#but sometimes I get a bit anxious like ''Did I do a good enough job translating this''

[royalarchivist]

[A sad violin song plays over an image of a sad hamster]

Pac: This doesn't have anything to do with me – I wear a blue sweatshirt, you're crazy, this mouse doesn't even have a sweatshirt, this hamster! [Reading chat] Am I a depressed hamster?

[ Transcript continued ↓ ]*

–

Pac: Actually– that's fine! I embrace that idea – of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy? [He hits his desk, then starts counting off people on his fingers] Fit is gone, Richarlyson is gone, Ramon is gone, Bagi and Empanada who were always there when we were there are also gone, I haven't seen them! It's just me and Tubbo, and sometimes Philza shows up.

Pac: I lost Chume Labs, I lost the Favela, I lost Murder Mystery, I lost Ilha Chume Labs, it's crazy! Look at how much I've lost, and I've gained nothing! Of course I'm going to be depressed, are you crazy?! How am I supposed to be happy?!

Pac: [Reading chat] "You have us Pac," that's true, thank you. No, that's true, sorry.

* NOTE: Please note that this is an incomplete transcript, as I was primarily relying on Aypierre's translation mod at the time and if I am not confident of the translation, I do not include it. As always, please feel free to add on translations or message me corrections.

[be-good-to-bugs]

i need to go to bed but i dont wannnaaaaa

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel deals with upsetting his overly sensitive eight month pregnant wife.]

Fluff

“Baby girl, open the door” you could hear the defeat in his voice but you didn’t respond. Joel knew he fucked up and he knew he had to fix it fast.

It was 3:30 in the afternoon, Joel should’ve been here by now. Here you sat in the waiting room looking at the clock every other minute, even waiting for a ring from your cell. It was your eight month sonogram appointment. Yes, Joel had been present for each and every sonogram but this was your last one and you wanted him there. Maybe it was your hormones but you could feel the heat in your cheeks as each minute went by and not even a call from Joel. This wasn’t like him yet it still set you off. When the doctor finally called you, you could feel tears forming in your eyes knowing Joel wouldn’t make it in time.

“Maybe he got caught up today, sometimes our job can get hectic, I’m sure he ain’t mean to miss it” Tommy spoke as he drove you home. He was nice enough to pick you up when you called him in tears that Joel wasn’t there. Sarah sat silently in the back, she knew how much this meant to you, she also knew her father didn’t do this selfishly.

Not saying a word you walked straight to the room closing the door shut. Tommy and Sarah giving you your space as you waited for Joel to show up.

A half hour later Joel rushed in through the front door throwing his bag aside.

“Where is she?” He looked around as Sarah pointed at the bedroom. Tommy and her both raising their brows not knowing what to expect.

You heard the front the door close, you knew Joel must’ve been home. The second the handle of your door turned you pushed yourself up as fast you could and rushed to the bathroom. Joel walked in, attempting to stop you from closing the door, reaching you a second too late, you slammed it in his face without saying a word. Locking the door shut you turned your back to it.

“Baby girl, open the door” you could hear the defeat in his voice but you didn’t respond. Joel knew he fucked up and he knew he had to fix it fast.

“I tried to get out of work as fast as I could, honey, I swear. These assholes delayed me then my phone was dead. I was in the other side of town, I came out rushing as fast I could” he explained.

Still no response.

Upsetting a pregnant woman was the last thing Joel wanted to do, upsetting his pregnant woman was something he could not ever have. You were under a lot of stress, anxious about giving birth, your sensitivity at an all time high Joel did his best to keep you calm but clearly failed at it today.

“Honey, please…ya know it ain’t good for you and the baby to get upset like this,” you rolled your eyes wiping away a tear.

“Fuck” Joel mouthed silently rubbing his forehead. He knew how important this was for you, he knew how much you wanted him there.

“Open the door, baby” Desperation in his voice when you suddenly opened up. His dark brown eyes widening with guilt noticing how puffy your eyes were, knowing you had been crying.

“Aw Jesus, baby” he whispered.

“You know today was the last sonogram-“

“I know” he whispered with sincere understanding eyes. His voice was gentle as he took a small step forward.

“I wanted you there, I..I wanted you to see him-“

“I know, baby”

“Did today even matter to you?!” You yelled as you felt yourself about to cry all over again and he could see it.

God damn those hormones.

“Of course it did” he took a step closer to you.

“How could you even ask such a thing?” You began to sob covering your eyes, his voice coming out more aggressive than he meant to.

“Shit, baby I’m sorry” he took another step closer slowly pulling you towards him. You took a deep breath wiping your tears.

“I…I don’t even know why I’m so upset” you looked down feeling a bit embarrassed. A soft chuckle escaping his lips as he held you, gently he kissed your forehead.

“That baby boy of ours is doing a number on you, honey” Joel whispered as a million things ran through your head.

“What if…what if you don’t make it on time to his birth? I can’t do this alone, Joel-“ you began to panic.

“What if-“

“Look at me” he gently tilted your face up at him.

“Ain’t no one or anything stopping me from seeing my son be born, ya hear me?”

You nodded in silence as you looked away.

“It was such a frustrating day, not to mention that damn man at the pharmacy got my vitamins wrong again” you walked around him towards the bedroom.

“Not again, ya need me to go over there and say somethin’ to him?” You could hear the playfulness in his voice.

“Joel” you turned to him rolling your eyes placing your hands on your lower back for support. He attempted to hold back a smile, the sight of you eight months pregnant with an attitude was something else.

“Are you laughing at me?” You asked as he quickly turned serious and shook his head.

“No mam” he took a step towards you as you tilted your head looking up at him.

Joel was forever teasing you.

“Ya know, after how upset you had me today, I highly suggest-“ Joel reached in his jacket unexpectedly pulling out your favorite pack of chocolate cookies you hadn’t found anywhere near by in weeks. You gasped with excitement making a big grin appear on his face.

“Where did you find them?!” You grabbed the pack out of his hand excitedly ripping the wrapper apart. Joel watched as you eagerly took a bite, closing your eyes, sighing with pleasure. It had been weeks that you were craving them, Joel had gone around every neighborhood searching for them, it was the only good thing that came out of working on the other side of town.

“Oh…Joel you’re the best” you continued to devour the cookies making him laugh.

“Oh I’m off the hook now huh?”

“Mmmmhm” you rolled your eyes back enjoying the taste.

“Anything for you mama” he whispered leaning in with a kiss as you sat back on the bed enjoying your snack.

[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | shinsou

Shinsou’s route of soulmate trope.

this one is for the touch-starved girlies who are scared of intimacy and scared of people leaving warnings: female reader has a very specific view of sex and intimacy: that someone sleeping with her and then leaving her would fucking ruin her psyche forever. so she's a big-ass, kissless virgin for nasty evil plot reasons. sexual intimacy and abandonment/commitment are major themes. pseudo-sex work, with shinsou's hobby/side-job. shinsou and reader toss around the term bitch as a playful insult. this version of reader is fairly insecure and anxious about being loved and lovable—but so is shinsou.

~29k

Kirishima had his tongue in Mina’s mouth.

Well, more accurately, sometimes it was in her mouth. He was visibly licking at her lips and around her mouth fairly often, letting saliva drool down both of their faces—Mina’s shirt had a damp spot near the neck. Their kissing skills seemed sloppy at best and fucking disgusting at average, making loud squelches, splorches, and suction noises, overall sounding very wet and a bit like walking through ankle-deep, thick mud in rubber rainboots. Their moans, too, didn’t sound very sensual—more like there’s someone in the next room sampling someone haunted museum sound effects with some overlapping Yoko Ono texture.

Kirishima’s hands cupped Mina’s boobs, his fingers stiff and just, like, holding them. Not playing with her nipples through her shirt, or anything, but the way he occasionally squeezed them must have felt good, since Mina moaned more loudly when he did so. He’d moan the loudest when she pulled at his hair, knocking the back of his head against the refrigerator door.

You ducked back around the kitchen corner, grimacing as you sank to the floor to clutch your knees to your chest. This wasn’t the first time they were blocking the fridge, but you’d learnt there was nothing to do but kill time until they finished. Stealing some of Aoyama’s posh bubble-pop ice cream would have to wait.

***

“No, thank you,” you said to Monoma over your shoulder, pushing open the main door to Class A’s dorm, “You taught me stuff about my quirk today. I really value your fresh eyes on my old shit. Next time we train together, I’d like—Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yaoyorozu and Jirou were dry humping on the commons couch, with Yaoyorozu in Jirou’s lap with her hands in Jirou’s hair, tilting her head back enough to lick up her neck, right over the spot where her half of the soulmate tattoo lay.

Grimacing (you heard it in his voice and by his sucking in through his teeth; you’d covered your eyes and shied away), Monoma stooped to pick up Yaoyorozu’s shirt to slingshot it back towards them. “Get a room.”

***

All you’d wanted was to find the closet where they keep the lightbulbs.

Instead, you opened the door on Midoriya kneeling, Uraraka’s leg over his shoulder, audibly slurping, while she, skirt hiked up around her waist, ground against his face.

You shut the door again. Your dorm could stand being dark for a few more hours.

***

“I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to peel off my skin. No, actually, I’m going to eject my skellington from my body so that I can just be a lump of organs and skin. And then I can rest on the carpet in a pile,” you said, frowning into your ice cream, cheek propped on your fist, “Why can’t they all, like, give some sort of warning?”

“Not everyone carries a sock to put over every doorknob,” said a grinning Shinsou from across the table, licking around the side of his mint chocolate chip cone, “And c’mon, the U.A. dorm rooms are not sexy, and the walls are thin.”

Some sprinkles fell off of your ice cream when you gestured loosely. “Don’t I know it. I share a wall with Hagakure, and she and Ojiro are fucking constantly. He makes her get off on his tail a lot—I guess kind of like thigh riding?”

“You can’t do anything about it when they’re fucking in the privacy of their own dorms.” Shinsou bit directly into his ice cream and chewed, like a maniac.

“And apparently, she really like when he tickles her clit with the tip of his tail? I am burdened with knowledge,” you said, sighing, and you ate a mournful spoonful.

Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Does it lessen your opinion of them?”

“No. I’m glad they’re happy,” you said, “I’ve listened to their yearning over the years, so I know it’s such a relief for them for this quirk intervention to get feelings out, along with the assurance of permanent romance and stability. Hashtag get some, I guess. I’m just—the influx of soulmates and their PDA is highly inconvenient for navigating my everyday life.”

“You sound like you’ve put thought into it.” Shinsou smirked, tongue flattening as he licked over the top of his scoop (and turning slightly green). “Just inconvenient?”

You shot him a look and fished around in your paper cup for more sprinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you sure you’re not jealous?” asked Shinsou, the shop’s A/C kicking in and blowing through his hair—he pursed his lips and scooted his metal chair out of the way of the vent. “Since, y’know, you don’t appear to have a soulmate. You ready to tell me yet? Why’re you so nervous?”

Yikes. You’d been avoiding that.

“Are you not marked physically? Or do you have one on your boobs—”

You sighed overdramatically and sank down in your chair until your ass practically hung off of it. “I have a soulmark, and it’s not in an embarrassing place. Relatively normal, actually. It’s on my back, so it took me a while to notice it.”

Shinsou bit into the cone and crunched loudly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“You’re not seeing it. No one’s ever gonna see it.”

“No one? You’re confident. You think your soulmate won’t ever want to take you from behind?” His tongue flicked out to swipe at a melted drop on his lips.

“Oh, my God.” You buried your face in your hands. “God, the thought of someone I don’t even know having sex with me—I don’t wanna think about it. But that’s not what I meant. I was being facetious; I meant that my words are pretty embarrassing.”

Shinsou slumped down in his seat at that, but nowhere near as far as you. “Oh? First words?”

“I assume. It’s a sentence, anyway.” You sat up, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream. “I—I’ll tell you, since I don’t want anyone—seeing me, and I know you’ll bug me about it, but it’s—”

“Just spit it out. Rip off the bandage.”

Cringing, you held up your hands in defence. “Don’t kill me, but I also don’t remember who said them to me?”

“Oh, you’re joking,” said Shinsou, his face lighting the fuck up, “That’s fucking hilarious, if it’s true. And how do you know they’ve already been said to you? How do you know they aren’t still to come?”

“I don’t know. I just…feel it in my heart of hearts that I have already heard these words, but I can’t for the life of me remember who said them,” you said, and you bent to riffle through your bag for your phone, “I keep a list of everyone who’s not paired off in my notes app, and I’m trying to remember the situations in which I first met them—”

“You’re stalling,” said Shinsou, grinning as he popped the last of the cone into his mouth, “Tell me what it says.”

Wincing, you set your bag aside. “Don’t make fun of me,” you said, biting your lip and scrunching your eyes shut, “but, uh. It reads, Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.” At his silence, you cracked an eye open.

Shinsou’s eyes had glazed over, but he shook himself and spoke. “Don’t know why you’re embarrassed. That’s fucking hot.” He grabbed your used napkins to toss them in the garbage. “Think it’s an enemies-to-lovers type relationship? Just kidding,” he said at your pained expression, “But I see what you mean about those already being said to you. Weren’t you seen as sort of a cold, uptight bitch when we first started attending U.A.?”

“An easy misinterpretation,” you said, scraping at the bottom of your cup, “People thought my being shy and not talking to people was being a bitch, but I was just nervous that I was around so many people my age who seemed so much more in tune with their quirks that I was.”

“So, that gives you a time frame for when you met your soulmate. And,” he said, holding up a finger, “that lets you know that you met your soulmate in a group with other people, unless they speak in the royal we for some reason. It also sounds like you were late to a scheduled event. You remember doing anything like that freshman year?”

“Look, all I remember about the first three months of freshman year is being overwhelmed by how cool everyone was. That time is a blur to me, and before now, I’ve been grateful for that. Aizawa-sensei really put us through the wringer. I was meeting literally everyone I currently hang out with during that time, though, so that’s not helpful.” You gave your empty container to Shinsou when he held out his hand, and he threw it away for you. “How’s your search going? You gonna share your details?”

“I’ve got a name,” he said, cool as you please, chair clanking as he sat back down, “but I’m not sharing. It’s not yours, if you’re concerned.” His nose scrunched as he grinned, poking your arm. “It’s someone out of reach, and I’ve come to terms with that. I’m doing pretty well on my own. You ready to leave?”

Nodding, you slung your bag over your arm. “I envy you. You’re brave. Me—I’m dreading the thought of the pain we’ll feel if we don’t find our soulmates. Shouldn’t we be feeling it already?”

Shinsou held the shop door open for you. “It hasn’t been that long, and when it happens, I’ll manage. I’ll be more worried about you, you crybaby.”

“If it gets too excruciating, I’ll just have you brainwash me to not feel it, right?” you stuck out your tongue, walking backwards as he caught up to you.

His countenance darkened. “Stop that. You know I’m never gonna use my quirk on you. I don’t wanna do that to you.”

“But Hitoshi,” you said, dragging out the last syllable, “Imagine how productive I could be if you made me study, or how fucking relaxed I could be for once, if you told me to; my brain could be fucking calm for once—”

“Never. And that’s final,” said Shinsou, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he jogged to your side, “You keep trying to convince me, and y’know, the definition of insanity is—”

“Fudge off, you fuck,” you said, smiling, “I guess I can keep trying to empty my brain on my own. Gosh, it must be nice to be able to not freak out and overanalyse things constantly, and you’d think you’d want someone willing to train your quirk on. I mean, I’m here, and I want it.”

“Keep dreaming,” said Shinsou, gently shoulder-checking you, “So, got any ideas about how to get Hagakure and Ojiro to shut up?”

***

Since Midnight was working with Tainted Love at a women’s rehabilitation centre, she was able to confiscate some of Tainted Love’s team’s notes on her quirk. It had a lot to do with math and probability, but the nub and gist of what interested you was that while soulmates typically breathed in the same pink cloud, they didn’t have to.

Which brought a new factor to your soulmate search: maybe it was someone outside of U.A., someone who breathed in her quirk before she was captured.

But while you were at first reassured by more information, you were also now perpetually on edge. Though all of her victims had reported, what if someone didn’t even know they breathed it in? Plus, your request for the list of victims was still being processed and supposed to have around four thousand people on it, and you might not even get it due to privacy laws.

At least someone was finding all this funny: Shinsou laughed but listened to your frazzled thoughts, and he opened his dorm room to you whenever Hagakure’s moans became too pornographic.

***

Everybody’s fucking. Everybody.

Everywhere you went, you walked in on someone sucking face. You couldn’t drop a pen in class without noticing that someone’s getting fingered.

You bounced a tennis ball against Shinsou’s dorm room ceiling. “Why is everyone focused on the physical? Why isn’t anyone into the goddamn romance and intimacy of it all? If you’ve been fated to know and love someone for the rest of your life, living out the mundanities and revelling in the unfolding of a relationship, then why the hell is everyone focused on physical pleasure?”

Shinsou didn’t even look up from his phone. “Spoken like the world’s biggest virgin.”

“Hey!” The ball fell onto the floor. “So what. Just because I haven’t experienced that sort of thing doesn’t mean I can’t understand its value but still want something more.” You slinked your top half off his bed to grasp for the tennis ball, fingertips grazing it, not wanting to get up. “I get the appeal of sex. I get it. But I would be more interested in the intimacy of knowing someone and being known.”

Shinsou waved a dismissive hand. “I know. Zoom in on our friendship.” He locked his phone and set it on his bedside table. “But for someone who says she doesn’t want sex, you’re one touch-starved little bitch. You’re doing it to yourself, not letting anyone touch you casually. I hazard to guess you’re putting too much value on the physicality of a future relationship that might not even exist.”

Only your feet were still on the bed as you strained to catch the rolling ball. “I touch you.”

“You put your head on my shoulder. Sometimes,” he said, getting off the bed, “and you occasionally let me touch your arms for comedic effect and emphasis.” He picked up the tennis ball and took it back to the bed, and you scrambled back to get all the way on it.

“Listen, I don’t know where everyone’s been,” you said, taking the ball back after he tossed it against the ceiling himself once, “Especially now that everyone might have bodily fluids on their hands. You, I know you wash your hands. I know where you’ve been. You train with Aizawa-sensei and come back to this room. You should get a plant, or something, to keep you company. It might encourage you to raise the blinds for once.”

“Excuse you. I also spend time with a cat Kouda’s hooked up for me,” he said pointedly, “Her name’s Dango, and she loves me. You could say I’m drowning in pussy.”

“I could not say,” you said, rubbing the ball’s highlighter-yellow fuzz as you lay back in his bed, legs dangling off the edge, “Big sigh. I guess you’re right about my putting too much stock in being physical with my soulmate, instead of with someone now. I think—I don’t wanna be vulnerable in that way in front of someone who might leave? If someone saw me naked and then ghosted me, I think I’d strangle myself. Or him. There’d be someone walking around with that information on me, and he could tell anyone. I can’t have that. He’d have to die.”

“Well, you’ve already seen a bunch of our friends naked on accident—”

“Not up close. Besides, it wasn’t my goal to see them like that, and I wasn’t absorbing details. I can’t tell you who’s got moles in weird places.”

Shinsou hunched over, grinning toothily in your face. “You’re waiting to lose your virginity to your soulmate, aren’t you?”

Pouting, you flipped over to face away from him. “Shut uuuuup. I know I’m embarrassing, but I can’t talk myself out of it.”

“Wait, hey.” The bedding rustled as he got adjusted himself, getting closer to you. “If I’ve gone too far, I’m sorry. There is no fucking shame in waiting. It’s in character for you, how you’re scared about vulnerability and how you value being intimate and romantic. I can’t make fun of you for that, genuinely.” He sat next to you, back against the wall, and he nudged your shoulder. “I’m a bit lost, though. I get the part where you’re a virgin overwhelmed by the sudden sexual atmosphere at U.A., but I fail to see the problem when you’re planning to lose your virginity to your soulmate, and odds are, you’ll meet him soon.” He paused. “Or you’ve already met him.”

Glancing over your shoulder with a sour expression, you grabbed the blue-pineappled throw blanket folded at the end of his bed and hid under it.

Instead of yanking it off, Shinsou lifted the blanket’s edge to join you underneath it, his pale skin tinged with blue in the dampened light. “C’mon,” he said, leaning over you to get a look at your face (and you tugged at the blanket to cover you more), “I’ve heard you say worse. If you don’t wanna share, that’s cool, but I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going through your head.”

Shinsou tilted his head to the side and grinned his stupid crooked grin that you were not immune to: it’s one of his expressions that made you feel at ease, like you could trust this idiot man with anything. (Which you could, but you didn’t like being reminded.)

Forcing yourself, you spoke in a small voice. “What if my soulmate wants sex immediately? I’m—I’m not ready for that. I’d have to work up to it, and what if he doesn’t have the patience?”

Shinsou laughed and brought his hand up to cover his mouth when he let out a snort. “Sounds like a shitty soulmate to me, then, if he doesn’t respect your boundaries. Any man can wait it out. We’ve don’t have two hands for nothing,” he said, wiggling his fingers.

“Thanks, I guess.” You pulled the blanket off of your heads and sat up slowly. “But I worry. What if I’m too much of a sick, touch-starved weirdo who freaks out over every single touch for my soulmate to like me?”

“Your soulmate will love you.”

“But what if he gets irritated at how much I freak out or flinch at everything?”

“You’re overthinking it. He’ll adjust, and you’ll learn, if that’s what you want.” Shinsou picked up the tennis ball and threw it against the ceiling again. “If he doesn’t, then he doesn’t deserve you, and I’ll destroy him.”

“Okay,” you said, deflating. You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, but the instant your temple grazed his sweater, you shot back up, eyes bulging. “What if he wants me to give him the most egregious head when I’m not—”

“All right. Fine,” he said, brow furrowed, and he shifted on the bed to kneel in front of you, staring right into your eyes. “Let’s entertain your fucking insane thoughts. Let’s say your soulmate does want to fuck you immediately. What do you want to do now about it? Can you do anything besides worry?”

You shrank back, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know. I don’t know! I guess…somehow get…used to casual touching, but once again, 1) what if my tester person leaves, and 1a) it would be mean to ask someone to not feel things for me and touch me, and 2) I don’t want to burden anyone with—”

“Fuck.” The way he said it was crisp and full of reluctance, punctuated by the tennis ball hitting the ceiling. “Okay. I’ve kept something from you. Something pretty big. I can use it to help you.”

You blinked. “Are you saying you have a dildo to lend me? I think I have to refuse.”

“I haven’t been going on dates.” Shinsou shuffled about to lean back on his pillow, crossing his arms behind his head (huh, that Sailor Mercury t-shirt was really tight around his bicep. Has it always been?). “You’ve seen me go out to teach people how to dom.”

“What?” You caught the tennis ball when he threw it at an odd angle. “You’ve been—who’s asked you to—”

“A fair amount of people, actually.” He sucked in through his teeth. “Won’t tell you details, of course, because part of the payment and contract includes a non-disclosure agreement. But people you know have wanted to learn how to dom or just experience being dommed, and I happen to be the perfect person to ask.” He shrugged and gestured loosely. “All I’ll say is that some people—people you know and don’t—have come to me for help with stuff like shibari and dirty talk. Or how to do anything, really, because of, quotation from client, ‘being a useless lesbian,’ unquote.”

So that’s how he can afford all those video games and imported books. Sneak. “You’re telling me—”

“That I can help you get used to physical intimacy, professionally,” said Shinsou, propping one leg over the other, twirling his socked foot in the air, “However far you want to go. However you want.”

(So those jokes about perfect dom Shinsou during girls’ nights had an inkling of truth in them? You may have to throttle some of your friends.)

You hesitated. “Hitoshi, you are my best friend—”

“Therefore, we already have an established relationship based on trust and respect, and I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I value our friendship too much. I won’t screw you over. Tear out my fucking vocal cords if I ever do.” He ran his hand back through his hair, flattening it, but it fluffed back up anyway. “I’m already unbearably fond of you, so I’m not gonna be cruel about it. It just so happens that I have the resources and skills that you’re interested in, and we’re not gonna end our friendship anytime soon. I might be a good solution for your problem—though, I have to admit, I don’t really think you have one.”

“And,” you said quietly, tossing the ball back and forth between your hands, “you don’t think my soulmate would think less of me for being touched by someone else?”

Wincing, Shinsou said, “Purity culture has chewed you up and spat you out. I’m not telling you to compromise your morals and lose your virginity to someone who’s not your soulmate, but I am saying that even if you do, it’s okay, and—and I’m just not saying that because I wanna fuck you. I’m saying that it’s okay if you experiment for what you want later with other people now. It doesn’t devalue you.” He clicked his tongue. “And nobody’s dick is good enough to alter your worth fundamentally. Anyone who says otherwise can’t find the clitoris.”

You managed a laugh at that, and you crawled up to lie next to Shinsou. He flipped his onigiri-patterned pillow over so that the cool side would face up, and he scooted it over for you to rest on, too.

“Let me continue to entertain your overthinking: even in the slim chance that your soulmate is a fuckshit who thinks less of you because you’ve fooled around before,” said Shinsou, tilting his head on the pillow to face you, “that fact will hold less and less weight the more he gets to know you. You’d be so easy to fall in love with.”

Sighing, you bit your lip. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” said Shinsou, staring at the ceiling again and folding his hands on his chest, “Hell, I wish you were my soulmate. It’d make things easy, don’t you think?” He managed a quick glance towards you before returning upwards. “We already know each other so well, and you wouldn’t have to worry about being vulnerable around someone new. You’d just have me.”

“Please, Hitoshi, there’s nothing just about you. You’re so fucking lovely,” you said, imitating his position and laying your hands on your stomach, following his gaze to the lazy swing of the ceiling fan pull. “Would you—would you be grossed out by seeing me?”

“Never. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to do it.” Shinsou twiddled his thumbs and knocked his socked foot against yours. “If it makes you feel safer, I’ll do anything to help.”

“People pay you for sessions, right? How much would I pay you?”

“What?” Raising a brow, Shinsou flipped on his side to face you. “You wouldn’t. I’m offering. Other people came to me, but I’m the one approaching you. I’m not gonna make you give me money for this.”

“But,” you said, shaking your head, “what do you get out of this, besides endless dirt on me?”

“I get to see my best friend be comfortable in her own skin. I haven’t seen that much at all, in all the time we’ve known each other,” he said, and he reached for his phone on the bedside table. “Consider it, at least. I won’t mind in the slightest if you want to or not. It’s only a way I could help quell your anxiety.”

***

YOU

all right, you schmuck

YOU

i’ve slept on it

YOU

i think i want to do it. i can rescind that at any time though

HITOSHI 💜🍡

of course

HITOSHI 💜🍡

how much time do you need?

YOU

uh. guess i’m ready whenever you are.

YOU

my dorm or yours? or somewhere else????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

I bet you’ll feel the most comfortable in your own bed

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if you’ll allow me an hour to prepare, I’ll be over soon

***

What does one wear to get dommed?

Revealing clothing? Underwear? Anything at all?

A brisk knock on your door, way too quickly, but you braced yourself and opened the door on a serious Shinsou, clad in all black (jeans and a turtleneck), hair mussed up a bit more than usual, and carrying a duffel bag. He tilted his head as he looked up and down your body, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile at your loose, cat-patterned loungewear.

“May I come in?”

You stepped aside, and he strode inside, noting the lit candle (against dorm rules, but he’s no snitch) and cherry blossom lamp, and set his duffel on the desk. As you trudged in behind him, playing with your fingers idly, he pulled out your desk chair, spun it around, and straddled it, propping his folded arms across the back.

“Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing for you to sit on your bed, “I custom build my routine for each client. What I have in mind specifically for you is drastically different from anything I’ve ever done: it’s much gentler, slower—” He held your gaze, wide and serious, and wetted his lips. “—and intimate. I will walk you through every step, and you have the power to veto anything I propose. You have all the control here. I will never be disappointed in your decisions. You are not in danger.” He gripped his opposite elbow, knuckles whitening. “I want you to know that what we do does not have to be inherently sexual. Our goal is to increase your tolerance for physical contact, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your fists clenched in your lap, “To feel at ease when people I trust touch me…I’d like to have some shred of chill by the time my soulmate comes around.”

You hoped Shinsou wouldn’t start by making you suck his dick. Judging by the way he was sitting and the bulge in his jeans, he must have a huge fucking cock (weird to think about your best friend’s genitals). Opening your mouth that wide wouldn’t feel comfortable, and you’ve already been chewing gum today, soreness already imminent.

(What’s in his bag? Is it all condoms? [That’s a lot of condoms…])

“First off,” he said, raising a finger (but for some reason he’s raised his pinkie finger to indicate one instead of his index finger, and then you’re noticing the length of just his pinkie finger and imagining how far it could go down your throat), “I’m not gonna fuck you. That’s your soulmate’s job, as you’ve established. What else are you specifically saving for your soulmate?”

Shinsou’s mouth twitched into a smirk when he noticed your narrowed eyes followed the loose gesture of his pinkie finger, and with a roll of his eyes, he returned his pinkie to his fist and raised his index finger, which had your shoulders slackening as you slumped back onto your bed, leaning back against your hands with your neck tilted back, arched at the ceiling so that you didn’t have to look him in the face.

“I’ve got, uh, reservations about the…” You shifted your weight so that you could gesture vaguely with your hands. “Mouths and hands directly on my cunt sort of thing.”

Shinsou let out a low whistle, and at that you had to break from the ceiling to see his expression: he was fucking grinning and shaking his head, his eyes a bit glassy as he scanned your own expression. “Using some crude terms, aren’t we? For a virgin.”

“Oh, come on. I’m a virgin, not ignorant,” you said, crossing your arms over your stomach and hunching over a bit to hide, “Do you want me to be clinical? I can say vagina and vulva and stuff all the time if you want me to, but cunt, at least, blurs the specificity and makes it simpler—”

“No, no, you’re good. You can sit back up; no need to hide.” Shinsou flicked that index finger in a gesture that lifted from your knees to your head, and you unfurled, pissed that he’d picked up on your body language like that—but, you supposed, that’s what he’s here for. “I was simply surprised you didn’t go for pussy. Do you want me to avoid using that term?”

“Uh.” He’s being. Thorough. Thoughtful. Why didn’t anyone else ever treat you like this? Some of your friends have such an unholy combination of words in their vocabulary that barrage you with psychic damage, and no one’s ever asked or noticed if you’ve been uncomfortable. “I think—I think if you use it sporadically, it’ll be fine.”

“All right,” said Shinsou, nodding, “So, no direct contact of my mouth or hands on your cunt.”

God, he can’t turn off teasing you for one minute? “Yeah. Though I can rescind that. I’m hoping that I might be comfortable enough down the line, but right now, I’m not.”

“Of course. I’m proud of you for recognising a boundary, even if it’s temporary. We’ll only go there if you decide you’re ready.” He blinked slowly, like a cat in a sunbeam. “Anything else only for your soulmate?”

In a bunch of stories you’ve read about hook-ups or friends-with-benefits situations, the people don’t always allow kissing, because that implies romantic feelings. You didn’t know precisely due to your lack of experience, but maybe that holds a grain of truth?

“Okay. There’s another thing I’m not sure about at the moment but is subject to change,” you said, and there’s no fucking way you’re going to look at him while you said this, so you became very invested in pulling at a hangnail, “I don’t know about—how I feel about kissing. You. On the mouth. Because what if I’m the super susceptible kind of virgin who attaches herself to the first person who shows her affection, and I fall in fucking love with you?”

“Hm. That sounds less about kissing and more about this whole situation in general,” Shinsou said with a grunt, over the sounds of his pushing up from the chair and taking the two steps to stand in front of you. “Hey. Look at me?”

He’s got nice shoes. He didn’t take them off at the door, but considering they’re scuffed, black doc martens, they may be part of his getting into character as a dom. Huh, they made his feet look long and narrow; what kind of insane socks must he be wearing under—

“I’m gonna use one hand to touch your face. Is that okay? Nod, if—thank you,” said Shinsou, and his right palm cupped your cheek, his long fingers grazing wisps of your hair and thumb over your cheekbone, and he tilted your face up to look at him.

Wincing, you averted your eyes from his, but he tapped your cheek with his thumb. “Nuh-uh. Look at me, sweet—thank you,” he said, once you made yourself do it (and it was hard, harder than it had ever been whenever you’d shot him side-eye when he pulled a crap move in a co-op video game, harder than glancing towards him in class to see if he’d gotten your joke, and it left a stone sitting in your stomach, one whose full weight you didn’t care to discover). Part of not looking him in the eye was bracing yourself for his usual reprimand of you’re overthinking, but it never came. “Let’s entertain the thought of your falling in love with me,” said Shinsou with far too much ease, his lips remaining parted at the end of that heavy sentence, “Isn’t that good? Because it means that whatever part of me you fell for, you know that that’s something you want in your soulmate. It tells you more about yourself and what kind of love you want.”

Your jaw dropped on impulse, and his grin widened as he stroked your cheekbone.

“Think about your favourite characters in books and movies. Aren’t there patterns of traits in them that you’d want in your soulmate? Falling in love, in all of these frequent iterations, is just a way to learn about what you like in a partner. I know you like Prince Zuko—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, abruptly very aware of the warmth of his palm as you tried to move your face underneath it, “Are you telling me to treat you like that? Like someone disposable? Like someone who isn’t real?”

“The way you talk about Zuko does not indicate that you know he’s a goddamn cartoon,” said Shinsou, “Or, more specifically, his hands—”

“Hitoshi,” you said, screwing your face up in a pout while leaning into his hand (holy shit, leaning into his touch, a pseudo-depending on him to keep you upright—something about allowing the dependence mixed with the warmth of his scarred hands [very slight, calloused dents where he wound his capture weapon as default] had you feeling lightheaded—and then you felt stupid, because you were feeling lightheaded over a goddamn touch to your face that’s not even that delicate), “I’m not treating you like that. For you, that sounds—” You huffed, and you worked up the strength to look him in the eyes again. “—so lonely.”

Breaking the eye contact himself, Shinsou sighed, and he moved to slide his hand off of your face—but you clamped your own hand over it, first an actual clamping-type move, to get him to stay, and then lessening the pressure, to let him know he can take it off, if he really wants. “Sorry,” you said, tapping your finger on the back of his hand, “I like this. It’s easy. I can handle it, I think.”

Nodding, Shinsou kept his hand on your cheek as he grappled behind him for the chair again, and this time, he sat in it properly, with his knee grazing one of yours. “Listen. I’m used to people projecting feelings onto me. They get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, and once the scene is over, they know they don’t actually like me romantically. Post-nut clarity, y’know. So, if you want to,” said Shinsou, rubbing his thumb over your cheek and grasping one of your hands with his free one, “If you have any inclination to project feelings on me, if it does anything to make you feel more at ease, then please, do it. I want you to get to know you better.”

