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captainremmington-13 · 7 months

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A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: The 10th Annual Hunger Games begin, and things quickly dissolve into chaos. Bellova grows increasingly furious about Coriolanus’s dedication towards Lucy Gray Baird. When she realizes he has cheated just to keep her alive, she decides to ruin him once and for all.

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, death, violence, cursing, overall dark stuff (it’s the Hunger Games franchise so that’s sorta a given)

A/n: I am using a combination of the movie and book version of the events that occur in this chapter. I sort of streamlined the events to make the chapter less boring. Also, I highly recommend listening to “…Ready For It?” and “Look What You Made Me Do” while reading this chapter.

Other than Sejanus throwing a chair at the screen and screaming that everyone in the room was a monster, Lamina killing Marcus in an act of of mercy, and Lucky’s stupid commentary, nothing much had happened yet.

Bellova was disappointed that her tribute was dead. Not because she cared about her, but because it meant she was missing out on the mentor experience. The thrill of having a say in someone else’s survival seemed quite exciting.

If she wasn’t so pissed at Coriolanus for his behavior towards Lucy Gray, she would’ve reconsidered his proposal to work together.

When the day was coming to an end, the majority of Academy students started to leave for their homes. Only a handful remained, consisting mostly of the mentors.

Bellova stifled a yawn, leaning back in her chair. Things has gotten dull, with the tributes doing nothing but finding places to hide from each other. She hoped that Dr. Gaul had something exciting in store for them soon, or people would start switching to Billi Bumble’s horrible comedy channel.

She picked up her Academy satchel and stood up from her seat. She noticed that Coriolanus was still present and slumped over on his desk, his head resting on his hand. He looked so peaceful asleep, his long golden lashes fluttering slightly. The light from the ceiling made his light blonde curls glow ethereally.

He looked like an angel.

Bellova suddenly felt a strong urge to wake him up. She had avoided him for the entire day out of spite, but was starting to miss interacting to him. It was routine, bantering and bickering every day. Not talking felt…weird. And lonely.

She sighed. On rare occasions, she wished she could go back in time and change the way they formed their relationship. Instead of it being based on competition and rivalry, it would be full of support and affection.

Then, an unpleasant thought hit her.

He had only stayed so late to ensure nothing happened to Lucy Gray while he was away.

Now utterly furious, she slung her bag over her shoulder and started towards the door. ‘He’s such a pathetic sap,’ she thought. ‘He’s acting like a fool, I really should stop associating myself with him.’

But she found herself glancing over her shoulder to look at him one last time. And she knew, deep down, that she’s always come back, no matter how much he pissed her off.

She’d never be able to stay away from him.

Not for long, anyway.

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

Bellova passed out as soon as she climbed into bed, and didn’t wake until nine hours later. She hadn’t slept well in nearly a week, as she was still recovering from her injuries. This was the first time she was able to achieve an uninterrupted night of sleep since before the bombing.

When one of her maids woke her up, it was already 8:00. Usually Academy classes started promptly at 8:00, but because of the Games, the schedule had been loosened a bit. And Bellova, who didn’t feel like interacting with anyone, was in no rush to arrive on time.

After eating a breakfast of fruit and assorted pastries, she slowly pulled on her uniform. She has always hated the Academy uniforms, but with the right accessories and makeup, she had learned to make it presentable by her standards.

Bellova checked her makeup one last time in the mirror and then headed downstairs to meet her driver at the front of her estate. He opened the passenger’s side door for her as she slid into the seat.

“How are you this morning, Miss Bellova?” he asked, starting the engine and taking off towards the main road.

“Fine,” she said, leaning against the window. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope that once the Games are over, you can rest up properly.”

She nodded. “That would be nice. As much as I like the Games, they’ve caused quite a lot of stress this year.”

He laughed quietly. “Most certainly. Everyone was so worried about you when you were hospitalized, your father most of all. I haven’t ever seen him so upset in my twenty years of working for him.”

Bellova sighed. She and her father, Julio Augustus Reginelle, had a nice relationship. But he was rarely home, for he worked almost ten hours a day and often didn’t come home until Bellova was asleep. She cherished the rare moments she had with him. He had taught her to be proud of her wit and her combative nature, even if it sometimes got her into trouble.

“You are much more like your father than you realize, Miss Bellova,” her driver said.

“How so?” she asked.

“You are both kind until someone disrespects you. You are incredibly intelligent just like him, and pursue your goals relentlessly.” He paused for a moment. “And, you seem to have the same disdain for certain other Capitol families.”

Bellova raised an eyebrow. “Which ones?”

“Well, he’s not fond of the Cardews, as you know. He thinks they hold too much power for how little work they actually do.”

Bellova laughed. “That’s true.”

“He has never gotten along with the Creed family. He finds them irritating and foolish.”

She smirked. “I’m not surprised. Festus can be insufferable. Who else?”

Her driver sighed. “He despised Crassus Snow.”

Bellova felt her stomach twist. “Really?”

He nodded. “I don’t know exactly why he hated him so passionately, but I’ve heard they were rivals during their Academy days.”

‘I suppose I really do take after him then,’ Bellova thought, remembering her and Coriolanus’s worst arguments. ‘Crassus’s son gets under my skin nearly every day.’

Her driver pulled onto Scholars Road and stopped in front of the Academy’s main building. He stepped out of the car to open the door for her, and she gave him a nod of thanks.

“I’ll see you later, Miss Bellova,” he said, bowing slightly and getting back into the car to drive off.

As Bellova walked to the auditorium where the mentors were undoubtedly already at work, she pondered what her driver had said about Crassus Snow and her father. She was eager to know more about their history, but didn’t want to pry too far. Her father had a temper just like her, and she didn’t want to be on the wrong end of it.

When Bellova reached the room and walked through the doors, she immediately noticed three things: one, that Coriolanus looked exhausted and distressed, two, that he has brought his cousin Tigris to watch the Games, and three, that Sejanus was missing.

She grabbed a spare chair and sat next to Coriolanus. He didn’t greet her or even glance look at her.

“What’s wrong with you today?” she asked, looking at the large television screen in front of them.

He scowled. “I’m not in the mood for your snide remarks, Bellova.”

“Clearly something happened. Either tell me or I’ll figure it out on my own.”

Coriolanus gave her a sharp glare, but sighed in defeat. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Satisfied, Bellova turned her attention back to the Games. According to Lucky Flickerman, one tribute, Bobbin, had died overnight. However, there was no footage shown of him perishing.

Bellova found that awfully suspicious. There was such a lack of action in the arena that the gamemakers would have undoubtedly shown the death of a tribute.

When Bobbin’s death was announced, she noticed Coriolanus tense ever-so slightly. The average person wouldn’t have noticed, but she had learned to read his body language as well as the back of her hand. Clearly, something about his death made him nervous.

She decided to cast it aside for the moment. She’d pry the information out of him later.

“They aren’t showing us what happened to that little boy,” Lysistrata Vickers said. “He clearly was killed right there. There’s cameras everywhere. It doesn’t make sense.”

“They said they were old cameras, Lyssie,” Festus responded. “Probably just another one of Coral’s.”

“Festus, sit down,” Lucky Flickerman ordered. “Same seats.”

Festus scowled but did as he was told. He and Lucky clearly had some animosity, and it was quite amusing to witness their petty interactions.

Suddenly, after a few moments, Lucy Gray appears on screen, looking horrified. Bellova had to bite her lip to refrain from grinning. It seemed that the songbird’s luck was finally running out.

Jessup emerged a second later. He was clearly not well, he looked much worse than he did before the Games.

“What’d you do to me?” Jessup shrieked, backed Lucy Gray against a pile of rubble.

“Nothing!” she responded, her eyes wide with fear.

“Lyssie, what is he doing?” Bellova heard Coriolanus asked frantically.

“Something’s wrong,” Lysistrata replied, bewildered. “He wouldn’t turn on her like this.”

“Jessup going after Lucy Gray,” Lucky commented.

“Stop running!” Jessup demanded. “What did you…” He groaned mid-sentence. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Lucy Gray insisted.

“Both tributes from District 12. The same district folding in on itself.”

“Wait, look. The foam,” Coriolanus said.

“I think it’s rabies,” Lysistrata said, clearly disturbed. “That bite. From that train.”

Coriolanus stared at the screen, looking helplessly at his tribute who was nearing her inevitable doom. Then, he turned back to Jessup’s mentor.

“Send him water.”

“Wait, what?” Lysistrata asked.

“You remember the posters in the war? Rabies. It makes you afraid of water. Send him a drone.”

“That’ll scare him,” she protested.

“Yes. Away from her,” he insisted.

Bellova stood up. “Coriolanus-“

“Bellova, be quiet,” he snapped, not even bothering to look at her. “Jessup is done. Lyssie, you’re the only one that can get it right to him.”

Lysistrata clearly didn’t want to, but with a few clicks on her computer, water was being sent to Jessup by a drone.

“Thank you,” Coriolanus whispered.

Within minutes, Jessup was dead, and four lethal tributes were cornering Lucy Gray.

“Oh, look at this,” Lucky Flickerman said. “The Pack doing what they do best. Packing it in. Lucy Gray is swarmed, cornered. Mizzen, propellering his net.”

It looked again as if she was done for, but then-

“Mr. Snow going for his communipad,” Lucky continued. Bellova saw him send nine - no, ten drones towards Lucy Gray.

Bellova knew exactly what he was doing. He was using the drones to give her a chance to escape.

The drones came flying into the arena, causing The Pack to scatter. A few of them got hit, causing them cry out in pain and tumble to the stone-covered floor.

“These drones are not very good,” Lucky commented, as if it weren’t obvious. Some of the students who had caught onto Coriolanus’s plan started to jeer at him.

“Hey!” Vipsania Sickle said indignantly. “You can’t attack the tributes.”

“I’m just sending water,” Coriolanus said casually, as if he was completely innocent.

After gathering her bearings, Lucy Gray scrambled into a tunnel with Coral on her heels. She managed to pull the vent closed just in time, the metal door nearly crushing Coral’s fingers.

Bellova positioned herself a few inches away from Coriolanus. She was seething, but it didn’t show on her face. She simply looked indifferent, despite all of the violence that had just occurred in the Games.

“Snow, do you that time before the Dark Days when you pulled on my pigtails, so I slammed your face against my school desk?”

“Yes,” Coriolanus said, furrowing his eyebrows. “What about it?”

Bellova smiled crookedly, the violent glint in her eyes making Coriolanus visibly uncomfortable. “I’m about to fucking do it again, and this time, you’ll have more than a bleeding nose.”

He straightened his posture, smoothing out his Academy blazer.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Bellova’s hands twitched. She knew that decking him in front of the majority of the student board would get her in severe trouble, but it was very tempting.

Instead of punching him, she started to storm out of the auditorium.

“There goes Miss Reginelle. Clearly, the violence on screen has finally gotten to her-“

“Shut the fuck up, Flickerman, before I snap your microphone in half!” Bellova hissed. She threw up open the doors, and made sure to slam them behind her.

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

Bellova sat in the hallway outside of the auditorium, leaning her head against the wall behind her. Her anger was threatening to spill over, and her father would be very disappointed in her if she murdered someone on Academy grounds.

She had vowed to make Coriolanus pay if he pulled any more strings for his little songbird. And he had by sending that fleet of drones after her attackers. But clearly, nobody batted an eye at that. He had not been punished, or even reprimanded.

The thought of Coriolanus thinking longingly about Lucy Gray was almost enough to drive her mad.

Before she could do anything drastic, she heard the speakers inside the auditorium amplifying Dr. Gaul’s voice. Curious, she stood up and pressed her ear to the doors.

“Capitol citizens, I’m afraid I must interrupt our Games to announce a tragic loss, one that affects us all. Felix Ravinstill, son of our beloved president, has, this morning, succumbed to his injuries sustained in the rebel bombing.”

Bellova felt her heart drop. Felix wasn’t all that bad, when he wasn’t bragging about his life at least. She had even gone to the end-of-year Academy gala with him a couple of years ago. They had a wonderful time, and she was gifted a priceless gold necklace by him at the end of the night. She had worn it for a week straight afterwards, which delighted the young son of the president.

“Out there in the districts, they will be celebrating this young boy’s death as a triumph. I will not allow my Games to give our enemy such a victory. I swear to you, here and now, before the sun goes down tonight, a rainbow of destruction will engulf our arena. Even if it means there’s to be no victor in these Games.”

She gasped. She knew Dr. Gaul well enough to know she was completely serious. If she wanted someone gone, she’d stop at nothing until they dropped dead.

Mere moments later, Coriolanus burst through the doors, nearly slamming right into Bellova.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, scowling at him.

He sneered down at her, beginning to walk away. She followed him, despite knowing he really didn’t want her to. “As if I’d tell you.”

Bellova sighed. “I told you earlier, Coriolanus, if you don’t tell me, I’ll figure it out on my own-“

“Fine!” he huffed. “I’d do anything to shut you up at this point. You’re insufferable.”

“The feeling is mutual, Snow. Now spill it, what’s going on?”

Coriolanus, against his better judgement, told her everything. Well, almost everything. He told her about how he retrieved Sejanus from the arena, but omitted the part about killing Bobbin. He explained that he needed to see Dr. Gaul immediately, for the stitches in his back from the previous evening were coming loose.

Bellova frowned. She briefly felt bad that he was in pain, but couldn’t bring herself to actually care. She was still angry at him.

She also noticed he said was being very vague with his details. He was definitely hiding something.

“What’s that face for?” Coriolanus asked as they approached the Citadel, which housed Gaul’s laboratory.

“What face?”

“That scowl. You’re clearly not pleased about something, so what is it?”

She smirked. “As if I’d tell you,” she said, mimicking his words from earlier.

Coriolanus’s jaw clenched, which satisfied Bellova immensely. She loved seeing his patience waver, it was strangely addicting.

