#i once again dont recall where any of these came from

[ao3screenshotss]

[random-posts680]

•I knew you’d be back•part 2

Part one here: https://www.tumblr.com/random-posts680/748793779031605248/dont-come-looking-for-me-part-1

A/N: guys holy moly I’m so sorry it took me an eternity to finish this but I hope you like it!

Warnings: maybe spelling errors, killing, death, royal family after reader, Feyd, blood, arena fights

Your hair was sprawled out as you laid on your back, it casted over the sheets of Feyds bed. Your arms were comfortably crossed over your ribs. And Your feet dangled off the edge.

Feyd mostly matched your position as he laid next to you. His arm closest to you layed out in the space between both your bodies. He itched to wrap it around you and pull you closer to him.

But unfortunately, how things were currently was as close as he was going to get. He wished to be something more with you, but even just being close at your side as friends kept him content. Silence filled the room before you inhaled to speak.

“Do you miss me?”

Completely taken aback by your question, Feyd turned his head to the side to look at you. His face contorted into an unusual look of concern. Your face stared at the nothingness of his ceiling until your eyes snapped to the side and your head slightly followed

There was no answer from him. He looked from your eyes down longingly at your lips then back up. You were unreal to him, something otherworldly, you were the most beautiful being he’d ever seen, and the most important to him as well. When he came out of his thoughts he looked back to you. Your face still awaited an answer.

“Why would I need to, when you’re right here?” His voice is gentle but still holds a bit of his rasp. Before you thought of an answer Feyd inhaled and continued “And I’ll never have to, I won’t let anyone take you from me.” There was that murderous gleam in his eyes that you’ve seen a handful of times. It was never directed towards you, god never, Feyd-rautha couldn’t stand the thought of you getting injured by his own hands, and it filled him with rage thinking of it being by somebody else’s.

You smiled at him, seemingly grateful at his answer and promise of protection. He returned your smile and inched ever so slightly towards you. His eyes trailed around the features of your face, they stop at your lips once again. This didn’t go unnoticed by you. You glanced down at his pale lips in return. Your faces began to invade the gap between the both of you.

Feyds arm reaches up and his cold smooth hand cups your face and pulls you in. His body heats up at the contact initiated. You close your eyes….and so does he.

Feyd-rautha twitches awake.

His mind recalls the images produced from his sleeping state. He remembers the odd question you asked him and his heart rate picks up when he recollects the end of the fantasy. It was like this most nights. Dreams and visions of you invading his mind, moments he’s had with you and moments he had wished to have with you.

The harkonnen desperately wants you back. It has nearly been 6 months since you seemingly disappeared without a single trace of where you may have gone. You aren’t dead, that is all that Feyd-rautha knows. And it keeps him determined to find you.

———————————————————————

Your ship wasn’t anything fancy. It could stay in space for long periods of time and is undetectable under any radar. It keeps you hidden, and that’s what you need most, especially now.

When you were found out to be residing on Giedi prime, you knew you had fucked up. You remember being awoken by your com that night ringing loudly. Once you groggily picked up, the call consisted of only a few sentences before you were on your feet and moving.

“Y/n, they’ve found you, you need to leave now! We have a ship ready for you at these coordinates!” The lady spoke on the other end. The coordinates were then listed on the screen.

You were grateful for the people at your job who were working to protect you from those who were out to hunt you, they believed in doing the right thing so when they discovered you floating through space, you told them your story and they took you in and offered you a job and their protection.

The truth is, you were the next Queen of your house, the standards for that queen were specific and high, one of the most important being you would need to be able to give birth to an heir. So from a young age you were tested for fertility so you could begin training, learning, and one day be married and give birth to an heir.

That was never fate.

A few weeks before you were to be married a freak accident occurred and it left you injured and to your houses dismay, infertile. Now, in most scenarios it wouldn’t have mattered if you were infertile but in your line of royalty there was information that could take down the entire nation of your planet that only a fit queen and king were supposed to know, and you were no longer of that standard of a fit queen due to your infertility.

You knew everything, and you were no longer going to be queen. This left them to having no choice. They were going to kill you and then begin training a different female relative of yours.

You were smart enough to realize their plans for you, so the night you found out of your infertility, you left. You knew they’d be after you the moment they realized you were gone.

Similar to when you ran away from your home planet you left most of your stuff on Giedi prime. Your heart ached a bit at the thought of leaving behind the good friend you had made here. You knew you couldn’t do anything about it so you at least gave him some attempt at closure when you scribbled down the note that he would later find. You’d miss him and he’d miss you ten times more. It’d drive him mad.

Along with the note that he found he also noticed his missing blade which brought you to the night prior. feyd had been showing you his collection of blades, you knew you shouldn’t have but you took one, you knew that someday your family would find you here and you wanted to be prepared. You hid the blade and as if you had foreseen the event, the very next night was when you would need to make your escape.

You dropped the note into one of your notebooks and slid the blade into your belt. You found the designated coordinates, and there your ship was. It hovered above the ground just enough for you to climb inside. You remeber looking back into the Giedi prime night, hoping that feyd-rautha would follow the one demand on that scribbled piece of paper.

Life after leaving wasn’t easy. You had plenty of battles and worked hard on combat training. The hardest part about leaving though was being away from feyd. You really did miss him. You cherished the moments you two had together and they often replayed in your sleep. With each day your desire to see him again grew.

Which led you to now, 6 months later, you are back, hovering just off of the atmosphere of the black and white planet. You know it’s a horrible idea to pay this visit but you need to see Feyd. The way you left him haunted you, you know you were his only form of support and you just up and left without any warning. You owe him the knowledge that you are sorry and willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to him.

You wonder what he is doing now, you wonder if he ever found that note, you wonder if he’d even cared that you’d left. You wonder if he’s missed you as much as you’ve missed him.

‘What ever he may think, I’ll find out myself’ you think, as your hand pushes the steering mechanism forwards. You ready yourself to enter Giedi prime once again. You flip the switches and type in your coordinates for landing. You push and your ship begins to fall into the planets gravity.

———————————————————————

Feyd-Rauthas arms are outstretched. His muscles exposed to the air within the threshold. Servants gather around him, painting the black shapes over his nearly white skin.

Ever since you left, this has been his only source of enjoyment. Killing those drugged slaves in the arena. His only way to cope with your disappearance.

Once his servants are done, he is handed his blade. The nervous harkonnen male avoiding heavy eye contact as he presents them. Feyds hands graze the tip of it and his reflection can be seen in its polished surface. Every time the blade is brought out he thinks of you and how somewhere in the galaxy you posses the missing one from his collection.

Feyd dismisses his servants, at this they all rush out, desperate to leave the presence of the na-baron. Unfortunately for the last servant to leave, the harkonnens blade penetrates her. The sharp object colliding with flesh sounds about 8 times before the sickening sound of a body against the ground follows.

Feyd-rautha walks out of his chamber Hungry for more meaningless gore. He scans the hallway, waiting for the next person to cross his path. Only about 10 seconds pass before a veiled being in all black turns the corner. Their back turned to him as they continue to walk.

The harkonnen smirks and follows quietly in pursuit. His presence going completely unnoticed by the target. Feyd-rautha readies his blade.

He grips onto the persons shoulder and pushes his blade straight to their jugular. Before he makes his next move, the person speaks.

“I thought you’d be here.” Your voice sounds through his ears.

Feyd-rauthas heart skips a beat, His knees almost go weak, and his hands begin to shake. Y/n? Is it really you? But It can’t be you, you left him without any indication of coming back, how could this be you? How could you have come back? The harkonnens mind races rapidly and his grip loosens.

With that, you slip out of it and turn to face him. You unveil yourself. Feyd-Rauthas heart races and his chest rises and falls unsteadily. His eyes stare down at you taking in the features he had missed so much. It really is you.

As Feyd stands awe struck You wonder what to do. It wasn’t like you could act casual ‘hey, I’m back after abandoning you for months and not telling you where I went!’ That would be arrogant and disrespectful. You know you owe him an explanation as to why you left but right now you are at a total loss for words.