Project feelings. Not truly feeling them. And if you did happen to fall in love with him, then it’s only a passing thing to get to know what you want in your soulmate.

Shinsou seemed so certain that he was unlovable, and that stone in your gut burbled mournfully in stomach acid. You’d respect his decision to hide his soulmark’s name, but should he ever let it slip, you’re going to find his soulmate to prove him wrong as soon as possible.

“Okay,” you said, nodding firmly and looking him in the eyes.

“Okay? You sure? Right, then,” said Shinsou, and he sat back in his chair, relishing in how you visibly grieved at the loss of his touch, and crossed his arms loosely. “Any other boundaries, hard or otherwise?”

You took a moment. “The stomach-tummy area is personal.”

“You’re insecure about it?”

“Hey—”

He waved a dismissive hand at you. “I knew that already, but it’s good to have verbal confirmation. I’ve seen the rate at which you bare that part of you, even in the light of peer pressure. Just means I know an area to lavish affection upon, when or if we get there.”

Groaning, you fell back on your bed, the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. “You’re insane for noticing that. You’re insane for noticing that. How—”

“Being aware of my environment is part of what a stealth-route hero like me has to do, sweet—” Shinsou cut himself off and frowned. “How do you feel about terms of endearment?”

“Not Jack Nicholson’s best work.”

“You piece of shit,” said Shinsou with a laugh, yanking on your duvet to make your ass fall off the edge of the bed, “I meant. I meant if you were okay with pet names, like sweetheart or baby or anything.”

You scrambled to get your ass fully back on the bed, pulling the duvet with you. “I don’t know how I’d respond if you called me anything; it’s not really a sexy word—”

“You are in for a world of trouble one day,” Shinsou said, tossing the corner of the blanket over your head (you swatted at it), “Because now I can be honest about how you behave: you’re a goddamn brat, y’know?”

“Oh, come off of it, Hitoshi; with the way we tease each other, it’s like you’ve trained me to be this way,” you said, laughing a bit as you tucked your duvet in again, but when you caught Shinsou’s eye, for some reason, his expression had completely stiffened. It only lasted for a moment, though, and he recovered in a flash.

“Well,” he drawled out, “I figured that using terms of endearment would add another layer to teasing you, and judging by how hard you’re avoiding answering me seriously, you’d like that. Wouldn’t you, sweetness?”

“I’ll kill you,” you said, hating every fibre in your being as you’d, on reflex, tensed up, halting any movement, and flushed, heat flooding your face and neck, when he’d called you that. How old are you? Old enough not to get fucking flustered at being called—

“As if you could.” He clicked his tongue. “Are any terms off-limits?”

“You can probably think up something absurd or nasty that I wouldn’t consider,” you said, “Sticking to the classics would probably be the safest.”

“All right. Anything else you think of later, as a boundary, you let me know immediately. Now, listen: unless otherwise instructed, you’re free to touch me in any way you want. I may direct you away from something, should I think you’re not ready for it.” He raised his index finger again, and he made a big show of raising a second finger from his fist. “And finally, two. This is a hard, non-negotiable rule for you: I’m not going to use my quirk on you. Ever.”

You collapsed on your bed again with a disgruntled groan. “What else is new?”

Shinsou shook his head. “I don’t want you getting the impression that just because we’re in a session that I’m going to do that to you.”

You sat up and snapped your head towards him. “You said it’s a rule for me. Do you use your quirk on other people who get you to dom them? Because, if so, I call bitch.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Shinsou hunched over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. They ask me to, and! And,” he said, holding up his hand to stop you from protesting, “It’s nothing but a session. They’re paying me for a good time, and that’s it. But you—you’re doing this as—as something akin to therapy, I guess. I’m just a step on your journey to being intimate with your soulmate—someone you’ll be with for the rest of your life. That’s a long time to be without my quirk, if you get too used to it, in the context of being intimate. If you end up needing to be brainwashed to be vulnerable, then it’ll only stunt the physical part of your relationship with your soulmate.”

“Fuck you for making sense,” you said, mirroring his hunched-over position and nudging his knee with yours, “And as for real-life reasons for not using it? Because you’re an ass?”

Shinsou’s eyes narrowed and glinted in the cherry-blossom light. “Because imagine,” he said, reaching towards your face again (pausing a moment to ensure you were okay with it, and after you nodded, he continued) to lift your chin with nothing but his curved index finger underneath it, “if I could finally control the biggest brat in my life, and what’s more, she wants me to? Much too addicting. I wouldn’t get anything done. I’ve got to become a hero after all this; I can’t spend all my time taking care of my prettiest little girl.”

When he dropped your chin, you stayed tilted up, in the same position he left you in, throat exposed and blinking profusely as you tried to process what he’d said. Your mouth was very, very dry.

Uh.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” said Shinsou, and you jolted from your stance to see his hand clapped over his mouth, brow furrowed with the tips of his ears reddening, shoulders curved in as he slumped.

It’s about time he showed he could get flustered, too, because you’ve already embarrassed yourself just with conversation and a few touches to your face. But what the hell was he getting like that over?

Shinsou dragged his hand down his chin and formed it into a fist in his lap. “Do you know if you’re into proper Dom/Sub dynamics? Do you know if that’s something you’d like to explore? Because with the way you stayed there for me,” said Shinsou, inching towards you, his chest heaving at his steadying breath, “you could be someone’s perfect little sub someday.”

“I think so. I think I am,” you said in a small voice, “I think that’s something I might want to be—hold the fuck up. Did I manage to turn you on?”

After the tiniest moment of shrinking under your smug smile, Shinsou puffed out his chest as he sat up, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s to be expected in a session, since it’s a sexual context.”

“Oh, my God, I did it. I turned someone on. Holy shit,” you said, running your fingers back through your hair, “I think I have to call Mina. I finally did it.”

Shinsou scoffed. “Please, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve—”

“Oh?” You froze, your hand almost to your phone on your bedside table. “Say more right now? Who do you know who’s been—”

“We’ve discussed boundaries enough for this first session, since it’s not that invasive. Let’s get to the heart of the session,” said Shinsou, standing to reach around for his duffel bag, and, after unzipping it, he handed his laptop to you. “Pick out a movie.”

You tilted your head as Shinsou trudged back to your door to untie his doc martens. “Excuse me?”

“I should already be logged in. Check my bookmarks bar for streaming sites,” he called from your door.

Shrugging to yourself, you slipped his laptop from his Put Your Hands Up Radio sleeve (leftover merch that wouldn’t sell; you had one as well) and opened it to search for a movie, automatically shifting over on your bed to the spot where you sat when the two of you watched something and blindly reaching for your throw blanket.

“Now, did I tell you to do that?” asked Shinsou as he rounded the corner again to see you settling into the usual routine, and after retrieving some water bottles from his duffel, he stood by your bedside table, where he put the water while bouncing on the balls of his feet (plain black socks. He is taking this seriously). “I’m not your friend right now, sweetheart; I’m your dom.” The same hand cupped your same cheek as earlier, and he briefly ran his thumb over your cheekbone before returning his hand to behind his back. “All I did was tell you to pick out a movie, and while I’m pleased you can extrapolate from incomplete information, it’s not what I want you doing right now. Sit back where you were.”

Holding your breath, you scooted back to the middle of the bed, where you’d been sitting on the edge, computer in your lap. What have you gotten yourself into? Was this what your best friend was really like? Has he had some sort of issue with your movie nights up until now?

Shinsou sat at the head of the bed, but he took up the whole space instead of sitting in his normal spot. He held out his hand for the laptop, and he placed it, cracked open, on your bedside table, moving your phone out of the way.

And then he fucking spread his legs.

“C’mon, sweet girl, sit back against me,” he said, patting a thigh with one hand and extending the other towards you, “I know you can do it. Come here.”

I know you can do it felt condescending here. Of course you can do it. It’s nothing but sitting between his legs instead of next to him. Very simple. Mind-bogglingly simple. So, it felt patronising and unnecessary that he would pull out that line for something so easy, this early in the game.

That didn’t mean you didn’t like it.

This was his idea of a first session? You were so pathetic that he felt the need for you to practise sitting between a man’s legs? Shut the fuck up.

Penis. You might touch a rascally ol’ penis, even if it’s through layers and layers of fabric. Inch resting.

You’ve never been fucking held. What if you cry, or something?

Which, oh, yikes, oof, makes your second point make a bit of sense.

Steeling yourself, you crawled the two feet towards him, but you hesitated before turning around: he’d parted his legs ever wider while you’d crawled back, so none of him was touching you at the moment, giving you still a chance to back out before it began.

“If it helps,” he said, tired eyes half-lidded, “think of me as your soulmate.”

Swallowing, you managed to nod just barely, and you turned.

At first, you’d tried to have some space between you and Shinsou, but he’d helped position you, guiding you with his large hands on your hips to have your ass snug against his pelvis (and yeah, the penis was there), hips framed by his inner thighs (since when have his thighs been bigger than yours? And his were all muscle), and he slid his hands up to your waist and ribcage to keep your back pressed against his chest. Once he had you all pressed against him the way he liked, Shinsou set his chin on your shoulder, startling you, but he petted away your alarm at your waist, a gruntled huff of hot air at your ear while he grounded you.

“You can tell me at any time if you get too stiff or want to change to a different position, but you’re staying in my arms tonight,” said Shinsou, untangling one arm from around your waist to reach for the laptop, “I thought cuddling would be a good start for you—full-bodied vulnerability, but you don’t necessarily have to look me in the eyes for it, and you can feel safe knowing I’ve got you. You’re held; you’re not in any danger.”

He placed the laptop on your knees. “Now, knowing your sense of humour, you’ve picked out Terms of Endearment.” Instead, he opened it to the title screen for a Zuko-centric episode of The Last Airbender. “All right, that’s fair.” You heard him laughing through his nose behind you before returning his chin to your shoulder.

Initially, you couldn’t concentrate on Zuko’s rippling pectorals for once in your life, because there was a man holding you and his dick was right there. Not, like, hard or anything, but it was present, just something extra to press against your ass. Eventually, it became less about the cock and more about being held, which was fucking intoxicating and warm and made you feel so small and safe, and that was out of the ordinary for you. The small huffs of Shinsou’s laughter in your ear through his occasional commentary (really kind of him to talk through a movie, like he normally did, instead of staying in dom mode, you thought. Helped you relax).

But even the movie night had to be cut short. Five minutes into the third episode, you’d finally cosied into his arms—dare you say, feeling like you could handle this thing called cuddling—when Ojiro and Hagakure started going at it next door. Hardly a full minute had elapsed between their clamouring down the hallway, the slamming shut of her door, and what sounded like a kabedon and something immediately plunging into Hagakure, based on her moans. Probably fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I hope they were fooling around in public beforehand, so she’s at least gotten some prep,” you said, as Shinsou shut the laptop.

“We’ll continue this another time,” said Shinsou, setting it aside, and he, moving to kneel, guided your hips forward to turn you around to face him. “Was this okay?”

You shot him a double thumbs-up. “Excellent first step. New but safe, facilitated by a variation of something we’re already used to.”

“Something we’re already used to,” he repeated under his breath, for some reason, barely audible over Ojiro’s tail thwacking the shared wall. He reached for both his laptop sleeve and a water bottle for you, and he started packing his stuff away.

You twisted off the cap to break the seal. “Are we gonna do something different next time?”

“I think we’re going to do this a couple more times so that being held is no longer a sort of event in your mind, adding some minor variety so that you don’t get overwhelmed, before we move onto something completely different.”

Wiping water off of your mouth with the back of your hand, you bit your lip. “You’re being so kind to me. So patient. Considerate.”

He shot you a look from where he was zipping up his duffel. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” you said, holding the bottle in both hands, “Don’t most of your clients, like, choke on your cock within fifteen minutes of starting?”

His back was to you as he fiddled with a side pocket, and it took him a beat to reply. “Believe it when I tell you that I am delighted you’re letting me walk at your own pace.”

***

You were completing the world’s most pathetic checklist.

Holding hands? Check.

Cuddling? Check.

Spooning cuddling? Check.

Being able to look a man in the eyes while he tenderly cupped your face with both hands and told you nice things about you? Check—though that one took a lot out of you.

Were you embarrassing? Maybe a bit, but you couldn’t talk yourself out of being who you were, and Shinsou didn’t seem to want to, either.

You allowed yourself to curl up into yourself in the café booth, hiding yourself in the back while you propped your forehead against the exposed brick of the back wall. Lately, Shinsou had been directing you away from hiding your body and making yourself smaller when you felt ashamed, and damn it, you understood how he was trying to be helpful, but sometimes you just didn’t want to be perceived.

This session was the first public outing—a practise date, he’d called it. Practise for showing small, safe gestures of affection out in public. He’d dressed up in another all-black outfit again, as usual, because he’d emphasised that he had to get in character, to get out of “Best Friend Shinsou” mode. He’d even made a hype playlist, but he refused to show it to you yet.

He’d picked a café that you’d never been to so that you wouldn’t have to worry about the staff at your regular places judging you, and once again, you’re struck by how kind Shinsou was. If he were this level of considerate with all of his clients, no wonder they kept coming back to him. To be able to stop worrying, to leave it all to someone who took such pains to ensure your comfort and safety, who made your decisions for you—it’s goddamn inebriating.

Huh, it’s taking him a while to get menus. You tapped your fingernails in a ripple on the table where he’d parked you. Where was he? Twisting around, you scanned the open café area but recognised no one. How do you lose someone with purple troll hair?

Oh, he was rounding the corner of the dessert case, coming out of the hallway with the bathrooms, and he…he was talking to someone you’d never seen before, way shorter than he was with pastel pink hair and enormously puffy, white earrings. Even from the back corner booth, the way her face lit up as she spoke to him charmed you.

Shinsou was smiling, too, a pensive sort of wryness crossing his face as he snatched two menus from the basket up front, his brow furrowing when he had to shake a sticky third one off. Her elegant face pinched up when Shinsou unstuck the remaining two, and he gestured towards the booth where you were sitting. Oh, the fabric on this chair was absolutely fascinating, all of a sudden, and you kept plucking at it until Shinsou’s doc martens appeared in your view.

“I apologise for taking so long,” said Shinsou, sliding in next to you instead of across from you like a normal person, and he offered a menu.

You took it, rubbing the tacky plastic film. “It’s fine. Why sit next to me? It’s a booth, not the Last Supper.”

“It’s so we can hold hands, you muppet,” said Shinsou, and he promptly laced his fingers between yours and rested your hands on the table between you. As he laid the menu flat on the table, he returned the pink-haired woman’s wave as she exited the café, squeezing your hand as he did so.

“Care to enlighten me?” You scanned the drinks section, honing in on the coffee.

He flipped over the menu. “I can tell you she went by Mawata, with me. Not giving you the family name, mind. Signed the contract.”

Who would pay that much for a café au lait? Bougie. Perhaps even pretentious. “I see.”

“She recognised the getup and assumed I was in a session. I didn’t want to betray your trust, so I told her I was on a date. Which isn’t far from the truth.”

“I see,” you said, this time more strangled.

“Do you know what you want to order yet?”

“Almost.”

“Good,” he said, releasing your hand and scooting closer to you, “because we’re going to try doing something a step further. I—”

“Fucking go for it,” you said, peeking at the other side of the menu.

Shinsou faltered. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve kept me safe so far,” you said, shooting him a smile, “I trust—”

Mawata was bursting back into the café, the bell on the door ringing rather violently, and rushing back to your booth, her puffy earrings swaying erratically. Shinsou turned himself towards you, taking up space and shielding you the best he could by the time she skidded to a stop at your table, her kitten heels leaving a scuff on the tile.

“When can I hire you again?” she asked, breathless, “I’m assuming she knows.” She didn’t even spare a glance towards you.

Bracing himself, Shinsou turned his head in her direction, still hovering over you. “Now’s not exactly the best time.”

Mawata fidgeted with her purse strap. “I know I’m being rude, but holy shit. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ll be rude if it means I get to see you again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t let you go now that there’s a chance again. Even if I have to pay you, I have to have you in my life. There’s no consistent way to contact you, so it feels like fate that I met you today.”

While Mawata rambled, Shinsou turned towards you, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, and, wincing, he shot you an apologetic look, eyebrows raised. You didn’t know what was coming, but you nodded. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he mouthed thank you, and for a brief moment, as he turned back to her, you caught a hardened expression you’ve never seen on your best friend.

“Mawata,” he said, stone cold and callous and chilling, “It sounds like you’ve broken one of my rules.”

She flinched, the movement shuddering through her whole body and bobbling her earrings, and she dropped her gaze to the floor, her head bowed and fists tight on her purse strap. A choked whimper escaped her as she took a shaky, shallow breath.

The distressing, empty space in which Shinsou waited for her to answer caused you to tense up behind him, and without looking back, he fucking skimmed his fingers over your thigh, cool as you please, until he could place his spread palm across it. Lightly, at first, a barely-there touch, but—you had to give him some sort of signal, so you grazed your thumb over the back of his hand—after he had your approval, he let the full weight of his hand rest on your thigh, gently tapping his fingers on the fabric of your jeans.

Good. Considerate, attentive Shinsou was still there, underneath whoever the fuck he was being now.

Her choppy, straight bangs shielded her eyes as she kept her head down. “I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

Sir?! Sir?!

That’s fucking Hitoshi. Hitoshi, who talks in a high-pitched voice to cats and encourages Eri to decorate his face with stickers. Hitoshi, who can’t always remember to take the tin foil off of his leftovers before putting them in the microwave. Hitoshi, your best friend, who’s got his goddamn hand on your thigh.

(Hand cover…so much…of thigh. Big hand. Big hand good. Big hand safe. Big hand hold you.)

([Good God, woman, pull yourself together. It’s just a hand on your thigh.])

(But there is nothing just about Shinsou, is there?)

Shaking his head, Shinsou clicked his tongue. “And I’m sure you do. I want you to say what rule you’ve broken—and I know which one you have; you can’t hide from me. I’ve been in your brain; I know how you think. I want you to admit it. And I want you to tell me what you’re doing wrong now because of it. If you can’t even say it, I no longer know you.” He lifted his chin as he stared her down, and even from behind, you can tell that he’s giving her that cold glare that made anyone shatter—you’ve only seen it in training, and it’s never been used against you. “You know what you signed. Say it.”

“I—I’ve developed feelings for you,” she managed to say.

“And?”

“And that means, by contract, I can’t see you again.”

“And?”

“And!” Mawata inhaled sharply, shifting her jaw as she raised her head to look him in the eye and chickened out, instead focusing on the table. “And by approaching you in public with another client, you’re gonna fucking blacklist me with the others across the fucking city. But sir, you said you were on a date, and I didn’t know you did that now, and I want that—”

“Not quite. I’m not out with a client,” Shinsou said evenly, squeezing your thigh under the table, “I’m out with my girlfriend. Which is a greater transgression on your part, wouldn’t you say? We’re done here.” Shinsou nodded once and gave a dismissive wave, and she bolted out of the shop.

Shinsou turned to you, expression soft, posture crumpling, and hands lifting to cup your face, and he babbled apologetically. “Baby, I’m so sorry you had to see that. Mawata’s violated contract before by badgering Kaminari for my personal number, but that doesn’t immediately blacklist her; it got her put on a probation list. I’m sorry. I tried to get rid of her the best I could at first, but it didn’t work, and I’m so fucking sorry you had to see me like that. I would never treat you like that, sweetheart; you mean too much to me. Please believe me when I say that what you saw was just a continuation of the dynamic established between Mawata and me and that I would never—” He cut himself off and rested his forehead against yours. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.”

Hello! I would like to address girlfriend. Are we going to do that?

(Well, you figured, in the moment in which you cracked your eyes open to watch Shinsou’s unfairly long eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, that using girlfriend was a firm way to establish that Mawata was not wanted there.

Plus, he had said earlier that he hadn’t revealed you were a pseudo-client, so it may have been a confidentiality thing. Even though you never signed anything. That’s Shinsou for you, being a step ahead in caring for you.)

“Hitoshi, it’s fine,” you said, placing your hands over his and bringing them down into your lap, “I get it. You did what you had to. Yes, you scared me a bit, but some part of it was also hot. You let me know you were still there.”

Shinsou pulled back to garner your expression, and, after seeing something that he evidently liked, he bent to put his forehead on your shoulder. “So, the hand on your thigh was good?”

“Very. I appreciate that you did it through clothes for this first try. Not as startling.” Since Shinsou has been so good to you, you bolstered enough courage to comfort him back: you tentatively raised a hand to run it through his hair, scratching at the base of his skull, and the man fucking groaned, snuggling down into your shoulder and getting as close as he could to your neck without going past your collar (you hadn’t gotten to neck stuff yet, which, as you noted it, may be the dumbest fucking thing about yourself). “She mentioned others? I’m assuming other hired doms?”

“More or less,” said Shinsou, his voice grumbling, “I don’t really see much of them. Mostly at the start, when I was learning how to do BDSM stuff myself. Making sure what I was doing was safe. Helped me with legal stuff. I don’t wanna be sued or arrested for any of this, y’know.”

“Don’t tell me Aizawa-sensei’s involved. You can just look at that fucker and tell he’s into tying people up and brat-taming.”

“All right,” said Shinsou with a muffled laugh, “I won’t tell you.”

“Holy shit. That’s our professor—”

“No, c’mon, keep scratching. Go on. Let’s see what I can tell you,” said Shinsou, “He’s never been one of the employees proper, but he has provided some educational materials—yes, on shibari. Thank God someone else is now burdened with this information.”

“Think he was affected from the soulmate quirk?”

“If he does, his soulmate’s in for it,” said Shinsou, whining a bit when you moved away from the base of his skull, and he plopped your hand back there to keep scratching. “He fucking needs someone to take care of. And to take care of him. Fuck, he’s a mess.” He sighed into your shirt. “Speaking of, I’ve got an escort mission with him and the rest of the stealth-focused group in about a week, so we won’t be able to have a proper session. Odds are, I’ll be prepping with the rest of the students, so we won’t see much of each other at all.”

“Remind me who’s studying stealth?”

“Bakugou and Aoyama. Oh, and Todoroki’s been shoved in our group, since he’s hopeless at PR, according to Kayama-sensei. Don’t know how that’ll affect our current group dynamic, but I look forward to working with him. Midoriya can’t say enough good things about him.” Shinsou dragged himself away from your shoulder. “So, I’m sorry we won’t be seeing each other as much. I’ll text you when I can.”

“I’ve got stuff with Present Mic to work on. It’s fine. That just means I get to hang out with Dango instead of you, right?”

“Stop bragging,” he said, and he pointed at the menu as he stood. “Time to tell me your first and second choices for your order. I’ll get the second one, so you can try some of it.”

“Wow, someone’s a slave to routine,” you said, indicating what you wanted, “If I hadn’t seen your performance just then, I’d say that your dom persona is the same as typical Hitoshi.”

His eyes glinted strangely as he smirked and gathered the menus to put them away. “Is it?”

***

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou is bitching about the quality of aoyama’s trail mix

HITOSHI 💜🍡

says it’s shit

HITOSHI 💜🍡

he’s made us trail mix that he considers good. we have spent a considerable amount of this mission prep meeting debating what qualifies good trail mix.

HITOSHI 💜🍡

bakugou, I mean

YOU

idk man i thought aoyama’s trail mix was pretty fucken tasty

HITOSHI 💜🍡

why am I not surprised you’re the one who ate most of it last night

HITOSHI 💜🍡

if they ask where it went, I won’t tell

***

The day of Shinsou’s escort mission, you were out shopping for a plant for him. “I mean, you’re extremely attentive with people and cats,” you were saying, your phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as you checked the price on the bottom of a zinnia starter, “but something tells me you will forget a plant is real.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, jackass,” came Shinsou’s voice over the phone, “I could keep up with something like a succulent. Or bamboo. I bet bamboo would fucking thrive in my dorm.”

“Bamboo requires frequent watering and heavy sunlight, actually,” you said, moving on to non-flowering plants, “So that thing would fucking die the instant it crosses your threshold.”

“Distressing things to hear,” said Shinsou, and you heard Aizawa’s voice and Shinsou’s distant response. “Gotcha. Listen, I’ve got to go. The plane’s scheduled to land in five minutes, so I’ve got to focus. Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Good luck!”

“Thanks. You, too, with the plant. Bye,” he said, but he didn’t hang up. You figured he meant to and just didn’t. Your thumb hovered the end call button, but when you strained to hear Aizawa’s and Bakugou’s voices and Shinsou’s closer replies through the phone, you elected to stay on the call.

Putting it on speaker and into your front pocket, you wandered through the garden section moving into the sheltered area as thunder rumbled, fingering at the textures of leaves, and admiring colours. Having him on speaker like this, even if it were just mission talk, felt like he was here with you, and you haven’t hung out with him in over a week—and now with the frequency of both friend hangouts and soulmate-prep sessions, his absence left you with an emptiness, an ache curling into your gut that pinched at your insides. This morning, you’d awoken feeling like you’d been kicked in the chest, so that’s why you risked calling him, even though he was out on a mission, and when you heard his voice, the ache disappeared.

None of these succulents were bitchy enough.

You covered your mouth as you laughed: what if you got him a fake plant and never told him?

You meandered inside as the rain picked up. Talk about radio signals scrambling came through as you debated the merits of a fake blossom on a fake cactus, and you turned the volume down in case you gave away confidential information to the few other losers in a home improvement store this early in the day. It’s a good thing you did, because otherwise, the sound of the airport explosion would’ve scared someone other than you out of your skin.

You ran back outside where you could yell, even though you might not be heard over the pouring rain. “Hitoshi?! ’Toshi, are you there? Say anything! Please!” He never responded to you, but you could hear yelling—not from him, but from Aizawa, from Bakugou, from Aoyama—and heavy cracking and crumbling you couldn’t tell if it were from a building collapsing or thunder rolling.

God, he’s not going to respond, is he? He didn’t know he’s still on a call—but you can track his location, right? Oh, my—fucking.

Staying on the call on your way back to U.A., you sent Shinsou’s location to Present Mic as soon as you could, saying you were headed back. Mic shot back a thumbs-up, since he couldn’t interrupt your call, said you should go give keep tracking with campus security, and that the location has been the biggest help so far in finding the team. They’re buried underneath airport rubble, and your connection with Shinsou’s phone is the only clue they have. Even if his phone isn’t buried—and it probably isn’t, since it has signal—it’s their best chance so far of being found.

The ride back to U.A. had you jolting at any little outside stimulus (and you had to keep apologising to people on the train for not having headphones), but all you could do once you reached security was keep listening. Ages and ages and ages of faint sirens, pelting rain, and shifting wreckage, with you crying so much that one of the security workers felt bad enough for you that they bought you a drink from a vending machine.

And then—as you’re screwing the lid onto your empty bottle—the crunching of footsteps. A distant, “Oh, sweet,” and the grappling of his leather glove around his phone. But something in your gut told you to keep silent. To keep this to yourself. Glancing over your shoulder to the final, straggling security worker at the far computer, you borrowed a pair of earbuds and hid your phone.

Shinsou must have put his phone in his pocket (the one on the side of his chest, based on how close his voice sounded) without looking at the screen, because the call kept going.

“No, say that again,” came Shinsou’s voice, exasperation prevalent, “What happened while they were underground?”

“Bakugou, Aoyama, and Todoroki were all affected by Serendipity’s quirk, but they’ve worked their way out of it,” said Aizawa, more gruffly than usual, or perhaps that was just the thunderstorm interfering with the sound coming through. “Listen. Don’t ask them for details and just be glad you’d been confined elsewhere. But we’ve got to peel Bakugou off Serendipity’s back before he breaks it and get her to Sakura Grove now.”

The relief at their voices triggered exhaustion, and you slumped in your seat, head down on the desk. God, you’ll take all this bullshit about travelling and escorting to this sakura place or whatever. It’s good to hear him talk. You’d listen in forever, so long as he was there. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk. Something in your gut screamed for you not to.

Actual, informative dialogue picked up when they’d apparently arrived at this Sakura Grove place, rushing through security to find Midnight and the team prepared to control Serendipity. You managed to smile at the sound of all of their boots clacking against tile. Lots of running, it seemed, even before they split up.

Shinsou was the one to find Midnight and frantically updated her, all out of breath. “—and Aizawa-sensei’s got her contained in the main waiting room, but he can’t keep her for much longer—”

“Listen,” Midnight interrupted, “I can’t have Ito and Serendipity be in the same room. Watch her while I take care of this. She can’t do anything more to you, so—” Her voice grew faint.

And at last, silence again.

Eventually, a woman’s voice came over the speaker. “Nice tits.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t stare at my chest,” said Shinsou, and you fucking laughed under your breath, shoulders heaving. You folded your arm to use as a pillow on the desk and smiled loosely as you listened in.

“Who are you? She said Ito, but that doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Yet what she said told me so much.”

Shinsou paused. “What d’you mean?”

“That I can’t do anything more to you. Tells me you’ve met me before. Inhaled my quirk.”

Shinsou took a deep breath, as if to remember. “You broke into U.A.” Heavy exhale. “You ruined my goddamn life.”

“Want to sit down and talk? They’ve set up a lovely sitting room here, really. Seems a shame not to put that great ass to use.”

“Please stop objectifying me,” said Shinsou, sighing (and you could picture him running his hand back through his hair, with it bouncing back instantly), “Fine. Fine, I’ll talk. I know someone who likes having information. I’ve got to kill time, anyway.”

Shuffling. The creak of a chair.

“Why don’t you start with how I’ve ruined your life?”

“Take a fucking look at this.” The sounds of velcro and thick fabric being adjusted, and then silence.

“Okay,” said Ito slowly, “It’s a name.”

“It’s my fucking name, jerkass. Do you have any idea how much sleep I’ve lost over it? How am I supposed to deal with this? Am I doomed to be alone? Am I supposed to cry while jerking off for the rest of my life? Is that what the love I have amounts to? Because—and not that I would fucking want this, but even if there were another Shinsou Hitoshi, it probably wouldn’t be spelled with the same kanji, so fuck with that, if you will.”

More fabric shuffling, as Ito spoke. “I bet it would be difficult to find another Shinsou written as chastity and honest.”

“Yeah, my parents are insane. Bet they’d be disappointed in me, if they knew what I was doing concerning chastity and honesty. Has your quirk created something like this before? Is there a way to fix me?” Shinsou’s voice cracked.

“Well, let’s backtrack. There may not be anything to fix.”

“So, you have seen this before?”

“No, but I’d like to cover all my bases,” said Ito, “How bad is the pain? Are you at the level where you pass out yet?”

A beat. “What pain?” Another. “Stop staring at my tits. Pecs.”

“This is funny. You’re funny.” You could hear the smile in Ito’s voice. “Good thing I like funny. I crave funny. Did you know I have no contact with the outside world except through letters?”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“They keep packets of cheese crackers somewhere in one of these drawers. Will you help me find some?”

Shuffling. Wooden drawers opening and shutting. Crinkling of plastic.

“You’re not feeling the pain because you’ve already met your soulmate,” said Ito through a mouthful of cheese cracker, “If you hadn’t met them, you’d be in fuckin’ agony. All achy, and shit.”

“I can hardly see how I could avoid meeting myself.”

“Okay, cut the bullshit, smartass. My quirk doesn’t work like that, unless you’re attracted to yourself.”

The sound of chewing, up close and personal. “God, no. I hate myself.”

“Then you have a soulmate, and you’ve met them. Easy as that.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said Shinsou.

“Oh, get fucked. You’re a young hero affected by my quirk, who has associations with Midnight, and you haven’t read my team’s notes on my quirk? You’re not employing all your resources,” said Ito, crunching.

“Someone who read it told me pertinent details,” Shinsou protested.

“Not pertinent to you, it appears. Not that it matters how my quirk works, I suppose. Just be assured that you have a soulmate who’s not you, and you’ve met them. Since you’re not feeling any pain at all, it sounds like they’ve accepted you in some way. Acknowledged you with some sign of affection. Depending on how obvious they are, you may be an idiot.”

“Fuck,” came Shinsou’s whisper, “I’ve been in some…situations recently. There are a number of candidates.” Crinkling of plastic and chewing. “But I still don’t get how my own name as a soulmark works.”

“Bitch, you’re overthinking.”

And Shinsou laughed. Hard. Hearing it made up for all the distress you’ve been under today. His laugh always sounded a bit higher than his speaking voice, like it hasn’t been through as much or like it’s well-rested.

“Got a preference for who it is?” Ito asked.

 Shinsou swallowed thickly. “Yeah.”

“Perfect. Then we can start from there. I can help you find out who it is, by process of elimination.”

“Hey, give me your trash.” Footsteps, there and back again, and the sinking back into the cushy chair. “Why would you help me? You’re a villain, and I’m a trainee-hero you just met.”

“Whatever is going on with you is pathetic and hilarious, and like I said, I like funny. What’s more, I like conclusions to stories,” she said, “and yours, I feel, is going to be marvellously, gloriously stupid. I wanna hear it when it happens.”

Shifting in his seat. “You can get letters? All right.” More shifting. “But what if my soulmark is broken, and I don’t have an ending?”

“Okay, then I’ll take payment now.”

“I think I want to back out—”

“Relax, asshole. I’ll help you,” said Ito, “All you have to do is describe what body part on a woman you prefer.”

“That’s all?”

A beat. “You look like a feet guy.”

“I do fucking not.”

“You’ve got the mouth for it.”

It sounded like Shinsou pushed himself up out of his chair. “Y’know, I think I can live without your help.”

“My dude, I have already established that I am desperate for humour in my life, and even from our brief interaction, you have revealed yourself to be wonderful to tease. Sorry for accusing you of being a foot fetishist. Didn’t mean it. Sit back down?”

A pause. He must have sat and chosen his words carefully. “You usually shield your chest or genitals when someone’s threatening you when you’re physically vulnerable, yeah? What’s left unprotected, though…I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck. Sensual and intimate. Satisfying. I’m betting—kissing the back of it, even when she expects is, is going to make her jump out of her skin. I can’t fucking wait. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”

“Something’s wrong with you. Really.”

“I happen to be—normal. Normal and well-adjusted.”

“You’re into necks and not into choking?” Ito tutted. “Even with your BDSM hero costume?”

“Choking is when something’s caught inside your throat. Technically, what people have taken to doing in bed is a type of strangulation.”

“Way to bring the conversation down, fusspot.”

“I did what you asked and answered honestly,” said Shinsou, “I think we should skip the rest of the part in which you make fun of me and proceed to where you actually help.”

“Sure. First, we’ll need an airtight container.” Another pause.

Shinsou made a frustrated noise. “If you’re really that desperate to stare at men’s tits, my friend Bakugou is in the lobby, and his are way bigger than mine.”

“No, it’s—I get that you’re all posh, since you’re a U.A. student, but I’m assuming even a hero’s BDSM costume isn’t supposed to glow in the chest area. Or at least, only one side of it.”

“What are you—oh, shit, that’s my—”

The call ended.