“Will you ever learn to keep your bratty mouth shut?” he asked, his voice raising a touch.

“Bratty?” Bellova scoffed. “I’d prefer it if you called me a bitch.”

Dr. Gaul’s lab was just a few corridors away at this point. Bellova knew that causing a scene here wouldn’t be wise, but she honestly did not care. She could easily talk her way out if it.

Coriolanus glowered at her, his blue eyes icier than ever. “Go back to the auditorium, Bellova. I know you love watching the Games, and you’re probably missing all of the action.”

She laughed. “So all of a sudden, you want me to be happy. Seriously, Snow, if you want to get rid of me, just say so.”

He smirked at her condescendingly. “Then I will. Get out of here, you have no place in Gaul’s lab anyway. It’s too much for your pathetically shallow brain to comprehend.”

Bellova stared at him for a moment. It has been awhile since he’d said something quite that harsh. It was normal for him to question her intellect, but calling her dumb? That was low, even for him.

Coriolanus was obviously anticipating a slap to the face. He was not prepared, however, for Bellova to swipe her claw-like nails across his face like a wild animal.

Stunned, he watched Bellova walk away as the new gashes on his face began to sting. As she reached the end of the hall, she screamed “You’re such an asshole!” before disappearing from Coriolanus’s sight.

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

Bellova sat in the stands instead of with the mentors, watching as Dr. Gaul’s “rainbow of destruction” engulf the remaining tributes in the arena.

She had no idea that when Dr. Gaul said “rainbow”, she was referring to hundreds of colorful, deadly snakes.

She watched, entranced, as the beautiful mutations smothered the tributes, picking them off one-by-one. She had never admired the “mad” scientist more. Her work was truly beautiful.

Wovey, Reaper, Mizzen, and Coral were soon dead, lying lifelessly beneath the swarm of snakes.

“Now, all colors lead to Gray,” Lucky Flickerman said.

Coriolanus stood watching the screen, amazed at his own success. “She’s… She’s won. It’s over, she’s won.” He looked over to Dr. Gaul, who was standing to the side. “She’s won, let her out.”

The doctor smiled. “Afraid that’s not your call to make, Mr. Snow.”

Bellova bit back a laugh when Lucy Gray began to sing. At least she’d be able to get in once last performance before her vocal chords went slack.

“Dr. Gaul, she won!” Coriolanus repeated, desperation seeping into his voice. “It’s over, let her out.”

“Why aren’t they attacking her?” someone asked.

“Must be the singing,” Coriolanus replied. “It’s calming them.”

He really was a terrible liar.

“She can’t sing forever,” Festus said.

Bellova noticed some of the students around her begin to cry as they watched Lucy Gray sing shakily. ‘Pathetic,’ she thought.

“Dr. Gaul, please,” Coriolanus begged. “Get her out. Get her out!”

One by one, the Academy students began to chant “Get her out! Get her out!”, almost overpowering the sound of Lucy Gray’s singing.

‘No,’ Bellova thought desperately. ‘Don’t. Just let her die.’

Then, Coriolanus said, “Who will watch the Games if there’s no victor?”

The chanting came to a halt.

Dr. Gaul looked around, seeing that she was vastly outnumbered. “Get her out,” she murmured just loud enough to be heard.

“She’s won! Lucy Gray!” Lucky Flickerman cried over the roar of the student body. “Coriolanus Snow is the winner of the 10th Annual Hunger Games!”

Bellova’s face burned with fury, her patience finally snapping after days of wearing thin.

She was no longer willing to overlook Coriolanus’s behavior. She had let him get away with too much.

It was time that he faced some real consequences.

As she exited the hall quietly, she smiled, a cruel, twisted smile. She knew exactly how she would make him pay.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments! This was another decently long chapter, and I believe it has been the most intense one yet. Stay tuned for Chapter Six!

Also, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x oc #original character #thg prequel #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #dr gaul #lucy gray baird

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factual-fantasy · 1 year

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I has 21 asks! :DDD🌟🌟

@minophlia

@ocinstituterep

I'm not sure if they would line their coats with the Captains fur,, <XD I'm not sure my Barnacles would even shed! My Barnacles has his fur cut really short to accommodate for the warm climate. Which is why he has to wear a coat like the rest of the crew when he goes to the Arctic!

@elegysonnet

Awe, thank you! And I'd sayyy.. its probably cookies and cream. If that counts?? XD If thats not what you meant than milk chocolate-

@cudlycorncornsworthcoberson

XDD I love all the theories! Your enthusiasm means the world! And don't worry, you wont be in the dark for long.. 👀👀

@artist-of-obsessions

aaa thank you so much!! That means the world!! :DD

That's a really interesting detail actually, I'll have to take note!

@toaster-os

I have not actually, it looks really cute though! :DD

@boxofcreampuffs

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😭

Thank you so much!! :DD

Yes, please do take it down. That would be greatly appreciated 🙏

@thatwolfnamednyla

XD I forgot about that game, too funny!

@tmelvinborg31

I'm excited but also preparing to be greatly disappointed...

I kind'a saw it comin. I think everyone did-

I'm not disappointed, I think its a cool and mysterious plot line to have :00 Also I didn't notice the Monty carpet! Very interesting,,

Also this doesn't change my Monty at all obviously. <XD I made him a good guy out of pure spite and I'm KEEPING him that way!

Unfortunately Vanessa is not part of the Fazfam <XD

As for her importance, I cant specify too much.. but I will say that she does indeed play a big part in the over all story of my au. 👀👀

@spookylightblizzard

Yeah I did, it made me kind'a sad :( But honestly good for him. The man deserves a good retirement for voicing a lot of our childhoods ✨🌟✨

@excalibent

Thank you <:) I'm doing my best!

@graycoin

I was thinking it'd be less visual differences and more internal. Although I haven't fully decided what the differences will be-

Some ideas I had was maybe Peach and the others are Herbivores? What if they can only eat fruits and veggies and Mario sees a slab of cooked meat and he's just like "OO STEAK" and chomps into it and everyone just looks at him like

ALSO! Maybe Peach has to sleep a lot more than Mario does. OR maybe a lot less? Imagine if peach only needed 4 hours of sleep and then she was wide awake. Or maybe the opposite? Imagine if 12 hours is a standard amount of sleep they need. Mario is running around at 7 AM on 8 hours of sleep and Peach is like "whyyyy are you uppp so earlyyy go back to sleeeppp"

Or SHES up at 4 AM like "Mario are you up? Hey Mario are you awake? Do you want breakfast? I made you breakfast. Its cake I hope that's okay-"

I also imagined temperatures! I mostly imagined that Peach cannot handle the heat what so ever. Mario's out there in 35°C (95°F) heat and Peach is tucked away in her dungeon like a vampire. Or the OPPOSITE?? Its 40°C (104°F) and she's out there gardening and Mario is cooped up inside just miserable <XD

ANyways, I think you get the point. Differences like is what I had in mind. 😅😅

Cassie's not in it because I just kind'a dont like her entire existence XDD But maybe she could be a friend of Gregory's down the road when he grows up yeah.

Also I love/hate the DLC. I think its really pretty, I LOVE how it leaned more towards a horror theme this time..

Buuuuuut all the complicated lore stuff put me off. Cassie, the Mimic, the big purple glitchy bunny thing. Uhhhgg.. I love this franchise but I wanna punch it really hard sometimes. <XD

@skywillow28022

All of the bots got a system reboot after Gregory's first night there, as a safety precaution. Moony included. As to how the reboot effected him specifically and if he's still infected? Well I guess we'll just have to wait and see.. 👀

#my response #fnaf security breach #fnaf security breach dlc #fnaf security breach dlc spoilers #I haaaate this new post system #it removed my neat little hack to have as many images as I want and answer 30+ asks at a time #now I'm actually limited #not cool tumblr #not cool man :(

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raineandsky · 10 months

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The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw death mention

The courtesy the villain has decided to show the hero has been incredibly weird. A relief, of course, but weird.

They avoid the hero most days now. The time they used to spend watching the hero break their back for them is now spent as far away from the hero as humanly possible. The hero kind of understands, though—since their damning little slip up in the bedroom last week, the villain’s demanded they stop doing the chores until their arm is better. There isn’t much to watch anymore.

And when the villain disappears out the front door for the night, it’s always with the same instruction now: “get a decent night’s sleep, don’t lie on your arm, and for the love of god don’t make it worse.”

No chores to be done in their absence. No rules. Just… rest. Get better. It’s a breath of fresh air.

Anyway, the lack of random work to do gives them more time to snoop. Okay, so it’s not no rules, but one very easily breakable rule. A rule they couldn’t care less about breaking—snapping clean in half, if they can. The agency taught them how to pry and leave no trace. This is the easiest, most rewarding part of their stay here. It's more of a routine than anything now, trekking through their notes.

The villain’s office is a mess, to put it lightly. It makes it just that little bit harder to restore when they’re done, but it doesn’t matter too much—they get information. A list of missing villains, heroes on hit lists, plans. Plans to infiltrate and extort and seduce and kill. God, everything the agency’s ever wanted is in here. The hero commits it all to memory, and by the time the villain gets home they’re already asleep on the sofa downstairs.

The villain always comes back in the early hours of the morning, and today is no different. The only difference is that the front door batters against the opposite wall and the villain staggers rather loudly into the kitchen.

The hero is up in an instant, sleep torn from them abruptly. They trail after the villain, glancing instinctively to the floor for blood, but the tile is clean. The villain sinks into a kitchen chair like it’s the last thing they’re ever going to do.

“[Villain]...?” the hero says into the silence. The villain barely responds, their gaze burning into the table as they lean their face against their palms, their elbows propped up on the table.

“We’re dying,” the villain says flatly. “We’re dropping like flies, and [Supervillain] is still trying to send us all to our deaths to save herself.”

It’s not hard to feign surprise; this wasn’t mentioned in any of the paperwork the hero’s seen. They pull a chair out and settle opposite them. “What do you mean?”

“What do I—” The villain’s tone is scathing for a moment, but they bite back the end of their sentence with a sigh. “Heroes are killing us. I’ve found more than one person face-down in some back alley. People I know—allies. Friends.”

The hero’s throat closes up for a long, long moment. “I– I’m sorry,” they say testily, but they come out as more of a choke. The villain doesn’t seem to hear them anyway.

“Every so often [Supervillain] sends a new batch of villains into the thick of it, to try and take down some of the heroes wiping us out. Those who do survive are few and far between, usually screwed up beyond repair. And [Supervillain]— she’s—”

The villain sucks in a shuddery breath. The hero waits patiently.

“[Supervillain]’s chosen her next round of sacrifices,” the villain says with a breath of a humourless laugh, and a knot twists in the hero’s stomach. The villain fixes them with an empty stare, and the hero shoves down the urge to glance away. “I’m one of them. I’m— I’m being sent to die.”

Perfect, some part of the hero’s mind murmurs. A safe haven, all to yourself.

But despite everything, the villain’s been kind to them. Even though they humiliated them and forced their hand, the hero’s not in the claws of the superhero yet because of them. And they’re going to die. The villain’s going to leave one day, and they won’t come back. The hero’s brain almost can’t wrap around it.

“She— I’ll be setting off… for good next Thursday.” The villain’s face morphs into hopelessness.

It’s Tuesday now. Nine days.

The villain clears their throat, though it doesn’t seem to dislodge the anxious rasp residing there. “I, uh— I’m sorry,” they say unexpectedly. “For being a villain, for making you dance for my entertainment to stay alive, for— god, for everything. I’m sorry, [Hero].”

The hero can only blink at them for a moment. Sorry? “That’s, uh… it’s okay,” the hero says dumbly after a moment.

“No, it’s not. The least I can do is fix what I can before I… y’know.” The villain’s eyes lock onto the hero’s so intensely that they can’t find it in themself to look away this time. “I’m so sorry.”

You saved my life. You let me stay here. You let me hide from your enemy. You let me hide from mine. You ignored the benefits of turning me out for what? Companionship? Necessity? Something else entirely?

The hero can’t say that to their nemesis. The villain already sounds insane saying all this. They don’t need to feed into the absurdity of the evening. So they simply force a smile, of sorts, onto their face, and say, “I forgive you.”

(next part)

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #the villains housekeeper #tw death mention #can. can you guess when the next part is gonna be >:)#if you wanna skip for the triggers but still wanna follow along lemme knowww #i can give you a rundown of parts sans trigger if you wanna keep up with the series :) dont want anyone missin out!!

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dollsonmain · 23 days

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I've forgotten how to sleep and startled myself when I looked in the mirror on my way to bed last night. The eye wells in my skull were very, very visible. Slightly less bad this morning.

So sleep hasn't happened due to both anxiety/stress and the AC having been broken for a while. AC was out for about a week and once it was fixed, I was too stressed about the absences thing at school to sleep the first night, and then too stressed last night because Son broke his school laptop yesterday and we have to tell That Guy today, AND That Guy had gone out partying with friends after work which means he drives home like that in the middle of the night and I always worry he's not going to make it. I can't sleep until I hear the garage door open. If he crashes, with the way he has our finances set up, Son and I are effectively homeless immediately. Part of why I am trying to work. Him not coming home until 1am also prolonged the anticipatory anxiety of having to wait to tell him the problem and get over the aftermath.

And then I woke up at 3am like always and couldn't get back to sleep.

Anyway.

Work stuff ish again

I will not complain about being expected to work 6 hours a day because that's less than a "normal" job anyway, but really at that point I'd rather work a full 8 and get benefits.

I very much think it should be illegal to schedule people juuuuuust under the cut off for benefits to be required by labor law. You should have to either schedule people 40 hours or 20 hours, no in between, IMO. Scheduling someone exactly 20 hours gives them plenty of time to go work SOMEWHERE ELSE for the other 20 hours without having to worry about being scheduled to work 60+ hours a week because both employers are cheapskates that will work you 30 hours.

I also need to completely change my daily routines AGAIN to get to work on time.