His eyes hold hints of desperation and excitement yet his face displays utter disbelief. You wait to see if he’ll say anything but moments go by and he doesn’t. You take it upon yourself to speak first but regret it instantly when the sentences tumble out of your mouth and merge.

“Feyd-rautha-my lord, I’m terribly sorry that I left..-I I do have an explanation-“

You are cut off by his hands gripping you arms and pulling you into him. You look up at him before he connects your lips. His kiss is deep and full his hands are desperate as they go from your arms to your hair to push your face further in. You deepen the kiss too, making Feyds body warmer as you both stand.

After many seconds you both pull away for air. You’re shocked to say the least, as for the harkonnen he stares at you with desire, his eyes roaming you and his hands now feeling your waist, pulling you closer against his muscular torso.

“I’d like that explanation, we shall talk about it in my room. I will cancel my arena fight.” His voice is low and full of contained urgency. His heart hammers in his chest and it’s as if nothing else matters. You have finally come back to him.

He can’t take his eyes away from you as he leads you to his room. Once you two are there your lips meet once again and he’s ready to live out all the things he’s dreamed of knowing that you’re ready too. You love him and that’s all he’s wanted since the second he had met you.

Feyd-rautha is never going to let you leave him again, especially now. Your entire family and their army could come after you and he would be at the front line defending you with his life.

————————————————————————

Tag list: @freyagallileaevans

@saturnhas82moons

@flower-frog

@ruyaas-world

@aoi-targaryen

@gay-mashroom

@lechat-rouge

@alexa4040

[fuxuannie]

If requests are open can I request a Romantic Jing Yuan x Reader where he meets them after the Luofu crisis after centuries of thinking they were dead? Like, Reader went into hiding after being attacked and designated marastruck (When they arent) so it took them a while to come back to the Luofu. Any format, hurt/comfort please! If this isn't your alley or your requests aren't open please delete this! Thank you very much and have a nice day!

↳ pairing : jing yuan x gender neutral reader

↳ synopsis : in the generals free time, he decides that it's about time to face the person in his memories that he seems to have forgotten.

↳ authors note : hi!! um, i rlly dont wanna do this whole thing in one post sooo.. part two :D? I promise, I PROMISE i'll be writing it within the day and i'm so sorry requester for the inconvenience! if anyone would like to be tagged in the second part, please let me know! ♡

When JING YUAN imagines his younger years, he has a very vivid and blurry memory of a figure that he believes was once a friend he held dear in his heart.

A bright sunny day, a calm summer breeze and two potential Generals trained side by side. They tirelessly swing their swords, counting together; "9996, 9997, 9998, 9999, 10,000!"

"A Cloud Knight must never let slip their weapon, nor let slacken their form!"

"Yes, master!"

He can remember someone by his side, answering the same thing at the same time. He turns his head to look at them, seeing the focused expression as they looked at their master and watching it change to one of excitement once their gaze met Jing Yuan's.

"Can you believe it? We're Cloud Knights in training.. not only that, one day, you'll get to be the General!" Their voice, as sweet as a song, would echo in his mind over and over. It was so familiar, yet every time he could almost grasp an idea, it slips through his fingers as he's lost on who exactly this was in his memory.

Why was it all so hard to remember? As if his mind was refusing to recall all the important details, he could clearly remember their form, their voice and their clothes but.. he thinks that if he tried to look in their face, it would be nothing but a blur. A familiar blur, but unrecognizable nonetheless.

He racks his brain to think of another memory, but an all too familiar ache in his heart would appear when he tried. Was it due to his masters presence in most of them? Or was it something about these memories that brought along such a wave of sadness? The General was unsure of he answer, but he forced his mind to recall the events of that day.

"Heed this oath, as clouds that cover the heavens.. will the Knights protect the Xianzhou. Draw!"

"Yes, master!"

As the young man raises his blade, his eyes fall upon the crowd and can see them again. Amidst the people, they stood there with clear joy in their aura, even if their face was impossible to see, he could tell they were smiling from ear to ear at his moment. Jing Yuan's eyes sparkle at the sight, before looking up at his sword with determination in his heart.

"As clouds that cover the heavens, will the Knights protect the Xianzhou!"

There it is again. Another time in his life, one that he holds dear to him, they were there. It seems like everytime he thought of his years as a young Cloud Knight, their blurry face was in each and every memory. A part of him viewed it as something a little haunting, but a majority of his senses felt it was oddly.. bittersweet. Something about all of this, there must be a reason.. right?

And though unconciously, a memory came to mind. One that he believes he buried deep into his conciousness, as he feels a shiver through his body at the thought.

"H-he doesn't recognize us."

He sees them tightly grip their sword, yet a clear hesitation within their stance. Then he realizes the Mara-struck Cloud Knight that stands infront of them, it seems like they have to attack in order to protect themselves, but the way their hands shake makes the action nearly impossible. He sees how they take a few step back, disappearing from his peripheral vision as he was to focus on the danger that poses a threat ahead.

Before it could strike, Jingliu strikes it down with no remorse nor regret evident on her face. Her back is turned to Jing Yuan, who's expression is filled with conflicted emotions. "To become stricken with mara is to be a long-life species. If I too become stricken in times hereafter, you both must not hold back.

There's silence, before Jing Yuan opens his hesitant lips.

"Yes, master."

But his voice being the lone one to answer confuses him, he turns his back and he could feel his heart drop at the realization that they were no longer by his side.

His eyes widen, scanning around the rubble and flames that surround them, yet nothing is there. Nothing but your sword on the ground, and a pool of blood surrounding it. He opens his mouth, but no name escapes his lips to call for. More panic seems to seep into his reality when his Master tells him its too late, that they need to assist the others before people meet a fate similar to theirs, as he tries to call for a name he doesn't know. It's right there, it's right there at the moment he just needs to remember it!-

"(name)!"

There it is. The answer he'd been looking for, the name of who he's forgotten for so many years. Your name. Your name that was once deemed unforgettable by his tongue, with how naturally it would be recited at his every waking moment.

Now everything seemed a little clearer, how each and every memory made sense as your face began to appear in place of the blurry expression in each and every one of his thoughts. How he could see your smiles at your best, your tears at your worse and your anger when it would take over all your other emotions. You.. you were the person that meant everything to him. So why, why did he forget you? How could he have forgotten the person who gave him a purpose, who without, he wouldn't be who he is today?

And yet as his mind returns to that day, the day he returns back to the Alliance with nothing but your sword in hand and a heart full of regrets.. he knew the answer. Because it was much easier to forget, rather than to live life with a heart with too many words to say yet the person who was supposed to hear it no longer being around.

He knew that every day he'd blame himself for the loss of your life, that he'd spend his life visiting a gravestone that held no corpse. Because no matter how long he'd search the rubble caused by the attack, there was no corpse. Which only proved further his worse fear, that you had joined the fate of the master you both once trained under. Yet of the three, one remained. One remained to live with the guilt of surviving, and being the reasons both were no longer around.

One soul he failed to protect, the other he killed in order to do so.

How cruel the galaxy was to bring such weight upon one mans shoulder to bear alone. No shoulder to cry on, family to confide in or friends to share a drink with. He was a General, and had priorities to focus on before his own feelings.

Speaking of which, one of the many Cloud Knights had burst into his office with exhaustion in their lungs and an aching pain all over their body. "General." The Knight called out, bowing respectfully as Jing Yuan snaps out of the daze he was in for a long while. "We've caught a suspicious person just outside the main center, many suggest you will decide on the fate of this suspect." He explained, in which Jing Yuan nods his head and stands from his desk. "Well.. alright then. I suppose I could do so."

"By the way.. General, I hope that this isn't prying too much but.. you seemed a little lost for a few moments. Is everything alright?"

A smile forms upon his lips as he interlocks his fingers behind his back.

"Just remembering an old friend, is all."

[sollattes]

mako's sticky little secret

Makoto quietly sneaked into his room. After his evening patrol as the 'friendly neighbourhood spiderman', his injuries finally catch up to him as his adrenaline slowly dissipates.