***

What were you supposed to do? Pretend you weren’t on the phone, obviously, but moreover, how could you possibly help Shinsou find his soulmate when his soulmark was his own name?

Monoma was no help solving anything, but at least he was good company when everyone else was making out (you missed when people played video games in public instead of dry-humping). He and you were caring for Eri that afternoon, since Aizawa, Shinsou, and the rest had to go in for documentation.

Eri pressed a pawprint sticker (from that cat café Aizawa frequented) onto your cheek. “They’re in love,” she said.

“Who?” Monoma asked from his place on the floor, lying down with his legs straight up to rest against the couch.

“Konpeito and Dango,” she said, pointing to the two cats cuddling together on the middle couch cushion, “See how they’re yin and yang?” From above, she was right, ish. Konpeito and Dango certainly had the swish-shapes fitting together in a circle, if not the entirely correct colourings.

“I’m glad they finally went to sleep,” you said, choosing a coffee mug sticker for Eri to put on you next.

Eri nodded gravely. “If Dad-sensei finds the pottery pieces in the trash, I’ll tell him a shark did it. I don’t want him to make Konpeito move out.”

Monoma caught your eye and stifled a laugh, but you didn’t know if it were for Dad-sensei or the shark. “Eri,” he said, checking his phone for the time, “Do you know what’s going on with the room at the end of the hall?”

Frowning, Eri pursed her lips. “Dad-sensei lives there. Is something wrong with it?”

“I should’ve been more specific; I apologise. I meant the empty that been used for storage so far, on the other side where no one goes,” said Monoma, stowing his phone in his pocket, “Room 310, I think. It’s okay if you don’t know, Eri.”

“Oh,” said Eri, peeling off the coffee mug sticker, “I don’t know much. Dad-sensei and All Might-sensei have been talking about it sometimes.” She smoothed it out across the inside of your forearm. “I think someone like me is going to move into that room, but not for a long, long time from now. I hope they like cats. Can I see your words again?”

Monoma shared a sympathetic look with you and became busy with bothering the cats, allowing you the space to stretch the neck of your shirt down far enough to the middle of your left shoulder blade for Eri to read your soulmark.

“Ice princess,” she said, bafflement creeping in, “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I know, kiddo,” you said, “but I used to be a bit mean. It used to fit me.”

“When?”

“When I first started going to U.A.,” you said, “Before the first sports festival, especially. Even though I was shy, I remember being very protective of the few friends I’d made in 1-A at that point. Maybe I had a bad day and was mean about it. Mean about the way I was protecting my friends, or something. I don’t really know, Eri. I don’t know what my soulmark means.”

“Can I copy it? I want to practise writing ice princess.” At your consent, she told you to wait while she got some paper, and you waited more while she carefully copied down the kanji for that part of your soulmark. She presented the paper to you when she was done.

Cute. Adorable. Her basic penmanship made your confusing, harsh words into something endearing. Except. “Hey, Eri, I think you’ve written the kanji for forever here, instead of ice. See how you’ve put two little strokes at the top? Ice only has one.”

“Oh! Thank you very much. The handwriting on your back is all squished, so it’s hard to see all the strokes.” She corrected her kanji on the sheet at the same time that Monoma’s head snapped towards yours, both pairs of eyes bulging (clown to clown communication).

Handwriting.

Eri carefully copied the corrected kanji again and stopped to admire her writing. “Even if you don’t understand it, I still think it’s good.” She wrote her name at the bottom and turned the paper around to show the both of you. “Do I get a soulmate someday?”

You hid your sorrow, and Monoma answered for you. “I hope to God you don’t.”

***

Instead of breaking off towards Class B’s dormitory after dinner, like he normally did, Monoma followed you up the stairs of Class A’s dorm.

“Ah, ha, who are you going to see? Shinsou and I have a movie night,” you said, lying about the session you were going to his room for, “so you must have made a friend.”

“Hilarious. A lie and an attempt at a blow to my ego,” said Monoma, stuffing his hands in his pockets, as he trotted up the stairs behind you, “No, I’m attending Shinsou’s little session, the same as you are.”

“Fuck it all to hell,” you said, halting on the top step, “Did everyone know about that except for me?”

“Chill, I learnt about it two days ago when Shinsou asked for my help. Keep going; he’ll explain it when we get there,” said Monoma, passing you to hold the stairway door open.

Shinsou was waiting for the both of you. He opened his door before you could knock twice and ushered you in. You expected Monoma to make some comment about Shinsou’s clothes (you think he’s got outfits on rotation, but since a fair chunk of his wardrobe is black, anyway, it’s hard to tell) or his serious vibes, but Monoma didn’t say a word or make any condescending expressions. For once, it seemed, he was quiet and subdued, hands in his pockets and standing behind you, waiting.

“Monoma’s here to help,” said Shinsou, stepping forward to curl his long fingers into your hair, scratching gently at your scalp (your eyes fluttered shut, and you struggled to keep them from crossing and rolling back; you have definitely been denying yourself the simple pleasure of someone playing with your hair: safe but immensely satisfying), “If you don’t want him here, or if you don’t want him to see a thing you do, he’s out of here before anything can happen. Either way, he’s sworn to secrecy about this entire ordeal. He owes me, and I’m paying him. And I know you already feel fairly comfortable around him. He’s on his better-than-best behaviour.”

“I trust you,” you said, and Shinsou pulled this strange move where he lifted his hands just barely while he was still cupping your head to scratch it, and you rose to your tiptoes to follow him—the move, paired with his blunt nails on your scalp, had you feeling lightheaded, and you’ve only been here for about a minute (calm the fuck down, babe). “If you think Monoma will help me grow, then I’ll do it. Within reason.”

“All right. You can back out at any time, remember? Okay. Monoma, you first. On the bed.”

On the bed? Are you sure, Shinsou?

Monoma peeled off his TinTin socks and climbed onto Shinsou’s bed to sit at the head of it, and he contorted himself to pull his phone out of his back pocket to set it on the bedside table.

“Go on, then,” Shinsou said softly, prodding your lower back, “Sit between his legs. Just like you’ve done for me.”

Oof. Someone other than Shinsou? I mean. You guessed if it had to be someone other than Shinsou, you’d be the most comfortable around Monoma, but still. It’s as if there’s a heightened layer of friendship with you and Shinsou; it’s different than the relationship you have with Monoma and the relationships with other guys. Somehow, this felt weird.

“Okay, boss,” you said as a joke, and you watched Monoma for any of his many micro-expressions for a shred of disdain or judgment, as if he would tease you for calling Shinsou a title in a sensual/sexual context, even as a joke, but Monoma’s face was placid. No outward signs of malice. Instead, he made room for you between his legs, silent and languid all the way.

“Hee hoo ha,” you said instead of actually laughing, a knee on the mattress. “I suppose you’re aware that this is, like, second base for me. For the state I’m in. I’m fuckin’ calling you Neito from now on, now that you’re witnessing me being a slut.”

There’s no snide comment. Eyes-half lidded, Monoma calmly nodded, resting his hands on his thighs. “If that’s what you want.”

Oh, holy shit. Shinsou must have talked to him about how sensitive/delicate you were about this situation. Either that, or the pay is just that good.

Worried, you glanced back at Shinsou, but he just gestured with a loose flick of his fingers for you to keep going. So, you found yourself easing into a different man’s arms, and it’s instantly a list of comparisons: thighs still framing your pelvis but nowhere nearly as thick or long as Shinsou’s (and that tracked with what Monoma’s told you about how he wants a twink gymnast’s physique for his manoeuvrability in battle, along with Shinsou’s having seven centimetres on Monoma height-wise), somehow colder than Shinsou, not giving off as much body heat, his chin not fitting as well into the divot on your shoulder as Shinsou’s did—but his arms slid around your waist the same way Shinsou’s did, down to the positioning of what hand overlapped on top—Shinsou must have given specific instructions.

You figured that you don’t feel as safe as you feel when Shinsou’s holding you because Shinsou was bigger than you: bigger in presence, really, over physicality—though certain parts of him were objectively bigger, like how fucking long his fingers were and the overall size of his hands. Monoma, though, didn’t give as much of a large presence, but Monoma had said before that being unimposing and nimble worked better for him strategically. Either way.

Wow, yeah, Monoma really was holding you just like Shinsou did, without space between your legs and his, with his arms snugly around the upper curve of your waist, and his mouth pressed—but not puckered or kissing (a polite boy)—to your shoulder, on the shirt collar as close to the bare skin of your neck as possible without touching it.

“Fishy,” you said, glaring at Shinsou while tapping Monoma’s hand at your waist.

“I’m glad you noticed. Good detail work,” said Shinsou as he stowed away the Put Your Hands Up Radio laptop sleeve, and he crawled onto his bed.

As Shinsou pulled up a movie, you panicked and snapped your head back to look at Monoma. “Hey, are you okay with this? I don’t wanna impose on you if—”

“I’m fine,” said Monoma, blinking slowly, “I haven’t been told everything, because that’s your business, but I can garner that this is very important to you. And since you’re comfortable around me—though I don’t think anyone will ever lower your walls like Shinsou does—I knew I could do this for you. If it were anyone else besides me, you wouldn’t be as comfortable. Worry about me if you want, but it’ll be misplaced.”

You faced the front again and grimaced. “You two are acting fucking insane.”

Shinsou looked away from the screen for a moment. “No, baby,” he said, tapping the top of your foot, “We’re being careful. You deserve to be handled delicately.”

You didn’t know if it were his usage of baby or the skin-to-skin touch on your bare foot that made you jolt. Probably both.

(Because while you’ve been getting used to Shinsou touching you, it’s all been very face-waist-shoulders-arms. His hands haven’t gone below your stomach or to your boobs. So, yeah, while it was just your foot, he hasn’t been around that area yet. Startling.)

“If you say so,” you muttered, and you pressed back against Monoma, as if hiding from Shinsou’s comment—and, to be fair, the careful attention to you felt unusual, especially now that it was someone beyond Shinsou. “What are you going to do? Why have you got Monoma—”

You cut yourself off with a sharp inhale, chest tight and shoulders tense, when Shinsou placed his hands on your knees, and he said, “I want you to get used to a man between your legs.” Carefully watching your expression, Shinsou slowly parted your legs, keeping his hands near your knees and low on your thighs, and he crawled up to lie on his stomach between them, resting, for a moment, on his elbows, propping him upright on either side of your hips.

And you were fucking panicking. You’d steeled your expression the best you could, since Shinsou was watching, but you broke and couldn’t control it; your visible facial distress, you supposed, was hardly the giveaway when you were already stiff and tense, heart pounding, one hand gripping Monoma’s wrist so tightly his bones might grind together, pressing back into him while subtly backing away from Shinsou.

When Shinsou (pausing briefly but continuing, more cautiously, when you didn’t say anything) moved to wrap his arms around your hips and settled down against you to rest his head on your stomach, your breathing picked up, and your chest started heaving.

(C’mon, baby, it’s just a guy’s presence between your thighs. He’s not even touching you in a sexual way. He’s just there. You’ve even got the security of an extra friend, grounding you by touching you in a familiar way. Neither of these people [you weren’t even thinking of them as someone who might see you as a romantic or sexual target, but just as people] has ever done anything sincerely malevolent to you. By all accounts, you should be safe.

It shouldn’t be anything. It really shouldn’t be affecting you this much. Right?

[But when purity culture has been gnawing at you for a lifetime, it can be a lot just to spread your legs, let alone have someone between them.]

Damn Shinsou for being right.)

And Shinsou was peeling himself away from your stomach, reaching up to hold your face, to comfort you, to assure you it’s all right; he can move; you can do this another time or not at all, but it’s not really working. You kept squirming between both of them, unsure if you truly wanted to get away or be touched in a different way or anything at all: your brain had resorted to irrational anxiety.

In the back of your head, a reasonable voice noted that both of them were taking good care of you and that it made no sense for you to be writhing about like this (why weren’t you saying anything?!), but that voice never got loud enough for you to obey.

“Stay with me, sweetheart; stay here,” Shinsou was saying, moving back into a kneeling position to avoid physical contact with you where he could (but with the scant space, he could hardly avoid touching your thighs), shifting to hold only one of your hands, which he grasped desperately. “I’m gonna walk you through a grounding exercise, okay? And then when you’re ready, we can talk.”

Behind you, Monoma had been keeping a neutral presence, erasing himself when he couldn’t imitate Shinsou, and while he’d retracted his arms from around you so that you could escape, you were still trying to hide, almost, by retreating back against him. You caught it out of the corner of your eye but didn’t process the meaning until later: Monoma subtly manoeuvred his foot to graze Shinsou’s bare ankle.

And Monoma’s voice blended with Shinsou’s, warm breath ghosting over your ear. “Are you listening? You with us? Do you need us to go?”

You didn’t have any answers, and it was killing you. “I don’t know.”

It’d barely left your mouth before Monoma spoke. “Relax.”

Your brain emptied.

As if it unhinged itself from a latch and now hung loosely.

Into a comfortable, distant trance.

Body going limp. Muscles losing tension, as if you’d submerged yourself up to your chin in a hot bath. As if the tight spring that’s been coiled underneath your ribcage your whole life has now been reshaped by the touch of a forge you haven’t known, the hot, bright, molten metal oozing before it’s moulded into a gentler form. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a faint throbbing in the roof of your mouth.

You weren’t thinking, and it felt good.

You were barely able to hang onto even that observation, and therefore, you later had grace for yourself for not understanding what was happening between Shinsou and Monoma at the moment. In your floating, weightless distance, you absorbed the conversation but didn’t process it until much, much later.

You couldn’t be worried about their argument when you’d been told to relax, so the last hint of concern flew out of you before Shinsou ripped Monoma off of you and onto the floor. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Shinsou was whisper-shouting, his splayed hand pinning Monoma to the rug, “What the fuck? She’s never felt my quirk before; I’ve sworn I’d never use it on her, because it’d be—what the fuck is wrong with you, man? You said you’d fucking do what I said.”

Monoma was scrambling out from under Shinsou’s grip, and he let him go. “Fuck it, you never—you never told me that.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to? Jesus Christ, Monoma—”

“You saw her.” Monoma scowled and crossed his arms, plopping himself down in the desk chair. “I could feel her freaking out before you could see it, and it’s fucking heartbreaking, y’know? I didn’t—I felt fucking sorry for her and wanted her to be okay. That’s not a goddamn crime.”

“You forced her. You took away her agency and fucking forced—”

“Have you taken a look at her lately?” Monoma jerked his head in your direction. “Heard her talk about her soulmark? About her life recently? She’s only getting more stressed the longer this goes on. I want her to be able to relax, and I saw that I could give that to her.”

Shinsou paused, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

Monoma went on. “Listen, I’m sorry. And I’ll apologise to her once she comes back down, but honestly, I think she deserves the time away from this. I know she’s your girl, but she’s my friend, too, and I want her to have some shred of peace.”

Shinsou frowned. “Don’t say that. She’s not—she can’t be my girl; she’s got a soulmate out there.”

Scoffing, Monoma waved a dismissive hand. “Shut up. You were fucking showing off earlier when you were scratching her head. How you made her follow your hands when you lifted them. That’s some infatuated shit right there.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip. “You teach her to do that?”

Shinsou tentatively sat next to you on the bed—and you, floating somewhere distant, still registered his weight sinking into the mattress and his hand near your face without touching it. “I hope not,” he said, brow furrowed, “I…I generally enjoy being a bad influence, but in her case, I’m terrified that I actually am.” He raised his hand to cup your face, but he withdrew, fingers hesitantly curling into his palm. “I don’t want her to change to please me or anyone else.”

At this point, your vision started to black out, spots creeping in at your periphery. You have no recollection of what you did next, but considering how both Monoma and Shinsou avoided your gaze when you asked about it later, you must’ve actually done what they said. You apparently took his hand in both of yours to play with his long fingers and said in a slightly slurred voice, “You sound nervous. Don’t be nervous.” And you promptly stuck his first two fingers in your mouth, taking them as far back as you could go and sucking.

An alarmed Shinsou, mindful of your teeth, removed them as quickly as he could, but neither he nor Monoma could erase their looks of shock before you dozed off.

***

You’d woken up nine hours later, with Shinsou asleep on the floor next to the bed and Monoma sleeping upright in the chair, arms crossed. They’d stumbled over each other in their apologies, but since you were feeling more well-rested than you have for the last ten years, you couldn’t bring yourself to be truly mad. Irritated, sure, but that’s inevitable.

You nibbled on the thumbprint cookies Monoma had made for you in the interim while they both empathically apologised, over and over and over. You still weren’t all the way there, but it was on purpose this time.

Because Shinsou’s quirk had felt absolutely fucking fantastic. And he’s been keeping it from you.

You’re confused, really, because if it’s got that mind-numbing pleasure tint to it, why’s he doling it out to others but not you? He’s said recently that he didn’t want you to get dependent on it, but that’s…that’s only an excuse he’s given since the soulmate incident. Otherwise, he just hasn’t, with no explanation. Has he leaked a clue somewhere along the way?

Nevertheless. His quirk had sponge-dabbed at your brain, washing and making it new while you were under its control. Your mind has felt cluttered and cramped for years, and his quirk ushered in spring cleaning, opening windows and letting in light.

Oh, no.

***

YOU

i found your so-called dom hype playlist. you didn’t even make it private!!!

YOU

why is it just the naruto soundtrack over and over again

HITOSHI 💜🍡

:(

HITOSHI 💜🍡

it makes me feel powerful :(

***

Though your gut was urging you to stay, you wanted nothing more than to go home.

Classes 3-A and 3-B had an undercover mission in four days, with all of you sectioned off into teams for quashing PLF bases spread across the country. One of the base locations was a high-end club, and those who were assigned there (Asui and Todoroki) had never been to a club before, a group of you were at a club tonight to help them get used to the environment.

Still early in the night, you had been among the few who hadn’t the courage to go dance first thing, so you had volunteered to guard bags and coats at the enormous table you’d commandeered towards the back, away from the music, close to the bar, and now with mismatched chairs shoved closely to make enough space.

Shinsou was only just now finally getting back from the crowded bar, his beer and your pink lemonade in hand, with Ojiro in tow, babbling and gesturing wildly.

You moved your bag so that Shinsou could sink into the blue leather loveseat next to you, and he nodded towards you, staying engaged in Ojiro’s conversation. Oh, yikes, Hagakure was there, too; you just didn’t see her—she’s strategically wearing something nearly translucent.

Thumbing at the condensation, you stared into your glass, cloud-shaped ice bobbing in pink, when Hagakure (presumably) grabbed Ojiro’s face to kiss him, and his tongue appeared to be inside her mouth. Shinsou glanced towards you, checking in, and when you made a mild, furtive look of oof, he leaned in towards you.

(“A club? We should go,” Shinsou had said, nudging your shoulder with his, “I want you to practise a greater level of casual touching while in public.”

“But we’ll be with our classmates this time,” you’d said, slumping down onto the picnic blanket you’d spread out on the roof of Class B’s dorm, “They’ll notice.”

Shinsou had flicked a straw wrapper into your hair. “Sure. And then it won’t be such an abrupt surprise when you do it with your soulmate.”

You’d rolled away from him, taking some of the picnic blanket with you. “But what if they see me be vulnerable?”

“I’ll keep that from happening. You have the perfect cop-out, too: you can always claim you were drunk.”

You’d peeled one of the heels of your palms from your eyes. “I…guess. I guess.”

“Anything you want to do to me is fine,” Shinsou had said, tearing the blanket away from you and smoothing it out again, “But I want you to start thinking about something else we’ll try soon. I’m giving you the choice of what to do, since it’ll be a bit more intense.”

“Intense?”

“Ah.” Giving up, Shinsou had shaken his head and had lain down next to you. “I misspoke. Intimate would’ve probably been better.”

You’d sighed and flipped towards him. “Lay it on me.”

Shinsou had counted off on his fingers, starting with his pinkie to irritate you. “Skinny dipping. I’d ensure no one could walk in on us, and I wouldn’t look at you, if you didn’t want me to. We could play strip poker or variations thereof—and once again, we could play it in some way that I wouldn’t be able to see you if you didn’t want, but you’d get used to being—being less clothed in the presence of a man.”

“That’s assuming I’d lose.”

Shinsou had cracked a smile. “So it is. Or I could undress you, and I—I could wear a blindfold, or something, if you didn’t—”

“Do you have one handy?”

Shinsou had propped his chin on his fist. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Any other options?”

Here Shinsou had looked away, instead staring into the night sky. “I—I was considering, if you’d let me, touching your boobs as an option, but that felt like a level more intense than the others. More personal. And I’ve concluded you aren’t there yet. Or at the point at which you could try sitting on my lap to get me hard.”

“Hitoshi, you’re insane. You’re going at it from too many angles.”

“Nah,” Shinsou had said, tilting his head towards you, “I want you to be comfortable, however we do this.”)

Shinsou’s hot breath unfurled down your neck as he whispered, “Use me. In any way you want.”

You smacked him in the chest, and he winced, clutching the spot as he grinned at you. “That’s fair,” he said.

For a while, the back table housed only Hagakure, probably grinding on Ojiro’s lap, Ojiro, whose tail shot straight up and stayed there, and you and Shinsou, smushed together on the leather loveseat, talking in hushed tones, starting with when he was going to return your copy of Fire and Hemlock and somehow ending up at which pokemon the top pro-heroes would eat.

When the others settled around the table in a break from dancing, you low-key mourned the loss of the privacy you’d had with Shinsou; it had been kind of cool that in this deafening, crowded place that you and Shinsou had had a moment alone, even with a couple actively making out beside you. No one else could fit on the loveseat, but even with enough space elsewhere, some soulmate-bound couples still overlapped, like how Mina and Kirishima were squished together in one chintz armchair and how Jirou had her legs splayed over Yaoyorozu’s lap in the next folding chair over.

You zoned out for a while—everyone else was talking at once, anyway, so that gave you leave to consider if Hawks would have a preferred evolution of Pigeot to deep-fry. But you were snapped back into reality when Aoyama suggested that the group should play truth or dare.

“Fuck no,” said Sero, slapping a hand over Kaminari’s mouth, “How old are we? Where are we? Get your head out of your ass.”

“And we’ve otherwise been working our asses off doing the boring prep for this mission, Sero, and we’re supposed to be having fun tonight, anyway,” said Mina, her tongue darting out to lick the salt around the rim of her glass, “I think we should.”

“I don’t want—look, it always goes the same way,” said Sero, and he let his hand fall from Kaminari’s mouth but still gripped his shoulder in a tight threat. “It’s either you get dared to perform some fuckin’ gross or sexual act, or you have to tell everyone who you like. We’ve moved past primary school, so I’m not—”

“Then we just change the base rules.” Kaminari didn’t bother dodging Sero’s thwack to his head. “We make it sort of reversed. Where truth is the more dangerous one to pick, and dare is extremely low stakes. There’s super personal shit that no one needs to know that I’m dying to know about some of you.” Kaminari lowered his heart-shaped glasses and stared pointedly across the table at Iida, Uraraka, you, and Shinsou in turn.

Kaminari’s proposal assuaged most issues the table had, so it came down to you and Shinsou as the ones still not wanting to play.

“Too dangerous,” said Shinsou, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head, “There are things that are my business only.”

“Yeah,” you said, sucking in through your teeth, “I’m not—I’m not into this. Plus, I’m really tired already, and, like, if we have to play something, can’t we think of a better game to play? This is—this is so fucking cliché.”

“Never mind,” Shinsou said quickly, giving you a strange look and letting his arms fall to his lap as he sat up straight, “I desperately want to play truth or dare. In fact, I demand it.”

Laughing, Kaminari reached over the table for Midoriya’s drained beer bottle (having to wrestle it from his grasp) and cleared out a space for it in the middle of the table, while you shrunk down in your seat, wishing you’d brought a book. Because—the bottle was spun—it could keep landing on the same person, meaning more focus could be on a single person than in a turn-based version of the game.

With the bottle landing first on Todoroki, Kaminari pulled no punches once truth was chosen: “Of your three closest friends, would you fuck any of them?”

Contrary to everyone else, Todoroki hardly reacted, instead his brow furrowing in thought. “I’m so fortunate to have so many friends,” he said carefully, “I’m not quite certain who would consider themselves closest to me.”

Uraraka grinned. “Well, who would you consider the closest?”

“Gracious,” said Todoroki, blinking, “I’m very lucky. My friends are so good to me. I—”

“Is he dodging the question or genuinely being weird about it?” Kirishima asked.

“Oh,” said Todoroki, “Well. My answer would be yes, I suppose. It would be wonderful that they’d believe themselves close enough to me to consider asking.”

“You fascinate me,” said Mina, reaching over to pat him on the head, “I want to study you like a bug in a jar.”

“You wouldn’t initiate?” Sero asked over Todoroki’s spinning the bottle, and Todoroki shook his head. “Valid.”

When it landed on Uraraka, she chose dare. “Hm,” said Todoroki, “Low stakes. I…You are dared to rest your head on Midoriya’s shoulder.”

Nearly in his lap, Uraraka was already almost doing that, anyway, so she complied.

From then on, you wanted to melt into the cracks in the floor and evaporate, even though the bottle hadn’t landed on you. All of the questions weren’t being phrased in a way that could fit someone like you—all questions assumed everyone’s had sex already, that everyone has some sort of sordid, sexual history, and good God, it sounded like everyone present did, to an extent (except for, perhaps, Todoroki, whose answers only spurred more questions). Even if their only sexual partner were their soulmate, the picture was painted that everyone was doing what you considered, to put it mildly, risky.

The most bizarre place Kaminari has jerked off was in a sewer, while he was staking out a suspect, with Pro-Hero Manual not far down the path. Midoriya’s favourite sex positions had to be looked up by the rest of the table, so for a delightful moment while Midoriya glowed beet red, everyone else hunched over their phones. Mina has given head in the recording booth for Put Your Hands Up Radio (“Everything was turned off, guys—except for Eijiro.”). Jirou would rather orgasm during oral rather than actual intercourse, and out of on a beach, a plane, or in the bathroom of a high-end restaurant, Yaoyorozu would prefer to have sex on a beach, because—she added unnecessarily—she’ll never have sex on a plane or bathroom again. After hearing that Kaminari would kill to muzzle someone, you concluded that you may be living in a different reality than the rest of your friends, and then the bottle pointed towards you.

You didn’t want to play. You didn’t want to admit anything. You didn’t even know what they’d get out of you—besides the fact that you’re a big-ass virgin, you supposed, and that would only open the floor to an awkward soulmate explanation. “Dare,” you said, sighing.

Narrowing his eyes, Kaminari tilted his head. The only other dares so far had been Uraraka’s head-resting and Sero to hold hands with Iida, which they were still doing, hands on the table between their drinks (Iida had made them swop seats so that his dominant hand could be free). “Riiiiight. I dare you to sit in Shinsou’s lap.”

Do what.

Shinsou turned towards you, brow furrowed with a quirk of the corner of his mouth to check if you were okay with it, if you were comfortable, and you sighed again, your shoulders heaving. “I guess,” you said, and you started to shift over but halted mid-movement. “Sit in lap how? Sideways? Straddling? Other way I don’t know?”

Eyes flicking around the table before settling back on you, Shinsou opened his arms and said, “Sideways is fine. I’ll help you—and don’t worry; you’re not bothering me.”

Holding your breath under everyone’s gaze, you climbed into his lap, crawling across his legs and then flipping, your ass mostly on one of his thighs while your legs draped across his other leg and into your old seat, and—holy fuck, Shinsou’s thighs were so thick that you sat a little taller than he did; you could put your chin on top of his head if you really wanted to, oh, my God. What the fuck. Shinsou must have seen the incredulity in your expression, because he guided one of your arms around his shoulders, to fit more comfortably in the space, while he wrapped an arm around your hips to stabilise you, fingers lightly pressing at a belt loop of your jeans, and with his other hand, he held yours in your own lap.

Jesus fucking Christ. You’re not going to make it out alive.

You needed time to process this, but you were denied it; you had to ask a question to Uraraka, since the bottle had landed on her again, and so you popped out what the table groaned to be the lamest question of the night: “Who’s in your ideal celebrity threesome?”

“Huh.” Uraraka steepled her fingers together. “Togashi Yoshihiro, in his prime…and Hawks.”

Kirishima screwed up his face. “Who the hell is Togashi—”

“He’s the mangaka for Hunter x Hunter,” said Todoroki pointedly, before closing his lips around the straw in his mostly drained strawberry daquiri and making a strident suction sound against the glass.

Kirishima screwed up his face more. “I get that writing a shounen manga can be manly, but why else would you choose specifically—”

“Because he pulled Takeuchi Naoko, the mangaka for Sailor Moon, even with his filthy apartment, poor fashion choices, bad posture, and questionable hygiene. The dick must be insane, in a rat-boy sort of way,” Uraraka was saying, running her hands through Midoriya’s hair, “Plus, he’ll feel insecure in comparison to perpetually charismatic Hawks, so there will be some sort of pathetic, competitive air to the sexual encounter.”

And then Uraraka was spinning the bottle, thank God, so any involvement with you ended. Shinsou—he could probably hear your fucking heartbeat going crazy from being paid attention from everyone else in a sexual context—rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, softly smiling up at you to calm you down, and something inside you caved. You had the impulse to curl into him, to close your eyes and press your mouth to his hairline, to ignore the rest of the group until it was time to go (Shinsou would keep you safe), but you couldn’t obey it, because the bottle pointed towards…you and Shinsou.

Squeezing your hand, Shinsou steeled himself (thighs flexing underneath you) and said, “That’s me. I don’t believe I’m in any position to complete a dare at the moment, so. Truth.”

“Oh, fabulous,” said Uraraka, clapping her hands once, “There’s so much I’ve been waiting to get out of you. What’s the most pertinent…hm.”

“Want some help?” asked Mina, leaning over Kirishima’s bicep and the armrest, holding her drink at a hazardous angle (Kirishima lifted it out of her hand to set it on the table when Mina leant further away).

After Mina had whispered in Uraraka’s ear for a minute, Uraraka returned her attention to Shinsou, biting the inside of her cheek to conceal her delight but practically beaming regardless. “What’s the most you’ve ever made someone come in one night?”

Shinsou’s eyebrows shot upward, his tongue flicking over his lower lip (and you tensed up. The hand at your hip squeezed it gently). “One night? Fourteen.”

“What the fuck.”

“That can’t be true. You’re fucking making that up.”

“With toys? With your quirk, right?”

“No quirk. Not really,” said Shinsou, bowing his head slightly, and he bit his lower lip, his teeth showing for a second when his lip curled in. “I happen to be very, very, very good with my mouth.”

Silence. In it, Shinsou briefly released your hand to spin the bottle himself, and he took it again as the bottle turned, threading his fingers through yours. Blankly, he bumped his forehead against your shoulder, like a cat, before a tired, half-grin stretched across his face. You returned it, fighting the urge to play with his hair.

But then your luck ran out for the next year or so. Perhaps your whole lifetime. For some reason, the bottle kept landing on you and/or Shinsou, and he kept speaking up to save you from answering. The relief and gratitude that flooded you each time Shinsou covered for you only made you wish you could do something for him, too—you could rent his favourite Everest documentary from the library again, get those bizarre sour jawbreakers from the Mom ’n’ Pop gas station in his home district…lie with him in your bed…play with his hair before he puts the mousse in…

What was his favourite position to give oral?

“Kneeling,” Shinsou said so quickly it was a bit startling, and he shifted underneath you, sitting forward. “Kneeling, with them on the edge of their seat, legs spread a bit too widely than what they’re comfortable with for them so that they feel exposed. They can’t touch me unless I let them, and I won’t. They have to ask permission to look.”

Okay, bucko, a follow-up of how you like to receive oral?

“I don’t, generally,” said Shinsou, tilting his head, “because if it’s about me, then my partner isn’t getting as much pleasure as they should be getting. But if they insist, it’s however they want to.”

No, idiot, this isn’t about your partners. This is about you.

“Fuck you. I have to be lying down, or close to it, because my knees tend to buckle if I come from oral.”

If your partner were going to send you a video, what could they do to make it turn you on the most?

“Oh, huh.” Shinsou shifted so that he could scratch the back of his head, and you moved your arm out of the way for the gesture. “First of all, I wouldn’t want my partner to send me anything like that. No nudes, or anything. Because that’s private. That’s intimate. That could get leaked or hacked, and really, her body would be for my eyes only,” said Shinsou, his eyes half-lidded, “In addition, odds are that any video wouldn’t live up to the real thing, so I wouldn’t want it. Just makes the ache worse. Besides, I’m the only one allowed to tease.”

You’re ridiculous. Fine, if the video would never be shared with anyone else, guaranteed, and it lived up to seeing them in person, what would that look like?

“Just my partner saying that she loves me, preferably after she’s just woken up. Sorry to disappoint, if you were expecting something kinkier.”

Spit or swallow?

“Offended that you have to ask.”

You were growing antsy—antsy on the cusp of hyperaware and jittery. Something about the night had gone stale, like you were at a high altitude without enough oxygen. Something about the way some people were reacting—Jirou’s controlled, stone-cold expression (pinched brows and shifting jaw to hint that it took focus to stay that way) paired with Yaoyorozu’s letting her hair down to hide her red-tipped ears, Mina’s constant, excited whispers alternating between Kirishima and Uraraka, Midoriya’s seeming lack of surprise to Shinsou’s answers while he peeled the label off of his fresh bottle. Were they acting like this because they wanted to contain themselves hearing it for the first time, or have any of them—any of them witnessed any of it? Shinsou had said that people you knew had enlisted him to dom for them, and…you didn’t know. Something about it didn’t feel right. Yes, these were your friends, and you loved them, but something about their seeing a part of Shinsou that you haven’t got under your skin. Your friends may love Shinsou, but you love him more.

“Hey, babe,” Shinsou said under his breath, while the bottle spun again, “I need you to let up a little, okay? You’re getting a little too tight.”

You looked down at Shinsou and shook yourself; you’d unconsciously been constricting your arm around the back of his neck, pulling his face near your boobs. You relaxed your arm for him to lean back.

“I also—” He set his hand on your knee, stilling it (how long have you been jostling it?). “—need you to stop fidgeting, if you don’t mind.”

The bottle was slowing, but Kaminari missed it entirely to stare over his martini glass at Shinsou’s mouth. With a glint of pale pink club lighting flashing over Kaminari as his eyes dropped to Shinsou’s chest, you were pierced with an icicle-cold awareness of the bulge under your thigh you’ve been too nervous to acknowledge, and a full-bodied shiver swept through you.

You pulled away from Shinsou, frowning down at him. “I do mind, actually. Come with me somewhere?”

“Of course,” said Shinsou, and he helped you off of his lap, ignoring the bottle and the protests of your friends. You couldn’t look back at him, lest you lose your nerve, but you grabbed his hand and led him through the club, shoes sticking on the beer-soaked floor, weaving through dancers and bar patrons until you ended up in some empty, mildewed corridor with one flickering, fluorescent light.

