to his side.

If Shigure came home later that evening, went to check on Kyo, and found him asleep with you curled up in his arms, he didn’t say anything about it.

Chapter Text

Twister – Shoto Todoroki
A/N: Male!reader.

Words: 1,625.

It was a field trip. A simple freaking school field trip. The students had been allowed off the bus in order to wander around an old abandoned campsite, as long as they stayed in groups to prevent exactly what happened from happening. Bakugo just had to go off on his own, and Deku just had to follow and ensure his safety, and Todoroki had to follow Deku, and you had to follow Todoroki, Mina had to follow you. It was a mess.
Despite it being spring, and the weather being sunny and warm upon a rival, it was now hailing buckets outside, and Todoroki was certain that a villain had attacked the city and caused the storm. The rest of you agreed, and you and Deku had used every ounce of strength and willpower you contained to keep Bakugo and Todoroki from venturing out to find the villain themselves.
The lot of you had been exploring an empty cabin when the storm hit, so at least there was shelter. You were starving, and the cabin lacked any sort of sustenance, but it wasn’t particularly cold, and it was dry. In the corner, Mina had wandered off, perusing a small cabinet that was stuffed full of board games. Bakugo had deemed them all lame and childish, but that didn’t cease her interest.
When you heard a giggle come from the pink-haired girl, you knew you were doomed. She bounced over to the rest of the group, a simple box in her hand. Red, blue, yellow, and green dots littered the cover, and you read “Twister” along the side.
Well, that could be fun.
“Who wants to play?” she squealed.
Silence answered her. Mina pouted.
“I will,” you offered, raising a hand. Mina grinned, offering you a wink as she nodded towards Todoroki. She knew of your crush on the split-haired boy, though you’d sworn her to secrecy. Your eyes widened and heat rushed to your cheeks as you violently shook your head, banning her from voicing her excitement.
“It sounds fun,” Deku joined, a genuine smile stretching his lips. Bakugo snorted in distaste.
“You would think so, you fucking nerds,” he sneered.
“Does that mean you’re not gonna join?” the green-haired boy pouted.
“Hell no,” the blond growled, crossing his arms before Deku could pull an expression of disappointment and tug at his heartstrings.
“Afraid to lose, Bakugo?” Todoroki questioned nonchalantly, side-eying the blond.
As expected, Bakugo ignited, turning his death glare onto the split-haired teen. “Fuck no I’m not afraid, half and half bastard!”
“Join us, then,” you encouraged, watching as the corner of Todoroki’s mouth lifted into a triumphant smirk.
“I will!” the blond roared.
“Yay!” Mina cheered. “Everyone knows how to play, right?”
“I don’t,” Deku admitted, lifting his hand with a blush on his cheeks.
Bakugo scoffed. “Of course you don’t, you loser. Getting excited over a stupid game you’ve never fucking played.”
“Shut up, Kacchan,” the freckled boy pouted, earning a laugh from you and a snort from Todoroki.
“It’s super simple,” Mina began, bypassing their banter. “One person is the spinner – I’ll take that role for the first round. Then everyone else takes turns. I spin the board, and it’ll land on a hand or a foot and a color. Whoever’s turn it is has to get their hand or foot onto that color.”
She opened the box, withdrawing a cardboard spinner and a large plastic sheet, decorated with blotches of color. She laid it out on the floor with your help, ensuring that it was flat.
“Everyone, pick a side to start on. You’ll end up all over the mat, so it doesn’t matter where you start,” she instructed. You stood at one end, Deku took the green side, Todoroki the red, and Bakugo stood at the end opposite you.
“I say (y/n) should go first!” the pink girl grinned. Holding the spinner in one hand, she lifted the fingers of the other, flicking the needle and watching it spin. “Right hand, blue!”
You crouched down, resting your right palm on the nearest blue dot.
“Deku!” Mina announced, spinning the needle. “Left hand, green!”
“How do you win?” the green-haired boy questioned, squatting down and touching one of the green spots by his leg.
“You don’t fall,” the horned girl replied. You can only have your hands and feet on the mat. Let your knees touch it or lose your balance and you lose.” Another spin. “Bakugo! Left foot, red!”
With a roll of his eyes, Bakugo shifted his weight, planting his foot on the nearest red space.
“Todorki! Right hand, yellow!”
Todorki crouched, bracing his left hand in between the colored spaces, stretching himself across the board to place his right hand on a yellow dot.

An hour into the game, Deku was stretched across the mat, each hand and foot on a different color. To his left, Bakugo was crouched, his hands beside each other and his legs outstretched.
“Deku, left hand, yellow!” Mina squealed, and the smallest player audibly groaned. He pushed himself up, keeping his legs off the ground, and slowly shifted his hand away from the red space it had been on. His torso turned as the fingers of his left hand brushed the nearest yellow circle. Bakugo was positioned closer than he’d realized, and Deku lifted his head too quickly. His lips brushed against Bakugo’s, and a furious blush stained his freckled cheeks. The blond visibly tensed – had he been a cat, his fur would all be standing on end. Surprise overwhelmed him, and he fell over, small detonations bursting from hjs palms, narrowly missing the Twister mat. The explosions startled Deku, and he lost his composure, his knees hitting the floor.
“Two players out!” the pink-haired girl giggled. “That leaves (Y/n) and Todoroki still in!”
From where you were perched on the mat, your hands behind you and your back hovering above the floor, you caught the mischievous glint in the acidic girl’s eyes. You wouldn’t be surprised if she started making up her own turns, only spinning the needle as an alibi.
“(Y/n),” she grinned, holding your gaze as her finger flicked the needle on the board. “Left hand, green.”
Your eyes narrowed into a gaze. Yep, it was official. Mina was calling the shots. The spinner was just a decoy. In order to get your left hand on a green patch, you had to flip yourself over. Your right hand was stationed on a blue space, your left hand on red. Your feet were both on yellow. Beside you, Todoroki was in a similar position, and reaching a green spot required stretching yourself across his body.
Dammit, Mina.
With a sharp inhale, you flipped, planting your left hand on a green circle. Your torso hovered above Todoroki’s, nearly touching, and it took all of your willpower not to collapse onto his broad chest and bury yourself in his cologne. Lifting your head, you met Todoroki’s heterochromic gaze, and a familiar sensation dug its way through your back. Two large wings composed of black, silky feathers sprouted from your shoulder blades, ready to shield you from any imposing danger. They flapped gently of their own accord, and all you could do was stare at Todoroki’s perfect face, watching as his gaze shifted between your eyes and your wings.
On the other side of the room, Mina failed to hide a laugh behind her hand. She knew that you had little control over your wings, and that they freed themselves when you felt flustered or overwhelmed. She patted herself on the back and padded away, allowing you and Todoroki to assess the situation you were in.
“Heh,” you chuckled nervously, feeling heat crawling up your neck and dancing across your face. “Guess we’re kind of stuck.”
“Your wings are beautiful,” he said instead. He, along with the rest of the class, had only seen your wings during training, when you were learning to strengthen your quirks. You’d gained control over summoning them when you needed them, but they still sprouted on their own when they sensed your discomfort.
“Thank you,” you breathed. Your eyes fell not-so-subtly to his lips, and you thought back to a conversation you’d had with Mina on more than one occasion. She was convinced that the dual-quirk user was gay, but he hadn’t shown romantic interest in literally anything, so you couldn’t help but disagree. You didn’t want to get your hopes up.
But now, as you hovered above him, your arms shaking as you struggled not to collapse onto the mat or Todoroki, your fears were subsiding. Your gaze met his, and with an intake of breath, you took a chance. You leaned in, smashing your lips against his. His resolve crumbled, and he fell onto his butt. You crashed on top of him, accidentally straddling his lap with your hands on his chest.
“I’ve been waiting for that,” he admitted into your mouth.
“Should I do it again?” you questioned softly.
Instead of responding, Todoroki leaned in again, capturing your lips with his. Only a shriek from Mina broke you apart, and you followed her hand to where it was pointing at the now incinerated Twister mat, and Todoroki’s flaming left side.
You exhaled a giggle, crawling off of his lap. You stood, offering him a hand. He took it, rising to his feet. Just as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, a bus arrived outside, full of your classmates. You followed a giggly Mina, a blushing Deku, and a possessive Bakugo (who had his arm around Deku’s waist) outside, waiting for the bus doors to open.
You sat beside Todoroki, snuggling into his side as the bus driver drove the class back to U.A.

Chapter Text

Dancing – Cat Noir
A/N: Male!reader. Slightly aged-up characters, like 18-20ish.

Words: 1,323

You leaned against the wall, a soft sigh tumbling from your lips as you absent-mindedly sipped the non-alcoholic beverage you’d snagged from the refreshments table half an hour ago. The entire city of Paris had been invited to Le Grand Paris for the annual Ladybug and Cat Noir Celebratory Ball. This was the third year you’d attended, but you had yet to express your gratitude to the iconic heroes in person. They had saved your life on more than one occasion, directly and indirectly, and all you wanted was a moment of their time to explain how deeply you admired their work.
Just one level beneath your admiration sat a crush, long-harbored and ever-growing. You’d be lying to say that your interest in the famous Cat Noir was purely platonic. He was charming, and witty, and adorable. You had a weakness for blond hair and green eyes – who could blame you? Though you were certain he was in love with Ladybug (regardless of whether or not it was mutual), you couldn’t help but hope that perhaps his heart had room for you, too. You had no reason to believe he was attracted to men, but he seemed to be at least a kind enough person to be flattered should you ever admit your attraction, rather than roughly turning you away.
Your tired eyes scanned the crowd. Couples swayed together. Friends danced in groups. Parents led children around the dance floor. Everyone had someone – and then there was you. You always attended these parties alone. You’d recently graduated from Miss Bustier’s class, and you could see all of your former classmates having their own fun. Sure, you could mingle with some of them, but they were all busy. Alya and Nino had become quite the celebrity couple between Alya’s Ladyblog and Nino’s DJ gigs. Juleka and Rose started a band with Juleka’s brother, Luka. Ivan and Mylene had become inseparable.
And then there was you. You felt like your entire class was passing you by, leaving you in the dust. You’d found your passion, but you’d yet to get anywhere with it. You weren’t well-known, or well-funded, or well-liked. You were just sort of… there.
Another sigh. A head tilt to swallow the remains of your drink. You glared down at your empty glass as though it were the cup’s fault that you didn’t have a special someone or even some friends to spend time with.
“You look lonely,” came a familiar, silky voice. Your heart pounded in your chest as you lifted your gaze to settle on a tall, tanned blond, clad in the smoothest black suit you’d ever laid your eyes on. A lime green bowtie accented the black dress shirt, and Cat Noir’s signature mask was settled over his eyes. Black cat ears stuck out at perfect angles from the top of his head, adorned with silver studs, and he flashed you a toothy grin, extending a hand towards you.
“May I have this dance?”
You couldn’t help but look around you, ensuring that the hero you were crushing on was, in fact, talking to you. Looking back at him, you exhaled quickly before gathering your thoughts.
“Are you sure?” Smooth, (y/n). Real smooth.
He chuckled. “Sure am. I saw you earlier in this exact same position. Why aren’t you out there mingling?”
Your gaze dropped to the floor, your hands fidgeting with the rim of your empty glass. “I don’t really have any friends. Classmates, sure, but they’re all doing their own thing. I don’t really fit in anywhere.”
Cat Noir’s other hand approached, sneaking the cup from your hands and setting it on a nearby table. Both of his hands enveloped yours, and he slowly backed his way onto the dance floor, pulling you along with him.
“Allow me to ease your loneliness,” he smiled sweetly, his voice soft.
“Why me?” you asked before you could stop yourself. Cat Noir simply chuckled, guiding your hand to his shoulder before placing his on your waist.
“Don’t think I don’t recognize you,” he murmured, pulling your bodies flush together as a new song began. “I’ve saved your cute face more than once. I’ve always wanted to ask your name, but you seem to get away from me before I can. That, or I have to run for it before my identity gets revealed.”
“Would that be so bad?” you wondered aloud. “Everyone knowing who’s under the mask?”
“Sometimes I wonder,” he admitted, his lips ghosting over your ear. “But the mystery is part of the fun, isn’t it?”
A shiver crawled up your spine at his words, and you lost yourself in the dance. He twirled you across the floor, spinning you out only to tug you back in. You were vaguely aware of the sets of eyes watching your every move – particularly Chloe’s, who still believed that every man in Paris belonged to her, including the ones that she’d harshly rejected.
“People are staring,” you murmured, heat rising to your cheeks. You’d never handled being the center of attention very well.
“That’s because I’ve got the cutest partner,” Cat Noir returned, his right eye dropping into a wink as his smirk grew. The heat on your face was more prominent, and you were certain he noticed. But as he held you close, whispering in your ear, spinning you around the room, you found that you didn’t much care.

Midnight was fast approaching, which meant the Ball was nearly over. Most of the attendees had already gone home, and in the past, you would have, too. But Cat Noir held your attention all night. You took a break from dancing in favor of sitting down, catching your break, having a drink. You allowed the handsome hero to be privy to some personal information, and he told you as much as he could without revealing who he truly was. You were dying to know, especially if you were going to confess your feelings. But he had a reputation to uphold, and with villains still on the loose (nowhere near as many as when Ladybug and Cat Noir first became heroes, but they hadn’t gone extinct), it wasn’t safe for anyone to know their identities. You weren’t even sure if they knew each other’s names.
“I’ve got to go,” the hero stated with a disappointed expression. He rose from his seat, leading you to the balcony. He always preferred a flashy entrance and exit.
You could hear his ring beeping with urgency, and you allowed yourself a soft sigh. “I suppose this is goodbye.” So much for confessing your love.
He took your hand in his, holding it to his lips and gingerly kissing the knuckles. “Not goodbye. Only goodnight. I fully intend to see you again – if that’s alright with you, of course.”
Your eyes widened. “You want… to see me?”
He smiled brightly. “Of course. I still don’t know your name.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He returned it tenderly, his arms securing around your waist.
“(Y/n),” you murmured into his ear, and you could feel his grin against your cheek. His lips pressed against your skin for a moment before he pulled away.
He reached into the chest pocked of his jacket, producing a small notepad and a pen. Your head tilted in curiosity as he scribbled something down before tearing off the page and handing it to you.
“With this, I bid you adieu, (Y/n),” he smiled. His hand gently caressed your cheek before the beeping from his ring more insistent and he turned towards the balcony. Bracing one foot on the ledge, he leapt upwards, jumping from the balcony and into the night.
Chewing your lip to keep your grin at bay, you glanced down at the note in your hands.

It was wonderful getting to know you tonight, my sweet (Y/n). I fully intend to repeat it.
With love,
A.A.

Chapter Text

Nose Kiss – Tamaki Suoh
athousandwishes1000

The tea was smooth and sweet as it slid down your throat, swirling around your organs and heating your entire core. A hum of contentment sounded behind your lips as you closed your eyes, tilting your head back to swallow the final drops of the beverage. Sitting up straight, you gingerly placed the teacup back upon its matching saucer, which sat on the coffee table before you. Drink consumed, you lifted your novel from where it had fallen innocently beside you, flipping to a bookmarked page with one hand to resume reading.
Around you, the Ouran Host Club went about their daily shenanigans. Despite the occasional squealing, screeching, or thumping when one of the guests hit the floor, it was peaceful background noise, allowing you to lose yourself in a fantasy world of paper and ink while knowing that your real body was safe and secure. The other ladies wondered why you bothered spending time in the third music room if all you were going to do was read a book, but the hosts didn’t mind. You requested attention from a different host every day, ensuring that they each got a fair amount of attention. They had come to be your friends rather than celebrity crushes, so none of them minded taking turns.
You heard a familiar swooning sigh and glanced up, your gaze dancing across the room until it settled on a handsome blond embracing a fainted brunette. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you witnessed Tamaki’s antics. He was a charmer – royalty if you’d ever seen it. He had earned his title of Host Club King, and he played the part well. You couldn’t hear his words from where you sat, but you were certain he was murmuring sweet nothings into the ear of his current guest, causing a rush of blood to her head and a lack of consciousness. You watched as he skillfully lifted her in his arms, laying her down on the nearest couch, before turning to attend to other matters. As he padded across the floor, his head turned and he caught your gaze, one eye dropping into a wink that was meant only for you.
You, in turn, offered him a genuine smile.
When you’d first began visiting the Host Club, you’d found Tamaki’s character to be rather over the top. He was flamboyant and obnoxious, though insanely attractive. As you began spending your every afternoon in the third music room, you learned more about him and his crew, and you grew to regard each of them as your closest friends.
Today, you’d requested the presence of the twins. Now that they had finished their other duties- you didn’t mind being the last guest they treated, since you attended so often and enjoyed watching their activities just as much as participating- they were seated beside you, Kaoru on the right and Hikaru on the left.
“How’s the Host Club’s favorite guest?” they questioned in unison.
You chuckled softly, marking your book before setting it on the coffee table. “I’m fine, as always. How are two of my favorite hosts?”
They rolled their eyes simultaneously.
“You call everyone your favorite host,” Hikaru protested.
“Yeah,” Kaoru agreed. “Who’s really your favorite?”
On impulse, your gaze lifted, flitting about the room in search of a tall blond with sparkling eyes. You caught his gaze and allowed yourself a small smirk before staring down at your lap.
“You’ll know soon enough,” you told the twins.

From where he stood on the side of the room, Kyoya smirked to himself. He’d caught your near slip up, and being the only one who knew who your preferred host was, he allowed himself a soft chuckle.

As the day drew to a close, the guest filed slowly and reluctantly out of the third music room. Tamaki was sure to thank each and every one, blowing kisses and bidding soft farewells in that charming voice of his. You were the last to leave, as always. The hosts never minded, as you always paid your dues and were far more pleasant company than some of their more pretentious clients. As Tamaki closed the doors, signaling that the host club was well and truly closed for the day, you remained seated on your favorite couch, legs folded beneath you, book open in your lap as you half paid attention to the contents of its pages.
Hikaru and Kaoru, having done their part in the daily goodbyes, returned to sit beside you, their pestering intentions painfully obvious in their expressions. You suppressed a smirk, pretending to ignore them as you turned the page.
“You’re not leaving until you answer us,” Hikaru commented, nudging your shoulder with his own.
“Yeah, (y/n),” Kaoru continued, poking your arm. “Tell us who your favorite host is.”
With a giggle, you turned to face Hikaru. You leaned in, pursing your lips, and pressed a gentle kiss to his nose. As a blush blossomed on his cheeks, you turned to the other side, kissing Kaoru’s nose before he could question it. You then rose from the couch, reveling in their dumbfounded expressions and rose-tinted features. Their eyes watched your every move as you crossed the room, padding over to where Tamaki had dramatically strewn himself over his throne.
Without so much as a “Hey,” you plopped down atop his lap, snuggling sideways into his chest. A grin stretched his lips at the contact, and his lean arms secured around your waist. You hummed contently as you drew your legs up, curling them around his and tucking your head into his neck. One slender hand came up to card its fingers through your hair, leading you to close your eyes and relax completely.
The other hosts simply stared at your position with wide, wondering eyes – save for Kyoya, who simply chuckled to himself.
“Boss?” Kaoru inquired softly, watching as you lifted your head to gaze into the deep amethyst eyes of the Host King. He leaned down, a playful smile on his lips, and pressed the softest of kisses to your nose.
“They’re dating,” Kyoya explained to his fellow hosts. Honey-senpai squealed. Mori-senpai nodded in approval. Haruhi congratulated you. Hikaru and Kaoru were busy screeching over each other.
You exhaled a giggle, snuggling further into Tamaki’s chest. You felt relieved now that the others knew – hiding your love for the flamboyant blond was exhausting.
“So I guess this means Tamaki is your favorite host?” Hikaru asked, a smirk on his lips.
Instead of turning to look at him, you grinned at Tamaki, pressing your mouth to his. “Yep!”

Chapter Text

Long Distance – Hitoshi Shinso
AceOfClubs1719
A/N: Trans!male!reader. I actually know about transgender things now so this will be more accurate than the last one I tried to write.
So, to clear it up in case I didn’t explain it properly, because it was thrown in as an after thought when I was trying to logicalize the plot.
The reader has a healing quirk. It’s not all powerful – wounds don’t heal in an instant. But it expedites the process, so an injury that would normally take several months to heal might only take one month instead.

Words: 1,444

The bathroom was flooded with steam pouring from over the top of the shower door, behind which you were letting nearly too-hot water cascade down your back and sides. A contented hum sounded in your throat as you tipped your head back, rinsing the last of the conditioner from your hair. After a few moments of scrubbing your body down with your favorite body wash, you turned around to twist the water tap, shutting off the flow. You then gently pushed open the shower door and reached for your favorite towel- the fluffy purple one that reminded you of a special someone- that you’d hung on the rack. Wrapping it around yourself, you plucked a washcloth from the counter and used it to wipe away the condensation on the mirror, bringing your reflection into focus.
For the first time in, honestly, forever, you let your towel drop to the floor. Water droplets slid down your body, evaporating into the rug beneath your feet. Your wet hair clung to your head and the back of your neck, only adding to the onslaught of dribbles pouring down your back, but you weren’t paying them any attention.
Your eyes zeroed in on your chest – your freshly healed, surgically altered, finally flat chest. You’d been saving money for years to be able to afford chest surgery, to finally remove the sagging bags of tissue from your body forever. You couldn’t recall a time in your life where you hadn’t been dreaming of top surgery, and when the jar in which you’d been storing spare change and extra cash finally filled, you shrieked and nearly burst into tears.
It had been a long process, and the healing was no walk in the park. Everything hurt. Everything was sensitive. Everything was sore. But it was worth it. Looking at your reflection, fully naked, and not absolutely despising the view of your torso was absolutely worth every penny you’d plucked from the parking lot, and every second you spent high on prescription medications to numb the pain. Your quirk expedited the healing of wounds, but only by so much, and it did nothing for the ache and discomfort. Plus, stitches took a long time to heal on their own, so your quirk could only skip so many days of restoration.
The best part? Your fiancé of one year (boyfriend of six) had no idea. He knew you’d always wanted it, of course. You’d gotten together shortly before you finally understood what transgender meant, and how perfectly it described your self-image. Hitoshi Shinso had been surprisingly supportive, encouraging even, considering how little emotion he displayed to everyone who wasn’t you. Only you had access to his true feelings, desires, and concerns.
It had begun with testosterone therapy. You’d done a ton of research, and Shinso had held your hand every step of the way. Plenty of people expected him to leave, including you. Society was quick to judge both of you, demanding to know why Shinso would waste his time with a fake man, insisting that he deserved better and that you should leave him alone. At home, at night, in bed, the depression would kick in, and your walls would crumble. You’d sob and whimper and question why Shinso had stuck with you through everything, been as supportive as he was. The purple-haired man would simply hold you, explain that he loved you, and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until the crying subsided.
He knew you’d been saving up. He offered repeatedly to donate to the cause, but you refused to let him. He worked hard as a hero, and you didn’t want his earnings to all go to your personal journey. You insisted on saving every cent on your own, and Shinso reluctantly obliged. He knew he couldn’t even sneak in a dollar here and there – you counted your savings on a regular basis, partly to motivate yourself to keep going and partly to ensure that none had gone missing or been previously miscounted.
Shinso was currently several towns over on a lengthy assistance mission. Normally, he wouldn’t be out of town more than a few days, but he’d been sent to a nearby town that had been subject to intense villain activity, and it seemed as though every other day shoved a new battle in his face. He kept regular contact with you – nightly phone calls and text messages any time he got a break, so you could each ensure that the other was alright. You worried desperately over him. You knew that he was an accomplished, competent hero, but he was in an unfamiliar town with unfamiliar villains being thrown at him left and right. You would never not worry.
He’d been gone for a month, and all you could do was hope and pray that he would be home soon.
With newfound confidence, you opted to skip wearing a shirt, only pulling on a new pair of purple plaid boxers that Shinso had bought for you before he left. You scrubbed the towel across your head to dry the strands before returning it to its rack and exiting the bathroom. As you headed into the kitchen to fix some coffee, your ringtone echoed through the apartment, alerting you to an incoming phone call. Instead of padding into the kitchen, you spun on your heel and headed back to the bedroom to retrieve your phone.
Your heart pounded in your chest and a grin split your lips when you read Shinso’s contact name across the screen. You barely tapped “accept” before holding the device to your ear. “Hey, babe.”
“Morning, handsome.”
Your chest fluttered. “How’s work going?”
“Actually, I’m done.”
“What?!” You nearly dropped your phone on the way to the kitchen. Securing it between your ear and your shoulder, you went back to your original plan of brewing coffee. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m on my way home.”
“Really?” You couldn’t stifle the squeal that ripped its way out of your throat. Coffee grounds definitely didn’t fly out of the bag in your hands and spill all over the counter. You definitely didn’t continue the process like the mess didn’t exist.
“Really.” He chuckled, and you melted at the sound.
“When will you be home?”
A knock sounded on the door, and you paused midway through filling the carafe with water to answer it, first setting the carafe on the counter. You stood on your toes to peer through the peephole, gasping loudly at the sight of gravity-defying violet locks on the other side.
You threw the door open with a grin on your face. “Babe!”
He crossed the threshold in one step, wrapping you in his arms and lifting you into the air. His face burrowed in your neck, humming at the familiar scent of your shower products. His hands roamed your back as he set you on your feet, purple brows raising in surprise and confusion at your lack of a shirt. He stepped back, indigo eyes scanning your form before widening noticeably.
“Babe…?”
Your lips stretched in a grin, and you planted your hands on your hips. “What do you think?”
“You look amazing,” Shinso admitted, a soft smile on his lips. He stepped forward again, resting his hands on your hips. “When did you get it done?”
“A couple of days after you left,” you answered, your arms winding around his neck. “I was hoping I would be all healed by the time you got home. Once the aftercare medications kicked in, so did my quirk. It’s still a little tender, but the incisions are fully closed and the scars will fade soon.”
“I’m so happy for you,” he murmured, dipping his head to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. You hummed against his mouth, melting against his chest. Your hands tangled in his wild hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss and groaning softly into your mouth.
“So you like it?” you questioned, looking down at your chest with the slightest hint of insecurity in your voice.
Shinso’s hand grasped your jaw, lifting your gaze back up to meet his. “I love it. You look amazing, and I’m proud of you.”
He kissed you again before you wiggled out of his grasp in order to finish making coffee. The promise of caffeine released his hold on you, and he instead followed along, assisting you wherever he could and cleaning the mess you’d made on the counter. The rest of the day was spent relaxing, drinking more coffee than was probably healthy, and cuddling in bed, wrapped up in the arms of your eternally supportive fiancé.

Chapter Text

Out to Dinner – Takashi Shirogane
SuicidalConnorMurphy
A/N: Male!reader.
I went back and forth repeatedly as I wrote this trying to decide what timeline it would be set in or if it should be canon-compliant or if I would even include the details. I decided as I got towards the end that it follows the story of Voltron, and it’s set after Adam’s death.

Shiro stood before the mirror in his bathroom, struggling in vain to tame the wild patch of white fluff that hung between his eyes. He eventually gave up, setting his hairbrush on the counter and allowing his hair to be as unmanageable as it desired. Stepping back, he admired his attire – which Matt, Keith, and Lance had teasingly helped him assemble.
He was dressed in a soft purple button-up, accompanied by black slacks and a black bowtie. He preferred proper ties, but he knew you had a weakness for bowties, so he adorned one as often as he could. He had showered with the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash set you’d picked out when the two of you went shopping together, and once he was dressed and styled, he sprayed himself with the cologne that always made you cling to him like a koala so you could keep inhaling its scent.
Satisfied with his appearance, he slipped on his best dress shoes before padding over to his dresser. Opening the bottom drawer, he dug through miscellaneous ties and accessories, reaching to the back of the space for a small velvet box. He slipped it into the pocket of his slacks and headed for the front door. One hand plucked the keys from the table by the door while the other tugged his suit jacket from where it hung on the wall before he opened the door and slipped outside.
The drive to your house was quick but nerve-wracking. Without your lively personality to keep him distracted, Shiro was left to his thoughts. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest, reminding him just how important and intense his plans for the evening were.
Once at your house, he parked the car and turned off the ignition, sliding out of his seat and closing the door. He shuffled up the steps to your front door, knocking three times before rolling back on his heels. He inhaled deeply, exhaling just as the door opened.
On the other side, you stood before your boyfriend of five years, dressed in a (f/c) dress shirt and fitted black jeans. Around your neck was a purple bowtie, the one that you had bought because it always reminded you of Shiro’s personality – beautiful and fetching, with a hint of mystery and intrigue.
“You look amazing,” Shiro breathed, his dark eyes scanning your form.
A smile tugged at your lips. “You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.”
Straightening, Shiro offered you his arm. “Ready to go?”
With your house keys in one pocket, your phone in another, and a small gift bag in one hand, you nodded, wrapping your free arm around your boyfriend’s. You closed and locked the door behind you before following the slightly taller man out to his car. Shiro held open your door, ensuring that you were safe inside before he closed it. He then opened his own, sliding in and starting the engine as you clicked your seatbelt.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Shiro commented, eyeing the bag in your lap as he drove to the night’s destination.
You rolled your eyes. “You always say that, ‘Kashi. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give you a present on our anniversary?”
He chuckled in response, resting his right arm on the center console. Your left arm joined it, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. Shiro gave your hand a squeeze, which you returned with two.
Breathe, Shiro told himself. You’ve got this.

You arrived at your favorite restaurant, and Shiro watched as your eyes lit up. It was pricy, so you had only used it for date night a couple of times during your relationship. You shot a glance at your boyfriend as he opened your door, offering you a hand to help you out. You accepted it, keeping it in yours even as you padded up to the front door.
The place was packed, and you worried you would have to wait. Just as you were about to voice your concern, Shiro sauntered up to the host’s podium with a soft smile.
“Reservation for Shirogane.”
The host nodded and picked up two menus before leading you through the crowd. You resisted another eye roll – of course he had a reservation. Shiro was a thorough planner who disliked leaving even the slightest detail to chance. You really should have expected this.
The host stopped by a small table and set the menus down. “What can I get you to drink?”
Shiro ordered a bottle your favorite brand of wine as he pulled out your chair. The host nodded before sauntering away, and you took a seat.
“Reservations, wine,” you commented, smirking up at your boyfriend. “You really went all out, didn’t you, ‘Kashi?”
The older man chuckled, sitting across from you. “Nothing but the best for my man.”
Your chest fluttered at his words, and your smirk melted into a genuine smile. You lifted the menu to peruse it, knowing it was futile. You both ordered the same dishes every time you visited this particular restaurant. But it was fun to see if the menu had changed, or give another special the option to catch your attention.
When the waiter arrived with the bottle of wine and an order pad, you and Shiro both relied on your favorites. The waiter nodded, a smile on his lips, before shuffling away. Shiro popped open the wine and poured each of you a glass, setting yours beside you. He then lifted his own into the air, prompting you to follow suit.
“To five incredible years,” he toasted, the softest smile on his features, “and to an eternity more.”
“Cheers,” you murmured, allowing your glass to gently collide with his. You sipped your wine in unison, your eyes on your boyfriend as you set your glass back on the table.

An hour passed before the two of you had finished your dinners and wine. It felt like no time at all as you stole kisses and caresses from one another, sharing old memories and trading anecdotes from work. A serious expression suddenly laid claim on Shiro’s features, and you tilted your head in curiosity.
“Babe?” you questioned gently. Had something gone wrong? Had he recalled a piece of bad news?”
He shook his head, offering you a smile. “(y/n)… I love you so much.”
You relaxed with a smile. “I love you too, ‘Kashi.”
He took your hand in his, his thumb running softly over your knuckles. “I was a broken man before you came along. I’d been through so much trauma and loss… I didn’t think I’d ever be a whole again. I certainly didn’t think I could find love. When Adam died on top of everything else… I was ready to give up. And then you came along, and you pushed past my walls and you insisted on being part of my life. I owe my entire happiness to your existence. I wouldn’t be the man I am today if I didn’t have you by my side, supporting me through everything.”
He rose from his chair only to kneel before you, one hand holding yours while the other slipped into his pocket. Your free hand flew to your mouth as you blinked rapidly to try and stifle the onslaught of tears rising behind your eyes.
“(y/n), my love,” Shiro continued, popping open the box to reveal a silver band encrusted with tiny amethysts, “You are my light, my everything. Will you marry me?”
The entirety of your willpower wasn’t enough. The dam in your eyes broke, tears pouring freely down your face. “Shiro… Of course I will!”
The sun would have been blinded by the grin that stretched across Shiro’s face. He slid the ring onto your finger before standing and pulling you up with him. The other patrons in the restaurant had heard the proposal and the acceptance, and were all loudly cheering as Shiro wrapped his arms around your waist. You threw you arms around his neck, tugging him down for a searing kiss.
When you parted, the waiter returned with a complimentary dessert in congratulations. You and Shiro returned to your seats, finishing the date by feeding each other bites of cake.
As Shiro drove you home at the end of the evening, you couldn’t stop admiring the ring on your finger, dreaming of the future you undoubtedly had waiting with the man you loved.

Chapter Text

Bedtime – Shinso x Kaminari
SuicidalConnorMurphy
A/N: Little Space AU. Kaminari is a little and you can’t tell me otherwise.
Little Space, for anyone who doesn’t know (I didn’t know until recently), is a mental escape in which adults take on the mannerisms of children – speech impediments, wearing onesies or childish pajamas, employing the use of sippy cups and binkies, extra stuffed animals and blankets (I say extra because as an adult who’s not a little I enjoy my collection of animals and blankets), and having someone to refer to as a parent or caregiver (usually a significant other if the little has one). It’s a sort of coping mechanism, especially for people with depression and/or anxiety.

Words: 1,625

The day had been emotionally taxing. The League of Villains had acquired new members, so in addition to Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga, and Warp Gate, the heroes had to combat an onslaught of unknown quirks and negative temperaments. The newest generation of pro heroes had joined the scene, though for former class 1-A, fighting bad guys was nothing new. Hitoshi Shinso had yet to be in the heat of battle, but he adapted quickly, working with his comrades to outsmart the villains and, despite a collection of wounds, emerge victorious.
The young heroes had only recently graduated from U.A. – they hadn’t even reached the age of twenty yet. They were barely legal adults, and they had been thrown into one of the most intense battles they could imagine. It was understandable for most of them to want to cease existence for the next day (or week) and give themselves a chance to recuperate.

Shinso exhaled a sigh as he fumbled to fish his apartment key from his pocket before shoving it into the deadbolt on his front door. He twisted it before reaching down to turn the knob, effectively shoving open the door and shuffling inside. In one arm he carried a paper bag overflowing with the groceries he would need to prepare dinner for the evening. He did most of the cooking under the agreement that Kaminari would do the cleaning, as the blond was an absolutely disaster in the kitchen and could barely accomplish constructing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without assistance (and Shinso insisted on at least supervising whenever he was home, otherwise every surface in the kitchen would end up smeared with chunky peanut butter and raspberry jelly and be littered with bread crumbs).
As he crossed the doorway and headed into the kitchen, Shinso could hear the soundtrack to Kaminari’s favorite movie wafting from their shared bedroom. The purple-haired man smiled softly to himself as he began putting the groceries away. The soft musical notes that were just barely audible was a telltale sign that his lover had gone into Little Space while he was shopping. He’d honestly been expecting it. Kaminari had been having a hard recovery after their last fight, and Shinso hadn’t been able to spend much time at home. After endless amounts of paperwork to file on the villain attack, he’d gone to the store, deciding that only Kaminari’s favorite dish would be suitable for dinner and discovering that they had literally none of the ingredients required to cook it.
“I’m home, Pika,” Shinso called loudly enough to be heard over the music. He preferred to refer to his boyfriend as Denki or Kami, but when the blond was in Little Space, his nickname of choice was Pika, since so many people had likened him to Pikachu.
From the corner of his eye, the perpetually exhausted man saw a flash of yellow, and a smirk lifted his lip. Kaminari also refused to wear anything besides his Pikachu onesie when he regressed (unless it was dirty, in which case he would borrow Shinso’s Gengar onesie). Shinso hadn’t expected his boyfriend to join him so soon, since the blond usually preferred to hide under their blankets and listen to music until Shinso was available to cuddle him.
Yellow-clad arms wrapped around his waist from behind, hands clasping on his stomach. A forehead pressed into his shoulder, and he tilted his head back to let it rest on Kaminari’s. Shinso paused in his rinsing of vegetables to dry off his hands, lifting one to brush through golden blond hair.
“Missed you,” came a soft voice, muffled by the taller man’s shirt.
Shinso smiled fondly. “I missed you too, love. Were you alright while I was out?”
Expectedly, Kaminari shook his head, burrowing it further into Shinso’s back. Shinso turned around in his arms, securing his own around his boyfriend. He tugged down the hood of the onesie, giving him full access to card his fingers through soft hair. Kaminari hummed and leaned into the touch, his hands fisting in the back of Shinso’s shirt.
“Do you want to help me make dinner?” the taller man inquired softly, his lips ghosting over his boyfriend’s ear.
There was a pause before Kaminari nodded into his collarbone. There were rare occasions when he would prefer to sit in their bedroom and wait, but he craved attention both in and out of Little Space. His GarGar (his nickname for Shinso when he was regressing – short for Gengar) had been gone all day, and the blond was desperate for attention.
“Okay, Pika,” Shinso smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Will you peel a clove of garlic for me?”
Excited by the prospect of helping his GarGar, Kaminari nodded, a grin on his lips. He took a clove from the bowl on the counter and dug the trash can out from beneath the sink. He then pulled himself up to sit on the counter, holding the trash can between his legs. He hummed softly to himself as he peeled the garlic, his tongue poking between his lips in concentration.
Once it was done, Shinso took the cloves and chopped them up before adding them to the bowl of raw meat and seasonings he had been preparing. He mixed everything together before scooping meat out and forming it into hamburgers. Kaminari licked his lips as he watched his boyfriend work. Shinso wasn’t a big fan of burgers, but he knew they always made the blond feel better, so he cooked them fairly often.
As they cooked in a pan on the stove, Shinso ensured that all of Kaminari’s preferred toppings were available. The blond fetched everything they needed from the fridge, and Shinso sliced and diced everything that required it. Kaminari also retrieved their condiment choices from the door of the fridge, setting them on the counter.
Once the burgers were cooked, Shinso procured two plates from the appropriate cupboard. He set a hamburger bun- sesame seed, of course, because who wants a plain bun?- on each plate, joined by a well-seasoned burger. He was about to set his aside to begin assembling Kaminari’s when the latter tugged at his sleeve.
“I make yours,” he insisted.
The taller man smiled. One of Pika’s favorite things was to assist Shinso, usually by trading tasks.
“Okay,” Shinso agreed, handing his plate to the blond. A smile brighter than the power of his quirk stole Kaminari’s lips as he set to work fixing all of Shinso’s favorite toppings neatly atop his burger. Shinso did the same to Kaminari’s plate, watching his adorable boyfriend from the corner of his eye.
“Done!” Kaminari exclaimed proudly. Shinso inspected it, nodding in approval upon discovering that the blond had used all of his favorite toppings.
He picked up both of their plates before jerking his head towards the fridge. “Will you grab us a couple of drinks, Pika?”
Kaminari nodded eagerly, prying open the door and rummaging through the bottom shelf. Shinso made his way to their bedroom, where they ate most of their meals, setting their plates on the bedside table before picking up the remote to the DVD player.
Kaminari joined him soon after, a soda in each hand. He passed one to Shinso, smiling fondly upon realizing that the taller man had restarted his favorite movie for them to watch together.
Shinso sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard with his plate in his lap. Kaminari settled in beside him, snuggling into his side as best he could without spilling food on him.
“Aren’t you tired of this movie, GarGar?” Kaminari questioned softly, taking a bite of his burger.
Shinso swallowed his own food before shaking his head. “It makes you happy. How could I possibly tire of that?”
Kaminari grinned, burying his head on Shinso’s shoulder with a contented hum.