He removed his shoes first before climbing into the window to his room. Once in his room, he took off his mask, took a deep breath, and sighed.

He was removing suit when the door creaked open to reveal you, in an oversized white shirt and pyjama, messy hair and holding up a bat, your face still a bit puffy, it looked like you just woke up, Makoto noticed.

The two of you just stood there for a hot minute, trying to process on what was going on.

"I can explain," Makoto started, but he was cut off when you rushed towards him and grabbed his face, looking at how much his face was beaten up.

"You okay? Does anything other than your face hurt?" You asked him cautiously, checking his body, he hissed when you touched his rib.

"Take off your suit and just seat on the bed, I'll grab some ice and first aid kit," you left him, Makoto still quite in shock but followed your instructions.

You came into the room and found Makoto shirtless. You noticed that there was a big growing bruise on his right rib, and lots of scratches and smaller bruises were scattered on him.

"What happened?" You questioned Makoto as you started treating his injuries, cleaning them gently first with a wet towel.

"It was just a really rough night," Makoto looked down. He owed you this. You didn't care if he was Spiderman. You only cared that he was hurt, and Makoto couldn't be affected by your reaction. Sometimes, he thinks that may be it was fate that brought you, a med student, and him, Spiderman, together.

The both of you just stayed silent. After that, as you were focusing on treating his wounds, you put the ice in his bruise, Makoto hissed with the sudden effect of the ice, and you took his reaction to the ice to put the ointment gently.

Makoto could only look at you with adoration in his eyes as he couldn't find in himself the comfy silence. He watched the way your hands handled his wounds gently but securely.

"So... when were you planning to tell me?" You asked him, not making eye contact.

"I.. I don't know... I don't wanna endanger you, I don't want people targeting you all because you know me, I dont want to put you at any risk. " Makoto didn't like keeping things from you, but this was for your own safety. Makoto knew that if he ever gets you in danger, he will never be able to forgive himself.

You now looked at Makoto in the eyes. You could see the sincerity shining in his eyes. Yes, it did hurt you that Makoto didn't tell you, but at the same time you get where he was coming from, you too wouldn't have told him if you were in his place, also afraid of the dangers that might come after him, so you didn't press in the matter anymore.

"Since when was this?" You looked down once again to continue treating his wounds, maybe changing the subject could ease up the tension.

"Since 16, you remember that one time that I was absent at school because I got bit by a sipder. Well, it turns out that Spider wasn't just an ordinary spider. It was a radioactive spider that escaped from a lab and crept into my room, then bit me, and it gave me these abilities." Makoto laughed slightly. You laughed with him, recalling the memory of you non-stop pestering his parents to let you see him.

As dawn approaches both you and Makoto, just continue talking. The topic ranges from his Spiderman life to core memories that both of you shared with each other, made with each other, and this night was going to be one of those memories.

Makoto could only wish that moments like these could last, hiding in the cheap blinds of the apartment, talking the ears out each other, sharing laughter.

But Makoto knew that the city was going to need him sooner or later, and you were going to be put in danger and be taken away from Makoto since after all it was all bound to happen, it was already written in stone the moment that radioactive spider bit him.

tags : @simpforchuchu

[jiracheer]

authors note: sorry for the lack of uploads,,, again :') I rlly lost motivation to write and recently got covid. hopefully this makes up for that <;3

if any of my friends recognize this,,, no u dont. 🔫

tags: afab! reader l 18+. minors/ageless/blank blogs dni or else you will be blocked.

A moan slips from Y/n’s lips once Ingo’s weight lifts only to push his hips flush against hers. It was pure torture with how slow his movements were, but eventually, a steady rhythm and speed picked up. Something that made his balls slap against her sensitive pussy to make her shiver and clench around him.

Nothing could ever beat this. The feeling of his body against her own– hell, it was honestly addicting to see him like this. Grounding himself with his hands firmly holding her hips with eyes screwed shut to concentrate, or was he trying not to lose himself in the way her walls hugged his cock nice and snug? 

Whatever it was Y/n could feel the way Ingo twitched and throbbed. The single motion made her legs hug his waist, arching her back when he hit a particular spot that had her seeing stars. If he kept that up, she’d surely cum.

“P… Please.” She breathed out. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, feeling the muscles there pull themselves taught at the contact. He was hot to the touch. Sweaty and more than likely at his limit. Even so, Ingo still cracked his eyes open to meet Y/n’s gaze.

He almost came at the sight of her looking up at him so… so, helplessly. 

“What is it pretty girl?” His voice was like gravel when he captured her lips with his, encouraging the words right out of her, “What do you want?”

“I want to cum, please Ingo.” Y/n chased right after him for another kiss, obviously hungry for him. She loved him so much it hurt. She wanted to be as close as possible.

The (h/c)-haired woman buried her face into Ingo’s neck, pressing heated kisses and nibbling every so often before she’d lean to whisper into his ear. “I-I… I want you to cum in me, to claim me as yours. Please-”

A yelp sounded from her as he began to pound into her. Something came over him. His actions were almost feral when he grabbed her arms to wrap them around his neck, holding her so close to him as he drove his cock into her. 

Why did she have to say that? Why did she have to encourage him? His thoughts were already running wild, and yet she had to make them come to a full stop by saying just that. Maybe she was just as guilty as well? He wanted to know what she thought. Just exactly what went through her thoughts- if she thought of him the way he thinks of her.

Ingo felt a twinge of guilt when she gripped the back of his head, pulling at his hair as moan after moan sounded from her. She chanted his name like a broken mantra, and it only encouraged him to bury himself deeper into her. A curse sounded from him at the feeling of her cunt struggling to take her in.

“Fuck.” The silver-haired uttered, nose bumping against the soft flesh of Y/n’s shoulder, he couldn’t help himself when he bit the skin there. Marking her sensitive skin pink and red, however, he made sure to kiss the spots gently afterward. “You feel amazing. You always do.”

He was so honored that he got the chance to do this with her– Y/n of all people. Never did he think they’d come this far, hell, he didn’t think he’d really be anything with her. 

He still recalled when the attraction began and where it started the spark between them, guiding them through so many milestones and celebrations. But something that always came to mind when they would have sex was when she wanted to move past their heated make-out sessions.

Ingo nearly broke into a grin when he remembered how red Y/N’s face was when she explained to him she wanted to go into new territories, opening up to him that she was, indeed, a virgin and wanted to give him her virginity. He swore to himself he never felt more starved, more in need of someone. 

Was it because he wanted to show her that he was capable of taking care of her? 

Or was it because he was excited to claim her? To mark her as his by completely ruining her with his dick? Whatever it was. It got them far and to where they were now. 

Ingo is brought back from his thoughts when he feels Y/n gush on his cock, her mouth agape as she hugs him tightly against her shaking form. He can feel the way her thighs shake, her heels digging more and more into his back– her breasts pressing against his chest and fuck. 

He wasn’t going to last long.

“H… Haa… Haaa-” Y/n could barely think, barely form a single word. Ecstasy consumed her. He consumed her, and she knew she wouldn’t want any other person to share moments like these with. 

“I love you so much,” She’d confess to the man practically rearranging her guts at this point, but when there was a stutter in his thrusts, she cracked a singular eye open to look at him before both would snap open at his expression. 

His cheeks were flushed beyond comparison. Pupils blown out and mouth slightly open in surprise, and it was there she realized just what she had said. 

Before she could even take it back– Ingo was back to ruthlessly driving his heavy cock into her, making her jump and grasp the sheets around her.

“Say it again.” He’d growl against her ear, kissing her cheeks– nose, forehead, throat. Just about everything. “Say it again please.” He begged her. 

Y/n was dazed. Thrown off guard by this, but she wasn’t complaining. Although she was sensitive beyond belief, she knew pleasing him was worth it. So she didn’t hesitate to pull his face to hers, lips ghosting over his as she uttered the words he desperately wanted to hear.

“I love you, Ingo.”

She’d surely be the death of him. 

[giftedyoungster3000]

A WAVE OF FLAMES

First responder C1

Summary: Darkish. When a normal night at home turns into a disaster you find yourself in the arms of a stranger. No use of y/n.