You spun on your heel, grit grinding under your shoe. You had no plan, but what came out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep in your gut, sounded right. “I need you to bite me.”

Shinsou blinked in time with the light flickering. “I’m sorry?”

“A love bite. A hickey, or whatever,” you said, and, taking his hands, you placed them on your own shoulders and made him push you against the wall, with the crackly dust under peeling wallpaper shook onto your sleeve even from the slight impact. “The next step you wanted me to think about. I choose this.”

“Oh.” Glowering towards the floor, Shinsou stuck his hands in his pockets, his mind somewhere else, but he recovered, face softening, and took a step closer to you. “All right,” he said cautiously, fiddling with his jacket zipper, “Is there—where do you want it?”

You were about to say the top of your left boob, since the low cut of your shirt allowed it, but an intrusive thought struck you, bringing to the surface the memory of Shinsou’s voice over the phone: I like to take advantage of the vulnerability of an exposed neck.

When you raised a finger over the pulse point on your neck, Shinsou froze, stilling all movement. Even the rise and fall of his chest halted for a moment. After a long beat, he snapped out of his distant haze, his Adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed. “Got it. I can do that.”

When Shinsou put his hands on your waist, you understood why people fight wars over people like him. Light and hesitant at first, his hands fell into their full weight at your silent encouragement, encompassing so much more of you than you’d thought, steadying you against the wall and back in reality. Drumming his fingers on your waist, Shinsou ducked his head, shot you a sliver of a smile, and pressed his lips to your neck.

His lips were cold. But Shinsou always ran cold, you told yourself, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that this dry, close-mouthed kiss to your neck was—oh. His lips parted (smoothly and a bit stickily; you’d seen him re-apply his coconut-pear beeswax chapstick at the bar), pressing more fervently against your neck as his tongue made the first sweep over your skin. He curved the tip of his tongue for the second lap, spreading more saliva over the spot, and at his first suck, your hands flew up to grip his biceps. You felt his mouth curl into a smirk and his quiet hum, and you, mildly embarrassed, slid your hands from his arms up around his neck, one of them sliding into his hair to press him further into your neck—he broke off to laugh under his breath, a heated huff brushing over the wet spot on your neck.

“You okay?” he asked, adjusting hold on your waist, one hand easing down to the small of your back and inching upwards between your shirt and your coat, his whole, flattened hand weighing down and warming you.

“I’m fine,” you said, keeping his head tucked in your neck so that he couldn’t see whatever embarrassing face you were making, “Keep going?”

“I’m gonna have to use my teeth now. Just a warning,” said Shinsou, and at your tap on the back of his head, he returned his mouth to your neck and sucked.

You inhaled sharply and gripped the back of his collar, crumpling it, while his tongue laved over the spot between sucks, hot and cold, pressure and release, and Shinsou pulled you tightly against him, his jacket zipper cool through the fabric of your shirt. He was lightly nibbling, gentle and barely there, between harsh sucks, the spot aching and raw, and he bared more of his teeth, letting the length of a few brush against you as an alert—and he sank his teeth into your skin, sucking, lips smushed to the tenderer wet insides.

“Holy shit, Hitoshi.”

When he pulled back, Shinsou licked his lips, his eyes glued to the spot on your neck. He swiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Looks good.”

“That fucking hurt.” Releasing him, you ran your fingers over the spot, unable to tell any different aside from moisture and the slightest swell.

Shinsou raised an eyebrow and stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “It is a bite. Bites tend to—”

“Oh, shut up.” You fussed with the collars of your shirt and coat, wanting to frame the bite. “Help me out?”

Shinsou’s crooked grin returned. “You want it on display?” He adjusted your lapels for you. “Someone’s cheeky. Don’t tell me you were—”

“Don’t say it, fucker,” you said, deliberately averting your gaze to stare at the fluorescent light.

It took you the whole process of Shinsou arranging your shirt and coat, the shared grins, the navigating back through the sweaty throng, leading him by the hand, his cool one in yours, beat to some bubble-pop song pulsing in your ears and chest, and plopping back onto the loveseat at the group table to realise two things: one, that he’d been himself throughout that whole thing. He’d been joking, reacting like your friend instead of your dom. Like Hitoshi instead of that Shinsou you didn’t know. The dom persona had slipped away in a flash, or it hadn’t even entered the equation. So quick a transition, from what he’d been showing to the group to how he behaved around you. Had he noticed? Was it intentional?

And two: you really wanted to mark him back.

***

You dangled your legs off of 3-B’s dormitory roof, full of self-loathing and nervous energy. Stressed enough to fight the urge to exfoliate with a cheese grater all the way down to the bone.

The hickey had worked. No one had said a word about you or Shinsou the rest of the game. In fact, as soon as you got back, the game ended within a turn. Kaminari had opened his mouth, probably to ask where you’d been, but his eyes fell to your neck, and he shut his mouth, turning his attention to Sero and clamping his hand over Sero’s and Iida’s. The rest of your friends had behaved similarly, acting like nothing was wrong. It’d given you immense satisfaction, and you’d grinned into your refill of pink lemonade; you hadn’t noticed until the end of the night that Shinsou’s arm had been around you, resting in a divot in the leather on the back of the loveseat, running behind your shoulders. Felt good to be special.

Gritting your teeth, you clenched the edge of the roof, knuckles showing. Why it felt so good—you didn’t want to put it into words. If you did, that made it real.

Instead, you’d recruited Monoma to help you in a last-ditch effort to find your soulmate. You’ve been going through your old shit from freshman year, trying to find any record of someone calling you an ice princess. Or a bitch, or something along those lines. Since Monoma’s better at tech stuff, he’s been combing through everyone’s social media dated from the first semester at U.A., searching for any pictures of you or anything that could be vague-posting. You’ve even bothered Aizawa for the old seating chart and records of some of the earliest group exercises, though those weren’t appearing fruitful, either.

Mirio was watching Eri today, so Monoma and you were camping out on B’s rooftop, spreading out the blanket you and Shinsou usually used, with your laptops and old notebooks strewn across it. Monoma was currently taking a short break to make popcorn, so he’d be back in a few minutes.

It wasn’t enough. But you’ve involved another person, so you might as well see it through—but you wanted to quit looking. Fuck it if your memory were faulty and that you couldn’t remember who said your words to you. They didn’t matter.

(Fuck, no, don’t allow yourself to put it into words.)

([You can’t stop what’s already happening. You can’t kill a thought once it’s made its home in your head.])

(Yeah, so shut the fuck up. Don’t think it. Distract yourself. Keep searching for your—)

([—soulmate, whom you didn’t care to meet, because you had feelings for somebody else.])

***

YOU

hey y’know that page where ua students can submit anonymous confessions???

YOU

i found me in a post. in freshman year and everything

YOU

says that i’m a “frigid bitch who needs to pull the column outta [my] ass”

MONOMA 🔇🎭

oh lolololol don’t worry about that one

YOU

???

MONOMA 🔇🎭

I submitted that lol

YOU

drop your location right now so that i can come rip you to shreds

***

Once you acknowledged them, your feelings peeled you like a grape. No, more like—more like someone’s scraping away the outside of a pineapple with their fingernails, juice occasionally getting through, but mostly just a mess of spikes and sticky fingers, with the conclusion that it would’ve been easier to smash the damn thing.

Bad. Bad feeling. Evil, even. Shinsou trusted you, as a friend, and you’ve gone and put him in the romance zone. You’ve put him in a category he wouldn’t want to be in. Bad and evil and diabolical. Life-ruining. Relationship-ruining. You might lose him, and that would snap you in half like a raw carrot.

“Baby, you’re just staring at the bell peppers,” said Shinsou, leaning on the shopping cart, jolting you out of your reverie, “Pick two and c’mon. Everyone else has left the produce section; they’re over towards seafood.”

“Th—thanks,” you said, shakily accepting the plastic bag Shinsou handed you, but you made no move towards the bell peppers. “Why don’t you catch up? I can finish here.” And maybe process your thoughts enough to make a decision.

Shinsou smiled, standing upright to stretch his arms above his head. “Nah. What else do we need over here? I can get it for you.” Good God. His shirt rode up just enough to reveal a dark, violet line of hair trailing upwards, a soft line suggesting abs framing it, a thick waistband of a popular brand of boxers peeking out of his plaid pants. Stomach as salvation. Your eyes bulged and glazed over, but you shook yourself out of it.

“Uh,” you said intelligently, “Potatoes. Those mad small ones.” You made a circle with your middle finger and thumb as a measure. “Around this size.”

“Gotcha,” said Shinsou, already spinning around to scan the produce, “They come in purple; is it cool if we use those?”

“Of course,” you said, miles away somewhere, freezing and back in bed underneath a nest of blankets, with Shinsou tucked in next to you, his arms around you with his mouth to the back of your neck.

Oh, you’re fucked fucked.

You normally took normal bell peppers and normally put them into the plastic bag, like a normal person, and twisted it normally to seal them in, setting the bag in the toddler seat of the cart in a normal way. You’re good. You’re fine.

(How do you act around him? Is this how you typically behave around Shinsou?)

You have questions about his behaviour, too. Because you’ve looked back on your sessions with him, and the further they’ve gone along, the less stern the dom act has been. He’s been more and more like how he normally behaves around you, just with the addition of physical contact. Have you been making him be a poor dom, because he’s so used to you? He might not even realise that he’s slipping. Subconsciously, his behaviour has made it feel real to you, instead of as a service he does professionally, because he’s just been…himself.

You’re breaking that rule he establishes with other clients, which was not to develop feelings. He didn’t have this rule with you, but he’ll probably stop the sessions if he finds out.

You wanted Shinsou, just as he was. Yes, the dom persona was hot, but it was essentially just a door into your true feelings and wanting to touch him for real. If his dom act were slipping in your sessions, you’ll take it—it’s probably the closest you’ll ever have to being truly intimate and romantic with him without ruining your friendship.

Your heart skittered at the sight of Shinsou returning to the cart, bag of tiny, purple potatoes large enough to share with the class heaved in both arms, and you joined in his laughter at the pathetic, tinny noise he’d made lugging the bag into the cart. Shinsou commandeered pushing the cart from you, edging you off of the handle, but when you wouldn’t let up, he kissed your cheek. Frozen, you let him take the cart from you, and he hastily proceeded towards seafood, not looking back.

To keep the sessions going, you’d have to pretend you’re still looking for your soulmate.

The sessions could occur more frequently if you pretended the game of truth or dare made you feel like you’re falling behind.

***

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thanks, Neito. Care to offer any solutions?”

“No,” Monoma said, bending back over his laptop, “but I’ll start searching for other Shinsou Hitoshis so that you can kick their asses.”

You gestured for him to keep it down, jerking your head in Eri’s direction. She was watching Monoma’s Japanese-dubbed, extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring, holding her unicorn-kitten doll in her lap, sitting atop the booster seat cushion for her spot on Aizawa’s couch. “If Aizawa-sensei hears Eri swearing, he’ll blame us.”

“Not my—” He cut himself off, wincing. “You’re right. I’ll keep the cursing to a minimum. But if you murder any other Shinsou Hitoshis that exist, then, de facto, he’ll no longer have a soulmate, and you can get with him.”

You sighed, sinking into one of Aizawa’s worn armchairs. “I’m not gonna resort to violence.”

Pursing his lips, Monoma shut his laptop for dramatic effect. “But you’ll resort to compromising your morals and fucking him.”

“Keep quiet,” you said, swatting at Monoma and missing, “I’m not gonna—how else am I—”

“I just don’t think you should.”

“I’m not gonna have—have sex with…”

Monoma sucked in through his teeth, reaching into his bag of trail mix. “You’re not emotionally ready,” he said, shaking his head, “If you added sex to the stuff you’re going through right now, you’d explode.”

“I know that,” you said, slumping down in your seat. You shot a mournful look towards Monoma, and you held out your hand for trail mix. “I…I don’t wanna have sex at this point in my life. I just don’t think it’s—I want to do it eventually, yeah. But not right now. I’m tired.”

He tilted the bag into your hand, shaking some out. “I understand. Why don’t you say fuck the soulmate shit and be with Shinsou regardless?”

“I don’t wanna take any shred of happiness from him,” you said, crunching, “If he has a chance at happiness with his soulmate, he deserves it.” You swallowed thickly. “I’m guilty as hell for wasting his time like this, but I admit that I’m selfish. I want him all to myself.” You picked through the mix you had in your palm. “I feel horrible about it,” you said softly, “but if I want to keep his attention in these sessions, I think I have to up the ante, at least a little.”

Grimacing, Monoma shoved his hand in the bag of trail mix. “Who put that in your head?”

***

YOU

want to try sexting????

HITOSHI 💜🍡

no <3

***

Against Monoma’s advice, you were going to make a move on Shinsou under the false pretences of soulmate preparation. Which, you supposed, wasn’t too different from what you’d been doing, but now you were deceiving him.

Shinsou could always notice when you were nervous or insincere in person, so you resolved to do it over the phone. Building up the courage to call him took half an hour of staring at your phone, face down on your bedspread, the whole decision-making process taking longer than usual, because the person you’d usually consult for advice was the very person you were going to call.

When you finally unlocked your phone and pressed the call button on his contact, your fingers darted to turn on the speaker, and you tossed your phone towards the foot of your bed, skibbling backwards away from it as if it were a slippery lizard you’d found in your sheets.

Six trills of the dial tone later, Shinsou answered, fumbling his phone, by the sound of it, and out of breath. “Hello?”

God, his panting reverberating throughout your dorm room made your heart race, and you needed to be in control for what you’re about to say. You scrambled to pick up your phone to switch off the speaker and hold it to your ear. “Hi, Hitoshi.”

“Yeah, hi.” With his rumbly, winded voice low in your ear, it was as if he were standing next to you, instead of near a busy street, judging by the rush of cars passing in the background and the skid of tires. “What’s up?”

Okay. You are strong and brave, and you can do this. You can and will be this ridiculous man’s personal whore in the name of love. “Hitoshi,” you said, letting a whine creep into your voice, “When are you coming home? I need you.” Hopefully, he couldn’t hear your cringe when you said those things.

You could, however, hear his frown when he spoke. “I,” he said, pausing, and you could easily picture the crease between his eyebrows, “I’ll be home soon. I’m out on my bike. What’s the matter? Are you hurt?”

“A little. I don’t know quite what’s wrong with me, but I really, really miss you, so much, and I need you to come home now so that I—fuck.” You took a slow, controlled breath, and when you came back down, words that weren’t your own spilled out of your mouth, pulled from somewhere deep inside you—as if they were a surfacing whale carcass from the Mariana Trench of your stomach (the loose script Monoma had helped you draft lay forgotten). “’Toshi, I’ll be real with you. I need something in my mouth. I need your strong hands spreading my thighs. I need your mouth on my boobs, licking and sucking up until you can bite the side of my neck. I need to watch you touch yourself, to see how you make yourself feel good and learn how I can do the same. It’s a side of you I don’t know. It’s a side you haven’t let me in. I need to know what all you’re capable of, because I know you’re capable of teaching me, of corrupting me, and I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Three cars honked in quick succession in the background while Shinsou stayed silent. “Who put you up to this.”

“Nobody. No one can tell me what I want. And I want all of you.”

“Bullshit. That’s fucking bullshit. Tell me who’s been pressuring you to have sex. You wouldn’t want this with me otherwise.” Shinsou wasn’t panting anymore. His voice was stony and flat.

“Is it that hard to believe that I want you of my own volition?” you asked, and you covered yourself with your throw blanket, burrowing out of sight, even though he’s halfway across town. “Are you saying I’m not capable of making this decision?”

“No,” Shinsou said, “I simply don’t think you would. It’s—it doesn’t line up with what I know about you.”

That’s fine. That’s why you have a fake motive. “I’m tired of being so far behind the rest of our friends. It makes me feel so small and immature, hearing them talk about things I haven’t experienced, and the game we played at the club proved how far beyond me they are.” You swopped your phone to your other ear so that you could lie down on your preferred side, and you snuggled into one of your stuffed animals. “I—I don’t want my soulmate to be embarrassed by me or unsatisfied with what I can do. I just want to be good enough. You’re my lifeline, Hitoshi. You can give me what I can’t give myself.”

“Fuck off with that. Soulmates aren’t—hold on. My helmet’s getting in the way.” Rustling and the click of a strap, and Shinsou’s voice came in more clearly—and he overenunciated each syllable, signalling that he was growing livid. “Soulmates aren’t all about sex. Life isn’t all about sex. I’ve been holding back the entire time we’ve been dealing with this soulmate shit, because telling you what I really think only bounces the fuck off your stubborn ass: I honestly think what you’ve been doing with me in the name of your soulmate is fuckin’ psychotic. Everyone lives a different timeline; there’s no standard for when a so-called life event is supposed to happen, if it happens at all,” said Shinsou, “You can graduate university at 90 and have your first kiss at 45 and learn to ride a bike when you’re 23. It’s fine if you never check all the boxes. You’ve never been behind. You are your own, on your own path, at your own pace. So, please, don’t rush into love, baby.”

Baby. He called you baby. He’d done it before, but now, you craved it. You cherished it. You could pretend it was real. “If you really thought it was a bad idea,” you said, eyes fluttering shut, entertaining the thought of Shinsou being there with you, spooning you and calling you baby softly in your ear, “why—why did you go along with it? Why did you offer?”

Shinsou huffed into the phone, and the sound was familiar enough for you to picture his expression as he did it: pursed lips, scrunched nose, dark eyes. “Because otherwise, you might have gone to someone who might hurt you. Because when some people hear that there’s a virgin in a vulnerable position, depending on them, they can lose sight of the person in front of them, instead fetishizing the corruption of virginity, because—because do you know how much the idea of teaching a virgin how to love you and only you drips with sexuality? People go crazy, sweetheart. Virginity can—it can attract the wrong people, and it can repulse the wrong people. You shouldn’t be with anyone who sees something like that as a problem.”

God, he’s so nice. He’s so compassionate. You were arguing with Shinsou over, essentially, his decision to be kind to you. What a dependable fucker. Why can’t he be your soulmate? “So, you’ve been holding back from telling me all of this. Anything else you’ve been holding back? Any other information, or—or in how you’ve been touching me. Are you one of those virginity fetishists, Hitoshi? Have you wanted to touch more of me?”

“I’m not reducing you to a fetish, clearly, and—and you belong to someone else,” said Shinsou, sounding like he was gritting his teeth, “If I were your soulmate, then I would allow myself to want more from you. But I’d only do it if you wanted it—for real, not whatever you’re doing now—because I’m not a selfish bitch.” Each word sounded like it had to fished out of his stomach with a barbed hook. “I can fucking wait for you, because I wouldn’t ever want you to be fucking scared around me for any reason, and I’ll keep waiting. I don’t mind. You’ve got the rest of your goddamn life for all of this.”

Welp. Shinsou was more upset than you meant for him to be, but perhaps this conversation would frustrate him enough to kiss and suck at your neck during a movie when he returned. “Then come home and touch me, Hitoshi. Fucking do it. I want you to. Stop holding back.”

“No. No, I won’t. I—something’s up with you. You’re not acting like yourself, and—and it’s pissing me off. You don’t know what you’re asking for, and you can’t really mean it. You’d never want me. You’re being a goddamn brat,” he said, and you could picture him running a hand back through his hair, mouth twitching, scowling, “Is that what this is? Does my precious baby girl wanna be punished? Seems like you want something drastic. I can give you that. Listen up: I’m about halfway through my bike route. Go to my room. In my bedside table, there’s a toy I’ve chosen for you. Originally, it was gonna be used months down the line, but since someone can’t watch that bratty mouth of hers—when I get back to the school, I’d better find you fucking yourself with it.”

“Wait, what?” You snapped upright, the blanket pooling around your waist.

 “You heard me, you lying little minx. I’m not going to lift a finger for this punishment. You’re doing it all by yourself.”

What the fuck. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Why? Are you getting wet?” Shinsou scoffed into the speaker. “Key’s in the usual place. Get to it,” Shinsou said, and he hung up.

Numbly, you lowered your phone to your lap, staring as the screen returned to your home wallpaper.

Uh. That’s. That’s a bit more extreme than kissing your neck. You supposed…you supposed that you should do what he said, lest he get even angrier.

You went to his dorm. The fake cactus you’d given him rested on the windowsill, bathed in sunlight, and after a quick check to the soil—moist—you permitted yourself a smile. You dropped it when you opened the top drawer of his bedside table, but you hid the toy under your shirt and dashed back to your room before you or anyone else could get a good look at it.

Locking the door behind you, you pulled the toy out from underneath your shirt. New in the package, so that alleviated any worries about sabotage. You cut it open, and silicone cock dropped into your lap. It’s a pale blue, almost translucent thing, and it’s five and a half inches, according to the packaging. For a moment, you were insulted at the size, because didn’t Shinsou think you could take something bigger? But then you remembered that you and what pussy would be taking it, so. That’s fair. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about it—no suction or vibration or anything. Just a fake dick.

How do you even prepare for this? You changed out of your pants into a semi-short skirt, deciding you still wanted to be somewhat covered, and you tossed your underwear to the foot of your bed. While you were laying down a towel, you briefly considered if you should put on that virgin English song by Madonna. Not English English, but—wait, was Madonna from England? Or another English-speaking country?

You’ve masturbated before, of course; you’re not an idiot, but you’ve never—you sighed, cringing at the five and a half inches—taken something this long or wide inside you (which aspect would be more trouble?). Lying on your bed atop the towel, you held the dildo up to the light, blue specks of glitter shining through. You parted your legs and rubbed the tip through your folds, completely bone-dry, feeling inadequate and ashamed that you couldn’t get turned on, worried about Shinsou and what was going through his mind, and Madonna was from America, from a place called Bay City in the state of Michigan but was raised around Detroit, and you couldn’t focus on getting aroused or anything, so though you were circling your clit, it wasn’t doing anything for you, and the tip of the dildo could barely make it inside you, not even passing the first ring of muscle. Using the head, you gathered what slickness you could, even teasing and prodding your clit with the rubbery material before trying to work the head past the first, tense ring, but the stretch of it burned, entrance strained and stinging, while your feet slid against the towel and blanket, trying to give you extra traction to get it in—and it slipped out of you entirely, the head bouncing as it flopped to lie flat on the towel between your legs. Jaw clenched and eyes watering, you were flooded with a hot rush of embarrassment. If you can’t take this, how would you ever take Shinsou’s cock?

Time passed without your noticing, but it felt like no time at all before you could feel yourself drying out, even though you were never that wet to begin with. Collapsing back and staring at the ceiling, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your skirt, wanting nothing more than to go back to before you made the phone call, but you’ve dug your own bed, so now you have to grave/lie in it.

But you couldn’t get it inside you.

You fished the dildo out from underneath you, and to your surprise, the cockhead had turned a light lilac at the wet heat between your legs, and it was slowly fading back into blue. Okay. You got it. Another phone call would further your cause. Dread building, you called him again, and he picked up after a single ring, quiet. “Hitoshi?”

“Yeah?”

A short reprieve of relief passed through you at his calm inflection, but it left when you braced yourself for what you had to say. “I—” Goddammit, steam would be coming out of your ears if you grew the tiniest iota more embarrassed. “I can’t get it in.”

Though only a few painful, prolonged seconds elapsed, the silence that followed felt long enough for you to have listened to Madonna’s entire discography. Eventually, a careful, resigned-sounding Shinsou said, “Would you like me to give you instructions over the phone, or do you want me to come over?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see, and said in a small voice, “I think you should come over.”

“Right,” he said, “Give me three minutes.”

Two minutes later, you were opening your door for him. Freshly showered with damp, partially fluffed hair (he must not have put in his mousse yet), Shinsou rushed to hug you before you could lift your hand off the doorknob, his muscular, still wet-warm arms wrapping around you with great fervent, pinning your own arms to your sides, and he tucked his chin into the crook of your neck, mouth half on your shirt and half on your skin.

“Oh, baby,” he said, his nose scrunching against you while he smushed you against him, getting your own shirt damp, “You don’t have to do any of this. I’m so, so sorry. I was inexcusably angry, and I didn’t—I leant into hard dom mode because I froze up and didn’t know how to react, and being a hard dom comes easily for me. You didn’t have to—I was terrified. I’m sorry.”

“No, I—I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to be so good,” you said, and Shinsou pulled back enough to look at you, his hands on your waist (!!!), and he gasped softly when he caught your drying tear lines. “Because I was being unfair to you. Being a brat. Pushing you.” You sniffed, closing your eyes as Shinsou cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a fresh tear. Two more ran down your face before you managed to get out, “Help me make it fit?”

Shinsou avoided your eyes by moving to your bed while retrieving the small, squeeze bottle of lube from his back pocket. You winced when he picked up the dildo, since the head was still slick and purple, and he twisted it around, looking it over, while he sat on your bed against the wall, legs outstretched across your bed. “I see you didn’t get very far.”

“Shut up; it’s dried off,” you said, one knee on your bed, wrinkling the towel, “And so what if I’ve got a tiny vagina. It means you can indulge in any size kink shit you have going on with your massive, monster dong.”

“Don’t fucking say it like that,” Shinsou said, laughing a bit but refusing to meet your eyes, and he patted his thigh for you to sit. “You probably didn’t warm yourself up well enough.”

Good. Good. So far, it had been unfolding comfortably, like an average hangout, ish, but when you swung your leg over Shinsou’s lap to straddle him, everything became much realer. Heavier. Both of you tensed up, with you hovering above his lap, really, instead of putting your weight on it, and when your skirt rose up a hair, you flattened it back down. “Warm me up, then.”

The shock in Shinsou’s widened eyes reflected your own. Where had that come from? “I don’t think I should,” he said, his fists bunched in your bedding.

“Hitoshi,” you said, shifting farther up his hips but still hovering, “I want you to be the one to stretch me out.” You did a very good impression of a completely calm, normal person as you held up the dildo. “Should I—should I lick it first, or something? To make it easier?”

Shinsou made a noise that sounded like a combination of coughing and choking. “No, uh. Natural—natural lubrication. Would be best. First,” he was saying as you guided his cold, trembling hands to your thighs, “Let’s. Let’s try that. First. If that’s okay.” His touch was so light that you barely felt it, so you pressed down on his hands, his fingertips indenting in your skin, and you nodded, letting him know it was okay. Watchful for your approval, he hesitantly smoothed long strokes down your thighs.

“That’s fine. It’s—it’s what I called you over for,” you said, losing brain cells when you noticed how much of your thighs Shinsou’s large hands could hold, “Touch me? I trust you.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll.” He swallowed visibly, spit audible. “I’ll keep your skirt down so that you don’t have to show me anything; you’ll be safe. I won’t—I won’t take advantage of you. You’re safe with me. Why don’t you—” He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you put your hands on my shoulders to steady yourself?”

Going a step further, you wrapped your arms around his neck and leant in, holding him close, shoving your nose in his neck, getting struck with some sort of fruity scent (pears?), and arching up as an afterthought to give him better access, your skirt riding up to reveal just the slightest curve of your ass.

Shinsou rubbed your thighs twice more, the second time allowing his fingertips to dip under the edge of your skirt before running back down your thighs. He then slowly drew his shaking hands up in parallel all the way up to your hips, his fingertips pressing into the swell of your ass and his thumbs sliding into the line where your thighs met your—

“Holy shit,” said Shinsou, snapping his hands back as if he’d been scalded, “You’re—you’re not wearing anything.”

You clenched around nothing at the crack in his voice. You were about to ask him if he typically wore his underwear while masturbating, but you found that you couldn’t get your mouth to work.

“Hold on,” Shinsou was saying, and you leant back, dragging your arms from around his neck to rest on his shoulders, “I need a minute.” He closed his eyes, pressing his thumb and index fingers against them, biting his lip, clonking his head back against the wall.

Saliva building in your mouth and thighs about to give out, you eased your weight onto Shinsou’s lap—and his breath hitched the moment your bare cunt pushed against his cock, achingly hard and bulging in his sweats.

“Good Lord, have mercy,” said Shinsou, opening his eyes to half-lidded and dragging his hand down his face, a flash of alarm reaching his eyes when his hips involuntarily bucked up into yours (probably at the wet gush that had dripped onto him). The movement had shot arousal from your clit all the way up to the back of your throat, so you tried to roll your hips against him, mimicking his motions. Shinsou stopped you, his hands shooting to your thighs to still them. “No, you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” he said, breathing hard, “I am honoured you’d even let me touch you.”

Honoured? You scowled when Shinsou buried his face in his hands, because you’ve had enough of his casual comments here and there that he’s not worthwhile. That he’s not worth loving. That no one would ever want him. Ha, as if it were possible you couldn’t want him. Shinsou has always looked at you with a tenderness that ached. He knew you and valued you and saw you, just as you truly were, and didn’t ask for anything more. How could you ever love anyone else?

From this angle, the sag of his sleeve revealed the final syllable of his name written on his wrist.

So, you fucking did it. You grabbed his wrists to move his hands out of the way and kissed Shinsou. It was probably a bad, desperate kiss, since you didn’t know what you were doing (probably too firm?), but the way Shinsou sighed into it made up for the wave of insecurity. The moment when his shoulders slackened, you celebrated in your head, relishing how his cold, coconut-pear lips were just warming up, but Shinsou shuddered and pulled away, pushing at your shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren’t you saving that for your soulmate?” asked Shinsou, spluttering and panicked, “It’s just me. You wasted it on me.”

“I didn’t waste it. There is nothing just about you, Hitoshi. Listen, I—I don’t want things to change, but at the same time, I do. I’ve decided I don’t fucking care about my stupid, fucking soulmate. I don’t fuck with him. I want you.” You removed his hands from your shoulders to grasp both of them, closing some of the distance he’d creating by scooting nearer to him—cracking a smile at the way his dick twitched when you inadvertently grinded on him. “I think I always have. You are lovable and witty and kind; you look at me and handle me with gentleness to the extreme. I will never connect with anyone like the way we do. No one is like you, Hitoshi.”

His hair was fluffing back up, and based on his expression, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was being electrocuted. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“My soulmate is probably a bastard, anyway,” you said, jerking your head to the side, “and your soulmate—I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I want to be the closest to you forever, or as long as you’ll have me. It terrifies me that someone else could get between us. I want you to take all my firsts; I want you to be the only one who ever touches me—”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Shinsou was saying, muffled behind the fist he’d brought to his mouth, the tips of his ears flaming red, “Baby, please don’t say things like that to me. You’ll give me hope.”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry for ruining our friendship like this, but I’m in love with you. I love you. I always have, without even knowing. And I always fucking will, even if some bastard soulmate shows up someday. I choose you. You’re what I want, every day for the rest of my life, and I wanna be yours.”

Shinsou sighed, shoulders heaving as he embraced you, holding you tightly. “Don’t worry about ruining our friendship; I did that already. I got caught in my own damn capture weapon the day Tainted Love attacked. I could’ve stopped her if I hadn’t. I could’ve prevented all of this. We could have kept going, keeping a tender distance, so neither of us would be…burdened.”

“Fuck you and your conception of being a burden—”

“And I have a hunch who your soulmate is,” said Shinsou, deflated as he pulled away.

You blinked. “You what?”

“I’m evil and sinister and foul for keeping it from you. But I—I talked to Tainted Love. Got some help. I think I know.”

“I don’t need to know,” you said, lifting your hand to hold his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut, his light purple lashes contrasting against his skin.

Shinsou leant into your palm, looking like the world had been taken off his shoulders, but he furrowed his brow and opened his eyes, his jaw shifting. “I’m not going to tell you how I feel until you know who it is.”

“Hitoshi,” you said, grinning weakly, “I’m pretty sure I already know how you feel.”

Shinsou took your hand, sliding it off his face and held it palm up, and he traced over the lines with his middle and ring fingers. “I don’t think I should tell you until you know your soulmate.”

“Fine, then. Enlighten me.”

“You sure? I’m evil and sinister and foul,” Shinsou said again, dodging when you moved to flick his forehead for debasing himself, “and I’m about to get even worse.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip, eyes flicking to yours. “There’s one way to figure it out for certain. Do you trust me?”

“I tried to impale myself on a fake cock for you. What do you think?”

Shinsou laughed, finally, easing into his crooked grin, turning a sad sort of bittersweet at the last second. “Remember the first time we met.”

It’s as if a ghostly hand was penetrating your mind, tracing back and back and back, through filing cabinets of memories, farther back than you could’ve reached yourself, exhuming parts of your past you’d forgotten that flashed by in hazy slideshows of photographs as it thumbed through manilla folders. When the hand appeared to startle in revelation, it slithered a shoddy file from its misplaced location, shoved sideways along the drawer vaguely labelled to be first semester, freshman year. When the hand was joined by its pair, you realised they were your own, and when you opened the file, you were plunged into the memory, set to relive it exactly.

God, you’re going to be late. You’re never late, and this way, Aizawa was going to get a bad impression of you and your standards. It’s not your fault that this follow-up to the Sports Festival was scheduled at the ass-crack of dawn, but—and you sucked in the morning air through your teeth, pulling your collar up to protect you from the wind—it was, admittedly, your fault that you’d stayed up late with Asui and Jirou. It’d been like a sleepover, almost, and you were loving the people your classmates were turning out to be.

What was this meeting for, anyway? All of the Sports Festival participants were invited, so it must be some sort of practical evaluation of your performances. Maybe how you can improve. But why did it have to be before school? Aizawa was crazy.

You skidded to a stop in front of the gym and swung open the door, and it creaked so loudly that fucking everybody stopped what they were doing to stare at you. Smiling nervously, you took a step inside.

Yamada shot you finger guns from his place atop a lump in a yellow sleeping bag. “WAY TO MAKE AN ENTRANCE! YOU’RE SO LATE, AND WE COULDN’T START WITHOUT YOU, SINCE WE’RE REVIEWING THE EVENTS IN ORDER! WE HAD TO GO AROUND AND SHARE FUN FACTS ABOUT OURSELVES!”

“I’m so sorry.” Any excuse you would’ve made wouldn’t’ve made up for your classmates’ suffering, so you didn’t offer one.

You scrambled to the back of the group, hunching in on yourself, and as soon as you found a place, you heard a scoff.

“Looks like the ice princess finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Your jaw dropped, and you turned to face some purple, troll-haired bitch with bags under his eyes. Ah. You knew this guy. He’d scoped out Class A before the Sports Festival and insulted your new friends to their faces. That sort of jackassery would not be tolerated by you, so you’d adopted a rather cold, defensive front to anyone outside of Class A for the time being, presuming they felt the same. Oh, yes, you remembered this guy, above all others shunning your class.

You scowled back, the corner of your mouth twitching, and you spoke with disdain. “Shinsou Hitoshi.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but both of you snapped towards the front when Yamada clapped and began yelling again.