My current-new routine is:

wake up at 3:30 and get my morning coffee

sit around and wait for That Guy to leave for work which is usually 4-4:30

Son gets up and we have the morning together

Son leaves for school at 6:50

I don't get hungry until somewhere between 7 and 9 and will have breakfast then

depending on how exhausted I am I will or will not do chores between 5 and 10

leave to walk to work at 10:20

get to work at 10:40/10:45

work 11-3

That Guy picks me up on his way home from work, though I did have to walk home yesterday

do chores

dinner between 4-5 or so

vegetable time

Now, I'm going to have to skip my morning coffee because it makes me poop and I don't want to be pooping while I'm also the only cashier at work.

So it's going to be like....

wake up around 3 and shower OR shower in the evenings and deal with being gross from night-sweats at work so wake up at 3:30, I do prefer to show up to work nice and clean but it is a gas station...

force feed myself some sort of solid food while waiting for That Guy to leave for work around 4-4:30

make sure the boy gets up no later than 5

leave to walk to work at 5:20

get to work at 5:40-5:45

work 6-whenever (she hasn't decided when????)

leave work to walk to home whenever that happens to be and I'd rather it WASN'T noon because it's going to be stupid hot, then, but stop on the store's "porch" to put on sunscreen real fast... which means I need an opaque travel size bottle for sunscreen, and eat something so I don't pass out on the way home (yesterday I took a small bread roll and some jerky and ate that and drank a second V8 Energy while walking)

get home around 1 if I left at noon because the walk home is slower than the walk to work

eat a real lunch? finally have my poopin coffee?

chores

Son and That Guy get home at 3

profit???

I'm going to have to prep and take multiple sugar drinks so my blood sugar doesn't bottom out while at work. Right now I've been taking one bottle of water with a Real Lemon lemonade drink stick mixed in and I forget to drink it but it's there so I can slam it before leaving. I'll need to also take a meal replacement shake got sugar, salt, and other nutrients, I think, and an extra water.

Manager keeps trying to get me to buy something at work before my shift starts and I'm like no thanks those are MY monies, now, you're not getting them back on your overpriced bottled water.

Today I need to do laundry, deal with the fallout of telling That Guy that Son broke his school laptop, go to Kohl's and see if I can find some New Balance cross trainers to wear to work since I will be doing walking, standing, and lifting and I think cross-trainers would be the best option AND already know NB is the brand they primarily carry, need to find a hi-vis vest or couple of belts because I'll be walking to work in the dark, and That Guy said he'd take me to dinner today for leaving me to have to walk home from work Yesterday but what does that matter? That's going to be every day from now on.

A few more paychecks and I'll look for a scooter again. Or something. Still kind of like the idea of getting a cargo trike, ngl. Would be harder to steal than a bike anyway.

I don't know what I'm going to do in the winter.

Running a salary and income tax calculator and factoring in about $3k in short-term hobby income, even putting that no tax is withheld, it looks like I'd expect a tax return of $3k? Because there's about $3k in tax credits??? Whatever. I'll figure it out when it's closer to the right time.

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simslegacy5083 · 1 month

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Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (8/18/2024) Episode: Family Reunion

Luigi’s gaming project had officially become Neomi’s day job, and her new flexible schedule let her visit her island friends easier than ever.

“Thanks again for offering to host Skye’s birthday party, Isra”, she said as they enjoyed the warm autumn sunshine on Breanne’s deck. “Are you sure its still no trouble with your sister coming for a visit? You’ve got to be busy preparing the space for Jade, and we could find another nearby venue.”

“I’m positive” Isra smiled “She’s actually going to stay with Par so I have less to prepare than I might. My old room became the guest bedroom, and we all agreed that would be more comfortable for Jade than sleeping on a pullout bed and sharing a room with a toddler!”

She pushed back her chair. “On that note however, I better get going. She’s supposed to be arriving in about an hour and I don’t want to be late!”

Isra wished her friends goodbye and headed out. She’d seen photos of her sister post transition, so she knew what to expect, but in a very real sense she’d soon be meeting a different sim than the one she’d met so long ago “Well, so long ago for me anyway” she chuckled “Jade’s still a teenager!”

She’d only been waiting a few minutes when a young sim with long, flaming red hair exited the teleporter station and engulfed her in an eager hug.

“Its so great to see you!” she finally said when she was released “You look lovely.” Jade blushed at the praise.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure what to wear, but then my sister Lulu took over and suddenly I didn’t have much say in the matter! I’ll tell her it was a hit.”

“So…” Isra continued “I figured we’d head to The Harbor first. Once you’ve had time to settle in Rhys is going to meet us at the park and we can introduce you to the kids. That sound good?” Her half-sister was clearly nervous to see her birth parent and niblings but nodded excitedly.

As they walked to the teleporter Jade pulled out her phone. “Do you think they’ll like this video of a llama who’s best friends with a cat?”

Jade’s palms were sweating as she and her sister exited the elevator at Wren’s apartment building. Isra, who had been keeping an eye on her sibling, gently squeezed her hand. She didn’t let go until they got to the door of Wren’s apartment, knocking and calling out “Par – we’re here!”

The door was flung open so quickly, Isra was sure her parent had been waiting just on the other side of it. For a moment she and Jade just stood there, staring at each other. Wren finally broke the silence “Both my girls, here together.” the tears in her eyes mirrored those in her firstborn’s. “Come in!”

Once they were all inside Jade broke the ice. “I love your hoodie.” Wren grinned, holding out her arms to model it.

“I saw it in a store window and just knew you’d appreciate the lemons!” The older sim then sighed with happy surprise as she found herself wrapped in a tight embrace.

“That’s the picture we took during Isra’s visit!” Jade exclaimed, staring at the large framed photo on the wall. “It is indeed” her par smiled “and while you’re here we’ll be sure to get some new ones for you to bring back home with you.”

“So, this is the room I grew up in,” Isra said as they entered the cozy space where Jade would be sleeping, before her par interrupted.

“There’s some apple juice and freeze-dried bananas on the nightstand in case you get hungry. The kind you liked when you were small since I don’t know what your favorite snacks are these days. The bed should be super comfy; I bought pure cotton sheets in case you were allergic to synthetics.”

Jade put a soothing hand on her par’s shoulder, arresting her monologue. “Everything looks great Par. That’s still my favorite brand of apple juice, mom always buys it just for me.” She looked at Isra. “Can I bring some of those nana nummies to bribe your kids into liking Auntie Jade?”

“Sure!” Isra chuckled, “I think they’ll appreciate that. So, are we ready to go?”

The others nodded their agreement, and the group headed back out to meet Rhys and the kids for dinner in the park.

For those that don't know, Wren was originally Anna from The Lemon Legacy series written by Bunbeeplays over on Twitter.

The story of Wren's (nee Anna) exodus to my save was a dark tale involving her reckless husband Calvin. He wronged a very powerful and dangerous man with some unwise investment decisions. Not safe from that sims vengeance anywhere in their homeland, in desperation the couple turned to a dark magic that would send them worlds away, with no clear path to follow.

The danger and uncertainty inherent in the process prompted them to leave their young son Jaden in the care of friends.

Upon arrival in my save the LGBTQIA+ mod had Anna questioning her gender identity and she discovered she was non-binary. They divorced Calvin and had another baby, Isra, on their own using IVF. Quite recently in bunbeeplays save Jaden came to the realization that they were transgender and came out as Jade.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

#sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 legacy #sims4 #sims 4 not so berry #sims 4 nsb #sims 4 let's play #sims4nsbstraud #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 lets play

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mychemstat · 9 months

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just text me- ray toro

summary- you don't expect your tutor to be remotely attractive. you certainly don't expect him to care about anything other than his transcript. but seeing the recipient of the president's scholarship and the name on top of the dean's list shredding electric guitar on stage with his tattooed and pierced band members has you reevaluating your life; did you want to fuck your tutor? author's note and warnings- ray/ftm!reader, cunnilingus, sexual tension, nerd ray, suspicious gerard, pete wentz mention if you squint (comment if you find him), trans allegory, smut. enjoy :)

you stare blankly at the loading webpage, gut coiling at the speed of the buffering dots in the middle of the screen. rubbed, red eyes and undone hair bathing in the fluorescent light of the screen, instant noodles steaming near your keyboard in a cheap plastic cup, you lean back in your chair, the plasticky armrests pricking your skin. the only light source in your room is the laptop you were given last year, especially because the main white tubelight in your ceiling makes you depressed, something about the emptiness it casts over your room, reminding you of hospital lights; the feeling of being on display bothers you deeply.

the digital clock on your nightstand reads 3:03 am; near the giant text is a small symbol reading the time you set for your alarm, 8:00 am. most days you would get less than four hours of sleep, so this was not surprising for you at all. you toggle your index finger on the mouse, scrolling down to the end of the page, clicking on “see available tutors.” incisors sinking into the plush flesh of your bottom lip, you skim through the math tutors listed on the pdf.

most tutors were listed under first-year math courses, resulting in an immediate elimination from your shortlist. you word-search “fourth-year data statistics,” meeting with only one result. you pout at the lack of options but click on his profile anyway; not like you have a choice.

there is no profile picture on his listing, just the words “raymond toro: fourth year, dean’s list.” your eyes flicker to his tutoring times and contact information, fingers reaching for the nearest pen and pad to jot down the information. you have definitely heard his name before in classwide emails about how he received the president’s scholarship. but, fucking hell, you never expected him to tutor people; you figured he was just too busy studying to do anything for others.

shutting your laptop, you kick away from your study desk, looking over your roommate’s bed behind you to make sure she doesn’t wake up. she stirs slightly and goes back to softly snoring, making you sigh in relief. tiptoeing to your bed, you lift the covers as quietly as possible and climb in, switching your phone on and going over to instagram.

you ignore your inbox and any notifications that pop down from the top of your screen and focus on typing the tutor’s name into the search bar. you click the top result, the one with the most mutual friends. that has to be him you think, hoping his profile was public.

it was, but it didn’t help; his profile picture was an electric guitar, and he had not posted. furrowing your brows, you bite the inside of your lip, pressing on the tagged pictures.

bingo.

the only picture he was tagged in was posted by the username “gwayyy.” your thumb is quick to scroll through the post, barely paying attention to the owner of the account, tapping on each slide to see if any of the tagged people in the pictures is this “raymond toro.”

you end up in the last slide, meeting the back profile of a man with shoulder-length curly hair, a broad back, and a slimmer waist than you would expect.

you pictured a gallon of hair gel slicking his hair to the side and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses; you know, someone who would get a hard-on from every a-plus they get in their classes.

you switch your phone off, place it on the nightstand and shut your eyes, trying to fall asleep, even though you know you stay up past four in the morning every day.

your eyes shoot open to stare at your wall, the queen poster staring back at you. the aircon sends a chill down your spine, triggering a pang of anxiety and turning your legs into jelly. you cannot afford to lose your scholarship, and your declining grades only add pressure to every fiber in your body.

you miss the first-year of your undergraduate degree, when you could pass exams without studying too much, get high every few days, and waste time with your friends. it definitely does not help that your family wants you to get a well-paying job right out of college, and you are already in your fourth-year, no clue what you want to do with your life. you barely meet with your friends now, forget about getting high for no reason and spending time at some rando’s dorm party getting tipsy, trying to flirt with the nearest warm body you find.

the focused, determined student you once aspired to be had died, leaving but a husk of weak motivation. one part of you wants to graduate and leave this place, the other part does not want to enter the workforce that would put you in a cubicle with other mindless drones feeding capitalism’s drooling gluttonous gut.

or something like that.

plugging in your headphones, you lie on your back, eyelids drooping down. the lulling melody submerging you under a thin layer of unconsciousness.

you dream about a budding flower that night, a dahlia, it seems. it looks fake, though, almost like it is made of plastic. it grows thorns, roots growing deeper and stronger into the soil. dew drops slide into the center of the flower, swirling into a hurricane-like pattern, revealing a red rose.

the enticing nature of the flower, the way it swings against the wind like its first breath of fresh air. the flower stands tall, taller than it did when it was a fake, plastic dahlia. rose petals glow against the moonlight, almost smiling. your chest feels warm, you feel your body rise to the air, disintegrate into rose petals. you are happy.

the deafening ringing of your alarm wakes you up, fluorescent rings of pink and yellow emerging from the darkness under your squinted eyes.

“turn it off, bitch!” you hear your roommate muffle through her pillow, your fingers reaching for the top of the alarm to slam it off. your roommate was never a morning person, exactly like you, so you don’t mind her cussing you out even though she was basically a twenty something year old mother teresa if she were a stoner reincarnated any other time of day.

your phone in one hand and toothbrush in the other, you email the tutor, not putting too much thought into the message before sending it and shoving your phone into your hoodie’s pocket. dark circles curve under your eyes- remnants of last night’s anxiety keeping you up. splashing ice-cold water helps them depuff, you heard.

the library is colder than usual, making you bring the cup of coffee to your eyes and warming them one at a time as you walk toward one of the study rooms. the email he almost immediately replied back with, said he would be in room 102, followed by five exclamations.

way too enthusiastic for a tutoring session. and nine in the morning. and data statistics.

the gray carpet in the building makes you sleepier for some reason, sipping on your drink and knocking on the door labeled ‘102.’ the liquid warms you, soothing your organs as the door creaks open and your head cranes up.

“hey! nice to see you! i’m ray,” the boy flashes you a toothy smile, curly brown hair like you saw in “gwayyy’s” instagram post. you marvel at how tall he is, almost reaching the doorframe. you don’t know whether to feel inferior or attracted to his height, but you nod, reaching your hand out.

his hand engulfs yours easily, fingertips clearly calloused by the way they feel against the back of your palm. your cold hands that were once rigid, are now warm and protected, almost making you gasp at the reintroduction of the aircon to your skin when he pulls back.

he walks in, making way for you as you assess the room. pale eggshell-white walls, destroyed on the edges with water stains, envelop the two of you. it smells like old books and mothballs at first as you drop your back near the foot of the chair nearest to you, and take a seat, adjusting your clothes.