An hour and a half later, the ending credits drifted up the screen, and Kaminari was struggling to stay conscious. Shinso turned to him with a soft smile, tightening the arm he’d wrapped around the blond. Every few moments, a soft snore would sound from his direction before he shook himself awake, not ready to admit that he was ready for bed.
Shinso set their empty plates on the bedside table and picked up the remote, turning off the TV. He then gently pushed Kaminari’s shoulders until he was fully lying down with his head on the pillow.
“I’m not tired, Toshi,” the blond insisted, though his eyes were closed and his body quickly relaxed.
“It’s still bedtime, baby,” the purple-haired man murmured. He sat up in order to drape Kaminari’s favorite blankets across him, tucking him in like a snug little burrito. Once he was done, he flipped off the light and crawled into bed beside him, slipping under the covers and sliding his arm beneath his boyfriend’s head. The blond accepted it immediately, curling into Shinso’s side. He opened one eye tiredly, a pout on his lips, and it only took the taller man a second to understand why. Leaning over Kaminari, he stretched his free hand to grope around the floor. After a moment, he exhaled a triumphant sound, fingers wrapped around something plush and soft. He offered the object- a purple stuffed cat- to Kaminari, who squealed in approval and squeezed it to his chest.
Shinso smiled softly, kissing his boyfriend’s forehead. A soft sucking sound emanated from where Kaminari was tucked into his chest, and he relaxed. The blond preferred suckling on his knuckles, or Shinso’s if his hands were clean, to employing a pacifier.
“Goodnight, GarGar,” the blond murmured sleepily, burrowing his head into his caregiver’s neck.
“Goodnight, Pika,” the latter replied, wrapping his arms around him and closing his eyes.

Chapter Text

Selfie – Lance McClain
SuicidalConnorMurphy
A/N: Male!reader. High school AU.

Words: 2,357

Lance McClain was the Selfie King. If he were to be published in the Garrison High yearbook, his trademark would be “Took the Most Selfies.” Nobody particularly minded it, though. They teased the Cuban on more than one occasion, but the taunts never had any heat to them. Lance had a rather impressive Instagram following, considering his feed consisted of selfie after selfie after selfie, sprinkled with a few photos of his favorite beverages from the local coffee shop.
As his best friend, you were a frequent occurrence in his postings. “Hanging with the best boyo!” was a common caption on Lance’s photos, followed by your username and an onslaught of hashtags. You desperately wanted to be more than the official Best Friend, but you supposed that was better than being a background character.

One of the reasons that Kaltenecker’s Café was Lance’s favorite caffeine destination was because you were a barista there on the weekends. You usually worked the morning shift, leaving your afternoons open for hanging out and catching up on any homework you didn’t finish during the week.
Every Saturday and Sunday, at ten in the morning, like clockwork, Lance was there, chatting up your coworkers while you prepared his drink of choice. In the spring, it was an iced Americano with cream and vanilla syrup. Summer was a cinnamon chai milkshake. Autumn was a pumpkin spice latte. Winter was a hot chai latte, dirty if he was studying.
It was ten a.m. on Saturday, and you had just clocked in for your shift. Your hands wound around your back, securing your apron as you padded out to the front counter. The café was quiet, so you set about prepping your station and brewing yourself a beverage to keep your energy up. The owner was a sweetheart, and one of the first things he’d told you during training was that you were welcome to help yourself to any drink in the café provided that you prepared it yourself, kept it out of customer view, and didn’t let it go to waste.
The bell above the door chimed, altering you to a new customer.
“Good morning. Welcome to Kaltenecker’s,” you called without looking up from the counter. Tanned skin appeared in your peripheral vision, drawing your gaze upwards. A smile settled on your lips as Lance leaned against the counter, signature smirk on his lips, one hand raised and poised into a finger gun.
“Good morning, handsome,” he grinned. Fondness fluttered in your stomach, only to be crushed by the reality that you were just his friend. Though the entire campus knew that Lance was a proud bisexual, you couldn’t help but doubt that you would be even close to his type. He flirted with everyone, it seemed. Everyone except for you.
“Hey, Lance,” you greeted, already punching his order into the register. “Your usual?”
“You know it,” he beamed. “Extra shot, please? Finals are coming up.”
“Don’t remind me,” you groaned. Once the brunet paid for his drink, tipping as usual, you set about concocting it.
“Study buddies?” Lance inquired with a wiggle of his thin cinnamon brows. The two of you always prepped for midterms and finals together, though your benefits fell short. You always got distracted by his midnight blue eyes and sun-kissed skin, leading you conveniently forget every single chapter you quizzed each other on.
“Of course,” you agreed without missing a beat. Failing finals was worth quality time with the boy you’d never admit your gay attraction to.
“Awesome!” He shot you a toothy grin, and the butterflies that had been dancing in your abdomen exploded into homosexual confetti. You slid his drink across the counter with practiced ease, watching as he reached for it before you even fully released the cup. Your fingers brushed against his, and it felt like a thousand volts shot through your skin. You struggled to stifle a shiver, trying to keep your gay heart under control.
Lance turned his back to you, holding his drink in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He tapped the screen to activate his camera before hoisting the device into the air, effectively capturing the both of you in the screen’s dimensions.
“Say cheese!” the brunet declared, hardly giving you a chance to smile before he tapped the center button to snap the photo. Satisfied, he shoved his phone into his pocket and took a large swig of his beverage
He moaned loudly in approval, and the noise traveled straight to your lower regions.
“You’re the best, (y/n),” he stated. “My place after work?”
You nodded. “I’ll be here. Need me to bring my books?”
He offered you a sheepish chuckle, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Heh, yeah. I may have left mine in my locker today.”
You rolled your eyes, a fond smile on your lips. Lance McClain was the epitome of unprepared.
“See you later,” he said with a wink, shooting you one final finger gun gesture before spinning on his heel and sauntering out of the café. You chewed your lip, staring after him like a lost puppy.

When you took your first break, you withdrew your phone from your pocket to peek at your notifications. It came as no surprise that Instagram was at the top of the list, alerting you that Lance had tagged you in a post. You unlocked your phone and tapped on the note, dropping your weight onto one of the metal folding chairs in the break room. Leaning back against it, your gaze was met with the photo Lance had taken earlier, displaying himself, his drink, and you in the background. Scrolling down, you allowed yourself to read the caption.

Got to see this cutie again! Look how cute u are @username! Cant wait for our study sesh later!
#caffeine #kalteneckers #bestbud #isnthecute? #shoulditellhim? #maybenexttime

A blush dusted your cheeks at the compliment, and you reminded yourself that this wasn’t the first time Lance had posted flirty captions in your honor. What caught your attention, though, was the hashtags. What did “should I tell him?” mean? What did Lance want to tell you? Why wasn’t he telling it?
Ten minutes rushed by as you pondered the brunet’s words, and with a sigh, you stuffed your phone back into your pocket, returning to the world of coffee beans and soy milk.

Nearly a week later, finals had come to an end, and the student body breathed a collective sigh of relief. Lance had passed with flying colors, thanks to your tutoring, and you were grateful that his flirting hadn’t impacted your focus.
You met up with Lance after his last test of the day, and his first instinct was to wrap you in a hug and lift you from the ground.
“You’re the best!” he shrieked, squeezing his arms around you. You only hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was drumming.
“How did you do?” you inquired once your feet regained contact with the floor.
“I passed!” he beamed, taking your hands in his. “I passed everything!”
You grinned, hoping he couldn’t feel how sweaty your palms were. “That’s amazing, Lance! I told you you were smart!”
“Come on,” the brunet said as he draped an arm across your shoulders. “I’m taking you out for dinner to celebrate and to thank you.”
“Oh, Lance, you don’t have to-“
“Don’t even think about getting out of it,” he grinned. “I owe you. Without your help, I would have had to repeat the year!”
You chuckled softly. “Well, I can’t have my best friend falling behind, now can I?”
He led you outside to his cobalt blue Camaro, climbing into the driver’s seat while you slid into the other side. “Despacito” blared through the speakers as he drove to a nearby diner, one that the two of you were quite fond of.
Your eyes danced across the sign that read Vrepit Sal’s Diner, and your heart warmed at the familiarity. Every year, the two of you would come to the diner to celebrate after passing midterms and finals. Lance led you inside, keeping his arm around you. The owner, Sal, waved as you entered, calling for you to sit anywhere you preferred. You followed the lean brunet to his favorite booth by the window, sliding in across from him.
Sal approached with your favorite drinks, already knowing what the two of you would order. You had spent so many lunches at the diner, it was a wonder why neither of you worked there.
As Sal shuffled away to prepare your food, Lance rose from his seat. You watched him with curious eyes as he gestured for you to slide further into your side of the booth. You complied, watching as he slid down beside you.
“Selfie time!” he declared, and you laughed. You really should have seen it coming. You plastered on the calmest smile you could as Lance opened his camera, holding it at arm’s length in front of you. You rested your head on his shoulder, and with a grin, he placed his head on yours, winking at the lens. The picture snapped, and a moment later, Lance returned to his side of the booth, leaving you feeling a draft.
His thumbs typed furiously at his phone, no doubt uploading the photo to Instagram. You sipped at your drink while you waited, knowing you would be tagged in the post and alerted when it was viewable.
Your phone dinged, and you picked it up to check the notification. Sure enough, Instagram had informed you of a tag from Lance, and you clicked it open. On your screen sat the photo of you, edited via a bright filter, and you scrolled down to read the caption.

Look at him!!! Isnt he adorable??? Lunch at vrepit sals!
#lunch #yummy #vrepitsals #bestbud #cutiepie #imacoward

Your brows furrowed in confusion at the tags, and you glanced up to question Lance about them. Sal returned with two plates of food, setting one in front of each of you. Aloud, you thanked him, but in your head, you cursed his interruption. The brunet was a disaster when asked to focus on two things at once, and as much of a chatterbox as he was, food always won out over anything else.
With a sigh, you ate your lunch, missing the longing gaze in those midnight blue eyes sitting across from you.

Another week passed, and prom night was fast approaching. Garrison High was buzzing with excitement as boys and girls alike gushed over who they were going with and what they were wearing.
The only person you wanted to ask you was your best friend, and only saw you as such. If he didn’t ask you, there wasn’t a point in attending.
“Hey, (y/n),” came Lance’s familiar voice. Classes had ended for the day, and you were ready to go home and escape all of the prom talk.
“Hey, Lance,” you greeted, offering him a weak smile.
“You going to prom?” he questioned.
You shook your head. “I doubt it.”
He frowned. “Why not? Has anyone asked you?”
“Nobody I’m interested in,” you shrugged. “I don’t really want to go with someone I don’t like, and the person I like hasn’t-“ You cut yourself off, a blush on your cheeks.
“The person you like?” the brunet grinned slyly. “You never told me you were crushing on someone.”
“It’s nothing,” you sighed. “He… He’d never be interested in me.”
Lance raised a brow, and you failed to catch the hopeful gleam in his eye. “He? Why not? Is he not into guys?”
“He is,” you countered, “I just don’t think he’s into me.”
Before Lance could question further, you spun on your heel and fled from the building. Any more questions and the Cuban would have figured out you were talking about him, and you couldn’t bear to face him when he pieced it together.

The night before prom, you were sitting in your room. A show you’d long since ceased paying attention to played on the TV, but your eyes were glued to your phone. You had been texting a couple of people about prom, letting them gush to you about how excited they were. You wished them the best of luck, and carefully changed the subject when they asked why you weren’t going. No one knew of your crush on Lance, so you didn’t have to deal with any pitying texts.
An Instagram notification popped up, and you quirked a brow. Lance had tagged you in yet another post. You almost didn’t want to check it, tired of trying to decipher his vague but intriguing hashtags.
Curiosity got the better of you, and you clicked on it. You nearly choked at the sight that met your eyes, not daring to believe it.
In the photo was Lance, his torso hidden behind a notebook that he held up to the camera. Written on the notebook was your name, along with, “Go to prom with me?”
You scrolled down to the caption, your free hand clasping over your mouth in disbelief.

This isnt quite how I intended to tell u, bestie, but ive been crushing on you 4ever. I know im a flirt but around u I just get so shy and flustered, and I cant think of a single pickup line. U deserve better than that anyway. @username will u go to prom with me?
#pleasesayyes #promnight #bestie #bestbud #boyfriendsmaybe?

Biting your lip to keep your grin from breaking your face, you tapped the comments section and typed out a reply.

You dork! I’ve been waiting forever for this! When I said I would only go with the guy I liked, I was talking about you. Of course I’ll go to prom with you!

When prom night arrived, many selfies were taken. During one, you stole a kiss, pleasantly surprising your brown-haired date. When he uploaded the photos to Instagram, he was back to his usual flirtatious self, but with one key difference in his captions.
You were no longer #bestbud. You were now referred to as #bestboyfriend.

Chapter Text

Flowers – Tomura Shigaraki
SuicidalConnorMurphy
A/N: Trans!male!reader.

Tomura Shigaraki swore under his breath for the umpteenth time in a span of ten minutes, though slightly louder than the last swore that had fallen from his scarred lips. He’d spent nearly an hour in the local flower shop, which was a difficult enough journey on its own. To make matters worse, every associate and patron in the building recognized the blue-haired ex-villain, and despite his lack of evil activity for the last three years, no one believed that he had truly changed. Every step Shigaraki took drew the attention of a dozen onlookers, and had he not promised a special someone that he was done killing, he’d have already wrapped a hand around each and every neck in the vicinity so they would let him be.
He’d been browsing the same selection of (f/color) flowers for the past forty minutes, and the second he would reach out- cautiously, he might add- to caress one and judge its worth, someone would gasp, or yelp, or holler, or otherwise distract him, and instead of touching the stem with a couple of fingers, he would startle and wrap his hand around the flower, reducing it to ashes in a matter of seconds.
Despite his deepest attempts to do good, the shop owner still feared the scarred man, which meant he didn’t have the courage to charge Shigaraki for the dozens of plants he’d destroyed. The ex-villain really didn’t want to have to pay for a dozen dead roses that he couldn’t even use.
“Please stop staring at me,” he finally groaned, hanging his head. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just need some damn flowers, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Skeptical, the other patrons nodded and slowly backed away from the blue-haired man, giving him space. With three gentle fingers, Shigaraki plucked a handful of (f/color) flowers from their vase before shuffling up to the counter to purchase them. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants, withdrawing his wallet and flopping it open. The cashier rang up his selections and voiced the total, and Shigaraki sighed at the shakiness of his words. He slid a bundle of bills across the counter and picked up his now wrapped bouquet with four fingers, sauntering out of the shop without waiting for his change.
Luckily for him, the hospital was a short walk from the florist. He didn’t trust himself driving after all of the anxiety from the last hour, and he needed the fresh air if he was going to enter a hospital full of emotional citizens.

He reached the tall white building and sighed to himself. He couldn’t imagine the people inside offering him any better reactions than those inside the flower shop. He should be used to it by now, he mused. But then, society should know that he was no longer a villain by now.
Shigaraki stepped inside, heading straight for the reception desk. At least the receptionist didn’t shriek or run from her desk at the sight of him. He’d been present when you’d been admitted, and they had informed him of when he would he able to return to visit you.
“(Y/N) (l/n),” he murmured, and the receptionist nodded.
“Room 309,” she offered with a soft smile. “Down the hall to the right, you’ll find the elevator. Go up to the third floor, go down the hallway to the left, it’ll be on the right hand side.”
Shigaraki nodded, clutching the flower bouquet as tightly as he could with four fingers. He followed her instructions, pressing the “up” button to summon the elevator. He stood motionless until it arrived, slipping inside quietly. He tapped the button for the third floor and waited impatiently for the shaft to take him there.
Stepping off the elevator, he turned to his left, spotting the appropriate hallway. His heart pounded in his chest as he padded closer to your room. Glancing up at the numbers beside the doors, he found 309 and steeled himself. He knocked gently, listening for your voice.
“Come in.”
Using only a few fingers to turn the handle, he shouldered open the door, letting it fall closed behind him. He stepped around the privacy curtain so that he could see you, and a soft smile graced his chapped lips.
“Hey you,” you greeted with a grin. Your chest was wrapped in bandages, and you were sitting up, propped up against the pillows.
“Hey,” he returned, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Like a weight’s been lifted,” you giggled. “Seriously, though, I feel amazing.”
He nodded. “That’s good. You look good.”
“Aw,” you grinned. Shigaraki wasn’t great with compliments, or comfort, or emotions, but he really tried with you, and you had learned how to decipher his personal brand of affection. Glancing down, you spotted a patch of (f/color) on his lap. “Are those for me?”
A soft blush was evident on his fair skin, and he nodded frantically. Lifting it carefully, he passed the bouquet to you, crimson eyes falling to his lap shyly.
“Oh, Tomo,” you cooed, bringing the flowers to your nose to inhale their scent. “They’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you, Tomo.”
His blush deepened at the nickname. You had started it early on in your relationship, and he had fought it hard in the beginning. After several months of your insistence, he grew fond of it, and eventually stopped protesting.
“I’m glad,” he murmured. “It was awful trying to get them.”
You frowned, tilting your head. “What? Why?”
He exhaled a sigh. “People.”
You understood immediately. You knew how hard he had struggled to give up his villainous life, and you knew that majority of society refused to believe it. He had ceased being evil for the desire to be with you, though you hadn’t required it. You’d gotten an apartment together, under your name of course, and he gave up the League of Villains. His crew was rather angry, but with a threat of wrapping all five of his fingers around their throats, they gave in and let him go.
His right hand was balled in a fist, and you took it in your hands. His gaze shot up to your face immediately, alarm evident in his eyes. Even after three years, he was still hesitant to touch you, or let you close to his hands.
You carefully uncurled his fingers, one by one, until his hand was flat. You then pressed his palm and fingers to your cheek, leaving his thumb extended, and placed your hands over his.
“I love you,” you murmured, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. “I know who you are, Tomura. I know you’re trying. I know you’re not going to just snap and become a villain again. Even if the world never believes in you, I always will.”
Careful to keep his thumb away, Shigaraki leaned in, his eyes falling closed as he brushed his lips against yours. You responded immediately, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You rested a hand on his cheek, humming into his mouth before he pulled away just enough to look at you. His nose nudged against yours, and you giggled softly.
“I love you, (y/n),” he murmured.
“I love you too, Tomura,” you returned, leaning in for another kiss.

Chapter Text

Reading – Ben x Harry
Lady_Luly
Words: 1,405

It had been six months since Ben and Harry had graduated from Auradon Prep. A little over one year since the two had finally stopped dancing around their feelings and decided to become an official couple. Six months since Harry had moved into the castle with Ben, sharing his room and his bed, adjusting to being treated like royalty because, hello, he was Ben’s life partner and wasn’t going anywhere.
It had been a year and a half since Ben and Harry first met, and while they had both grown and matured over the years, Harry still had many triggers of his past, things he didn’t discuss with anyone. Ben, through trial and error and persistence, had learned the best coping mechanisms for the former pirate, learned how to take care of him better than he could have ever cared for himself. But Ben wasn’t around all the time. He was busy – running a kingdom took insane amounts of time and energy. Harry understood that, but he came from a different background. He was used to taking what he wanted when he wanted it, and not being granted Ben’s devoted attention by simply demanding it was upsetting.
Harry knew that Ben loved him, possibly more than he loved Ben. But insecurity was an ugly, unbeatable monster that liked to rear its head every now and then, poking and prodding at his brain when he was alone. He felt like Ben had no time for him, and there were days when that was true. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t intentional, that the king was simply busy. But his insecurities wouldn’t let him think so. He wondered if Ben was tired of him, if he regretted taking a pirate as his boyfriend, if he was distancing himself on purpose.
That was when the nightmares came back.
When he’d first come to Auradon, he’d had horrible nightmares, nearly every time he tried to close his eyes. It would leave him screaming and sobbing in his bed, his throat raw from overuse, knuckles turning white from how tightly his hands fisted in his sheets. His roommate, Gil, slept like the dead, so he never awoke to check on his traumatized comrade. But Ben could hear the screams, and after a few nights in a row of being awoken, he crept out of his room and sneaked his way to Harry’s, letting himself inside.
He would sit on the edge of the bed, his hips near the pirate’s, and study his contorted features, his open mouth and arched back. Then he would reach out, placing a gentle hand on Harry’s chest. Harry had shaken him off at first, but Ben was persistent. He kept going with gentle touches and soft whispers that everything was going to be okay. He moved from patting the pirate’s chest to stroking his cheek, carding his fingers through sweat-soaked hair. The gentleness of his caresses calmed Harry’s raging subconscious, and at first, he’d remain asleep, calm for the rest of the night.
After a week or so of this treatment, however, Harry began waking after his night terrors faded. He would wake to find himself in his dark dorm room, lying on his bed with too-soft sheets, the prince’s hand on his face or in his hair, his chestnut brows knitted together in an expression of concern.
At first, Harry had panicked. He’d kicked Ben away, demanding to know what the hell the prince thought he was doing. When Ben remained on the floor, hands raised in surrender, softly explaining that he’d heard the pirate screaming and had only come to check on him, Harry calmed down. He allowed Ben to sit on the edge of his bed, offering protection until his exhaustion kicked in and he fell back to sleep.
Another week passed before Harry decided he didn’t like waking up alone. Another nightmare, another scream, another reason for Ben to sneak out and creep into the pirate’s room. Only this time, when Harry awoke and found himself gazing into dimly-lit hazel eyes, he reached out and wrapped his slender fingers around the prince’s wrist. Ben had glanced down in surprise, gulping audibly as he questioned, “Are you sure?”
Harry had responded by sliding to the far side of his bed, snug against the wall, leaving plenty of room for the brunet to crawl in beside him. And crawl he did. Ben slid under the covers, lying stiffly on his back beside Harry, wanting desperately to hold him but uncertain of how much contact he could get away with before he lost a hand.
He didn’t have to question it for long, as Harry settled in beside him and fell fast asleep, his head on Ben’s shoulder and one leg hooked around his, keeping him locked in place.

After Harry and Ben moved into the same room, Ben quickly discovered a trick to keep Harry’s nightmares at bay. It didn’t stop them entirely, but he spent fewer nights waking in terror than he used to.
Every night, once they were in their pajamas (a t-shirt and boxers for Ben, a pair of sweatpants for Harry), Ben would pick out a different book from his library. He kept his amusement to himself that Harry enjoyed being read to like a small child, that it made him feel safe and lulled him to sleep. Ironically, the most effective books were the fairytales – stories of Ursula and Ariel, Gaston and Belle, Maleficent and Aurora. He especially loved correcting the details, offering the villain’s point of view, and his favorite was when Ben would chime in with corrections to how his parents really met as opposed to what was written. As long as they didn’t touch the subject of Captain Hook and Peter Pan, Harry was perfectly content to let Ben read to him.

Ben was exhausted when he returned to the room he shared with Harry. He’d endured half a dozen meetings throughout the day, each one beginning just as its predecessor ended. He’d had hardly a moment to himself to collect his thoughts, and he was missing his pirate desperately.
He found Harry sitting on their bed, dressed in his choice of pajamas and cradling a mug of steamed milk and a splash of vanilla – another trick Ben had introduced him to in order to calm his nerves and stave off the nightmares.
“You're finally back,” the former villain commented softly, gazing up at the king.
“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” was Ben’s reply, distracted as he struggled to unbutton his coat.
Rolling his eyes, Harry rose from his seat and stood before his boyfriend, nimble fingers quickly working at the stubborn buttons. Harry had grown adept to stripping the prince early into their courtship.
The brunet offered him a tired smile as the last button was opened, freeing him from confines of the stiff fabric. “Thanks, love.” Once the coat was neatly placed on its hanger inside the closet, he peeled off his dress shirt and tossed it into the laundry hamper. He fished a clean t-shirt from his dresser and slipped it on before unzipping his slacks and letting them fall to his feet. They joined his dress shirt in the dirty laundry before Ben crawled into bed beside Harry, who had reclaimed his earlier seat with his mug in his hands.
“What’ll it be tonight?” the king questioned softly, pulling the covers over their laps and gesturing to the pile of fairytales on the bedside table.
Harry reached out to the stack, rummaging through them before uttering a decisive grunt and relaxing against the pillows. He offered his choice to Ben, sipping his milk while the brunet opened the book.
101 Dalmatians.
You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, but Harry had a weak spot for dogs. Once the residents of Auradon had accepted him as one of their own, his favorite pastime was assisting Carlos in caring for Dude, bathing and brushing the mutt as often as he was allowed.
Ben cleared his throat and began to read, while Harry snuggled into his side and followed the words on the page as they flowed from his boyfriend’s mouth. He hummed softly in contentment, finishing his beverage and setting the mug aside so that his arms were wrapped securely around the brunet.
He fell into a blissful sleep that night, free of night terrors and full of warmth.

Chapter Text

Fire – James Griffin
Redandgoldgirl
Words: 1,893.

The trunk of James’ SUV closed with a thump, securing your belongings alongside everyone else’s. Your senior year of high school began in just one week, which meant that it was time for the yearly end-of-summer camping trip that you and your friends always took.
For the second year in a row, James had been nominated for transportation due to the car he’d received for his sixteenth birthday. Before anyone was of legal driving age, Lance’s mother had happily offered her chauffeur services. Having as many children as she did required an SUV similar to the one James now drove, which made her the perfect transportation while the teenagers were working towards their licenses.
“Shotgun!” Kinkade shouted, reaching for the door handle of the passenger seat.
Lance elbowed him in the side, earning a grunt of vague pain. Kinkade turned to the brunet, poised to protest, but the Cuban teen placed a hand over his mouth and tilted his head in your direction. Kinkade took the hint and glanced around Lance, catching you leaning against the trunk of the car, chatting about something inaudible with James. A soft blush dusted your cheeks, and James grinned in the way he only did when you were in sight.
Kinkade smirked knowingly, sharing a glance with the Cuban whose hand was still plastered to his face. The dark-haired boy stuck out his tongue, pressing it to Lance’s palm, and the brunet yelped in disgust, retracting his hand and wiping his friend’s saliva on his jacket.
Lance opened the back door, crawling into the middle seat beside Keith. Pidge, Hunk, and Nadia were stationed in the third row, and Kinkade slid in next to Lance. James rounded the car, opening the passenger door and allowing you inside. You smiled shyly at him as you stepped up, accepting his empty hand to keep your balance. He closed the door as you tugged the seatbelt across your chest, watching as he took his place in the driver’s seat.
“Everyone ready to go camping?” James called as he turned the key and the ignition roared to life.
Cheers and yells sounded from the other passengers, and you giggled at their enthusiasm.

When you reached the campsite, another chorus of cheering erupted through the car. James put it in park and killed the engine, and everyone scrambled to the closest door. James shuffled to your side and opened the door for you, offering you a hand of assistance. You accepted it with a grin, stepping down.
“You know I’m capable of getting in and out of cars on my own, right?” you teased.
He chuckled. “Of course. I just thought you might like the help.”
“Well, thank you,” you murmured, your grin fading to a shy smile.
“Alright!” Nadia chirped loud enough to catch everyone’s attention as she shuffled out of the third row of seats. “Everyone remember the tent pairs?”
It had been decided at the beginning of summer how the four tents would be divided – Pidge and Hunk, Lance and Keith, James and Kinkade, and you and Nadia. This was the simplest solution that left nobody feeling uncomfortable – however, as Nadia eyed the expressions of her friends, she wondered if the tents would be reassigned. Kinkade and Keith were stationed evenly on either side of Lance, both enthralled in every word that left the Cuban’s mouth. You stood as close to James as physically possible, and from Nadia’s point of view, the brunet was just a second away from brushing your (h/c) locks behind your ear.
“I think your pairs are being ignored,” Pidge chuckled, standing beside Nadia.
“Maybe James will finally tell (y/n) how he feels,” Hunk mused with a soft chuckle.
Nadia shook her head doubtfully, slinging the strap of her duffle bag onto her shoulder. She padded away from her classmates, headed towards the smoothest ground in order to begin pitching her tent. Pidge and Hunk followed, though Pidge did majority of the work once Hunk opened the tent bag.
“Let’s go,” Lance suggested, nodding for Keith and Kinkade to follow. He grasped his backpack in one hand and his tent in the other, shuffling over to where Nadia and Pidge were pitching their tents. He tossed down the bags and followed suit, laying the fabric of the tent on the ground and pulling the stakes from the bag.
Time ceased to exist as you gazed into the eyes of the brunet you so desperately had a crush on. They seemed to sparkle every time he laughed, and the soothing tone of his voice made your knees wobble like they were made of Jell-O.
“Hey, Shirogane!” shouted Nadia’s impatient voice.
You cut yourself off mid-reply to something James had said to turn and glare at your friend. Everyone in the group knew you despised being called by your last name. You were your own person, thank you very much – not just the younger sister of Garrison High’s legendary athlete.
“Yes, Razavi?” you spat back.
She only grinned. “The tents are all set up, and I don’t know if you lovebirds noticed, but it’s getting dark.”
Pidge cackled somewhere behind her, and heat splattered across your cheeks. You turned your gaze to the sky to find that it was indeed a much deeper shade of blue than it had been when you’d arrived, and ribbons of pink and orange were beginning to swirl around as the sun settled down for the evening.
“I guess we should get to the camp, get dinner going,” James commented awkwardly, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
You nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
You pointedly ignored Nadia as you retrieved a blanket from your duffle. Wrapping it around your shoulders, you returned to the fire pit, where James and Kinkade were laying logs and twigs and attempting to ignite them.
Kinkade’s lighter conveniently ran out of fluid, and before he could curse under his breath, Keith scoffed. Rolling his eyes, the raven-haired boy extended a gloved hand, offering his own lighter to the cause.
Kinkade accepted it sheepishly, lighting a crumpled up ball of newspaper in order to set the fire pit ablaze. You sat down on the ground, watching the growing embers, only half aware of a presence beside you. Turning your head, you found Hunk sitting there, with Pidge on his other side.
“Hey,” you greeted.
“Hey, (y/n),” Hunk smiled.
“You in charge of food again?” you grinned. The large brunet had been dubbed the camp cook for the last couple of years.
He laughed, but before he could reply, Pidge cut in.
“You need to tell James how you feel.”
For the second time that day, you sputtered, and your face heated up in a way that was definitely not caused by the fire.
“Excuse me?” You nervously glanced around, ensuring that no one else had heard her.
“Tell James that you like him,” Pidge repeated in a no-nonsense tone, a sharpened stick in one hand while the other held a marshmallow preparing to be impaled.
“I don’t know what you-“
“Everyone can see it, Shirogane,” Nadia added, dropping down on the other side of Pidge. “Everyone but James. And we can all tell that he’s super into you.”
You chewed your lip, shyly gazing up at the brunet who was skewering hot dogs with sticks and passing them around. You exhaled a soft sigh, dropping your glance back down to your lap.
“Are you sure he’s interested?”
Your voice was so soft that your three accomplices almost didn’t hear it.
“Absolutely,” Nadia replied, at the same time that Hunk chirped, “Totally!” and Pidge grunted, “Duh.”
Before you could fathom how to confess, James dropped down beside you. He offered you a smile and a speared hot dog before holding his own over the open flame.
“Mind if I intrude?” he grinned.
“You’re not intruding,” you murmured, accepting the stick and holding it parallel to his. When you turned your head to try and distract yourself from how close the brunet was and how good he smelled, you found that your friends had abandoned you, finding new seats on the other side of the fire pit. There was a good three feet of space on your side as well as James’, leaving you rather secluded.
Nadia, Hunk, and Pidge sent you encouraging grins and obnoxious hand gestures, to which you responded with the deepest glare you could muster.
The night continued rather smoothly, everyone eating and sharing stories and discussing their plans for the upcoming year. A cold wind settled in, causing you to wrap your blanket tighter around your torso. The soft fabric did little to protect you from the chill, and you shivered visibly as you gazed into the slowly dying fire.
“Cold?” James questioned softly.
“I-I’m f-fine,” you stuttered, teeth beginning to chatter.
The brunet chuckled. “Sure you are, (y/n).”
He opened an arm, fist closed around the corner of his own blanket. He wrapped it around you, tugging you into his warm torso and soothing your shivers. You sighed in contentment, relaxing in his hold. A glance around the fire told you that everyone had already gone to bed – the tents were dark, and the spaces on the ground where your friends had previously been sitting were now empty.
“We’ve been abandoned,” you murmured softly, tilting your head to look up at James.
“So we have,” he smiled. “I was kinda hoping we would be.”
A soft smirk played on your lips. “And why would you hope for that?”
He ducked his head, leaning in until his nose brushed softly against yours. “Do you want me to tell you, or can I show you?”
Your breath hitched in your throat as his breath ghosted over your lips. “Show me,” you decided breathlessly.
He closed the gap, gingerly pressing his lips to yours. The arm around your shoulders tightened, and his other hand softly caressed your cheek. You melted into the kiss, heart pounding inhumanly fast in your chest – you briefly wondered if he could hear it. Every nerve in your body tingled, warmed by his presence and his touch.
He broke the kiss with a soft inhale, smiling softly at you. You gazed up at him, eyed half-lidded as you struggled to grasp that the moment was actually happening, not just another daydream.
“What does this make us?” he inquired softly, the hand on your cheek lifting to slide through your hair.
“We can figure that out tomorrow,” you grinned.
He chuckled, nudging your nose with his before kissing you again. You responded eagerly, lifting a hand to hold the side of his neck. He hummed against your lips, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. You soon lost track of time, much more interested in chasing James’ lips in the moonlight.

When you finally decided to head to bed, you reluctantly parted ways... Until James unzipped his tent to find it empty, and discovered that Kinkade had squeezed in with Lance and Keith, the two dark-haired teens in a constant battle over the Cuban. That left an empty space for you, and you giggled softly when James offered it.
Eternal teasing followed the morning after when you emerged from James’ tent instead of your own, but you ceased caring as the brunet wrapped his arms around your waist and everything settled down.

Chapter Text

I Missed You Kiss – Harry x Carlos
Words: 2,843

Though deciding which children from the Isle would be included in the next batch of Auradon transfers was a royal responsibility and therefore assigned to Mal and Ben, the King and soon-to-be Queen employed the opinions of Mal’s closest friends to finalize the decision. The Core Four knew most of the Isle residents on a personal level, so their insight was greatly appreciated in determining whose children deserved a chance to be good.
“I know she and Mal aren’t on good terms,” Evie began, ignoring the glare from her purple-haired best friend, “but I believe Uma should be one of the next four.”
“She was angry that she hadn’t been chosen already,” Ben agreed with a nod. “I’d prefer to bring her here before she plans another kidnapping.”
“Who says she’ll want to come now?” Mal argued. “Ben’s right – she was pissed. She probably still is.”
Evie placed a gentle hand on her arm. “I think you two need to finally settle the score. You’ve been at odds long enough, and you’re both at fault.”
While Mal sighed stubbornly, Jay lifted his head to join the discussion. “She won’t come without her crew.”
“Which leads me to my next suggestion,” Evie beamed. “I want to invite Gil and Harry Hook, as well.”
Ben scribbled down the names. “Dizzy, Uma, Gil, Harry. That makes four.” He glanced up at Evie uncertainly. “But will they want to come? Harry seems to enjoy causing trouble.”
Carlos chewed the inside of his lip, his soft chocolate gaze darting between the King and his blue-haired friend.
Evie nodded eagerly. “He does, but I believe there’s good in him. He’s a villain because that’s how he was raised. It’s how we were all raised. He may take a while to adjust, but I believe things will work out.”
“Gil will definitely want to come,” Carlos chuckled. “He was always the least villainous.”
“Then it’s settled,” Ben smiled. “Thank you all for your help.” He turned with a soft frown towards Mal, who had her arms crossed over her chest. “Mal, it will be good for Uma to have a chance at being good. Maybe you two can try being friends.”
The purple-haired girl scoffed but didn’t reply. “Alright, we’ve chosen the next four. Let’s send the invitations.”
As the meeting adjourned, Carlos followed his friends out of the room, catching Evie’s sleeve to pull her back a step. Mal and Jay continued on, unaware, while Evie turned to look at the youngest VK.
“Carlos?”
He offered her a soft smile. “Thank you.”
She tried to fight a smile, but her lips betrayed her. “What for?”
Carlos rolled his eyes. “Suggesting Harry. You may have had valid reasons but I know you did it, at least in part, for me.”
Evie grinned. “I know you miss him. I didn’t want to out you and tell everyone why, but Ben would have agreed immediately if he knew.”
“Thank you,” the younger said again. “I just hope Harry isn’t mad at me.”
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Evie sympathized, rubbing her friend’s arm.
They slowly began to follow in the direction that Mal and Jay had gone, and Carlos lost himself in thought.

Heavy pants of hot breath filled the alley behind Curl Up and Dye. Carlos’ back was pressed against a dusty brick wall, dying the white fur of his coat an ash grey, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Harry’s rough hands gripped his slender hips, squeezing hard enough to bruise. The hook he usually gripped in his hand was looped into his belt, granting him full groping access. The pirate’s tongue swirled inside Carlos’ mouth, sucking every coherent thought from the younger boy’s mind.
His own hands fisted in Harry’s leather vest, holding the pirate as close as humanly possible. His right hand released the fabric, sliding up his smooth neck and curling into the midnight brown locks at the back of his head. Harry growled in response, his left hand trailing down to the hem of his partner’s shirt. His slender fingers slipped under the hem, rough skin dancing over Carlos’ abdomen. The shorter boy whimpered desperately, arching his back to press closer to the pirate.
Their lips parted with an obscenely wet sound. Carlos’ eyes slowly fluttered open, chocolate orbs gazing up into icy blue. Harry’s forehead rested on the younger’s, his tongue running across his own upper lip as he grinned.
“Impressive, de Vil,” the pirate chuckled. “I didn’t expect yeh to be such a good kisser.”
The shorter boy blushed softly. “I didn’t expect you to be my first kiss.”
Harry raised a brow. “First, eh? I’m honored.”
Carlos was hesitant to reply, his gaze dropping to where the pirate’s hands were still holding his hips and rubbing his skin. The latter caught the shift in his expression and tilted his head curiously.
“What is it, Carlos?”
The younger’s head snapped up in surprise. “You’ve never used my first name.”
Harry would deny the heat that rose to his cheeks, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “Ye’re different… Special. Thought that maybe using yer name would express that.”
“Special?” Carlos repeated. “So this isn’t… we’re not… you want to continue this?”
Thick eyebrows furrowed, and blue eyes narrowed. “Of course I want to continue. Did yeh think I was just fooling around?”
The younger bit his lip. “I was hoping you weren’t, but I wasn’t sure what you thought of… us.”
Harry removed his hands from Carlos’ waist, and the shorter worried that he’d offended the pirate. His worries were calmed when his own hands were enveloped by leather gloves and warm fingers, thumbs running over his knuckles.
“I’m not good with… feelings,” Harry mumbled, grimacing as though the word was rotten food in his mouth. “I know I’ve been a jerk to yeh in the past. I thought that being rude to yeh would push yeh away and make me forget how I felt. Clearly it didn’t work.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that you liked me?” Carlos’ voice was soft, uncertain.
The pirate snorted. “I know what yer friends think of me and ma crew. They’d skin me alive just for flirting with yeh. I’m not scared of ‘em or nothing, but if they found out I liked yeh, they’d keep yeh as far away from me as they could. I like having access.”
The younger boy chuckled softly. “Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. So what… what are we?”
Harry nudged Carlos’ nose with his own, tilting his head up in order to claim his lips in a surprisingly soft kiss. “What are the kids calling it now? Dating?”
Carlos would deny how his heart fluttered. “I’d love that.”
The pirate grinned, kissing him harder. Just as he tilted his head to deepen the gesture, a demanding voice was heard in the distance.
“Carlos! Where are you? Is Harry picking on you again?”
Harry sighed against his partner’s lips. “The dragon is calling yeh.”
The younger boy sighed. “I have to go.”
Harry pressed a final chaste kiss to his lips. “Go. We’ll meet again tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Carlos smiled. He bid Harry a soft goodbye before taking off around the corner and meeting up with his gang in the street. Harry lingered in the alley, listening into their meet-up to ensure that they weren’t giving the youngest villain too hard of a time for being away. He was the protective sort – he wouldn’t stand for Carlos taking extra heat just because Mal didn’t approve of his extra curricular activities.