You were ripped out of the memory by the softest orgasm you’ve ever had, gentle and washing through your body like a bathtub overflowing; you found yourself held snugly by Shinsou’s arms, clutching you to his chest, while your hips grinded against him, arousal seeping out of you and soaking the fabric over his pulsing cock.

Gasping, you kissed the side of his neck, and he shuddered. “Hitoshi.”

“You’re back?” Shinsou raised a hand from your lower back to stroke your hair, pulling away to smile at you. “You were under for a while,” he said, and he slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips into yours. “Seems like you had a good time. Started grinding on me all by yourself. I tried to stop you, but you—” He broke off, grinning and shaking his head. “You moved to suck at my neck, and I fucking shattered.” He tapped a spot, spit reflecting in the light.

“There’s no mark, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, and you slumped against him. “Thank fucking God. I’m so glad that it’s you. I wanted it to be you. I was ready for it to not be, but I’m so fucking relieved.”

“Excellent,” said Shinsou, lifting your chin by tapping the underside of it, “because I love you so fucking much.” Cradling the back of your head, Shinsou pulled you into a fervent kiss, desperate and firm as you’d been at first, but softening when you parted your lips a little, and the subsequent slide of his tongue against yours made your head buzz with pleasure, doubling when he let out a needy groan.

“Oh, my God, you’re fucking perfect,” you said, breaking off to breathe, and he chuckled, resting his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply and pressing his lips to your bare skin there. “Wait. You used your quirk on me. I don’t know what you’re on about, Hitoshi; it felt incredible.”

“That would be the orgasm you just rode out on my thigh, sweetheart,” he said, nuzzling into you, cold and hot at the same time.

“No, it was something different, too, something I felt when Neito used your quirk on me. It feels—it felt like you were holding me, unbearably fond and full of compassion.”

Shinsou blinked, his eyelashes brushing against your neck. “Well. I’ve never heard my quirk described as something affectionate. If it’s like that way for you, then I’m glad.” He took a deep breath, the exhale fanning over you, and he pressed his lips to your neck, letting them linger, softly puckered, before speaking again.“I’m so fucking glad I don’t have to dance around my feelings anymore with the dumbass teaching sessions. I’m out of practise, anyway, since I stopped doing them for anyone else a long time ago; you caught me being evil, right? When I allowed myself to be me instead of the dom I moulded myself into.”

“I noticed,” you said, bringing a hand up to scratch the base of his scalp, and he fucking moaned. After a brief pause, you continued, feeling powerful and loved. “But good. Good. I was—I was scared of going further, but I didn’t know how else to keep you acting all romantical with me. I don’t wanna have sex with you. Yet. I’m not ready.”

“I know,” he said, and you felt his grin as he pressed a light kiss to your neck, once, twice. “I don’t wanna have sex with you, too.”

“How romantic.”

“You know what I meant,” he grumbled, blowing cold air over the slight wet spots he’d left, and you shivered with a laugh. “I will wait however long you need to. I’m in no rush.” He propped his head sideways on your shoulder, looking up at you. “To be honest, I know I wouldn’t last, even if we did. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna come the moment I touch your sweet cunt.”

“How romantic,” you deadpanned again, Shinsou’s huff tickling you, and your fingers curled into his soft hair. “But yeah. I love you. And now—now we can be sincere about it. Real. We don’t have to hold back anymore.” You gently guided Shinsou up so that you could cup his face and smile at him, lips close enough to suggest another kiss. “You can love me with everything you’ve got.”

Face framed by your hands, Shinsou looked like he was in the clouds. “That I can do.”

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

[hxney-lemcn]

The Riddle of Love — Gotham! Edward Nygma x gn! reader

summery: Edward's interest shifts to someone who indulges in his love of riddles.

tw: bullying (?), kristen kringle is a warning all her own in this fic, implied rejection (not really tho, Ed's just awkward).

a/n: I hope so much that I wrote all these characters correctly. I have riddler fever rn and really wanted to write for him, but I've always been scared that I'd write him too ooc. I think I did good tho.

wc: 3.1k

Master List

“What is it that no one wants to have, but no one wants to lose either?” I asked. I already knew it was a lost cause. Edward Nygma was the smartest man I had ever met. Dorky? Yes. Nerdy? Absolutely. Smart? Incredibly. So trying to impress him at his own game wasn’t exactly the smartest move. Yet, the first time I gave him a riddle to solve (which he solved ridiculously fast), I don’t think I’d ever seen him so happy. So I continued to scour the internet in my free time to try and find obscure riddles. 

Although this riddle wasn’t that obscure. I was running out of riddles to find, and I sure as hell couldn’t make my own. 

“A lawsuit,” Eddie replied without missing a beat, still focusing on testing blood samples. 

I couldn’t stop the pout that formed on my face, “It’s not fair how smart you are.”

I didn’t see Ed’s lips twitch up, how the praise I didn’t think twice about saying impacted him more than he’d like to admit. It was quiet for a few minutes, and I looked back down to the papers I had brought with me. Sometimes, I found myself working in the forensic lab when I could. One of the perks of being a criminal data analyst. I could make my notes on paper, and then just copy them into the computer later. 

Since I was a data analyst, I was in the record archives often. I was acquainted with Kristen Kringle, which obviously led me to Edward Nygma. She would complain about him if I came in after he had left. At that point I didn’t know him, but I also found her complaints unfounded. I’d let her vent, but I’d also speak up for him, which made her glance away in what I assume was guilt. Then there were the unfortunate times that I’d walk in on his awkward flirting. I’d just tensely put away or take the files I needed for my research and leave them to it. 

But after enough times, I’d caught him in the middle of one of his riddles. An easy one, probably to dumb it down for Kringle so she’d be enticed to answer it in the first place. Yet he had caught the attention of the wrong person. Although that didn’t seem to put a damper on his mood. He only sent me a tight lipped smile with a little ‘ding ding ding!’. That’s how I was caught hook line and sinker. His mannerisms were oddly endearing to me, and that’s how our odd little friendship formed. 

I was brought out of my reverie as Eddie shuffled over to his microscope, “I am a nine lettered word and rhyme with perfection; I am another name for love. What am I?”

I blinked, not ready for a riddle, even though I always should be in the presence of him. I looked up from my work, and I noticed how Eddie was sweating, his cheeks flushing a bright red. I tapped the metal table anxiously, the word love had thrown me off my game and my brain felt empty of anything else. I mumbled words under my breath that rhyme with perfection. 

“Deception, reception, perception,” I mumbled, yet none of them fit the rest of the rhyme. The longer I took, the more anxious Eddie seemed to get. “Affection. Oh! The answer is affection!”

Ed cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses, “Y-yes, that is correct. G-good job.” My proud smile fell into a more awkward one, thinking over the implications. That riddle sounded like one he’d save for Kringle. Was he running out of riddles as well? The thought alone was preposterous. It was tense for a bit. And when I realized I had nothing left to do but input the current data I had on some wanna be gang leader. The sad part is I knew that the cops aren’t going to be the first ones who get them. 

Even though I needed to leave, it felt wrong for some reason. To leave the situation after Edward had seemed to admit something in his unique way of sharing. I didn’t want to assume his feelings, yet I knew he also wasn’t one to just state them willingly. Biting my lip anxiously, I decided to just do it. 

Walking over towards Ed’s hunched form, I leaned down to place a light kiss to his cheek, “I’ll see ya later Eddie.” Then I booked it out of the room, leaving behind a very flustered dork. 

It wasn’t much later in the day when Doctor Lee Thompson entered my office. It wasn’t much of an office. The dark walls made the space feel enclosed, and it barely fit my desk and the few cabinets it held. Yet I didn’t mind it since it was a space for myself. Lee, on the other hand, was another acquaintance whose office was nowhere near mine. She’d only come to my office for a few reasons, if it was work related (which was rare since our departments weren’t similar), or if it was personal. Sometimes she fessed that it seemed I needed some company, that it would do me no good to spend all this time alone in my office. Other times…it was on a more personal note, about Eddie and I’s relationship. 

She plopped a candy bar on my desk, a placating move that was all too familiar.

“You must’ve done a real number on Ed,” She smirked, sitting on my desk. Due to the tiny size of the room, and the nature of my job, I didn’t have a seat for guests. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. Deep down, I knew exactly what she meant. I knew Edward was an awkward man, and his experience with flirting was an ultimate zero. Yet it was hard to imagine that he was still affected by a small gesture of affection… Okay maybe the gesture wasn’t that small, for either of us, but still! 

Lee’s smirk widened, “I think you know exactly what. Poor little Ed kept stumbling over his words when I brought you up. Something must’ve happened.”

I unwrapped the candy bar as she spoke, wanting to avoid any thought of the earlier moment. Looking back it was so awkward and a terrible attempt at…what? Flirting? Was that my intention? I didn’t even know my own intentions! 

I took a bite from the candy bar, savoring the sweet flavor before having to explain the painfully awkward memory. When I managed to explain the event, Lee couldn’t stop herself from chuckling, causing me to finish my candy bar with a bitter look. 

“That sounds like something you’d both do,” She smiled.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” I huffed, trying to fight off the flush of embarrassment I felt. 

“Nothing,” She sighed wistfully. “But you two really take your time, huh?” 

“Shut up,” I scowled. 

“Okay, okay,” She threw her hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll stop teasing…for now. But seriously, I think you two would be cute together.”

I let out a childish groan, “I get it. Is there anything else you need?” 

“No,” She smiled as she stood up. “Just wanted to see what had Ed all wound up.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart skipped a beat at the implication. As Lee saw herself out, my mind kept racing. What was Ed doing right now? What was he thinking about? Did he really care enough about my opinion, about my affection, that he was still affected by it? I stared at my computer screen, the cursor blinking mindlessly. Glancing at the time, I scowled as I realized I still had 30 minutes left to my shift. The idea of going home, having a relaxing dinner and then maybe treating myself to a warm bath. 

…

That was only the beginning. It seems that Eddie’s admiration had shifted from Kristin Kringle to me. It was flattering, to say the least. At least to me. Once I gained Ed’s attention, I seemed to have gained his colleagues attention as well. Typically, I didn’t work with the officers, I’d research criminals, then that data would be added to the files. So when I walked past James Gordon and Harvey Bullock, I never thought twice. But when Ed had waved at me, that cute tight lipped smile on his face as I waved back, a smile of my own adorning my face, it drew the attention of the two detectives. 

"Careful Ed,” Harvey mocked. “Don’t wanna scare them off.” Jim only glanced up briefly, not interested in the situation in the least. I watched as Ed’s smile twitched for a second, Harvey’s words seeming to get to him. I felt my smile slip, not liking how they treat him in the slightest.

“He…didn’t do anything wrong,” I shrugged, before waving goodbye, making my way to the record archives. Not only them, but even Kringle was looking at me more than just as a person to vent to. 

“I feel sorry for you,” She stated, adjusting her thick rimmed glasses. Her hazel eyes held their usual air of judgment as she placed some files back in their spots. 

“Why?” I asked, flipping through to find the person I needed. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, raising one of her perfectly maintained eyebrows. “Edward’s got his eyes on another victim.” I frowned, anger bubbling within me at the way she always found new ways to insult him. 

“I wouldn’t describe it like that,” I managed to grit out. “I find the sentiment sweet.”

“Wait,” Kringle paused, turning to look at me with disbelief. “Do you…like him?”

I sighed, finding it hard to focus on the task at hand with this irritating conversation, “Would there be something wrong with that?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird how fast he switched?” She asked, a hint of jealousy in her tone. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he loses interest in you.”

I slammed the cabinet shut in a bout of rage, leaving the room before I do something I may regret…or lose my job over. As I exited, my scowl worsened when I realized I didn’t even get what I needed. 

“Hello!” Edward’s excited voice greeted me as I entered the break room. When my gaze landed on him, I felt my expression soften, my shoulder’s relaxing. His brown eyes were so expressive, that silly smile on his face never failed to melt my heart. 

“Hey,” I muttered back. Looking over the options in the vending machine. Just get something to eat, and hopefully I’ll feel better. 

“Is…something the matter?” He asked, fidgeting with his glasses. I let out a long sigh as I sat across from him at one of the few tables. 

Taking a bite of my snack, I took some time to gather my thoughts and feelings, “Sometimes I just hate people.”

His eyebrows raised, nervously fidgeting with his tie, “Th-that’s…understandable.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, finally cooling down. “Someone was just saying some really mean things and it got to me.”

Edwards’ demeanor changed in an instant, a frown replacing his smile, and his eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of concern and anger, “Who?”

I blinked, “What?”

“Who insulted you?” He asked, fists clenched. This wasn’t what I was expecting. He would get annoyed, yeah, but he’d always just stew in it until he calmed down. And he was barely angry when I was around, which was something I was proud of. So seeing him react so harshly was unusual. It made me feel a bit appreciated, that he cared enough to get this angry over it, yet it was also unsettling.

“They…they were insulting you,” I clarified, rubbing my arm awkwardly. “And trust me, I was ready to do some things that would’ve gotten me fired.”

Ed blinked, calming down drastically at the revelation, “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “I swear if she says one more damned thing about you I’m gonna…” I strangled the air, the only way I could express how frustrated her insults made me.

Edward fake coughed, his cheeks tinged a light pink, “I assume you mean Miss Kringle.”

I paused, hoping it didn’t hurt that his past interest was still as rude as ever. “I didn’t even manage to get the files I needed,” I grumbled, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

“...I can get them for you,” I felt my heart crack. Was he still interested in her? Was that why he was so ready to go into the den of the woman who so readily insults him? 

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that,” I shook my head. “I’ll just have Lee do it.”

Ed blinked, seeming to think over something before standing up, “I’ll be right back.” Before he was fully out the door he paused, “Whose case files did you need?”

I couldn’t help the tiny grin at how eager he was as I gave him the names of the people I needed files on. Yet that smile fell. Was he really so excited to get a chance to see Kringle that he almost left without knowing what files he needed? I finished my snack, getting a drink from the vending machine while I was at it. My mind continued to make up terrible scenarios that could be happening at that moment. How she could manage to crush Ed’s precious heart even more than she’s already managed to.

Ed was back quicker than I realized. It took him less than ten minutes! He set the files I needed on the table, that tight lipped grin on his face as he waited for my input.

“Oh! Thank you!” I thanked, flipping through the files to make sure they were all there. “She didn’t give you any trouble, did she?”

“No,” He replied simply. As I met his gaze, that’s when I finally realized that he was truly over Kringle. I should’ve felt disturbed at how intense his gaze was, at how strong his emotions seemed to be when he wasn’t even trying. Yet I only felt flattered, important, and wanted. Emotions I wasn’t completely used to, and caused my heart to stutter at how strong my own emotions were becoming. 

Standing up, I leaned in and kissed his cheek again, this time a bit more confident then the last time I did. I waved goodbye as I walked out with the files he gave me. I felt pride swell within me as I watched Eddie become a flustered mess as I left. It was a good mood lifter as I watched him fumble with his usual nervous ticks, before he was finally out of my sight. 

…

Edward’s courting tactics only seemed to grow after that. I wasn’t sure what changed him to do so. I could only speculate that Lee had something to do with it. She kept stopping by my office, asking how Ed and I were doing like she hadn’t just seen us the day before. I can’t lie, I was reveling in the attention that Ed was giving me, and I could tell he’d revel in my attention as well. A mutual pining on both sides. 

Normally, I’d be okay with that. Too scared to try and push things forward. Edward Nygma was different. He was just so…amazing. I’ve never felt so strongly towards someone. He was sweet, attentive, smart, and overall lovely. I couldn’t just settle for pining, I wanted to experience what it would be like as his lover. 

Which led me to this horrendous mess up of a confession.

I dressed up a bit nicer than usual, hoping to impress the cute dork. I felt confident in myself, an emotion I don’t feel regularly. I greeted Lee, who seemed like she guessed the occasion and sent me a wink when I walked past. 

“Hey Eddie,” I greeted, setting a cup of coffee down on the counter.

“Oh! Hello,” He greeted me, smiling. “You seem chipper this morning.”

Nudging the coffee towards him I smiled back, “It’s a good day today. I got you a coffee.”

“You didn’t need to,” Ed replied sheepishly, not used to people giving him things. 

I only shrugged, “I wanted to.” I tapped the counter I was leaning on as nerves started to slowly creep through me. So, before my anxiety could get the best of me, I blurted out, “What is mine but only you can have?”

With furrowed eyebrows, Ed actually paused to answer a riddle for the first time during this little game we had. His eyes flitted around the room, like he was trying to avoid the answer. I know he was smart enough to figure it out, so the fact he was taking so long to answer caused my heart rate to spike from anxiety. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I was reading the room wrong. I blame Lee for feeding me a wrong understanding. 

“I…uh…” Ed stuttered over his words, sweat dripping down the side of his face. Shit, shit, shit! I shouldn’t have said that. He does know the answer, I found it online easily, he obviously knows. He doesn’t feel the same and now he’s trying to find a way to politely reject me. 

“Nevermind!” I exclaimed, trying to quell my nerves by getting the fuck out of here. “Stupid riddle! Never needs an answer. I should get to work.”

“W-wait!” Eddie called out, making me stop in my tracks. So close yet so far. “I can be a fruit, I can be on a calendar, I can be important, and I can be forgotten. What am I?”

Turning back around, I watched as Eddie picked at his nails. We both seemed like complete messes at the moment. It was hard for me to think of anything due to my previous failure of admitting my feelings. I bit my lip awkwardly, trying to stop myself from making any more of a fool of myself.

“I…I’m not sure Eddie,” I chuckled solemnly.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his glasses before admitting, “A date. W-would you accompany me on one?” I stared at him with wide eyes, unsure if I heard him correctly.

“Y-yeah! Of course I will!” That tinge of embarrassment was quickly overpowered by exhilaration. The smile that stretched across my face almost hurt with how big it was. Eddie’s smile was also wide as he still couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Is…is tonight okay? Dinner? 7 o’clock?”

“That sounds perfect.” 

And to make the moment better, I kissed his cheek before parting, excited for what the night held for us.

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan - GQ February issue cover story Q&A 📝

They have experienced real things. There is no camera facing you. Without lights, you are living your own real life.

GQ: When did it become clear that you wanted to be an actor?

Xiao Zhan: When the public paid more and more attention to me, I want to say, why can’t I do it? I think I can. Sometimes I get shaken and think it’s so difficult. Why can’t I do it? For example, when it comes to lines, why are my lines just not good? Why can’t I speak well with others? Is it because I'm from the South? I don't think so, and then I think, how can I say it well? I can do it, let's give it a try.

GQ: In your opinion, what are the professional standards for actors?

Xiao Zhan: First of all, being professional is an unavoidable topic. You can have a non-major background, but you must have excellent professional skills. This is what I want to do, this is who I am. I feel that I am not enough, and i’m too far behind.

After becoming professional, attitude is very important and whether you love it is also very important. Do you just treat it as a job, or do you really like it? These are two concepts. When you see it as a job, you may not be able to go very far. But if you really like it, you will cry for it and laugh for it, which may be the motivation for you to stick to it.

I also have a strong body (laughs). I used to not feel tired when I was in my twenties, but now I feel very tired after staying up late. It's a terrible thing to be. A strong body is important, it is your foundation.

GQ: When you acted in which role or drama, did you feel recognized?

Xiao Zhan: When I was working on "The Wolf" at the beginning, I was under a lot of pressure. My acting teacher would give me a lot of advice and guidance, and I would constantly overturn my own performance every day. t was a period of confusion. After you get over it, you will find that you have grown. When you start acting later, you will gradually find a little bit of feeling, and then step by step — this is a cumulative process.

I feel that I have acted too little. Compared with some of my predecessors, who have acted in many works in their thirties, my current works are still too few and I have not accumulated enough.

GQ: Are you anxious?

Xiao Zhan: Yes, because I think (improving acting skills) is a cumulative process. You can’t make a big step forward with just one movie. This is difficult for me to happen. So you have to keep filming, but you have to keep filming good films and don't consume yourself.

GQ: What are the considerations behind the expansion of the three film and television dramas to be broadcast in 2023 from costume dramas to period dramas and urban dramas?

Xiao Zhan: Actually, I didn’t think anything about it. It just happened naturally. I didn’t deliberately change the themes that I had acted in before. I just read the script and the script was handed to me at the time. I felt attracted to a certain script at the moment, so I chose it. It just happened to be a subject that I had never acted in before.

GQ: Do you feel tired after always acting in costume dramas?

Xiao Zhan: There are many types of costumes. Don’t divide them into costume dramas and modern dramas. It’s nothing more than putting on a hood and changing clothes. In fact, the core is the same, but also just completely different.

GQ: Once your drama is aired, will you follow it?

Xiao Zhan: I won’t follow it, but I will watch it, and I will choose the scenes that I care about to focus on, so I can find problems for myself.

GQ: Will you be able to watch the barrage?

Xiao Zhan: I used to really know how to do it. I felt very happy and laughed with everyone, but now I can’t do it.

GQ: What kind of role do you want to play now?

Xiao Zhan: If I could choose, of course it would be the best one I haven’t tried yet. I need freshness. If I ask you to do the same thing every day, you will be bored.

GQ: What kind of actor do you want to be?

Xiao Zhan: I want to be an actor that the audience can like.

GQ: Have you already done this to make people like you?

Xiao Zhan: No, no, I think it’s far from enough. I once thought about whether to be an actor with a personal style or to be an actor that the audience likes just by looking at you. At present, I want to be an actor who makes the audience like you. Maybe everyone is not your fan, or even not particularly interested in you, but you know that he has a drama, Do you want to watch it? His dramas are all good. I want to do this. This is my current goal. Is it possible to become the actor I like? This is a rule.

It’s a long road, take your time.

GQ: Who are your favorite actors?

Xiao Zhan: There are many. For example, Zhou Xun has always been my favorite actor. I recently watched her play ("Waving in the Poison of Anger"), and it was really great.

GQ: What are your career plans in 2024?

Xiao Zhan: Make more movies and work with more good teams. This is the only goal at the moment, and I won’t consider other things for the time being.

GQ: Do voices on social media bother you?

Xiao Zhan: It doesn’t bother me. It’s been so many years and I’m still worried. I’m still alive. (English) It’s really okay. Just like I know exactly what I'm doing, every time. To make a choice, you have to clearly know what you are doing, what you want to give up, and what you want to make. So, fortunately, the team may have more troubles.

GQ: Your personal life has not been affected?

Xiao Zhan: Very normal! I can go out for a ride or a walk. When you walk on the street, no one really cares about you. It's really not what everyone thinks. Like this, then I can walk around freely,

GQ: Is this an escape moment for you?

Xiao Zhan: It’s time to relax. Why do you want to escape? I am also in the third dimension. Where do I want to escape? This is my life. I am the same as everyone.

There are many things I particularly want to do, such as taking the subway and shopping in shopping malls, which are very similar to when I was in school, and maybe I will do them in the future.

GQ: Do you miss the ordinary life very much?

Xiao Zhan: It’s not that I miss it, it’s that I think I should do it. It’s because of my popularity. I will really take the subway, maybe tomorrow. It’s so normal. I used to take the subway every day. for me there’s nothing I can't do. What do you think I can do? Say hello and leave. It’s just that I don’t want to cause confusion and trouble for everyone or cause a bad reaction.

GQ: You have not appeared on variety shows in recent years. Is this a conscious choice?

Xiao Zhan: Because it’s not suitable. With my personality, people get tired in variety shows. I want to take care of everyone’s feelings, which makes me very tired. Now that I know this is the case, If there is a result, then just don’t do it.

GQ: What was your original intention in entering the entertainment industry?

Xiao Zhan: I really came in inexplicably and ignorantly. I used to watch talent shows and interview the top contestants. How did i get to this point? I accompanied my friend to participate in the selection, but my friend failed and I was selected. When I was a child, I thought these things were far away from me, but when it comes to myself, it is really like this. I think it's amazing. I participated in the draft and got to where I am now. It's amazing. Life is really interesting.

GQ: What things have you not thought of before after entering the industry?

Xiao Zhan: It is a very cruel thing not to eat wantonly. When I see my former high school classmates who have children and gained weight, I will sigh, I want this too— eating recklessly, their living conditions make me feel that if I had not chosen this path at that time, maybe we are all the same, having to socialize and endure hardships — rushing to design at night, you don't know how tiring it is to do design, but life is like this, there is no way.

GQ: How did choosing this piece change you?

Xiao Zhan: Maybe I lack a lot of life experience. In this regard, my classmates and friends are far better than me. They have experienced real things. There is no camera facing you. Without lights, you are living your own real life.

GQ: Are you an emotionally stable person?

Xiao Zhan: It's relatively stable, but once I touch some points, I will become very unstable.

GQ: For example?

Xiao Zhan: It’s just... some things that cannot be said. Haha, maybe when something incredible happens, you will think, what are you doing? I will be very angry when something happens. Maybe it's some privacy issue. If this point is exceeded, I will "run away".

Everyone has their own boundaries, and some people have no sense of propriety. I stay away from such people, but when the boundaries are broken again and again and the bottom line is touched, I will get very angry.

GQ: You once said that you have a particularly strong side in your personality. What do you mean specifically?

Xiao Zhan: In principle, I am a very rigid person. If I insist on something and I think it is right, it will be difficult to be convinced. For example, if I want to be an actor, I don’t want to do anything other than being an actor. If you come to Siam, let’s debate. No one is right or wrong, the team is also for your own good, Isn't it a good thing to have a lot of work? But for me, I have to subtract because some things are really not what I want.

GQ: Do you have a perfectionist side?

Xiao Zhan: I just want to do it well, just try my best right now. Maybe the result is not good, but what should I do? This is all I can do.

GQ: Can you accept failure?

Xiao Zhan: I can accept it. I might not have been able to accept it a few years ago, but 30-year-old Xiao Zhan has learned to accept it (laughs).

-END.

[taisho-era-secrets]

I'm currently trying to warm up for writing so I just want to do a little headcanons post...

Things the Hashira do/say during sex

Minors DNI

Giyuu Tomioka:

Isn't one for talking during sex so much, but occasionally something starts to slip out. He has trouble stopping himself, especially when it starts getting good.

You won't get complete sentences out of him 90% of the time, so when he does slip up it's usually...

"You feel-...", "Don't-", "I can't-..." and a mixture of short gasps and groans.

Often finds himself covering his own mouth with his hand because he's starting to lose his composure.

He'll make intense eye contact the entire time though. To the point it almost worries you.

(wants you to look back at him the entire time too)

Very into slow touch, loves to caress up your legs and tummy mostly. He's not usually one for rough, fast sex.

He loves to edge you though and when he discovered that you could see the gears turning in his head... Shocked at his own actions but pleasantly surprised by the results.

Tengen Uzui:

Talks all the time during sex. It's rare to have a moment of silence with him. He's the absolute best at dirty talk too, it just comes so naturally to him.

A big tease too, sure he'll praise you but he can't resist saying something that will make you slightly flustered. Makes you clench around him too so that's a bonus.

Favorite thing is to show off his strength in some way, usually by lifting you up during sex. Absolutely loves to hold you up by the thighs in front of a mirror.

"You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you? I can tell." "Little greedy tonight, aren't we?" "The face you're making right now is so cute."

Obanai Iguro:

Depending on his mood, he can be a little harsh with comments at the beginning. In actuality, he's trying to cover up whatever anxiety he's having. It doesn't matter if this is your hundredth time having sex, he still gets a little anxious.

He's almost never the one to initiate sex, even when you find yourselves in a situation that will lead to it he'll stop and make sure it's something you're craving.

A bit shy, though won't ever admit it. Does everything in his power to keep the face bandages on during sex.

Along with being shy, he has a hard time asking you what you like or what you want done. So he usually does things (slowly) in the heat of the moment and then gauges your reaction.

Usually doesn't say much during sex, but if he gets a reaction that he likes, he'll usually boast about it a little (after he's done looking like a shocked, love sick puppy).

"Oh? Did that do something for you? Well, maybe if you ask nicely I'll do it again... Come on. Beg for me."

Gyomei Himejima:

Okay don't laugh but I think he would pray during sex don't @ me.

Hearing soft "namu"s in between thrusts-

Gyomei takes a long time when it comes to foreplay, it's both because it's his favorite part and for his own peace of mind. He needs to make sure you're ready for him.

He's not one for anything else but praise. If you ask him to degrade you he will not do it. He'll be confused, why would you ever want that?

He's also one to tell you everything in that moment, walking you through what he feels and what you feel like to him.

He isn't into pet names so much but will absolutely call you "my love."

"So soft, my love. I can feel you deep inside."

Kyojuro Rengoku:

Listen. I love him. But I think he would talk about anything and everything during sex. Doesn't have to be appropriate for the moment either, he'll just... talk.

He's focused of course, but sometimes he's bad at reading the atmosphere and will talk about what you two are going to go do afterwards- usually what you two are going to go eat. Okay enough shitposting-

To praise and be praised is all he ever wants. He'll give praise like crazy but also... just melt as soon as you praise him right back. Melt and then start jack hammering-

Any teasing that comes from his mouth is purely accidental.

"Ngh- A-amazing job! You're doing wonderful, keep it up!" "Mmm! I think we could take another round after this. What do you say?"

Mitsuri Kanroji:

The type to giggle a lot during sex.

For her, sex is definitely about the emotional connection. So degradation is a no-no. She's more into words of affirmation/praise during sex but keeping it casual enough to crack some jokes here and there.

She gets flustered easily though, don't let the giggling fool you.

"Is... this okay?" "Oh! You liked that! That makes me happy~!"

Sanemi Shinazugawa:

A sucker for teasing.

But if you tease him back it catches him off guard and makes him flustered for sure. Not saying not to do that, but it might make him short circuit.

The horny in me wants him to be into degradation, but I just feel like hardcore degradation isn't his style. I think he'd try to embarrass you but he wouldn't call you names. (if you write him like this though, by all means please do I'm a sucker for being called 'pathetic' by him-)

Similar to Obanai, Sanemi can be a little shy at first. Particularly, Sanemi doesn't really know where to look the first time.

Once he opens up though, hold on for a ride-

"Hold up... Did that just turn you on?" "Don't tell me you're close already, we just got started."

Shinobu Kocho:

Honestly, she's on the same spectrum of being a big tease like Sanemi.

Maybe even worse.

I'm tempted to say she's got a smidge of a kink for degrading people too but that's...

medical kink Sorry, wish I had more for her but my head is now just filled with thoughts of Shinobu in a Halloween nurse costume.

[shxtodxroki]

𝙰𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚍

Summary: You and your boyfriend Katsuki get into an argument when he comes home from work injured, but Katsuki wants to make up for his faults, apologize and be better for you. 

Warnings: Angst, arguing, swearing, mentions of injuries (not inflicted by reader or Katsuki, he just comes home injured from work), mentions of food

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

- You should have seen the signs of an argument brewing long before you did. The air had been noticeably different between you and Katsuki ever since he had returned home, and you knew that your boyfriend never responded well to scolding or anger directed towards him.

- And you were no stranger to expressing your own feelings, you knew you’d be giving him an earful long before he came home after what you had seen on the news earlier that day. 

- So really, you should have expected things to escalate to the point they were at now.

- But honestly, you didn’t care. Of course you never want to fight with Katsuki, you love the man and don’t like when there’s conflict between you two, but unfortunately sometimes arguments can’t be avoided. And right now was one of those times.

- “All I ask is that you tell me when these things happen, Katsuki! So I can be there for you, so I can help you, and so I can stop worrying all the time!” You explained, trying your best to keep your voice level despite your frustration.

- “Why do you need to know?! I’m home now and I’m perfectly fine, shouldn’t that be enough? I’ve told you to stop fucking worrying so much, clearly it’s not good for you!” Katsuki bit back, equally as frustrated.

- Your boyfriend had gotten injured during his hero work earlier in the day, not terribly bad but still enough that he found himself in the hospital after they managed to apprehend the villain he was dealing with. Luckily he hadn’t taken any major damage, and he was patched up and sent home after being thoroughly checked up to ensure there were no underlying injuries, but you still wished he had told you like you had asked.

- You had told your boyfriend before to tell you as soon as possible any time he got hurt on the job, especially if it sent him to the hospital. Even if it was nothing major, you told him that you still wanted to know so that you could be by his side, with him every step of the way to ensure he was okay and fully taken care of.

- However, Katsuki hadn’t told you anything about his injuries that day, and instead you had to find out that he was sent to the hospital through the news as you watched TV, meaning he likely wasn’t planning on telling you at all if you didn’t find out on your own. Being unable to reach him while he was there left you worried sick, and just as you were collecting your things to head out and meet him at the hospital, your boyfriend texted you letting you know he was on his way home.

- From there you waited, anger and frustration building up within you with each second you were left to your own thoughts until he finally arrived home, and you two wound up in the position you now found yourselves in. 

- “How the hell am I not supposed to worry, Katsuki?! If I knew that I could trust you to just tell me when these things happen I wouldn’t be so anxious about you all the time, but I can’t do that because you refuse to do this one thing for me!” You responded immediately, practically pleading with your boyfriend to just communicate with you when he was injured so that you could ease your own worries and help him when these incidents occurred. 

- “Even when I don’t tell you, you sit here watching the news and worry yourself to fuckin death! Just let it go, damn it! I’m a fucking pro hero, I’ll be fine on one damn patrol.” You could tell you were starting to reach the point where neither of you were thinking fully logically, clouded by the frustration your argument caused as you snapped at one another. 

- You could feel tears of frustration burning your eyes, and the water pooling in your boyfriend’s eyes as he spoke indicated he was in a similar state. It was a heart-wrenching sight, as Katsuki almost never cried even in front of you, but both of you continued on, too stubborn to let your own points of view go in your mental clouds of frustration and hurt. 

- “Well excuse me for wanting to make sure my boyfriend is alive at the end of the day! You work one of the most dangerous jobs in the fucking country and you’ve been getting attacked by villains since fucking middle school, Katsuki, of course I’m gonna worry!” You had reached your breaking point, letting out all of your frustrations and fears with no holds barred as you cried to your lover. “I know how you are, I know you’ll save someone even if that means sacrificing your own life, and the thought of losing you eats away at me every single day you leave for work! So excuse me for just asking that you tell me when something goes wrong to ease some of my fears!”

- There was complete silence following your outburst, frustration still burning clear on both of your faces as Katsuki was at a loss for words. Tears were pouring down both of your cheeks at this point, and after sitting in the silence for a moment in an attempt to collect your thoughts, you walked off to your shared bedroom to have time to yourself to cool down from the fight.

- Katsuki followed suit, making his way to the couch in your living room to have some time of his own to let his anger dissipate and to truly think about what you had said and why you were so upset with him. 

- Katsuki knew why you worried about him, of course he did. Obviously you loved and cared about him, and this naturally lead you to worry when his job required him to put his life on the line every single day for the sake of others.