“thanks for replying so fast, by the way. i kind of needed help with this class.” you state, bending down to fish your notebook out as you feel his footsteps near your chair.

his backpack was perched on top of the other side of the table, near the whiteboard, so you knew he was coming near you.

“of course! yeah," raymond speaks. his voice is higher than you expect, masked by a husky filter and you look up at the direction of his voice, surprised by how close he was.

it isn’t weird, he is there to tutor you after all. all he does is pull out a chair near yours, and place his hand on the table, fingers sprawled across the wooden top. you take a millisecond to see how his hand was basically the size of your notebook before meeting his face, closer to getting a better view.

“you know, i don’t get many students hitting me up to tutor them, so this is refreshing. i was totally just going to rot in my bed all day.” he comments, rolling his eyes playfully, trying to make you warm up to him. you smile, looking down at your notebook and grabbing your pen. your go-to move with anyone, platonic or romantic, is avoiding direct eye-contact for as long as possible. you straighten your back, swearing you watched his eyes flicked to your chest before switching to the whiteboard across the room.

“so, what do you need help with?” he asks, pushing his chair back against the rough carpet and walking to the other side, watching his tight black shirt bundle up near his waist. your gaze scans his figure, noticing how the flimsy black fabric hugs his back and trails down to the waistband of his jeans that hug his hips tight. you make a mental note to stop staring but where else are you going to look? you’re there to watch him teach.

nope, you are there to learn, so you don’t fail your classes and lose your scholarship.

that reminder makes you snap out of the staring contest you had with the small of his back and look back up at him, ready with an answer, “uhh. confidence intervals.”

it comes out more like a question, spoiling how clueless you are with the subject and you see him smile and nod at your tone before grabbing a dry-erase marker. five pens lie on the thin metal tray across the underside of the white board, and of course, ray doesn’t grab the one that works well the first time. or the fourth time.

you watch him struggle and cuss through the process, biting back a smile at the way his curls shake at every sigh of disappointment.

“there we go!” he exclaims, writing down the concept name on the white board, involuntarily flexing the muscles bulging near the ends of his short-sleeves. you see the hint of a tiny tattoo under the sleeve but you decide to save that for later amusement and focus on his words.

“so, it’s super simple,” he begins, rambling about the definition, something about how it is the range in which you expect your test value to follow, and you soon realize that it, in fact, was not super simple.

you nod, wanting to let him know that you were listening and alert. your eyes widen, and an unknowing smile spreads on your lips. he talked with his hands. a lot. the more animated he was, the more his hair moved around his face, and the more distracted you were.

“so basically that is how you end up with the test value, do you know how to figure out if it is a right or left-tailed test?”

fuck, what the hell was that? you look away from him, pretending to think, knowing full well you have no fucking clue what it is. you press your lips together and squint your eyes, “...no.”

“no worries, that’s what i’m here for,” he smiles this time, a toothy grin, almost unexpected from someone of his stature, flashing before he turns around to draw yet another bell-curve on the white board. you watch his shoulder blades move with every letter he writes, how the small of his back stands prominent with the tightness of his shirt.

he looks back a few times to confirm your attention, his lips pursing before turning back to the board and continuing teaching. he likes to ramble a lot, you notice, but it isn’t unnecessary by any means. if anything, it helps you retain information.

you ask him questions, pen gliding against the thin notebook paper as you write down what is on the board. he folds his hands, one arm propping up on the other and reaching for his chin like he’s thinking of the answers.

as more time passes, his shoulders relax, the back and forth between the two of you reaching a comfortable rhythm. you ask a question, he goes on a tangent and you fill out another page with ease, all the pieces of puzzle from different lectures falling into place.

you let out a couple astonished “ohhhhh”s, like you finally understood the meaning of life and your tutor just smiles at your surprise each time. you bite down on your lip and knit your brows as he asks you if you understand him or not.

“holy shit, this makes so much sense now.” you drop your head in relief and look back at him screwing the lid of the marker back on. he walks to the chair near you as you pen down the last of the diagram he drew before shutting your notebook close.

“i wish you taught this class instead of higgins,” you comment, stuffing your belongings in your back, “i swear he hates his students.”

“higgins can be a toughie, but he’s just old, you know? and maybe slightly senile.”

you chuckle, “thank you, raymond, seriously,” you rise to your feet strapping your bag on and looking down at where he sits.

“oh, you can just call me ray, raymond is more for the official student records.”

oh, ray toro. has a nice ring to it.

“okay, cool. do you teach anything else, ray?” you don’t expect your words to come out as flirtatiously as they do, but you can’t swallow them so you go with it, flashing a smile to coat them as platonically as possible.

“uh… not officially. but if you ever need me to look over essays, or whatever, i’ll do it, i don’t get much traffic nowadays anyway so i’ll probably be free unless i’m at a gig.”

so that electric guitar in his profile picture wasn’t for show.

“oh, you perform?” you ask, feeling like a stalker.

“yeah, i play guitar in this band, you probably haven’t heard of us.” he waves it off, clearly not one to boast about his personal life.

“i’d love to catch a show,” you blurt out, not expecting your statement to sound as intense as it does.

he cocks an eyebrow, “oh, for real? let me give you my number then, we have this show tomorrow night.”

already exchanging numbers? you giggle internally, watching his fingers tap the screen before giving you his phone.

“i’ll just text you the time and address, gerard's still working out the logistics.” ray explains, erasing the whiteboard and pushing all the chairs into place.

you tilt your head in confusion, “gerard…?”

“oh, he’s our lead singer. you’ll see him tomorrow. hard to miss him.”

ray is right, of course. the next night, after hours of stewing in excitement to see ray perform, you watch this “gerard” dance and sing around the stage, flicking his tongue at the crowd, glistening in sweat from the stage lights beating down on the band. they are good.

you aren’t at the very front though, that space was occupied by people who look like they have been waiting all their lives to see ray’s band perform so you sit right off the pit, pulling your jacket taut into yourself. you squint, trying to gauge a feel for each member. there is one on the left, banging his head, his lips spread apart like he’s mid orgasm at any given moment, tattoos spreading up his arms all the way to his neck. there’s one on the bass, seemingly timid, a beanie pulled over his straightened hair swooped to the side, the only one with glasses on and the tightest shirt on the planet.

then there’s ray whose gaze is fixated down at his guitar, his tongue sticking out like there is nothing more important in the world. his guitar is crystal clear even when the expressive, red-haired frontman screams into the microphone. you feel your heart race at the sight of him shredding on the instrument, bouncing curls and flexing forearms prominent under the yellow lights.

the overpriced drink in your hand that is seventy percent tequila and ten percent juice has you nodding along to the song, even though rock was never in your top genres on spotify. it may be the alcohol or their talent in general, because they sound good. like, scream your heart out to their songs and want to be their groupie good.

okay, maybe the latter is the alcohol talking.

mostly girls around you fawn over the band’s frontman, or the one playing the bass, mikey, you gather from their screams. as their set comes to an end, he girls beeline from the pit to the backstage, excited giggles erupting one after the other. you feel like shit.

ray is probably straight. he probably fucks girls left and right, he’s in a rock band after all.

the defeatist in you, however, soon fails as you find your fingers fighting the cold and typing out a message to ray.

-hey, i watched your set. you were great!

a sense of superiority dawns over you. do the others have his number? fuck no, they don’t.

your eyes follow ray as he walks out the stage with his guitar in one hand and the amplifier in the other. fuck, he’s strong.

the tequila has hit you, you realize, as you rake your eyes over his body from the crowd, a strange sense of jealousy over someone you met only yesterday pricking at your chest. your phone vibrates against your palm in your coat pocket, and you see a text from ray.

-super! you wanna come backstage?”

bing-fuckin-o.

you send a thumbs up and begin your trail around the venue, budding anxiety popping like bubbles. your eyes scour for the backstage, or any group of girls bunched together. where there’s smoke there’s fire, after all.

you hear your name through the commotion of screams and giggles and whip your head in the direction, spotting him. he waves from inside a shed, the door open for anyone who wants to meet the band. you flash a smile, feeling giddy that he has the same interest in you as you do after only a few days of meeting him.

he’s just being nice, you tell yourself.

he wants to fuck you, you argue, immediately knowing which part of you is the drunk one.

you fight the wind, running toward the shed that has a string of fairy lights wrapped around the inside of the room. the room isn’t huge; enough for about twenty people to stand around and mingle. a sudden warmth embraces you as you blow a tired breath out and approach ray who’s nursing a beer, his eyebrows shooting up.

“you made it! how’d you like us?” ray raises his voice over the slightly loud music playing over somebody’s bluetooth speaker. you look over at the noise and look up at him through your eyelashes, feeling smaller than him.

it turns you on.

“you were awesome! the way you shred, it was so fucking cool.” ray hears you curse for the first time and giggles, the same toothy grin flashing across his face. he takes a swig of his beer, bringing the mouth of the glass bottle to his- wow his lips were plump.

the shed is barely lit, a lavender-colored sunset light on the right corner of the floor was the only light source. a strong scent of cigarettes and weed lingers in the air and occasionally clears out as the door opens when someone has to go out to piss, you assume. people huddle in groups, some way larger than the others. but ray stood alone when you walked in.

he leans down to you, and your heart stops momentarily. his breath fans the shell of your ear. his face was fucking near yours.

“i didn’t think you would make it.” he says, this time at a regular volume now that his lips were right near your ears. you shiver when his breath hits your skin, failing to compute what he says for a second.

you lean toward his ear, pulling him in by his arms on reflex because he seems too far to your tipsy ass brain, “of course i did. i need to get my grades up!” you joke, hoping to god he sees the humor lacing your voice.

he chuckles, oh how sweet his voice is, you think, relief fighting the cortisol in your brain.

“ray! what are you doing all the way over-” you hear his name being called, a blur of red hair knifing through the little crowd around him. you could see girls’ hands drag across his chest and even grab his shirt and he flashes them an obligatory get-the-fuck-off-me smile before catching up to the man in front of you.

it is gerard, his red hair dripping in sweat making him the most easy to recognize. you watch the shorter guy turn his head towards you, “who’s this, ray?”

ray introduces you, “i tutored him yesterday.”

gerard’s eyes scan you from head to toe, a polite smile appearing, “good to know you’re not trying to rip ray’s clothes off like that crowd back there.”

if only he knew. you chuckle at his comment, looking at ray nervously before turning toward gerard, “you guys were super great, by the way.”

“you’re sweet, aren’t you.” gerard tilts his head, his fingers massaging ray’s biceps. you believe gerard notices the way your eye twitches at his move on ray and the corner of his mouth perks up, “huh, maybe not.”

the crowd filters out of the shed, leaving the band and a couple of their friends, you assume, to let their hair down and get a couple of drinks in.

“how long do these,” you look around at people rolling joints and pout, impressed, “...afterparties go on for?”

ray looks up, trying to come up with an answer, “uh, like a few hours, no one knows really. i live on campus so i leave whenever i want to, sometimes g and frank stay back. sometimes we see mikey come to practice the next day with the same clothes on,” he shrugs, “it’s different every time.”

you aren’t sober by any means, but you aren’t piss-drunk either when you meet frank and mikey, the shorter one with a scorpion tattoo on his neck, with closer inspection, betraying his onstage persona. mikey, who you’re told is gerard’s younger brother, is as quiet as he seems when he plays on stage. you smile at him and make small talk, compliment his neon genesis evangelion shirt and he grins in surprise, revealing his pointy canines.

ray is across the room, mingling with some people who you assume are from other bands who performed before them. a man with a shorter stature and a fuckton of eyeliner, wearing a zip-up hoodie that barely hid his torso, a tattoo around his collarbone with nothing underneath, sips on a cigarette and talks to ray, looking up at him like you did yesterday.

you don’t realize how long you’re staring until ray finds your stare, downing the beer he holds so casually between his index and middle finger. your gut flips. heat spreads from your chest to your stomach, making you crush your paper cup and throw it away in dismissal.

you dream of the same flower you did yesterday. an odd sense of belonging tags along the haze you’re merged in. this time with another rose beside it. the roots of the other, pinker rose intertwined with yours, the ends connecting and becoming one.

you wake up the next morning with a headache you haven’t had in months. you’ve heard of hangover remedies like swallowing a raw egg yolk. but you would never do that, even if it meant you were throwing up in the paper bag near your nightstand. which you do.

admittedly, throwing up makes you feel better before you realize what you have to do today.

the stack of papers on your table resembles mount everest as you contemplate the quantity of it all. not only had you forgotten about the project, but it is also due tomorrow night.

grabbing a coffee and a breakfast sandwich from the cafeteria, you sprint back to your dorm, trying not to wake your roommate up who had worked late last night and met you on the way to your shared room after the afterparty with ray’s band.

ray was offering and insisting that he drop you off since he invited you there, but you politely declined, horny and exhausted out of your mind.

the way he looked at you last night. his gaze clinging to every inch of you before looking away, had not only given you some interesting dreams that may have involved getting fucked in the lecture hall, but also left a lasting feeling that there was a ball of fire in your ribcage.

you consider asking ray for help on your project.

no, you can’t. he has better things to do.

scanning through the question on the paper only makes you lean into the idea. suddenly forgetting everything ray taught you the day before. time blurs for you, and you don’t realize you have already texted ray and asked him if he can help you, fixing your hair and second-guessing your outfit.

wait, why did you care?

your phone dings.

-all of the study rooms are booked :(

you throw your phone on the bed, the pile of papers making your stomach sink lower into your body. fuck, you’re going to fail the class. you’re going to fail all because you went to the show yesterday to look at this fucking boy, who caught your fucking eye, and you wanted to fuc-

-unless you’re okay with me coming over.

you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t pound so hard against your rib cage that your ears started ringing. you send the same thumbs up emoji, pretending to be casual, regular; anything synonymous with normalcy. the coffee in your system kicks into overdrive; you straighten out your room, tell your roommate to get the fuck out once she gets up and receive a bunch of sex jokes in exchange, all of which you blush at.