Carlos and his friends had gotten their invitations to Auradon the next day. The “tomorrow” that he and Harry had promised each other was stolen, and he the only time he’d seen the pirate since was when they’d rescued Ben from Uma and her crew. Harry hadn’t been outwardly rude, but he’d also avoided contact with Carlos beyond a taunting greeting.

A few days later, Carlos stood nervously outside beside his friends. Mal and Ben stood in the front, with Carlos and Evie to one side and Jay on the other. Evie’s hand on the younger boy’s shoulder was meant to be comforting, but his heart rate only skyrocketed as the limo slowed to a stop alongside the curb.
The back door opened, and the first teen to exit the car was a vision of teal and brown. Uma sneered at her surroundings, glaring at the girl in purple who stood beside the King. Close after her was Gil, all boundless energy and dopily grinning at his surroundings. Dizzy squeezed her way out after the blond, squealing loudly as she bolted forward and launched herself into Evie’s open arms. Carlos smiled warmly at the sight, wishing in the back of his mind that his reunion with Harry would be that heartfelt.
The pirate was hesitant to exit the limo, his eyes nervously darting around his surroundings. His gaze settled an equally anxious-looking De Vil in the welcoming committee, and his heart skipped a beat without his permission. He forced himself from the vehicle, slowly sauntering up to stand beside his fellow pirates. His eyes continued to drift towards Carlos, and he frowned when he realized the younger boy was avoiding his gaze.
“Welcome to Auradon,” Ben smiled. “I know some of you may not want to be here, but I honestly believe this will be a good fresh start for you.”
Uma scoffed, and Harry pretending to be equally as appalled.
“Dizzy and Uma, Evie will show you to your dorms,” Mal instructed, struggling to keep the irritation from her voice. “Harry and Gil, Carlos will show you to yours.”
Carlos’ head shot up as though this plan hadn’t already been discussed. “What?”
Mal only smirked in response.
Dizzy continued to cling to Evie as the blue-haired girl led her and Uma unto the building. Harry moved to stand before Carlos, hands clasped awkwardly behind his back. Gil stood beside them, excitedly chatting about the leaves on the trees and the fruit growing on the bushes.
“Uh… follow me, I guess,” Carlos murmured. He spun on his heel without meeting Harry’s eye and headed inside, only checking that the two were following him by the sound of their footsteps.
Harry and Gil were assigned to share a room, so Carlos only had one stop to make. He stood outside the door that had a plaque attached displaying both of their names.
“Here’s your dorm,” the youngest boy stated softly. “Cafeteria is down the hall. Every dorm has a bathroom. Ask Jay if you have any questions.”
“Thanks!” Gil grinned, taking one of the keys that Carlos offered to him and opening their door. He began exploring, exclaiming all of the amenities that they hadn’t been accustomed to on the Isle.
As Carlos turned to leave, a hand caught his shoulder. He froze in his spot, knowing that he was the only one for whom Harry removed his hook.
“Carlos,” came a soft, sultry voice. It sent a not unpleasant shiver up the younger boy’s spine. Still, he didn’t respond, looking away from the pirate and trying to calm his racing heart.
“Carlos,” Harry tried again. “We have things to discuss. Yeh know that. Don’t ignore me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Carlos lied, mentally cursing the tremor in his voice.
Harry sighed behind him, and the younger boy could visualize the pirate dropping his gaze to the floor.
“Please,” the pirate whispered breathlessly.
Carlos winced. He’d never heard the taller boy plead for anything in his life. Sighing, he slowly turned to face the brunet, his gaze hesitant and shy.
“Fine. Come on,” he told his former partner. He gestured for Harry to follow, leading the pirate back to his dorm. He knew that Jay would be sparring with Lonnie for at least a few hours, leaving the room empty for his and Harry’s taking.
Once they were inside, he closed the door behind them. Carlos lingered awkwardly in the middle of the room while Harry crossed his arms and leaned against the door.
“What did you want to talk about?” Carlos inquired without meeting the other’s gaze.
Harry snorted. “Yeh know what, pup. We had a thing going, the two of us, and then yeh left to come here. What are we gonna do about that?”
“What do you want to do about it?” Carlos couldn’t help but snap. “I’m sorry I left. I wanted to meet you that day, to kiss you in an alley away from my gang and your crew. I wanted to continue what we started. But my friends were all going to Auradon, and I wanted to get as far away from my mother as possible. I wanted to write to you, to visit you, but I left without a word and I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me.”
Harry frowned. He pushed himself off the door, crossing the room in two quick strides to stand before the younger boy. His hands grasped either side of Carlos’ face, holding his anxious gaze. “I thought about yeh every day after yeh left. I was so torn up about yeh being gone that I confessed to Uma and Gil. They’re the reason I agreed to come to Auradon – so I could see yeh again, and hopefully continue what we started back on the Isle.”
Carlos’ chocolate eyes widened, and his hands slowly rose to cover Harry’s. “I thought about you, too,” he murmured, fully aware of the pirate’s face moving closer to his. Their lips were just a centimeter apart, and every fiber of Carlos’ being was telling him to dive in.
Keeping his hands on the younger’s face, pulling him into the most passionate kiss they’d ever shared. Carlos sighed desperately into the kiss, his hands dropping to the pirate’s waist. He tugged Harry’s body as close as he could, and the taller boy eagerly stumbled forward to accommodate his companion. Their lips parted and met repeatedly in a haze of tongues and teeth, until they finally required full breaths and pulled apart just enough to rest their foreheads together.
“I missed yeh,” Harry whispered hoarsely, one hand sliding into Carlos’ hair, carding his fingers through it.
“I missed you too,” the shorter boy countered, hands fisting in Harry’s coat as though he were afraid the pirate would disappear when he opened his eyes.
At the taller’s request, they shuffled towards the bed, moving to lie down on it. Harry lied on his back, opening his strong arms to Carlos. The latter accepted eagerly, curling unto the brunet’s side and resting his head on his broad chest.
That’s where Jay found them some hours later when he returned from training, and he would admit to snapping a photo of their snoozing cuddles to send to Mal, Evie, Uma, and Gil later.

Chapter Text

Book Shop – Harry Hook
Words: 1,994

Anyone who knew Harry Hook on even an acquaintance level would claim that he was nothing but bad news, and he would readily agree. He wasn’t overly affectionate. He wasn’t particularly sensitive. He didn’t plan dates or regularly use his phone. He didn’t care hardly at all for good grades or making friends or being socially appropriate.
Yet, for some reason, you were undeniably attracted to him.
When he came to Auradon with his crew, he took an obvious liking to you. You brushed him off at first, learning from Mal and her friends that Harry was a shameless flirt and generally not serious in his advances. Your resistance only encouraged him to try harder, sitting with you at lunch and passing you notes during the classes you shared. Uma and Gil were insistent that something about you was different, that Harry wasn’t just entertaining himself, but Mal didn’t agree. Still, the more the pirate flirted, the deeper into your attraction you fell.
When he finally asked you out on a date, few people were surprised when you said yes.

That was six months ago, and Harry wasn’t much better of a boyfriend than anyone expected. In his defense (because Uma would defend him against the preppy haters that roamed Auradon), you were his first official girlfriend. In addition to being inexperienced, you came from different worlds. Your parents were good – you weren’t a VK from the Isle. The silly pranks and lighthearted pickpocketing that Harry thought was hilarious only made you mad. He didn’t know how to impress you beyond flirting.
Your birthday was fast approaching, as everyone loved to remind you. You were seated at lunch with Jane, Carlos, Evie, and Doug when it was mentioned again.
“What are your plans?” Doug inquired innocently.
Refusing to meet his eyes, you shrugged. “Might take the day for myself. It’s been a while since I’ve had some alone time.”
“Harry isn’t planning something?” Jane, ever the optimist, questioned cheerfully. “Ever since Carlos and I got together, he’s planned the best birthday parties for me. He spends weeks working on them!”
You visibly winced, slumping in your chair and glaring down at your tray of food.
“Did I say something wrong?” Jane wondered, brows furrowed.
Evie sighed softly. “Harry isn’t exactly… the party type.”
Carlos gave his girlfriend a look, and the brunette made a quiet noise of realization.
“(y/n), I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you, I just assumed-“
“People assume a lot of things,” you cut her off bitterly. “It’s fine, guys. You all warned me. Maybe Uma was wrong. Maybe Harry…” You swallowed thickly. “Maybe he’s not really interested. Maybe he’s just passing time. It’s whatever, really.”
“I have an idea,” Evie offered sweetly. “If Harry doesn’t do anything, I’ll take you to that new book shop that just opened up. I heard Belle donated a ton of books from her and Beast’s collection.”
Your head slowly lifted at her words, and you offered her a weak smile. “Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Evie.”
“What are friends for?” the blue-haired girl beamed.

A few tables away, Harry sat with a dumbfounded expression. “She thinks… she thinks I don’t care about her?”
Uma’s brow was quirked as she looked between her first mate and your table. “Sounds like it. You haven’t really been acting like you do.”
The brunet’s brow furrowed. “What do yeh mean? I spend time with her, don’t I?”
Uma rolled her eyes. “How often, Harry? Outside of class? Do you hang out with her on weekends? Text her throughout the day? Have you taken her on a single date since you asked her out?”
Harry’s cheeks burned a deep scarlet and he ducked his head, avoiding his captain’s gaze. “I… I didn’t know girls really liked all that. I didn’t have to do any of that to her with her, yeh know?”
The sea queen exhaled a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Most girls like that crap, Harry. Especially Auradon girls. She isn’t some criminal from the Isle ready to raise Hell with you. Girls like (y/n) want to be wooed.”
Harry threw his head back with an uncharacteristic whine. “Alright, alright. I get it. What do I do, then?”
“Steal Evie’s idea,” Uma replied with a shrug.
“What idea?”
She leveled him with a glare. “Weren’t you listening? Evie said that if you didn’t take care of your girl on her birthday, she was gonna take (y/n) to the new book store.”
The brunet tilted his head. “Who actually enjoys going to the book store?”
“Your girlfriend does!”
Harry winced. “Alright, I’ll take her. Yeh don’t have to yell at me.”
“When classes are out, go find her, spend the afternoon with her, and tell her you have a surprise planned for her birthday,” Uma instructed.
“Aye,” the brunet agreed with a nod.

As you sat alone in your room, a knock sounded on your door. Intrigued, you rose from the bed to see who had come searching for you. You couldn’t deny the surprise in your chest when you saw your pirate boyfriend standing on the other side of the doorway.
“Harry?” you greeted slowly.
He offered you a toothy grin. “Hello, love.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Word floating around Auradon is that yer birthday is this Saturday,” the brunet stated nonchalantly.
“Yeah?” you nodded, uncertain as to why your birthday was suddenly an important subject. “What about it?”
Harry frowned at your tone. Guilt crept through his chest knowing that his actions, or lack thereof, had put you in such a bad mood.
“I’ve got a surprise for yeh,” he smirked. “Get dressed up if yeh like. We’re going out.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. “You- We- What?”
He chuckled softly, leaning forward so that his torso crossed the border into your room. He tilted his head, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. “Saturday, love. One o’ clock, alright?”
Your skin heated pleasantly where it had been kissed. “Yeah, sounds good.”
He offered you a wink before he spun on his heel and sauntered away, leaving you stunned and standing in your doorway.

Saturday arrived, and there was nothing you could do to calm your nerves. You dressed simply in a fitting t-shirt, denim shorts, plain leggings, and high-top sneakers. Unlike your friends, you didn’t dress similarly to your parents. You preferred to display your own style. A nagging voice in the back of your mind told you that it was too preppy, too good to impress Harry, that he’d take one look at you and swim back to the Isle. You firmly told said voice to back the hell out of your date. Harry had asked you out, after all, and he knew you were a good person.
At one o’ clock, knuckles rapped on the other side of your door. Glancing at the time on your phone, you were surprised to see that the pirate was perfectly on time. Inhaling deeply, you opened the door to find a rather well-groomed Harry Hook. His black jeans were still torn, but more stylishly and in fewer places. His shredded shirt and leather trench coat had been replaced by a grey button-up and a deep maroon leather blazer. His signature hook had been left in his room, his eyeshadow was thinner and less messy, his deep brown waves had actually been brushed (Uma must have helped, you were certain), and his lips quirked in a confident smirk. Though, as you gazed into his icy blue eyes, you found a hint of uncertainty.
“Wow,” you exhaled. “I had no idea you could clean up so nicely.”
He cleared his throat, heat rising to his tan cheeks. “Uh, yeah, well..” He stood up straighter from where he’d been leaning against the door frame. “A beautiful lass like you deserves a quality date with a gentleman, not minimal effort from a withered pirate.”
You frowned, stepping forward and resting your hands on his chest. “What are you talking about, Harry?”
He met your worried gaze and exhaled a sigh. There was no way he could pretend everything was fine now. “People have been telling me that I haven’t exactly been a proper boyfriend to yeh.”
Guilt pooled in your chest. “What people, Harry?”
He shrugged. “Uma, Evie, Mal… all of yer friends, really.”
“Harry…” Your hands dropped to take hold of his, and you gazed softly into his eyes. “You’re not a bad boyfriend. Okay, maybe you’re not really affectionate like Ben. You don’t plan a lot of dates like Carlos. But you’re a different person. I love that you’re a pirate. I love that you’re cocky and sneaky and dangerous. I don’t need a prince, Harry. I chose a pirate.”
Afyer a moment’s hesitation, Harry leaned forward, tilting his head and pressing his lips to yours. You gasped at the sudden gesture, snaking your arms around his neck. It wasn’t the first kiss you’d shared- kissing, for certain, Harry was comfortable with and talented at- but it was unexpected, and you could feel the emotions behind it.
“Come on, lass,” he murmured against your mouth. “We’ve got a date to get to.”
You beamed at him, closing and locking the door behind you. He took your hand in his, lacing your fingers as he led you down the hallway. Students passing by sneered at your choice in partners, but you simply flipped them off and snuggled close to Harry’s side. He laughed loudly at your response, pressing a kiss to your head every time.
“We’re here,” he announced, and you took in the sights. A gasp fled from your mouth as you realized that the building in front of you was the brand new book store.
“Harry, this is amazing! But how did you-“
He scratched at the back of his neck. “I may have overheard Evie talking to yeh about it. I remembered that yeh like to read and thought maybe yeh’d enjoy coming here with me.”
You threw your arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. “I love it.”
He laughed as he returned the hug. “Let’s go in, then.”
You led him inside, soft noises of awe and wonder sounding in your throat at every turn. Harry couldn’t help but grin as he watched you file through every row, explaining the plot lines of the ones that you’d read, and holding a collection of books you yearned to experience. Harry insisted on taking the growing pile from you, carrying it around like a gentleman should.
Belle, who’d arrived to donate more of her own collection, found the two of you wandering around. She smiled fondly at the sight of a softer Harry Hook, and she stepped up beside him while you lost yourself in a new genre.
“I’ll give you a discount,” she informed him, chuckling softly when he jumped in surprise.
He turned to face her with a confused expression.
Belle simply nodded towards you. “She’s never been this excited about anything. This is the sweetest thing you could have done for her.”
She sauntered away, leaving Harry blushing and staring off into nothing.
“Hey,” came your voice in front of him. He turned his attention back to you, chuckling at the size of your stack.
“I’m not getting all of these,” you explained sheepishly. “I just need your help deciding.”
“Yer getting as many as yeh want,” he countered. He led you to a nearby table and sat down. “I’ll still help yeh, though.”
The light in your eyes was worth every cent that he possessed. You spent the afternoon reading summaries and reviews of every book, until your collection had been significantly reduced. When you were content with your selections, Harry paid for them, at a promised discount, and assisted you in carrying them back to your room.
Harry ended up falling asleep on your bed, in your arms, as you read books aloud to him.

Chapter Text

School Dance – Sweet Pea x Fangs
Multifangirl69
A/N: This isn’t set during any particular season or episode, just obviously after the Southsiders joined Riverdale High. It doesn’t really follow the timeline, cuz it’s a while after the merger but they’re still being bullied.
MY LAPTOP WORKS. Y’all don’t know how excited I am. I’ve had half of this chapter written FOREVER, like back when I first published this series, but then my laptop died and I really didn’t want to try rewriting 600ish words.
Words: 1,350

Sweet Pea was uncharacteristically quiet as he unlocked the door to his trailer, leaving it open for Fangs to follow behind. The shorter boy kicked the door closed behind him before he padded after Sweet Pea, heading to his bedroom. The pair sat quietly together, facing one another but each gazing in a different direction.
They’d been dating for nearly six months now, completely under wraps. Not even Jughead or Toni knew of their coupling, and they intended to keep it that way. The Ghoulies had enough ammo against them – they didn’t need to risk their lives publicizing their relationship. Plus, the transition into Riverdale High had been hellish enough with Cheryl Blossom and Reggie Mantle breathing down their necks. They just wanted to survive until graduation. When they had the means to run away from Riverdale and never look back, they could go public.
But life was never that simple. The end of their junior year was fast approaching, and with it came junior prom. Girls and boys alike were gushing day in and day out about their dresses or tuxes, their dates and their flowers, who was breaking up and who was taking their relationship to the next level. It was, frankly, sickening, especially to a couple of tough guys like Fangs and Sweet Pea, who couldn’t express that they were even capable of emotions lest they subject themselves to even more bullying than they’d already endured.
Sweet Pea was the first to sigh as he leaned against his headboard, his cocoa-colored eyes glaring up at the ceiling. Before him, Fangs frowned. He recognized the expression on his best friend’s face. He hated when the tall Serpent was upset, especially when there was absolutely nothing he could do to assuage it.
“What’s bothering you the most?” Fangs inquired softly, reaching out to grasp Pea’s hand. Sweet Pea returned the gesture, lacing their fingers.
“Everything,” the taller boy admitted. “Those damn Bulldogs. Principle Weatherbee. Prom. Just everything.”
Fangs nodded softly, toying with the many rings decorating his boyfriend’s fingers. “Do you want to go?”
Sweet Pea tore his gaze from the ceiling, offering the shorter male a confused expression. “Go where?”
“To prom,” the latter replied, meeting Pea’s gaze. “Do you want to go?”
The tall biker was quiet for a moment. “They’d never let us. We’re still being outcasted just for being Serpents – it’ll be worse if they find out we’re gay in a public forum.”
“Nobody bullies Keller,” Fangs countered. “Come on, Sweets. Let me show you off. Our whole lives are about protection and hiding. Let me spend a night dancing with my boyfriend.”
Sweet Pea was doomed. He could tell by the tone in his boyfriend’s voice that Fangs wasn’t backing down. That, combined with the big, innocent puppy dog eyes the shorter Serpent was employing, was enough to break him down.
“Fine,” he laughed, shoving his boyfriend’s shoulder in order to break his stare. “We’ll give it a shot.”
Fangs grinned in triumph, lunging forward to tackle Sweet Pea into the bed. The taller male caught him easily, resting a hand on his tan face. Fangs leaned forward, capturing Pea’s lips with his own, humming at the warmth and familiar taste. Sweet Pea rolled over, flipping their positions, pinning Fangs into the mattress.

Prom night arrived, and the entire town was buzzing with gossip and excitement. Sweet Pea and Fangs hadn’t told anyone they would be in attendance – they wanted to surprise their friends on arrival. Toni had been questioning them about going, since she had planned to go by herself and show the Northsiders just how well Serpents behaved in a party setting, and all she’d received was a “I’ll think about it” from Sweet Pea. Betty had convinced Jughead to come along, and he, more than he would ever admit, wanted the presence of his newfound friends alongside him.
Students were filing into the gym, their prom tickets being checked at the door by one of the teachers. A DJ was stationed up on the stage, blasting a rather impressive setlist through the speaker system. Toni lingered just outside the entrance, arms crossed and eyes glued to the double front doors of the building.
Betty and Jughead entered, approaching the female Serpent and flashing their tickets at the door guard.
“Aren’t you going in?” the blonde inquired sweetly.
Toni shook her head. “I’m waiting for the guys. They might bolt when they see how crowded it is in there, and I’m not going to risk it.”
Jughead nodded in understanding. “We’ll find a table and save you a seat.”
The pink-and-brown-haired girl nodded, watching them saunter inside before she turned her attention back to the door.
After what felt like hours, two tall, familiar forms entered the building, clad in matching black tuxes and looking more groomed than Toni had ever seen either of them. She raised a brow as they paused to have their tickets checked, her eyes scanning their ensembles.
“You guys look great,” she complimented. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you get dressed up.”
The expressions of barely-concealed embarrassment on their faces was worth however long Toni had been leaning against the wall waiting for her crew. With a grin, she took Sweet Pea’s hand, failing to notice that Fangs had hold of the other, and led them into the gym.
“Jughead’s already here,” she informed them. “He and Betty said they were going to find a table. What took you two so long?”
Fangs offered a playful head nod in the taller Serpent’s direction. “Convincing him to come.”
Without looking at them, Toni quipped, “You make it sound like you asked him on a date and he refused to answer.”
When they didn’t immediately correct her, she turned around to face them. “Guys, I was just-“ It was then that her eyes caught sight of their clasped hands, and her lips parted to release a soft “Oh.”
“I am so stupid,” she whispered. “How long has this been a thing? How could I not have noticed? No, scratch that – how could you not have told me?”
“We didn’t tell anyone,” Sweet Pea insisted.
“It’s nothing against you,” Fangs assured her. “We just didn’t want it getting out to anyone else. The Ghoulies are merciless enough and the stupid Bulldogs have been treating us like target practice. We didn’t need to give either of them any more ammo.”
Toni frowned, but after a moment of consideration, she sighed. “Alright, fine. That makes sense. But you so owe me an explanation of how this all started.”
As they approached the table and found Betty sitting alone, claiming that Jughead was fetching them drinks, Toni turned to whisper to her friends. “Can I tell Jughead?”
The boys shared a look, before looking at Toni, then at Betty, and finally at Jughead, who had just returned to the table. They offered the female Serpent a nod.
Before Toni could open her mouth to reveal the news, the beat of the music changed to something that Fangs recognized immediately. His eyes lit up, and he gazed up at Sweet Pea with the most little-kid-on-Christmas-morning expression that anyone had ever seen. With a roll of his eyes and a smile tugging his lips, the taller brunet nodded, allowing his boyfriend to lead him to the dance floor. They danced hand-in-hand, occasionally pressing close or twirling to the beat, uncaring of the prying eyes glancing at them every so often.
One set of eyes belonged to Jughead. He turned to Toni with furrowed brows as he set plastic cups full of unidentified juice on the table. “Uh… Toni?”
The brunette chuckled softly. “They’re dating, Jones. I just found out myself. I plan to pump them for information as soon as they’re done being adorable.”
She took a seat at the table, watching her friends dance lovingly with one another, and she wondered how the hell she hadn’t noticed their closeness until tonight.
Oh well, she mused. She’d get the full story later. For now, she’d let them have fun and be gay.

Chapter Text

Stargazing – Kaoru Hitachiin
SuicidalConnorMurphy
A/N: Male!reader. High school AU.
Words: 2,517

A contented sigh tumbled from your lips as you gazed up at the clear night sky. Stars had only just begun to decorate the field of midnight blue, allowing you to count each and every new appearance. Winter had faded, making way for spring to approach, so the nights were slowly but surely growing warmer and more pleasant.
It wasn’t too late- with winter came earlier sunsets and longer nights- but you felt as though time stood still as you sat on a swing in the park. Your eyes were closed, your head tilted up towards the sky. Your arms were limp by your sides, your feet softly dragging the ground beneath you. Everything was calm, serene, peaceful.
In the silence of the night, you could hear footsteps slowly approaching, and your heartbeat quickened. You froze in place, prepared for an attacker to attempt abduction. The footsteps drew closer until you were certain they were just to your left, and you braced yourself for a quick escape.
Until a soft sigh was heard, and the chains of the swing beside you squeaked softly in protest of being strained.
Opening one eye, you glanced to your left, stifling a gasp in surprise at the sight that met you. Sitting on the swing was one Kaoru Hitachiin, spoiled rich kid and Ouran Academy heartthrob. Looking at him fully, you couldn’t help but tilt your head and wonder what business he had sitting in the park at night, without his escort or his guard or even his twin brother.
“Hitachiin?” you called gently. No one called the upperclassmen by first name, as much as you wanted to. “Kaoru” was such an adorable name, and it wasn’t as though the rich students tried to hide their identities. It was just a sign of respect, referring to them by their surnames until you were granted exclusive permission to call them something more intimate.
The orange-haired boy opened his eyes and turned to meet your gaze. To your surprise, he offered you a lazy smile. This soft side of the younger Hitachiin twin puzzled you – he was normally loud, flamboyant, giggly, friendly. He wasn’t a jerk like the other rich kids, and he was definitely the kinder of the twins.
“Hey, (l/n),” he greeted. A shiver snaked its way down your spine at the sound of his voice calling your name, and despite sharing nearly all of your classes with him, you felt a twinge of surprise that he knew who you were.
“What, uh… What are you doing out here?” you couldn’t help but inquire. From what you understood, the rich kids had a strict schedule to keep, usually set in stone by their parents. You didn’t know any of them on a personal enough level to understand the details, but what little you had been made privy to was enough to have you appreciating your humble background. Many of the upperclassmen, especially the kind ones like Hitachiin and Suoh, only made friends through their money. Other students abused their connections, and once their parties were over and their requirements were met, they never spoke to their so-called “friends” again.
Hitachiin chuckled softly, as though the answer were obvious. “Enjoying the stars.”
You were hesitant to question further. A million thoughts swirled through your head, but you felt as though you had no right to voice them. Though, you supposed, he could always leave if he was uncomfortable or offended by your curiosity.
“I can see that,” you countered. “I just meant-“
“What’s a spoiled trust fund kid doing out past curfew, sitting in the park without an escort?” he finished for you, and you were grateful for the darkness and its ability to hide the blush crawling up your neck.
“Uh… yeah.”
He chuckled again, his gaze turning up to the sky. You couldn’t help but follow suit.
“My parents don’t know I’m out here,” he murmured softly, as though it were a secret – which it probably was. “My brother doesn’t even know. I wait until everyone in the house is asleep; Hikaru, our parents, our bodyguards, the maids. Then I come out here to look at the stars.”
“Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
He turned his eyes back towards you again, and you felt yourself growing weak the longer you looked into them. “It’s peaceful. I don’t have to be Mr. Hitachiin out here. I don’t have to be Hikaru’s brother, or the heir to the Hitachiin business, or the upperclassman that everyone only wants to befriend because he has money.”
Your heart ached with sympathy. “I’m sorry you have to endure that,” you murmured. “I don’t know what it’s like, obviously, but… If you ever need to talk about anything…”
You trailed off, dropping your gaze to your lap. What would the attractive Kaoru Hitachiin want to talk to you for, anyway?”
His swing squealed as he rose to his feet, and you tried to hide a wince. You’d scared him away. Your once chance at getting to know who he really was, and you’d ruined it.
A hand entered your peripheral vision, and you turned your head to view it fully. Hitachiin stood beside you, arm extended, palm open, a soft smile on his lips. You hesitantly placed your hand in his, noting with butterflies dancing through your core how warm it was. As you stood, you hesitantly met his eyes, catching the way they sparkled despite the lack of light around you.
“I should go,” he whispered. “I try not to venture out for too long. Hikaru can sense when I’m gone.”
You nodded dumbly, hanging onto his every word. “I’m sorry if I said anything out of line-“
He held up a hand, and you closed your mouth. “You said nothing wrong, (l/n). I was actually thinking… Maybe I could see you again? Tomorrow night, same time?”
Your heart nearly broke out of your chest, and you offered another nod. “Y-yeah. That sounds great.”
He grinned. “Awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“See you tomorrow,” you managed before he turned on his heel and took off away from the park.

The following night, you waited patiently at the park, sitting in the same swing you had before. You chewed your lip absent-mindedly as you gazed up at the stars, hoping against all hope that Hitachiin would really come back.
You heard footsteps behind you and, unable to contain your excitement, you turned around to face your companion. You saw him approaching and stood from your swing, waiting for him to get close enough for you to greet him.
“Hey, (l/n),” he beamed.
“Hey, Hitachiin,” you returned.
He approached the swings, but instead of sitting down, you reached for his hand. Confused, he offered his own, and you ignored the tingle that spread through your limbs as your fingers brushed his.
“How about we sit on the field?” you suggested. “It has a better view of the stars.”
He grinned and nodded his approval, letting you lead him across the park to the large field that families often used for kite flying or frisbee throwing. You sat down, crossing your legs and gently tugging him to follow suit. He complied, instead stretching his legs out before him, sitting much closer to you than you had anticipated.
“You’re right,” he purred softly. “This is much nicer.”
You gulped softly, nodding before turning to gaze up at him. “So I-I didn’t offend you yesterday, right?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. It was actually kind of nice to talk to someone who wanted to know the real me, not the rich Hitachiin offspring.”
“I’ve never cared much for money,” you shrugged. “It doesn’t make a person.”
He smiled softly. “What’s your story, then? I’ve seen you around, you know, hanging out with Haruhi.”
You stared at him with wide eyes, wondering how he knew your best friend and how Haruhi could have not mentioned that she and the cutest boy in school were on a first-name basis.
“Haruhi?” you repeated. “Yeah, I’ve known her since grade school. We kind of grew up together.”
There was a glimmer of sadness in the taller boy’s eyes. “That sounds nice.”
“Do you not have… childhood friends?” you asked, wincing at how harsh your words sounded.
Hitachiin didn’t seem to notice as he shook his head. “The only person I’ve grown up with is Hikaru. Our mom was… strict, regarding our day-to-day lives. We didn’t even have casual friends – still don’t.”
“That’s awful,” you murmured.
He was quiet, and you took a moment to admire him. His soft eyes were blurred with a mix of emotions, his strong jawline seemed tight as though he were biting his tongue.
“If you’d like,” you began softly, shyly glancing down at your lap, “I could be your friend.”
He turned to look at you, frowning when you wouldn’t meet his eyes. His soft hand grasped your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. You resisted biting your lip as you stared at the intensity in his golden eyes.
“I’d love that,” he breathed.

After what felt like hours, it was time for him to return home. You were reluctant to see him go, but you needed to leave as well, and you didn’t want either of you getting in trouble.
“Same time tomorrow, (l/n)?” he called over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” you agreed. “But maybe you could call me (y/n), instead.”
He stopped and turned around, the shyest hint of a smile on his lips. He offered you a mock bow, grinning on the way back up. “Only if you call me Kaoru.”
Your heart hammered in your chest. “Deal!”
You parted ways, more excited than you expected for the next night to come.

Your rendezvous continued on like this for the next week. After dark, you would meet in the park, you always arriving first. You’d sit with Kaoru, still unable to believe that you were on a first-name basis, either on the swings or on a bench or in the field. You’d watch the stars and discuss whatever topic came to mind, neither of you shy or offended or guarded.
It was perfect.
You made your way to the park one night, surprised to see a mop of orange hair already awaiting you. Kaoru was seated on the field, which had become his favorite place to think. You sauntered up beside him, dropping to the ground in a cross-legged position.
“Mind if I join you?” you inquired.
He turned to grin at your arrival. “Not at all.”
“What should we talk about tonight?” you prompted, allowing him the choice since it was usually you that began your nightly conversations.
He was hesitant to reply, and you worried that something might be wrong. Before you could question it, however, Kaoru turned to face you.
“Did you and Haruhi ever date?”
You blinked, processing the question before huffing out a soft laugh. He seemed stifled by your amusement.
“No, we never did,” you assured him, shaking your head. “Why do you ask?”
“Hikaru has been… interested,” Kaoru replied slowly. “He’s also been pushing me to find out if she’s available, and I knew that you two were close, so I didn’t want to overstep my bounds by asking if she was single, if the two of you were together.”
“She’s single, but no offense to your brother, I don’t know if she’d be interested,” you countered. “She’s kind of picky with who she’s attracted to, and she hasn’t had a crush on very many people in the years I’ve known her.”
“Is that why you two never…?” Kaoru trailed off, knowing that you would understand.
You were hesitant to reply. “That, and…” You exhaled a sigh, turning away from the taller boy. “She’s not my type.”
“Oh?” Kaoru’s interest had been piqued. “What is your type then, (y/n)?”
Chewing your lip, you swallowed the lump in your throat. “First and foremost… Male.”
The boy beside you exhaled, and your hopeful heart could have sworn it was a sigh of relief. You hesitantly turned your head to glance at him, and found him fiddling with his sleeves.
“I was kind of hoping you’d say that,” he murmured.
Your heart skipped a beat. “And why’s that?”
He shifted closer to you, one hand coming to caress your jaw. You leaned into his touch, never breaking his gaze.
“Because my type is male, shorter than me, (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes. He’s funny, and smart, and sweet, and real, and he doesn’t just want to get to know me for my money or my background. He’s genuinely interested in who I am, and I’ve spent every night this week looking at the stars with him by my side.”
“Kaoru…”
“Please tell me I’m not reading too much into this,” he murmured, almost desperately. “I’ve been dying to talk to you, (y/n), but I didn’t think you’d be interested, and I was afraid of being taken advantage of again.”
“Kaoru, you’re not reading too much into it,” you assured him, and his soft eyes lit up hopefully. “You’re my type, too.”
He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours, so close that you could feel his breath ghosting over your mouth.
“Can I kiss you?” he murmured, and it took every ounce of willpower you had not to lunge forward and tackle him to the ground.
“Please,” you exhaled, and he took the plunge, kissing you softly and passionately all at once. His hand slid to the back of your head, holding you in place. The hand he’d been using to prop himself up came to rest on your hip, gently fisting in the fabric of your shirt. You rested both of your hands on his chest, feeling his smooth, toned build through his clothing. He tilted his head, kissing you deeper and running his soft tongue along your bottom lip. With a gasp, you granted him access, melting into his arms when his tongue slipped into your mouth. It danced with your own, swiping along the roof of your mouth and the back of your teeth.
Growing lightheaded from the lack of air and the intensity of the kiss, you reluctantly pulled back to inhale. Your eyes fluttered open, gazing up at Kaoru.
“Will you be my boyfriend, (y/n)?” he murmured. “We’d have to keep it a secret, until I graduate and my parents no longer control me. They don’t approve of anyone who doesn’t come from money, and I don’t want them to judge you. I care for you so much, (y/n).”
You silenced his ramblings with a soft kiss. “Of course I will, Kaoru. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t want this. I don’t mind keeping it a secret. We can keep meeting up like this, away from your family’s watch.”
He nodded. “That sounds amazing.”
He kissed you again, and you lost yourself to his touch. You didn’t know how long you’d spent in the park this time, but neither of you could find it in yourselves to care.