- But even though he knew why you worried, that stubborn part of him that lived inside of him ever since he was born struggled to just let you care, to let you worry about him. 

- It made him feel weak, like you shouldn’t have to worry about him and that he should be good enough at his job that you’d never have to worry about him coming home injured (or worse, not coming home at all).

- But, Katsuki realized as he reflected on his actions and the reasons behind them in the dim light of your shared living room, that wasn’t how reality worked. No matter how amazing he was at his job he would always be at risk, and he needed to accept that he could never be the perfect hero. 

- It wasn’t fair for him to expect you not to worry. He wasn’t being fair to you, he could see that now. All you had asked of him was to simply tell you when he got injured, and his stubbornness and pride had gotten in the way of your simple request. Again.

- Katsuki quietly groaned to himself at the realization, hiding his hands in his face in shame. He put you through so much every single day, working and risking his life as one of the top heroes in the country, and at the end of the day he had only made things worse for you by not even being willing to call and communicate with you when he was injured to help appease your worries.

- He felt like the worst boyfriend ever, tears still rolling down his cheeks from your argument as his internal frustration at himself boiled over.

- But he didn’t want to allow himself to turn this issue into a pity party for himself. He had fucked up, and rather than lamenting and simmering in it and using it as an excuse to never do better and lose you, the thing he cared about more than anything else in the word, he needed to do his part in fixing his mistake.

- Wiping his eyes quickly with a tissue as he stood, Katsuki quickly rose up from the couch and began to make his way to your shared bedroom. If you shooed him off and asked for space then he would give you more time to yourself, but if you were willing to let him, Katsuki wanted to apologize and right his wrong sooner rather than later. 

- Katsuki made his way to your bedroom door quietly, peeking in to see you staring down at your hands as tears continued to fall down on your face. He could see that the argument had left you feeling incredibly hurt and frustrated, and he wasn’t going to let you feel so upset over his actions for even a moment longer.

- You turned your head in surprise as you heard a gentle knock on the door, not knowing what to do or say when you saw your boyfriend’s crestfallen face in the door frame. You couldn’t seem to form words at the moment, unsure of what to say following your argument from just moments ago, so you found yourself silently watching as he entered the room and took the place beside you on the bed.

- Your boyfriend had never been good with conflict or admitting when he was wrong, that much you had gathered from your time together. You had expected to be the first one to approach him and apologize, like you typically were, once you had both cooled down. 

- Which was why your eyebrows raised in shock as Katsuki opened his mouth and spoke his first words to you since the argument.

- “...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Was all he managed at first, but the apology was enough to leave you completely stunned as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close in a tight hug.

- “I know I wasn’t being fair to you. I know I’m an idiot with a fuckin scary job and you have to deal with that every day, and you’re right to be worried. I was just too far up my own ass to let my pride go, and I’m sorry about that. The last thing I want is to hurt you or make you worry.” He continued, pressing your face gently against his chest as he apologized. His hand cradled the back of your head so gently, and the apologies that fell from his lips were so genuine, that you just pulled him in tighter as relief washed over you at him finally understanding your position.

- “Thank you for listening, Suki.” You responded, finally pulling away to look your boyfriend in the eyes as you spoke. “I know that my worries may seem overbearing to you sometimes, but I can’t just not worry when you risk your life every day. I love you so much, the thought of losing you makes me feel absolutely sick to my stomach and it’s not easy to deal with that every day.”

- “I know babe, I know. You’re not overbearing, I’m sorry that I have to stress you out like that every day.” He reassured you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead to help ease your tension.

- “It’s your dream, Suki, and I’d never try to take that away from you.” You promised him, knowing that hero work was something he’d longed for ever since he was a small child. “Just promise me that from now on, you’ll tell me when you get hurt. Even small injuries, I want to be by your side when you’re being treated and be able to help you, for both of our sakes.”

- “That I can do, I swear this time I mean it.” A grin finally made it’s way across your boyfriend’s face, your worried brows finally relaxing as you realized that things were going to be okay between the two of you. Both of you were learning and growing together in your relationship, and you were incredibly proud of your boyfriend for getting over his pride and being the first to apologize to you after realizing his wrongdoings. 

- Katsuki wiped the remaining tear stans off of your face with the back of his hand as he leaned in to press a sweet kiss to your pouty lips, hugging you once more before standing up from the bed and reaching a hand out to help you up.

- “What do you say I make you dinner and we spend the rest of the night together, huh? I’ll call off work tomorrow, so we can stay up late and watch that new movie you’ve been wanting to see.” He offered, a bright grin lighting up your face as his suggestion. “Take it as my way of apologizing for being a fucking idiot to the best partner I could ever ask for.”

- “That sounds like a wonderful idea, Suki.” You responded with a smirk, taking the hand he had offered to you as the remaining frustration seeped out of your pores and was replaced with love and content. You two would make it through this, like you always did, and you knew that in the end, your relationship would be stronger because of today’s revelations.

Request - @thekaylahub​ said: hello, i hope you doing well! i saw that you’re requests were open so i just decided to submit a little something. i’d like to request like a hurt/comfort of bakugou and reader getting into like a bad fight/argument (i don’t care what the fight is over!) and the two of them end up in tears?? but instead of the reader being the one to apologize first, can it be bakugou? like he’s the one who approaches the reader and just comforts them and apologizes profusely?! please take your time and don’t feel like you have to do this one if you don’t want to!💕

A/N: I’m honestly really proud of this, I feel like I’m getting better at writing realistic dialogue and spacing out events, even in a short piece like this one, better and I’m just really happy with the way this turned out. :) Also I swear I’ll write individual pieces for more than just Bakugo, he’s not even my own personal favorite character (I do thunk he's really interesting and fun to write for though) but I definitely get the most requests for him, and a lot of interesting requests too! I don’t have a ton of requests to get through right now, though, so if you have any requests please feel free to send them my way, especially headcanons as those are definitely my forte!

Taglist: @pasteldaze​ @yeagerfushiguro​ @papijean​ @deadmans-toe @trashy-bowtie​ @palenightmarepersona​ @thekaylahub @applepie-macaroon​

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[k1ttykatsu]

“SLUT ME OUT”- NLE Choppa

-parings:katsuki bakugo x fem reader!

-summary: you and your boyfriend has an onlyfans.

-warnings: fucking on camera, blowjobs,(throat fucking) fingering, handcuffs, slight spit, praise, degradation, mean katsuki, dom katsuki, sub reader and bad ending.

-word count: 2k

A/N: i did not proof read!

@/dynamight is going live in 5 minutes!!

is what was plastered on your anxious viewers screen. five minutes till your views see you and your boyfriend doing some of the most lewd things on camera.

you loved your job, and so did katsuki, doing the thing he loves with the person he loves most and getting paid on top of that…this was katsuki’s personal heaven.

the two of you rake in at least 3k a stream. and you stream at least 3 times a week so you make around 9k+ a month. you were thankful that denki made that stupid comment about the two of you looking like a ‘pornstar couple’. at first you were opposed when bakugo wanted to make that joke a reality, but you realized you had nothing to lose.

“kat’s 3 minutes babe,” you say to your boyfriend who’s in the bathroom making sure he looks good. “k’” he said walking to you, you stand up from off the chair and he sits down in your place making you sit in his lap facing him. “you look really pretty babe” katsuki says before kissing your cheek, making you giggle. “thank u babe” you say while wrapping your arms around his neck.

after sitting in comfortable silence for two minutes you hear the 60 second timer countdown. “you gonna turn around or sit like this?” you don’t say anything, you just stand up and sit facing the camera. you smile once you see the screen counting down the last 10 seconds.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

“hi guys” you say with your voice sounding as sweet as hunny, you look and see the chat go crazy. you laugh and look at your boyfriend who has his natural pout on his face. “loosen up dynamite” you say with a teasing tone. he looks down and smiles before pecking your lips.

you look back at the chat and see everyone talking about what you have in store for this stream. you feel your boyfriend start to kiss your neck slightly making you hum. “well guys…we were gonna surprise y’all but i can’t keep a secret.” you say in a teasing tone. “we wanted to do something a little different.” you feel katsuki smirk on your neck “gonna’ fuck her throat” he says while snaking his hand up to your neck pulling it back slightly. you grind back on him a bit making him groan.

@/dynamiteswhore: sometimes i wish i was princess :(

you read the comment and laugh, and tap katsuki’s thigh making him look up and the screen, he reads the comment before laughing. “keep dreaming”. he says while rolling his eyes. he lets go of your neck and stops the kisses on your neck and cheeks. “he’s so rude” you say cutting your eyes towards him while rolling your hips in circles. katsuki’s sits back while you entertain the chat.

@/sluttythings: is he really your boyfriend?

you look at the question and laugh before answering. “no, he’s just my friend” you say knowing that it’s gonna rile katsuki up. he sits up quickly before rolling his eyes. “i’m her fucking boyfriend idiot” he says while pinching your thigh slightly. you moan quietly and smile.

“can we get on with this shit,” bakugo says real snarky. you roll your eyes before standing up. bakugo rolls the chair back so there’s enough room for the stream to be able to see you. you have on a big t-shirt with only a thong on beneath it. you slowly walk over to katsuki with your back towards the screen. once you get to him he stops you from moving. he lifts up your shirt showing the stream your ass and the pink thong that’s nuzzled between your ass cheeks.

you smile at him as he spreads them apart right before smacking your left cheek. you moan and grip his back making sure you don’t fall from the aggressive slaps. “ya’ see this ass, it’s mine” he says while talking to the camera. you giggle a bit before pulling your shirt off of your body.

“show them how fucking perfect you are” bakugo says before placing another smack on your bum. you turn around and you see the chat go wild.

@/pussyworship:princess is so hot

@/humanviberator:look at thoes tits man

@/lovedynamitesgirl:i wanna fuck her

@/wannasmash: my girlfriend thinks ur hot.

“look at that baby, you got the crowd going wild” you look and see about five donations being sent with the price range between 2,0000¥-4,0000¥.

“you guys are too kind” you say while smiling. you feel katsuki hand on your hips turning you back in his direction. you smile once you see him turn his chair sideways so the stream can see every move without your head being in the way.

you see katsuki with a pair of cuffs in his hand, when the hell did he get those? you look at him with confusion and bakugo smirks before looking at the camera. “her favorite thing to say is cuff me” he says before pushing your arms behind your back and cuffing them. “is this really necessary?” you say before rolling your eyes. soon after bakugo pulls down his calvin klein boxer briefs, his dick spring up lightly slapping his abdomen.

bakugo looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed before his thick fingers wrap around your neck lifting you up a bit. “watch your fucking mouth brat” you whimper at the tightness but your panties dampen from the authority. you nod your head and he lets you go slightly. once he fully let go you choke out a quick cough making bakugo laugh.

@/pimpinnosimpin:did you see the way he choked her?”

@/lover123:@/pimpinnosimpin so fucking hot.

“let’s go princess we don’t have all day” you hear your boyfriend above you say. you roll your eyes before responding back with an attitude. “well i don’t have control over my hands asshole, so you’ll have to he-” your words are cut off by bakugo tangling his hand in your hair, stuffing his cock deep in your mouth.

the sounds of your gagging and bakugo moans are immediately heard. you feel tears pooling at your waterline, you feel your head being yanked up and down by bakugo rough hands.

after a while bakugo lift’s your head up making you choke from the sudden air, you cough and sputter up drool and pre-cum, you look up and see bakugo with a wicked grin on his face. “next time don’t get snippy baby.” he says while slapping your cheek lightly. you sniffle and pout “m’ sorry baby” you say with hot tears falling down your face.

you see bakugo turn his head to look at the chat. “baby they think it’s cute when you cry.” he says in a teasing voice, you look up at him and pout already knows what he’s gonna do. bakugo takes his dick in his hand and slaps the tip on your plump lips. “her lips were made for sucking cock” he says while chuckling.

“You're so mean dynamite” you say pouting hoping he would go semi easy on you. “it’s only because i love you princess” he says before slowly entering his dick in your mouth.

he grabs your hair again controlling your actions. you moan and gag around him making his eyes roll back. “fuck babe your perfect.”

he lifts your head off him again making you cough. you smile once you catch your breath, wanting him to tell you that he’s proud of you for not complaining this time. “you really are perfect huh?” you giggle before moving your head forward licking up his shaft making him groan. “only for you baby” you say once your mouth stops its actions.

bakugo smiles before tapping your lip with his cock letting you know to open your mouth. you open wide and stick your tongue anxiously waiting for him to insert himself back into your mouth. but suddenly you hear a ‘puth’ sound and you feel a hot substance on your tongue.

“swallow” is all he says before watching you swallow his saliva. he grins before taping your lip again, but this time his cock is fully slotted in your mouth. “mhm baby” he says while letting his eyes close and his head fall back. you gag once again making his eyes shoot open. you suddenly feel a hand snake around your throat pressing down on your pulse point.

you choke from the pressure and he whimpers. he suddenly starts thrusting into your mouth making tears run down your face. “i’m gonna cum baby” he whines out while going faster. you feel katsuki hands pull you into his arms, (sort of in a headlock) making you slob all over yourself. you feel katsuki thrust three more times before you hear a sound you’ve never heard him make before. it was a high pitched whine mixed with expletives, you felt yourself clench as you felt katsuki’s hot thick cum spurt in the back of your throat.

it takes about a minute after his orgasam that katsuki lets you go, a loud ‘pop’ sound is heard once he lets go. you see katsuki smirk before pointing at your chest that’s covered in saliva and cum. “let's go show the camera baby” he says before picking you up off the floor and turning you around so he can undo the handcuffs.

once he’s done he sits you in his lap scooting the chair towards the camera. “look at her chat, such a sloppy bitch” he says before looking you in your eyes and smiling when he sees your pout. you look away from him and look at the camera, giving them a good look at your saliva slicked chest. “he’s so mean chat” your words comes out raspy making katsuki snicker.

@/no1fan22:he sure did do a number on her.

you laugh and look back at your boyfriend before kissing his lips. you take him by surprise, but that doesn’t last long because you soon feel him grabbing at your ass making you moan.

you pull away slowly wanting to tease him a bit. you smile before sitting back into your boyfriends lap quietly. “yea she’s a fucking wonderful girlfriend.” you hear katsuki say while interacting with the chat a bit.

wanting to gain your boyfriend's attention again, you slowly circle your hips against his semi-hard length. you feel his hands attempt to still your movements but he’s no match. “babe pleaseee” you say dragging out the e at the end. he laughs before looking back at the chat, “do you guys think she deserves to get her pretty pussy played with?” 

you look at your boyfriend and pout before turning back to the chat. “please chat” you say with the same innocent pout but your tone was far from it. you knew you had the chat wrapped around your pretty little finger, and so did katsuki, he knew you used it to your advantage every stream and to be honest he wasn’t mad about it.

@/goodboy123: how could we say no to her?

@/reallifeskater: we wanna see her pretty pussy asshole.

@/princessslut: show us the pussy!!

you and katsuki laugh once you read the chat. it was clear that the chat wanted to see you in all your glory.

@/princessslut donated 3,0000¥!

“awe thank you babe” you say giving an air kiss to the screen. you look over to your boyfriend and smile. “babe i think they wanna see you handle me” your voice is teasingly satisfying.

bakugo nods before placing a kiss to your cheek, from your cheek he makes his way down to your neck. he starts sucking lightly at the skin. you moan slightly. since your back is to his chest and you are facing the camera you see all the comments about the two of you being the hottest streaming couple.

“mhm, please babe” you say as his hands start palming your tits. you feel his smirk against your neck making you feel fuzzy inside. katsuki’s hands move down towards your thighs making you smile.

his hands slowly trace their way down to your thighs stopping mid way. you feel them creep between them making you open your legs wider. “please” you say, your voice sounds like it’s straining. “only because you treated me so well baby. you smile once you feel his thick fingers ghost over the area that you needed him the most.

katsuki moves the chair back slightly making sure everyone can see the scene that is playing out. you feel katsuki’s fingers press down onto the front of your thong making you whimper. “she’s so wet chat, it’s fucking pathetic” he says while continuing to press down slightly.

you feel katsuki’s fingers hook his finger onto the edge of your thong, slowly pulling it down your leg. once it’s completely off you feel his fingers spread your lips apart making you moan. “prettiest pussy you’ll ever see, and it’s all mine” he says before placing a harsh slap to your pussy making you jolt slightly.

“babyyy” you say in a whining voice making him chuckle. “not’ funny” is all you say before you feel one of his fingers begin to rub figure 8’s into your pussy. “fuck that feels so good baby” you say before feeling him insert a finger into you.

“feel good baby?” you nod your head and he laughs. “i know it does” he says while inserting another finger. “fuck dynamite” you say while closing your eye and letting your head fall back. “babe i’m close” you say while breathing heavily in his ear. you feel katsuki’s dick nestled between your asscheeks making you want more of him.

“come on slutty girl, cum for dynamite” is what pushes you over the edge. while cuming you feel your toes curl and you feel hot tears stream down your face. “that’s my good fucking girl” he says before slapping your overstimulated pussy. you feel your legs twitch and you never want this feeling to end.

“come on pretty girl”  he says while squeezing your cheeks trying to get you to regain your composure. “sorry” you say while still in lala land. “What are you sorry about babe?” he says while chucking. your so fucked out it’s hilarious.

“babe i want you” your words are slurring together. now katsuki laughs, and he laughs hard. “babe you could barely take my finger’s now you think you could take my cock?” you nod your head aggressively making him look at the camera.

“y’all think my baby can take it?” you sit up and watch the chat with bakugo. you and him already know that it’s gonna happen but he likes to get the chat involved and make them feel included.

@/minimight:i think she can take it tbh.

@/s1aterr: just do it already 🙄

bakugo laughs at the chat before looking at you. “okay since everyone thinks you can take it, your gonna take it alright sweetheart?” you nod eagerly and smile.

you feel katsuki lift you up a bit, taking his dick in his hands and slapping it against your ass. “babe stop teas-” your words were cut off once you felt katsuki insert himself inside you. you sink all the way down with a moan making him groan. “come on baby fuck yourself” he says through strained words.

you start to pounce on the man beneath you making his grips on his feel like fire. “dynamite” you moan out making him slap your ass. “best fucking cunt ever, so good” his words fall onto deaf ears as you feel yourself start to blank out.

your body feels tired and you don’t think you can continue. bakugo notices that you slow down resulting in him fucking into you. “tell me how good it feels, come on baby tell me” he says while snaking his hand to the front of you and grabbing your neck and choking you.

“so good baby sooo good” you feel yourself getting closer to your climax, and you think bakugo realizes as well because he starts fucking into you faster, making your tits bounce harshly. at this point you're screaming, and whining you and you hear katsuki groan.

“m’ gonna cum babe, i’m gonna fucking cum” that sentence pushes you to the edge, you feel your toes curl and before you could register it you scream out, “i’m cuming, i’m fucking cuming” you feel weightless, like your body ascended.

once you release you feel katsuki’s hips stutter and after two more thrust you feel his hot cum spurt inside you. “fuckkkk” he lets out as he releases. the two of you sit back and catch your breaths before making any sudden moves

after about 2 minutes you sit up and look at the chat.

@/favoriteslut: i just came everywhere.

@/number1fan:best orgasm ever.

you see numerous people talking about their orgasms and how hot you two were.  after a while you feel katsuki sit up, he kisses your shoulders and your neck making you giggle.

“top 10 fuck” is all he says before you start laughing. he turns you around so he can kiss your lips. he instantly smashed his agains you’re making you moan into the kiss. you feel him scoot forward but you don’t pay it any attention.

your boyfriend sticks up the middle finger at the stream before pressing a button.

thanks for coming to dynamite’s live show, see you next time!

[imaginesbygrace]

i'm sorry (Rio)

Masterlist

Forgiving Rio was hard. You couldn’t fault him for his past, because everyone, even you, had baggage. But when that baggage comes knocking and asking for a job—and Rio complies—you can’t help but feel a bit annoyed. 

But still, you tried to be understanding, maybe this was just the kind of thing that girls with criminal boyfriends deal with? Still, he made you feel about this small when he couldn’t bother to stop Beth’s shameless flirting and lingering touches. So, you packed a bag and left. And then stayed gone. 

Rio got nothing more than a short two minute phone call explaining that you were done, why and to never speak to you again. He didn’t think you were serious. Yeah, he could admit that he fucked him, and he fucked up bad—-still, he didn’t think you’d ignore him for this long. 

Rio sent flowers to work and your new apartment. He had Mick tailing you everywhere, fixing any problem or issue to come into your path. He complies with your choice to cut him off, verbally anyway. Rio didn’t contact you once, no letters or calls. Mick followed you at a distance, giving you some semblance of normalcy. He doesn’t go near you. 

He sends food from his grandma, all your favorites because he didn’t want you to miss out on them because of him. Sometimes his grandmother even calls to invite you over, promising that Rio wouldn’t be in attendance and she has been true to her word since. 

It took six months before Rio snapped. He decided he was done sitting around and waiting for you to give him the chance to earn your forgiveness, he’d go find you and get you back before that idea even crossed your mind. 

Rio opted to go without any gifts, but with groceries. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous, he was nervous, finger shaking anxious. It took him five minutes of almost knocking your door before he actually knocked on your door. 

The following fifteen seconds were the longest fifteen seconds of his life. Not that any of it mattered when you opened the door, and Rio was shocked into silence while looking at you. It wasn’t that you had changed since he last saw you, it had just been so long since he actually saw you. 

You tucked your hair, which was still wet from the shower you took before dinner, behind your ear. You were in leggings and a hoodie, comfortable and beautiful. “Hey,” he finally spoke. 

“What are you doing here Rio?” He winced. Rio. He wasn’t expecting an endearing greeting per se, but a Chris would’ve been better than nothing. 

Rio racked his mind for his reasoning to break her demand of separation. The weight of the bags in his hands sucked him back to reality: he has to win you back and actually talking would be a good start. So he lifts the bags, “I was hoping I could cook you dinner.” 

You don’t answer, just lift your eyebrows at him in question. Did he really think you’d just forgive him? Finally, with a small huff and all the attitude in the world you answer him, “You must have confused me with someone else.” This time Rio’s brows lift. “I’m not one of those soccer moms you boss around like trash, Rio. I was your girlfriend and I expected you to treat me as such, with respect and as your equal. And if you think some ass kissing, major stalking, or any of this other nonsense is enough without even actually apologizing—” you took a breath— “-then you got another thing coming.” 

With that said, you slammed the door shut in his face. So he tried again the next day. This time, speaking the moment the door swung open. “I’m sorry.” Rio sighed softly. “I ain’t mean to hurt you like that, you’re more important than some old side piece. Business aside, I’ll have Mick do all the drops and have someone else meet with them if they need something,” He promised.” You don’t say anything and he takes it as his chance to continue.

“I brought food again. I owe you dinner, and so much more. Please, mama, give me the chance to earn your trust back.” You stared up at him for some time and Rio’s heart dropped lower and lower with every passing second. Just as he was about to take a step back and apologize, you turned around and walked back inside—leaving the door open. Rio smiled at the empty space where you had stood and quickly followed behind.

[arisewanekosuki]

Bakeneko!Kunikuzushi x Fem!Reader

Drawing: @fusaex3​  Warnings: Mentions of decapitation of background character, blood, Reader's life was threatened two times. This is NOT Yandere fic, Yōkais are beings that are not good but not bad either, they do whatever they want, Kuni may be a bit ooc, long fic. This is my first time writing a story like this and English is not my main language, so sorry for any mistakes.

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You were going back home after stressful day of work. Your job as waitress in Uyuu Restaurant is not that bad but today some important people were visiting and your boss wanted everything to be perfect for them. Gladly you didn’t made any mistake and even wife of the boss was kind enough to give you some food as a bonus for doing great job. You jumped after hearing thunder and looked behind you, the dark clouds with storm were fast approaching, not wanting to get caught in the rain you start walk faster towards your village. -“meow” You stopped in your track and saw an adorable little cat under the tree. -“Aww aren’t you a cute one?” you always loved cats so you couldn’t help yourself and approach the little fellow. Before you could get any closer the cat run to you and started to rub it’s head against your legs, purring. -“Not only cute but a friendly one!” you crouched down to pet your new friend, the cat seemed delighted by your action. You felt something wet on your nose and then more drops started to fell from the sky. The cat took your whole attention that you didn’t realize that the whole sky was covered in dark clouds already. You couldn’t left this kitten in this rain and storm so you took it in your arms and ran towards your home. You tried to cover your little friend with your body so it wouldn’t get that much wet but it was useless at this point, the weather was getting worse and worse. 

Finally after reaching your home, first what you did was placing the cat on the floor and then box with food on the table, running towards bathroom to take some towels. When you came back you rubbed dry the little fellow with a towel, trying to be gentle. The cat seemed to not mind, surprisingly it was sitting calmly and let you do the thing. After making sure that cat wasn’t wet anymore you went to your bathroom to dry yourself and change into more comfortable clothes. After leaving bathroom you saw that cat was sitting by the box you got from work. -“Are you hungry?” at you question the cat looked at you and started meowing. -“How lucky that Okazaki-san gave me some fish as well!” You opened the box, taking the fishes that the cat can eat and put in front it while you eat the rest of the contents of the box. With every thunder you would slightly jump, you always hated storms like this, especially after you started to live alone. The cat seemed to notice your anxious state and it went to your lap, lying down and starting purring, hoping it will take your attention from bad weather. You started to pet it, trying your best to just put your whole attention on your little friend. -“Are you trying to comfort me? Thank you, you are such a lovely kitten.” You smiled. “I hope you’ll stay with me, sometimes it’s get little lonely in this house.” The cat looked at you adorably -“You’re truly the cutest cat I ever saw! And I did saw many of them!” you laughed. The cat meowed at you, starting purring louder. This evening you spent talking to your new friend about your day, till you get tired and decided it’s time to sleep. You took cat in your arms and went to your small bedroom. After preparing futon, you lied down, petting place close to your head to invite cat to join you. The cat quickly walked towards you and lied down and started purring again. -“Goodnight, have a nice dreams.” You said to it, closing your eyes and falling asleep. When the cat was sure you were in deep sleep, it get closer to you putting it little paw on your neck, it was observing you movements, after a while the little fellow went back to its previous spot like changing its mind whatever it wanted to do to you. If you only woke up now you would hear a male voice reply with "goodnight". Three days passed after your home welcomed a new resident, the past days were filled with happiness, in the morning you would eat breakfast with your cat, then it would follow you to your job, like making sure that you are safe in morning hours, after work you would come back home to be welcomed by cat that would meow happily at you, the two of you would eat dinner that you would prepare and then play with the cat, or read to it some novels you bought.  At first you wondered if you have some hole somewhere in wall for your cat to get back in the house without a problem, but you were too happy that the little fellow liked you so much that it wanted to go back on its own to your place so you didn’t think too long about it. Today was another day when you were coming back home, you were excited and couldn’t wait to see Tama, that’s a name you gave to him for now, the cat wasn’t seemed happy with this name. Tama gave you weird look when you started called him with this name, you even told him that you couldn’t came up with other name and it was the first time when your cat looked at you like you’re stupid. Today you bought some toys that Tama may enjoy, having hope that it will be enough to improve the little fellow mood. You couldn’t wait to see Tama’s reaction, so with happy steps you were going towards your village. On the road you saw some young man standing, like waiting for someone, you couldn't help but notice this person clothes that looked more expensive from what you wore. “Ah I wish I could afford clothes like this. Hmm... Is he from some clan? But why is he alone then?” you thought. -“Ah good morning~” the young man said after noticing you and smiled. He looked like he was genuinely happy to see you, but you never meet anyone like him before, right? After all it would be impossible to forget such beautiful man like him. -“G-good morning, today is really nice day isn’t it?” you responded with polite smile, you couldn’t help but start to appreciate the stranger looks, pale skin, indigo hair that covered his ears, as well as indigo eyes with bold red eyeliner, the stranger’s eyes reminded you of Tama’s ones. -“It is, it’s perfect weather for a walk don’t you think miss? Oh? If I may ask, what is this in this basket?” the stranger asked, even his voice was lovely, you started to feel relaxed by it and didn’t think too much before responding. -“Ah! Its’ toys for my cat Tama! I really hope he will like it” you said with enthusiasm, the young men hummed at response and then said -“Tama? Such an ugly name…” -“Eh? I think it’s cute name… but my cat doesn't seem to like it either… but I couldn't come up with any other one” you said a bit embarrassed. The stranger smiled. -“How about calling him Kunikuzushi?” Kunikuzushi? That’s very unusual name. -“Kunikuzushi?” when you said the name the stranger’s smile widen. “Why such a name?” you asked. -“I think it suits him.” Before you ask why he think so, when you never even described your cat in the first place, you noticed the child from your village no far away trying to climb the tree. -“Oi! Don’t climb it! You’ll get hurt!” you turned to say goodbyes to stranger but he wasn’t there anymore. “How did he do that?” you wondered before going to the child telling him how dangerous is to climb such big tree and being alone so far away from village. 

After returning child to the grandparents the day went normally, Tama was happy with new toys and you couldn’t stop smiling how adorable it looked when playing with them. When the time for bed came you couldn’t help but think what stranger told you. Will Tama be more happy with that name? You looked at your side, Tama wasn’t there, so you called. -“Ta-… uhm… Kunikuzushi!” the cat never came so quickly before like now. -“Oh? So you really prefer this name? Kunikuzushi?” You asked and the cat started meowing happily, rubbing its head to your hand and purring. -“Woah I think this is first time seeing you that happy!” you smiled, taking cat in your arms, the cat stared with half closed eyelids and slowly blinked at you, repeatedly. -“Aww are you giving me kisses?” you couldn’t help but leave small kiss on cats forehead. You lied down on your futon, Tama, no, Kunikuzushi seems to make himself comfortable on your chest, so you let him sleep here. -“Goodnight, have a nice dreams” you said before falling asleep to the sound of purring cat. The week past by after adopting Kunikuzushi, you were coming back home from work, today was hard day but you earned so much money! Tomorrow is your day off so you can take Kunikuzushi to the city with you and spoil both of you with something. -“Oh maybe I should take Kuni to shop to choose a new toy? Or I’ll buy some big fish and prepare something delicious for both of us? Ah Thoma-san can make some cute clothes for animals, maybe I should commission him to make one for Kuni!” Thinking about how to spend day with your beloved cat you didn’t noticed someone approaching you from behind. Before you could even scream you mouth was covered by hand and sword pointed to your neck. -“If you want to live, give me all your mora” from looking at sword you can tell it’s belongs to a ronin, how unlucky, you thought that ronins won’t get close to the road at this time of the day. Without wanting to make man angry you reached for the bag filled with mora and gave to him. He whistled, checking contents of the bag. -“Hah, that will be enough, be grateful that I’m in good mood, you can life another day” the ronin left and you ran towards the city. You came back more later than normally, the Doushin from Tenryou commission told you that they will try find this ronin and promised to put more people to check the road. It may take awhile before you got the whole money back, but at least you should be thankful that the man didn’t decided to kill you after taking your money. When you opened door to your house the cat wasn’t there like always. -“Kuni?” nothing, you closed the door and checked bedroom and bathroom calling his name “Kunikuzushi? Pspsps” the cat was nowhere. The tears welled in your eyes, you were robbed, you could lose your life today and now the only companion you had, left you. You slumped on the wall and sit on the floor, bringing head to your knees you started sobbing. After a while you felt something rubbing on your legs -“Kuni!” your beloved cat was here, you took Kuni in your arms, happy that he didn’t left you. -“Don’t scare me like that! I thought you left!” the cat licked your tears like it wanted to say “Don’t cry, I won’t left you” After you calmed down you prepared some fish for Kuni but you didn't eat anything, not having appetite. The cat noticed it and brought his fish for you like trying to tell ‘you should eat’. -“It’s okay Kuni, just eat, I’m not hungry” you said patting Kuni’s head. The cat was looking around, then he went and bring his plush mouse to you. -“I’m sorry Kuni, today I’m not in the mood for playing” you apologized, you couldn't stop thinking how your live could end so easily earlier in the day, you still felt that sword touching your neck. -“I think I’m going to sleep, tomorrow…” you wanted to say that you can go to the city to buy something but you realized that you don’t have the money for spoiling yourself and Kuni, good that you still have some savings in the house so you don't have to worry about starving with your kitten till the next pay up. When you lied down, you couldn’t help but tell to your cat what happened today, you know that Kuni is a smart cat but even now you know that he can’t understand stuff like that, you just hoped that talking about it aloud will help you feel better. When you finally fell  asleep, Kuni got up from his spot and on his two legs went to the door swinging his tail in irritation. -"Haa, to think some pathetic worm even dare to try to ruin my peaceful life with my human tsk". The very next day, when you woke up you were feeling a little better, after eating breakfast you decided to go with Kuni for a walk to the city, even if you won’t be able to buy anything, you still wanted to enjoy this day with your beloved cat. You put Kuni into the basket and went off. After reaching the city you saw some ladies gossiping to each other. -“It has to be Kitsune! Or Oni!” the one lady said. -“I’m not so sure Himura-san, would really Yōkai be wandering so far away from Chinju Forest?” the other lady replied not believing her friend. -“But Takano-san, even if some samurais can behead someone perfectly, nobody has claws to make the face so unrecognizable and mutilated the body in such way! It has to be Yōkai!” you couldn’t help but wonder what those ladies talk about, are they referring to new novel? Lately the novels about Yōkais started to get popular, even you bought one called “The love story of a certain Bakeneko” but you didn’t had time to read it yet. -“(Y/n)-chan!” You turned around, there stood Okazaki-san, she waved to you to come to her -“Good Morning Okazaki-san” you said, bowing politely. -“Good Morning! Did you hear? Whole city talks about it! Today in the morning not far from the city body was found!” -“Body? Someone was murdered? That’s awful! Do you know who was the victim?” you asked with concern in your voice. -“I think nobody know who he was? Only one thing was sure the body belonged to ronin. That’s so scary! Some people say that the Yōkai is a culprit!... Oh? What a cute cat!” Okazaki-san suddenly noticed Kuni in the basket. -“Thank you! I was planning to buy some toy or big fish but…” Okazaki-san noticed your hesitation to continue. -“Did something happened? Did my husband forgot to pay you?” -“No,no! I… well… I was robed yesterday, the ronin took all my mora…”Okazaki-san gasped. -“What if that ronin is the same one which was murdered?! Well I wouldn’t be surprised if karma got to him so fast, after all how dare he rob such hard working and kind girl like you!” said Okazaki-san so sure that what she says must be true. -“You should go to find Doushin! Maybe they found your mora!” you thanked the boss’ wife, biding her goodbye and went searching for Doushin. In the end you were told no mora was found by the body, if the ronin was the same from yesterday then probably the person who killed him took everything. The day went by, some children would be amazed by Kuni, asking if they can pet your cat, Kuni surprised you when he started to hiss at children, apologizing, you said that the cat don’t like to be touched by people he doesn’t know. -“And I thought you’re friendly fellow, you surprised me Kuni.” You said to your cat, Kuni didn’t even looked at you, what you realized that after saying goodbyes to Okazaki-san, your cat looked like it was upset. The dinner time was approaching so you ended you walk around city and went back to your home to prepare one. When you opened the door you almost dropped basket with Kuni. On the table was bag, no, three bags of mora, there were some blood on it too, your cat jumped from the basket approaching the bags. -“What?! W-why is this here?” You were terrified, does that mean the person who killed that ronin broke into your house? -“Kuni, get back into basket, we need to leave now!” You said, scared that this person may be in your home, waiting to strike. -“Why? Shouldn't you be happy to get your money back? Also it will be more problematic if you tell Doushin about it.” You hold your breath and slowly looked at your cat. Kuni was standing on his two back legs like a human, tail wagging behind him. What happened to your beloved cat? The voice it spoke with… it sounded like- -“Like the guy’s from 5 days ago, yes that was me. I couldn’t stand that name, Tama, ugh..” the cat looked disgusted by that name “but at the time I didn’t wanted to show you what really I am.” The cat responded, like he was reading your thoughts. Yes, he had the voice of that young man but this time, the voice didn’t make you feel relaxed. -“What?” you were confused, what’s going on? -“What’s wrong (Y/n)? Aren’t you happy that we can now talk? Weren’t you always saying how nice it would be if I can talk?” you were getting ready to open door and run but before you could do that human hand slammed door, close to your head.  You just blinked and before you now stood that pretty young boy from before, but you noticed how his human ears weren’t there and on top of his head were cat ones. -“When we first meet I thought you’ll leave me in that rain, if you did that I planned to follow you and kill you in your sleep but..” Kunikuzushi put his hand on your cheek, caressing it gently.”I didn’t expect you to take me in, dry me, feed me, gave me place to sleep. I felt conflicted back then, I still thought about cutting your head yet…” he looked at you with gentles, now holding your face in both of his hands “I couldn’t bring myself to do that. You reminded me of the past, when I was still just a regular cat, living with humans.“ he smiled, looking so innocent “This warm feelings… how long it was since I felt like that? That day I lost everything, but now…” he started to get closer to your face, you could hear purr coming from him. You were to scared to move, to even say anything.  He continued -“I do enjoy living with you, so…” he gently kissed your lips, it seems he didn’t mind that you didn’t kiss him back. “Let this kiss be a proof of my promise that from now I’ll always protect you but…” he’s tone got lower, the way he glared at you sent shivers down your spine.”…you have to promise to never ever tell anyone what I am.” -“Wh-what will happen if I do?” you finally gathered courage to ask. Kunikuzushi laughed. -“No matter how much I like you, if you broke a promise then I’ll have to cut your pretty head off. So if you value your life, keep your mouth shut~” he smiled, but this smile wasn’t kind, this smile made you heart beat  faster that you thought it will stop soon. The bakeneko held you close, petting your head. -“ Alala~ What’s with that face? I think you should consider yourself lucky, it’s not easy to win mine affection but you did it without any problem~” he took your hand, placing it on his head. -“I’m still your beloved Kuni, am I not? I even get rid of that pathetic worm that laid their hands on you, aren’t you happy?” -“That ronin… did you… did you killed him?” -“Hmph, are you deaf or just dumb? I already told you that, yes, I did kill him.” The boy let you go and went to sit on the floor by your table. Right now you had a chance to open the door and run, scream for help but you couldn’t move. -“Tsk. Don't even think about it, even if you run away I’ll find you wherever you go. “he grimaced, you didn't like that look on his pretty face but you got a feeling from now on you’ll see this grimace more often. You gulped and asked -“What are you planning to do with me?” the boy looked at the bloody bags filled with mora. -“What? Do you think I’m going to eat you or something? Don’t think too highly of yourself, human meat is disgusting.” He sighed and looked into your eyes. -“I'll continue living with you, did you already forgot about my promise? Alright, stop shaking and go prepared dinner, I’m hungry.” Slowly the fear started to vanish, feeling more annoyed with the way he was talking to you. Where that cute cat, that loved to cuddle with you, went? ---- Thank you for reading till the end! I was surprised that nobody wrote a story with Bakeneko Scaramouche, especially after Hoyo confirmed that Scara is cat boy lol I saw Scara Kitsune but never Bakeneko/Nekomata etc even if Bakeneko really suit him, so I thought I’ll try to write one! (If you didn’t know, cats become bakenekos from cat’s vengeance and hatred, whenever the cat feels hatred to human/s who treated it horribly/killed or want to avenge the family/person that cat lived with.)