“have fun blowing that dude,” she yells, probably loud enough for your neighbors to hear. she closes the door on the way out, missing the paper ball you threw at her.

“oh wow, your room is way cleaner than mine.” ray appears at your dorm in another tight black shirt, this time with the iron maiden logo that has clearly fought the washer and lost the fight multiple times.

you see him duck through the door frame, fixing his hair back into position, and you try not to feel your heart wrench at the sight of him being adorable. you bring the papers down to the floor, a signal for ray to mirror you. he sits next to the foot of the bed, leaning against the wooden leg. his hands wrap around his knee, neck craning near yours to get a better look at the questions laid out on the fluffy grayish white carpet.

you don’t realize that the shorts you’re wearing ride up your thighs, almost presenting themselves to the taller figure in the room. your legs lay on top of each other, almost parallel to the direction ray faces. you prop yourself up on the ball of your left palm, the arm that is stretched behind you, leaning into ray. ray begins helping you, talking about the different mistakes you make as you go through the process of solving the questions. his voice rings near your face, and you find yourself adjusting your seat on the carpet, moving the hem of the shorts closer to your pelvis.

ray begins stuttering, and for a while you wonder what that is about. he strokes his chin like he’s thinking hard but it is clear that he is pretending to do so. the room gets hotter and you turn your head to check the thermostat.

it’s the same.

maybe it is the way you meet ray’s eyes, his plump, berry lips curving into a smirk at every joke you crack, or the way he, at least you think, gets distracted by your legs on display. he bends down to the papers, the fabric of the shirt stretching over his back, and you can’t help but think about leaving scratches on his back and trailing your fingers down his spine.

ray smells like soap and the kind of cologne that a college kid can afford, not too charming, not too repellant. his hair is nearer to you than his face, and you can smell his shampoo that’s kind of coconut-y and beachy, and you try your best not to audibly inhale.

you go through the papers at the speed of lightning with ray there to coach you through it. you chew and bite your lip, working through the problems with utter concentration. sometimes you don’t realize that ray is talking, and you end up ignoring him and apologizing for spacing out at the project.

“holy shit, you were focused huh? like shiva at his penance,” ray comments, and you don’t understand. and he figures.

“shiva is a hindu deity. he’s known to be the sage of all sages, nobody would disturb his penance on top of this mountain in india,” he says, like he's almost embarrassed about knowing trivia.

“wow…” you trail off, “and you just know all this?”

he chuckles, ducking his head and looking back up, “i used to google things a lot as a kid…” you cock an eyebrow, not believing him.

“...and maybe i still do.” he admits, palming his face, hiding that smile of his you love to see.

“i admire that actually. i used to be obsessed with dinosaurs, google was like my life for a good few years” you comment, not expecting his countenance to be that of enthrallment; almost childlike joy.

“you’re kidding, right? i did too! if you ever come over, you’ll see dinosaur stickers on my laptop and some of my drawers.” and you try not to think too much about the implication of the statement.

you sort through the papers to make sure you don’t miss a single page and then turn toward ray, who was closer than before. you see specks of gray and black in his eyes, the way his nose bumps up slightly, freckles adorning his olive-toned skin. you notice he has dimples, appearing with each smile. his toothy grin melts you, and you feel that similar warmth you felt last night blossoming in your ribs.

your breath hitches in your throat before you realize you’re staring like a madman into his eyes.

“good job today,” ray says, his hand shaking your shoulder, jolts of electricity branching up the point of contact. you look away, a tight-lipped smile masking the sudden pulse his compliment sent straight between your legs.

“oh, thanks. i really couldn’t have done this without you.”

ray waves you off, leaning away, upsetting you slightly, “of course you could have. i just pointed you in the direction, you were the one on the journey.”

“any chance you play dnd?” you question, almost teasing his attempt at being poetic.

“it’s that obvious, huh?”

you both laugh, voices ringing out. you don’t remember laughing like this in a while, especially with someone you admired this much. the laughs settle into a comfortable silence as the two of you look out at the plane passing through the window.

“you know, you’re super talented.” you say, out of the blue, and immediately regret it, thinking you were giving away too much. he turns to you, you observe through your peripheral vision, almost like he knows you have more to say.

“i mean. the way you just performed like it was breathing to you, it really is rare to see talent like that, especially in this dump of a town.” you finish, clearing your throat in the end, waiting for him to say something.

“i don’t know what to say,”

“for starters, a thank you would suffice,” you quip, a humorous tone tagging along.

he starts to rise from his seat, “thanks, i do appreciate it. it’s difficult for me to take compliments, though, if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

you ignore him, “oh yeah, you probably have to leave, sorry to keep yo-”

“no no! i love helping other students, you weren’t keeping me from anything else. i just have band practice in a few, so i have to get going,”

you swear you hear regret in his voice but maybe you liked to lie to yourself.

as you watch him see himself out, you wait for him to turn around, say something.

come on, don’t leave without giving me something.

“oh by the way,” ray turns around. you hope he doesn’t notice your eyes gleam at the sudden lightbulb moment of his.

“there’s a mixer on sunday. the band’s gonna be there. you should come, if you’re not busy.”

you nod, and he leaves with a promise that he’ll text you the address.

he does, followed by a text that says, “hope 2 c u :)”, and you receive a side eye from your roommate who watches you bury your face in your pillow and kick your feet. something about the way ray had to peel his eyes off your legs subconsciously makes you pick something that shows them off, ending up with fishnets and a short skirt you bought on a whim months ago that collected dust in the back of your closet.

at this point, you know one thing. ray isn’t straight. you very well know you can imagine and exaggerate situations to fit your narrative, and that very well may be the case, but you don’t care.

it’s your last year. it doesn’t matter if you’re rejected or if you really are imagining things. senioritis in university makes you hit a special low where you could care less what happened. you borrow a jacket from your roommate, ignoring the comment on how she would be really mad if you got ray’s jizz on it.

sunday rolls in and your stomach does not stop jumping. you had somehow completed all your work ahead of time without having to ask ray for help. anxiety was nowhere to be found, just excitement and a little bit of nervousness to see him after days of texting him.

he had sent you a picture of the dinosaur sticker on his drawer unprompted, and your heart skipped a beat at the notification before you began having conversations that extended late into the night.

late night conversations turn into exchanging music recommendations and funny videos you find. he sends you videos of his band playing, and he’s the only one you watch, but of course you say, “you guys are going to make it big someday.”

saturday night before turning in, you text him.

-good luck. can’t wait to see you guys perform.

-you’re sweet.

you keep going back to the text, giggling at it throughout the day, even as you get dressed for the mixer. you keep telling yourself he’s being nice but you are at the event, looking around for ray or gerard, or anyone you know. a rotating light hung low in the middle of the floor, a small podium for people to perform at the mixer. people hover around the bar, clearly no age check involved in the process as they swipe drinks and trail off with a huge smile on their faces.

you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you swear your heart jumps into your throat.

“ray! i’ve been trying to find you forever.” you look up at him, a sliver of purple and pink lights from the disco ball light streaks across his face like an illuminated scar.

“so have i, come on back, this place is just for the general public,” he nods his head toward the other direction, fingers grabbing your wrist and nudging you toward him.

“ooo, i feel like a groupie,” you comment, and you hear him giggle, thanking god he doesn’t take you seriously no matter how much you want your words to be true.

gerard sips a cigarette indoors, frank tunes his guitar with an ear down to the strings, and mikey is nowhere to be found. gerard looks amused at you as he blows smoke out. ray steps out to grab drinks, and you feel vulnerable. exposed.

“so…” gerard begins, and you know he’s not about to make small talk, “ray has told me a lot about you.”

“all of us actually,” frank interjects, and you look at both of them, bewildered.

“oh,” he talks about you? “all good things, i hope.”

“oh yes, overwhelmingly.” gerard ashes the stick between his fingers on the crystal tray near him. you sense mischief in his voice as he gives you the same head-to-toe scan that he did the first time you met him.

“ray isn’t the outgoing type,” mikey walks in. you turn around in surprise to see him without his beanie and glasses for the first time. you can see how similar his features are to gerard’s.

“yet, here you are, after what?” gerard tilts his head, “a week of meeting him?”

his tone isn’t malicious, nothing he says could sound malicious because he knew how to talk to people, how to handle them. that’s what made him a good frontman.

“would you be surprised if i say i don’t gel well with strangers either?” you shrug and straighten your back, trying not to seem so timid around them.

they chuckle with you at the irony of the statement, gerard simply says, “i like you,”

you tilt your head slightly, not sure what to say and gerard offers you his cigarette, “ray doesn’t trust people often. and when he does he’s rarely wrong.”

you wave his offer with a small “no, thanks,” and he continues, “i hope he isn’t wrong.”

“are you okay?” ray asks you after the show, a beer in his right hand as he leans back into the wall of the green room.

“yeah, i’m fine, i think i was just too close to the speakers so my head hurts a bit,”

you aren’t fine. you’re thinking about what gerard said to you, and you barely paid attention to the performance and focused on distracting yourself with a shot of tequila that burned deliciously down your throat.

you make eye contact with gerard across the room who is sitting on frank’s lap for some reason, his stare less threatening at this point because ray is there. he can’t be obvious.

gut slowly burning and the alcohol in your system climbing up to your head, you ask ray if he wants shots and before you know it you’re carrying a small tray of salt and slices of lime with two little vials of tequila.

“do you know how to do this?” you ask, not knowing what you got yourself into.

“yeah it's super simple,” you hear, trying your best not to giggle at his go-to phrase, “lick, shoot, and suck.”

you dip the back of your hand in the hill of salt, where the index finger and the thumb meet, you glance at ray once before nodding, and lick up a stripe of your hand. ray does the same and you try not to think about the fact that that is how he would look between your legs. you throw your head back in unison with ray, squinted eyes and sour face, sucking at the bright green slice of fruit before smacking your lips.

ray sits beside you, thighs pressed up against yours, leaning into you, giggling. a rosy blush rises to his cheeks, and his eyelids lie lower than before. your body is on fire. tipsy words making you stutter and laugh for no reason, forgetting about what gerard said for a while.

ray walks you to your dorm that night, stumbling on the street and giggling at nothing in particular. you clutch his shirt for support as you burst into a fit of laughter at a joke he makes, not caring if you’re loud.

the lingering breeze in the air makes your skin feel less hot even though being near ray was enough to make you sweat through a leather jacket. the streetlights shine down on the two of you, slowing down in your path and strolling, kicking pebbles and making a game out of them.

you ask him how he got into playing guitar, he tells you a story about how he got ripped off buying his first guitar that broke in the first fifteen minutes of playing it. you tell him about your university experience, your plans for your career.

he beams at you with genuine admiration in his eyes, eyes softening. the spirit had weakened its effects on your body; you walked with a straighter back and a higher chin than before. almost like a gateway opening for your anxiety.

“so, gerard told me something,” you begin, not sure what you want to know from striking this topic up.

“hm? what’d he say?” he asks, kicking the poor pebble on the pavement.

“he said you don’t make friends that easily.” it sounds bad out loud, but you know that he knows what you mean.

he chortles, “yeah? what else did he say?”

you raise an eyebrow, as if checking with him if you should continue, “he just… he said he hopes you’re not wrong with me.”

the two of you enter your dorm, shuffling through pockets and keycards. ray stays quiet. you noticed he does that when he isn’t ready to talk just yet because he’s thinking of the most logical and rational answer possible.

“why did he-” he begins, and you listen, ignoring the fact that ray follows you to your actual room, trying to justify his friend’s words.

“he said something about how you can’t stop talking about me and thinking about me,” you flash a shit-eating grin, his eyes widening immediately.

“that fucker…” he trails off, his head dropping down in defeat.

“so it’s true?” you ask, leaning your back against the main door, a foot propped up on the surface. your back is straight, if not arched. you feel the after effects of downing two shots of fireball take over, the haze of the liquor blurs the line between “study buddies.”

he steps closer to you. there’s barely anyone outside in the hallways, they are either out partying or fast asleep. his hand trails up the doorframe, palm against the bumped surface. he’s so big that he casts a shadow over you from the main light. you notice his eyes trace your figure, backed up against a door, at his mercy.

his left arm trails up your waist and stays there, “do you want it to be?”

your bodies move in the dark, an orchestra of heavy breaths and moans bouncing off your dorm’s walls. the posters in your room are but flies on the wall as ray carries you to your bed, your legs wrapped tight around his waist. you lick into his mouth, his warm and soft lips slick with your saliva engulfing yours.

you breathe in, the scent of his sweat driving your senses into a frenzy and your grip on his hair tenses up. he pulls away to look at your face under the moonlight beaming through your frosted window. ray tastes like the tequila you downed with him, deliciously bitter and intoxicating, his shiny lips sending waves of lightning to your clit.

neither of you have spoken a word, fingers and lips grabbing and groping each other like hormonal teenagers away from their families at summer camp. ray places you on your bed, your sheets suddenly feeling foreign to you with him hovering above you, his fingers nosing toward the curve of your ass.

involuntary whimpers escape your throat as his fingers stroke down the back of your thighs; he hooks one of them to the fishnets and rips them in one go, handling your thighs like he starves for something more than open mouthed kisses over his lips that make his cock stir in his tight jeans. the gasp you let out is more out of pleasure and surprise, and less of you mourning the loss of your clothing.