Chapter Text

Seductive Kiss – Hatsuharu Sohma
A/N: Male!reader. Smut. Gay smut. Semi-public sex.
First time writing gay smut. Here goes nothing. See you in Hell.
Words: 1,923

A soft hum sounded in your throat as you curled into Hatsuharu’s chest. You were both positioned on your sides, cuddling on a grassy field in the park. Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist, your face buried in the fabric of his shirt. His arms wound around your upper back, one hand toying with your hair as his chin rested atop your head.
His nose nudged your forehead, leading you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. Instead, you were met with warm lips on yours, and it only took your lips moving against his for the kiss to turn hungry. One of Haru’s hands caressed your cheek, holding your face close enough to kiss. He slid a knee between your legs, rubbing ever so subtly against your manhood. You whimpered in his embrace, your body turning to putty in his hands, relinquishing all control to the black-and-white-haired boy.
Without warning (though you were expecting it), Haru shifted so that he hovered above you, one arm supporting his weight. Teeth and tongues battled for dominance as your back hit the ground with a soft thump. You quickly forgot your location, too lost in tangling your hands in fluffy white hair and grinding your hardening length onto a black denim-clad thigh.
Hatsuharu’s free hand skimmed down your side, dancing across your form and leaving goosebumps in its wake. His warm, calloused hands slipped under the hem of your shirt, and that snapped you awake.
“Haru,” you gasped, turning your head to break the kiss. “Not here.”
“Hmm?” the taller male murmured, his eyes glazed over with lust. He shook his head, scanning the area with a smirk in his lips. “Heh. Sorry, babe. Got carried away.”
He stood, taking your hands in his and pulling you to your feet. Keeping your fingers laced, he dragged you through the grass, towards the sidewalk where a small brick building was stationed.
“You can’t be serious,” you gaped as you realized where your boyfriend was leading you.
He turned to you with a wicked grin etched into his features as he tugged the handle for the handicapped restroom. The door opened, and he led you inside, locking the door behind you.
“How convenient,” Haru smirked, and looking around, you understood. Along the right wall, attached to the sink, was a steel counter.
Before you could respond, you were pinned to the wall, and Haru’s mouth was ravaging yours. He wasted no time in sliding his hands under your shirt, his fingers sliding across your skin. You whimpered into the kiss as he toyed with your nipple, running the pad of his middle finger over it until it hardened. You bucked your hips, desperate for the friction that Haru was intent on denying you. He knew the teasing drove you insane – and that it would intensify the orgasm later. He would make you forget you were in a public restroom – hell, he’d make you forget your own name by the time he was done.
“Haru,” you murmured breathlessly as his lips peppered kisses down your neck. Your head fell back against the wall, offering him all access. He bit down on the hollow of your neck before sucking on the spot, leaving a mark of possession behind.
“Yeah, (y/n)?” the taller male whispered, and you could hear the smirk on his lips as he tugged your shirt up your torso and over your head. You offered no resistance, allowing him to discard it onto the counter that would later come of use.
“You’re a jerk,” you stated breathlessly as he ducked his head, his lips latching onto your soft nipple. You gasped loudly as his tongue swirled around the hardening bud, his hands steadying your hips and keeping you close. You clawed at his shirt, haphazardly tugging at the fabric until it complied and began shifting up his torso. He chuckled at your attempts, detaching himself from your chest in order to stand up and tear off his own shirt. Your teeth gnawed at your lower lip as you gazed at his half-naked form, running your hands down his perfectly toned abs. He hummed in approval at your touch, returning his hands to your hips and tugging your pelvis towards his own. You groaned as your growing erections rubbed against one another.
“I think you like when I’m a jerk,” Haru whispered, and you caught the shift in his gaze. His eyes darkened, and Black Haru was slowly coming to the surface. You bit back a whimper. Sex with Black Haru was like nothing you could ever imagine. He was rough without being aggressive, dominant without being forceful. He employed every single one of your kinks when he went Black, and you always lost count of how many times you came by the time he was done.
His nimble fingers quickly worked at the button and zipper of your jeans, nearly tearing them apart in his haste. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops at your hips, dropping to his knees and pulling your jeans down your legs. He didn’t bother fully removing them, instead leveling his gaze with your half-hard arousal. Meeting your eyes, he stuck out his tongue, dragging it up the underside of your length. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your head fell back against the wall. You brought a fist up to bite down on, moaning into it so that your desperate sounds of appreciation didn’t echo throughout the room. Haru smirked, taking your entire length in his mouth until his nose was buried in your small patch of curls. His hands kept your hips in place while he bobbed his head, his tongue swirling around your erection. Your hand found his hair, tugging harshly at the snow-white locks every time he hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard.
“H-Haru,” you gasped, already nearing your first release. The location, the urgency in your boyfriend’s eyes, the switch to Black Haru was all too much for you to handle.
His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips, and he tilted his head just right and bobbed it at the perfect pace, and you came undone. You barely whimpered out a warning before your seed was spilling down Haru’s throat, and he swallowed everything you had to offer.
You were panting and trembling as he stood back up, licking his lips and grinning wildly at you. He led you away from the wall, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you from falling over. Spinning you around so that your back was facing him, he bent you over the counter, giving him a delicious view of your shapely backside. He ran his hands approvingly over your lower back, before lifting one hand and delivering a swift smack to your ass. You whimpered at the contact, and Haru repeated the action. He unbuttoned his jeans and tugged his erection free from his boxers, letting it rub against your entrance, precum dribbling on your skin. You bit your lip in anticipation, wiggling your hips against his length.
He leaned forward, bringing his hand around to your field of vision. He placed his first two fingers between your lips, and you readily opened your mouth around them.
“Suck,” he demanded, and you moaned softly as you complied, coating his fingers with your saliva.
It was a routine you’d rehearsed time and time again when you were out of lube.
Satisfied, he withdrew his fingers, his left hand landing harshly on your ass as a reward. His now slick digits circled your entrance, teasing you for a brief moment before plunging into your heat. A groan sounded in your throat as you rocked back against his hand, stretching your entrance in preparation for his erection.
You’d had sex so many times, most of the time you hardly needed any stretching. It was usually when you were without lube that Haru insisted on prepping you, and even as Black Haru, his first concern was your safety.
Once he was satisfied, Haru removed his fingers, gripping your hips with both hands and lining himself up. The lighting in the small bathroom wasn’t great, but it was enough for him to see what he was doing. Without warning, he pressed into you, thrusting down to the hilt. You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, your walls tight around him as your arousal slowly lifted back to life.
Behind you, Haru growled, and that sound was enough for you to be hard and ready for another round. You rocked your hips as best you could to meet his thrusts, though your movements were limited as you were bent over and pinned to the steel counter. Your arms were outstretched before you, leaving you with nothing to clutch as the pleasure intensified. Black Haru was relentless, pounding into you rhythmically, thrusting as hard and fast as physically possible. You loved every second of it, whimpering and moaning and gasping beneath him. Your other senses faded as he abused your entrance. You could still taste his fingers on your tongue. All you could smell was his musky scent. Your moans and his growls mingled in the otherwise silent air. Your hands and feet were nearly numb as your entire body focused on Haru’s erection pounding into your ass.
“H-Haru…!” you whimpered, face pressed into the cool metal of the counter. Your climax was fast approaching, and you knew his was as well. He lost control the closer he got to his orgasm, and his thrusts were losing their rhythm. He wouldn’t be far behind you.
He pulled back and plunged in at just the right angle, and you were done for. With a loud cry of his name, your entire body shuddered, and your orgasm spilled onto the ground beneath you. Within moments, Haru followed suit, your name on his lips and his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You never minded the marks he left behind.
You chewed at your lip as you felt his seed filling you, and you could hear your boyfriend struggling to catch his breath behind you. He slowly withdrew from your entrance, leaving you weakly resting against the counter. He stuffed himself back into his jeans and zipped them up before kneeling down to retrieve your pants from where they were bundled around your ankles. As he slid them up your legs, he pressed a soft kiss to either side of your ass. Once your pants were situated, he retrieved both of your shirts from the floor, slipping his on over his head before helping you back into yours. He turned towards the sink, quickly washing and drying his hands. As he turned back to you, a smirk stole on his lips at the sight of how exhausted you were.
“Tired, (y/n)?” he teased, lifting you into his arms with ease.
You weakly swatted at his chest, earning a laugh that vibrated against your hand. “You know Black Haru always wears me out.”
“You know you love it,” he grinned, and only you would be able to catch the hint of insecurity behind his words, hoping that he hadn’t hurt you.
You offered him a soft smile, tilting your head up to kiss his jaw. “Of course I do.”
He returned to the field in which you’d previously been cuddling, setting you on the grass before sitting beside you. The park was relatively empty, so you were hopeful that no one had overheard your impromptu tryst.

Chapter Text

Night Beach – Tamaki x Kyoya
Alasdaring
Words: 1,589

Tamaki Suoh’s absolute favorite location was the beach.
Any opportunity he found to drag his fellow hosts to the seaside and subject them to an afternoon of sand and sun was immediately abused. They would often voice their displeasure, sometimes teasing, sometimes sincere, but it never fazed the blond. His heart soared and his brain relaxed when he stood on the shore, watching the tide wash over his bare feet.
Haruhi was the first to notice how much peace it brought the host king. He was calmer at the beach – uncharacteristically calmer. No whining, no emo corner, minimal squealing. He was a whole new person, and a large grin would find station on his lips if his friends enjoyed themselves, too.
The brunette brought it up to the “Mommy” of the group one afternoon, as the Host Club scattered along the sand. Tamaki was in the water, floating on his back beside Honey, who was tightly gripping the edges of an inflatable raft. Mori stood in the water beside his cousin, ready to rescue the smallest host should a wave ripple beneath him and capsize his raft. Hikaru and Kaoru were further out in the water, splashing one another and taking turns shoving the other beneath the surface.
“Tamaki-senpai really loves the beach,” Haruhi stated as she sat on a towel stationed beneath a large beach umbrella.
“I suppose so,” Kyoya replied distractedly, one hand clutching the edge of his black notebook while the other pushed the middle of his glasses further up his nose bridge.
The brunette tilted her head, gazing up at the bookkeeper. She exhaled a soft sigh, shaking her head. Even being in a relationship apparently wouldn’t change Kyoya’s focused nature. It had been a fight on Tamaki’s end just to get the raven-haired host to agree.
The two had been obviously pining for one another for months, and the other hosts had finally gotten tired of witnessing their desperation. It had been Haruhi who finally pushed them together.

They had been cleaning up one afternoon after all their guests had gone, and Tamaki was hopelessly flirting with Kyoya. The latter’s eyes were glued to his notebook, scribbling budgets and expenses and ignoring the blond entirely. Tamaki was merely a second from retreating to his emo corner when Haruhi stood abruptly, hands clenched into fists at her side, the same expression on her face as she had when Hikaru and Kaoru had their extensive fake fight.
“That’s enough!” the brunette yelled, earning the attention of every host. Honey had jumped at the sudden noise, clinging to Mori’s waist. The twins stood to attention, eyes wide as they darted between Haruhi, Tamaki, and Kyoya. Tamaki’s features expressed shock at Haruhi’s motherly tone, while Kyoya merely glanced up.
“Haruhi…?” the host king replied hesitantly, tilting his head in curiosity.
“I’m so sick of you two pining after each other!” Haruhi exclaimed. “Tamaki-senpai, you’ve been flirting with Kyoya-senpai for months. And Kyoya-senpai, I know you like to think you’re emotionless, but I can see that you like Tamaki-senpai too. So stop beating around the bush and ask each other out already!”
The room was deadly silent for all of a second before Hikaru and Kaoru squealed in agreement. They clapped loudly in unison, jumping in their places and screeching their agreement.
“Yeah, boss!” Kaoru nodded eagerly. “You two should date!”
“You’re the Mommy and Daddy of the Host Club for a reason, you know,” Hikaru added.
Kyoya’s pale cheeks blushed furiously, and his hand gripped his notebook so tightly it appeared to be on the verge of crumbling to pieces. Tamaki slowly turned to face his best friend, chewing his lower lip in an oddly shy nature – completely out of character for the boisterous blond.
“Kyoya?” he murmured softly, almost afraid of angering the raven-haired host.
Without a word, Kyoya took hold of Tamaki’s wrist, leading him rather forcefully out of the third music room. Nobody saw them for the rest of the afternoon, but when they met up the following day to continue their hostly duties, Tamaki proudly announced that the two had become boyfriends, and planned to go on several dates during the week.

Kyoya finally glanced up from crunching numbers to gaze at his boyfriend- the word still tasted foreign on his tongue- playing in the water. Genuine happiness was evident on the blond’s face, and the ghost of a smile stole Kyoya’s lips as he watched Tamaki.
It was decided, then and there, that he had a lot of making up to do.

It was the following night that Kyoya and Tamaki returned to the beach, this time without the audience of their fellow hosts. The blond was completely oblivious to his boyfriend’s plans – Kyoya had simply texted him, offering him a spontaneous date, and Tamaki had immediately accepted.
“Kyoya… what are we doing here?” Tamaki inquired softly, a smile evident in his voice.
The raven-haired boy turned to face him, adjusting his glasses as they strolled along the sand. “You love the beach,” was the only explanation he gave.
The blond was easy to please, and he beamed excitedly in response to Kyoya’s words. He eagerly led his boyfriend- the word still sent a shiver down his spine- out to the water, pausing on the shore to roll up his pants and slip off his shoes and socks. Kyoya stood still on the sand, content to simply watch his boyfriend enjoy the cool moonlit waters. As his brain thought over their brief relationship, and he glanced at the subtle pout forming on the blond’s lips, he realized that idly standing by would no longer be tolerated. With a stifled sigh, Kyoya reached down to slip off his shoes and socks and roll up his own pant legs. When he stood and met Tamaki’s eyes, the glow of his face and the grin on his lips as well worth freezing his toes in the ocean.
He allowed Tamaki to take his hand and lead him to the shoreline, standing where the sand was plenty damp but the waves would only just barely crash over the tops of their feet. Tamaki laced their fingers, squeezing ever so often as if to reassure himself that Kyoya was actually standing beside him.
Tamaki closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of the beach, lifting his head towards the night sky. Kyoya watched in masked fascination, awed by the fact that a simple trip to the beach could cause the blond so much pure happiness. He took a tentative step further, his dark eyes watching Tamaki’s reaction. The blond was expectedly surprised to find his boyfriend ready to venture further, rather than having to drag him along. Tamaki happily agreed, and they stepped far enough into the water that the waves splashed up their shins, just barely missing the bottoms of their rolled-up pants.
“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” Tamaki murmured as he stood beside Kyoya, amethyst eyes gazing at the sparkling ocean, “but why did you bring me here, Kyo? Why so suddenly? Why at night?”
The raven-haired host was quiet for a moment, and Tamaki worried he wouldn’t receive an answer. He was partially surprised when his boyfriend finally spoke.
“You love the beach,” Kyoya repeated from before. “It makes you happier than anything in the world, and I’ve realized recently that since we came to our current agreement, I haven’t been particularly… romantic towards you. I… I wish to make up for my behavior. I’ve never been in a relationship, Tamaki. My father has tried to set me up with daughters of his colleagues for the sake of producing an heir and merging companies, but I’ve managed to convince every one of them that I’m not the right fit. I know how to be a businessman, but a boyfriend… I’m lost.”
He used their linked hands to tug Tamaki closer to himself, turning to face him and wrapping his free arm around the blond’s waist. Tamaki smiled at the contact, his own hand resting on Kyoya’s chest.
“It was our trip to the beach yesterday that made me realize how distant I’ve been towards you. I spent the entire afternoon sitting in the shade, budgeting our next Host Club venture. Under normal circumstances, that would be expected and even acceptable of me. However… You and I are a couple now, and I need to express to you that you’re more important to me than business.”
“Aww, Kyoya,” Tamaki cooed, the blush on his cheeks hidden in the darkness around them. “Am I really that important to you?”
Kyoya leaned in, pressing his lips tenderly to Tamaki’s. The blond responded eagerly, humming into his mouth. They’d shared plenty of kisses thus far, but they’d never gone further than that. Kyoya was more inclined to kiss the blond than he was to hold his hand or sit on his lap, and while Tamaki was more than boisterous in his attention demands, he had no desire to make his new boyfriend uncomfortable or frighten him away, so he kept his distance unless Kyoya initiated contact.
Damn, he really loved when Kyoya initiated contact.
“I wouldn’t have agreed to this relationship if I didn’t feel something for you, Tamaki,” the raven-haired boy murmured, and the blond knew his words were honest.
They spent several hours walking along the wet sand, holding hands and sneaking kisses, until Tamaki grew tired and Kyoya escorted him home, bidding him goodnight with a passionate kiss and the promise of a next time.

Chapter Text

Surprise Kiss – Shiro x Lance
A/N: I don’t ship it, but it’s one of my boyfriend’s favorites. This is a surprise chapter to cheer him up.
AU in which Lance’s family didn’t survive the Galra invasion. You’ve been warned.
Words: 1,261

They’d done it. The paladins of Voltron had found a way home – back to Earth. As they piloted their lions, each of the humans discussed their respective first orders of business upon returning.
Everyone was excited for their family reunions, of course. Keith didn’t participate in that particular conversation – the only family he had was his mother, who was traveling in his company. Shiro hoped that nothing bad had become of Adam. Pidge squealed about finally seeing her mother and being reunited with her father and brother again. Lance and Hunk swapped stories about their siblings and wacky past adventures, though the Cuban had his friend beat, as his family outnumbered Hunk’s.
“I look forward to meeting all of your families,” Allura informed them as they touched down on Earth’s surface. None of them were prepared for the horror that awaited them.
Their beloved planet, their home, had been reduced to rubble. Entire towns were deserted. Had they not attended the Galaxy Garrison, none of them would have even recognized the land.
When they made their way to the Garrison, Shiro demanded to know what had happened. He then relayed what he’d learned to hid crew – the Galra had attacked, and there had been a devastating number of casualties. The paladins were heartbroken to hear the damage that the Galra had caused, and they all grew even more eager to ensure the safety of their families.
Hunk’s loved ones were missing, but Sam had promised him that they’d find them. All of Pidge’s family had, thankfully, been working and waiting at the Garrison. Keith lingered to the side with Krolia, Kolivan, and Cosmo, watching the heartfelt reunions.
When Shiro inquired about Adam, he had been hesitantly led to the former officer’s grave.
Lance’s hopeful gaze danced around the hundreds of bodies that filled the Garrison’s halls. Everyone seemed to be accounted for – so where was the McClain clan? He had quite a large number of relatives. They were rather hard to miss, even in a crowd this vast. They were loud and excitable, and his niece and nephew should have come barreling in with shrieks of “Tio Lance!” by now.
So… where were they?
Lance distanced himself from the reunion parties, searching for Voltron’s former leader. “Shiro… where’s my family? Have you heard anything?”
The white-haired pilot frowned. “Lance… I’m so sorry. I thought Sam had already told you-“
“Told me what?” the red paladin cut him off, thin brows furrowing as his midnight blue eyes narrowed into a glare. “What do you know, Shiro?”
The scarred man sighed, hanging his head. “The MFE’s were sent on a supply run,” he began softly, reluctantly. “They were supposed to get in and out without the Galra catching on but… something went wrong. They got separated by a rock slide, and Veronica…” Shiro sighed deeply. “Veronica didn’t make it back.”
Lance’s chest tightened. Tears welled behind his eyes, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of falling.
“What about the rest of them?” he demanded, his voice strained and quiet and he struggled to keep his composure. “My brothers? Rachel? My parents? My niece and nephew? Where are they?!”
Shiro winced. “The Galra…”
Sam, who’d overheard the latter piece of the conversation, padded soberly up to the brunet. “When the Galra invaded, many civilian lives were lost. I’m deeply sorry, Lance, but your family was on their way here, and they got caught in the crossfire when we tried to fight back.”
“So… my family…”
“They’re gone, Lance.”
The brunet was trembling. His slender hands were clenched into tight fists, and his chest ached. His heart felt like an iron hand had wrapped around it, squeezing until it shattered. He could no longer stave off the tears – they pushed past his lids and flowed freely down his cheeks. He pushed past the officers in front of him, sprinting down different hallways until he was as far away from everyone as he could possibly be.

That evening, while the other paladins tended to their families and reunited with their old classmates, Shiro went searching for Lance. He hadn’t seen the red paladin since he’d discovered the fate of his loved ones. Lance hadn’t been present for dinner or any of the officer meetings, and though Shiro knew the brunet needed his space, he was growing worried.
After searching the entire premises, the former leader ventured up to the roof of the building. A soft sigh escaped his lips at the sight that met him – Lance was seated by the ledge, knees drawn up to his chest, his arms secured tightly around them. The stillness of his form suggested that he’d ceased crying. That was a positive, at least.
Shiro quietly crept up until he was beside the red paladin. Without a word, he crouched down, sitting beside his teammate. Lance was quiet and stiff, but Shiro knew that his presence had been sensed.
“How are you holding up?” the scarred man inquired softly.
The man beside him sniffled. “My entire family is gone,” he murmured, his voice raw and cracked. “I was so excited…”
Shiro exhaled a sigh. “Lance… I’m so sorry. I get it. I came home to a gravestone instead of my fiancé. I completely understand how you’re feeling.”
The brunet lifted his head, turning his tear-stained face to gaze up at his idol. “What do I do now?” he wondered aloud, breathless and nearly inaudible.
Shiro’s brows furrowed in sympathy, and he extended his arm to wrap around Lance’s shoulders. He tugged the Cuban into his side, and the brunet melted against his chest.
“I know it’s not the same,” the former leader murmured, pressing his lips to Lance’s temple, “but we’re you’re family. The paladins, the Alteans, the Blades. We’re all here for you.”
“I know,” the brunet sighed softly with a nod. “I know I have all of you. I just…” His eyes grew watery, and he but his lip before continuing. “I was so excited to come home, Shiro. I was so excited to see my sisters, and my brothers, my parents, everyone.”
Shiro’s arm fell from Lance’s shoulders, and the latter glanced up at him in confusion. He studied the older paladin’s face, gasping softly when a warm hand came to gently grasp his chin. Before he could question Shiro’s motives, the older man had leaned in, his chapped lips pressing against Lance’s damp ones. Every coherent thought fled the brunet’s brain as he closed his eyes, losing himself in his teammate’s touch.
Shiro pulled back, slowly opening his eyes and gazing at the dazed expression decorating the Cuban’s features. His eyes widened and he leaned back, fear and concern etching onto his own face.
“Lance, I- I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have- I didn’t think-“
Rolling his eyes, Lance leaned forward with a hand on Shiro’s chest. His lips took the other’s hostage, molding together sweetly as they had done only seconds ago. The scarred man lowered his hand, securing his arm around Lance’s waist.
The red paladin pulled away, his tongue poking out to wipe the saliva from his lips. He stared up at his former leader, eyes sparkling in the setting sun.
Shiro smiled softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Lance’s. “Come talk to me if you ever need consoling,” he murmured softly. “We can talk, cuddle, kiss… Whatever you need to feel better. Okay?”
The brunet nodded. “Okay.” He ducked his head, burrowing it into the older man’s chest. They stayed there until Lance fell asleep, nuzzled in Shiro’s embrace.

Chapter Text

Comfy Cozy – Todoroki x Bakugo x Midoriya
Lee
A/N: I know katsudon is kind of overused in this ship but it’s canonically Deku’s favorite food and something that I cook particularly well.
Words: 1,196

Shoto Todoroki shuffled around the kitchen, mismatched eyes hyper-focused on the task at hand. He came to a stop before the stove, his left hand grasping the handle of a frying pan, his right wrapped around a spatula. In the pan, two breaded pork slices were nearly cooked. The third sat on a plate beside the stove, requiring its own cooking space as it had been rubbed in different spices than the other two. The rice cooker sat on the stove, steaming pleasantly as its contents simmered along.
Shoto was quiet as he cooked, soft music playing from the radio on the table. His partners were much livelier in the kitchen, and he supposed that he was more enthusiastic when in their company. Alone, however, he was calm, losing himself in his thoughts.
With two pieces done, he set them aside and moved onto the third. The rice cooker had switched itself off, signaling that the rice inside was ready for consumption. Shoto retrieved three bowls from the cupboard and dished the rice evenly into each of them before turning his attention back to the stove.
As he began cooking the eggs, his ears picked up the familiar sound of the front door lock clicking open, signaling that his lovers had returned home. They worked simple patrol shifts today, so he wasn’t expecting them home too late. At least, he was hoping they wouldn’t work very late. They’d all been extremely busy for past few months, and while he wasn’t usually the clingiest or neediest boyfriend, Shoto had been feeling pent-up. He wanted affection from his boyfriends, and he wanted it now.
Hands rested on his hips, and he knew without turning his head who was behind him. Izuku was always one for turning him around and burying his face into Shoto’s broad chest. Katsuki preferred to hold him from behind, his chin on Shoto’s shoulder, watching him work.
The duo-quirked boy sighed in contentment at the familiar gesture, leaning back into Katsuki’s hold. His two-toned eyes remained trained on the food cooking before him, but he tilted his head to the side to allow the blond behind him to pepper kisses along his neck.
“Smells good,” Katsuki murmured into his boyfriend’s shoulder, and Shoto allowed himself a small smile. Katsuki rarely complimented anyone, including his boyfriends, and he was especially picky when it came to cooking. Praising someone else’s food was the highest compliment one could receive from the explosive blond.
“Thank you,” Shoto replied. “How was work?”
“Boring,” Katsuki sighed. “Deku saved a kitten from a tree. I stopped a little kid from playing in traffic.”
“My heroes,” Shoto chuckled, earning a groan from the blond behind him.
“Mmm, dinner smells amazing!” came Izuku’s cheery voice as the shortest boyfriend entered the kitchen. “Shoto, you spoil us.”
The red-and-white-haired boy simply shrugged. “Last night I made Katsuki’s favorite. Tonight, I’m making yours. It’s nothing special.”
“And tomorrow, I’m making yours,” Katsuki replied with a cough.
Shoto spun on his heel, turning to face his boyfriend. “Tomorrow? Don’t you work?”
The blond grinned. “I got tomorrow off. It’s been quiet lately, so they don’t think they’ll need me on patrol. I’m on call if anything crazy happens, but I doubt it.”
“We actually get a day off together tomorrow?” Shoto murmured in disbelief. He couldn’t recall the last time that all three of the pro heroes had been home for an entire day together.
“Uh-huh!” Izuku chirped excitedly. Now that the tallest male was facing away from the stove, the green-haired boy was free to lunge at him, securing his arms around Shoto’s waist. The scarred boy smiled at the gesture, returning it lovingly before gently shooing the shorter boy away.
“Dinner’s almost done,” he informed his boyfriends. “Izuku, will you get the bowls?”
Izuku nodded, fetching three bowls from the cabinet and three spoons from the utensil drawer. Katsuki rummaged through the fridge to find three bottles of Ramune, placing them on the table alongside each dish.
Shoto served food to each of them before placing the pans he’d used in the sink to soak. The three heroes sat down to eat, chatting idly about one thing or another until they were done.

“I’ll do the dishes before we go to bed,” Izuku insisted, taking Shoto’s hands in his own when the taller male stood to move towards the sink.
“We’ve been gone all day,” Katsuki reminded. “We want to relax, Half n’ Half.”
Shoto smiled softly, allowing himself to be led to the living room. Katsuki sat on the couch and tugged Shoto down beside him, draping an arm around his shoulders. The duo-quirked boy sighed softly and snuggled into his side as Izuku fetched the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels until some old cartoon came on, and he set the remote on the coffee table, taking his place on the couch beside Shoto. He stretched his legs over the arm of the furniture, his head resting on the scarred boy’s lap. Shoto’s hand absent-mindedly weaved through Izuku’s hair, and a noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr emanated from his throat when Katsuki’s fingers scratched at his scalp.
“I’ve missed this,” Shoto commented, eyes drooping tiredly.
“So have I,” Izuku smiled, turning his head to gaze up at his boyfriends.
Katsuki simply smirked, his hand slipping down to massage Shoto’s neck. The red-and-white-haired boy melted under his touch, head dropping forward to offer Katsuki more access. The blond’s nimble fingers pressed into every knot in his boyfriend’s muscles, rubbing each one away until Shoto was no longer tense.
“Are you tired, Sho?” Izuku questioned, catching the sleepy expression on the older’s face.
“No,” Shoto murmured, unable to open his eyes or shake his head in protest.
Katsuki and Izuku chuckled in unison, and the shortest boy rose from the couch.
“Take him to bed, Kacchan,” he smiled, stretching out his arms. “I’ll clean up the kitchen and then join you.”
“Don’t take forever,” the blond ordered, though there was no heat to his words. He lifted Shoto easily into his arms, carrying him bridal style through their small house towards the bedroom.
He gently laid his unconscious boyfriend on their bed, pulling back the covers in order to tuck him in. He stripped out of his work uniform and pulled on a tank top and a pair of sweatpants before rounding the bed to his appropriate side and sliding in beside Shoto. Just as he made himself comfortable beneath the covers, Izuku quietly crept into the room. Smiling at the sight that met him, he peeled off his jumpsuit and pulled on a t-shirt and boxers. He slipped into bed on Shoto’s other side, curling against his shoulder and draping an arm across his abdomen. Katsuki slid an arm underneath Shoto’s head, allowing the scarred boy to nuzzle into his neck. The blond would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, though he’d never confess it aloud. His free arm rested across Shoto, his hand intertwining with Izuku’s.
“Goodnight, Kacchan,” Izuku yawned, closing his eyes.
Katsuki smiled softly, nuzzling into Shoto’s hair. “Goodnight, Deku.”

Chapter Text

Concert – Luka x Marinette
A/N: I’m in a serious Luka mood, you guys. I think he might be joining the ranks of Hatsuharu and Gaara, which means he’s becoming an eternal favorite.
Words: 3,269

“You’re going to the concert tonight, right?”
Alya’s voice shook Marinette from where she’d been lost in thought, her bluebell eyes glued to her phone screen. The news update she’d been reading hadn’t really come as a surprise, but it still squeezed her heart in a painful manner.
The blue-haired girl glanced up at her friend, who was standing before her with her hands on her hips. She offered Alya a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, of course I am. You know I wouldn’t miss it.”
“You’d better not,” her best friend warned. “I mean, you are the sole costume designer for Kitty Section, and every member of the band is a close friend of yours. It’d be pretty rude and unexplainable for you not to go.”
A light blush danced across Marinette’s cheeks. She’d hate herself for even contemplating not attending a Kitty Section concert. She shook her head, stuffing her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
“Don’t worry about me, Alya. I’ll be there,” she promised.
The brunette tilted her head, eyeing her best friend with a sympathetic gaze. “I always worry about you, Marinette. Don’t think I don’t know what you were reading so intently.”
Marinette’s blush darkened. “Wha-what are you ta-talking about, Alya? I-I was jus-just checking m-m-messages!”
The tanned girl giggled. “You only stutter when you’re trying to hide something. We’ve been friends for a long time, girl. I know you better than that.”
She sat on the bench beside her best friend, wrapping an arm around her and sighing softly. “It’s the news article, isn’t it? The one about Adrien?”
The blue-haired girl only turned to her with furrowed brows and a frown on her lips. They were all seniors now, and though it had been over a year since she’d confessed her feelings to Adrien and been politely rejected under the claim of him being in love with someone else, visual confirmation of the boy she’d loved for so long in the arms of someone else crushed Marinette’s fragile heart.
“You need to get over him, girl.”
“I know.”
Marinette’s phone had long since been set up to receive news updates regarding the city of Paris, in case a new villain emerged or Ladybug’s assistance was otherwise required. Unfortunately, she had yet to filter out the non-emergency articles, such as the one she’d received that day.

Adrien Agreste, son of fashion designer Gabriel Agreste, officially betrothed to Kagami Tsurugi.

“I just loved him for so long, Alya,” the secret superheroine sighed. “Everyone told me to go for it and tell him how I felt, and when I finally did…”
“He turned you away,” Alya finished for her best friend. “I know it hurts, girl. You just need a distraction. I know it’s gonna take time for you to get over Adrien, but you’re not going to get anywhere sitting at home, reading the news.”
“And you think I’ll get over him faster by going to concerts?” Marinette smirked, knowing full-well the ulterior motives behind the brunette’s insistence of her attendance.
“You might,” the occasional superheroine grinned. “You might meet someone – maybe even someone in the band.”
Marinette offered her a deadpan stare. “I already know everyone in the band, Alya. Rose and Juleka are a rockstar couple, and Ivan is very happy with Mylene.”
“You left someone out.” Alya’s grin widened.
Marinette’s blush returned. “W-well obviously Lu-Luka’s in the band, I m-m-mean he founded it a-and he’s Juleka’s brother and-“
“You’re stuttering hard, girl,” the brunette giggled.
The blue-haired girl inhaled deeply. “I do not have a crush on Luka.”
“Mhmm,” Alya hummed in disbelief. “You didn’t have a crush on Adrien in the beginning, either.”
Marinette’s eyes widened as she recalled how she and Adrien had first met. Forget not having a crush on him – she despised him, thinking he was one of Chloe’s lackeys. She chewed her lip, dropping her head to rest in her hands.
“I don’t have a crush on Luka,” she murmured, her words muffled by her palms.
“Who are you trying to convince, girl?” Alya questioned with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Me, or you?”

On the night of the concert, Marinette and Alya made their way to the venue, arriving early enough to find good seats and survey the concessions stand before the show actually began. The building was small, the entryway lined with merchandise booths. Marinette beamed upon finding Kitty Section’s table, littered with CDs and buttons and t-shirts that she’d designed. Mylene sat in a chair behind the table, having become the band’s official merchandiser.
Marinette and Alya offered her a friendly wave, which she eagerly returned as she watched them saunter further into the building.
Past the merchandise booths to the left side was a small concession stand, offering popcorn and soda and chips. The middle of the venue was spacious, decorated with tables and chairs without being too crowded. Closer to the stage, the floor was empty, and along the righthand side were a few chairs for those who wanted to be close to the stage without fear of being lost in a mosh pit.
On stage, the members of Kitty Section were busy setting up, with the help of Anarka, who’d become the band’s roadie. Rose glanced up from where she’d been adjusting her microphone, and her lips split into a grin upon seeing Marinette and Alya just before the stage.
“You made it!” she squealed, gathering the attention of her bandmates.
“Hey,” Juleka offered quietly.
“Was there ever any doubt?” Alya grinned.
“You know we’d never miss a show,” Marinette smiled, blushing when Luka turned to grin at her.
“Glad you could come,” he greeted, his eyes locked on hers. Marinette was frozen for a moment before Alya giggled and nudged her side.
“Come on, let’s go get a drink before there’s a line.”
The blue-haired girl nodded, waving a temporary goodbye to her friends and following the brunette towards the concession stand.
“So, that was cute,” Alya commented once they had acquired sodas and bags of popcorn.
“Wha-what was cute? Th-the band? Sure, the band is cute. I m-m-mean their name is Kitty Section, which is super cute, and their masks are cat and unicorn themed, and everyone thinks cats and unicorns are cute!”
Marinette stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth in order to cut her rambling, dropping her gaze to the floor to avoid the intense, pointed stare coming from her best friend.
“I haven’t heard you ramble like that in a long time,” the brunette smirked. “And you know what?”
“Wha?” the blue-eyed girl murmured around her mouthful of butter and salt.
“You used to only ramble like that when you spoke about Adrien.”
Heat stained Marinette’s cheeks, and her brain spiraled into flashbacks of every encounter she’d ever had with the boy she used to love. Her heart pounded faster as she realized that Alya was right – the way she used to behave around Adrien was exactly the way she was behaving now around Luka.
“Oh, no,” she whimpered, staring at a spot in the carpet.
Alya laughed softly. “It’s okay, girl. I have it on good authority that this one likes you back.”
Marinette’s brows shot up to her hairline as she met eyes with her best friend. “What?!”
The brunette simply grinned, leading her stumbling bestie back towards the stage. They took seats in the audience, close to the stage, and waited for the show to start.

Throughout the concert, Marinette and Alya were supportive audience members, screaming the lyrics and cheering after every song. When the show finally ended, they waited patiently (or anxiously, in Marinette’s case) for the band to finish taking down their set. They stood beside the merchandise booth, where Luka had promised to meet them when they were free to roam.
Marinette was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her hands closed into fists ready to be shoved into her mouth to prevent her from saying something dumb or embarrassing. Alya had a hand on her shoulder, offering moral support and ready to step in should her best friend dig herself a particularly deep grave.
As they waited, Alya’s eyes scanned the audience, and caught sight of a familiar mop of two-toned blue hair. She grinned, nudging Marinette’s side with her elbow. The latter whimpered, rubbing her sore rib, quickly straightening her posture and grinding her teeth when Luka’s face poked through the crowd. Her heart hammered in her chest as he drew closer, and she wondered why she agreed to talk to him after the show.
“Luka,” Alya greeted with a grin, “you guys were amazing tonight! Weren’t they, Marinette?”
“Yeah, amazing! The set was amazing, the music was amazing, the instruments were-“
Another nudge from the brunette had Marinette closing her mouth.
Luka simply chuckled, having adjusted to the blue-haired girl’s nervous ramblings and finding them endearing rather than annoying. “Thank you both. This is the first official gig we’ve ever played – we’re finally getting recognized.”
“That’s totally cool. Hey, Luka, a little birdie told me that there was something you wanted to ask Marinette,” Alya commented, offering the guitarist a raised brow and a suggestive wink. She felt a twinge of pride at the light pink shade that dusted his cheek’s in response.
“Uh, right.” The blue-haired boy turned to Marinette, inhaling sharply. “Marinette?”
“That’s me!” came Marinette’s nervous reply. Alya resisted a facepalm.
The guitarist smiled. “Would you like to go on a date with me? We could have a picnic in the park, maybe? I could bring my acoustic.”
The blue-haired heroine was quiet, staring at Luka with wide eyes. Luka, though not easily swayed by Marinette’s nervous habits, couldn’t help but glance at Alya from the corner of his eye, silently asking if he’d done something wrong.
The brunette rolled her eyes. “Marinette would love to go – wouldn’t you, Marinette?”
She narrowed her eyes at her best friend, who hesitantly met her gaze.
Marinette turned back to Luka with a vigorous nod. “Yeah! She totally would!”
Luka smiled, nodding his thanks to Alya. “Cool. I’ll pick you up on Saturday, around noon?”
“Sounds great!”
The guitarist disappeared into the crowd, looking for his bandmates. Marinette stood frozen by the merchandise booth, unable to breathe until Alya was shaking her shoulders.
“You have a date on Saturday!”
The blue-haired girl nodded slowly until she finally came to her senses, staring at her best friend with wide eyes. “I have a date on Saturday!”

When Saturday morning arrived, the blue-haired heroine found herself in a state of panic. Alya had come over to assist her in assembling an outfit – something that the seamstress would normally be confident in accomplishing herself. But the fact that she was spending the day with Luka was igniting the butterflies in her belly, and she couldn’t think clearly.
“You’re having a picnic in the park,” Alya reminded her best friend as Marinette insisted upon a thick sweater and winter boots. “As cute as you look in that outfit, you’ll die in the heat.”
The blue-haired girl deflated, sitting on her bed and allowing the brunette to rummage through her closet. Once Alya was done, she turned back to Marinette with an armful of clothing. Her eyes caught sight of the unusually empty wall, and she gasped loudly.
“Oh my God, girl!”
“What?” Marinette replied, confused, turning to follow Alya’s gaze. She blushed upon reminding herself that she had taken down Adrien’s posters, and the only one that remained was the photo of him wearing the feathered derby hat she’d made.
“I can’t believe you took them down,” the brunette breathed. “I didn’t think that would ever happen. Not that I minded them.”
Her friend shrugged, staring down at her lap. “I just… I thought it was time, you know? There’s clearly no chance for me with Adrien, and now that I’ve agreed to go out with Luka… it felt wrong to keep the posters up.”
Alya smiled, patting her shoulder sympathetically. “I’m proud of you, girl. Now you can fill up all that empty space with photos of a certain guitarist.” She offered her friend a wink, giggling when Marinette’s face flushed the color of her favorite jeans.
“What am I wearing?” she inquired, desperate to change the subject, though in the back of her mind she’d already envisioned a dozen print outs and official band posters taking Adrien’s place on her walls.
Proud of her decision, Alya stood, holding a pale pink off-shoulder peasant top in one hand and a pair of black high waist denim shorts in the other. Marinette took them, and the brunette turned around to let her friend change. While she waited, Alya sorted through Marinette’s shoes, settling on a pair of white gladiator sandals.
Feeling self-conscious, the blue-haired girl toyed with her fingers. “Alya? Are you sure this isn’t… too revealing?”
The brunette rolled her eyes. “You’re almost eighteen, Marinette. You’re the most modest dresser I’ve ever met. Besides – you have great legs. Show them off once in a while.”
Marinette blushed softly, but nodded along with her friend’s words. “Alright,” she sighed, slipping on her shoes. “How do I look?”
“Luka is going to die,” Alya grinned. A knock sounded on the trap door to her room, and it opened to reveal the grinning face of her father.
“Marinette, there’s a boy here to see you.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll be right down.”
Tom disappeared, and Marinette inhaled deeply. Alya patted her back, kneeling down to open the door.
“Come on, girl. Go get your man!”