[yanderepuck]

Kinktober Day 9

WELCOME BACK SLUTS. It's that time of the year you've been looking forward to. As always, Kinktober is hosted by your local Napoleon simp @xxsycamore

If you would like to read Kinktober 2021 and 2022 they are here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you thought about it

Day 9 Praise Kink | Degradation

"Ahh..you're doing so..so well."

You're laying on your back, your legs spread, with Isaac leaning over you. He's just fingering you right now, but it feels so good.

He's still a little anxious when it comes to sex, so you like to help ease him into it. Because of the noises that you make he sometimes thinks that he hurt you. He would ask so much that it got to the point where you had to tell him to stop asking and that you would let him know if he did.

With two fingers thrusting in and out of you, your moans get louder. He's gotten pretty good at fingering you; curling them to rub you in the right spot, wiggling them around, spreading them open to make you open up.

You reached down to grab his shaft, rubbing him at the same pace that he's fingering you.

He shutters slightly, the stimulation getting to him.

"No no. Don't stop," you moan. "You're doing such a good job."

That little bit of praise gives him a boost. You've noticed in day to day life giving him a little bit of praise gives him a confidence boost.

"I-Issac. I want you inside me," your fingers are barely touching his cock. You already know what he's going to reply back with. So before he opens his mouth to say exactly that you cut him off. "Your cock. I want your cock inside me."

He was a little hesitant and pulled his fingers out. "Are you sure..?"

You put a hand on his cheek to make sure he's looking at you. "Won't you be a good boy and show me how well you can fuck me."

His face gets red, but you can tell he wants to go along with it.

"I bet your cock feels real good."

You run your fingers gently up his shaft, just barely touching it. With that he shifts his body to get between you better. He aligns himself with you and slides himself in, both of you moaning when he does.

"Ahh... Isaac.."

His thrusts are sloppy and jerky at first, trying to get comfortable in the position, but after a few tries he glides right into you.

"Ohh...y-you're doing great."

He leans over you, holding one of your hands as he picks up the pace. He lets his own pleasure take over and doesn't worry too much about possibly hurting you.

The more you moan the better he gets, you don't need to use words to tell him he's doing a good job. You buck your hips and his moans copy yours.

He kisses you fairly roughly, like he's hungry for you.

"You feel s-soo good."

"You feel better."

You kiss him back just as roughly, both of your moans muffled. "Ungh....harder.."

You could tell he hesitates for a moment, but then he thrust into you harder. It was exactly what you wanted but he went harder than you thought he was going to and let out a yelp.

Before he could stop and ask if you were okay you spoke. "J-just like that! Don't stop!"

Isaac kept it up, but not for long. He released a stream of cum inside you and needed to stop to catch his breath.

You didn't even mind that you didn't finish yet. "That felt so good," you relaxed your body on the bed.

He pulled out of you and laid next to you. "It did?" He was nervous that he didn't satisfy you enough.

You kiss him and smile. "Yes. But now my turn," you sit on top of him, planning on riding him. "Now be a good boy and lay there for me."

[specialinterestshows]

Start to see more of jealous!Rhea in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic.

Warnings for this section: Cannabis (weed), jealousy/possessiveness, dirty talk

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 54 of ?): Mari (Wanna?)

“Here we are,” Marisol said, letting go of your hand to open the truck bed cover on a slightly beat-up blue car. You take a better look at the truck as she does, noticing a small set of rainbow beads strung up around the car’s rear view mirror and the paint job fading and peeling a bit on the hood.

“Pull up a seat,” the sound of her sweet, melodic voice made you look over. The tailgate had been opened and the cover rolled back to reveal the truck bed, floor draped in a blanket with several cushions of various colors, shapes, and sizes littered across it. Marisol was already sitting down and patting the large cushion next to her.

“You take smoke breaks like this?” you ask, lifting yourself onto the truck bed and sitting on the cushion.

“Life’s too short not to make everything as fun as possible,” Marisol replied, pulling an iridescent pipe and a classic zippo lighter out of her bag, “Sometimes I sit here and look at the stars while I decompress after a shift.”

“Marisol-“ you begin when you see her pull out a grinder to pack a bowl.

“Please, call me Mari,” she interrupts, winking - making you a bit flustered.

“Um, Mari, you don’t have to do that - I have a couple joints rolled already,” you say, pulling your own supplies out of your bag.

“Let’s make a salad, then,” Marisol says, packing the pipe halfway before handing it to you, “Just sprinkle some of your joint on top of that.”

You unroll the top of one of your joints and tap the side to shake out the bud as you ask, “So do you get a lot of jokes as a stoner who goes by “Mari?" Y’know, like-“

“Marijuana? All the time,” she chuckles, “I used to insist on going by Sol, but I’ve actually leaned into Mari more over the years. Nah, you go ahead and start us off, hermosa” - she shook her head when you offered her the packed bowl - “I can give you a light, though.”

After a nod, you lean in and watch Marisol light the bowl for you, noticing her watching you somewhat expectantly as you finish inhaling. Holding in the hit, you point to your mouth, eyebrows silently asking a question. She leaned forward without a word, carefully taking the pipe from you with one hand and cupping your face with the other as her soft lips touched yours.

Feeling your face grow warm at the gentle sensations, you exhale the smoke, feeling Marisol inhale at the same time. Even after she's taken in the smoke, Mari's hand remains at your cheek and she flicks her tongue just inside your mouth. Sparks fly and you find yourself kissing her, intoxicated by the scent of her perfume. The moan you release when she bites your lip makes you pull away a bit in embarrassment.

"Been a while, belleza?" Marisol giggles, pulling back enough to look at you with longing.

Before you could reply, the sound of your phone buzzing repeatedly cut through the air and you breathed a “sorry” before checking it to make sure your friends didn’t need your help. The text on your phone screen gave you a sudden rush of conflicting emotions: “Mami Calling”

“Sorry, I need to take this,” you said hurriedly, jumping down from the truck and walking out of earshot before answering the call.

“Hey, Rhe. Everything okay?”

“All good, beautiful,” Rhea said, using her sultry domme voice, “Heading back to the hotel for the night and wanted to know if my good girl wanted to do a video call with Mami.”

“My friends dragged me out to the club tonight,” you sighed.

“Meet anyone interesting?” Rhea teased, not seeming to think you might respond.

“I, um, did meet someone, actually…” you answered, heart pounding in your ears at the silence on the other line.

“…What do you mean?” the voice on the other end of the line was suddenly much more serious - not necessarily angry, but it made you anxious regardless.

“It was mostly just flirting,” you try not to trip over your words in a rush to explain, “And a bit of… kissing?”

The silence on the other line was excruciating as you held your breath, waiting for a response. Finally, Rhea asks, “Are you in love with her?”

“What? No, we just met!” you say immediately, "Are you... not okay with me seeing other people?"

"We're in an open relationship," she stated flatly, "You should do what makes you happy."

"I want you to be happy too," you tell her, "I love you, Rhe."

"I love you too," she says, and you're sure you hear a tinge of sadness in her voice, "I love you so much."

Before you can think of something comforting to say, Rhea changes her tone immediately - you can now hear a smirk in her voice as she continues, "I hope you know Mami is going to make you forget all about anyone you met while she was away, darling. Don't forget: you belong to me, baby."

Rhea hung up before you could reply and you pulled the phone away from your face to see a text in your friends' group chat asking where you are (and if you planned on stealing anyone else's crush). Sighing, you walk back to the truck to see Marisol lying down, looking at the stars. She props herself up on her elbows once you climb back onto the truck.

"Hey, sorry, I have to go," you apologize as you start gathering your things back into the bag you left there, "My friends are looking for me."

"At least let me give you my number," Mari insists, smiling when you pull out your phone to give her. Before you can hand it over, it buzzes, making you pull it back to look. Your face starts heating up rapidly when you see the photo Rhea just sent you of her bending over completely naked, grinning at the camera.

"Everything okay?" Marisol asks, looking confused.

"Yeah, here-" you start, but your phone buzzes again and this time it's Rhea biting her lip, tits fully on display. Flustered, you say, "You know what, how about I type my number into your phone instead."

[end part fifty-four of ?]

Part 55: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/732030186745380864/absolute-smokeshow-part-55-of-good-things

-

Tag List (thank you!)

@cherryberryshine , @littlemiss-fanficlover , @elisewithak , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Oh no I am an anxious wreck once again. What now?

Here are a few tipps and tricks that help me personally to deal with anxiety (plus some I know work for others). Please feel free to add your own coping mechanisms in the notes!!!! Even though I technically know means to calm myself down, I always forget everything when I'm in the thick of it, so while this is mainly a reminder for myself I hope this list can help at least one other person as well :)

First of all: emotions are hard, and they are overwhelming, and shaming yourself will not make it better. Chances are it will make everything worse, actually. So don't you dare feel bad for needing help even with the "easy" stuff, or for not being able to endure as much as your peers, or even for half-assing stuff sometimes. It's fine. Like, for real. I promise it's okay. You don't need to always be at your best. You don't even need to be at your best most of the time.

What helps me personally is imagining that these struggles are affecting another person close to me. If my best friend were to call me because she needs help answering an E-Mail, or even to cancel last minute because she feels too overwhelmed to leave her house right now, I would never make her feel like crap because of it or talk about her behind her back or anything else your brain may be trying to convince you of. I know that she is at least as good a person as me (probably better tbh), so if I wouldn't do any of that, she certainly would never. In fact, believing these thoughts is actually a disservice to her, who did nothing to deserve these mean remarks (quite the opposite actually). Basically, try to twist and out-logic your own brain into being less of a cunt to you. Try guilt-tripping yourself into being kinder. The bad emotions are there anyways, might as well use them to your advantage. I can speak from experience that being anxious is a bit less unbearable if you aren't being a self-obsessed asshole on top of everything else

JUST FUCKING DO IT

If the source of your anxiety isn't a particular task you have been procrastinating on, or is something you can't just do whenever (f. ex. a job interview that's two days away), feel free to skip this part ^^

If you are still here: I know it can feel like actual hell to just do the thing. If you immediately want to click away after seeing this title I don't blame you. I mean, I am currently writing a huge ass post about anxiety instead of answering the two (2) E-Mails literally making my hands tremble. But the truth is, doing the thing is actually never as bad as it seems. Here's some stuff that maybe can help:

-> Remember that it's never been the end of the world before, so surely it won't start being it now. If you've already been through a similar situation: remember that it isn't the first time you've felt this way; remember that doing the thing wasn't as bad as you'd feared and, most importantly; remember how you felt after doing it. If this is the first time you feel like that, I'm sorry. I promise you aren't stupid for "overreacting", and I promise it will feel at least a little bit better if you just get it over with. And when you've managed the first time, you can now use that as an example instead of taking some stranger on the internet on his word. Worst comes to worst, you can still anon hate me (jk please don't)

-> Rewarding yourself. Remember that putting yourself down tends to make things worse. Allow yourself to be proud for your achievements, yes even the small ones that most people barely even think about. Because sometimes shit is just hard, but you still did it, and that's fucking awesome !!! For me personally just the knowledge that my anxiety will lessen (and I will probably get some good sleep - emotions are so fucking exhausting) is enough most of the time, but you can also give yourself a little treat afterwards. You've earned it!

-> Hide it in between chill tasks. Like right now, I'm writing this instead of my fucking E-Mail. I am a bit calmer since this is distracting myself from the daunting task of typing a few words. So I am now going to open my mails on another tab, type this shit, and send it. And I know that when I did that I will feel better about myself. And even if I fuck up somehow (how you ask? i don't fucking know), I will immediately have this task to come back to so I don't have the chance to overthink it. I FUCKING DID IT I AM THE CHAMPION OF THE WORLD

-> If you have a bunch of stuff you swore yourself you would do (a bunch can also mean like 2 btw) starting can seem even more daunting (even if it is, as aforementioned, "only" two). So I am very happy to present written lists my absolute beloved. In my experience, stuff is a lot less overwhelming if it isn't only living inside your head. You get a feeling of accomplishment when you can cross something off your list. You don't have to keep panicking about forgetting something (since everything is already written down on your list.) You can even break down bigger tasks into smaller more manegeable ones (f. ex. instead of "clean your room" -> "1. do your bed; 2. fold your clothes; 3. etc etc".) It's great because even if you don't manage the entire big task you still feel less like a failure since you've got proof of all the small accomplishments you did manage. Plus it's easier to continue on another day since you know exactly what you have to do and have proof of everything you already managed as a motivator.

-> Accept help. Be on the phone with a friend while doing the thing (if possible, of course). Ask your friends to be your hypeman before and after doing the thing. Get reassurance from other people. Go to your friend's house to ask them to read your E-Mails, summarize them verbally, and then type an appropriate answer for you (can you already tell me and electronic mail aren't in the best of terms?) Making things harder on yourself on purpose isn't being strong it's being stupid

-> already mentioned it a bunch of times, I know, but the thing that really helps for me is comparing with past experiences. I know I will feel better after I do it because that's always what happens when my brain blows things out of proportion. I know I can do this because I did even scarier stuff and it went well. Or even: if I manage to do this seemingly super scary thing, I will be able to use it as a motivator for smaller stuff in the future. I mean, what even is a fucking E-Mail in comparison to going to a social event on your own ??! (seriously, do it. in my experience it's surprisingly easy to find friends if you look pathetic enough, plus a lot of things seem a bit less paralyzing in comparison)

-> I turn it into a competition, or a game. If I do the thing I win. If I don't do the thing the anxiety wins. And I refuse to let that happen because I'm competitive AND a sore loser <3 so I do the thing. and then I feel a bit better

JUST DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. THINKING IS THE ANTITHESIS OF DOING. (which you can also use to your advantage, à la better to think about that unhealthy coping mechanism and why you shouldn't do it than to stop thinking about it and actually doing it instead. But that isn't the point right now)

DISTRACTIONS

Sometimes there just isn't anything you can do. Sometimes all you can do is wait. Sometimes you don't even know why the fuck you're feeling like that. And that fucking sucks.

I know there are some people who need an absence of stimuli in order to calm down. (If that's you, please leave some of your own pointers in the notes! I don't really have any ideas for that one tbh)

For me, the opposite is the case. I can't count the times my mom has told me to "try meditating!" or "don't do more than one thing at the same time it'll only stress you out even more!", unaware that giving my thoughts free reign would make everything so much worse.

I need to overwhelm myself in order to be able to forget about my anxiety for a while. Sometimes doing a task I've been dreading is easier after distracting myself for a few hours (being anxious is very tiring so if you let it run its course in the back of your mind for a while you'll have less energy for it later ^^). Here's some stuff that could help (though it should be noted that a) not everything will work on everyone and b) sometimes it just doesn't work. even if it worked the last five times. Don't ask me why it is what it is):

-> Do something (really anything) while listening to a video essay/podcast/audiobook. That's my go-to classic. Feel your mind slipping away from whatever you're doing? Force yourself to really listen to what is being said. Sometimes it helps to mouth the words along to my audio of choice (while still doing your thing at the same time!!) Speed it up (I've usually got my stuff at 1.75x or 2x). Assume that pretty much everything listed below can be done while having this as a second layer of distraction

-> Learn something new. I was literally just teaching myself the tabs for Every Breath You Take by The Police and 26 by Paramore on the guitar before starting this. I tried learning finnish and irish for a while there (learning vocabulary, trying to translate sth, learning grammar, etc.). Sometimes it can take a bit of time to get into it, but once you're there it's easy to lose yourself in it (in my experience at least.) And you can always start another video essay in the background!

-> Baking. I usually do half or fourth the recipe to a.) waste less ingredients; b.) have less stuff to eat so you can go bake more stuff sooner; and c.) feel less bad if it doesn't turn out how you hoped. Plus you can also make yourself more likeable by giving some to your neighbours ;)

-> Comfort book/series/movie/etc. I'll be honest, this one almost never works for me, but I know that for some people it does so on the list it goes

-> Take a walk. Touch some grass. Go outside. Personally have very mixed feelings towards this one. Used to do it all the time during lockdown (walking nowhere for literal hours while listening to music), but when it doesn't help it makes things much much worse (in my experience) So maybe be a bit careful? If you want to get away from your thoughts this is...bad. But otherwise (like if you just have the feeling of anxiety without a specific reason) it's worth a try

-> Do maths. I'm serious. For a while there I couldn't sleep, so I'd go on the net, search for equasion exercises, and just go wild. Don't look at the answer: this isn't the point. It's something with a fixed procedure and no consequences if you mess up (you won't even know if you mess up). Maybe instead of equations you find long division more relaxing. Just try not to think of school, put the pressure away, and give it a go.

-> Go to your comfort place. This is also a bit of a tricky one. First of all, not everyone has one of those. Or maybe you can't really go there (like, I always calm down when I'm at the beach. I adore the ocean. But I don't have sea anywhere near me, so sucks to be me i guess). But if you do have a place near you it's worth a try. Sometimes after a particular stressful therapy session i just...go chill at the library for a while. It helps :)

-> Blorbo scrolling. I personally prefer looking at a bunch of art and comics (visual stuff) since i don't really have the concentration to read when I'm anxious, but see what works best for you <3

-> Menial tasks. I love them. Sorting stuff that actually doesn't really matter (like taking all your books from your shelves and trying a new way to organize them). The already mentioned maths exercises. Washing the dishes/putting them back in their place (you can combine that one with the baking hehe). Volunteering work can also be pretty helpful: they often need help with menial tasks plus you can feel good about yourself for helping. Recently started helping at my local animal shelter and it's actually pretty great !

-> Sports. I personally hate sports and always feel worse afterwards, but so many people talk about it that it must be of help to someone out there. What I used to do when I got suddenly overrun by emotions is taking my skipping rope and jumping as fast as I physically could til I felt a bit better (and sweaty ew)

-> Sometimes I like starting a small project; depending on the mood either with no pressure to finish (or intention to show anyone ever because eww), or posting it in hope for praise that'll make me feel a bit better about myself heh. Just something else I can focus on. (ex. g. I've got a meeting I'm nervous about tomorrow so I started writing this huge-ass post) Just remember: IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE GOOD!! JUST CREATE! I PROMISE BEING CREATIVE AND/OR DOING STUFF IS AWESOME!! (or if nothing else at least frustrating enough to overshadow the anxiety lol)

-> In the wise words of mother mother: Dance and cry, and cry and dance and cry. (And sing. And scream. Or get out that skipping rope. Just let it out my dude.)

-> Watch a show in a foreign language faster (like 2x speed) and with subtitles (less time to read, more required focus, less brain power to panic)

-> immersive reading (audio + text); especially effective if you do it in a language you are currently learning or one that is similar (but not the same!) to your native tongue (f. ex. portuguese and spanish)

-> Try sleeping. Doesn't always work, but at least it wastes time.

I THINK I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A PANIC/ANXIETY ATTACK

-> Strong sudden stimulant. Like smelling a very strong perfume or taking a freezing shower.

-> Just. Let it wash over you. It sucks, yes, but it'll be over. Try keeping calm. I know, easy to say when you yourself aren't currently going through it, but anxiety about a future attack will not, in fact, make things less worse. Once again, remembering past attacks can help as well? It didn't kill you then, it won't kill you now. (My therapist suggested using a mental image, like huge waves or something. I personally don't do that but maybe it'll help)

-> Cover your ears and listen to your heart. Key point: this is NOT aiming to drown out noise, but to ground yourself by listening to your own body (bloodstream and creaking bones etc) (ty anon <3)

-> I'm not sure whether this'll work with panic attacks as well (according to google one of the key differences is that these don't really have a trigger and just....happen) and it probably won't be viable in every situation. But just. Be enough of a spiteful little shit to turn your breakdown into a powermove. (The distressing emotions are there anyways might as well make use of them). You told your teacher you get extreme anxiety when you have to speak in public and they ignored you because the school system actually hates kids? Look them right in the eyes as you start hysterically sobbing so they feel really bad, maybe be extra subdued the next few lessons. As far as you know it'll get you a few pity points that'll make a difference in your overall grade! (Pretty sure I got a better grade in my arts finals than i deserved) Someone knowingly breaks a boundary you set because "oh you've been doing so well" and "it's an irrational fear so it isn't real anyways" or whatever they tell themselves to justify it? This is your chance to make them really see how what they did is wrong (and hopefully will make them think twice before pulling shit like that again). If you warned them, they are literally asking for it. And it'll seem that much more impressive when you are having a good day for once and manage to get through it without one (you've earned that extra credit). Maybe I'm just a bit of a vindictive person, but reframing the narrative like that in my head gives me some semblance of control, which makes it all a bit less scary.

IT DIDN'T FIT ANYWHERE ELSE BUT IS STILL IMPORTAT

This is mostly me reminding myself that it's fine tbh. Because it is.

-> Remember that you can just do shit. I don't know how else to say this, but sometimes my anxiety makes it feel like hiding away in my room is my only option. But that's not true! There is so much stuff you can do, I'm always in awe for a while when I get this through my thick skull once again. Like, you can just go to places. You can just write to your friends. You can just start a chat with that cool mutual you're too nervous to directly interact with. You can move. You can change jobs. You can redecorate your house. You can get into a random train and only get out at the last station, wherever that may be. YOU CAN JUST DO SHIT?!?!?! ISN'T THAT FUCKING AWESOME?!!!!!!!!

-> Extreme emotions can have unpleasant physical side effects. Sweating. Body odor. No appetite and/or extreme hunger cravings (sometimes at the same time??). Diarrhea. It sucks (especially when it continues on for multiple days and your oh so kind peers make sure to constantly remind you of those physical symptoms you are already overly aware of). But it's normal and it's fine. It doesn't make you gross, I promise.

-> THIS TOO SHALL PASS (that's it. Sometimes it's good to remind yourself. This too shall pass.)

-> Sometimes I just do small harmless shit to prove my anxious lizard brain wrong. Randomly say hi on that group chat you haven't entered for months. Create something you aren't really happy with and post it anyways, just cuz you can. Go do something on your own. The more you prove your fears wrong with little things like that, the easier it gets (especially if you have to do bigger scary stuff). Spite can be your best friend. (Plus easy way to gain more points in my mental competition hehehe)

-> Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you will fuck up. You will barely be able to say a word in the social event you forced yourself to go in order to meet cool people. You will be so obviously anxious at your friend's birthday that she will still remember that over a year later (despite your best efforts to hide it at the time). You will get an anxiety attack because of something you thought you had already gotten over months ago. And it sucks, but more importantly, it's fine. This too shall pass. This is another reason why the previous point is so important: it's harder to hold these incidents over your head if you have so many other experiences where you managed to prove yourself.

-> YOU get to decide when you want to try confronting a fear. Nobody else can do that for you, no matter how often they mention "exposure therapy" and shit (it's about the control once again. in my experience it's important for it to be your choice). Occasionally hiding away doesn't make you a failure. There are always more chances, it's never too late to start. Already mentioned it a bazillion times, but this shit is exhausting and you are well within your right to stay in your comfort zone and rest.

-> I don't know if it's just a me thing but self reminder to avoid lactose and gluten when overly anxious. (i never do but i am aware of it that should count for something)

-> gender-affirming stuff can help ^^

-> Not viable to everybody, but sometimes I just delete all social media from my phone. You can still go there through browser of course (that's where I'm actually currently writing this) but just not having the icon on the phone can already feel somewhat of a relief (social media in this case also including messaging apps like discord or WhatsApp or fucking electronic mail my beloathed). That's actually what I am planning to do immediately after posting this thing that came out a bit more personal and stream-of-conscousness than initially planned. You won't even be able to tell cuz I never tag my queues hehehe

-> mentally dunking my stupid anxious lizard brain into salt water rn. Fuck you. I'm posting this. I'm leaving my house tomorrow instead of calling in sick. I'm winning.

[parameddic]

here is the post that combines all my little drabbley/little bit-y things about the 17 year old TK let go of so it's all in one place if you would like to read the things all in one place. it's uh. 4000 6000 words, sorry about that

#controversial:#in the heat of the moment and without time to find any alternatives and rapidly cascading toward the edge and#with only milliseconds to spare and with so much apology and so much guilt. tk would let go

"How are you feeling?"

TK did not look up from his hands, sitting there at the table. He was oddly still, which was his least favourite way to be, no... bouncing leg, no rubbing at the palm of his hand with his opposite thumb, not even a racing mind, just. Still. He closed his eyes, pressed his teeth together in a curt swallow and working jaw, searched hard for an answer to this question. Cap wouldn't be asking if she didn't want an answer. His insides crawled around, twisting and guilty, and he did not quite answer her. He thought again about the kid, 17, brown eyes, wild curls, afraid.

The gasp as their hands had come apart and the kid went tumbling.

"TK." Captain Vega put her hand on his wrist, a physical point of contact. Nothing more, nothing less. TK did not want to look at her. She waited, until TK's eyes slid up in her direction, still unmoving, still silent. It did not look like she hated him. It did not look like she thought he was a disgrace to the profession, like she should have his badge, like he had done a terrible thing and made a selfish decision and ruined some mother's life because of what he did.

Captain Vega had kids of her own. Two little girls. Beautiful kids. What if it had been one of them? Would she have been looking at him the same way?

He breathed out, a horrible but controlled breath, and looked back down. Watery, anxious, like he was going to be sick: "I let him go, Cap." Did she not understand what had happened? Did she not know?

She said, "Good."

He had been braced for something completely different, shoulders hunched, walls waiting, and then it was just. Something else entirely. It was just something else entirely. He looked up again, surprised out of it, still guarded, his heart wobbling (god, what would his mum have thought, too? What would anyone who loved him think about what he had done?).

"TK, there was nothing you could have done."

"He slipped." He wasn't saying he'd shoved him. "But I could have - I could have caught him, Cap, if I'd just held on--"

"Then you would both have fallen, and you would both have died." Said plainly. Just like that, cut and dry, although with some immense amount of patience and love that he thought must only come from being a mum to someone 'cause he had never known anyone who had that in them, this incredible capacity for caring about people who just fucked up and fucked up badly. "TK, you did nothing today that I wouldn't have directly ordered you to do, if I'd had the opportunity."

She would have let him go, too, she was saying.

She would have made that same decision, she would have done it, and that - couldn't be right because he could not understand that concept, about his Captain, and he clarified again like she was not getting the severity of it, "I let him die, Cap." He'd -- "His face, when I let him go," that horrible flash of understanding, the terrible knowledge of what decision TK had just made. Brown eyes, wild curly hair, the gasp. The gasp.

"You did your job, TK."

"I didn't save him."

"You couldn't." Utmost belief. "There wasn't time, TK. The rope just wasn't strong enough and he slipped. You did everything you could to give him time until we could get there. And you had to let go." Everything had not been enough. "What happened to that boy wasn't your fault."

Wasn't his fault.

That was the sort of thing that happened sometimes. In the field. People died, it happened, it was outside of their control, it was a tragedy every time and they packed up and they kept going. She - Captain Vega - tried so hard to pull it into that category, into out of our hands, into something that did not sit open in him like a wound.

What would his mum have said?

Dad hadn't spoken to him once since it happened. Busy doing paperwork to clean up TK's mess.

He didn't want to be here. The 126, the people he loved who knew how he had screwed up (again), the people who were in a unique position to be able to judge what happened in an emergency, who thought they had wanted him, once. It was the only safe place for him to be right now. He still did not want to be here.

"I could have saved him, Cap." If he had just --

"No. You could have gotten yourself killed." Firm. "You couldn't have saved him."

Green eyes drew up again, to settle on Tommy Vega, how certain she was. How absolutely sure. She did not hate him. She did not think he had hurt this kid. She did not think he had done something terribly, horribly wrong.

His heart ached. He respected Tommy Vega's opinion much more than he respected his own, actually, especially in the field.

"Come and eat something, sweetheart," she said, with some promise in her voice (he was wanted; he would be welcome at the kitchen table; the 126 would not turn him out). She touched his arm, rubbing at it like she might rub life back into him, "You need something in you."

He didn't want to eat anything. It would taste like ash, and a dead 17-year-old. He swallowed, hard, and nodded just barely. OK, he'd come and eat something.

"You want me to text someone?" did he want her to text his dinner date, she meant. He didn't know. He didn't have any energy, none at all, not even the sliveriest sliver of energy, to think about having to make decisions about that sort of thing right now.

"Um," like he was only just rousing out of some sleep-like state, re-orienting to the world, just a little: "What did Marjan make?" What was the food he was coming to eat?

Cap was happy enough to be redirected. The team, all of them, all of the 126 (bar his Dad), were happy to see him, when he stepped into the firehouse's kitchen. Not hated at all.

Not even... not hated at all.

"IS THAT HIM?"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

TK came onto the scene late, which in retrospect was probably a good thing. The woman who had arrived at their hangar doors was short but angry (she slapped Tommy's hand away, "Get your hand out of my face," uninterested in being stayed), and when she rounded on him Tommy stepped immediately between them. Protective. Something rock solid dropped into his stomach. He reached, very absently, to hook his fingers over the railing that lined the staircase, suddenly regretting that he'd left the bunks in search of food. Maybe he should just have starved.

"Hey!" She was speaking to him directly, now.

"Sarah," Tommy tried. Sarah ignored her.

"You're it, right?" 'It'? TK was not currently playing tag. (The false confusion was protective, but oh, it felt fake. The guilt of trying to 'get out' of it somehow, even mentally, of trying to sidestep the question.)

"TK, go back to the-"

"TK!" Sarah latched on, it was TK, and she feinted left only to loop around Captain Vega's right side, not without some commotion from the others there (leaping to his defense), and the spirit with which the 126 scrambled to defend him only served to confirm it. TK knew who this woman was.

He descended several steps, 'cause hiding from this conversation was actually, tangibly, not something he physically had in him, much less when the conversation showed up on his doorstep.

"That's me. I'm TK." Yeah. Hi.

For a very sharp moment, one that felt very much like the slice of a dagger for everyone involved, Sarah horribly, deeply did not know what to say. This almost-30-year-old man who had let her some die, when his one job, his one job --

"Do you know his name?" Did TK know anything about him?

TK was properly descending the staircase, now. The third or fourth step up, almost within reach of her (his family was letting him have this; they, he and Sarah, both needed it). TK said, "Kyle."

It was not like he could do his homework on this kid and somehow make up for what had happened. It just wasn't, that now how TK was saying it, it did not matter he knew Kyle played for his school's basketball team, it did not matter he had heard him talk about the way he missed his Dad and thought, yeah, this was not some excuse he was offering. He just said it because yes, he knew who he was mourning. And he was mourning him, too.