“all this time, toro, yo- ah, fuck you- you liked me?” you kiss his neck as he works on peeling the fishnets off your legs, throwing your legs over his shoulders, elbows digging into your mattress, leaving kisses up your inner thighs. your arousal was obvious, ray- even you- could smell it through your underwear.

ray stops and climbs up to face you, his fingers stroking your happy trail and you buck your hips for more just at his touch at your sensitive waist. he asks you if you’re okay and if you want to stop, you need to tell him.

you grab him by his collar and pull him in, teeth clashing, skin feeling like a burning matchstick, flame eating away at its wooden body. you blabber nonsense, not able to get enough of his full lips around yours; hands lacing around his waist pulling him so close that if he didn’t pull away you would be crushed by his body weight. he kisses down your stomach, his calloused fingers soothing under your hoodie and to your breasts, tracing under the mounds of flesh before his hands flew to your thighs.

soft trailing kisses become warm, careful presses down your stomach. you breathe like you don’t want him to hear how bad you need him, but your efforts are soon wasted as he presses his nose against your clit.

inner thighs pressing into his ears, hips bucking up to the warmth of his mouth over the damp cotton underwear, you look down at him, locks of curls falling beautifully over his eyes. his tongue licks a stripe up through the fabric, the frills of your skirt resembling one of those bell-curves ray drew on the whiteboard the first time you met him, with him underneath it.

skilled tongue that circles on your clit before curling his digits under the hem of your panties, yanking the fabric off your skin, a sudden chill making you feel exposed. ray doesn’t let you feel that way any longer; his tongue licks up the folds of your pussy, tasting you whole and you almost pass out from the sheer euphoria locking down the ends of your spine on your bed, the arch in your back pushing your clit further against his nose.

you beg and beg and beg him to do something. he simply chuckles and swipes the pad of his thumb on your slit before dipping his middle finger into you, a guttural groan emanating from your throat. your feet move against his crotch and you feel his dick strain against his tight jeans, his tongue replacing his finger and tugging you into his face, delving into you.

hands thread through his curls, clutching and pulling at him needing to feel a release expeditiously. the hotness of his mouth against your pulsing core has you palming your tits hoodie, playing and pinching at your nipples.

teeth pulling at the skin on your thighs, making you moan helplessly has him circling your clit with his thumb, wanting to hear more of your voice. you chant his name like a prayer, like he would somehow lift your soul up to the heavens with his tongue.

his stubble adds delectable friction to your cunt and you gasp like your life depends on him; you forget everything. every word, every person in the world, every fucking thing is wiped clean like patterns in the sand under the foamy waves of the ocean.

your thighs clench around his head, the honestly fucking corrupt noises of him devouring your pussy muffling under the flesh of your tastefully bruised thighs. he hums lowly, gulping and licking and gorging, the vibrations of his voice (that you didn’t know could get that fuckin low) driving you closer to the white light of orgasm that seems so close.

his moans crescendo as the heels of your feet grind into his cock, his lips pressing and sucking harder at your clit, his fingers that once moved carefully in your slick walls, now quickening and curling up into you.

you plead, you beg, you pray to him, hips jerking againsts mouth as his teeth lightly graze over the swollen lips of your cunt, your nails scratch his scalp perfectly, the tip of his tongue licks up your clit perfectly and his fingers, oh his fingers, scratch an itch seated so deep inside you that you swear you see stars before tipping over the edge, bottom lips falling open in a silent plea.

you ride his nose, his tongue, you push his head down, fist his hair, do whatever it takes, to make your orgasm last as long as possible, ankles meeting at the back of his neck. the way your legs shake at his last lap on your swollen clit, moonlight reflecting off of his beautiful brown eyes and your arousal dripping down his chin makes you go dizzier- if it was even fucking possible- and you feel like you’re high on the world’s most euphoric drug.

you smile down at him, fingers holding his cheeks gently, nudging him up to meet your face; his palms digging into your ruined sheets on either side of you, lowering his wet lips onto yours, wanting you to taste yourself against his tongue. you breathe into his kiss, his hair falling on your face, you feel him smile against your mouth and you suddenly remember.

“ray, do you want me to-” you start, eyebrows twisting up in concern and he cuts you off with another sweet kiss to your lips.

“you expect me to not cream my pants when you’re splayed out like this in front of me, in this little fucking thing around your waist?” his words sound harsh, but admiration fills his eyes, and you know it’s just an amalgamation of what the both of you have been feeling for the past few days.

“you fucking-” you sputter, still recovering from incredible high- the type of orgasm that the little toy in your nighstand or your fingers could never give you, “-you fucker.”

he sits back on the bed, pulling down your skirt and helping you up to sit, his hands sturdy as a brick wall holding you up while your legs still solidify. as viciously as he ate you out mere minutes ago, he was back to being himself, sweet, nerdy, kind ray. helpful as ever.

“can i take you out tomorrow?” he asks, his thumb stroking yours, like he’s afraid he’ll break you.

you kiss his neck and then his jaw, smiling up at him, “just text me the address.”

22 notes · View notes

mi-rae07 · 1 year

Text

Park Seonghwa : Memory (Part 1/4)

Pairing : Park Seonghwa (Ateez) and named character (Yoon Si-yeol)

______________________

Synopsis : Seonghwa is a terrible boyfriend to siyeol, to the point where she almost wants to leave him. But then she gets into a car accident, losing all her memories. What is seonghwa going to do now? Is he going to keep his distance? Or is he going to take her back?

______________________

Nurse : hello, is this Park Seonghwa?

Seonghwa : yes, yes it is. Is something wrong?

Nurse : do you perhaps know someone by the name of Yoon Si-yeol?

Seonghwa : she's my girlfriend. Did…something happen to her?

Nurse : she's gotten into a car accident, sir. If you'd like to see her, she's in Medical center hospital right now.

And that was all it had took for seonghwa to rush out of the house, driving his car in a speed he had never driven in before. He could care less about the laws that prohibited him from doing it.

And the more he drove, the more their memories flashed through his mind.

_______________

8 YEARS AGO:

Siyeol : uhm, hi. I'm supposing you do not know me-

Seonghwa : you're yoon siyeol, I know you. You literally sit next to me in class.

Siyeol : oh! Yes, uhm…do you maybe, wanna be friends, then?

Seonghwa : I don't really like you though?

Siyeol : o-oh, then it's-

Seonghwa : I'll still be your friend, because I'm bored.

________________

7 YEARS AGO:

Siyeol : seonghwa?

Seonghwa : yeah.

Siyeol : will you look at me for once?

Seonghwa : what is it, siyeol?

Siyeol : I love you.

Seonghwa : no you don't.

Siyeol : yes I do. I love you, and I want you to be my boyfriend.

Seonghwa : really.

Siyeol : I'm not kidding, hwa.

Seonghwa : fine then, whatever.

Siyeol : w-what?

Seonghwa : I said I'll be your boyfriend, siyeol.

Siyeol : but…do you love me, then?

Seonghwa : does it matter? I'm still your boyfriend, aren't I?

_______________

6 YEARS AGO:

Siyeol : seonghwa?

Seonghwa : what.

Siyeol : do you wanna go out for a date tonight?

Seonghwa : why, is there something special tonight?

Siyeol : you went for a business trip for 2 months and came back only a day ago, don't you think it's been a while since we spent time with each other?

Seonghwa : do we really have to go?

Siyeol : I-I mean, if you want-

Seonghwa : fine, let's just go tonight.

_______________

5 MONTHS AGO:

Siyeol : seonghwa, do you love me?

Seonghwa : we've been dating for 7 years.

Siyeol : and yet you still act as if I'm a burden to you. You're always so cold-

Seonghwa : if you're going to complain, do that after I'm asleep, please.

Siyeol : seonghwa.

Seonghwa : what do you want?

Siyeol : for you to say you love me.

Seonghwa : just go to sleep, siyeol.

Siyeol : hwa, please. I-

Seonghwa : stop begging and just let me sleep.

Siyeol : fine then, sleep.

________________

4 DAYS AGO:

Seonghwa : I love you, yeol-ah. I know I don't say any of this when you're awake but I love you. You mean the entire world to me and if anything happens to you, I'm going to burn the entire world down with me in it. I wish you would always stay next to me, and I wish you'd never stop loving me. Every day is a torture for me, but you make me want to endure it. And for that, I love you.

________________

3 HOURS AGO:

Siyeol : WHY WON'T YOU EVER EVEN LOOK AT ME, PARK SEONGHWA!

Seonghwa : god, you're too loud. I can hear you even if you don’t scream, siyeol.

Siyeol : you're being so fucking UNREAL.

Seonghwa : am I?

Siyeol : have you ever initiated anything? Ever said you loved me? Ever been anything to me but a cold ass monster?

Seonghwa : you see me as a monster?

Siyeol : even monsters are better than you, seonghwa. I never should have asked you to date me. In fact I never should have even talked to you.

Seonghwa : then correct yourself, go ahead. Leave me like I always knew you would.

Siyeol : that'd be so much more better than being here anyway. You're torture to me, seonghwa. A curse, even. Your love gives me nothing but unhappiness and despair. You're just a whole fucking nightmare.

_________________

Seonghwa opened the car door as he stepped out into the hospital area, running towards the entrance as tears ran down his cheeks. He tripped over a stone and fell down, bruising his hand and knees in the process. But he ignored the pain and ran towards the emergency room, the entire place blurry because of his tears. But even through all that he saw a nurse, quickly running up to her as he asked

Seonghwa : my…siyeol, yoon siyeol, is she…f-fine?

Nurse : oh yes, you're park seonghwa. She's uh, she's currently being operated. If I were to be truly honest, she was brought here in a pretty terrible condition, with her skull severely damaged, so her brain might've been affected. I do not really know whether she would make it out alive, and even if she does, there might be some complications. But we can still always be hopeful, sir.

Fuck that. Seonghwa rushed towards the emergency room, banging the door open with trembling hands. Again, he could care less about what he was and wasn't supposed to do.

The nurses and doctors inside looked at him with shocked eyes, some of them quickly rushing towards him and asking him to step out. But seonghwa could only stare at siyeol who was covered with a thousand bandages and switches, a part of her head torn open while a few doctors were trying to do something about it. He felt bile rise up to his throat as the workers finally pushed seonghwa outside, making him stumble on his steps as he fell down outside the emergency room with an exasperated sob.

The scene of siyeol lying in that bed with bruises ran through his mind, completely contrasting the usually smiley bubbly siyeol seonghwa was used to. He ran to the nearest trashcan, throwing up onto it as sobs wrecked his body. The harder he held onto the edge of the trashcan, the more blood seeped through the earlier cut on his palm, the blood running down the trashcan as seonghwa threw up onto it.

And the nurse could only watch as seonghwa pulled himself away from the trashcan a few minutes later, sliding down the wall as wails filled the hallway. She knew there was no use in trying to talk to him, not when he couldn't probably even form words anymore with how shattered he was.

And she thought, how much he loved her to be so miserable about her accident.

____________________

Si-hyun rushed into the hallway of the hospital his sister was in right now, tears in his eyes. And as soon as he saw the figure crouched down on the ground next to the emergency room, he walked up to him before pulling the man up by his collar.

Sihyun : you-

Sihyun cut himself off as seonghwa's teary blank eyes came into his view, the usual cold eyes now filled with absolutely nothing. But tears still continued streaming down seonghwa's eyes, as if he actually cared about sihyun's sister.

Sihyun : you're crying? After everything you did to my noona, you're fucking crying, you bastard?

Seonghwa didn't even flinch when he felt sihyun punch him in the face, seonghwa falling on the floor at the impact as he felt blood gush down his nose. But sihyun picked him up again, glaring at him through his teary eyes as he said

Sihyun : she loved you, and you destroyed her. You think there's any other reason she's in that room apart from you?

Seonghwa just continued staring right into sihyun's eyes with his blank ones, causing sihyun even more rage as he punched seonghwa again. This time, in the gut.

Seonghwa fell down once again from the hit, this time coughing hoarsely as he clutched his stomach in pain.

Sihyun : I always told her she deserved better, I always told noona you would never make her happy. But she never listened, she always kept telling me you would change some day, and give her the love and happiness she deserved. She was wrong, noona was so wrong and this is the price she must pay for being with a cursed being like you.

Seonghwa just laid on the floor with an emotionless face, taking in everything sihyun was telling him. Because he knew sihyun was right, he knew this was his fault. Maybe if siyeol had chosen someone other than him, she would've been happy now.

But instead she chose someone like him, and that was going to now cost her, her life.

___________________

2 weeks later :

Seonghwa climbed the railing of the hospital rooftop with shaky hands, his legs trembling from how less he had eaten this past week. How could he, when the doctors had told him siyeol had gone into coma, not knowing when or if she would ever wake up. It had been two weeks, and with the amount of things he had heard from both sihyun, siyeol's friends and seonghwa's own parents who all loved siyeol dearly, he believed that maybe if he took himself off of this world, siyeol would wake up.

And so seonghwa stared at the ground feets below him, knowing that if he jumped, he would definitely die. And that was what he wanted, if it meant siyeol's betterment. Ever since he had met siyeol, he had lived for her. And he wouldn't care dying for her either.

Seonghwa was just about to jump when he felt the door bang open, a gasp audible behind him.

??? : no! no no, sir! Please do not jump.

It was the nurse who had called up seonghwa that day to tell him about siyeol, and the only person who seemed to care the littlest at least about seonghwa now.

Nurse : sir, turn around please.

Seonghwa did not. In fact he just continued staring blankly into the ground, deciding to jump. That was until, the nurse uttered her next words

Nurse : the ma'am is awake now.

Seonghwa rushed into siyeol's room as soon as he could after that, the room being filled with doctors and sihyun, who was running his hand along his sister's hair as she stared at him.

Seonghwa : siyeol.

Both siyeol and sihyun turned around at that, sihyun's eyes betraying anger as he rushed towards seonghwa, trying to push him out of the room.

Sihyun : get out.

Seonghwa : no. no please, please sihyun just let me see her one more time.

Sihyun : you do not deserve that, park seonghwa.

Seonghwa sobbed, shaking his head as he whispered desperately

Seonghwa : please, please just-

Siyeol : hyun-ah, let him through.