The park was close, prompting Luka and Marinette to walk. On the guitarist’s left arm was a picnic basket, and his right hand occasionally brushed against Marinette’s left. He wanted so badly to intertwine their fingers, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
In Marinette’s right arm, she carried a tray of macarons that she’d made the day before. She knew her date had a whole picnic planned, but she was a skilled baker – she wanted to contribute as well.
They reached the park, and Luka found a clear space in a grassy field for the two to sit down in. He lowered himself first, setting the basket down and beginning to rummage through it. Marinette hesitantly followed suit, placing the container of cookies down beside everything else.
“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Luka smiled as he finished unpacking. “Though I do have a weakness for your cookies.”
She giggled softly. “I know I didn’t need to, but you were doing so much just planning today. I wanted to help.”
The guitarist picked up the plate of sandwich pieces and offered it to Marinette. She smiled softly and picked up a triangle, nibbling nervously on the edge. Luka plucked up his own piece, taking a bite, and sighing softly as a cool breeze swept past them.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he commented, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
True to her character, she blushed, gaze dropping to her lap. “Thank you. So do you – er, handsome, I mean.”
Luka chuckled, picking up his guitar from where he had set it on the grass beside him. “Would a song help to relax your nerves?”
Marinette met his eyes, about to protest that she wasn’t nervous, but the guitarist knew her better than that. Plus, she loved listening to his guitar. She nodded softly, reaching for a macaron to nibble on before she made a fool of herself.
The blue-haired boy’s skilled fingers gently plucked at the strings, a soft and sweet melody coming to life under his hands. Marinette closed her eyes, letting the music flow through her as she listened. There was a calming nature to Luka’s playing, and if Marinette was honest, it was the first thing that attracted her to him.
Too soon, the song ended, and Luka turned to face his companion. Her eyes were closed, and she was sitting close enough that her head was about to drop onto his shoulder.
“How was that?” he whispered softly against her ear. Something about his voice calmed her, and instead of jumping away like she would have if it were Adrien, she simply hummed and snuggled closer.
“Beautiful,” she complimented. “You’re so talented, Luka.”
“So are you,” he grinned, reaching for a macaron and eating half of it in one bite. Marinette opened her eyes to catch him stuffing the other half into his mouth, and she giggled.
“I’m so comfortable with you,” she murmured, gazing shyly up at him. “With Adrien, I was always so flustered… I could hardly speak a proper sentence.”
“Why do you think that is?” Luka inquired, meeting her eyes. He had an idea himself, but he wanted it to be her words, not his own.
Marinette glanced down at her lap, and her date worried that he’d upset her. Before he could question it, she spoke. “I know that I had a crazy crush on Adrien. I know it wasn’t just a celebrity crush, because I didn’t know he was a model until after I decided I liked him. I didn’t even like him when I first met him; I thought he was one of Chloe’s friends. But as much as I used to think I did… I didn’t love him. We weren’t close enough for what I felt to develop into love. But with you…”
She lifted her head, watching Luka’s face, his gentle features and soft eyes. “With you, I think there could be something deeper. I don’t want to lead you on, Luka, or make any promises. But I feel something for you, a connection with you. It makes me happy; it makes me feel safe.”
Luka smiled softly at her words, leaning in until his lips brushed gently against hers. “I really like you, Marinette. I feel a connection with you, too. I admit, watching you drool over Adrien hurt, but I wasn’t going to insert myself into the mix. I was happy to wait until you had gotten over him to even make a move, but Alya insisted that now was the time.”
A shiver crawled up Marinette’s spine at the feeling of Luka’s breath tickling her mouth. “It still hurts, but I’m not interested anymore. I know he doesn’t want me, and I can live with that. And I don’t want you to think you’re just some sort of rebound, either.”
“I know you wouldn’t do that to someone,” the blue-haired boy murmured. “I trust you with my whole heart, Marinette. You’re my song. And I would be honored to be your song as well.”
Heart hammering in her chest, all Marinette could manage in response was a nod.
“You can stop me at any time,” Luka informed her, one hand lifting to caress the side of her face. She leaned into the touch, and the guitarist slowly leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Marinette gasped at the contact, melting into his touch and shyly returning the kiss. Luka sighed against her lips, the feeling of her mouth against his filling him with a sense of euphoria.
He pulled back, not wanting to overwhelm her on their first date, and offered her a smile. “Another song while we eat?”
Matching his smile, Marinette grinned. As Luka began to pluck a new tune, she lifted a sandwich from the box and held it to his lips. With a chuckle, he opened his mouth, allowing the beautiful girl beside him to feed him while he played a special melody just for her.

Chapter Text

Pocky Game – Keith Kogane
A/N: Male!reader.
Words: 1,967

As an MFE fighter pilot, you’d gotten to know the young paladins of Voltron upon their return to Earth alongside your comrades. James had told you stories of the one named Keith, about his sharp wit and snarky personality, and it made you want to meet him. Anyone that could put James in his place was someone you could get along with.
You became quick friends with the four of them. Pidge’s inventions were inspiring. Hunk’s cooking was heavenly. Lance was an adorable flirt. And Keith… Keith awoke feelings inside you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.
You realized, with a deep sigh and a palm to your forehead, that you were attracted to the red-turned-black paladin.
You’d confided in Nadia, your closest friend, about your new discovery. Her reaction had been overly supportive and entirely mischievous.

“Hey, we should have a party,” she stated one day during lunch break. “The older officers and lieutenants are doing their own thing – we should have a party to celebrate everyone’s success.”
You couldn’t deny that it was a good idea, but you knew she had ulterior motives.
“Yeah!” Lance eagerly agreed.
“And where would we have a party?” James inquired, raising a brow.
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
With a sigh, you raised your hand, pointedly ignoring Nadia’s grinning face beside you.
“I have an apartment about twenty minutes away,” you offered.
“Atta boy!” Nadia praised, and you lightly shoved her shoulder with your own.
“It’s settled, then!” Lance grinned. “Party at (y/n)’s!”
“When?” Keith sighed, knowing better than to try and excuse himself.
“Tomorrow night?” Nadia suggested. “It’s Friday. We can meet at (y/n)’s place when we’re done here.”
The rest of the group agreed, and you chewed the inside of your lip. What in the hell had you just agreed to?

The next evening, your stomach was flipping over on itself. Nadia had been the first to arrive, rushing to your apartment as soon as she had changed out of her uniform so that she could help you get ready. You’d insisted that you didn’t need her assistance, but she was annoyingly persistent. She helped you set out drinks and snacks before whisking you away to your own bedroom where she rummaged through your closet, assuring you that Keith wouldn’t be able to tear his gaze from your form by the time she was done.
Knocks sounded upon your front door, and you hoped that the arrival of your colleagues would weasel you out of whatever “date night” ensemble Nadia had selected.
No such luck.
Nadia threw the chosen outfit at you, demanding that you put it on before returning to your front room, or she’d blab your crush on Keith to the entire team. You really didn’t want to cross her, so you picked up each article of clothing and shyly pulled it on.
You really looked quite amazing, but you weren’t going to admit that to her.
Dressed and just as nervous as you’d been before they arrived, you headed out to the kitchen in search of a drink. The only alcohol Nadia could get her hands on was a few six packs of wine coolers, but it was better than nothing. And, really, you didn’t want this party getting out of hand, especially if the goal was to prompt you to finally admit your feelings to the black paladin.
A whistle from the entryway of the kitchen caught your attention, and you glanced up to find Lance standing there in search of a drink. He offered you a smirk and one of his signature finger guns.
“You look great, (y/n),” he complimented. “Trying to impress a certain mullet?”
A blush dusted your cheeks, and you nearly dropped the bottle you were attempting to open. “I don’t- what do you-“ You sighed, your voice lowering shyly. “Did Nadia tell you?”
The Cuban laughed harmlessly. “Nah, man. Nobody told me. I can just tell. The way you stare at him during training kinda gives it away.”
With a groan, you lifted a hand to slam it into your own face. “Does everyone know?”
“Everyone besides Keith,” Lance shrugged, twisting off the top to his own beverage. “He’s a badass fighter and an awesome pilot, but the dude couldn’t take a hint if it chopped off his bangs.”
You sighed again, offering Lance the sincerest expression you could manage. “Nadia suggested this party to try and get us together. I keep telling her that it’s pointless – he doesn’t see me that way.”
The brunet was quiet before chuckling softly. “Dude, you’re just as blind as he is.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Lance placed a hand on your shoulder. “He probably hasn’t figured it out himself, but Keith is totally into you. He watches every second that you’re in the flight simulator, and I think it turns him on.”
Your blush returned with a vengeance, and you nearly choked on the swallow you’d just taken of your drink. Lance grinned cheekily at you.
“You… you’re just screwing with me, right?”
“I promise, dude,” Lance smiled softly. “Besides, I’m the loverboy of the team. I can get you two together by the end of the night.”
Before you could insist that you really didn’t want his brand of help, he had already disappeared to discuss schemes with Nadia.

As the evening progressed, the group ended up lounging about on the various pieces of furniture in your living room. Nadia called for them all to form a circle on the floor, and with an expected amount of whining and protesting, they made their way downward, you included. You ended up sandwiched between Keith and Lance, the latter deciding to “accidentally” bump your side and nudge you closer to Keith, nearly landing you in his lap. You countered by shoving Lance to the other side, pressing him into Kinkade, who blushed a delightful shade of magenta at the contact.
“Let’s play the Pocky Game!” Nadia grinned, holding up a hand to reveal several boxes of Pocky in various flavors. You stared, slack-jawed at the girl you wondered why you called your best friend.
“What’s the Pocky Game?” Hunk inquired, and you were glad you weren’t the only one who hadn’t heard of it.
The dark grin on Nadia’s lips made you want to run for the door. Looking to the side, you found a matching expression on Lance’s face, and you knew you were going to regret ever hosting a party.
“It’s where two people take each end of the Pocky stick into their mouth,” Nadia explained, “and you chew on it until you meet in the middle. The idea is to break apart before your lips meet, and whoever eats more of the Pocky wins.”
“But if you end up playing with someone you like, it’s a great way to sneak in a kiss,” Lance smirked, and you stifled a wince.
“How are we going to determine who plays?” James questioned.
Nadia plucked one of the empty wine coolers from the floor and placed it in the center of the circle. “With some good, old-fashioned Spin the Bottle.”
“I think (y/n) should go first,” the Cuban beside you stated, and you turned to send him a glare. He simply winked at you. “It’s his party, after all.”
“Hey, now,” you protested. “Both the party and the game were Nadia’s idea.”
“And I say you’re going first,” Nadia countered. She tossed a box of Pocky in your direction, and you fumbled before catching it. With shaking hands, you reached for the bottle, twisting your wrist to spin it. Your heart pounded in your chest as you willed the bottle to land on literally anyone besides Keith.
It landed on Lance, and you stifled an exhale of relief. You pulled a Pocky stick from the box and stuck in your mouth, turning to face the brunet. He took the other end, slowly nibbling until you met in the middle. He ducked his head, breaking the Pocky before your mouths got too close.
“Sorry, (y/n),” he began with a wink, “I’m saving my Pocky kiss for someone special.”
Pidge snorted something that sounded very much like “Kinkade,” and you turned to grin at her.
“My turn!” Lance clapped, reaching forward and excitedly spinning the bottle. It rounded the circle a few times before stopping, the neck pointed directly at Kinkade. The blush on Lance’s face was worth the entire game as he stuck a Pocky stick in his mouth and turned to the dark-skinned boy.
Everyone watched with bated breath as they met in the middle. Before Lance could decide whether to press on or pull away, Kinkade’s hand came to rest on the back of his neck. Lance shrieked as he was pulled into a kiss, lead completely by the other boy. Cheers sounded throughout the circle, and applause erupted as soon as the two parted.
The rest of the turns were uneventful, ending in either broken Pocky or tentative pecks of lips. When it finally came to Keith, you couldn’t help but watch the bottle as it spun.
And aimed itself at you.
You pointedly ignored Nadia’s grin from across the circle, turning to face Keith as he prepared a Pocky stick. You knew you’d get chewed out by both Lance and Nadia if you backed out, but you couldn’t help the insecurities rising in your chest. What if Keith didn’t like you? What if he pulled away first? What if-
The rest of your worries were put to rest as you ran out of Pocky, and your lips were met with the soft, warm ones of one Keith Kogane. Before you could think to kiss back, he pulled away, staring intently down at his lap. Warmth flooded your core as you continued on with the game, ending up paired with Pidge, Hunk, and Nadia by the time everyone ran out of Pocky.

The day grew late, and you informed your friends that they were welcome to crash on the various pieces of furniture in your living room if they didn’t wish to return home. Lance thanked you for your offer, but claimed he had other plans as Kinkade took his hand and dragged him out the door. Nadia accepted eagerly until Pidge nudged her side, jerked her head towards Keith, and led Nadia outside. The rest of your friends bid their goodnights and left, leaving you alone with the red-turned-black paladin.
“Are you leaving too?” you questioned softly.
Keith met your hesitant gaze. “Do you want me to?”
“Honestly?” you countered, feeling a surge of confidence.
He nodded.
“I… I kind of want to talk about the game,” you stated, slowly padding into the living room and sitting on the couch. “And, perhaps… continue where we left off.”
Keith was quiet for a moment, and you worried that you’d said something wrong. He sat beside you, taking your hands in his. Damn, you liked the way his gloves felt on your fingertips.
He leaned in, pressing his lips tenderly to yours. You couldn’t stifle the gasp that followed, but before he could pull away, you leaned closer, returning the kiss like you’d wanted to earlier. His lips molded perfectly against yours, parting and reconnecting a dozen times before the two of you required a proper breath. His forehead rested on yours, his grip tightening on your hands.
“I didn’t think that you felt the same,” you admitted softly, shyly glancing up to meet his eyes.
“I didn’t think you did either,” he smirked. “Lance swore that you did, but… I didn’t believe him.”
You exhaled a chuckle. “I didn’t believe him either.”
He kissed you again, and the rest of the night was spent sharing lips and soft words, cuddles and caresses.

Chapter Text

Enjoying Nature – Todoroki x Deku
A/N: Aged-up AU. Young adult TodoDeku.
So there isn’t much talk about nature but… they’re outside? Does that count? I kinda ran away with the plot and forgot the prompt.
Words: 1,422

A hushed call of his name roused Izuku from his slumber. He continued attempting to sleep for a moment before the whisper sounded again, and he knew there was no ignoring it. Emerald eyes slowly blinked open, vision blurry before they focused on the figure currently trying to get his attention.
“Daddy!”
A warm smile melted across Izuku’s face as he fully awoke, sitting up in his bed and reaching for the young girl standing beside it. She had mint-green hair that fell down her back in soft waves, and bright icy blue eyes full of awe and admiration.
“Good morning, Ichika,” the green-haired boy grinned, holding his daughter in his lap.
“Morning, Daddy,” she giggled, securing her short arms around Izuku’s chest and squeezing as tightly as she could manage.
“Is it time to get up for the day?” Izuku questioned.
“Uh-huh!” came Ichika’s cheery reply.
The pro-hero chuckled. He always enjoyed a day off to relax and spend time with his husband, but having a child in their lives had made him appreciate such days so much more.
“Do you wanna wake up Papa?” Izuku offered. “You’re much better at it than I am.”
Over the years, Izuku had become a master in all things relating to Shoto Todoroki and keeping him happy, which in itself wasn’t a difficult task. However, Izuku had learned early on that Shoto was not a morning person, and while he wasn’t overly grumpy like some of their former classmates, getting the dual-quirk user out of bed was a struggle.
He was never outwardly mean to the green-haired male upon being woken up, but ever since they’d adopted Ichika, Izuku had learned that Shoto responded positively to anything her minty heart desired, and that included getting her Papa out of bed.
“Papa!” Ichika whispered rather loudly, poking Shoto in the cheek as she sat on his abdomen. The older male responded with a groan, turning his head away from her tiny fingers.
The four-year-old pouted, poking his cheek again. “Papa! Up time!”
That seemed to catch Shoto’s unconscious attention, and he slowly opened his eyes. Heterochromic orbs settled on the toddler sitting on his stomach, and his lips stretched into a lazy smile.
“Did Daddy send you to wake me up?” he grumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Beside him, Izuku felt a shiver crawl down his spine at his husband’s tone.
“She’s better at it than I am,” Izuku shrugged, a guilty smile plastered on his face.
“Up time!” Ichika repeated, exhaling a rather loud squeal as Shoto’s nimble fingers dug into her sensitive ribs. Her giggles were loud as she lurched to the side, reaching desperately towards Izuku in hopes of making him her savior.
“Unhand her!” the freckled hero shouted half-heartedly, catching his daughter’s arms with ease and tugging her away from her tormentor. Shoto reached across the bed with one arm, his fingertips catching the bottom of his daughter’s foot for one final assault before he gave in.
“Fine, you win,” he smiled softly as Ichika cuddled into her dad’s chest.
“We beat Papa!” Izuku cheered, lifting his hand. Ichika high-fived it with as much force as her toddler body could muster.
“What should we do today?” Shoto inquired, rising to a seated position and stretching his arms. Izuku stared shamelessly at his husband’s bare torso, watching the taut muscles stretching beneath fair skin.
“Park!” was Ichika’s personal suggestion, and her parents shared a look before shrugging in unison.
“Park sounds good,” Izuku replied, gently nudging Ichika off of his lap so he could rise from the bed. “If you want to get her ready, I can pack us some lunch.”
“Sure,” Shoto agreed. He padded across the floor towards their dresser, opening a couple of drawers and withdrawing some light-wash fitted jeans and a stormy grey button-up. He dressed quickly and ran his long fingers through his tangled locks before turning to his daughter.
“Come on, Chika,” he cooed. “Let’s get you ready to go.”
“Park!” the young girl giggled excitedly, taking her papa’s hand and dragging him out of his room. As he passed Izuku in the doorway, he planted a soft kiss on the other’s lips, and the younger male smiled as he watched them exit the room. He dressed himself in a tight black t-shirt and dark-wash jeans before heading down the hall to the kitchen to round up a picnic.
Once the food was prepared and Ichika was dressed in a white floral shirt and soft pink shorts, everyone slipped on their shoes and headed out the door.

The park was only a ten-minute walk from their house, so they arrived quickly. Izuku took the picnic basket to their preferred table and began unloading it while Ichika dragged Shoto towards the swings, demanding to be pushed. Shoto helped her into the child-friendly swing before stepping around behind her and gently nudging her back.
“Higher!” she squealed, and Shoto hesitated for a moment before complying.
“Come eat!” Izuku called, and Shoto gently slowed the swing to a stop.
“Come on, Chika,” he smiled, lifting his daughter out of the swing. She clung to her papa while he carried her across the wood chips, heading towards the picnic table. He sat down with her in his lap as he looked at the assortment that Izuku had prepared, a fond smile on his lips.
“What do you think?” Izuku questioned, offering Ichika half of a ham-and-cheese sandwich and a cherry flavored juice pouch. The toddler happily tore into her lunch, leaning back against her papa’s chest.
“It looks delicious,” the red-and-white-haired man insisted, picking up a turkey sandwich for himself. He nibbled on it while supporting his daughter’s weight.
The freckled hero smiled. “It’s not much, but I figured no one would be too terribly hungry yet.”
“It’s perfect,” Shoto commented, bringing a light dusting of pink to Izuku’s cheekbones. Years into their relationship, long enough for them to have gotten married and adopted a child, and compliments from his high school sweetheart still made him blush.
“Can we play Lava Monster?” Ichika inquired as she stuffed the last bite of sandwich into her mouth.
Her parents shared a look. Izuku grinned.
“Of course we can,” Shoto smiled, shaking his head. Such an expression on his husband’s face only meant that he would be the monster, struggling to reach Izuku and Ichika from the ground below the play structure.
“Yay!” Ichika wriggled her way off of her Papa’s lap, running towards the steps that led to the structure. “Papa’s the monster!”
“Of course I am,” Shoto chuckled. He stood, taking Izuku’s hand as they slowly followed their daughter.
“Don’t worry,” the younger male smiled. “You’re only a pretend monster.”
He then released Shoto’s hand and took off towards the play structure, leaving his husband slowly trudging along. “What’s the color, Chika?”
Ichika assessed her surroundings as she stood atop the walkway of the structure. “You can’t touch yellow!”
Shoto snorted. Of course she chose yellow. The base of the structure was yellow, including the monkey bars and climbing poles. Only the slides and rope ladder were other colors. It was a good thing he was tall, though he mused that such was the reason his daughter chose a difficult color.
He reached the structure and planted his hands on his hips, watching as Ichika scrambled away from him. He shuffled towards the slide, using his long legs to easily ascend it. Once he reached the top, every piece within reach was yellow, so he could only wave his arm in hopes of catching his daughter.
“Run!” the young girl giggled, tugging Izuku’s hand and running to the opposite end of the equipment. Shoto jumped off of the slide and ran through the wood chips, meeting his husband and child at the other end where the monkey bars sat. Izuku jumped atop the bars, cradling Ichika in his lap, and peered down at his husband. Shoto reached, but to no avail. Despite the height he’d gained since he graduated high school, the monkey bars had been built for older kids and as such were out of his reach.
“You win this time!” he sneered playfully, earning a cheer from Ichika.
The rest of the morning continued on similarly. Shoto eventually caught Izuku’s leg, forcing him to take a turn as the monster. Ichika changed the color rules more than once, and after a few hours of playing, they returned to the table to finish off their sandwiches before heading home.

Chapter Text

Sharing a Shake – Jughead Jones
Anon
Words: 1,182

You’d lost track of just how many hours you’d been sitting in the corner booth at Pop’s, the one furthest away from the door, curling into yourself and watching hot tears drip onto the polished table before you. The sobs had come and gone – you’d bite your lip to keep the whimpers in, squeezing your eyes closed as tears streamed down your cheeks. You’d calm down, return to normal breathing patterns, perhaps glance out the window. One moment would pass, then another. Without warning, a new batch of salty wetness pooled behind your eyes, spilling out with no filter and you ducked your head to hide your shame from the world.
Maybe you should have gone home. You’d considered it a hundred times since you sat down. But as soon as you’d move to stand, you’d be reminded of why you’d run to the diner that had become your sanctuary in the first place, and you’d be blinded by tears and crippled with anxiety at the mere thought of someone catching you in such a state. You friends knew where you were, but not why. The reason you were hiding was probably out having fun right now, and you didn’t want to run into him or his stupid friends.
The bell above the door chimed, though it had done so frequently enough throughout the day that you’d learned to tune it out. You heard the mumblings of a familiar voice ordering food at the counter, but your exhausted gaze remained fixed on your lap.
Until a figure was sliding onto the bench across from you, and you stiffened as anxiety crawled up your spine.
“(y/n)?” Jughead’s voice questioned, soft and dripping with concern. He’d never seen you cry, and you’d known each other for years.
You remained silent, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of your hoodie.
“(y/n), what’s wrong?” he inquired. “Come on, you know you can talk to me. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”
His gentle tone and genuine worry had your lower lip quivering. You’d run out of tears, so you simply trembled in your seat, closing your eyes and ducking your head until you were completely hidden beneath your hood.
Jughead was quiet for a moment, sitting back in his seat and thinking through all of the occurrences that could have possibly led to your current situation. He exhaled a soft sigh, grey eyes gazing softly at you though you couldn’t see it. “It was Chuck, wasn’t it?”
You visibly twitched at the name, and the boy across from you made a noise very akin to a growl like one would hear from a protective wolf. Jughead was the only person you’d told about your being in a relationship with Chuck, the resident man-whore. He’d advised you against it, insistently, but you’d assured him that you would be fine. The entire student body was quickly made aware of your relationship, as Chuck and his football buddies liked to loudly gossip about the people they were dating. Everyone was accustomed to hearing too many details about their sexual partners, whether such things had actually happened or not. Unfortunately for you, you thought that Chuck had changed, that he truly cared about you, and you’d let him have you.
In one dreadful blink of an eye, all of your private business was buzzing through the halls of Riverdale High. Most of the students pitied simply because you’d gotten with Chuck at all. Some of the self-appointed “popular kids” stuck their noses up, claiming that you should have known what you were getting yourself into. Chuck and his friends were the worst of all, twisting the story into a fairytale about you being desperate and begging for Chuck to claim your virginity.
A fist slamming into the tabletop caught your attention, and you hesitantly lifted your gaze to glance at the brunet sitting across from you. His lips were twisted into a frown, his brows furrowed with what appeared to be anger. His usually soft eyes were stern, swirling with emotions that you couldn’t quite identify. Your teeth nervously gnawed at your lower lip – was he mad at you? Did he think you were stupid for trusting a jock?
“I should have known,” he grumbled. “I should have known that jerk would do something to you. I’m so sorry, (y/n). I didn’t want you to be with him but… I didn’t want you to feel like I was controlling you. It’s not my place to say who you can or can’t date. I’m your best friend, not your dad.”
He sighed heavily just as Pop padded over with a chocolate shake. Jughead thanked him, holding it close and taking a long sip. He then paused, glancing at you before sliding the glass across the table. It slowed to a stop just in front of you, and your eyes darted between the dessert and your best friend.
Jughead rolled his eyes. “Drink it. I know ice cream makes you feel better.”
“It’s yours,” you shook your head. “I couldn’t.”
The writer rose from his seat, and you winced, thinking that he was simply going to leave. Instead, he approaching your bench and slid in beside you, taking hold of the milkshake glass once again.
He took a sip before handing it over to you. “Come on. Share it with me. Please?”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at his insistence. To appease him, you took a small drink, failing to stifle a sigh as soon as the chocolate reached your tongue.
Jughead grinned beside you. “That’s what I thought. I know this is your weakness.”
“Thanks, Jug,” you murmured. You shifted closer, resting your head on his shoulder.
He secured an arm around your back. “Anytime.” His head rested on yours, and he would alternate between drinking the shake and pressing the straw to your lips.
After a long while, with the glass now empty, he glanced down at you. “Are you feeling any better?”
You couldn’t meet his eyes as a large sigh fell from your lips. “I’m in the playbook.”
Jughead tensed beside you, and you bit your lip. You knew that would get his attention, and that he would want to do something about it.
“Sounds like the football team is about to fall victim to larceny.” His arm tightened around you.
You didn’t want to start drama but… you had to admit, Jughead wanting to fight for your honor made your chest swell with pride.
Using one hand to gently grasp your chin, he tilted your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes. Your tears had long since dried up, but your eyes were still red and puffy and exhausted.
The writer leaned in, pressing the softest of kisses to your lips. You simply hummed in response. He pulled back, offering you a smile, which you bashfully returned.
“I’m always here for you,” he promised, and you nodded softly. He eventually bought you dinner, and when the two of you were done eating, he walked you home, where you insisted he spend the night and continue comforting you.

Chapter Text

Forest – Killian Jones
RubyRose226
A/N: Ah! How long has it been since I’ve written for Once?? Almost two years? Wow, that’s insane.
Due to finally getting myself a Netflix account I finally got around to finishing the final season and all of the characters returning got me all sorts of feelsy, so I went back and rewatched some of my favorite scenes and unintentionally sent myself into a OUAT spiral. Good thing I had a couple of requests waiting for me.
Words: 1,109

A soft giggle tumbled from your lips before you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound. You were meant to be sneaky, silently creeping through the forest for a midnight rendezvous. If the higher-ups caught you, your fun would be over, and you’d be horribly punished.
The sound of leaves crunching beneath heavy boots drew your attention to the right, and you bit your lip to stifle an excited squeal. A tall, dark figure approached you, clad in leather and adorned with jewelry. His hair was short and nearly black, matching the stubble that decorated his jaw. His eyes glinted in the moonlight, illuminated with mischievous intent.
“Hello, love,” came a deep, sultry voice, lined with an Irish accent that nearly had you swooning. You dug your heels into the dirt beneath you just to keep yourself upright.
“Hello, Captain.”
He chuckled, soft and low. “I thought we were past formalities. Should I go back to calling you Fairy?”
As much as you hated the moniker, you couldn’t deny how delicious it sounded coming from his mouth. “Don’t you dare, Killian.”
“I didn’t think so, (y/n).”
He grinned, and you felt your insides melt into pudding. It was almost shameful how weak a single smile from the pirate made you feel, but you clearly had an affect on him as well – if you didn’t, why would he continuously visit you?
You’d been engaging in midnight trysts with the infamous pirate for months now. It was never anything serious; at least, nothing serious had been vocalized. But there were nights when Killian was busy pillaging towns when you abused your fairy form and floated outside of nearby taverns. Through open windows, with the amplification of alcoholic beverages, you overheard many young maids discuss similar intimate experiences… with the very same pirate you’d been seeing. Killian had never promised you exclusivity, and you’d never requested it. But the more stories you heard, the more you felt an ugly green monster rising through your core.
“You’re thinking rather loudly,” he commented, stepping out of the shadows and closer to you. The moon accented his fair skin, as well as the shimmering silver hook that replaced his left hand. “Are you having second thoughts?”
You shook your head vigorously. “No, not at all. I just…”
He tilted his head, inviting you to continue.
You gazed into his eyes, steeling your nerves. “I just wanted to ensure that… you were genuinely interested in me, that you don’t simply see me as a plaything.”
His hand caressed your jaw, and you leaned into his touch without hesitation. He smiled softly at you, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours.
“I assure you, lass,” he murmured softly, “I am definitely interested in you. Fairy or not, you’re beautiful, and I very much enjoy kissing you.”
He accented his words with a tender kiss to your mouth, sucking the breath from your lungs in a single second. You sighed softly into the kiss, arms reaching up to wind around his neck, one hand tangling in his dark hair. His arms secured around your waist, his hook curving around your ass while his hand flattened against the small of your back. You could taste the rum on his breath, and it only made your head spin even faster than it already was.
“I know we’re not…” you trailed off as Killian broke the kiss. Your gaze dropped to the ground beneath you. “Exclusive…”
You didn’t catch the raise of his brow. “Are we not?”
Your head snapped back up to meet his steady gaze. “What?”
“Well, I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed you didn’t have other lovers,” he commented slowly. “But you have my word that I haven’t.”
“I- but- you-“ Words failed you, and you shook your head to clear your thoughts. “I’m the only one?”
The pirate nodded. “I’ve never been much for monogamy before, love, but I haven’t wanted to even hold another woman since we began these secret visits.”
“I just… I thought… I know you’ve been with other women before…”
“Aye, I have,” he nodded, the hand on your back softly rubbing it through the fabric of your dress. “But not since I’ve been with you.”
You released a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I’m sorry, Killian. I haven’t been with anyone, either. I haven’t wanted to. I just…”
His hand lifted to caress your cheek, and you leaned into the touch. “Just what, love?”
A soft blush danced across your cheeks, nearly invisible in the moonlight. “I may have hovered outside of local pubs and heard tale of some of your… conquests.”
He huffed out a laugh, and your brows furrowed as you prepared to be insulted. To your surprise, Killian leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“Those are old tales, lass. I’ve been with many women, yes, but not recently. I swear, you’re the only one.”
You chewed your lip, glancing up at the pirate. His eyes held sincerity, and guilt churned in your belly for ever having doubted him.
“I’m sorry,” you replied lamely.
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize, love.”
Before you could protest, he tilted your head up and pressed his lips to yours. Like every other kiss you’d shared, it took your breath away, and he knew it immediately. His hand and hook slid down to your butt, gripping the flesh until you took the hint and jumped. Your legs secured around his waist, one of your hands fisting in his shirt while the other tangled once again in his hair. You felt him walking, though you couldn’t care less for the direction until your back was pressed against a tree. Using that to hold you in place, his hand lifted to tangle in the hair at the base of your neck, tugging enough to tilt your head back. Your breath caught in your throat as your entire body tingled, and you happily granted him access. Your hands grasped desperately at his shoulders, keeping him as close as physically possible while his stubbled lips assaulted your neck.
“Will you get in trouble if I mark you?” he whispered against your skin, just beneath your ear. Your brain fogged over at the fact that he even asked.
“I’ll just wear my hair down,” you whimpered, and, and he grinned against your neck. His lips, tongue, and teeth attacked the skin with fervor, and you knew there’d be a chain of bruises that you couldn’t excuse. But at the moment, you didn’t care. You were perfectly content to spend the rest of eternity in Killian’s arms, lost in the forest.

Chapter Text

Sad – Katsuki Bakugo
SuicidalConnorMurphy
A/N: Male!reader.
Hey loves! I don’t know if you guys know, but I’m also an artist! With everything going on right now, I’m trying really hard to generate art commissions. Below I’ve listed my various accounts – please check them out and give them some love! Even if you can’t buy a commission yourself, just spreading the word is a great help! I love you guys!
Instagram - daisy.artwork
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Words: 1,782

Your back was pressed against the wall of the common room as you sat on the floor, knees drawn up to your chest with your arms secured around them. Anyone who paid any attention while passing by you would have caught how your once sparkling eyes were now dull and empty. The school year was coming to an end, so all of class 2-A had gathered in the common room for a party. You’d wanted nothing but to sit and wallow in your dorm, but Mina, having appointed herself your best friend and personal cheer squad despite you being a class B student, physically dragged you from your room to the common room. She’d originally thrown you on the couch as a method of forced socialization, but once her attention was lost in makeovers and teasing Kaminari’s hair, you managed to slip away and slink across the floor. You stayed visible solely for the fact that Mina, who would undoubtedly notice your absence before the end of the night, would fetch you or send someone less pleasant to do it for her.
Bakugo wasn’t faring much better. He sat at the far end of the couch- another reason for you to not stay on that particular piece of furniture- with his arms crossed and the darkest, deepest scowl that anyone had seen on him in a long time etched into his features. He had calmed down over the last few months, learning to control his emotions and not threaten to explode anyone who send him a sideways glance. He even smiled and laughed with the group now, and participated in class bonding events, such as sleepovers and parties like the one he currently wished he wasn’t at. His classmates were poorly hiding their concern at seeing the blond appear so distraught. They’d learned how to tell when he was simply frustrated or genuinely angry, when he was depressed or even insecure, on the rare occasion that he felt such a way.
And they knew the cause. It was the same occurrence that led to you shying away from the group, biting back another round of tears, hiding in the folds of your clothing.

For the better duration of the school year, you and Bakugo had been romantically involved. He’d been hesitant to let any of his or your classmates know at first, but after some pressing (and pouting) from you, he gave in. He had an evident soft spot for you, allowing himself to smile and cuddle you in front of other people. It took him some time, originally wanting to keep even the slightest signs of affection behind closed doors, but you wore him down, throwing yourself onto his lap during social situations until he ceased protesting and instead wrapped his arms around your waist.
But as the end of the year approached, Bakugo’s attitude changed. He grew more and more distant, no longer asking you to spend the night or go to lunch with him on the weekends. He stopped sitting with you at lunch, ignored you when the A and B classes trained together. You could hardly hold a conversation with the blond before he’d take off, claiming that he had homework or training or some other pathetic excuse.
It took a few months, but you finally cornered him in the common room one evening as he tried to sneak away. You knew he went to bed early, but everyone had just barely finished dinner when you caught your boyfriend creeping towards the elevator.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you’d shouted, crossing your arms and standing directly in Bakugo’s path.
“I’m going to bed,” he replied, attempting to shove you out of the way.
You stood your ground, placing a hand on his chest. “You’ve barely spoken to me in months, Katsuki. I know I’m a little clingy and you like your space but you’re treating me like you used to before we moved into the dorms, before we even became friends!”
You knew that others were listening in – the entire background around you two was silent, and you could feel dozens of eyes following your every move. Maybe putting Bakugo on the spot was a bad idea, but it was now or never. You were tired of not being on your boyfriend’s priority list.
“Drop it, (y/n),” he tried again, a growl in his voice. His growing anger worried you – he never spoke to you that way. But you were past caring.
“No!” you exclaimed. “I won’t drop it, Katsuki! I know you’re busy, you’re always ditching me for homework or training or other things that I’m apparently too incompetent to help you with. I’m sick of it. I’m your boyfriend, in case you’ve forgotten. Boyfriends tell each other what’s going on. Stop treating me like I don’t matter! You’ve spoken more to Deku in the last three months than you have to me!”
Bakugo had been pushed too far. You’d done the pushing. You knew he was getting angry, but it was the only way to get him to admit what was bothering him.
“I’m done with you!” he shouted, red eyes narrowing at you.
Your heart hammered in your chest. Tears pooled behind your eyes. Soft, poorly stifled gasps sounded around you.
“Y-you… what? Katsuki… What are you saying?”
“You’re slowing me down, (y/n),” he replied as though it were obvious. “Next year is our last year at UA. I need to focus on becoming the number one hero. I can’t do that in a relationship. You’re not focused like I am. We’re done. We’re not together anymore.”
He successfully shoved past you, and with your legs turning to jelly, you fell to your knees on the floor. Tears streamed down your face before you could even register what Bakugo had said. Chatter exploded around you, but the ringing in your ears drowned it out. Your body wracked with sobs, and you crumbled to the ground, covering your face with your hands. Someone approached you, wrapping you in their arms and softly rubbing your back, but you couldn’t care who it was. You’d lost Bakugo. You’d lost the love of your life. You’d lost everything.

After your breakup, Bakugo went back to his angry ways. He screamed at everyone, not nearly as much as he did during his first year, but more than when he was dating you. His entire class had tried to reason with both you and him, but you’d insisted that he wanted nothing to do with you. Asking Bakugo about your breakup only resulted in first-degree burns with a loaded threat of third-degree to the next person who opened his or her mouth.
As he sat on the couch, Bakugo let his gaze drift across the room. The idiots that called themselves the Bakusquad were seated in a circle on the floor, giggling and jumping over one another. The Dekusquad was seated at the dining room table, discussing classes and training and their plans for the following year.
His eyes found you, barely holding yourself together, curled up against the wall. In the two years he’d known you, he’d never seen you look so… sad. He immediately decided it wasn’t an expression he enjoyed on your face.
Your gaze didn’t waver as footsteps approached you, and their owner dropped down beside you. It was only when you heard a familiar sigh and the scent of burnt caramel wafted through your nose that you realized who it was, and your entire body tensed.
“Hey.” His voice was rough, quiet, almost tired.
“What are you doing over here?” you managed in monotone, eyes glued to the carpet before you. “Thought you were done with me.”
He sighed again. “Look, (y/n), I…” A long pause. “I made a mistake.”
Your eyes widened in surprise, and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “What?”
He shuffled slightly closer, looking around to ensure that no one was eavesdropping. “I made a mistake, breaking up with you. I thought you were holding me back, that I wasn’t going to be number one if I let a relationship distract me. But breaking up with you was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I… I’ve been failing classes.”
Your head snapped up to look at him. “You what? You failed a class?”
With a wince, he nodded. Bakugo never failed classes – he was always studying.
“I haven’t been able to focus. I know I hurt you. I know I humiliated you. I know I didn’t treat you anywhere close to the way you deserve to be treated. But I… I miss you. I miss us.”
His hand dropped to the floor, suspiciously close to your hip. Biting your lip, you released your knees and let your hand rest atop his. He laced your fingers, squeezing your hand, and your heart fluttered in your chest.
“I miss us too,” you whispered.
He turned to face you, a soft smile on his lips. Such a smile was only meant for you. He only ever smiled that way around you.
“How about giving us another chance?” he asked, his lips quirking in the way they did when he didn’t want to admit how nervous he was.
You were quiet for a moment again. “You can’t do that again. You can’t blow up on me just because you’re stressed out.”
He nodded. “I swear, (y/n). Never again. I want to be with you. I… I love you.”
That was all you needed. He’d only told you he loved you on a handful of occasions, and it wasn’t a phrase he used lightly. With a soft smile, you nodded.
“I want to be with you, Katsuki.”
He grinned, leaning in and covering your lips with his own. You hummed into the kiss, your free hand reaching up to slide into his ash blond spikes. Cheers and applause sounded in the background, and you knew without looking that they were applauding for the two of you. When Bakugo pulled back, gazing softly at you, a glance behind him confirmed your suspicions. You blushed under the scrutiny of both of your classmates, turning to hide your face in your boyfriend’s chest. His chest rumbled with a chuckle as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close.
“Come on,” he murmured, moving to stand and pulling you with him. He tugged you over to his previous seat on the couch, sitting down and holding you on his lap. You curled into his chest, watching your friends continue their festivities. You shared intimate kisses with the blond when no one was looking, and before the night was over, you fell asleep in his arms.