Warnings: dark, kidnapping, fire, manipulation, using emotionally unstable people, PLEASE DONT READ IF YOUR UNCOMFORTABLE

Events: juneiverse @buckybarnesevents

A/n just a heads up I suck at writing but I really wanted to join this event. Have not reread it so it probably sucks. About 970 words.

The alarm was ringing through your house a panic surged through your blood as you quickly sat up. And threw a hoodie over your head. Blindly grabbing your phone. You quickly made your way to your apartment door. Sliding a pair of slippers on and closing the door behind you as you stepped into the hall joining the crowd of your neighbours all walking to the staircase at the end of the hallway. You make your way into the crisp summer night holding your hoodie closer to your body, regretting only wearing the slightly Lacey sleep shorts and a thin bralette you had bought last week as a form of self-care.

As you watched multiple fire trucks pull up to your complex you couldn’t help but overthink everything. Where would you stay? Would you lose all your precious belongings? You tried not to panic as you stood amongst the flashing lights and harsh sounds. You couldn’t see any fire but you could smell it. It was faint but was there.

A tap on your shoulder pulled you from your overthinking spiral. You looked to your right where a large man stood. Your eyes glanced over him. The fireman gear he had on did nothing to conceal how massive he was.

You couldn’t help but think of what he must look like under that suit. Was he all muscle or was he also soft? As soon as your eyes made it to his face though not a thought was in your mind except his eyes. Those stormy blue eyes looked down at you with worry. He was speaking but you could focus on anything but those eyes.

A light shake of your shoulder snapped you out of his eyes.

“Hey, are you ok miss?” The man in front of you asked. You nervously nodded your head. Still unable to speak under his spell. “My name is Bucky I’m here to help you.”

“Bucky” you tried his name out on your tongue. You felt his hand land on your shoulder guiding you over to an ambulance.

“Hey Nat I think she may have a concussion,” he spoke to a lady with short red hair. Both of their hands gently pull you down to sit on the edge of the ambulance. Bucky stays beside you as the lady he called Nat checks you over. Your eyes stay on his until the paramedic puts a bright light in your line of vision. Snapping you out of the trance once again.

“She seems perfectly fine buck. Probably just a little shaken.”

“What’s your name sweetie?” She asks, bending down to be at eye level with you. You tell her your full name and she stands up and walks somewhere out of your view. Leaving you once again with Bucky.

“You alright doll?” He asks once again. All you managed to do was weakly shake your head. Trying desperately to be strong but all your fight left you as you looked into his eyes.

You couldn’t help but think back to the argument you had with your parents. The same argument that made you move to a city where you knew no one. The argument is that they decided to cut you off. It seemed silly now. It was hitting you just how alone you were. Your house is in flames with no one to help you.

A warm arm wrapped around you in comfort. And you felt yourself truly break.

You vaguely recall the lady coming back over to the two of you. Saying something to James before talking to you again. She gently placed what looked like an oxygen mask over your face. That lightheaded feeling came back stronger as you felt your mental state drift away.

-

A pounding headache is never what you want to wake up to. But as you pull yourself out of sleep you take in your surroundings. None of them are familiar and a panic takes over your breathing. You sit up and rip off the blankets that were laid carefully over your bare legs. You go to hop off the bed but a counter force makes you face plant on the carpet.

You hear movement from the other room. You turn around to assess the situation and to your horror, your leg is cuffed to the frame of the bed.

The sound of the door opening sends you into a panic. Flights are not an option while you are cuffed down so fight it is. You look for something, anything to protect yourself, settling on a book that is laid on the nightstand. Holding it in front of yourself you look at the door that is opening.

A smiling face pops through the door.

The man from last night stood on the threshold. His sweet voice filled the air. All filled with sweetness and warmth as if he didn’t lock you to a bed. Kidnapping you when you had trusted him.

“What is wrong with you?” You spat at him, needing answers. And desperately hope this is a big misunderstanding.

“I just wanted to help you doll.” There it was again that sweet voice that got you into this mess.

“Help me? You tied me to a bed!” You could believe you got into this situation.

“Hey, I only did that to protect you. I knew you wouldn’t understand right away.”

What the hell was he talking about?

“We’re meant for each other doll. And I couldn’t just let you walk away from me. I knew the second I saw you I had to have you.” His voice was so soft but those words were devious. “And now that I have you we can be happy. Don’t you wanna be happy doll.”

His blue eyes searched yours so desperately that you almost believed him. You couldn’t believe him though. Right?

[sunny6677]

Flames.

Summary: Skid is saved from a situation he never thought he'd be in. But now he has to heal from everything he went through. And he doesn't know how.

Chapter 8: A Delicious Reunion.

TWS: YELLING, TRAUMA IMPLICATIONS, SKID IS TRAUMATIZED, SKID HAS ANXIETY??? I DUNNO IF ITS THAT OR IF HES JUST TRAUMATIZED, FRANK GETTING ANGRY, GETTING ANGRY ON ONES BEHALF, DARK AND LIGHT-HEARTED IMPLICATIONS WITH FRANK TOWARD THE END OF HIS SEQUENCE, RUNNING ONTO A ROAD.

(SERIOUSLY. SKID GOES THROUGH A LOT IN THIS SHIT. BE WARNED. YES, THIS IS A STORY ABOUT HIM SLOWLY HEALING FROM HIS TRAUMA, OR AT LEAST TRYING TO. BUT THAT DOESNT MEAN ITS NOT SOMEWHAT DARK. BE WARNED. DONT WORRY THOUGH, IT DOESNT ROMANTICIZE ANY OF THE DARK THINGS IN IT THOUGH. IT IS POTRAYED AS A BAD THING. THIS IS JUST ABOUT SKID HEALING FROM A BAD EXPERIENCE.)

(I ALSO PARTIALLY WROTE THIS STORY TO KINDA COPE WITH MY TRAUMA, SINCE WRITING ABOUT PEOPLE SLOWLY HEALING FROM THEIR TRAUMA KINDA MAKES ME FEEL BETTER ABOUT MY OWN EXPERIENCES.)

————

Skid slowly turned around as he heard the sound of buzzing coming from the van. The wheels of the van practically scattered alongside the road in order to make it to Skid. Pump and Skid mother's heads were turned toward the van too. What was this? Perhaps someone accidentally recognized one of them as someone they weren't?

A bead of sweat slowly trickled down Skid's small but still somewhat pale face. What if it was someone coming to take him away again? What if it was Keender? A child such as he could not bear such possibilities. He took a step closer to his mother as the van approached closer, placing a hand on her leg for the sake of his own emotional support.

Finally, the van halted along the road, stopping beside the sidewalk that the three were standing upon. It was only then that through the dark shadows cast inside of the front seat of the vehicle that Skid realized something. It wasn't any ordinary man. No.. it was someone he knew. Dark eyes, shaggy black but short hair, a muscular body stature. Yes.. he knew this man.

It was Frank.

Skid quickly raised his head up, his little eyes wavering with an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. The relief of seeing someone you hadn't seen in a long time pressed on inside of him once more, like a heavy burst of water cracking through a fragile tank. He hadn't seen Frank in a year. An entire year without seeing Frank or his van. Oh, how Skid could recall the dreams and daydreams he'd have of someone he knew coming to save him from his captor..

Skid could recall spacing out, dreaming for Frank's van to drive by. He dreamt of Frank somehow knowing he was there. He dreamt of Frank bursting into that awful house and breaking into the basement to come and get him out of there. And now., Frank was really here. He hadn't been saved by him, no. But it was a relief to see him.

The only thing Skid could say was, "...Frank?"

Frank panted, breaths coming out of his mouth. He gasped. "Kid.. kid.. is that you? What are you doing here?! Where did you—". Skid hadn't known how to reply, his mouth remaining slightly agape from the pure shock of seeing someone he knew. Yes, it was relieving, but he had to admit, it wasn't something he was quite used to. Perhaps he'd feel the same emotions with everyone when he saw them again?