Sihyun paused at his sister's words as he turned around to face siyeol, siyeol nodding her head in order to let seonghwa through. And so sihyun let go of him as seonghwa ran up to siyeol before falling on his knees beside her bed.

Seonghwa : siyeol, baby I-

Siyeol : who are you?

Seonghwa froze, his eyes widening at her words.

Seonghwa : s-siyeol?

Siyeol : oh wait, you're the guy who sits next to me in class. Park seonghwa, was it?

Seonghwa let out a shaky breath, moving away from siyeol. She didn't remember him, she…she had lost her memories.

Sihyun : yes he is, he's just a classmate of yours.

Siyeol : thank you for coming here though, I appreciate-

Siyeol cut herself off as seonghwa stood up, stumbling on his steps as tears fell from his eyes. He didn't know whether to feel happy she didn't remember him or sad. After all, seonghwa was terrible to siyeol, he was her curse. Wouldn't it be better if she didn't remember him so she could live a life apart from seonghwa?

Seonghwa turned away from siyeol and walked out of the room, tears cascading down his cheeks.

_____________________________

Siyeol : hyun-ah.

Sihyun : mm?

Siyeol : what's wrong with me?

Sihyun looked up at his sister who was now sitting up in her hospital bed, having lunch.

Sihyun : noona, what-

Siyeol : no, I know something is wrong with me. This isn't 2013, is it? It's 2023.

Sihyun sighed, deciding he should be the one to tell his sister the truth. She deserved to know.

Sihyun : you lost 10 years of your memories after an accident, noona.

Siyeol nodded, already having expected that.

Siyeol : do I have any chances of getting them back?

Sihyun : you do, it's just a 30% of happening though.

Siyeol : so I'm…28 years old now?

Sihyun : yeah, yes you're 28.

Siyeol : do I uh, have any children? Or a husband, boyfriend, anything?

Sihyun pressed his lips together, his mind going to seonghwa. He didn't like seonghwa, he never really had. But was it fair to siyeol to be lying to her? He didn't care anymore, it was better to avoid matters of seonghwa with her now.

Sihyun : no you don’t. you're still very painfully single, noona.

Siyeol whacked sihyun's arm, making him giggle as he motioned towards her food

Sihyun : eat well, my sister.

____________________________

A week later :

Seonghwa peeked into siyeol's room through the glass window on the door, trying to find her inside it. It was the 5th time he was doing something like this this week. He had kept mental notes of the time sihyun would leave siyeol to use the restroom at night and would use that time to stare at siyeol to make sure she was fine. He didn't have the courage to face her when she was awake anyway.

But today he couldn't find siyeol in her bed, in fact she was nowhere to be found. Seonghwa frowned and was about to enter the room in worry when a voice interrupted him

Siyeol : you're still here, seonghwa-shi?

Seonghwa flinched at the voice, stepping away as his eyes landed on siyeol who was standing a few meters away from him with folded hands.

Seonghwa : oh.

Siyeol : do I…did I mean something more to you than just a classmate? I'm aware I lost 10 years of my memory so, did something happen between us within those years?

Seonghwa's eyes immediately teared up at her words, his heart dropping as he realized siyeol was never probably going to remember him again. He didn't even exist to siyeol anymore.

But he was her curse, maybe it was better this way.

Seonghwa : nothing happened between us. We're…nothing.

Those words felt like a thousand needles stabbing him. But he didn't care, not if siyeol would get better for it. Siyeol nodded, stepping forward. But as soon as she did, seonghwa stepped back, his hands clenched behind his back.

She pretended not to see it.

Siyeol : well then, let's be friends from now, seonghwa.

Seonghwa's eyes widened, not having expected her to say that.

Seonghwa : wh-what?

Siyeol : do you not wanna be my friend? I wish to be your friend, though. Because with the memory I do have right now, I remember you as the handsome charismatic boy who always scored top marks and was envied on by everyone in college. Have you changed much?

Seonghwa held his tears from falling down, not being able to form the right words. Siyeol sighed, shaking her head as she asked

Siyeol : what do you work as now?

Seonghwa lowered his eyes to the floor, saying in a low voice

Seonghwa : senior bio-medical engineer. I…own a bio-medical company.

Siyeol : wow, that's really cool then. I have no idea what job I would've gotten myself-

Seonghwa : data scientist.

Siyeol : what?

Seonghwa : you're a data scientist.

Siyeol : o-oh. Oh, okay. That's…fine enough I suppose.

Seonghwa nodded, stepping back as he said

Seonghwa : I must leave now.

Seonghwa was about to turn around when he felt siyeol holding his arm, looking up at him. Her touch burned through him as it always did, except this time it was painful.

Seonghwa : siyeol-

Siyeol : let me be your friend.

Seonghwa stared at siyeol, his heart thumping against his chest. This was happening all over again.

Seonghwa : you…you can't.

Siyeol : I can and I want to. I've lost 10 years of my memory, seonghwa, and I want you to guide me through this new world until I'm familiar with it once again. Can't you do that for me?

Seonghwa : I'm not the right person for this.

Siyeol : yes you are. Since you and I are only just classmates even now, I want you to do this for me. Please?

Seonghwa stared at the same eyes he had always adored, the same eyes that belonged to the one person he could do anything for.

Seonghwa : o-okay.

____________________

Seonghwa stood outside siyeol's house, thinking the same thing over and over again, bad idea. Once siyeol was ready to be discharged from the hospital sihyun had asked…ordered, seonghwa to bring all of siyeol's things back into her old house where she used to live with sihyun back in college. Except now sihyun lived a few blocks away from siyeol's house since he was now a busy doctor, so siyeol lived alone.

Which was also why she had asked seonghwa to come by her house today, to take her out in order to see the newly made building and sites that had happened between 2013 and 2023, which was quite a lot. But he figured he could start today and take his time with showing her.

Seonghwa was about to step forward and ring the doorbell when he felt someone push him away from the door with a glare. Oh no.

Sihyun : what the fuck are you doing here?

Seonghwa : I…siyeol-

Sihyun : don't you dare utter her name after what you did to her, you bastard. You destroyed her.

Seonghwa bit his lips, looking away to the floor. He was supposed to not cry today.

Sihyun : did you forget that, seonghwa? Did you forget you're not supposed to so much as even talk to my noona anymore? Am I supposed to keep fucking remind you?

Siyeol : hyun-ah.

Sihyun paused, looking forward as his eyes landed on siyeol who was standing a few meters away from them with confused eyes. She never understood why her younger brother was so against seonghwa.

Siyeol : let go of seonghwa.

Sihyun : noona-

Siyeol : I asked him to show me around, that's why he's here, sihyun. So let him go.

Sihyun let seonghwa go harshly as he said

Sihyun : I could've done that for you.

Siyeol : except you have work.

Sihyun : so does he!

Siyeol : he does not. He gets a holiday on Sundays. While you're a doctor, so leave us and take care of your patients instead, brother.

Sihyun looked between seonghwa and siyeol, feeling the need to stop them. This cannot happen again, because why the hell was siyeol still being with seonghwa despite getting all her memories with him wiped away. Why did she keep choosing someone like him when there were so many other people.

But it wasn't like she was going to listen to him, was it? She never would.

Sihyun : do whatever you want then, noona. But if something happens to you once again, I'm going to end this man.

___________________________

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immeasurablesaladagere · 1 day

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i absolutely LOVE your house agere fics/headcannons but have yet to see any lockwood and co ones even though it is in your pinned post and would love your headcannons when you get a chance! though i know you have a lot of requests in queue so no pressure!

AHHH Lockwood and Co! Hcs are my break between longer stuff lol, so coming right up!

Littles Lucy and Lockwood for sure. George is CG (but perhaps flip? I could see it)

Both Lucy and Lockwood call George "Mum", he just goes with it. He has never, not once, been any iteration of dad or older brother.

Both Lucy and Lockwood regress to similar ranges, like 5-9.

Lucy regresses almost entirely voluntarily as a way to get her childhood back. She didn't recognize it as anything special until she moved in with Lockwood and George, all she knew was that having a stuffy or reading a children's book made her feel really calm and a bit blurry. She thought it was like nostalgia but like x10.

Lockwood's regression is pretty much always involuntary, and something he doesn't like but has learned to live with. A bad nightmare, a migraine, a flashback, a panic attack, are all things that can nudge his brain over the edge and boom, he's a kid again. One of his worst nightmares would be regressing on a job and putting his team at risk because of it. He's worked very hard to prevent it at all costs.

While he's little, Lockwood's regression is all over the place. Sometimes he's content, sometimes (rarely) he's bubbly and happy, and sometimes he's completely inconsolable. It's a roll of the dice depending on what caused the slip, but even then there's some variation.

He doesn't always remember what happened to his family, he just knows they aren't there.

I have a very vivid scene in my head on how Lucy found out that Lockwood regresses, and it goes like this: It's Lockwood and George's routine that if Lockwood is feeling small late at night (the kid never sleeps anyway), he can come find George and he'll read him a bedtime story. Lockwood's feeling small not long after Lucy's moved in, so he sneaks very quietly downstairs to the library and asks George to read to him. Lucy, in search of water or something, sees that someone's still up and goes to chat, and walks in on Lockwood basically cuddled on top of George while he's reading to him, and Lockwood freezes for a second, then gets up and basically sprints to his room and locks himself in there. George half-explains, but says it would be better if Lockwood had the choice to tell her.

The discovery of Lucy's was far less dramatic. Lockwood eventually explained everything to her and she was just like "Oh, so that's what that is... Me too then, I guess".

Soft and squishy little!Lockwood, energetic and happy little!Lucy.

Tired mother George.

They play ghost-hunters with their toys sometimes, and the heroes always win very, very easily. Nothing ever goes wrong, and George kinda has an idea as to why that is, so he's never mentioned it.

If Lucy and Lockwood are both regressed together, Lockwood tends to drift younger than Lucy is no matter where they started. If they were both feeling 8, a few hours later Lockwood might be down to 5 or 6.

Lucy loves fruit, dude. It's her favourite thing. George will offer her a biscuit and she's like "But I want an apple :("

#sfw age regression #sfw agere #agere blog #age regression #fandom agere #agere headcanons #lockwood and co #Lockwood and co agere #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim

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bellysoupset · 5 months

Note

enjoy the break but know you are missed! If you feel like answering a short ask about your OCs, would you talk about sleeping habits? Given that mine are crap, lol. Who sleeps deeply, who doesn’t? Who functions okay on little sleep and who is a mess when tired? And what are their favorite sleep places/positions?

As always, thank you!

Lis, I'm not on break!! 😭

I'm gonna be a little less around, because I'm in the middle of two huge irl things happening, but I'm definitely not on hiatus! (but thank you anyway 💛)

Sleeping habits! Mine are also crap, we're on the same boat. I'm a "sleeps 3-4 hrs a night and is fine" type of person and one day this will kill me.

Jonah: Gets cranky and (even more) quiet when he's sleepy. People don't really notice this change, but both Leo and Wendy know it. Needs six hours to work properly, but will happily take 8-9 hours if he's able. Normal sleep, not light sleep, nor super heavy. Mild noises, like JD, won't wake him up, but Leo speaking/coughing definitely will. Barely snores, but sometimes he talks when sleeping.

Leo: Gets SUPER cranky when he's sleepy and its highly noticeable. He's a heavy sleeper, so once he falls asleep its a chore to wake him up. He has 20 alarms. Needs at least 8 hours of sleep and whenever he's forced to run on less than that he's extra annoyed about everything. Only place he won't fall asleep is work (too aware), but at home? Around their friends? He'll fall asleep on anything and anyone. JD could climb all over him and he wouldn't even stir. He snores lightly, but not much.

Bella: Bell gets cranky for any reason, lmao. Hungry? Cranky. Sleepy? Cranky. It's not a lot, but it definitely makes her whiny. Lucky everyone else, she'll sleep anywhere. Standing, on a chair, someone's couch, on Luke's back if he's carrying her, in any position. She's notorious for hogging blankets. Needs 6 hours of sleep, no more, no less. Will throw an alarm across the room if it's pestering her. She's got normal sleep like Jon, not too heavy, not too light.

Wendy: Wendy never looks sleepy. She's gonna be hyper chatting and then simply turn off, like someone manually disabled her. Needs around 5 hours of sleep, but those 5 hours are super heavy sleep. The world could end and she wouldn't even stir.

Luke: He gets clingy for any reason and sleep is no different. Loves to cuddle. Needs his 8 hours of sleep, but doesn't tend to get cranky, just more sensitive? It's easier to hurt his feelings if he's tired. A heavy sleeper, normally Bell spends her late nights talking with her DnD party and online friends and he'll sleep right through it. Hair pets will put this man to sleep in 1 minute flat. Snores, but not loudly. Very much the type to take up the whole bed.

Vince: Suuuper light sleeper, he'll wake up over any reason. He needs his 8 hours of sleep, but he doesn't get cranky, he gets headachy and just Feeling Bad if he's running low on sleep. Back during exams season he'd push himself to study and just look very pale and drained. Vince doesn't need an alarm clock to wake up.

Max: Heavy sleeper, but doesn't sleep much. 3-4 hours a night, but those are dead hours, nothing can wake him up. Tends to stir and kick, even mumble on his sleep. If he doesn't get those 3-4 hours he gets furious. If you wake him up mid sleep you better have a damn good reason.

#myocs #thank you for the ask lis!!#i'm lurking i've already fallen behind on so much reading lol #btw of my ocs: luke/wendy/vince all wake up super hyper and happy #bella/jonah/leo and max wake up slow and don't want people chatting their ear off

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kitthepurplepotato · 1 year

Text

Shenanigans Part 8

Alternative Universe Part 3/3

New to the story? Start with Chapter 1!

Part 6-7-8 can be read without knowing the whole story, if you want to give it a go, click here!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Part 8: The Menace and the case of the pajama party in the alternative universe. ( + extra Tododeku!)