Chapter Text

Awkward Kiss – Kei Tsukishima
A/N: Male!reader. I’ve been on a kick. I have a new favorite. I’ve been binging Tsukki fics and came up with ideas of my own and upon discovering that said fics haven’t been written by anyone else, I decided to write them.
I know a lot of you don’t read smut, so I alluded to it in this chapter. There will be a bonus chapter meant to fill the space where the smut would have happened, so if you enjoy smut, you can still read it.
Words: 3,682

The boys of the Karasuno volleyball club gathered in Sugawara’s living room, circled on the floor with various plates of snacks and cans of soda scattered between them. As their manager-in-training, preparing to take over for Kiyoko when she and the other third year graduated, you were involved in club activities, whether or not they pertained to volleyball.
You were sandwiched between Hinata and Nishinoya, who were taking turns excitedly chatting your ears off. You laughed along with them, enjoying their friendliness. Kageyama was still warming up to you, as was Tsukishima. If pressed, you would deny the flutter that occurred in your chest any time the tall, stoic blond so much as glanced at you. Hinata and Nishinoya had pressed, repeatedly, and eventually wore you down. You admitted being attracted to the middle blocker, and they, unsurprisingly, teased you relentlessly. You pleaded with them to keep it to themselves, to not let it slip to the rest of the team, and especially not Tsukishima. That only led to their insistence that you participate in Sugawara’s overnight gathering, promising to push the two of you together until the blond succumbed to your apparent charm and asked you out.
You doubted every single plan they fathomed, but it was too exhausting to prevent them from planning. So you sat between the two troublemakers, who against your wishes had gotten Tanaka involved, and you were almost certain that Daichi and Sugawara had caught on as well, if their occasional glances in your direction were anything to go by.
“We’re going to play a game!” Tanaka announced, and your heart hammered anxiously.
“What game?” Yamaguchi inquired excitedly. He enjoyed the buddy-buddy bonding moments with the team, especially when he managed to drag Tsukishima along.
“Seven Minutes in Heaven!” Nishinoya and Tanaka exclaimed. Dread pooled in the pit of your stomach, and you felt your face flushing.
“No way,” Kageyama groaned, shaking his head.
“Sorry, no exclusions,” Hinata stated, playfully shoving your shoulder. You turned to glare at him, earning a lighthearted chuckle from Sugawara.
Daichi had a notebook and pen in hand, scribbling down everyone’s names before tearing the page and folding the pieces. He placed them in a large bowl before holding it out to you. “Newest member of the club goes first.”
Your jaw dropped as snickers sounded beside you. With a sigh, you realized that this had been the plan all along. You closed your eyes and reached into the bowl, digging to the bottom for the last scrap of paper. Pulling it out, you handed it to Daichi to discover your fate.
The club captain read the name to himself before a grin split his lips. You tried to shrink into yourself as he turned his attention towards you.
“Tsukishima,” he announced, earning wolf whistles and laughter from Nishinoya, Hinata, and Tanaka. You were certain your cheeks were the color of Nekoma’s jerseys as Tanaka all but dragged you to the closet, shoving you inside. Tsukishima followed nonchalantly, leaning against the wall opposite you as the door was closed and locked from the outside.
The closet was dark, but the light seeping in through the space beneath the door was enough for you to see the disinterested expression on the blond standing before you. You chewed your lower lip, wondering if he despised the entire game or simply this pairing. Before you could drown yourself in sorrowful assumptions, he spoke.
“Well, this is one method to get what they want, I suppose.”
You turned to look up at the taller student, brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, get what they want?”
He exhaled softly, and for a moment you weren’t sure he would elaborate. He took a step forward, which, with his long legs, had him crossing the entire space. His hand settled on the wall beside your head, and he leaned down until you were eye-to-eye.
“Tsukishima?” you murmured softly, and he hummed in acknowledgement.
“This is their idea of… playing matchmaker.”
What.
“What?” you questioned intelligently, watching as his gaze dropped to the floor. Was he mad at you for not understanding?
“I didn’t want to do it this way,” he sighed. “I didn’t want to do it at all, really. Confessions are a waste of time. You’re clearly not interested, so this whole game was pointless.”
“Not interested in what?” you inquired, before realizing he’d mentioned something about a confession. “What were they trying to make you confess?”
With another exhale- wow, were you really that boring?- he leaned in, bending slightly at the waist to accommodate your height difference. You weren’t as short as Hinata or Nishinoya, but not everyone was a beanpole like Tsukishima.
His lips ghosted over yours, and your breath hitched in your throat. He seemed to take that as rejection, pulling back before contact could be made. You surged forward, not wanting him to get the wrong idea, and pressed your lips to his. It was clumsy and uncoordinated, and it caught him off guard, but to you it felt perfect. A noise of surprise emanated from the back of his throat before he tilted his head, returning the gesture and wrapping his arms around your waist. You hesitantly placed your hands on his chest, uncertain of what else to do with them.
He pulled back for a breath, staring down at you through his glasses. His eyes were half lidded, a slightly dazed expression on his usually stoic face. You decided with some excitement that you really enjoyed that look.
“So what was that about confessing?” you prompted, slightly winded from the kiss.
He smirked softly. “You couldn’t figure it out?”
You pouted, hoping that you’d finally get to see the soft side that you’d always believed was hidden under the blond’s many layers of apathy. But before you could press it, the lock on the doorknob clicked, and the door swung open. There stood a grinning Tanaka, obviously planning to catch the two of you in some sort of steamy embrace. Instead, he found you with your hands on Tsukishima’s chest, and his hands lightly grazing your hips. You turned and pushed past Tanaka, reclaiming your place on the floor. Tsukishima followed suit, sitting beside Yamaguchi and glaring at anyone who asked him how it went.

It was nearly one in the morning, and most of the club members had fallen asleep in various positions around the living room. Kageyama and Hinata were curled together on one end of the couch, Daichi was stretched out in the recliner with Sugawara nestled into his side, Asahi and Nishinoya were wrapped around each other on the floor near the wall, Tanaka sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch, and Ennoshita was somewhere behind the chair. You had claimed the other end of the couch, and Tsukishima was seated on the floor with his legs crossed, eyes on his phone rather than on the movie everyone had fallen asleep watching. Your gaze hesitantly flickered to his every once in a while, but he never looked up from his lap.
Chewing on your lip, you took one final glance towards the blond, and a cold chill crawled up your spine to discover that he was, for once, looking right back at you. He stood, walking around the various bodies on the floor until he was directly in front of you. His hand extended as an invitation, and while your brows furrowed in confusion, you accepted his hand and rose from your seat. He glanced at the others to ensure they were asleep before leading you down the hallway and into the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” you questioned quietly as he closed and locked the door. Your back was pressed against the counter as the blond stood before you, blocking you in. One hand rested on the countertop, the other took its place on your cheek, preventing you from dropping your gaze from his face.
“Do you not want to finish what we started earlier?” he inquired, nudging his nose against yours, his glasses cold against your skin.
All you could manage was a nod, and he grinned in response. He leaned forward, bending slightly in order to press his lips to yours. You whimpered at the contact, lifting your arms to secure them around his neck. His long arms snaked around your waist, tugging your torso flush against his. He stepped forward, pressing your ass against the edge of the counter, before his hands slid down towards your thighs, just beneath your ass. He squeezed and you understood the message, jumping as he tugged upwards and wrapping your legs around his waist. His lips detached from yours, but before you could whine at the loss of contact, they found purchase on your neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. Your lips parted to exhale a sigh, and one of your hands slid up to tangle in his sandy hair. The strands were soft between your fingers, and you hadn’t realized from afar just how curly they were.
A rather loud whine sounded in your throat as the blond’s lips latched onto it, sucking a bruise onto the junction between your neck and your shoulder.
“Might want to be quiet,” he murmured against your skin, biting down and smirking as your grip tightened in his hair. “You don’t want someone interrupting us, do you?”*

The following Monday, you sat on the sidelines during volleyball practice. You couldn’t help but fidget in your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs, shifting your weight between each side of your body. Kiyoko sat beside you, watching you from the corner of her eye when she wasn’t watching the boys.
“Are you alright?” she inquired without looking at you, reaching into the basket of volleyballs to throw another one onto the court.
“What?” you countered intelligently. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve barely spoken to the boys today,” Kiyoko replied. “Especially Tsukishima. You usually compliment each of them when they practice, but every time he comes near you on breaks, you can’t get away fast enough.”
A blush danced across your face as you fiddled with your fingers. “I… It’s nothing. I did something stupid.”
Unbeknownst to you, the boys had taken another break and were lingering throughout the gym, chatting to themselves. Several ears were listening in on your conversation with the manager, especially Tsukishima, though he cleverly disguised it by holding up a conversation with Yamaguchi.
“You went to the party at Sugawara’s place, didn’t you?” she questioned, bending down to begin collecting the excess balls. You knelt down to assist her, chewing your lip as you contemplated your answer.
“Yes,” was what you managed.
“What happened? Were they mean?”
Your head snapped up, and a glance to the corner of your eye confirmed your suspicions that the conversation wasn’t isolated. “No, of course not. They’re great guys.”
Kiyoko glanced around, sighing softly to herself. “Come with me.” She took your arm, leading you to the storage room and closing the door behind you. The intimacy gave you flashbacks to your night with Tsukishima, and your blush darkened immensely.
“I didn’t think you wanted them listening in,” she explained. “So, what happened?”
You exhaled deeply, crossing your arms and staring down at your feet. “It started off fine. The guys wanted to play Seven Minutes in Heaven and I didn’t want to, but you know how rowdy they are. Plus, they all know about my crush on Tsukishima, so they were trying to meddle. I… ended up paired with Tsukishima.”
Her brow raised, and the naked eye wouldn’t have caught the ghost of a smile on her lips. But you did. “How did that go?”
“I- well- it-“ Your tongue twisted and you tripped over proper words. “He kissed me.”
“He what?” Kiyoko questioned, eyes widening behind her glasses. “Wow, that’s incredible.”
You nodded softly. “Yeah, it is. It was. He’s… good at it.”
“So why are you avoiding him?”
“After the game, we put on a movie. Tsukishima and I were the last ones to fall asleep, and it turns out that he likes me, at least he alluded so. He led me to the bathroom and he kissed me and…”
“And?” Kiyoko pressed.
Your hands lifted to cover your face. “We slept together.”
A pause. One heartbeat. Two.
“You slept with Tsukishima?” the manager clarified.
You nodded.
“In Sugawara’s bathroom?”
Another nod.
“And now you’re ignoring him?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” you whined, dropping your hands as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. “Nothing was discussed. He knows I like him, and he made it sound like he likes me, and we made out and we took it too far and he’s barely spoken to me since. There was no dating or asking out or agreement to ever do it again and I don’t know where he stands.”
“Talk to him,” Kiyoko shrugged. “He’s human too, you know. Maybe he’s just as confused and shaken up as you are.”
“I doubt that,” you sighed. “He’s cool and collected and stoic. Maybe it was just something he needed to get out of his system. I mean, he doesn’t go out that much, does he?”
“I don’t think that’s it,” the bespectacled girl shook her head, sympathetically patting your shoulder. “I’ve overheard the guys talking before, a couple of weeks ago. They think Tsukishima really likes you, and they all know you like him and they’ve been plotting how to get you two together.”
Your eyes widened in surprise, and you chewed your lip in thought. “Maybe I should ask one of the guys.”
“Try Yamaguchi or Sugawara,” she suggested. “Yamaguchi knows Tsukishima best, and Sugawara’s kind of like a mother hen. They’d be the most helpful.”
“Thanks, Kiyoko,” you smiled, and she nodded. Before you could protest, she opened the door, leading you back into the gym. The club members pretended not to notice that you’d disappeared, immersing themselves in technique practices while casting side glances in your direction.

It was another couple of days before you approached Yamaguchi. Practice was over, and while Tsukishima had already gone home, Yamaguchi stayed behind to assist in cleaning up. They’d made a mess of the gym that day, and the freckled boy didn’t want you to be stuck picking up after the entire club on your own.
“Hey, Yamaguchi?” you questioned hesitantly.
“Hm?” he countered, lifting his head to ensure that you had his attention.
You chewed your lip, tossing a ball into the collection basket. “Has Tsukishima told you about… that night at Sugawara’s?”
His eyes softened. “Not in detail. Why?”
You couldn’t decide whether to feel deflated that the details weren’t worth mentioning, or elated that he’d mentioned it at all. “Well… I’ve heard from some people that he might like me, and he sort of alluded to it when we were locked in the closet together. But he doesn’t seem to act any differently towards me now, and I thought that avoiding him was the best option.”
Yamaguchi smiled softly, sitting on the bench and patting the space beside him. Once you sat down, he turned towards you. “Tsukki doesn’t like to talk about his feelings. He prefers to pretend he doesn’t have any. He hasn’t said very much, but what I did manage to get out of him was that he likes you, and he enjoyed being with you at Sugawara’s. He didn’t tell me entirely what that means, but I can put the pieces together. He’s not acting differently towards you because that’s just who he is – he doesn’t like to make a big deal out of things.”
You inhaled deeply, absorbing the pinch server’s words. “What should I do, then? You’re his best friend, you know him better than anyone else. Should I… ask him out? Is that even something he wants?”
Yamaguchi chuckled softly. “Deep down, he does. On the surface, he’ll complain about what a hassle relationships are. Don’t let that fool you.” He paused before adding, “I could ask him about it, if you’d like.”
Your eyes widened, and you nodded eagerly. “Please? I don’t want to scare him off or annoy him by bringing it up.”
“I don’t mind,” the freckled boy smiled. “I know how intimidating Tsukki can be when you don’t know him that well. But I also know his tells when he’s interested, and I know he likes you. He just doesn’t want to admit how much.”
You blushed softly at his words, chewing your lip in thought. “I hope that’s true, Yamaguchi.”
He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’ll let you know what happens.”
Rising to your feet, you followed him out of the gym after ensuring that it had been thoroughly cleaned. Turning off the light, you locked the door behind you, sighing softly and hoping that Yamaguchi would be able to get through to his stoic best friend.

Another couple of days passed, and you couldn’t hep but glance longingly at the lanky blond during practice. You sat on the bench beside Kiyoko, cheering on whichever team managed to score a point. As much as you wanted to focus solely on Tsukishima, you didn’t want to draw attention to the tension between you two, despite the rest of the team knowing about it. Only Kiyoko and Yamaguchi knew how far you’d gone during that night at Sugawara’s, but everyone had sensed the shift in your friendship.
Once practice ended, you set to work cleaning up the gym. The boys all pitched in, loading balls into storage baskets and disassembling the net. One by one they filed out of the gym, returning to their lives, but one towering individual stayed behind. Your heart thumped in your chest at the realization that you and Tsukishima had been left completely alone, and you weren’t sure what the best move was.
“(y/n),” he called softly. You spun on your heel, lifting your head to meet the blond’s gaze.
“Yes, Tsukishima?” you replied just as softly.
“We need to talk.”
You watched as he sat down on the bench, hands clenched into fists and resting on his thighs. You sat awkwardly beside him, at the far end of the bench, uncertain of how close he wanted to get.
“What about?” you questioned, though you had a fairly good idea that you knew.
“That night at Sugawara’s,” he replied, turning his head just enough to see you out of the corner of his eye.
You gulped inaudibly. “Do you regret it?” Well, fuck. That wasn’t what you meant to say.
He stiffened, and you prepared yourself for rejection. To your surprise, he replied, “No.”
“You don’t?”
“Do you?”
A shiver crawled up your spine. “Of course not. I… I’ve liked you for a while now.”
He nodded, as though he already knew. “I assume you know how I feel about you.”
You huffed softly, biting back a humorless laugh. “Not really, no.”
He turned to look at you, a thin brow raised as though he didn’t understand how you could be uncertain.
Shaking your head, you explained. “You haven’t… said anything, Tsukishima. You made a comment that sounded like it could be a confession, while stating how lame you think confessions are, and then we kissed. But you never said whether or not you actually liked me.”
“The kissing and what we did in the bathroom wasn’t enough for you?” he questioned.
You felt your cheeks heating at the reminder, and you swore you saw a smirk twitching on his lips. “I need words, Tsukishima. Yes, I enjoyed what we did and yeah it seemed like we were on the same page emotionally, but it could have just been something you needed to get out of your system. Maybe you thought you liked me and then I disappointed you somehow. I can’t read your mind, you know?”
His gaze dropped to his lap. “I… I’m sorry. I thought- they always say that actions speak louder than words, so I thought everything we did that night would make it clear. Yamaguchi told me that you weren’t sure, and that didn’t make sense to me. I didn’t understand how you could be confused.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmured, feeling as though you’d done something wrong by not understanding his intentions.
He faced you again. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Because…” you trailed off, exhaling as your shoulders slumped.
As your gaze was trained on your lap, he shifted closer to you until your legs were touching. A warm, slightly rough hand caressed your cheek, tilting your head up until your eyes met his. Your lips were slightly parted, and you fought the urge to bite down on your lower lip. You tilted your head slightly, leaning into his touch as you scooted closer to the blond.
“I want to kiss you,” Tsukishima murmured, nudging your nose with his own. You could feel his breath on your face.
“Do it, then,” you countered. With a smirk, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours like the night you’d shared at Sugawara’s. Your eyes fluttered closed as you melted into his touch, tilting your head and returning the gesture. You hesitantly reached forward, fisting a hand in his t-shirt in order to keep him close. One hand remained on your face while the other dropped to your hip, slender fingers gently squeezing your side through your shirt.
“I like you,” he whispered against your lips, and your heart fluttered at finally hearing those words.
“I like you too,” you murmured, surging forward and stealing another kiss from his mouth. He smirked into the kiss, gently nipping at your lower lip. Your lips parted to accept the tongue that was swiping into your mouth.
“Since you seem to require verbal confirmation,” he teased, pulling back just enough to meet your eye, “we’re dating now.”
You nodded. “That works for me.”
With a grin, he kissed you again, and you decided that getting home late was worth spending time with your boyfriend.

*When I get around to writing the smut chapter, this will be where it goes.

Chapter Text

Photographs – Marshall Lee
Dait
A/N: Modern life AU. Feelsy and angsty but with a happy ending!

The smile that stretched across your face was more intense than the sun as you stood beside the love of your life. A tall, lanky teenage boy with shaggy black hair and creamy skin stood beside you, an arm draped lazily over your shoulders and a dopey grin on his lips, exposing his pointed teeth. His brows were arched, eyes narrowed seductively, though the way he held you to his side exhibited nothing but pure adoration and love. Your arms were secured around his waist, pressing your torsos together, your head tucking ever-so-slightly into his neck.

A bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you placed the framed photo on your bedside table. It was only the first out of the box labeled “Marshall,” and you knew the rest of its contents would be as heartbreaking as they were precious. Reaching in, you produced another frame, another piece of memorabilia capturing the love between you and the raven-haired delinquent.

His lips pressed against yours passionately, a slender hand resting delicately upon your cheek. It was your eighteenth birthday, the third consecutive birthday you’d celebrated with your troublesome boyfriend. In your hands was this year’s present – a teddy bear wearing one of Marshall’s old t-shirts, cut and poorly stitched back together in order to fit the toy’s tiny frame.
“So you don’t miss me all the time,” had been his reasoning, a response to your concerns about attending different colleges. You’d been accepted into the ivy leagues to pursue your dream, while he had only managed to apply to a state college. You’d wanted to attend the same school, but Marshall had insisted that your education and your chosen career was more important, and that your relationship was strong enough to survive the distance of the ocean.

A sniffle tingled its way through your nose, and you scrubbed a hand across your eyes to stifle the budding tears before they could even fully form. You weren’t going to cry. You were in college now, unpacking your new dorm room. Marshall was… not there.

One hand held another, the first displaying the second like a masterpiece. Marshall’s long fingers wrapped easily around your palm, his thumb caressing your knuckles. Your left hand appeared as it always had, though with one major exception.
On your ring finger sat a silver band with a simple, small gemstone in the center. It wasn’t big or flashy, but Marshall could only afford so much, working at the convenience store down the road after school and on weekends.
“It’s perfect,” you’d insisted when he tried to claim that he’d buy you a better one someday. You didn’t want a better one – you wanted this one. This was the one that Marshall chose. This one made your heart flutter and melt and tingle.

Your parents had never approved of your relationship with the troublemaker. You were a proper young lady, destined for amazing things. Marshall was a hoodlum from a broken home, destined to follow in the footsteps of his alcoholic mother and deadbeat father. You’d never believed the harsh stereotypes that the town placed on your boyfriend. You knew how good of a person he could be, how amazing he wanted to become.
Once your father found out that Marshall had proposed (by sauntering into your room unannounced, hoping to catch the two of you in a compromising position so that he had a reason to throw the boy out of his house), he’d been furious. There was screaming, and crying, and swearing, and your father had grasped the front of Marshall’s shirt and dragged him all the way through the house. You’d watched in horror as Marshall was harshly thrown out into the rain, landing with a wet thump on the pavement. Before you could call out to him, the front door had been closed and locked, and your father ordered for you to return to your room with the lowest, lividest tone you’d ever heard come from his mouth.

You stood at the podium on the stage, accepting a hug from your principal as a diploma was placed in your hands. Your cap was stationed loosely on your head, and your eyes were dull and lifeless. A hand clapped you on the back, but you couldn’t be bothered to thank the staff members or pose for photos. You and Marshall were supposed to graduate together…

Another sigh tumbled from your lips as you set the photo of your graduation in the drawer of your table rather than on top of it. It was an experience you’d rather not recall.
You lost the love of your life only a month before graduation, and you hadn’t cared about anything else since his death.
After your father had thrown him out, he’d had to walk home in the pouring rain. You lived in the nice, quiet suburbs, but Marshall lived in the dangerous back alley section of the town. He crept along the shadows, keeping to himself, but a group of thugs decided to interrupted his walk. He’d fought back as hard as he could, but he was sore from being thrown to the sidewalk, and the rain was weighing him down, and he wasn’t particularly strong due to how scrawny he was. The brutes overpowered him, tossing him down. His body was littered with bruises within seconds. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, and by the time the paramedics arrived, he was barely holding on.
Your father had informed you of Marshall’s passing the next day, and you’d spent the entire afternoon sobbing into your pillow, clutching the teddy bear he’d given you. Your parents had tried to coax you out of your room, with food and movies and offers to leave the house, but you’d refused every single word, instead drowning in your own sorrow.

Now in college, your dorm was nearly unpacked. Your mother had accompanied you in order to help transport all of your belongings, but you’d sent her away as quickly as she would allow. You wanted a break from your parents, a break from your old life. There were only two forces driving you to complete your degree – financial independence, and honoring Marshall’s memory.
You participated in college activities, eating dinner with the rest of the students in the dining hall, watching a movie with your roommates as a method of bonding. Once they retired to their own rooms, you settled into bed, a book in your lap and your beside lamp illuminating the small space. You were just about to doze off- the only sleep you seemed to get nowadays was when you exhausted your brain and succumbed unintentionally- when a tapping sound emanated from your window. Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly turned your head, expecting to find some horrible intruder. Instead, the shaggy hair and toothy grin that you’d dreamt about for the last several months met your gaze, and you nearly collapsed.
Setting your book down, you rose from the bed, slowly creeping towards the window. The rational side of your brain screamed at you to go back to bed – there was no way Marshall could be at your window. He was dead. Long dead. Your father had said so.
But your emotions were running wild, and your heart ached desperately, and you sat at the windowsill and unlatched the window and slid it open.
“M-Marsh?” you greeted hesitantly, and his grin widened.
“Hey, babe,” he returned.
You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, surging forward to grasp Marshall by the arms and tug him through the window. He grunted upon tumbling to the floor, crawling to the wall and taking a side beside you on the windowsill.
“How?” you questioned, reaching out to cup his cheek. His skin was cold, presumably from the chilly night air, but he leaned into your touch nonetheless.
“Remember the night I proposed?” he inquired.
You nodded, left hand squeezing into a fist as if to remind yourself that the ring was still stationed on your finger – it was.
“After your dad threw me out, I got mugged,” he explained, placing a hand over yours on his cheek. “They beat the shit out of me and left me for dead. I was lucky to make it to the hospital. It took hours, so the doctors told me, to bring me back, but they eventually got my heart pumping again. I had to stay there for a few months to recover, and by the time I got out, our senior year was over and I knew there was no way I’d be able to contact you without your parents finding out.”
“My dad told me you were dead,” you gasped, hot tears streaking down your face.
Marshall’s eyes widened. “He what? He seriously told you I died?”
You nodded, your lower lip trembling. “H-he said that y-you got attacked, a-and you died on the way to the hospital.”
“Oh, babe,” he sighed, pulling you to his chest and resting his head on yours. Damn, he smelled just as good as he always had. “I’m so sorry. I’d have sought you out sooner if I knew. I just didn’t want to face your dad again, and get you in trouble. How mad was he, after he kicked me out?”
“He tried to take the ring,” you admitted, gazing up at Marshall.
“Did you let him?”
With a teary grin, you lifted your left hand. Marshall smirked widely, taking your hand and kissing your ring finger.
“That’s my girl.”
You lurched forward, burying your face in his neck. His arms tightened around you, cradling you to his chest.
“I know I can’t stay,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.
“You can stay the night,” you replied, squeezing him tighter. “We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”
He nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
You led him to your bed, all but forcing him under the covers before you curled into his side. He held you tightly, refusing to let go even for a second. You turned off the lamp and exhaled softly, your head resting on his chest. As you drifted to sleep, the last image you saw was the collection of photographs displayed on your bedside table.

Chapter Text

Boyfriend Does My Makeup – Keith Kogane
Redandgoldgirl
A/N: The order of steps for Keith doing the reader’s makeup is based on how I do my makeup.
If the last few steps seem rushed, it’s because this was written over several weeks (I actually took a break from it for so long that I thought I had finished it and got really confused as to why I never uploaded it) and I didn’t want to repeat the same phrases for every single step, cuz that would get boring.
Words: 1,782

The video began with a plain view of your face, grinning and sporting minimal makeup.
“Hey, everyone!” you grinned, waving enthusiastically at the camera lens. “Today is the day! You all voted – literally, every single one of you voted for this video. Oh my God, I didn’t think I would get so many votes. I don’t think you guys have ever been so unanimous.”
A groan sounded from somewhere off screen, and you giggled somewhat maniacally.
“As requested, and obviously as the title says, this is the Boyfriend Does My Makeup Challenge! I have my man Keith here with me- come on, babe! Say hi!”
You tugged at an arm, pulling the body attached to it into the frame. Your boyfriend grumbled, sitting beside you and waving noncommittally to your viewers.
Your smile never wavered. “How do you feel about the challenge today, Keith?”
He shrugged, the fabric of his maroon hoodie shifting with the movement. “Just wanna get it over with.”
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the camera. “I know he seems like a grump, but he’s way more fun in real life, I promise.”
“Lance would disagree,” Keith smirked.
“Lance is an attention whore,” you countered, crossing your arms. “Getting a rise out of you is one of his favorite pastimes. Besides, he doesn’t get to be intimate with you like I do.”
A soft blush dusted the raven-haired boy’s cheeks, and you beamed triumphantly.
“Now,” you cleared your throat, eyes glancing downward. “We’ve assembled my entire makeup collection, which, let me tell you, takes up quite a lot of space-“
“There’s literally a whole table set up just for your palettes,” Keith commented, lifting a brow.
“Aww!” you cooed, reaching out a hand to ruffle his thick bangs. “Look at you, knowing what palettes are called!”
He rolled his eyes. “I do watch some of your videos, you know.”
You snorted. “Yeah, when I force you to.” Shaking your head, you looked back at the camera. “Anyway! Keith will have his choice of literally every piece of makeup I own, and I’m not going to guide him one bit! In the comments of my last video, you all voted for what color scheme Keith should employ for this challenge, and I’ve written down your choices for him to look at!”
You handed your boyfriend a small notepad full of scribbles, and he glanced over them quickly. He hummed softly in thought, nodding once he’d made a decision.
“Alright, baby,” you inhaled. “Are you ready?”
Keith simply nodded again.
“Let the challenge begin!”
An undecipherable expression sparkled in Keith’s eyes, but you misread it as uncertainty. You watched as he rose from his seat and sauntered away from the camera frame, rummaging through the collection of makeup on the table. He plucked up an armful of products, holding them in his lap as he sat back down, not wanting to have to get up again later. He seemed hesitant as he thumbed through the brushes he’d selected for your eyeshadow, and you worried for a moment that he’d do something crazy like try to use your blush brush instead. Luckily, he picked up the correct one, setting the others on the small table beside him. He then lifted up the first of his chosen eyeshadow palettes- you were moderately surprised that he’d selected more than one- and opened it, scanning its contents for the shade he wanted.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed without looking at you, and just before you complied, you caught a glimpse of him swiping the eyeshadow brush across one of the colors. The top of the lid was facing you, so you couldn’t tell which one he chose, but you knew what the options were based on the palette in his hand.
A soft sigh escaped you as the brush swept across your left eyelid. Keith may appear rough around the edges to the rest of the world, but with you, he was unimaginably gentle. He repeated the action with the other eye before pausing, checking his work and trying to determine if he needed more product. You guessed that he’d leaned back, considering you could no longer feel his breath on your skin.
While your eyes were closed, Keith wiped the remaining product from the brush onto a tissue before setting it aside. He picked up another brush and dabbed it into a slightly darker shade than before, though keeping in the same realm of color. He leaned in again and placed the pigment in the outer corners of your eyes, blending the two shades together where they met. You exhaled a soft hum at the sensation – doing your own makeup never felt this relaxing. What was it about letting someone else take control that was so soothing? Was it simply the gentleness of Keith’s hand, doing everything in his power to make you comfortable?
You felt him shift away again. “Can I open my eyes?” you inquired.
“Not yet,” he replied, cleaning and setting aside the second brush in search of a third. He discovered the one he wanted and peered into the palette before frowning and setting it aside. His hand found one of the others that he’d selected and he opened it, making a soft noise of triumph when his amethyst eyes spotted the color he was looking for. He was much softer with the pigment this time around, not wanting the color to be too heavy. Once it was on the brush, he leaned in once more and deposited the color onto your inner corners.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Keith murmured as he put the palettes away and picked up your collection of eyeliners. He set aside the odd colors that you used for specialty looks, like blue and purple and white. He then separated the liquid eyeliners from the others, holding only the black ones, and opened each of them to inspect their applicators. Picking the one that seemed the most user-friendly, he closed the others and set them aside before turning his attention back to you.
“Don’t move,” he commented, resting the heel of his hand on your cheek. Before you could offer a sassy retort, you felt the cold wetness of liquid liner on your lash line and decided to keep your mouth closed as to not disturb your boyfriend.
He grumbled to himself, and you could only guess that he’d messed up the first attempt. He reached blindly for a makeup wipe and dabbed carefully at the awkwardly-shaped attempt at a wing, waiting for your skin to dry before he tried again. There were no more grunts, so you assumed he’d steadied his hand and accomplished his task. With the eyeliner done, he sat back, admiring his work thus far. When he’d been inactive for about two minutes, you opened your eyes to find that he was rummaging through your collection of foundations. Only a few were brands and shades that you’d chosen for yourself – the mystery makeup packages you received in the mail every month usually included foundation, but despite your skin tone being clearly stated in your account preferences, companies often sent you horribly inaccurate shades.
Keith picked up one of your favorites, and you struggled to hide praise from your expression. He struggled to open the bottle before managing to pop off the cap, examining the spout in search of instruction. He made a soft noise of recognition, pressing down on the spout and watching the liquid pile onto the back of his free hand. Setting the bottle down, he dug through the collection of large brushes, searching for the one that still had remnants of old foundation littering its bristles. He dabbed it into the goo on his hand before pressing it to your face, his lips quirking into the tiniest smirk at discovering that he had in fact chosen the right shade for your skin.
Your boyfriend apparently knew far more than you’d given him credit for. He found another fat brush, this one completely clean, and swiped it across a bronze pigment. After blending that onto your jaw, hairline, and the sides of your nose, he cleaned the brush and picked up a highlighter palette. Your eyes followed the brush as it collected a shimmery shade before it dusted the apples of your cheeks, the center of your forehead, and the bridge of your nose.
By the time he thumbed through your various mascaras, an outsider would have assumed this was his makeup-centered YouTube channel, not yours. He instructed you to keep your eyes open as he carefully brushed the mascara along your lashes, coating the strands a few times before closing the mascara and setting it aside. The last item was lipstick, and he hated tasting it when he kissed you, so he hunted specifically for your collection of quick-drying mattes that wouldn’t transfer to his own mouth afterward. You bit back a smirk as you watched him search so carefully. He found a shade that complimented your eyeshadow and twisted it open, studying the small applicator before leaning towards you. He gently painted the pigment onto your lips, lining your lower edge and cupid’s bow before filling them in. Closing the lipstick and sitting back, his violet orbs danced across your face, ensuring that he hadn’t missed any steps in the course of your makeover. With a nod, he ducked his head.
“You can look now.”
Turning to face the camera, you reached out to adjust the large mirror you usually employed to apply your makeup during your videos. You’d turned it away to reduce temptation while Keith was completing his challenge, but now it was time to check his work. Your jaw dropped as your brain absorbed the image in your reflection. The eyeliner was slightly smudged from being applied more than once, and the bronze could have been blended in a bit more, but the rest of the products looked as though you’d applied everything yourself.
“Keith… It looks amazing!” you gasped, turning to face your boyfriend. You lurched forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. “How did you get so good?”
Checking that he was still visible to your viewers, he smirked. Before you could question it, he leaned in, kissing you fully on the mouth. You found yourself grateful for the full face of makeup, knowing your cheeks were flushing at the affectionate gesture.
“I watch all of your videos, babe,” he commented, pulling back from the kiss. “Not just the ones you ‘force me to’.”
You were left dumbfounded on camera as Keith rose from his seat, shuffling into the kitchen to prepare lunch for after you finished filming.

Chapter Text

Coffee – Overhaul x Shigaraki
A/N: Another that I decided to claim because no one else had. I thought about placing it in my Cute and Gross book instead but once I finish Writer’s Block I can take requests for my other books, so I put it here.
I drew a cuddly ChiShig sketch for a friend and had an adorable mental image of domestic ChiShig fluff.
Words: 1,168

The room was blurry as the blue-haired man slowly came to, blinking himself awake as a yawn stole on his lips. He stretched his arms above his head before reaching across the bed to where a warm body was supposed to be. His gloved hand instead grasped a handful of sheets, and his lips twisted into a frown. He slowly sat up, garnet eyes darting around the dark room. The curtains had been drawn fully closed, courtesy of Kai in respect to Tomura’s distaste of sunlight interrupting his slumber. His tired frown lifted into a soft smile as he pushed back the comforter and turned to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet met the carpeted floor as he rose to a standing position, black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, oversized black t-shirt swallowing his thin frame.
Lifting one fist to rub at his sleepy eyes, Tomura shuffled across the floor towards the bedroom door, using his free hand to open it. He winced at the bright light that greeted him, emanating from the kitchen down the hallway. With another yawn, he propelled his body forward, following the strong scent of coffee wafting through the air. Once he reached the kitchen, he found his early-rising boyfriend busily fixing breakfast, and as Tomura’s senses awoke further, he recognized the scent of bacon.
Without a sound, he padded toward the coffee pot, only to find a gloved hand blocking the handle from his grasp. He looked at his own single-fingered glove to ensure that he was, in fact, still wearing it, before meeting the apathetic gaze of his boyfriend. Before he could voice his confusion, Kai extended his other hand, grasping Tomura’s favorite mug already filled with fresh coffee, a splash of milk, and more than a decent amount of sugar.
The blue-haired male smiled softly, grasping the mug with his own hands and lifting it to his lips. A low hum sounded in his throat as he swallowed the liquid, mentally grateful that Kai knew him well enough to prepare his coffee to perfection before he’d even gotten out of bed.
“How long have you been up?” he inquired as he took another swallow.
Kai shrugged, flipping the bacon in one frying pan before cracking an egg into another. “A while. Eggs?”
“Please,” Tomura nodded. “What prompted breakfast?”
“I was hungry,” the brunet replied. “Figured you would be, too.”
“I was a little disappointed to wake up alone,” the blue-haired male commented, shifting closer to his boyfriend and watching him cook.
“I know you like your sleep,” Kai returned, turning to look at his boyfriend. He leaned to the side, pressed a kiss to his forehead through the surgical mask he wore across the lower half of his face. His germaphobia had gotten better over the years, but there were days, especially now that he lived with Tomura, that he felt the need to protect his skin. Considering his mask and gloves, today was one of them.
Tomura didn’t mind. He himself understood the importance of protection, though his own oddly cut gloves were due to a lack of control rather than a fear of bacteria. Still, he wasn’t going to complain. Kai’s gloves and mask never halted the affection with which he showered his boyfriend, and if the shorter male ever complained, Kai would drop the mask to his chin and give his boyfriend a proper kiss every now and then.
“Smells amazing,” Tomura commented as he sucked down his coffee.
Kai chuckled softly. “Glad you think so.”
The younger male hummed softly to himself as he set his mug down on the counter beside the stove, turning his back to it and using his arms as leverage to hoist himself upward to a seated position atop the granite. Turning his head, he watched his boyfriend work. Kai stood before the stove, muscles flexing beneath his black long-sleeved shirt. Grey sweatpants clung to his hips, swooping slightly when his long torso leaned one way or the other, revealing his lightly tanned hip bones. Tomura stared unabashedly, licking his lips at the sight before finishing off his caffeine. He leaned back against the cupboards behind him as Kai divided the bacon and eggs between two plates, turned off the stove burners, and set the two frying pans under running water in the sink.
“I’ll clean up,” Tomura offered, slipping off the counter to accept the plate that his boyfriend was extending towards him. He took two forks from the silverware drawer, offering one to Kai before they both took a seat at the kitchen table.
“Sure,” Kai nodded, pulling his mask down in order to eat. “Thanks.”
The younger nodded, cutting open a fried egg and watching the yolk ooze out across the plate. He heard his boyfriend snort and glanced up, watching as the brunet took a bite of his own fully cooked egg. Their preferences may differ, but they enjoyed enough of the same food groups to cook and dine together.

When breakfast was over, both men placed their dishes in the sink, and Shigaraki carefully rinsed them off before organizing them inside the dishwasher. Deciding that it was full enough to warrant running, he placed a soap pod into the appropriate pocket and closed the door, pressing the “start” button. Turning around, Tomura found that Kai had settled down onto the living room couch, only vaguely paying attention to the program displayed on the tv. The blue-haired male crossed the kitchen towards the coffee pot, refilling his mug and fetching the milk from the fridge. He poured a small amount in before reaching for the sugar shaker, watching as a more-than-healthy collection dissolved in the hot liquid. He took a spoon from the drawer and stirred the contents of his mug before discarding it into the sink and picking up the mug, humming in content as he took a sip. His feet carried him over the threshold into the living room, placing his mug on the coffee table and dropping his weight down beside Kai on the cushions.
Leaning back, Kai wordlessly lifted his arm, his gaze fixed on the tv as Tomura snuggled into his side, folding his legs and tucking his feet beneath him. He reached for his coffee, sipping at it while Kai flipped through the channels. He was far less interested in tv shows than Tomura was, so as long as the program entertained his boyfriend, he was content. He settled for an anime that he recalled Tomura mentioning, and he caught his boyfriend’s garnet eyes widening in excitement in his peripheral vision.
“Good coffee?” Kai commented nonchalantly, tugging Tomura closer. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed the difference, but Tomura smirked to himself, swallowing more of his beverage.
“The best,” he replied, quickly losing focus on his boyfriend as his attention was lost to the anime on tv.
They spent more hours than Kai cared to count sitting on the couch, snuggled together, ignoring the world.

Chapter Text

Just an Average Day – Keiji Akaashi
Alex
A/N: Ahh, an outlet for my endless fangirling. Three cheers for self-indulgence.
So I’ve never written Akaashi. I hope it turned out okay.
Also the omelet described in this story is called omurice and it’s AMAZING.
Words: 1,210

A soft hum sounded in your throat as you shifted into consciousness, your eyes slowly fluttering open to gage your surroundings. Your bedroom was dark, signaling that the curtains were still drawn, only allowing light to seep in through the cracks at the bottom of the drapes. In your groggy, half-asleep state, you struggled to recall what day it was, exhaling in relief upon discovering that it was Sunday, and neither you nor the man you were currently snuggling into had any responsibilities with which to bother. Content with your discovery, you shifted closer to the warm, shirtless body sleeping beside you, tucking your head into his neck and securing an arm around his waist. In turn, he rolled onto his side to face you, a strong arm wrapping around your back and tugging you closer to a toned chest despite being fully asleep. With a smile on your lips, you buried your face in the warmth and drifted back into slumber.