Pump clasped a hand over Skid's shoulder, and said in reply as if speaking for him, "He just came back yesterday. But they found him! And now me and him get to play together again! And now we can get ice-cream!" He spoke with such childish excitement. "What—what? What do you mean someone took him? What.. Lila? What happened?!" Frank looked over at Skid's mother, seemingly referring to her.

Skid's mother paused. "Well.. I'm not sure if I should be the one to tell you that." She looked back down at Skid. "...son, are you okay with me telling him what happened?"

Skid paused as well. But then, a meek grin formed on his face. "..ye—yeah! It's okay." What would have been slight anxiety transformed into suppressed happiness under the impression that it would be a bit too much if he practically screamed out of his own excitement. He didn't want to cause trouble or alarm or anything. So he did his best to suppress how he felt.

His mother smiled, and then looked back at Frank. She then took on a more serious tone. "Well.. apparently someone.. took him away. They said they found him stuck in some guys house, and—"

"What?! What do you mean someone took him away?!" Frank practically yelled. For a moment, the sheer force of the yell made Skid's mother and himself flinch back in surprise. Like a butterflies rapid wing speed, Skid's heart began to pound against his own chest from the inside. He took a step in front of his mother, holding back the urge to hide behind her. "Bu—But they found me! I'm okay now!"

"I know, kid, but who was it?! Who took you away?!" Frank practically snarled that sentence from out of his mouth, anger seething and vibrating in the very depths of his soul. Skid hadn't ever seen Frank so angry before, but he didn't like it. It was like for a moment, no one else existed but he and Frank. Nerves began to pluck at Skid from the inside, and he yelled back frantically as if about to panic, "I—I dont know! I'm sorry!"

He.. he did know who it was. Yes, that was so. But.. it was as if 'I don't know' was an automatic response to anger for him. He knew who it was now, but.. why was it that his words came out so much more differently than what he actually knew and felt?

Skid felt his mother's gaze upon him, and before Skid could react, he felt himself being pulled back behind her. Frank's gaze shifted into that of a suddenly calmed anger. It was like he realized something that Skid himself could not realize. Yet before Skid could think about it too much, his mother spoke up again, "Listen, Frank. I know you're mad. I am too. But just be gentle with him, okay? He's having a hard time right now."

Frank looked as if he wanted to say something, but he held it back. Gritting his teeth, he said, "...fine. I'm sorry. Look, kid, I'm sorry for yelling at you—I shouldn't have done that." Frank stated in a much calmer tone, looking off to the side as if shame for what he did. Skid looked up at Frank, and he didn't speak a word for a moment, as if paralyzed. But gradually, the words came out of his mouth, "...no, it's okay."

Pump had been listening in the entire time with a slightly worried face. With little steps, he walked closer to Skid, and reached out his hand. It was an act of an attempt of emotional support, and even in Skid's eyes, he could tell that was what it was. Skid smiled nervously back the best he could, but he made no effort to take Pump's hand in his own. In response, Pump only gave a confused frown.

"Hmmm.. hey, you're back, right, kid? How about I give you a lil' somethin' since you're back?" Frank's offer was simple. By the fresh small of pints of ice-cream from within the van, Skid could tell what he meant by that. Obviously, he knew. This was an ice-cream van after all and he wasn't stupid. Though he couldn't shake one specific foul odor from behind all of the scents of ice-cream.. even so, he didn't bother to comment on it. As far as he knew, that odor was there even before he was taken away. Sometimes it would mysteriously vanish, but Skid tried not to question it.

Pump's eyes lit up with a shine of excitement, though Skid's mother only arched a brow. "..what do you mean by—"

Frank rummaged through the van, his arms searching for.. whatever was in the driver's seat with him. Then, at almost lightning speed, Frank whipped out three cones of ice-cream. One was a white color, and it almost resembled Skid's old mask in a way. It even smelt like Vanilla. One was an orange color, and it weirdly resembled Pump's mask. It even smelt like Sherbert ice-cream almost. And finally, there was a purple one that smelt grape-flavored. Each of the three cones had been for the three. "Here you go! Have at it!"

Skid and Pump's mouths quickly formed into an 'O' shape, and their eyes shined as if they had stars in them. Skid's mother only looked on with mild excitement and slight confusion. How on earth had he managed to make ice-cream that fast? Then again, her son managed to somehow defy the laws of physics basically every day.

Skid and Pump practically rushed foward while Skid's mother only took a step closer to grab the purple ice-cream. Skid grabbed his ice-cream, eager to be able to eat it after so long. Some of the cream barely melted onto the cone, yet even so, he began to lick at it furiously like he hadn't eaten in days. It was like how he was whenever he scarfed down donuts. Though upon remembering what happened after, he started licking a little slower.

Pump practically devoured his ice-cream, scarfing it down as if it were the last food known to man. Skid's mother only ate her ice-cream normally, looking down at the two kids with a slightly amused smile. "Thanks, Mr. Frank!" Skid and Pump beamed in unison along with Skid's mother, though Skid said it a little more quietly than Pump did. "No problem, kids, and no problem to you either, Ms. Lila." Frank replied with a soft chuckle.

Frank then blinked, as if realizing something. "...hey, where'd your costume go?"

Skid opened his mouth to give an answer. But nothing came out. His pupils shook as if remembering something. His heart drummed against his chest a little faster. And for a moment, his pale skin felt as if it had suddenly gone colder. It felt as if for a split second, he died.

Finally, he replied softly, "...uhhh.. I don't wanna talk about it."

"Oh.. uh.. okay." Frank replied. Pump then looked as if he were in thought for a moment, before he then said, "Hey, Mr. Frank? Can you drive us to the candy store?"

Frank froze. His lips clenched tightly shut as if in fear. If there were any sounds to describe how his facial expression looked, it would be the sound of breaking glass. "Uhhhh... no, kids. Not today. I'm, uh.." Frank looked off to the side, noticing something. He then grabbed a black bag, which seemed to be holding a somewhat bad smell. "I'm cleaning out my van. Heheh.."

The three paused, looking at eachother. "Oh! Okay." Pump agreed, not exactly fighting his refusal. "We—Well, I'll be off now, kids, but.. uhh.." Frank peeked his head out the window, and looked down at Skid, "Look, kid, if you ever need anything—I'll be in my van, okay?"

"...uh.. okay. Thanks, Mr. Frank." Skid smiled nervously. For another reunion, this was somewhat uneventful. But maybe all that really mattered was that he was back. After all, maybe not everyone was going to freak out once they saw him again. Maybe all that was needed was just safety, and the comfort of everyone he knew before being taken away.

Frank then peeked his head back in the car, and he started it up. Revving the engines, he then quickly drove off. Skid's mother arched a brow as Frank drove off into the distance. "..are you sure he was really cleaning out his car, kids?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" Pump asked, arching a brow innocently as he looked up.

For a moment, Skid's mother didn't give a direct answer. "Um.. its not important. How about we go find somewhere to sit down and hang out for a bit, okay? Then we can go get some candy after we're done eating our ice-cream!"

Skid and Pump looked up at her. And Pump suddenly exclaimed in happiness, "Yeah!" He looked over to Skid, "Let's go over to that bench!". Skid stuttered in response slowly, "...wh—what be—"

Pump's arms suddenly expanded, and his hands lightly grabbed Skid's head. He then forcefully turned Skid's head over to where the bench was. It appeared to be a regular bench, sitting beside the sidewalk with a tree's leaves casting a shadow over it.

"...oh. Okay.." Skid could only really quietly say that in response.

Taking his hands off of Skid's head, Pump suddenly dashed foward into the road where no cars were visible. "Wa—Wait! Pump!" Skid's mother called out. She, still holding Skid's hand, began to rush forth onto the road. It was not traffic she was afraid of, but rather the possibility of him running off and never to be found. Or that was at least Skid's guess. He only assumed so since there were no actual cars on the road other than parked ones.

He did wonder for a moment why there were no cars. Perhaps something important was going on? He tried not to question it either way, since it wasn't the strangest thing that had ever happened in this town. If anything, it was the most normal thing that had happened.