"On the paperwork," Sarah said, deflating a little. On the paperwork, his name was Kyle. Her next breath was watery. "We called him Yusef."

It was not fair to her at all that this gave him some sensation of having a rug pulled out from under him. A drop. A fall. He landed on the bottom step, now only feet between them, with a jostling he had not intended, tripping on the name a little. He was wrong. He was wrong about a lot of things with this kid. What if he was wrong about--? (He cut the thought short, forceful and deliberate: what if did not make things better.)

"Yusef," he repeated.

This was his fault. This lady being here, eyes rimmed with red, the description of grief. Of angry. She watched him. Took a deep breath, a tight little sigh that edged on furious, but also on tears, and maybe frustration, and all TK could do was stand there and lick his lips and search for something he could say that would make it marginally less horrible that they knew each other at all. That they'd ever even met.

"Ma'am," Tommy said, not quite inserting herself into the space between them.

"'S'okay, Cap." It was OK. TK was quick to disagree. No, let her have this. This was just penance. It was something that came with having let go, and having let go on purpose. "It's, um. It's Sarah, right?"

She would deeply have preferred to have remained strangers. To have never had a reason to meet this man at all. Sarah nodded, fractionally, still undecided on what to do with all this feeling, what direction to let it flow in, what to feel it as. "You killed my son," she said. Plainly.

TK blinked just the once, to let the full weight of it land. He took a breath in, slow and controlled. He ignored the freight train of grief and self-blame and grappling with emotions and the edgy-crawling-clawing feeling of wanting to just not feel it anymore, a constant undercurrent but a lot louder today than it had been this time last week. TK opened his mouth. He came up short, again. Always just too short of good enough for this family.

Captain Vega intervened, again. "Our team," team, "did everything we could for your son, Sarah. I am sorry that you lost him. But TK is an experienced, and passionate--"

"You LET HIM GO!"

(How did she know that? That he was involved, sure - that he had tried to save him - but specifically that he'd let him go? It was not just TK who had this thought; his eyes flashed to his family, Judd and Marjan and Mateo all exchanging glances, checking they had not missed anything, what was--?)

Anyway: the momentary lapse in attention was long enough for Sarah to shoulder her way past Tommy. Anger, she had decided, with fists raised. This was anger, which shoved him back on the staircase (TK was glad to be holding the railing), as the team moved and Tommy was elbowed in the face trying to hold her back and Judd stood from where he had been keeping watch and Sarah continued, "You let him fall, my son--"

and TK thought only once, only passingly, that the whole rest of the 126 was downstairs, but he didn't know where his Dad was.

"Doesn't look like anything's broken."

The antiseptic stung, but it was meant to. TK and Tommy sat at the kitchen table, little first-aid kit out 'cause really they didn't need to ruin the perfect-stock count of the ambulance just for this. He wouldn't need stitches. Neither would Tommy, although now she had something of a black eye where she'd been elbowed in the face, trying to intervene. She kept her eyes on TK's damage, now, touching lightly at the grazes, feeling out for a spongey skull (classic sign of a break), particularly around the eye. Nothing.

No breaks to speak of, which really just meant he didn't even have something solid to point to to say, this is how I paid for it. Not even a manifestation he could feel, beyond a light stinging and the ache of bruising. It was stupid Cap had to look after him like this. Nancy sat across from them, watching, anxious to help but aware she would get in the way. TK's tiny little family unit. He wondered how he would feel if someone had let one of these guys fall to their death.

"Sorry, Cap." For being here, in this situation.

"You shouldn't be," she corrected him, leaning back to check her handiwork before she went looking for the medical tape, "you didn't invite her here. A parent grieving is a parent grieving. That was out of your control."

"It wasn't your fault, dude." Nancy had not yet had the opportunity to tell him this directly, to express it out loud when TK was not still reeling (reeling reeling reeling) from having made the decision, so she inserted it here. Whole-hearted. "Any of it. The rope breaking, the kid, the mum showing up here. It wasn't anybody's fault. It just sucks."

... Yeah. Well. The corner of TK's mouth pulled, more grimace than anything, to acknowledge the sentiment. "Thanks, Nance." Unconvinced, but she was not the first person to tell him that today, and not the first person whose opinion he deeply respected to tell him that, either. Tommy started taping up the gash on his eyebrow (not to mention the busted lip, the bruising to his shoulders where he'd fallen on a staircase, the definitely-sprained shoulder), and TK looked up briefly, to meet her eye, misreading she wanted his attention. She worked, intent.

It was not a private space, really. There were people standing around, mild activity in the direction of making food or being present. Judd was standing, arms crossed, like he might fight anyone who came in and threatened to cause problems. Paul was stress-cooking, around Owen, who - weirdly quiet - had been fiddling with the espresso machine more or less since they'd gotten back from the call. Marjan sat at the other end of the table, feet up on the chair across from her, scrolling through her phone with eyebrows drawn, caught up in something. There were people here, a room full of people TK loved and cared about, who loved and cared about him.

"How do you think she knew?" Mateo asked the quiet room. Something twisted in TK's stomach but he did look around, first to Mateo and then to the rest of the room. Not a single one of these guys would have spoken to the kid's mother about what exactly went down. None of them would have said a word to anyone about it. They had all seen. They all knew. (They all knew, he thought so easily, casually, and the thought was something he held onto with both hands, grabbed onto because it was the first time he had thought about it in any framing that did not make it his fault.)

"Um," Marjan ventured, still on her phone. They all turned. "I might. Have an answer." The tone of her voice said, I really wish I didn't. When she did not provide further information:

"Well, what's the answer?" Dad asked, drawn from his machine and from his weird ultra-quiet.

Marjan didn't seem to want to answer. She hesitated, with a glance to TK that meant he steeled himself a little for whatever this was going to be, whatever next, whatever now, and she said, "You know his friends who were up there?"

The ones who had not come close, but who had been there, who had been the three of four who survived, the people they'd managed to get to safety. Yes. TK knew them. "Yeah?" it felt brave to even confirm he knew what she was talking about.

... Marjan was sorry to tell him (so much apology in her voice), "I think they filmed it." She turned her phone around, to show them her screen, the video clip she had been watching. "And uploaded it. It's viral on TikTok right now."

He, um.

His mouth was dry. The footage played, and the rope snapped, and Marjan turned the volume all the way down so there was no way to hear the yelling or the alarm or the desperate gasp and the, Wait-! as he released Yusef's hand. The video cut short just after Yusef was lost over the edge, TK scrambling after him, but still having let go. This little 12-second clip of a terrible moment of many people's lives.

"We saved their lives!" Mateo protested -

"And not their friend's," Marj clicked the screen off, and turned the phone away again. "I guess they don't see it that way."

"Well, they should," Paul disagreed. "They're the ones who went up there in the first place, we --"

"It's not their fault they're teenage kids," TK disagreed, shell-shocked and once again unmoored, not that he had felt particularly moored at any point, "It should be safe to - explore, and..."

"There is no excuse for uploading anything that happened today to social media." Tommy did not care about 'fault'. There was no excuse.

"How many people have seen it?" TK asked, suddenly, like this was some vital question and like the answer was not going to hurt him to hear. He knew what 'viral' meant.

"A hundred and sixty thousand. So far." It hadn't been even a day.

What was that gonna do? What would that do to the 126's reputation, in Austin, but also the fire department more generally, was he going to lose his job? Was he going to be able to do it, would people trust him? Would his team? If they had the chance to watch it again, to look closer, better detail, would they change their minds somehow, would it be -- would they still want him?

Could they get the footage taken down? Nancy was asking, which was a good question to ask, but Marjan was answering in a negative-ish sort of tone and TK was not actually listening to any of this at all he was reeling, mouth still that horrible dry, and he said, "They sent it to his mum." The alternative was she found it on her own. They had to have sent it to her, direct.

"Well," Owen said, delicately, as he removed the coffee grounds from the machine (the room, collectively, turned in his direction, now). He lifted his hands in a sort of shrugging motion, "you let him die. She does have a right to know."

That's what he thought? That was why he had been quiet this whole time. That was why he had been silent, it was because he thought TK had done something wrong. He wished it would stop feeling like he'd made some terrible mistake. He wished he could go just five minutes, just five minutes, without it stabbing at him like this, so hard it took his breath away. He inhaled, half a nod - just the up motion (surprise), not the down - and swallowed hard. How was he going to... how...

"Captain Strand," Tommy said, firmly, "if you have an issue with my employee --"

"My son, you mean."

"My paramedic." Curt correction.

"I don't have any issues with your paramedic. I just think it's hard to believe someone who signed up to rescue people--"

"Dad." No, OK, he felt bad enough already, this was somewhere where TK could draw a line and he drew it. Maybe yeah it was his fault, maybe yeah this was gonna cost him his career, and he was a terrible person, and he deserved to be miserable for the rest of his life or whatever, but this was a step too far.

"TK," like he was being unreasonable, "I'm not trying to bully you. I just don't understand. You had a kid in your hand, an actual child," seventeen years old, "and you let him go?"

"Cap," Marjan said at the same time Mateo voiced, "That's not cool, Cap," and Judd uncrossed his arms to lean both hands against the counter behind him, "Come on, Cap, you know that ain't what happened."

"Really?" he pressed, gesturing vaguely at Marjan's phone, "'Cause if I watch that video, and I don't have the context--" (Nancy reached across, now, to put her hand on TK's forearm, quiet support).

"But you have the context!"

"I have what I saw from the ground. And that's another five, six feet where TK coulda done something and he didn't even try."

Five or six feet.

He, um. No, he really did just. He wasn't going to stick around for this, to be bullied, sometimes his Dad just - sometimes he - TK loved him but sometimes... no, he stood up, "I gotta go."

"TK." Owen wasn't intending to bully him, said the tone of voice, still. Be reasonable.

"You're right, Dad, I - I shoulda done more." Sure. It sounded right. He needed to go, he could not stay here, he needed to go. Cap had finished patching him up, mostly, anyway. He could do the rest. (Tommy and Nancy watched him stand, but neither one of them stopped him, mouths open but not quite landing on the words) --

"TK," Owen tried again.

"You want me to come?" Nancy offered, standing -

"No." No, he didn't. "No, look after Cap, she's - I'm sorry I got you elbowed, Cap."

"You didn't." She dismissed it out of hand. "Sweetheart--"

Something in his chest ached painfully, at the word. Several leaps too far into something that he wasn't, that he didn't have, a relationship that had vanished from the world over a year ago now (over a year! Over a year!), he missed his mum. God, he missed his mum. The grief slammed into him harder than watching a child die slammed him, and he wondered if he was a psychopath or if he was broken, somehow, like he just swallowed everything good that ever came near him and never gave any of it back.

He couldn't be here. He could not be here, in this room, with these people, like this.

"Tyler!" Owen called.

He had to get out. He had to get out. Something was gonna burst out of his chest. He was gonna climb out of his skin. He was gonna -

TK left. He did not look back.

(and then a little bonus link: TK's gonna get pulled from field duty while the fire dept does an entire "investigation" based on public demand) (this will not stop him from doing what he needs to do when needed and saving his dad's life in the process, it will all blow over fine before the end of the episode) (pretend this is an episode. that's the thought)

First shift back.

Look, it wasn't the sort of thing TK really could just 'shake off', but as bummed as he was he just... wanted to get back out there. He was good at his job, and it was not gonna get better or change or have a different outcome if he was bummed enough about it, and he... you know, Cap was right. He could have died. He could not have saved that kid. That was what he was repeating to himself on the regular, and the longer he went repeating it the more it sounded sort of true, and it wasn't like he had come up with a solution that could have somehow changed something in the three days it had been since it happened. He had had seconds.

He'd done nothing that Tommy Vega would not have directly ordered him to do, herself, if she had had the opportunity. He wondered if she would have carried it differently, being the one to have made the decision. If she had had the opportunity. He was glad she hadn't. This wasn't the sort of thing he would want anyone walking around with, and definitely not Cap. She didn't deserve that.

The 126's firehouse was just winding up for the day when he got in, uniform fresh and crisp, hair combed. Well slept. He'd worked out this morning, got a smoothie, made shakshuka (he missed his mum), and he wasn't even shaky. This was a new day. He could tackle a new day, he lived through new days all the time. The vibe of the place felt a little wonky, but that sorta happened after a call like that one, and it would settle soon enough.

"Hey, TK," Paul said conspicuously loudly, upon seeing him (mid-wiping down the engine), and TK slowed a little to... uh, assess what that tone of voice was.

"... Hi, Paul?"

"TK," Nancy popped her head around the corner and then stepped full into view, "Hey, how are you feeling?"

TK lifted a hand, waist-height, 'cause, um. "OK, you guys are being super weird."

"Weird?" Paul.

"I - what do you...?" Nancy was shaking her head, nooooo not weird at all, trying to shrug nonchalantly except she elbowed Paul accidentally with the movement, and Paul did not even flinch, just nodded along calmly like he had not just been jostled. Super weird.

"Oh. Hey, TK."

This was a voice TK could not place the moment he heard it, to such an extent he had to step around Nancy and Paul (makeshift wall) to see who was speaking: "Oh, Pearce."

Pearce was, uh, in uniform. Like, for an Austin firehouse. Maybe he had been hired by someone after the private thing fell through (after it blew up), maybe... "Hi. What are you, um." What was a nice way to ask this question, why are you in my firehouse wearing a uniform. His (TK's) eyes travelled down to the number on the sleeve: 126.

Tommy's door swung open, upstairs. TK knew the sounds of this place without having to look. He knew what Cap's door sounded like, he knew his dad's gait down the stairs, he knew how to tell who was cooking by the smell and sounds coming out of the kitchen, alone. This was his home. The number, 126, on Pearce's sleeve seemed so...

Pearce could see where he was looking, and maybe see the absolute-sinking-of-TK's-heart, 'cause the next thing Pearce said was, "It's only temporary, it's - I mean, you know I don't fit, you couldn't pay me to stay here," (you couldn't pay TK to stay away), "but I. I saw what happened, on the news."

"Pearce reached out," Tommy was on her way down the stairs now, drawn by TK's arrival (maybe? What was going on?), "It was very kind of him."

"I wanted to know if I could help," Pearce agreed. TK swallowed, a little emptily. Um. Was he - was he being fired? Or replaced?

"C-" no, "Cap, you said--"

"Nobody's blaming you, TK." That's not what it felt like.

"I saw what happened," Pearce repeated like this was grounds to have an opinion on (everyone seemed to think it was grounds to have an opinion on), "for what it's worth, TK, it really... it wasn't your fault. I mean, in your position, I would've definitely, definitely done the same thing."

Yeah, no kidding. That was way more biting than TK wanted to be but the way this vote of support settled in his chest, sticky and hot, was not helpful. Woo, TK's practice aligned with this guy's. "Thanks, Pearce." That was the polite thing to say. He wondered where his dad was in all this. He wondered why he had not been told he would have a babysitter earlier.

OK, um.

OK, this was manageable. "So, um. I'm being replaced?"

"By Pearce?" Nancy said too quickly, with too much incredulity in her voice (sure they had invited him here but replacing TK with Pearce?!), and it was not very nice and Pearce shifted uncomfortably and TK felt some pang of sympathy for him.

"Ahh," Tommy intervened, "No, TK. No. You're not being replaced." A measured breath (TK braced himself, because whatever Tommy had to measure her breathing for was gonna hit him like a freight train), "But you are being suspended."

"Suspended?" No way. No, he had misheard her, he - "Cap, you just said--" nobody was blaming him, just said it wasn't his fault, just said that he had made the right call and if she was backpedaling on that then, what, was she trying to spare his feelings up until now, did she think he really had done the wrong thing, did she --

"It wasn't," a little louder than him, voice calm and even, "My. Decision, TK."

A breath in, shaking his head a little, who else could have decided that? Who else could have made the call he needed to be suspended? He believed her, he just breathed out this huff of air, searching, "Well - if -- i-if..." who? "Was it Dad?" Tommy wouldn't have taken orders from Dad, that was ridiculous? TK threw a look to Nancy, who was watching this exchange with wide eyes, worried eyebrows, who did not do anything to intervene. This was over her head. This was not her decision, either, it wasn't that Nance felt unsafe working with TK, so who--?

"The Deputy Fire Chief called me this morning, TK. A couple of hours before you arrived. We were scrambling to get someone to cover the shift, I thought I would speak to you, in person, when you arrived."

So she'd known. For two whole hours these guys had let him go about his day thinking that he wasn't suspended by the deputy-fire-chief-him-fucking-self, and they -- what? Did they think so little of him that they thought he couldn't handle it?

Did they worry he was going to blow up?

Was he going to?

"That's bullshit. Cap, he - how can he decide it was my fault, he wasn't even fucking there!"

"I know." He hated the way her voice was limiting, was de-escalation in practice, "I know, TK, I know. It wasn't just Billy, TK. The entire board reviewed it, they have the footage, it's a high public-interest case."

His boss's boss's boss's boss had looked at a terrible day and decided he wasn't worth employing. Wow, he - that--

"We all told them they were wrong, dude," Nancy volunteered, with some immense amount of guilt she was carrying that TK was soon to figure out, "even your Dad. They asked for statements, every single one of us said it couldn't be changed."

What? (TK was aware, vaguely, of the loose gathering of his family here. All of a sudden he did not feel supported, he felt surrounded.)

"It's just a temporary suspension," Tommy reminded him. "It's out of an abundance of caution, mostly to placate the public. They want another week to investigate, and then --"

"You knew," TK said.

Silence, at that. They were all fucking silent at that.

"You - the--" vague gesturing in Nancy's direction, "the board asked for statements and nobody told me? You all just wrote them and you sent them and nobody told me?" Not a single one of them?

His entire family and nobody thought to tell him the one thing that was absolutely vital to keeping him alive and safe and sober and loved was in the process of slipping out of his grip because of some idiot teenagers and a TikTok video and cis white straight men in their 40s and 50s who had opinions about what happened on the ground?

Nobody would meet his eye. Not one of them. Paul's arms were crossed, Marjan was quiet, Mateo was a step behind Nancy, and Nancy -- she did meet his eyes. She was horrified at herself. Or maybe at him. No words. Wow. Woooooow.

"I got the call the day of the accident," Tommy told him, voice still that annoying measured thing, "Billy was just telling me they had the footage, and they were examining it. I didn't think anything would come of it. None of us did. They asked for everybody's statements from the incident report, we didn't write anything new."

TK turned back to his Captain. This was suffocating. He was going to - he didn't - "You knew for three days this might happen."

She took another breath, and some part of TK's heart squeezed, hard, sudden anger. "I'm sorry, TK," she said. Fuck that. "I really didn't think it was gonna result in anything, it's clear as day you didn't--"

"Oh, my God." TK stepped back. He couldn't listen to this. OK, it was his fault. OK, he was a terrible person, sure, he oculd be that, fine, like, that was probably the only option left if he couldn't be a paramedic, that was kind of --

"It's just good PR," Pearce offered, awkwardly, with a shrug, "They're in hot water, I mean. I don't think they actually think it's your fault, but the public pressure--"

"I didn't kill this kid!" If he had been paying attention (and he was a little) he might have felt some triumph at the knowledge of it, the truth that he said it with, he did not kill that kid. "I was there when it happened, but the rope broke, Cap." It had been geared up correctly, ropework all above board, the rope was not aging or fraying or showing any signs of wear at the time, it was a freak accident. "I need this job."

"You haven't lost it," she repeated this, "and as long as I am Captain of this team, you won't. It's a suspension. They need more time to look at what happened, I give it a week."

"A week?" Holy -- "Cap, it's been three days, I'm going insane."

"I know." She knew. TK waited for more, for some 'exception' for some 'but I can--' instead of this, of being turned away from his own family in his own home, but she only repeated, "I know."

And that was it. That was, um. That was all. 126 chose Pearce over TK Strand. TK looked around, again. Please, anyone. Please.

"It sucks, dude," Nancy told him.

He couldn't believe this. He couldn't. This was -- and Pearce? No offense, he genuinely did not mean any offense, but Pearce, they chose him, he was a skilled paramedic and TK respected him professionally but they chose--?

His family moved in. Various steps closer, different people saying his name, pleading for his forgiveness, and he thought for a moment, none of these guys have any idea. None of these guys know anything about him, he was just. He was just some guy they could fill in whenever they wanted to fill in, he just --

"Right," he said, screw this, no, these - none of them were -- "well, you know, you can save the board the trouble of making a decision."

"What?" Nancy caught on first, stepped forward first, vital and sharp and no-don't-you're-not-going-to, "TK--"

"I quit."

"TK," Tommy said.

"You'll have my resignation letter by the end of the day. Sorry for the short notice, Cap, but it looks like you already found someone to fill in."

"TK--"

"I'll seeya later." He probably really would have to. He was stepping backwards, towards the doors, ready to escape. Get out. Stop suffocating. Get out. "I'll swing by sometime to pick up my things."

"Man, you don't--" Mateo tried.

TK was already gone.

(TK being bummed, in the in-between, and pouty, and probably talking to a lot of his friends, including different parts of the 126. Filler, filler.)

Maybe he, um. Maybe should… TK lingered on the edge of the 126’s garage, framed by the open door, fingers of one hand curled loosely around the 'frame’ just behind him 'cause he’d quit, and that was on him, and now he needed to....

“TK,” Captain Vega said (happy to see him, and his heart leapt somewhat in his chest, awkward and difficult to get a handle on), “Hi, sweetheart. Come in.”

Come in? Just like that? Did she need him to… sign some paperwork? 'Cause he’d said the words and he’d not meant them at all and he hated them the second they’d come out of his mouth (I quit) and – Captain Vega collected a clipboard and turned it around, facing TK. “I spoke with Billy,” she said, “We can’t put you back in the field, but you’re not suspended anymore. It’s boring work,” she did not envy him it (lifted the clipboard just a little, when TK reached for it, whatever he was thinking he should lower his expectations), “but it will keep you home.”

Home.

… He took the clipboard, feeling very wanted in a way that made him, also, feel kind of small.

“Cap,” he said.

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault, TK. They know it, they’re just being precious about it. You will have a job here as long as I am Captain of this team.”

As long as she was captain, and as long as he turned up. And he’d turned up. So here was the next type of work she had to give him.

“Understand?” she checked. Like he had not gone and tried to blow anything up at all, like he was just back again after cooling off, like he was loved and wanted and this was home.

“Hey, TK,” Nancy said on her way past, just like normal, just like always. “Paul’s putting pineapple on pizzas again.” Didn’t even stop, just kept going, leaving TK with this knowledge because TK liked pineapple on pizza a lot, and the fact it was on Paul’s pizza meant there were definitely some leftovers somewhere he could grab. She did not seem surprised to see him. Nobody complained he was wearing his uniform, still.

He belonged in it.

“TK?”

His eyes came back. He swallowed, unsure how to express the overwhelming… the sudden…. a nod: “You got it, Cap.”

“Good.” Good. “Now give that back, it’s actually my shopping list. But we do have paperwork for you. And a lot of standards-reviews for the station. When’s the last time you replaced the lights in the rig?”

Back into it, within minutes of arriving. Home, all the while. Captain Vega stepped away, headed into her office, and TK followed, grateful and soft and glad she was his captain. Home, all the while.

[creatorofuniverses]

Day 17 – Size Swap

Today's prompt is size swap! For this I decided to go with a size-swap AU for In Deep Waters (regular story here), because it's a thought I've had for a while now and this is as good an excuse as any to write some of it. Enjoy!

____________________

My name is Jeremy Waters, and I have never left New Mexico.

I say this just to point out how mundane my life should be. I don’t take risks, I don’t put myself in dangerous situations. I’m not the kind of person who would, say, go hiking through the Alaskan wilderness. The most excitement I normally get is going out to happy hour with some friends.

I’m fine with that. Really. I don’t need or want much more excitement- I get anxious when there’s more traffic than usual. Boring suits me just fine. Hence why I live in the same town I grew up in, less than an hour from my aunt and uncle, in an apartment owned by a friend of a friend. The college I recently graduated from is a few blocks away, and my upcoming job as a court stenographer only necessitates a fifteen-minute drive.

My life, by all rights, should be entirely normal. Yet, recently it’s been nothing but strange.

Strange, and dangerous. 

It started with a walk in the park.

Well, not really, I’m sure it started in some other strange place with a much more unusual set of circumstances, but for me it started then and there. The park was a familiar one to me, being on the walk from my current apartment to the college I’d just graduated from a few weeks ago. Now, in the decent chunk of summer I had between graduation and the start of my new job, I often wound up at the park just to relax. It had a few trees for shade, as well as a retention pond, where ducks liked to hang out. Sometimes I would come and feed them lettuce, just for something to do.

I actually had brought lettuce that day – there was some in my backpack, flat and nearly-empty given that I had no plans for the day and no classes to go to anymore – but there were no ducks in the pond. Looking back, I think that’s why I wandered over rather than staying in the shade of the trees. It was kind of strange to not see even one bird there. The day was hot and dry enough that they would surely seek out the water.

I stepped off of the paved sandstone path and into the scraggly grass, which was doing its best to be green but had only reached a sort of parched greenish yellow. They didn’t waste much water on a sprinkler system for a park that was mostly rocks and benches. The grass got a little greener near the edge of the retention pond, and I stopped there, looking out at the relatively small body of water.

The surface was still. There wasn’t much wind that day, and no birds, so that didn’t strike me as odd at the time. What did seem odd was the amount of wood floating on top of the water, like some rotted old tree branch had crumbled into the pond. Only, there weren’t any trees close enough to do that, and all the trees in the park seemed perfectly healthy. Weird.

I crouched down near the edge of the water, watching the pieces bob slowly. One of the larger bits of wood, a few feet away, seemed to have something on it. I squinted for a few moments before realizing that it was a… doll? Must be. It was only about four inches long, though it was curled up with its eyes closed, as if it were sleeping. It was probably made to look that way. It was all wet, from its short black hair to its little boots, and I looked around with a furrowed brow, wondering if some kid had lost it here or if it had somehow been washed into the pond with the rest of the debris. There had been a bad storm the night before, though I hadn’t heard about anything drastic happening.

Maybe there was a parks and rec lost-and-found I could turn it in to or something. I leaned forward and reached for it, my arm outstretched and my fingers barely brushing against it before I managed to snag the edge of the wood and drag the whole thing closer.

Then it opened its eyes.

I yelped, caught by surprise with my own eyes wide, and then the little not-a-doll shrieked in return. It scrambled to its hands and knees – dexterously, way too naturally, oh my god it must actually be alive – and skittered away.

And fell right off the edge of the wood and into the pond with a quiet plop!

“Oh shit,” I breathed, at a loss for anything else to say for a long moment. Too long, my brain clamored at me, what if it couldn’t swim? I pushed past the impossibility of it all, which was conspiring with my anxiety to grab my full attention, and after only a moment of twitchy hesitation I plunged my hand into the water after the little thing.

I waved my hand around in the water blindly for a moment before feeling some movement, and I managed to cup my hand around something small and flailing and pull it up out of the water. I had barely managed this, my hand and wrist dripping water and my fingers loosely holding onto the little whatever-it-was, when a tentacle – yes, you read that right – shot up out of the water after me and wrapped itself around my wrist.

I shrieked. It was an embarrassing shriek, far from manly, but in my defense I was thoroughly freaked out by this point. I waved my arm madly, trying to dislodge the slimy, completely unwanted grip of the tentacle even as I tried to backpedal further from the edge of the water. It clung to me, slick, sucker-covered muscle squeezing my wrist with shockingly strong tension, until I’d pulled enough that a good length of the tentacle was stretched out of the water. I caught a glimpse of something, a shadowy suggestion of some larger body coming towards the surface, before it finally let me go. The tentacle whipped back into the water, which rippled with the motion before falling still again, as if nothing had ever happened.

 Rubbing my wrist with my other hand, I scrambled to my feet and made it all the way back to the benches before I remembered why I’d been reaching into the water in the first place. Peeling open my fingers, which had clenched up in a loose sort of cage around the little doll-thing, I looked down and tried to assess what the fuck was even going on. My heavy breathing and pounding heart settled a bit as the confusion of this new mystery overwhelmed my previous panic.

Whatever it was, it was definitely alive. It pushed against my fingers with weak little hands and feet, struggling to sit up in my palm. Upon closer look, it seemed to be dressed in teeny furs, which were drenched after being submerged in the pond. It had short black hair, dripping with the tiniest droplets of water I’d ever seen, and its features looked vaguely indigenous. When it finally managed to sit up, it looked up at me – with a little face so round and babyish that it must be young, whatever it was – and babbled out something miserably. “Na’awa eren al? Eren al an ch’itok?” I didn’t recognize the language at all, much less the strange clicking sound the little thing added right in the middle, and my confusion must have shown because that tiny expression only got increasingly distressed. The little thing sniffled, face contorting into pure childlike dismay, before it burst into tears. “Il ta-impi ilo nani!” it wailed, before curling up even smaller and sobbing as noisily as something that small could.

When I say I was both heart-stricken and shocked, both are an understatement. No matter how impossible the situation, the fact remained that for all intents and purposes I had a four-inch-tall child crying in my hand, and there was nobody and nothing around to help or explain. A quick glance showed that no other regular people were around, and there weren’t even any other impossible, tiny people floating on the pieces of wood that remained in the pond. This was up to me, and I had absolutely no idea what to do.

So I did what I do whenever any situation gets strange and unpredictable- I went home.

I tucked the sobbing little kid close to me, hoped like hell nobody would notice, and walked on home at the fastest casual power-walk I could manage. It probably didn’t look casual at all, but thankfully nobody looked at me twice (even if they did look at me once, something my social anxiety couldn’t help but clock, and the fear of being asked what I was doing chased me all the home).

My brain raced even faster than my feet along the way. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Tiny people weren’t supposed to exist, and the retention pond in a city park sure as hell wasn’t supposed to have anything in it with tentacles like that. The storm last night couldn’t explain that. I’d heard stories about creatures in the ocean getting picked up and put somewhere else during hurricanes, but the storm had hardly been a hurricane, and besides, this was New Mexico. We were way too far from the ocean for that to be a thing. Had an octopus escaped from the local aquarium? Did we even have an aquarium in town? I was positive we didn’t, actually.

I arrived home with a lot of questions and a total of zero answers. Still, shutting and locking the door behind me was a huge relief. I might still have a reality-breaking little kid in my hand, but at least no zoo-escapees were about to lunge out at me here. We were safe.

Looking down, I carefully pulled my hand away, peeking in at the tiny anomaly. The miniature child looked back up at me with obvious fear and hesitation; they’d stopped crying, but their expression still held all too much misery, their dark little eyes watery and their cheeks flushed with emotion. Poor thing. I hadn’t exactly made the best impression.

“It’s okay,” I told them softly. They startled at my voice, flinching back against my fingers, but still stared up at me. Maybe they were trying to understand; I had no doubt that they understood my language about as well as I understood theirs, but I was hoping my tone might come across all the same. “I’m not going to hurt you.” They kept staring for a moment before sniffling and rubbing their eyes with the back of one teeny hand.

They were still soggy – holding them so close had made a little wet spot on my t-shirt – so I figured the first order of business was to get them dried off. I hurried to the bathroom and rummaged around in the linen closet for a washcloth (a whole towel would obviously have been overkill). Setting them down carefully on the bathroom counter, I watched them get to their feet before hesitantly offering the washcloth. “Do you… want to get dry?” I asked, hoping at least the question would come across. It suddenly felt awkward. This was a kid, impossibly teeny or not, and they weren’t my kid. I was hoping they were old enough to be able to do stuff for themself, like drying off, because I suddenly very much didn’t want to come across as some weird stranger trying to do that for them.

To my extreme relief, they looked at me quizzically but reached out for the washcloth with two teeny little hands. I let them take it, though the moment I let go their arms fell down with the weight of it, and they had to work hard to wrangle it enough to wipe their little face with. They were just so small. How was this even possible?

I ruminated on that as I took a seat on the edge of the nearby bathtub, putting me a little closer to their level but far enough away that I didn’t feel like I was hovering weirdly. The tiny kiddo barely seemed to notice anyways. They gave me a few little glances – more curious than scared, though that might have just been me projecting my own hopes there, as the miniature expressions were hard to see to begin with – and started toweling off their hair.

They then plunked themselves down to a seat, with a motion that only enforced my idea that they were just a kid, and pulled off their little boots. They emptied the water (barely a droplet) out of one with a small “egch!” of disgust and I couldn’t help but smile at the tiny theatrics. Once their boots and socks had been peeled off – revealing the tiniest little toes I’ve ever seen – they set them next to each other with fastidious perfectionism. They then patted down their hair, attempting to get it into order, before unfastening their leathered fur jacket with little toggles that were almost too teeny for me to see. They had on a little fabric shirt on underneath, a deep red in color, that they then dabbed at with the edge of the washcloth. They’d been soaked through, poor thing, but at least they seemed content to get dry now. Children were pretty resilient about that sort of thing; my entire day would have been ruined for sure. The jury was still out on whether my day had already been ruined by a sudden octopus attack.

The careful way in which the tiny kiddo arranged their jacket to dry and the little ways that they kept taming their drying hair made me guess that this was a little girl rather than a little boy. I leaned forward a bit, trying to see if the features of their face matched this assumption, and they turned toward me with wide, dark eyes and a look of surprise on their tiny face. It was hard to tell with kids, but I was pretty sure I was right. I could at least go on that assumption until we figured out enough communication for them – her – to tell me otherwise.

Once she seemed to have dried herself off as much as she wanted to, I reached over to grab the washcloth. The tiny girl flinched, looking alarmed, and I suddenly realized that she probably thought I was going to grab her up again. Whoops. “It’s okay,” I assured her, making my voice as gentle as I could. I tried to move more slowly, curving my hand around her to pick up the washcloth. “All done?” I asked, gesturing with the cloth as much as I dared.

She tilted her head a little, looking between me and the washcloth with utmost concentration, before nodding. “Tyo,” she announced. I took that as a yes. I pulled away the washcloth slowly, giving her time to protest, but she didn’t.

Well, that was our very first tally mark under “successful communication”. Here’s to hoping we could keep that up.

I stood, eliciting a wide-eyed stare from the teeny girl on my counter, and hung the washcloth on the shower curtain rod to dry. A strange smell wafted towards me from it, and I sniffed the washcloth a bit to double-check. It smelled like… salt. Like seawater. Brow furrowed, I lifted up my own shirt, smelling the damp spot that had been formed when I carried the drenched little girl home from the park. Saltwater again.

That made no sense at all. It was a retention pond in the middle of a landlocked state, it shouldn’t have any salt in it, much less smell like the ocean. I stared down at the little girl on the counter, and she looked up at me, tiny and impossible and unable to give me any answers even if she knew them.

Just what on earth was going on?