When you awoke again, it was due to a lack of presence beside you. Pouting, you tiredly rose to a seated position, blinking slowly as you inhaled. Your lips parted to release a yawn, and you stretched your arms above your head. Since you and your boyfriend first began living together, you’d grown accustomed to having his body beside yours in bed. You struggled to fall asleep without him at least in the room, preferably wrapped around you, and you only managed to sleep for about half an hour longer after he left. With that in mind and blinking away your grogginess, you guessed that Keiji must be in the kitchen, fixing a pot of tea and some sort of breakfast for the two of you. He was the absolute definition of an “early bird,” rarely lounging in bed for more than half an hour after waking. The only special occasions were your birthday, your anniversary, when you were sick, or when you awoke before him and managed to bribe him with puppy eyes and sweet kisses.
Your feet slipped easily into the slippers placed on the floor on your side of the bed, allowing you to cross the room in the direction of your window. You pulled back the curtains, smiling at the realization that Keiji, as usual, left them closed in a failed attempt to let you sleep in. Humming in content as light flooded the room, you made your way to the door and headed out towards the kitchen. Stepping out into the hallway, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of egg and fried rice wafted through your nostrils. Upon entering the kitchen, you found Keiji with his back towards you, whisking away at the contents of the frying pan on the stove. Two steaming mugs of tea were placed on the counter, and you knew without asking that one had already been steeped and sweetened to your preference. Shuffling up to the counter, you slid the mugs out of the way and pressed your back to the surface, bracing your palms on the edge in order to hoist yourself up into a seated position. Keiji glanced up at you just as you picked up your tea, heated perfectly in your favorite mug. He smiled upon meeting your eyes, tilting his head up and letting his eyes fall closed. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his with a soft “Thanks for the tea.”
“I knew you’d be getting up soon,” he responded, turning his attention back to breakfast. “I figured it would be cooled by the time you joined me.”
“You know me so well,” you teased, bringing the mug to your lips and taking a careful sip. Damn, your boyfriend was right. The temperature was still warm enough to soothe while being cool enough to properly consume, and he’d sweetened it perfectly. Was Keiji Akaashi made in a lab or something?
“You’ve complained on numerous occasions that you can’t sleep without me beside you,” he responded simply, folding the omelet in the pan to let it finish cooking.
“And yet you refuse to stay in bed with me,” you chided teasingly, giggling afterwards. The ghost of a smile stole on his lips, so you counted it as a win.
“We can’t all laze about all day,” was his reasoning, sliding the omelet onto a plate and drizzling sauce* over top of it.
“We can when it’s Sunday and we have nowhere else to be,” you countered, sipping at your tea and lightly swinging your legs.
In lieu of a response, he simply turned to set two plates of food on the kitchen table, complete with silverware. He then took his mug of tea in one hand and offered the other to you, watching as you laced your fingers with his. Setting your own tea on the counter, you jumped, landing gracefully on the kitchen floor. Picking up your tea, you crossed the room to take a seat at the table, smiling softly as Keiji sat opposite you.
“You spoil me,” you commented, tearing open your omelet with a fork and watching as the fried rice inside spilled out.
“You deserve spoiling,” he replied, taking a drink of his tea.
A giggle tumbled from your lips as you continued to eat. “Delicious as always, babe,” you complimented, scooping the last bite onto your fork.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” the former setter returned, finishing off his own breakfast. “As I recall, it’s one of your favorites.”
“Everything you cook is my favorite,” you countered, “but yes, this is in the top three.”
Keiji didn’t have to inquire as to what the other two dishes were that encompassed your top three – he’d been cooking for and dining with you long enough to figure it out on his own. He rose from the table, collecting your plate and fork along with his own and carrying them to the counter. You watched, tea in hand, as he opened the dishwasher and loaded it with the dirty dishes, closing it and sauntering away upon deciding that it wasn’t yet full enough to warrant running. He returned to the table only to pick up his own tea and to lean forward, granting you the kiss you were silently requesting, tilting your chin up and bringing his attention to your lips.
“Movie marathon?” he offered, extending a hand towards you. A grin split your lips as you placed your hand in his, following him into the adjacent living room. You sat on the couch, placing your tea on the end table beside you, as Keiji plucked up the remote and dropped down onto the couch as well. You snuggled into his side as he turned on the tv and scrolled through Netflix, selecting the next installment of the movie franchise you were currently working through. His arm draped around your shoulders, a comfortable weight grounding you to his body as he allowed himself to relax. With a hum, you threw your legs across his lap, watching as the ghost of a smile danced on his lips. He turned his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the movie began, and you exhaled softly in contentment. Keiji was precise and predictable, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

*It’s supposed to be ketchup but my fiancé makes like a teriyaki sauce to pour on it instead and it’s so good.

Chapter Text

French Kiss – Mal x Evie
A/N: This is one of the first requests I received for this book and I FINALLY finished it!
Words: 1,076

Mal exhaled an exhausted sigh as she slammed closed the door to her dorm room, leaning weakly against it. She’d had to endure Audrey’s relentless taunting and ridicule throughout the day due to her discovery of the purple-haired girl’s new relationship, and nothing made the former villain want to relapse into her wicked ways more than the brunette’s conceited voice.
“Audrey again?” inquired a familiar, comforting voice.
Mal lifted her head to meet the soft gaze of her girlfriend, and she sighed softly once more. “I don’t know how much more of her I can take.” She pushed herself off of the door, dragging her feet as she padded over to the bed. She dropped her weight onto it, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. “I would love to sneak a poisoned apple in her lunchbox.”
Evie chuckled softly, crossing the room to sit beside her girlfriend on her bed. “You’re not that type of person anymore, M. That would get us expelled, and then we’ll get sent back to the Isle. Believe it or not, that’s worse than dealing with Audrey.”
Mal scoffed in disagreement. “I get away with vandalism and theft on the Isle. This stupid school has eyes everywhere.”
“We’ve given up our wicked ways,” her blue-haired girlfriend insisted. She extended a hand, stroking the tangles from Mal’s violet locks.
“I know,” the latter sighed. She turned her head, her forest eyes landing on Evie’s porcelain face. “What she says doesn’t bother me. I can handle that. Nothing is going to chase me away from this relationship. It’s just…”
“I know,” Evie nodded. “She’s annoying.”
“And persistent,” Mal groaned.
A shadow blocked the daylight streaming through the window from blinding her eyes. Looking up, Mal met eyes once again with her girlfriend, and her plump lips split into a soft smile. Evie slowly leaned downward, resting a forearm on either side of her girlfriend’s head. She closed the distance, pressing her lips tenderly to Mal’s. A noise of appreciation sounded in the shorter girl’s throat, and it urged Evie to deepen the kiss. She tilted her head, adding more pressure to her girlfriend’s lips, sliding one hand into her violet hair.
Mal lifted her arms, securing them around her girlfriend’s neck, effectively tugging her as close as she could. She shifted further up on the bed, making room for Evie to lie down with her. Evie complied, lying down on her side beside her girlfriend. Her hand tightened in Mal’s hair, keeping her head in place as her tongue swiped across the shorter girl’s lips. Mal eagerly opened her mouth, extending her own tongue to wrap around Evie’s. She explored the familiar roof of her mouth, sliding across her teeth, before she clamped down and sucked Evie’s tongue into her own mouth. Evie whimpered at the sensation, shifting until she was positioned directly on top of the other girl.
“Will you talk to me?” the daughter of the Evil Queen inquired softly, breaking the kiss just long enough to inhale.
“I’d rather kiss you,” the daughter of Maleficent countered, sliding one hand into her girlfriend’s midnight blue locks in an attempt to tug her mouth back down.
“How about a reward system?” Evie tried again, lifting her head enough that Mal would have to physically adjust in order to reach her lips.
The purple-haired teen pouted, exposing her slightly smudged lipstick. “What kind of reward system?”
“You tell me something that’s bothering you,” the blue-haired girl explained, pressing her lips to Mal’s cheek, “and you get a kiss.”
“A kiss on the cheek or a real kiss?” Mal countered, lifting a brow.
“A real kiss,” Evie giggled.
Mal exhaled a dramatic sigh, releasing her girlfriend’s hair and letting her hands fall beside her head. “Fine.”
“Good girl,” the taller female praised, brushing her lips across her girlfriend’s chin.
The shorter girl would deny the pink hue dancing across her cheeks. “It’s just-“ she sighed again, this time out of irritation. “She knows how to get under my skin. She somehow knows all of my secret insecurities, even the ones that I didn’t know I had.”
A soft mouth moved against her own, and she hummed softly, pleased by the interruption.
“What kind of insecurities, babe?” Evie murmured softly, eyelashes fluttering as she gazed into her girlfriend’s eyes.
Mal shrugged weakly, emerald eyes dancing around the room as she formulated her reply. “You. Us. Wondering if you actually love me or if I just bullied you into dating me, like I bullied you and Carlos and Jay into being my friends.”
The taller girl frowned, and when she kissed Mal again, it was harder than before, more passionate, pouring more emotion into the action. “You never have to worry about that,” she promised, keeping her eyes closed and her mouth close to Mal’s. “I love you, M. You were intimidating when we first met, but we’re way past that. I’m not your friend or your girlfriend out of pity or fear. Carlos and Jay are your friends because they care about you, not because they’re afraid of you.”
“Then she said…” Mal continued, her voice trailing off as she blinked back a stray tear. “She said that I didn’t deserve you. She said that even though we were both villains, you were just following me along, that I’m truly evil and that I’ve corrupted you.”
“Well that’s absolutely ridiculous,” Evie countered, resting a gentle hand on her girlfriend’s face as she kissed her sweetly, lovingly. Her movements were slow as she molded her lips over Mal’s, her tongue swiping across the shorter girl’s bottom lip. “I love you for who you are, Mal. And I love who you’re becoming. And nothing Audrey says will ever change that.”
Mal nodded softly to prove she understood Evie’s words, though her heart still clenched with doubt. Sensing her hidden uncertainty, Evie kissed her girlfriend, taking hold of her wrists and pinning them above her head. The purple-haired teen hesitantly relinquished control, allowing her girlfriend to move her as she pleased. Evie’s tongue slid expertly into her mouth, and Mal was lost as it swirled around her own, mapping out her teeth and the roof of her mouth. Her tongue was sucked into Evie’s mouth and Mal whimpered, shamelessly, into their messy kiss. The rest of the afternoon was spent losing themselves in each other, between teeth and tongues and saliva and heavy breaths.

Chapter Text

Favorite TV Show – Tetsuro Kuroo
Alex
A/N: Ahh, an outlet for my endless fangirling. Three cheers for self-indulgence.
Words: 1,116

The door slammed closed as you weakly kicked at it with your heel, too emotionally exhausted to close it properly. Your shift at work had drained you of your energy, and all you wanted to do upon clocking out was return home and snuggle into the broad, toned chest of your boyfriend.
As if hearing your thoughts, Kuroo slipped out of the bathroom, his usually spiky locks hanging over his eyes and dripping water down his features. A fluffy towel was wrapped tightly around his hips, revealing smooth skin and sharp muscles and if you’d had more energy, you would have torn it off.
“Bad day?” he questioned as you surged forward, burying your face in his chest. His arms instantly wound around your frame, guiding you to the living room and dropping his weight onto the couch. He pulled you onto his lap, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggled into his chest.
“Netflix and cocoa?” he offered, chuckling as you nodded eagerly. He reluctantly released his hold before taking your hand in his, guiding you into the kitchen. With a kiss to your nose, he pushed you to sit down at one of the chairs, and you pouted as he stepped out of arms’ reach. He set to work placing a pot on the stove, filling it with milk, and turning on the burner. While the liquid rose to a boil, he fetched the cocoa powder and sugar from the cupboard, along with a bag of mini marshmallows. You attempted to stand, intending to retrieve mugs from the cabinet. Kuroo caught on immediately, returning you to your seat with gentle hands on your shoulders.
“Tetsu,” you whined. “I wanna help.”
“You can help by relaxing,” he countered, petting your head before turning back to the stove. He added cocoa and sugar to the milk, whisking it carefully as to not make a mess- again- and tasting it a handful of times before determining that he’d gotten the perfect ratio. You watched as he shuffled over towards the cabinet that you had failed at approaching, retrieving two matching black cat mugs before returning to the stove. He set the mugs on the counter and carefully filled each one with cocoa, placing the pot in the sink when he finished. Marshmallows were poured on top, nearly overflowing, and then he pulled open the door of the fridge, rummaging through the contents of the drawer. You nearly rolled your eyes as his long fingers wrapped around a can of whipped cream, spraying a generous amount atop each mountain of marshmallows before he approached you. He held up the can without a word, and biting back a giggle, you tilted your head back and opened your mouth. He sprayed the dessert topping until your mouth was overflowing, spraying his own mouth before returning the can to the door of the fridge. You sucked down the mouthful of cream as he picked up one mug in each hand and gestured for you to follow him to the bedroom.
You threw yourself onto the bed, lazily stripping out of your work clothes as Kuroo placed both of the mugs on his bedside table. He padded over to his dresser and opened the middle drawer, digging through its contents until he found what he was hunting for. You watched with tired and slightly confused eyes as he turned around, and a slow smile stretched across your lips as he lifted his hand. Clenched in his fingers was a worn red t-shirt – the very shirt he used to wear to volleyball practice. He tossed it in your direction before dropping onto the bed, turning on the tv as you pulled the shirt over your head. The sleeves nearly reached your elbows, and the hem stopped just past your ass. Comfortably snug, you slid under the covers, watching as Kuroo flipped through your “recently watched.”
He passed you your mug of cocoa as he pressed play, and you grinned at his selection. He would deny it to anyone to asked, but thanks to you, he’d fallen in love with one of your favorite shows. You giggled teasingly, attempting to sip your cocoa but instead receiving a mouthful of whipped cream and mini marshmallows. Kuroo scoffed as though he were offended by your giggle, swallowing his own mountain of cream in one gulp. The episode began, and it set off another conversation about your personal opinions of each character and their actions. This was your third time watching this particular show together, so neither of you really needed to pay attention. You each had your favorite and least favorite episodes, characters you adored and characters you despised. It was easy, comfortable, didn’t require too much focus, other than responding to your boyfriend’s occasionally crazy questions.
He sniffled dramatically as a breakup he’d already watched played out on the screen. You patted his arm sympathetically, excited for this particular episode as the current breakup led to a new relationship.
“I’m still Team Dean,” Kuroo commented, his honey eyes glued to the tv.
“How can you still be Team Dean?” you shrieked, turning to face your boyfriend. “He broke Rory’s heart three separate times, and twice, he did it in front of other people! He has no tact!”
“He had no choice!” Kuroo defended. “He feels like Rory doesn’t love him!”
“Then why would you want them together?” you countered.
“Because he was her first love,” your boyfriend murmured, sucking down the last gulp of his cocoa.
You rolled your eyes. “Team Logan is where it’s at, babe.”
“No, absolutely not,” Kuroo shook his head. “Dean was her first love – Team Dean.”
“Team Logan,” you insisted. “He’s a new experience for her – they go to college together, he makes her want to try new things-“
“What, like casual dating and getting drunk?” Kuroo sneered.
“You’re such a brat, Tetsu,” you giggled. “Plus, Logan is the hottest of Rory’s boyfriends.”
“Nah, Jess is the hottest,” your boyfriend argued. “But he was the worst boyfriend.”
“He had his moments,” you shrugged. “But I’m still Team Logan.”
Setting his empty mug on the bedside table beside yours, Kuroo lunged towards you, wrapping you in his arms. He cradled you to his chest, peppering kisses across your face before finally landing on your lips. Your arms wound around his neck to keep him in place as you hummed softly into the kiss.
“As long as you’re Team Kuroo, I don’t care if you like Logan,” he grinned against your lips.
You giggled softly, sliding a hand into his perpetually messy hair. “Always, Tetsu.”
He kissed you again, and no further attention was paid to Rory or her boyfriends.

Chapter Text

Not According to Plan – Mail “Matt” Jeevas
SuidicalConnorMurphy
A/N: Male!reader.
It’s been a LONG time since I’ve watched, read, or written Death Note. I rewatched some scenes so I could hopefully get his mannerisms right. I tried.
Words: 1,697

It was supposed to be a relaxing drive. Matt was supposed to take you out after dinner, drive out to the edge of town, find an abandoned field in which to park, and sit with you on the hood of his Camaro, admiring the stars twinkling above.
It was his plan. He’d planned it.*

The evening started well enough. He ordered takeout which he tried to disguise as his own cooking, but you saw through his façade immediately due to the fact that for the entire three years you’d been dating, the closest Matt could get to preparing a home-cooked meal was pouring cereal into a bowl. He’d managed to make ramen, once, without lighting anything in the kitchen on fire, but while the broth had been scalding, the noodles had managed to remain hard and looped into a square, so you weren’t sure you could consider that a success.
You also caught a glimpse of the paper containers in the trash can, discarded after Matt had poured their contents onto plates to set on the table. Matt was a disaster, but he was yours, and you loved him.
Dinner was delicious, and you were awed by the fact that your video game-addict of a boyfriend had remembered which restaurant was your favorite. He was the epitome of “in one ear and out the other” unless it pertained to his car, his games, or his cigarettes.
“Let’s go for a drive,” he suggested as you washed the evening’s dishes and placed them in the drainer beside the sink. You lifted a brow in response, smiling softly when toned arms secured around your waist, and a chin rested on your shoulder. “Please?”
“Sure,” you nodded, turning off the water and drying your hands on a kitchen towel. “Any particular destination?”
He shrugged, unwrapping himself from you as he led you out of the kitchen. “Not really. We’ll see where we end up.”
He followed you into the bedroom where you slipped on your shoes and jacket and waited for him to do the same. Once you were both ready, he retrieved his car keys and wallet from the table beside the front door and led you outside, unlocking his car and opening your door. As you slid in, he rounded the vehicle, dropping into his own seat and starting the engine. You watched the neighborhood disappear into the sideview mirror as Matt drove down the main road, headed out of town.
“You sure you don’t have a destination?” you inquired as you watched the buildings and trees fly by outside the window.
“I just want to go on a drive with my boyfriend,” he replied with a soft smile. “Is that a crime?”
A siren sounded behind you, and red and blue lights danced across the rearview mirror. Glancing over your boyfriend’s shoulder at the speedometer, you sighed.
“No, but speeding is.”
He offered you a sheepish smile, flicking on his blinker and dutifully pulling over to the side of the road. He set the car in park and waited anxiously for the officer to approach his already open window.
“Is there a reason you were driving twenty over the speed limit?” the policeman questioned, his tone flat and unfriendly as he looked around the front half of the car.
“Heh, sorry, sir,” Matt defended lamely. “Just got lost in my own head. It won’t happen again.”
“License and registration,” the officer replied, extending an expectant hand. Matt nodded, reaching across you to access the glove compartment which held all of the paperwork related to his car. After passing it to the cop, he fished his license from his wallet and handed that over as well.
The officer inspected the documents with an expression of a child sucking on a lemon. “Are you aware that your registration is expired?”
Your brow furrowed – if there was one thing you could count on, it was that Matt was always up-to-date on his paperwork. His registration, title, and insurance were always paid and legal.
“Yes, sir,” your boyfriend sighed. “My hours haven’t been great at work, you know? I wasn’t able to renew my registration after paying my rent.”
The cop handed back the documents, his expression unsympathetic and a tad judgmental. “I’ll issue you a warning this time. Get that registration taken care of, or it will be a ticket next.”
He scribbled down on his pad before tearing the page and handing it to Matt, who accepted it with a nod.
“Yes, sir. I’ll do that. Thank you.”
The officer tipped his hat as though he had the slightest chance of being a gentleman before walking away, returning to his car. Matt flipped on his blinker and slowly crawled back onto the road, his eyes darting down to the speedometer every so often.
“Since when is your registration expired?” you questioned softly. “You never let that happen. You usually renew it a month early.”
“It’s like I said,” he shrugged. “Rent took up most of my money.”
“No, it didn’t,” you countered. “We split the rent, remember? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he smiled, reaching for your hand. You intertwined your fingers, deciding to drop the subject for now. His mood didn’t seem ruined by getting pulled over or by you discovering the state of his registration, so you figured the discussion could at least wait until you returned home.

“Are we almost to… wherever it is we’re going?” you inquired, shifting in your seat as you gazed out at the flurry of trees passing by.
“Almost,” Matt smiled.
“So you did have a destination!” you accused. “I knew it wasn’t just a ‘random drive’. Where are we going, babe?”
“It’s a surprise,” he insisted, and you extended your lower lip in a pout. You were overly curious by nature, but Matt wanted it to be a surprise – so you reluctantly ceased questioning him, instead watching the scenery and attempting to guess where you’d end up.
He was driving rather far away from the main town, you noticed, as fewer streetlamps illuminated the road. He continued until the main street twisted into a dirt road, winding behind neighborhoods and through trees. Your brow furrowed in confusion as Matt seemed completely content with himself, humming along to the radio as though he wanted to drive you to the middle of nowhere.
Matt was quirky – maybe he did.
The car pulled off the road and onto an abandoned farm. You held hope that this was the mystery destination, and that he’d finally stop the car and you could question him about the registration again. As the tires carefully climbed over the old, worn down bumps in the road, a rather large obstacle appeared in the way. You could hear the tire blow beneath you, the air hissing out of it as the rubber shredded away. Matt’s expression was broken as his Camaro ceased movement, stuck in its place due to its new lack of a front passenger tire. He put the car in park and killed the engine, throwing himself out of his door and scrambling around to your side. You carefully followed suit as he sank to the ground, pouting pitifully at the torn remains of his tire.
“What the hell was that?” you questioned, finding no spike or nail protruding from the rubber.
“No idea,” he sighed.
“You have a spare, don’t you?” you recalled, hoping to brighten his mood.
He winced. “That was the spare. I had to change it last week when my tire was balding – I haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet.”
“Okay, what’s going on?” you demanded. He stared up at you, a blank expression on his face, and you sighed. He was playing dumb. Grasping his arms, you pulled him to his feet.
“You never let your registration expire,” you informed him, and he chewed his lip. “And you never drive for more than a day on a spare tire,” you continued. “What’s going on? Are we short on money? Are we in trouble?”
“No, no,” he shook his head. “It’s nothing like that, I promise. I just- come here.” He lifted himself onto the hood of his Camaro, offering you a hand. You accepted it, hoisting yourself up as well, sitting beside him and allowing him to take your hands.
“We don’t have money problems,” he began. “I’m just a little short right now because…”
He trailed off, and you squeezed his hand, silently urging him to continue.
“(y/n), I love you,” he began. You opened your mouth to return the sentiment, but he cut you off. “I’ve always loved you. I didn’t think anyone could accept or love me as unconditionally as you do. And I have no idea how we’re going to get home tonight, but I do know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Your heart pounded in your chest, your eyes glued to his movements as he slid a hand into the front pocket of his jeans. He produced a small black box, taking hold of your left hand and lifting it to his face. He kissed across your knuckles, holding your gaze.
“Will you marry me?” he murmured, using his other hand to open the box and reveal the black diamond engagement band.
“Matt,” you gasped, your gaze flicking from the ring to his nervous expression. “Of course I will.”
He grinned, removing the ring from its box and sliding it onto your finger. His hand slid into your hair, pulling you in for a passionate kiss.
“So, wait,” you panted, reluctantly removing your lips from his. “Instead of replacing your tire and renewing your registration… You spent your money on this ring?”
He nodded sheepishly. “I know you don’t care about materialism and deep down, I knew you would have said yes. But I love you, babe, and you deserve the world. I wanted you to have a pretty ring to show off when you tell people you’re engaged.”
You lunged forward, capturing his lips. The sweet kisses and heavy breaths continued long into the night, until you fell asleep on the hood of his car, gazing up at the stars.

*Reference to one of my favorite TV shows.

Chapter Text

Hello all! I've decided to reopen this series - however, there are some changes. I've deleted all of the requests that I never got to writing, so I'm sorry if there was one you were looking forward to.

Please go check out the prompt list and updated page of fandoms and characters and make some requests! Remember that I only ask that you choose a prompt, character/ship, and genre (fluff, angst, smut, etc). No details for the one shot itself.

You're also welcome to choose any gender for the reader, though I will automatically write female if none is specified.

Thank you!

Chapter Text

“Bakugo… I like you.”

Bakugo Katsuki stared at the confession in his hands. The letter was long, nearly three pages front-to-back, and the paper was beginning to wrinkle from the intensity of his grip.

How did this happen?

You’d insisted upon befriending Bakugo during first year, despite having been placed in class 1-B and therefore hardly getting to spend time with the blond. You found ways around that; sparring sessions, homework nights, even the occasional movie night in the 1-A common room. You’d spent so much time around Bakugo that they’d adopted you as an honorary classmate, and they were ready to crown you royalty when you’d shown up for one particular game night with the explosive blond in tow. You’d become friends – close friends. Bakugo supposed he hadn’t minded that. But now, here you stood, two years later, presenting him with a letter of your true feelings.

“Uh… Bakugo?”

How could you let that happen? How could he?

“I’m going to be the number one hero,” he murmured gruffly, refusing to meet your eyes. The spark of hope that sat in your chest flickered weakly in response to his tone. You’d spend enough time around Bakugo to know his moods from a single grunt, and right now, he didn’t sound particularly enthused.

“I’m going to be number one,” he repeated. “I can’t do that if I let extras like you weigh me down.”

The flame in your chest was extinguished in an instant, suffocated by the stomp of Ground Zero’s boot. “Bakugo, I-“

“I don’t want to hear it,” he grumbled. His voice was low, nearly unrecognizable. It was a tone you’d never heard from him.

“Just go,” he growled, turning away from you. All you could do was stare at his back as he stalked down the hallway, footsteps heavy with anger. Tears bubbled in your lash line, blurring your vision, but you choked them back, standing pathetically in the middle of the hall.

The rest of the school year blurred into one muddled block of time. Your visits to the 3-A dorm had ceased nearly immediately upon Bakugo’s rejection of your feelings. You passed your friends in the hallway every now and then, and you didn’t shy away from a sparring match during mixed training days, but you kept your distance from Ground Zero and avoided discussing what had happened to your friendship. Mina and Kirishima had known the cause of the rift as soon as you stopped coming around, and they offered sympathetic glances and attempted words of encouragement whenever your classes trained together.

Graduation sneaked up on you before you’d even realized the school year had ended. You walked through the ceremony in a haze, barely tuning into the speeches and announcements. Friends, classmates, and pro heroes congratulated you on your success, as well as your impending position at Fatgum’s agency. You could only hope that Bakugo had accepted a job literally anywhere else, preferably at an agency that rarely interacted with Fatgum.

You weren’t working at the agency long before you were called to join Fatgum on patrol. Your heart hammered inside your chest as you strolled beside the BMI hero down the streets of Esuha City, keeping your eyes out for any lurking danger. This was your first patrol as a fully-fledged hero, and you were determined to make a good impression.

“So, (hero/n),” Fatgum beamed beside you, “what made you choose my agency? Word around the hero ranks is that you had quite a few offers by the time you graduated!”

“Oh!” you fumbled in surprise, heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, I’ve always admired you, Mr. Fatgum, sir. The way you always keep such a positive attitude even in the midst of a dangerous battle is inspiring. A lot of pro heroes are really intimidating, but you’re more genuine than that.”

“Aw, thanks kid! You’re making me blush!” the hero let out a laugh. “But please, just call me Fatgum! No need for that ‘Mr’ nonsense. You’re working with me, after all!”

“Not to be pedantic,” you countered, lifting a hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of your neck, “but technically I work for you.”

Fatgum shook his head. “I know a lot of pros see it that way; they like having subordinates to boss around. But you’ve seen how I interact with Suneater, haven’t you? I like to think of you guys as colleagues rather than employees.”

“I appreciate that si- Fatgum,” you replied with a soft smile. “That’s another reason I chose your agency. You respect all heroes, regardless of their rank or experience.”

Before he could respond, a scream sliced through the otherwise quiet afternoon. You shared a look with the BMI hero before you both took off towards the sound, the local citizens parting the way as you approached. The source of the scream was revealed to be a young woman, maybe a few years older than you, cowering on the pavement beneath a much larger man. Your footsteps alerted him to your presence, and he spun on his heel to face you and Fatgum. His mouth was open, his large tongue hanging down to the ground, tapered at the tip and barbed all the way down. His face appeared disfigured, his eyes pitch black and his jaw unhinged.

“He looks like something out of a sci-fi movie,” you commented, grounding your feet and preparing to activate your quirk.

“Keep your distance,” Fatgum warned. “That tongue looks like a long-range attack, and I don’t think those spikes would be too comfy.”

You nodded in agreement as the man, if he could even be called such, screeched at you, the sound akin to a pterodactyl. Looking lower, you found long claws taking place of his fingers, and a thick reptilian tail extended from his backside. Fatgum stood tall and firm as the mutated villain lunged forward, tongue extending to wrap around the hero’s frame. Once he collided with the hero’s belly, he bounced backwards, landing roughly on the ground. You dashed to the side, out of the villain’s sight, to check on the woman whose scream had caught your attention.

“Are you hurt?” you asked her quietly, checking for any obvious injuries.

“I’m okay,” she insisted. “You two came just in time. I think he was about to eat me!”

You took her hands in yours, helping her stand. “Get as far away from here as you can. We’ll take care of this guy.”

She nodded and bowed her head in thanks before running down the street, blending into the crowd. Just as you turned around, the mutated man turned his attention towards you, having lost interest in his one-sided fight against Fatgum. You could see tears in Fatgum’s costume, evidence that the reptilian villain had attempted quite a bit of damage. But now his focus was on you, and you barely had time to jump out of the way before his barbed tongue lashed towards you. You activated your quirk, but before you could charge in with a single attack, the villain spun around, his tail sweeping the ground where you stood, knocking you off your feet.

Fatgum charged forward, enveloping the villain with his fat and restricting his movements. The villain screeched again, leading you to weakly cover your ears before a flapping sound echoed through the air. Your gaze lifted to find what appeared to be another mutated man in the sky, flying with large, leathery wings. Upon spotting his restrained comrade, he dove down towards Fatgum, his sharp beak-like face stabbing into the hero’s shoulder. Fatgum grunted, stumbling backwards from the impact.

You rose to your feet, ready to rush to his aid when something wrapped around your torso. Looking down, you found what appeared to be scaled fingers as long and thick as your leg secured around your body. Struggling against its grasp, you turned your head to look behind you, coming face-to-face with a third disfigured villain.

Lunchtime found Ground Zero and Red Riot sitting on the roof of their shared apartment building, bento boxes packed by one Bakugo Katsuki in hand.

“What happened between you and (y/n), man?” Kirishima inquired suddenly and with all the subtlety of a stampeding elephant.

Bakugo fixed his garnet gaze on the sky above them. “We’re not friends anymore.”

The redhead huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I know that. I want to know why. You two used to be tight; tighter than you and me, and that’s saying something.”

The blond remained silent.

Kirishima watched his friend, coworker, and roommate for a moment. “What? Did they confess to you, or something?”

Bakugo’s gaze fell to the food he no longer had any desire to eat.

Kirishima’s own eyes widened. “Shit, man. Isn’t that a good thing? You’ve been in love with them since that first movie night they convinced you to join.”

The blond quickly turned towards his friend, brows furrowed as though he hadn’t been obviously pining over you for three years.

The redhead laughed, loud and genuine. “Did you think us extras didn’t notice? You never joined movie night for anyone, not even me. Plus, you let them sit on your lap, and you were practically vibrating when they fell asleep on you. Everyone knew how you felt about them, except for them. And maybe you.”

Bakugo’s expression turned sorrowful and his eyes fell back to his lap. “I know how I feel about them,” he murmured, his voice lacking its usual gravelly edge. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I know.”

“Then why didn’t you accept their confession?” his friend questioned lightly. When Bakugo didn’t respond, Kirishima exhaled a sigh. “You gave them the ‘number one hero’ speech, didn’t you?”

The explosive hero flinched. That was all the response Kirishima needed.

“When are you going to stop using that bullshit excuse to push people away?” he demanded. When Bakugo faced him with wide, surprised eyes, he continued. “You’re going to be number one hero. Everyone knows that. Why can’t you be number one while having a loving partner at your side? (y/n) has always supported you, even back before you were social. They understand how important this is to you. And I know how much you care about them. Why push them away?”

“That’s not why,” came Bakugo’s soft response. “That’s what I told them, but that’s not why I rejected them.”

Kirishima waited, quietly and patiently, for his friend to continue, knowing that encouraging him would only make him shut down.

The blond inhaled deeply before speaking again. “I’m going to be the number one hero,” he reiterated, and the hardening hero knew that it wasn’t just his ego talking now. “What if they get hurt? Being close to me means that villains can use them as leverage, or worse. And it’s like you said - they were there before I was social, when I thought everyone was just in my way. They don’t deserve that. They deserve to be with someone nice, someone like Deku maybe, someone who doesn’t treat them the way I did.”

Only Kirishima ever saw this side of Bakugo - vulnerable, honest, insecure. He knew there was always more to Bakugo’s emotions than the explosive, sandpaper surface.

“That’s exactly why they deserve you, and you deserve them,” he responded softly, earnestly. “You’ve never cared this much about how you treat anyone. You’ve grown so much since our first year at UA, man. You’re a mature hero now, and when you become number one, you’ll have the power and resources to protect people like (y/n). Do you think they would have confessed to you if you were still that antisocial asshat from first year? They’ve watched you grow as a person, grow closer to them. And then you just ripped all of that away.”

Bakugo flinched again. He knew that rejecting your confession must have gutted you, if how miserable he felt about it was anything to go by. But before he could fathom a response, a distress call came in through their earpieces.

“All nearby heroes summoned to Esuha City,” came Fatgum’s staticy voice, and Bakugo’s heart raced in his chest. “(hero/n) and I were attacked, and when the villains realized they couldn’t hurt me, they all launched at (hero/n). I need someone to take them to the hospital while the rest of us take these villains down.”

Bakugo’s heart dropped to his stomach. You were hurt. He jumped to his feet, Kirishima following suit, leaving their bento boxes unopened on the rooftop as they sped to your location.

The steady beep of your heartrate monitor echoed in the otherwise silent hospital room. Ground Zero sat, still in his hero costume, in an uncomfortable chair beside your bed. His elbows rested on his knees as he hunched forward, holding his forehead in his hands. He’d refused to leave the hospital after reluctantly handing you over to the staff so that they could tend to your injuries, demanding an update on your progress every half hour. Were he not a newly popular hero, security would have escorted him away. Thankfully, Red Riot stayed close by to keep the explosive hero grounded while they waited for the doctors to finish patching you up.

As soon as you’d been assigned a room, Bakugo had stationed himself at your bedside and refused to leave. Friends and colleagues had come and gone to check on you as well as Bakugo, knowing that he was irrationally blaming himself for your current state.

“You need to talk to them,” was Deku’s first response upon seeing the blond in your hospital room. Once the villains had been neutralized and Fatgum had been checked over, green hero had made his way as quickly as possible to the hospital to ensure that you had survived your injuries.

“I know,” Bakugo grumbled in response, refusing to look his childhood friend in the eye. He lifted his head from his hands and gazed sorrowfully at your sleeping face, littered with scrapes and bruises. His garnet eyes traveled down your form, taking in the number of bandages and casts wrapped around various parts of your body. He couldn’t help but think if only he’d been there-

“This wasn’t your fault,” Deku commented, his gaze darting between Bakugo’s self-loathing and your peaceful face. “There was nothing you could have done. (y/n) is a capable hero; there were just too many villains. You did exactly what they needed by bringing them here to get help.”

The blond exhaled a deep sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath. “I know.”

A soft gasp sounded in the nearly silent room, and two sets of eyes turned towards you. Your lips were parted and your eyes began to flutter, and Deku took it as his cue to leave. He closed the door behind him, offering the two of you some much-needed privacy.

Bakugo jumped to his feet, but his legs suddenly turned to lead as he attempted to approach your bed. He watched as your eyes opened and you blinked wearily at your surroundings. Hesitation gripped every bone in his body and all he could do was stare helplessly.

Your head turned, catching sight of the blond at your side, and your eyes widened. “Bakugo?” you whispered, your voice raspy. “What are you doing here?”

The sound of your voice was enough for the blond to push himself forward, walking closer until he stood directly beside your bed. His hands gripped at the railing as he looked at you, brows furrowed and mouth agape, his brain struggling to form words.

“I’m sorry.”

Well, shit. He wasn’t planning to jump into an apology. He was hoping to prepare himself a little more first.

Your brow furrowed as you gazed at your former classmate and long-time crush. “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”

“Everything,” he exhaled, dropping to his knees as gazing into your tired eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you were hurt; when you needed me. I’m sorry I pushed you away when you confessed to me. I’m sorry I just threw away everything we had.”

Your face turned stoic, and Bakugo’s heart pounded in his chest.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you murmured softly, your gaze drifting away from the blond. “You didn’t return my feelings. You wanted to focus on being a hero. I understood that; I never blamed you for it.”

Bakugo shook his head. “I lied,” he admitted, and his chest fluttered. “That wasn’t why I rejected you, I was just too afraid to be honest with myself, or with you.”

You turned back to face the explosive hero, eyes widened with surprise and the smallest sliver of hope. “Why... Why did you reject me, then?”

He inhaled deeply, steeling his nerves before holding your gaze. He reached up with one hand, gingerly placing it atop yours, squeezing gently when you didn’t pull away.

“If I’m going to become the number one hero, I’m gonna make a lot of enemies,” he explained, his thumb rubbing across the back of your bandaged hand. “With my personality, the media would be all over any kind of relationship I had. They’d find out everything they could about you, and villains would use that to their advantage. They could hurt you to get to me, and I refuse to let that happen.”

“Bakugo...” you breathed, your heart breaking as you considered how he must have been carrying this weight with him since the day you confessed. You squeezed his hand in return to the best of your ability, drawing his attention.

“Bakugo, you forget that I’m a hero too,” you smiled softly. “I’m already in danger, and dating a pro hero is much safer than dating a civilian. We’d be able to protect each other, and I knew when I confessed to you back at UA that being number one was your only goal, and that it would be a dangerous lifestyle. I still loved you then, Bakugo Katsuki, and I do now.”

“It wasn’t my only goal,” the blond murmured, his gaze dropping down to your joined hands. “My main goal, yeah, but I had another.”

You waited patiently for him to continue, teeth gnawing at your lower lip.

“I always wanted to make you happy,” Bakugo admitted, refusing to meet your eyes. “When I let you drag me to those stupid movie nights, or sit on my lap, or snuggle into my chest. The smile on your face was more than worth dealing with my classmates and their stupid stares.”

He rose to his feet, standing before leaning over your figure. Your eyes followed his every move, your free hand lifting to gently brush his cheek. He inhaled shakily at your touch, his hand coming to cradle your face. He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over yours, and your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured before finally closing the gap and capturing your lips. A hum sounded in his throat as the feeling of finally kissing you washed over him. You hummed in return, your hand drifting down to tug at the collar of his hero costume.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, and you chased his words with another kiss.

“I love you too,” you responded before opening your eyes and gazing up into his garnet eyes.

“How about I go home and change-“

Bakugo was cut off by your grip tightening on his shirt, your head shaking adamantly. His brow furrowed as he waited for a verbal response.

“You’re not allowed to leave me anymore,” you murmured softly, and he deflated at the expression on your face.

“Okay,” he smiled softly. “I promise.” He took a step back in order to remove his boots. His gauntlets, mask, headpiece, and neck piece had already been discarded during the hours he waited for you to wake up. His boots soon joined the collection on the floor before he turned back to you and watched as you shifted to make room for him in your hospital bed. He crawled in as gently as possible, outstretching an arm for you to lay on. You curled into his chest, careful not to apply pressure to any of your wounds. His arms wrapped securely, protectively around you, and the next time one of your pro hero friends came to check on you, they’d find the two of you fast asleep and wrapped up in each other.