Yet in this moment, Skid felt strangely.. happy. Happy that he was back in this carefree life with his family, his friends, everyone he knew. But.. he couldn't shake feelings of something being off.

...

No. He was fine. He was okay. He didn't have any worries.

He was fine. He didn't need help anymore. All he needed to worry about was being able to eat his now slightly more melted ice-cream.

————

Under the shadow of the tree, they sat. Skid sat beside his mother, who was sat upon the bench next to him. Pump had already eaten the entirety of his ice-cream, and he was standing before the bench, rambling on and on about things that had happened with him lately. Though mostly, he ranted about Susie quietly as Skid listened. The only reason he was being quiet was because Skid's mother was on the phone with her friend.

A bit of vanilla ice-cream had gotten onto Skid's face. He was barely done with his ice-cream by now. He tried to multi-task the best he could by eating it and listening to Pump at the same time though. His attention span couldn't exactly be helped whenever he kept finding himself accidentally listening in on his mother's conversation. It wasn't anything important. She seemed to just be talking about work.

Skid's mothers gaze drew towards him. Immediately, his head spun back towards Pump, and he tried to pretend like he wasn't looking at her. Why he was doing this? He didn't know?

"...Skid, are you okay?" Pump inquired, seeming puzzled.

"Huh?" Skid uttered. He shook his head. "Oh! Yeah! I'm okay! Keep going."

With hesitant obligation, Pump continued to rant quietly.

/////////////////////

E

[callipraxia]

The Unexpected Memoirs of Fiddleford H. McGucket: Chapter Two

Continuing from where we left off in Part I - have a Part II. The typographical errors in the first section are deliberate, reflecting Our Hero's confusion and alarm while writing it. "Denken mit der Hand" is German for "thinking with the hand," which is the slogan of Leuchtturn1917 notebooks, which are rather nice notebooks; I wrote the vast majority of FWJB in three of them I got on a really good sale once, so just a little shout-out there.

Again, the Prologue and Chapter One can be viewed here. That said, on with the...tale? As before, warnings for references to Fiddleford's OCD, and this time for very mild reference to the existence of sex.

Chapter Two

[A page of the manuscript is creased and stained, letters blurred in places from being handled before the ink dried fully. After the sentence “Stanford? Is that really you?” there is a meaningless series of keystrokes, ‘wekaqothwo[eknf[oaqnwooooejf,’ followed by heavy presence of scribbling, seemingly to conceal a mix of typed and handwritten text. Visible through these marks are variations on the word ‘no’ in different sizes and multiple repetitions of the statements ‘what did I say,’ ‘why,’ ‘I know what I know,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘God help me’ before meaningful content resumes near the bottom of the page]

Icol I couldn

It’s been a few days since i last worked on myremembering, and I spent them hiding out wherever I could. Couldnt stay still couldn’t rest anywhere not after what I wrote and how it just came into my head.

Stanford.

I suppose there could be two people who both cross paths with me, and they’re both named Stanford, and it’s their first name both times – but I can’t tell, because my brain is playing tricks on me. It has got to be my brain playing tricks on me, but as soon as I typed it, all at once – suddenly, I could see him like he was in front of me – this person I am remembering now, my Friend - in my head, and sure enough, he looked plenty like -

I know it’s insane. It’s got to be. My mind playing tricks on me. I don’t know the man personal or anything, but everybody around here knows all about Stan Pines. People are almost as sorry to see him coming as they are to see me! And, of course, we can’t go forgetting that time he smashed a baseball bat over my head. Though I was peering in the man’s windows at the time.

Why? Doesn’t make any sense. But then, what about my life has made sense in a long time? It seemed like I needed to keep an eye on him, so I did, at least until he knocked me upside the head and let me know he’d decapitate me with the same instrument the next time he found me lurking – though as I recall, he used a much longer sentence which contained a number of elegant terms and descriptions to embellish that idea, all of which I’d rather not repeat, as they were the kinds of things that do not look nice in print.

Because that’s just how Stan Pines is. He’s a big loud carnival man. No subtlety. He comes up with funny stories but he is not going to do the things I half-rememberst he things I have done, that we did, whatever they were. I’m just surprised he don’t chase me off from around the M.S. more often – cause I go there, and it’s like I know what’s real and what ain’t, at least as long as I stay in certain rooms, and I have no business going in the other rooms anyway. One time I did turn the wrong way and somehow end up in Stan’s kitchen and I pulled all the hair I had out and got started on my beard, just trying to get out of there, didn’t want to be in the kitchen, don’t like the kitchen, I was going to leave and then it was like nothing had ever happened and I didn’t know if it really happened did anything happen who wasn’t there I dont rememmbener

It isn’t possible. This person I remember – he can’t be Stan Pines. Stan Pines can’t be him. Something is wrong. I don’t know much to do about it but keep typing, though, and just use Stan’s name until I can think of something that makes more sense, because I can’t remember nothing just thinking about it in my brain like that’s any good. My brain’s no good. Side effects. Scars. Neuroplasticity. But when I just stop thinking and types, then the words just comes, the pictures in my head, the memories….Denken mit der Hand. The fingertips, anyway. It helps.

It isn’t possible. I didn’t work with no Stan Pines, and the Stan Pines I know of ain’t – what? A monster? A hallucination? He ain’t! He’s a real person and I am not going to do anything to him because that would be morally wrong. He exists and has nothing to do with me or monsters or whate ver happened. I’ll just use his name, though, as long as my hands wants to, and maybe figure it out when I can I don’t know what else I can do.

* * * * * * * *

“So lemme get this straight,” said Emma-May, putting the two plates in her hands down in front of each of us before she sat down on her chair at the table. “Some fella you haven’t seen since you were in college and haven’t heard from at all in years just...called you up out of a clear blue sky today, and he did this to offer you a job. Of being his assistant. Building what sounds like something out of Star Trail, and which even you say you wouldn’t have called more than mathematically possible before he said he was actually doing it. Does that pretty much cover it?”

Put that way, I had to admit, it did sound pretty absurd. Definitely way more absurd, anyway, than it had when I’d been the one saying it, and far, far crazier than when Stanford had pitched the idea to me.

“Pretty much, yep,” I said.

“And this genius recluse friend of yours wants you to come up north for months to work on this - and therefore for you go to for months at a time presumably never so much as laying eyes on me or your son?”

I glanced at the son in question. Tater, though, was occupied with cutting his green beans into smaller and smaller pieces and then arranging these pieces into patterns with the tip of his fork, and he did not seem to even notice me. I wondered if he’d even heard what his mama had said. I’d been...peculiar, as a child, no doubt about that, but even I thought Tate spent an awful lot of time seemingly lost in his own little world, busy with who knew what…

“Nobody ever said anything about any of us not seeing anybody else for no months at a time,” said I. “I reckon I can could visit onna weekends..." I considered what I remembered of Stanford's work habits. "Or at least the mail holidays," I prevaricated. "And maybe when school goes on break, you and Tater could come up to Oregon and see me a while. It would do the boy good to get some fresh air, I bet, and everybody who doesn’t already - “ by which, in theory, I meant Emma-May and Stanford – “could get to know each other.”

Emma-May cut her pork chop with deliberate, precise movements. “I’m not sure what good that would do me,” she said, “given how bad this man seems to be at keeping in touch with his so-called best friends. Dropping them for years and then calling ‘em up again only when it’s to his benefit.”

She said that with the same edge to her voice she had had when she was talking about how absurd the whole thing was, and I realized it wasn’t me she was mad at. Well, not entirely me, anyway. Probably to some degree me, being so impractical and all, but it seemed that some of her disapproval might be rooted in some kind of indignation on my behalf.

“Now, Emmy,” I said. “Don’t be like that.” I sighed and shook my head. “Truth be told, honey – until today, I’d half-figured that he was dead – we never talked much after college, long-distance charges, you know, but it was only two years ago he quit writing back if I sent him something now and then. I..." was too much of a coward to find out for sure. "I'm just glad nothing happened, apparently. I suppose genius must have its quirks.”