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Warnings: swear words, drunk people (everyone is 25+ and responsible), drunk crying

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki might not have feelings when he’s sober, but he’s really weak to wine and champagne - with that said, get ready to an overly sensitive, fluffy Bakugou from the alternative universe.

Meanwhile, in the real world, the grumpy Bakugou Katsuki suffers - he can’t seem to understand his confusing feelings towards his biggest “enemy”.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Meanwhile in the real world…

“Go to sleep, Kacchan.”

Honestly, the fuck is the nerd’s problem? Katsuki is on the couch. His eyes are closed. What the fuck else can he do?

“I would like to sleep, but your stupid fucking freckled face is distracting even with my eyes closed.” Katsuki snaps, his movements aggressive as he slaps his duvet around a bit for greater comfort.

Why is he on a random ass couch instead of his bedroom?

Because those two fuckers didn’t let him go home alone. Not even the mention of his poor starving pigeons made them change their mind. Sadistic assholes.

“Izuku’s freckled face has nothing to do with you hyperventilating on the couch.” Todoroki sighs. “She’s fine, Bakugou. She’s probably having a pajama party with a less mental version of you right now.”

Was that supposed to make him calm? And anyway… “Why the fuck are you here, Candy Cane?”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t strangle Izuku in his sleep.” Comes the easy answer, and to be fair, he might do that if he gets sleep deprived enough.

“Go and share a bed with him him, just in case.” He grumbles back and closes his eyes again, hoping to have least 3 hours of sleep tonight, just to have some energy to scream Y/N’s face off properly when she dares to come back. That’s all.

“Good idea, thank you!” Perks up the half and half idiot, making Izuku squeak like a 10 year old virgin. Fucking idiot.

“I wish to sleep a-alone, thank you v-very much.” He stutters and leaves the living room; Todoroki goes after him like a kicked puppy who does not understand their owner’s anger, even tho they just shat on their carpet 5 minutes ago.

After a few minutes of loud commotion in Deku’s bedroom - the nerd is probably telling that dick off for not understanding human communication again - the flat falls silent; but Bakugou’s thoughts are still too loud to be able to sleep.

“Fuck this shit.” He grumbles and takes his phone out to type out a message.

The fact, that the message was sent at 3:30 AM does not matter. He’s just not tired yet.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

The pajama party is more like an interrogation on crack. You are attacked with questions from every side, barely able to answer them all, but all your anxiety flew away the moment Todoroki popped open his secret drink fridge filled with all the fancy alcohol he stole from his idiot father’s old liquor cabinet. “Well, it’s his fault he left them in my mom’s house. He’s not gonna come back for it.” He said nonchalantly, when seeing your massive saucer eyes when he popped open a super expensive champagne that costs more than your monthly wage.

You tell the guys about the world of quirks; you try to keep it simple and not too revealing, but Deku is about to pop a vein as his question wasn’t answered before, so you have to do something before the guy gets brain damaged.

They tell you all their funny stories from America, about their dreams and plans for the future; they are so pure and so lively, they make your heart melt. You also try your best to tell them about their current life in your world; you can’t really tell them much about Deku and Todoroki but the more you drink, the more you ramble about your annoying boss, about how much you hate his guts, about his daily assholery; by the end of the day you end up with your head on the dumbstruck blonde’s shoulder next to you.

By 3 AM, Deku and Todoroki are passed out on the massive bed in the funniest position ever; they literally fell asleep on top of each other, their bodies making a cross sign on the bed. Deku’s body is spread through Todoroki’s lap like a cat, his head hanging down from the side of the bed. It definitely doesn’t look comfortable, but they look content so you decide against waking them up.

The blonde next to you is also half asleep, but he looks kinda melancholic. To be fair, he did stop responding to your ramblings after a while, but you were too drunk to care.

“I’m sorry for talking shit about your other self.” You apologize as you make your way to the makeshift bed on the floor. “He’s really not that bad. He can be really caring, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” He snaps, then suddenly, he’s really interested in his own bedding by the way he stares at it. You swear his eyes look a little bit wet, but you might be hallucinating. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

He’s crying. Motherfucking murder whatever god Dynamight is fucking crying.

You definitely drank way too much. This can’t be real. “I’m frustrated, goddamit!” He cries out loudly, waking the other two up with his sudden hysterics. “There is this beautiful, intelligent, caring lady in that fucker’s life who tolerates him even though he doesn’t deserve it at all and he’s being an absolute ass about it.” He continues, silent tears falling on his red cheeks. “He has everything I always wanted yet he doesn’t give a shit about it, and that frustrates me.” He ends his rant while he covers himself with his duvet aggressively. You are not sure if you want to cry over the touching words or laugh at how adorable he is so you just end up staring at him from the other side of room where your bedding is.

“He’s a sensitive drunk, bless his little heart.” Mumbles the greenette and taps Bakugou’s head with his hanging hand. He passes out again right after.

“If I would be in his place…” he mumbles, still hidden under his duvet. “Actually… I will go to your fucking country and I won’t leave until I found you. I will make sure you are the happiest fucking woman in this world, I’ll force you to come with me to Japan if I need to. That’s what I’m gonna do. Yeah.”

The room falls silent. You are definitely crying now. Who is this man and how is he related to Bakugou Katsuki? You really want to get married to this random stranger in a random creepy chapel in the middle of the night.

“I’ll give you all my possible addresses then.” You murmur into your pillow with a smile on your face; it’s really silly to be jealous of your own self, but you can’t help it. You are really sad you won’t be able to see these people again; this weird trio made their way into your heart in less than 24 hours and to be absolutely honest with yourself, you really don’t want to go back to the real world.

You slowly drift off to slumberland in this safe and peaceful room, dreaming about a better world and a better life.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Meanwhile in the real world…

Mr. Katsuki did NOT sleep last night.

Why, you ask?

Because sleep is for the weak.

No, it has nothing to do with the fact that his secretary is in another world, sad and lonely, probably frightened to death in the middle of night, sleeping on the street somewhere, freezing and hungry.

Mr. Katsuki does NOT care about the Menace.

He’s also not tired.

The bags under his eyes? They are Gucci. It’s a fashion choice. They make him look rough and manly, as Kirishima would say. They also help shutting up the extras, as they are too terrified to talk to him.

Everything is fine.

“Katsuki.” The half and half fuckface sighs. The fuck is his problem?! He haven’t said a single word. He’s calm and collected. “You’ve been staring at the concrete for 2 hours now. We still have a few more minutes.”

“I’m just making sure no one steps on the spot.” Mr. Katsuki answers, looking all professional. This is just another job on the field. No biggie. He’s just doing a good job.

“Kacchan, you made sure no one steps on that spot 2 hours ago.” Deku opens his mouth and Mr.Katsuki does not understand the problem here. Yes, he drew a big circle around the area saying “If you step here, you die.” But there might be someone around who’s visibly impaired, or just dumb in general. Or a foreigner who does not understand the world DIE! DIE! DIE! Written all over the area. Maybe, the message is not clear. You never know.

“Fuck off and let me do my job!” Mr. Katsuki snaps, his eyes still focused on the concrete in front him. He could probably remember every single crack on this concrete piece by now even without looking at it.

A few minutes later, something suddenly falls from the sky; Mr. Katsuki is too focused on the concrete to see it coming, hence why, the Menace arrives with a big thump.

Mr. Katsuki almost throws up from the way his heart suddenly drops for a second… wait, no. The only reason Mr. Katsuki feels sick is the smell of alcohol coming from the ground.

“I will never drink again.” Mumbles the idiot while rubbing her stupid forehead. And Mr. Katsuki looses his shit.

“You fucking asshole!” He screams, making the hungover Menace flinch. “I thought you fucking died!” He screams even louder. “Yet here you are, fucking hungover, while I couldn’t fucking sleep because of you!”

Y/N’s phone suddenly beeps, so she takes a look at it, giving Katsuki a questioning glance.

“By the message you sent me at 3:30 AM, you slept really well last night?” She dares to say, and also, she dares to continue. “Oh, and your other self is so much nicer than you are. Quite a bummer, really. I kinda wanted to date the guy.”

Mr. Katsuki does not get flustered. The only reason his face is red as a tomato is the hot weather. It has nothing to do with the indication of Y/N willing to date him. It’s not him anyway, technically. Plus, he would never date this terrible, smelly woman. Never. He has no intentions of waking up next to this menace everyday, moan about the stupid pigeons while trying to untangle their limbs from each other, he definitely has no intentions of making breakfast every morning to make sure the Menace actually eats proper food and not just rice with fucking broccoli - just because the food is plain, doesn’t mean it’s nutritious.

… wait.

You are misunderstanding. He definitely DID NOT think about this before. His self-deprived brain is just a bit to imaginative, that’s all.

Let’s take a deep breath and step back for a bit. Let’s think about this situation.

The Menace is clearly hungover if not fucking drunk, still.

The Menace just confessed that she met his other self.

That means…

“You got drunk with me in an alternative universe?!” Mr. Katsuki snaps again, glaring at the floor incredulously.

“No, I got drunk with you, Deku and Todoroki. Also, you are really sensitive and super cuddly when you drink. It’s adorable.” The menace GIGGLES, hiding her stupid face behind her stupid hands, looking like a lovesick teenager.

Cuddly?!

Adorable?!

“You did not fucking cuddle me. You did not!”

Dynamight can not take this shit anymore. He explodes. Literally. For the next few minutes, all you can hear is swear words and death threats coming from the hero, his palm making explosions from left to right.

(…And you didn’t even mention the cute selfie you have on your phone with the three of them yet; you can only hope the picture is still available in this world, because fuck if you you won’t frame that shit and put it on your living room shelf.)

“It’s Shouto’s fault! His father has a liquor cabinet!” She tries to save herself self while throwing the other one under the bus. Todoroki doesn’t get offended, just stays silent for a while and nods.

“My father indeed had a liquor cabinet, but I never opened it before. Does it have good stuff in it?” He asks innocently, but his gaze is nothing but mischievous.

“Shou…” Midoriya facepalms, but says nothing else. He’s just done.

“The best stuff, mate. Mind sharing in the future?” Y/N winks, and for the first time in Shouto’s life, he grins at a “stranger”.

Mr. Katsuki doesn’t comment, he just explodes again.

Literally.

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Extra:

(not a part of the main story, feel free to skip if it’s not your cup of tea)

Warnings: Closeted gays, Tododeku, talking about sex (only vaguely)

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“You wanted to see us, Y/N?”

Yes, you wanted to see these two. Why? Because you are a fucking fujoshi. That’s why.

“Shouto, Deku. Please, sit down.” You point at the sofa, making the two bulky heroes shuffle awkwardly. “Today, we will talk about love, romance and sexual attraction.”

As you finish your sentence, the two heroes get extremely uncomfortable, shuffling a bit more to stay as far away from each other as they can. They literally behave like two teenagers who just got caught making out. It’s actually quite hilarious.

“I’m… not sure why is this important, miss Y/N, b-but to be honest, I ne-never had the time to think about my… preferences? I’m married to my job, I guess?” Stutters the green haired hero, awkwardly ruffling his own curls to keep himself grounded. Adorable.

“I am more than content with my current life. I do not need romance to be happy and satisfied.” Deadpans the half and half hero, and that’s actually what you wanted to hear; because now, you can ask your question without beating around the bush too much.

“Does Deku has something to do with your current satisfaction?”

If he dares to answer with a lie…

“Yes.” He deadpans again, making the greenette next to him blush like a high schooler.

“Deku?”

“I… I don’t think there is anyone who would be able to understand my work on the long run, as I barely have a day off, and I also couldn’t find anyone who would tolerate my rambling for long enough to like me that way.” He sighs, trying his best to not make an eye contact with anyone in the office.

“I like your ramblings.” Shouto steps in, not really understanding the problem here. This guy really can’t read the room. “I also work with you, so I understand your line of work perfectly.”

“Shouto, we are talking about love and romance.” Deku whines, clearly done with his best friend’s bluntness. “You wouldn’t have sex with me, would you?”

“I never thought about this option before.” Todoroki touches his non-existent beard, clearly deep in thought. “Is it allowed to romance your best friend?”

“Shou!!” Deku takes one of the pillows from the sofa and hides his face in it; his body lit up as OFA intensely crackles around his muscles from the embarrassment.

“You can date your best friend, yes. Now leave. And talk about it. My work here is done.”

As the two heroes leave the office, you look at the blonde hiding behind his massive desk next to you; the two were too busy to realize he’s here, and you decided not to make a comment about it either. It was more fun this way.

“They will fuck tonight.” He says while looking at you with a mischievous smirk on his amused face.

“They probably won’t, but they will get together, for sure.” You smirk back, your hand in the air, waiting for a high five, which never comes.

“You have a long way before you can get a high five from me, you fucking drunkard.”

Oh, well.

At least you officially made two couples since you started in this office.

That’s enough of an achievement for the day.

“I really want to drink with you again, Mr. Dynamight.” You sigh into the distance, mumbling to yourself.

“You wish!” The blonde snaps, his blushing face hidden behind his hands as he looks away; as Mr. Dynamight said, you are a long way from getting drinking privileges with the hero, but never say never; If that adorable blush is anything to go by, you are not that far away from it as Bakugou thinks.

… next chapter!

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The alternative universe story ENDS HERE, the main story will be continued!

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End note: We are slowly getting into the romance territory here! I actually came up with quite a few ideas in the last few days! Don’t worry, it’s still going to be funny. If you think these two can do anything in a non-comedic way, you read this story the wrong way, mate.

Also thank you for those who only read the last 3 chapters; I hope you enjoyed them! Feel free to stay around for the rest of the story! The taglist is still open for everyone! 💥

If there is anything you want to see in this story, feel free to message me with your ideas! 💜

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Taglist: @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai @nonomesupposedto @sozainturpal @luleck @notplutos

#bakugo katsuki x reader #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #shenanigansbypurplepotato #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x you #bakugou x self insert

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