Chapter Text

The hustle and bustle of the local mall wasn’t nearly loud enough to distract you from the familiar face you spotted at the other end of the food court. You shrunk down in your seat, hiding behind Sugawara who sat to your right. The silver-haired former setter lifted a brow in response, espresso-colored eyes scanning the mall to confirm his suspicions as to why you had suddenly ducked. He nodded curtly to himself upon spying Oikawa and Iwaizumi stationed in line at one of the food counters, having not noticed the two of you sitting at a table.

“Do not let him see me,” you whimpered, unable to even lift your gaze to look at Suga’s face.

Suga scoffed in response. “What kind of best friend do you think I am?”

Having suddenly lost your appetite, you closed the to-go container in which your food had been served before pushing it away from you. Your hand grasped the plastic cup that contained your boba tea, cradling it to your chest as you gnawed nervously on the tip of the straw.

The former setter wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders, packing up his own leftovers before glancing down at you. He tilted his head in a silent question, and after inhaling deeply, you offered a nod in response. He kept his arm around you as he stood from his seat, gently coaxing you to follow suit. Stepping around the table, the two of you made your way out of the food court, Suga positioning himself between you and the two former Aoba Johsai players so that they were less likely to catch a glimpse of you. Considering how your relationship with the former ace had ended, you didn’t anticipate Iwaizumi attempting to approach you. But Oikawa had a habit of shoving his nose where it didn’t belong, and you were almost certain he would try to strike up a conversation with you just to see you and Iwaizumi in the same room.

As you and Suga ventured through the mall in search of the exit, you kept your gaze on the ground, failing to notice a pair of olive eyes glazed with remorse following your figure.

Sugawara had been there for you throughout your breakup with Iwaizumi. Having been your best friend since middle school, the setter had half a mind to track down the wing spiker and give him a piece of his mind. But you’d begged him to leave it alone, to let you just process the breakup without any altercations.

After leaving the mall, Suga took you back to your apartment. You didn’t bother welcoming him inside – you’d spend the night with one another enough times that your apartment was like his second home, as his apartment was yours.

“How are you feeling?” the silver-haired man inquired, plopping down on your couch and watching as you dropped down beside him. He extended an arm, allowing you to snuggle into his side with a heavy exhale.

Every once in a while, a passerby would catch sight of how cuddly the two of you were and question why you and Suga weren’t dating, especially after Iwaizumi had broken up with you.

You’d never looked at Suga that way, and besides, you’d walked in on him and Daichi enough times to know that the silver-haired boy definitely didn’t play for your team.

“Exhausted,” you sighed. “I thought I was over it, but seeing him today, even from afar…” Your gaze dropped to your lap, feeling ashamed as old feelings began to bubble in your chest.

“I get it,” Suga nodded supportively. “He was a big part of your life, and honestly, your breakup was kind of bullshit. Plus, you haven’t seen him since that night, have you?”

You shook your head. “No, I haven’t. And since we went to different colleges, I didn’t think I’d run into him. We didn’t really like hanging out in the same places.”

Again, the former setter nodded. “It was probably just a fluke. He was with Oikawa – you know how social that guy is. I don’t think Iwaizumi spends much time at the mall or any social setting when Oikawa isn’t around.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you nodded, finally glancing up at your best friend. “There’s a new episode of The Resident.”

He offered you a grin, and that was all the agreement you needed before you were reaching for the TV remote.

Two weeks later, you found yourself fidgeting with your fingers as you stood on the porch of Kuroo and Tsukishima’s shared house. To your left stood Sugawara and Daichi, who offered you reassuring smiles as Suga reached out to knock upon the door. You’d all been invited over to celebrate Kuroo’s birthday, and you’d anticipated, before receiving confirmation from Tsukishima, that it would be a large gathering of former volleyball players. The chemistry major never lacked acquaintances, and his idea of a party was boisterous and busy. But you were hoping that so many people packed into one building meant there would be plenty of interference to protect you in case a certain former wing spiker decided to make an appearance.

“Hey, hey, hey!” the familiar crow of Bokuto found your ears the second you set food inside the house. You turned to the right to find him lingering in the entryway of the kitchen, bottles of various alcohols clutched in either hand. "Glad you guys could come! Can I make anyone a drink?”

Normally, you weren’t much of a drinker, but you figured you might need something to take the edge off tonight. With a nod, you followed the owl-haired man into the kitchen, waving to Suga and Daichi as you parted ways.

You managed to make small talk with Bokuto, which consisted primarily of listening to his enthusiastic stories about playing for MSBY, while you sipped your drink, cautiously taking note of the fact that you’d yet to see any former Aoba Johsai players at the party. You refused to allow yourself to relax, however. You hadn’t anticipated seeing Oikawa and Iwaizumi at the mall – you couldn’t get too comfortable just because the house was packed with Karasuno, Nekoma, and Fukurodani alumni.

“(Y/n)-chan!” cooed a familiar voice, and you nearly dropped your Solo cup in surprise.

“Oikawa,” you greeted stiffly, refusing to meet his gaze. You could feel your heart pounding faster in your chest, and you willed yourself to calm down, the plastic cup in your hand crinkling in protest as your fingers tightened around it.

“Long time, no see!” the brunet chirped as though you were long-time friends instead of his best friend’s ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah,” you replied curtly, keeping your eyes low and desperately hoping you spontaneously developed telepathy and could summon Suga to your side.

Fate was not your friend tonight, it seemed.

“Oikawa, where did you- oh. (y/n).”

You’d know that voice anywhere. On the radio, over speakerphone, across a crowded airport.

“I have to go,” you forced out, slamming your cup onto the nearest counter and shuffling out of the kitchen as quickly as humanly possible.

The air grew thin as you weaved in-between drunken college students poorly attempting to dance. You frantically scanned every inch of every room for your silver-haired sanctuary, your eyes brimming with unshed tears the longer you looked.

“(y/n)?” came Suga’s soothing voice, and you choked back a sob upon finding him seated on the couch beside Daichi. You collapsed onto the seat beside him, and Suga offered Daichi an apologetic smile before pulling you onto his lap.

“Are you alright?” the brunet inquired gently, having a good idea as to what has caused such distress in such a short amount of time. You managed to shake your head from where it was nestled in Suga’s neck, your fingers clutching at his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped. “I-I didn’t mean to interrupt-“

“Don’t apologize,” Suga murmured, his warm hand rubbing gently across your back. “I didn’t see them, so I was hoping they wouldn’t be here, or at the very least that they wouldn’t approach you.”

“Was it Oikawa?” Daichi questioned, recalling how outgoing the setter was.

You nodded, inhaling a deep, shaky breath.

“What did he say?” Suga asked, resting his head atop yours.

“Nothing,” you whimpered. “He just... He came up to me and tried to make small talk like we were old friends. And of course he came looking for Oikawa and I just-“

Suga shushed you softly. “It’s a lot to handle. Neither of them should be bothering you after what Iwaizumi did.”

“Do you want to head home?” Daichi asked. “I’d be happy to give you a ride.”

“No, you guys are enjoying the party,” you exhaled a sigh. “Just keep him away from me.”

You shifted out of Suga’s lap, taking the empty cushion beside him instead. Daichi hesitated to ensure that you didn’t need any extra physical comfort before he shuffled closer to his boyfriend and dropped his head onto Suga’s shoulder.

The living room had become the center of dancing and groping, and while it wasn’t your idea of visual entertainment, you appreciated the sheer number of people blocking your view of the kitchen. Feeling distanced from the two former Aoba Johsai players, you allowed yourself a deep breath, closing your eyes as you exhaled. Your weight sank into the couch beneath you, and your senses filled with the atrocious techno that Kuroo had selected for his party playlist.

“(y/n), can we talk-“

No sooner had you opened your eyes than Suga leapt from his spot on the couch and stood firmly between you and Iwaizumi.

“Why is this so difficult for you to grasp?” the silver-haired former setter growled, and Daichi rose to place a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Few had ever seen the rage currently burning in Suga’s eyes, which meant that Iwaizumi had few precious moments before he would be on the floor nursing a bloody nose.

“Suga, don’t,” you pleaded, touching his other arm. “I’m just going to go. Say goodbye to Kuroo for me.”

You weaved around the trio, squeezing in-between drunk partygoers to make your way to the front door. You could only hope Iwaizumi would take the hint and not follow you outside.

Luck, as it turned out, was not on your side.

The chill of the November air nipped at your ears and nose as you stumbled out of Kuroo’s house and took a seat on the porch steps. The cold from the stone beneath you seeped into your legs, cooling your entire body and you wrapped your arms around yourself in a poor attempt at conserving your body heat. You’d come to the party with Sugawara in Daichi’s car, and your apartment was a bit too long of a walk, especially alone and in this weather. But you felt bad pulling them away from the party when they had been enjoying themselves perfectly fine without your drama, so you sat by yourself, contemplating the series of events that had led to this moment.

At least, you’d hoped you were by yourself.

A figure dropped their weight onto the icy step beside you, and you didn’t have to look to know who it was. One inhale through your nose filled your senses with an all-too familiar cologne; one you’d bought him for his birthday because you’d sampled it at a boutique and thought it smelled delicious.

You kept your gaze down, tightening your grip on yourself as though that would hide you away from him, somehow.

“(y/n), please.”

You could hear the desperation in his voice. It wasn’t a tone one often heard coming from the former wing spiker.

You squeezed your eyes closed before opening them, slowly turning your head to face the man you’d once loved so deeply.

If you were being honest, you still loved him. But he’d made it clear that he didn’t love you, so you had to tuck that part of you away.

“What?” you demanded, your voice much softer than you’d hoped it would be. All the spite and anger you’d once harbored in your chest had faded, leaving heartbreak and exhaustion in its wake. You gazed up at the brunet with hard, sad eyes, lips slightly parted, your breath visible as you exhaled into the frosty air.

He swallowed thickly, his brow furrowing at the sight of sheer hurt etched into your features. “I’m sorry,” he managed to whisper.

You’d desired an apology for so long. An apology, an explanation, a retraction. Any combination thereof.

But it had been too long now, and you couldn’t forgive him without proper closure. “For what? What exactly are you sorry for, Iwaizumi?”

He visibly winced at the sound of his surname falling from your lips, rather than his given name or, your preferred nickname, “Haji.”

“For lying to you,” he exhaled, his left hand reaching out towards yours that still had a tight grasp on your sleeve. He stopped just shy of actually touching your skin, as though he was suddenly unsure of how you’d react. “For telling you that you could never be as important to me as my career. For using university and the distance as an excuse to avoid telling you what I was truly afraid of.”

As you’d done many times since, you suddenly recalled the breakup as though it’d happened yesterday. You and Iwaizumi had met in high school, as first years, during one of the training games between Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. You’d gotten to know the former ace over the years, and he’d gotten the courage to ask you out about halfway through your second year of high school. From then on, you’d been inseparable, save for the distance between your homes and the struggle of trying to spend time together in between homework and volleyball practices. Everyone thought you were high school sweethearts that would last, go to college together, get an apartment and perhaps a dog, and have a romantic story to tell your future children.

Everyone including you.

But then it came time to apply for university, and though you’d always told one another that it didn’t matter where either of you went, that blissful fantasy shattered as though it’d been hit with a mallet once you each received your acceptance letters.

To different colleges in different towns.

You’d been insistent that it could still work out. You’d gotten used to the long distance struggles, and since Iwaizumi had explicitly stated that he didn’t plan on continuing volleyball through university, there was one less obstacle standing between you.

Iwaizumi, apparently, had a different perspective.

He’d shut down every suggestion you made regarding how to navigate your long distance relationship into college life. It was almost as though he didn’t want to continue, like he was looking for a reason to break up with you and decided to pin it on life events instead of taking responsibility. He’d told you that college was too important, that he had to focus if he wanted to make something of himself, that your relationship would probably fizzle out eventually, anyway, so you might as well just end it.

That was the last you’d heard from him.

“What was the real reason, then?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from gazing into his deep green eyes and feeling all of the emotions he was hiding inside them.

“I was afraid to lose you,” he whispered, as though speaking any louder would scare you away. “I knew that you would love your university, and whatever program you decided to major in. I knew that you’d make new friends, meet new guys who had more to offer you, like living nearby. I couldn’t handle the idea of being in a relationship when we went to separate colleges, then losing you because you found a better life without me in it and you were tired of me holding you back.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, certainly loud enough that he could hear it. Your hands released the fabric of your shirt so that you could let one drift towards Iwaizumi, where he had left his hand resting on the pavement beneath you out of fear that you would push him away. You weren’t quite brave enough to take his hand in yours, but you did let your fingers brush against his, and a chill crawled up your spine at the contact.

“For what it’s worth,” you murmured, unable to tear your gaze away, “I haven’t dated anyone, local or otherwise. I... I couldn’t think about dating anyone but you.”

“I’m sorry,” he exhaled, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Now that you’ve told me the truth,” you began, your fingers slowly dancing further onto his hand, “and we’ve established that your plan sucked, what are we going to do about it?”

“I’m going to beg for a second chance,” the brunet responded nearly immediately, turning his hand over in order to lace his fingers through yours. “I’m in love with you. I have been since high school, and I was so stupid to think I could ever get on without you.”

“I don’t hear any begging,” you countered, trying and failing to keep the smirk from your lips.

He caught it, and the corner of his mouth tugged upwards as well. “Please, please, (y/n). Would you be my girlfriend again?”

You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face. “Yeah, Haji, I think I will.”

His grin rivaled yours, and he lifted his head to press a tender kiss to your forehead. You melted into the contact, shuffling closer to him and tilting your head up to look at him once he pulled away. The hand that wasn’t intertwined with yours found purchase on your chin, his thumb softly rubbing into your skin. His head dipped down, his nose nudging yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as he shifted forward, his lips slotting perfectly against yours. You hummed into the kiss, no longer aware of the cold biting your skin or seeping into your pants. Iwaizumi made a noise low in his throat before he deepened the kiss, the hand on your chin sliding to the back of your head and grasping lightly at your hair. Your free hand rose up to rest on his forearm, and you stifled a whimper at the feel of his toned muscles from years of volleyball under your fingers.

“I should get you inside,” he murmured, reluctantly pulling away. “I’d hate for my partner to turn into a popsicle right after I won them back.”

You giggled softly. “That’s a good idea.” You untangled yourself from his grasp and rose to your feet, accepting the hand that he offered to you and lacing your fingers through his once more. He led you back into Kuroo’s house, where the party was still raging on. Bokuto, the adorable lightweight that was, had passed out on the couch, stretched across Akaashi’s lap. The latter appeared unfazed, scrolling on his phone with one hand while the other combed through black and silver hair.

The space on the couch beside Sugawara was empty, so you led Iwaizumi that way. He hesitated once the former setter came into view, and Suga’s eyes narrowed upon seeing the two of you so close. But once he glanced down and saw your joined hands, he smiled softly, deciding that he would back off until he received a full recap from you.

Iwaizumi sensed the shift in the mood and allowed himself to relax. He dropped onto the couch and pulled you down onto his lap, his arms secure around your waist. You faced Suga and Daichi, making small talk about the other partygoers as though you hadn’t been on the verge of a panic attack just an hour previous. You settled comfortably against Iwaizumi’s chest, deciding that the logistics of your newly rekindled relationship could wait a few more days.

Chapter Text

The vibration of the bass playing inside could be felt on the pavement leading up to Toga Himiko’s apartment. You wondered how she hadn’t yet received a noise complaint from her neighbors; surely they could hear and feel the music inside their residences much more obnoxiously than you did from outside? Or were the inside walls miraculously soundproof?

Shaking your head with a soft chuckle on your breath, you lifted a hand to knock at the door. A foolish move, you realized immediately afterward. With music this loud, there was no way anyone would have heard you. Shrugging to yourself, you grasped the door handle and turned it, pressing the front door open. Toga never minded people letting themselves into her place, though you always insisted on being polite when you came to visit.

A rush of warm air surrounded you as you padded into the much-too-small-for-this-many-people apartment. The music was so loud that it swept you through the entryway, the bass pounding into your feet making you feel like you were floating. You hardly recognized any of the partygoers in their costumes, coupled with their horrible drunken dancing. Squeezing yourself around the twerking and grinding, you successfully weaved your way into the kitchen where drinks and snacks could be found.

Atop the counter sat a half-empty punch bowl, evident of how much alcohol had already been consumed. Melting ice cubes and haphazardly sliced fruit floated atop the concoction, and as you reached out to grasp a plastic cup from the counter, a familiar voice squealed behind you.

“(y/n)! You came!”

You spun on your heel and came face-to-face with the hostess herself, sporting a black, skin-tight, Morticia Addams-esque dress accompanied by a push-up bra that had her breasts spilling out above the neckline. Toga’s sandy blonde locks were tied up and hidden beneath a silky black wig, and her golden eyes were heavily lined in black and red eyeshadow. Blood red lipstick adorned her lips, and her natural fangs only aided her appearance.

“Hey, Toga!” you grinned, stepping into a hug. “You look amazing! Vampire queen?”

She beamed in response. “Of course! What’s sexier than a vampire on Halloween?”

She stepped back from the hug and eyed you up and down, taking in your creamy off-shoulder peasant shirt tucked into a solid black corset, cinched with golden clasps and adorned with grey floral swirls. Skin-tight leather pants covered your legs and your feet were settled in knee-high high-heeled pirate boots, decorated with golden buckles.

Toga’s gaze drifted back up to your hair which had been curled elegantly and partially hidden beneath a dark chocolate tricorn hat from which a black-and-white feather protruded.

“Pirate queen,” she grinned widely, approval evident in her golden irises.

You offered a laugh in response, turning back to the punch bowl on the counter to finally pour yourself a drink. “You know it.”

“Help yourself to anything,” the blonde told you, leaning an elbow on the counter beside you. “I made the punch myself.”

“I can smell it,” you chuckled, bringing the plastic cup to your lips and taking a tentative sip. It burned your throat as it went down, and you stifled a cough. “How many bottles this time? Four?”

“How did you know?” Toga giggled. “It’s no fun if you can’t feel it in your bones.”

Rolling your eyes, you followed the vampire queen through her single apartment, offering muffled greetings to the handful of costumed party-goers that you recognized. You lost Toga in the crowd when a pop song blasted through the speakers and she threw herself into a group of dancers, but you didn’t mind.

Weaving through the surrogate dance floor that was the living room, you found your way to the cream-colored, worn out loveseat. Your plans of sitting down were tarnished when you spotted a Playboy bunny making out with a Viking, their writhing bodies taking up the entire sofa. Glancing around, you spotted an end table nearby and, with a shrug, seated yourself atop the faded wood.

As you sipped your pungent cocktail, your gaze wandered throughout the attendees, wondering if you’d recognize a single one of them. Though you and Toga had been friends for years, you had drifted into different social circles once you started college. There was no malice or wrongdoing involved; your majors were just so different that you had no classes in common, and that invited new groups of peers for each of you.

Your gaze fell upon a face that you recognized from Toga’s descriptions alone. Patches of his skin were stained a plum shade from adolescent burns, held in place by shiny staples. His unruly black hair lent itself to his zombie attire, along with a bloodstained wifebeater tank top, ripped black jeans, and black leather boots. He stood near the edge of the dance mob, swaying more than grooving, with a plastic cup in his hand as he chatted with his friends.

Part of Burn Zombie’s evident circle was Deadpool, who spoke animatedly with his hands flailing around him. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but Zombie seemed to be amused, genuine laughter stretching his stapled lips.

Standing nearby, though slightly behind Zombie, was a slightly shorter man, his shoulders hunched as though he wished to disappear. A long black robe hid most of his figure, and the black hood draped over his head covered his hair and forehead. Only his garnet eyes and scarred lips could be seen in the flashing dance floor lights which reflected off of the plastic reaper scythe he held carelessly in one arm.

A cheerful laugh cut through the blasting music, and you couldn’t help but scan the crowd for the source. A new figure had joined Zombie and Reaper, his golden, shoulder-length hair braided tightly to keep it out of his handsome face. A Nordic rune hung from one ear, and other runes were drawn in black paint on his tanned cheeks and sharp nose. A grey cotton tunic was tucked into black leather trousers and accompanied by brown leather boots that were adorned with sandy tufts of fur and espresso buckles and straps. The sleeves of the tunic were rolled to the blond’s elbows, revealing toned forearms decorated with leather cuffs that displayed more runes.

Your teeth gnawed absent-mindedly at the rim of your plastic cup as you found your eyes glued to the most recent party guest. The blond had an elbow propped up against Zombie’s shoulder, though the latter stood a few inches taller than him. You tried to tear your gaze away, you really did, but his melodious laugh and sparkling eyes kept you tethered.

“His name is Takami Keigo,” Toga’s familiar voice murmured into your ear, causing you to gasp in surprise. You turned to face her quickly, feeling a blush creeping across your cheeks.

“What? Who?” you dodged lamely.

She cackled devilishly, taking a swig of her own beverage. “The Viking. He and Dabi are roommates - Dabi is the burned zombie over there.”

“Is that makeup?” you inquired curiously before your brain could stop your mouth.

“The blood, yes,” the blonde beside you hummed. “The staples, no. Terrible accident when he was a kid. His brother has a scar, too.”

“Damn,” you exhaled, but your concern was quickly overshadowed by the Viking - Takami Keigo - catching sight of Toga and offering her what you hoped was not a flirtatious wink before he left his bros and sauntered your way.

“Kei!” Toga squealed, leaping forward and throwing her arms around him. You watched awkwardly as he wrapped a single arm around her waist, patting her side affectionately.

“Himiko,” he returned, his golden eyes catching your gaze as he ended the embrace. “Who’s your friend?”

Toga turned towards you with a mischievous grin. “Keigo, this is (y/n)! (y/n), this is Takami Keigo. You two have fun!”

She skipped into the crowd, leaving you feeling rather exposed under the blond’s intense, suave gaze. You were suddenly aware of just how much cleavage you had popping out of your corset, and you shifted in your seat.

“Mind if I join you?” he questioned, stepping forward confidently, though his expression told you that he’d walk away if you asked him to.

“If you’d like,” you managed to reply, resisting the urge to shove your fist into your mouth to keep yourself from saying something stupid, embarrassing, or both.

He perched himself beside you, squeezing his (probably toned) ass atop the end table. The space was minimal, his thigh pressing against yours, and the heat radiating from his body had your imagination running rampant. His right hand found purchase beside your left, his pinky brushing against yours and sending chills throughout your body.

You had no idea how much time had passed as you sat beside the blond, swapping stories of failed tests and Monday morning hangovers, of inconsiderate roommates and shitty first dates. You were pleasantly surprised by how much he made you laugh, and how easy it felt to talk and laugh with him despite it being your first meeting and how incredibly attractive he was.


The time on your cell phone read 3:25 AM by the time the party began winding down. Several drunks had passed out on various surfaces inside Toga’s apartment, and you did not envy the marathon of cleanup that lay ahead of her. Other partygoers that were still relatively coherent had found their way back to their own homes or had gone home with friends.

Neither you nor Keigo- he’d insisted that you call him that, over Takami- had moved from your shared station, engaged in intense eye contact and sexual tension.

“I suppose I should go, too,” you murmured hesitantly, your gaze briefly dropping to his pink lips before quickly returning to his amber eyes.

“Shame,” he smirked, and you swore his gaze copied yours, causing your heart to beat faster in your chest. He leaned in closer, setting aside his empty plastic cup so that he had a free hand with which to grasp your chin. The slightest gasp escaped your parted lips as you found yourself unable to look away.

“Suppose I’d better make a move before I lose my shot,” he whispered, deep and husky, his breath coating your lips before he dove in and claimed them with his own. You should have been embarrassed by the needy whimper that emanated from your throat at the contact, or the way you desperately leaned into the kiss, your right hand dropping your empty cup so that you could grasp onto his wrist.

All of your senses were flooded with Keigo; the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and spice; the wet sound of lips meeting and parting, testing different angles and exchanges of saliva; the taste of Toga’s knockout party punch on his tongue as it wrapped around yours; the tingling sensation spreading through your entire being as his grip on your chin tightened ever so slightly; the fireworks exploding behind your eyes as you lost yourself in this moment.

“Can I see you again?” he questioned, pulling back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours; so close that you could still feel his panting breath on your face.

You nodded eagerly, biting back the urge to suggest that he could continue seeing you now if he wanted to take you home. Insecurity overtook you, and you worried that such a response would come off sounding desperate and easy.

“As much as I’d love to spend more time with you now,” he smirked, the hand on your chin sliding up your jaw and landing at the base of your neck, “I think it would be more fun to build up to it.”

He pulled further away and you stifled a whimper of disappointment. He took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “How about your number?”

You offered a smile as he unlocked his phone and handed it to you, waiting patiently as you typed your name and number into his contacts. Passing his phone back, you tried not to shudder as his fingers brushed over yours. He smiled at you, smooth and confident and genuine, and you averted your gaze.

“Yo, Viking,” called a familiar voice, and both you and Keigo turned to find Dabi and the Reaper standing near the door, Dabi sporting a knowing grin. “You got a ride back to the apartment?”

“Yeah,” the blond returned with a nod. Dabi and Reaper nodded back before leaving, and Keigo turned his attention back to you.

He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Until next time, gorgeous.”

With that, he sauntered away, leaving you breathless and desperate for your next meeting.

Chapter Text

A sigh falls from your lips as you collapse on your small couch, one arm draping over the side as you sink against the back cushions. The seat beside you dipped, and you turned your head to offer your best friend a tired smile as he settled himself and his large wings into the space.
Midterms had finally passed, and though you were beyond stressed about your grades, you were grateful that all testing had been completed and you could take a break from studying. You and Takami had begun a bi-quarterly tradition to celebrate the passing of midterm and final exams. You would gather (usually in your dorm because you were one of the lucky few to have been assigned to a single and Takami constantly complained about his dormmates, one whose quirk set things on fire when he got pissed off and one whose chronic insomnia had him commandeering the common room TV with video games at all hours) with sodas and snacks and browse a streaming service to watch the lowest budget horror movie you could find.

You’d known Takami since high school and you were both ecstatic to find that you’d been accepted into the same university and wouldn’t have to part ways. You spend almost all of your free time together, whether it be studying, shopping at the campus store, attempting to cook together (neither of you were particularly skilled in the kitchen but you both tried), or just talking about your lives. If you were honest with yourself, you’d begun harboring a crush on the winged blond, but you didn’t dare confess. You heard the way he talked about other girls around campus, the traits he found attractive, and they didn’t apply to you. You couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone on a date, and you would certainly know if he had because, despite his suave facade, he would have come to you first, panicked about what to wear and where to take her.

“I’ve never hated midterms so much,” he groaned, stretching his long legs before crossing one over the other. “I can’t stand business classes.”

“Then why did you major in business?” you chuckled, lifting the TV remote and pressing buttons to pull up the streaming service.

“My dad’s paying my tuition,” Takami sighed. “I have to do as he says.”

You hummed noncommittally, knowing that his relationship with his family was tense at best. You focused your attention on browsing independent horror movies, stumbling upon one with a sloth on the cover.

“Slotherhouse?” Takami chuckled with interest.

Your gaze turned towards him, excitement sparkling in your eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Do it.”

You hit “play” and set the remote down, plucking a bag of chips from the coffee table. You tore it open and popped a few into your mouth before holding the bag out to Takami, smiling as he reached his hand in to take a few.

A contented hum sounded in your throat as you considered how your life had turned out thus far. Sure, the guy you were massively crushing on was your best friend who had no idea how you felt, but at least you had the most supportive best friend you could have asked for. And you had this recurring tradition to look forward to every few months, motivating you to study and survive through exam week. Plus, you spent a lot of time outside of school together, which didn’t help your romantic feelings whatsoever, but the one-on-one time with the blond made you feel special in a way you never had before.

Movie night progressed as it always did - by the halfway point of the movie, the two of you had shifted your positions on the couch. Takami leaned back against one arm, crimson wings expanding around him so as not to be cramped behind him. One leg was outstretched across the cushions, the other resting on the floor. You were lying against him, your back to his front, legs bent and resting comfortably on the remaining cushions. Even if he only ever looked at you in a platonic light, you would treasure these moments, cuddling with him in your single dorm as you endured an abomination of a horror movie.

Exhaustion crept up on you as a result of numerous all-nighters in order to study and review your work, fueled by energy drinks and store-bought sweets, and without warning, you dozed off, resting comfortably against Takami’s torso. His heart fluttered at the sound your breathing evening out, and he hoped to whatever deity was listening that you couldn’t hear how hard it pounded.

You weren’t asleep for long before a jump scare in the movie shook the speakers, and you. You leapt upward in surprise, momentarily confused as you were shocked back into consciousness. Losing your balance, you tumbled forward, arms outstretched to catch yourself before you hit the carpet.

A hand on your wrist turned your torso, and another hand cradled the back of your head, softening the impact of the floor. Takami was positioned above you, crimson wings flapping gently behind him, holding him up so that his arms were free to hold you close.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmured as you gazed up at him, finding yourself lost in his amber eyes.

He was quiet for a moment, chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. “It was kinda... automatic. I didn’t even think about it. I just... didn’t want you to fall.”

“It’s like two feet,” you replied dumbly, unable to tear yourself from his gaze. Without your permission, your free hand reached out, resting gently on his chest. You could feel his pectoral muscles beneath your fingers and tried desperately not to focus on them, or imagine what they looked like without his shirt blocking your view.

“Maybe... I wanted an excuse,” Takami admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Were you hallucinating, or was his face slowly shifting closer to yours?

“An excuse for what?”

A single heartbeat passed before the blond above you closed the gap, his lips pressing tenderly to yours. You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, lips moving against his before he could pull away. They were just as soft as you’d always imagined, having caught him applying Chapstick more times than you could count (”They dry out when I’m flying, you know?).

The hand on the back of your head tightened, fingers tangling in your hair, and a whimper escaped your throat before you could stifle it. You didn’t have time to be embarrassed, though, because the sound had Takami groaning low and deep into your mouth.

His hand released your wrist and snaked down to your waist, wrapping around you to settle on your lower back. In one swift movement, with a flap of his wings, he swapped your positions, sitting on the floor with you straddling his lap. You gasped at the change in position, and he broke the kiss, worried that he’d gone too far.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, half-lidded eyes glancing up to gauge your reaction.

“Why didn’t you?” you challenged, your free hand twirling golden strands between your fingers.

“Worried about our friendship,” he replied, gently nipping at your jaw. Your eyes fluttered closed and your head tilted, silently granting him permission to continue.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you gasped as his tongue swiped over your pulse. “All those girls you went out with; I’m nothing like them.”

“That’s why I went out with them,” he explained, his grasp tightening around your waist. “I thought I could distract myself from how badly I wanted you by dating someone totally different. But it didn’t work. All I saw was what they lacked - you. Your laugh, your caffeine addiction, your scent.”

“My scent?” you inquired, stifling a giggle.

His nose pressed into your neck and he inhaled deeply. “You smell incredible. Intoxicating.”

You tugged at his hair, gaining his attention. Without a word, you dipped your head and reclaimed his lips, an action that had him groaning again.

“I’ve had a crush on you forever, Takami,” you confessed between kisses, your other hand sliding up to caress his stubbled jaw. He leaned into the touch, his hand tightening in your hair.

“Keigo,” he gasped. “Call me Keigo.”

“Keigo,” you repeated, and he moaned deliciously.

“We’re both stupid,” he chuckled against your lips.

“Were stupid,” you corrected. “This - this isn’t stupid.”

This time you both leaned in for a kiss, lips and teeth catching each other. The end credits of the movie rolled on, as abandoned as the half-eaten snacks on the coffee table. All you cared about was Keigo.

Chapter Text

The chipper whistle of recorders and flutes permeated the air, mingling with the soft strumming of lutes and orchestrating a soundtrack that transformed the quaint town of Stars Hollow into an authentic renaissance locale. Living in town since birth and frequenting Luke’s Diner nearly every day had crossed your path with Liz’s, and subsequently granted you an invitation to her festive wedding. Despite not knowing any of her friends, excitement buzzed throughout your body as the day approached. You knew Luke and, to a lesser extent, Jess, having seen the latter around town during the couple of periods he spent living in Stars Hollow. You’d been attracted to him immediately - his perfectly tousled raven hair, his cocky smirk laced with hidden affection, the way he hid his vast intelligence behind sarcasm and snark as though he worried that exposing his true colors would leave him open to getting hurt.

Your hands smoothed the olive skirt of your peasant dress, the muslin pleating slightly as it fanned around your legs. A black cotton bodice wrapped around your torso, tightened with green laces. Your beige sleeves were off shoulder and ruffled, elastic helping them cling to your wrists, and simple black heels covered your feet. Your long hair had been brushed and curled, left down to drape over your shoulder and fall elegantly down your back.

You found an empty seat near the back of the crowd, your leg bouncing softly as you lost yourself in the uplifting music and scent of turkey legs being roasted. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Luke sitting beside Lorelai, and a soft smile played on your lips. Everyone in town knew they were meant to be together, and it was nice to know they might finally be figuring it out for themselves.

A carriage approaching signaled the bride’s arrival, and everyone turned towards the street to watch Liz emerge from the carriage and take Jess’s arm. Jess’s expression was softer than you’d ever seen, softer than anyone would guess he was capable of. The closest he’d come to displaying such a level of affection was when he’d dated Rory, but there was so much judgment and distrust from the town that he often had to school his features even with Rory on his arm.

Your own smile widened at the fact that he had shown up for his mother’s wedding, that he had agreed to walk her down the aisle. Despite not being particularly close, you knew that Jess struggled with intimate relationships, including his mother. Especially his mother.

Though he wasn’t dressed in period clothing, Jess was still cleaned up in a creamy button-up shirt and black slacks. Your eyes raked over his figure, taking in how his features had matured over just a couple of years. As he passed by your seat, you tore your gaze away, staring awkwardly forward where TJ was waiting beside the officiant. The last thing you needed was to get caught staring at the boy you didn’t want to admit you had a crush on. You focused instead on the scenery - fresh flowers tied with tulle ribbons adorning every surface, the town square cast in the brightest warmth from the afternoon sun, attendees dressed (save for a few exceptions) in muslin tunics, cotton pants, linen dresses, and boned corsets.

Liz and TJ exchanged vows that were perfectly in character, and your gaze drifted towards Jess sitting in the front row, watching his mom plunge a sword into the ground. His head turned as though he could feel your watchful eyes, and his own amber orbs glanced your way. You didn’t shy away this time, instead catching his eyes and gauging his reaction. His lips quirked into a soft smirk, and you irrationally wondered if he knew that he was the person you were most excited to see at the wedding.

Hours later, the reception was well underway. The sun had set, though no one had noticed. A variety of lanterns placed upon tables or hung from tree branches bathed the town in a soft glow, adding to the romantic ambiance of the renaissance party. Plenty of food and alcohol had been consumed by the time you meandered through the crowd, listening as Liz’s friends drunkenly spouted their favorite stories about the couple.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” a familiar voice sounded from behind you, and you slowly turned to find Jess standing just a foot away. His hands were clasped nonchalantly behind his back, his lips tugged into his signature smirk, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, offering him a friendly smile that you hoped wouldn’t betray how nervous you were to be standing so close to him.

“Care to go for a walk?” he inquired, unclasping his hands and letting them hang loosely at his sides. His tone was casual, noncommittal, but inside he was hoping, almost desperately, that you would agree. He’d always noticed you in town, both when he’d lived with Luke and during the couple of visits he’d made since then. Your shiny hair that he longed to run his fingers through to test its softness, the way you’d devour your food at the diner without a care in the world at what anyone else had to say, the way your eyes sparkled when you returned just as much snark as Jess gave - everything about you had drawn him in, though he’d never admit it aloud. He struggled enough just admitting it inside his own head.

Your heart fluttered with excitement at the invitation and your smile widened. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He extended one arm to you, silently nodding towards your own arm. You followed his gaze as understanding clicked in your brain, and you gasped a soft “Oh!” before linking your arm with his. Standing close enough to Jess that you could smell his cologne and hear his breathing had your heart hammering so heavily against your ribs that you briefly wondered if he could hear it.

“Lead the way,” you told him quietly, and he offered you a smile and a nod before his feet carried him across the grass. You kept with his pace, occasionally turning to look up at him as you strolled slowly through the town square.

Past the party-goers and drunken relatives, away from the nearly empty food tables and brightly twinkling lanterns, Jess led you to the gazebo. He gestured for you to ascend the steps first and you complied, watching as he followed suit. Reaching the top step, he lowered himself to a seated position and gently tugged at your arm until you dropped down beside him.

The arm that had previously been linked with yours wrapped around your back, tugging your body close to his own. You could feel his body heat, separated from yours only by a few thin layers of fabric. His head dipped, his face only inches away, so close that it sucked the breath from your lungs and erased all thoughts from your mind.

“Have I told you that you look really nice in that dress?” he murmured softly, his breath ghosting over your lips from the proximity.

You tried to stifle the shiver crawling up your spine from both the compliment and the desperate desire to kiss him tightening inside your chest.

“No, you haven’t,” you managed steadily, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

He paused, hooded amber eyes gazing into yours, allowing you to see a dozen emotions swirling deep within his apathetic expression. Your breath was shaky as you studied him, feeling warm in his embrace but chilled from your nerves, butterflies dancing vigorously within your abdomen.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, nearly inaudible, pressing impossibly closer. His nose bumped yours and your foreheads pressed together, like an invisible veil was the only thing keeping you separated.

You didn’t trust your voice, instead managing a nod that was almost certainly too eager for how badly you were trying to remain nonchalant.

His free hand lifted to rest on your jaw, cradling the side of your face. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, and you allowed yourself a sharp exhale. His thumb caressed your jawbone as he closed the distance between you, slotting his lips perfectly over yours. You stifled a whimper as you returned the kiss, lips melding against his, breaths mingling together as he pulled back for the briefest second before surging back in. Your free hand took hold of his shirt, fingers fisting in his button-up, melting into the kiss.

When he finally pulled back for air, panting against your mouth, his hand still cupping your cheek, you struggled to catch your breath. His forehead pressed against yours as his eyes opened, his soft gaze absorbing your reaction. A grin stretched his lips as he took in your flushed cheeks, panting breath, and half-lidded eyes shyly looking up at him.

“Been wanting to do that,” Jess admitted, keeping his face close. His arm around your back tightened, tugging you closer, his hand finding purchase on your hip.

“Why didn’t you?” you inquired softly, keeping your eyes on his face even though his presence brought heat to your cheeks and a flutter to your abdomen.

He exhaled a soft chuckle, the sound more nervous than humorous. His head tilted slightly, his eyes drifting to the side as though he was self-conscious about whatever he wanted to say. You waited patiently, quietly, for him to be ready.

“I just had some stuff to figure out first,” he said finally with a half-hearted shrug. His eyes found yours again, his expression almost quizzical as he studied yours. The insecure part of him that he kept buried deep, away from prying eyes, worried that you wouldn’t accept that response. But you simply smiled, offering him a soft nod, leaning into the hand that still rested on your cheek.

Such a simple gesture, but it triggered something inside Jess. He used his hand on your cheek to pull you closer, capturing your lips in a fervent kiss. A hum sounded in the back of your throat as you returned it, lips moving perfectly against his, your hand tightening in the cloth of his shirt.

He broke the kiss, a genuine, affectionate smile on his lips. His arm lifted slightly, draping across your shoulders and pulling you nearly onto his lap. Your head rested on his chest as you sat on the steps of the gazebo, entangled together, watching as twinkling stars littered the night sky.