Emma-May’s mouth tightened up a bit, and I couldn’t tell if it was in annoyance or amusement as she looked back and forth between me and the boy for a moment. “I’ve noticed,” she said. “But you’ve always been able to get enough of a grip on yours, Fids, to do right by people regardless, so I don’t see why you’d excuse someone else for just dropping you for however many years without so much as a word. Much less that you’d do that and then - “

But she didn’t finish her sentence, just shaking her head as she cut her meat again. I frowned at her across the table.

“And then what?” I asked.

“When you were talking about him, trying to sell me on whatever craziness this is,” she said slowly, after another moment. “Your voice changed.”

I continued to frown, even more puzzled than I had been before. “It did? Like what?”

“Like it does when you’re trying to explain what’s so interesting about some dead British lady with a silly name who never even built a real computer, but somehow, she’s really important if you care anything about computers -.”

“You mean Ada Lovelace?” I considered this idea for a moment. “Hm. Well, I suppose Stanford is a brilliant theoretical thinker - “

“He must have been thinking of something mighty brilliant, to pull all this out of nowhere after two years in the middle of nowhere,” she said.

I put my fork down. “Your voice changed just now, Em,” said I. “And I know I’m not any good at telling, but to me, it sounded about half-like you thought I was lying about something, and you wanted me to know you thought it, but I’ve got no idea why you’d think that.”

“Lyin’ is bad,” announced Tate. He never looked up from the green beans, which were now shredded to a scale so small that it was hard to tell what they’d originally been.

“That’s right, it is,” said Emma-May. “And so is playing with your food, Tate. Eat your beans.”

“Waste not, want not,” I added sanctimoniously, not knowing what a hypocrite I was ultimately going to turn out to be.

Still, though – I hope my son took the lesson to heart, and not just because I had dallied with the environmental movement back in my day. It’s because my life has been a perfect example of what that saying means, one of the best I think I know of. What I wasted, after all, was the one thing you can’t ever make more of – that is to say, time. So much time – so many opportunities to be with my wife, with my son – to have any kind of life worth living. Wasted and wasted, and now I sit here, wanting and wanting, with no way to ever address the problem.

* * * * * * * *

“You really do want to do it, don’t you?” asked Emma-May.

We had dropped the subject of Stanford and his sudden offer at the table after we'd turned to the task of getting Tate to eat, and we had not picked it up again after supper. Now, it had been several hours, other subjects had been discussed since, and we had gone to bed, but I knew at once what she meant.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” I told her. Then, as she remained silent, I added, “I know how crazy it’s got to all sound to you, Em, but that’s just because you don’t know Stanford. You don’t know what he’s capable of. And if we’re working on the same thing...what he's suggestin' now...I don’t even know what we might be capable of together.” I felt strangely as if I was a little short of breath, though I was not, at the thought, and clenched a knot of sheets in my hands to keep them busy, to keep them from going toward my head. What I was feeling – it was enough like the nervousness that I sort of wanted to pull my hair, but it wasn’t the same. The mere fact I could control it proved that. But -

“And anyway – let's say you're right for a minute,” I conceded. I didn’t believe it – I don’t think I could have believed it, not then – but I’d learned that sometimes you had to entertain an odd notion to have a conversation with somebody. “But even if you are – if he really has just lost his mind – then I still...I’d still feel like I ought to go and find out for sure, anyway, you know? And try to help him, if I can.”

“And right there’s where I start having a problem with all this,” said Emma-May. She turned onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow to look at me. The moon was full that night; between that and the indirect glow of the nearest streetlight, coming into our room between the blinds, we could see each other clearly, if only in shades of grey. Shadows lurked under her cheekbones and chin, and the gloom left the glints that were her eyes looking strangely decontextualized. “That’s what I was trying to say at supper. If this man - “ that was the only thing I can ever recall hearing her call him, though I don’t know why – “is someone who’s this important to you – then why don’t I already know him, Fiddleford? Why have I never even heard you mention his name before? Why did he just – drop you for all these years, and why he’s picking you back up now? And why are you even willing to speak to somebody who treats you like that? Much less drop your whole life and go work for him in the middle of nowhere? I’ve never even heard of that town you mentioned – what didja say it was?”

“Gravity Falls,” I said. “Weird name isn’t it? But I guess it suits for somewhere to make a good physics breakthrough.”

“Sounds like a paradox to me,” she said. “Gravity don’t fall, it pushes everything else down under itself. It always ends up at the top, I reckon, if you think about it...what’re you grinning at?” she added, her eyes narrowing as she looked down into my face.

“At you bein’ so particular,” I said. I put up one hand to her face, allowing my thumb to trace the round line of her cheek. In the dark, her hair looked like the void of space as it fell on her neck and over my hand, endlessly dark, only sparsely speckled with the faintest of dying stars wherever the light hit it so as it moved. I could barely stay in a room with her for a day or two whenever she had her permanents put in, but it had been weeks since her last one, and so there was nothing more disturbing in the air than the androgynous, nondescript - though not unpleasant - smell of Pantene Pro-V, now. My hand came to rest on her shoulder, which was bare besides the thin, silky strap on her nightgown. “Come here,” I added, pulling her toward me as I moved to kiss her.

“You didn’t answer none of my questions, Fiddleford,” she said, her voice only just loud enough for me to hear.

“Shh,” I whispered back to her. Her fingers were locked together at the base of my skull; am I imagining it now, with the advantage of hindsight, or did I think, even then, that her grip was harsher than usual, as though she was trying to keep me from slipping away? “We’ll talk about it later,” I added before starting to kiss her neck.

But we didn’t – and if I had been being honest, either with her or myself, I’d have never said that we would. Wasn’t as if we didn’t know better, after all – not like it wasn’t a long, long day’s walk away from the first time I’d ever used sex to distract her from some conversation I didn’t want to have. Instead of trying to answer her questions, for her or even for myself, I lied to the both of us that night and avoided meeting her eyes all I could the next morning as she and Tater got ready to go out for the day. Once they were gone, I went into my workshop and sat down there, barely moving or thinking, even, as the morning crept by. Finally, at precisely 1:30 in the afternoon, the phone rang.

“Hello?” I said as I picked it up, as levelly as I could. “Fiddleford Computermajigs.”

“Uh – it’s Stanford again.”

“I figured,” I said. “Just gotta say the same thing on the work line all the time, though, just in case it ain’t.”

“Huh. Yes, well. I’m sure you know better than I do about...that sort of thing.” I smiled to myself, picturing the look I imagined was on his face as he said that. I wasn’t much of a businessman, but by comparison, I might as well have been the Mister Congeniality of Wall Street. If we did become rich and famous, I reckoned I was going to have to be the face of the operation, pitiable of a condition though this was for the operation in question. “So. What’s the verdict?”

Straight to the point. It seems to me now that I should have realized there was something...off, in that. Stanford had always been the type to prevaricate about asking anybody for anything, talking the problem the long way around the barn and making up all sorts of paper-thin rationalizations, and he wasn’t known for his brevity even outside of awkward situations of that sort. It took him two paragraphs to say what it would’ve taken most people one sentence to sum up, or at least, that was what it had often done before. Now, though…Nothing. Just business.

“I can’t just walk outta my house on a Wednesday without a word to anybody,” I said. “I got client orders to finish up, bills to collect on, and I got a wife and a little boy here….” Stanford said nothing and I sighed. “My life, I can’t just...up and do whatever I want without no warnin’, Stanford. We aint’ kids anymore, you know...but if you give me another week,” I added, with a feeling of doing something wrong and yet utterly inevitable, “give me that and then...I reckon I’m in.”

* * * * * * * *

Maybe what happened next was why I didn’t notice anything odd about what had come before, because getting off the phone sure didn’t end up being nearly as easy of a task as getting onto it had been. It was like, with two words, I’d flipped a switch, and there was the Ford I’d knew – he could always talk your ear off when he got excited about something, sure enough, and his thanks for my agreement were so exuberant, and the praises heaped onto my mechanical genius so exorbitant, that I probably ended up spending a good hour just protesting or pointing out areas where I felt he’d sold himself short – something which would then set him off again on my excellence, and without any of our other old friends around to holler for us to get a room already, we did make us quite the mutual admiration society! And that was even before Ford started telling me more about what work he’d already done on this thingummajig, and way, way before we ever started swapping ideas, bouncing off each other, picking up where we’d left off as though it hadn’t been five minutes since we’d last seen each other….

Oh, how we went on. It lasted for hours, that first real conversation we had, and I won’t lie and say I wasn’t having a ball most of the time, though I noticed even then that there was something about Stanford’s voice which just seemed odd that day. It had a strange, rusty note to it, and that combined with the way he had to clear his throat more and more often as the hours went on by gave the curious impression that (as I would soon learn was in fact the case) he hadn’t spoken for a long time. What I noticed and decided to just ignore, though, without even thinking through "I'm gonna ignore this - "

Like, for instance, there was this moment where he got to describing something in the plans he had made and let slip that he didn’t quite understand it. Why, I wonder now, didn’t I tell him to hang on a dad-gum minute, right then and there? Why didn’t I ask him, Stanford, old buddy, old pal, how did you write or draw it all down if you don’t understand what it is and how it works? If you need me to explain it to you? Or, a little later, when he cleared his throat for about the hundredth time and then said that this was the best conversation he’d had out loud in years – why did I not raise an eyebrow right then and ask, buddy, how in the world else have you been having conversations if not out loud? What’s that even supposed to mean?

Maybe I just can’t see him very straight – 'him' being who I was back then, I mean, not Stanford. Can’t even get my mind – what’s left of it – around someone being as innocent and stupid as that more-than-thirty-year-old man who sat there in that garage in Palo Alto that day. Or maybe it’s just that I was already thinking something that Stanford ended up saying out loud, later on. We had gotten off on a tangent about the old days (Em walked in during that conversation, I recall; she must have heard the racket produced when I was left temporarily helpless with laughter at some half-remembered anecdote. I looked up when Emma-May opened the door, but before I could say anything, she had already backed out of the garage again without a word), and on the other end of the line, Stanford sighed before he said something that surprised me.

“Those were good times, weren’t they?” he asked hoarsely – I doubt he was able to speak a word the next day, which I suppose made it convenient that he really did not have anybody around him to say one to. “I don’t think I’d even realized before how much I’ve missed you, Fiddleford.”

I could have asked him some questions right then. I don’t reckon there’s a snowflake’s chance in Sarasota he would have told me the truth, but it would have caught him off-guard, and he never was much of a liar. Evasion, he could do that well enough, but outright spinning a lie from nothing? Nah, I’d have known when he did it. Maybe I could have even got a clue that could have helped me put it all together a little sooner, before it was too late. Maybe I’d have started having more misgivings, ones I couldn’t deny, and maybe I’d have spent that last week at home talking myself out of going up there, instead of spending it making Em, at least, angry with my constant lack of attention to anything I was doing – a state of distraction she knew full well was just a symptom of the fire Stanford had lit up under my butt, filling my mind up with ideas and plans – enough that I was willing to brush it off as just Stanford being Stanford when he all but nailed one red flag to the mast with his insistence that I not tell anybody where I was going, or what I was doing, or who I was going to be doing it with. Even when that prohibition was extended to what I said to my own wife….

How stupid was I, anyway? I let myself reckon it was all right to keep important information from my wife. As much as it shames me to say it – I reckon I even justified it to myself. That I told myself, ah, well, Emma-May wouldn’t understand what I was talking about anyway, would she? Oh, sure, she’d been to college – but it had just been teacher college. Did that even count, really? She wasn’t any kind of genius, not somebody who could follow a conversation with the likes of us -

Of course, I reckon I did this all sub-liminal like, not realizing I was doing it, because surely I was never awful enough to just say something like that even in my own head? Not about Emma-May, anyway. Not about my own wife – my boy’s mother. Surely I wasn’t that confound arrogant and proud. The thing I remember is grinning and admitting – like the blind fool I was – “I, uh - me, too," before I cleared my throat and tried to think like a businessman. "What you were sayin', though, I think you're right about that - does sound like that project we did on the three-body problem. I reckon we could...."

[natcracken]

Finding the Master Sword in TotK is the closest I've ever seen a big budget game get to the Outer Wilds formula. I won't be mentioning any specific discoveries, just the structure.

Once you complete the first task for Purah, there is nothing stopping you from going directly to the sword other than knowledge of where it is and a stamina requirement. Put a pin in stamina, thats the biggest deviation and its for last.

Most players will of course not have this knowledge so the game has several different paths of different intrusiveness to push you towards this discovery.

The least obtrusive is to just intuit it. If you are just curious about what you see and get lucky, you may arrive at the destination with no prompting from the game.

Or you may have prior knowledge of the games inhabitants and recognize that something is out of place and investigate.

If you arrive either of these ways you will have no context for how this came to be. You may be able to come to the acursed realization from the areas color scheme, but you might not and can't be sure. This is the most subtle Outer Wilds-like element that other game puzzles lack: the process of discovery informs other aspects of the story. The characters, the world, the lore. All get fleshed out during the pursuit of the answer. Luckily TotK has this in spades. (Perhaps even too much with the memory sequences)

If you rush ahead of the "intended path" and pursue Gannon, you have the option to reveal murals that give you a massive clue. These are explicitly brought to your attention in the intro sequence (although you can miss them if you ignore Zelda fangirling over them.) However the realization that the murals should be taken literally and are actionable in the gameworld are left as an excersize for the player. I can forsee a path where a player tries to rush the ending, sees the answer, gets gatekept by the difficult enemies, returns to the intended path, and doesn't realize the mural they saw during this escapade was important. They're in for a massive "augh you IDIOT" moment down the line. Especially if they don't recall the mural when they make the discovery, and see it again at the end of their playthrough; reminding them of it.

And then there are the geoglyphs. Theres lots of nuance within this route. If you follow the recommended path to the Rito Village you are highly likely to come across a character that tutorializes the glyphs and introduces them as a main quest. They are present in many other places on the map in case you miss them. But you are more than capable of finding them early. If you head southeast from your first landing in Hyrule you may be in for a particularly late-timeline sequence. BotW players are at another advantage in this quest. Just recognizing the geoglyphs as something new is an advantage. A first time player aware of the franchises reputation may just assume that "ancient chalk art" is part of the lore. Some of them around the center of the map are especially adeptly placed to feel like they "belong there".

Next is the godess statue. A player doing the intended route, with prior knowledge, who missed the NPC, may simply choose the visit the godess statue as its on the way. They are in for an upsetting surprise on that front, but will also access the geoglyph map. Having most players visit this area early on their quest is an especially adept trick to make some later gut puches land hand.

Aa you gather the geoglyphs you have a slim possibility of intuiting the truth from the name of the game itself. The droplet animation is very deliberate and its not to much to figure out that these are the Tears of the Kingdom (could also refer to the special stones but their shape is just off enough that I think its just a mythic coincidence). How are these Tears, not just droplets, "of" said kingdom? Oh

And last (as far as I'm aware) is the great deku tree. Clearing the lost woods in this game is a whole other discussion and I dont think its handled as elegantly. I imagine returning players might feel especially cheated here. But once you find your way in and complete a fight, the deku tree will straight up tell you where the sword is, even giving you a moving map marker. This is the only path I think was handled poorly. The "reward" of being told exactly where to go may actively rob you of this discovery, one of the strongest moments in the entire game. I can see a mechanically inclined player being satisfied, or path version where you figure out the mystery and just need assistance with the location. But as a standard route it lacks the finesse of the others. It almost feels like a "last resort" option to catch any players who can't figure it out by other means; but a better last resort already exsists in finishing the geoplyphs. When analyzed from a discovery and exploration perspective, this route is a trap. It appears like a grand path in the same way as the geoglyphs, but with none of the narrative or character development that comes with it. So its simmilar to luck or intuition but without the discovery of them. Its all of the downsides of the other routes without the shining moments that offset them.

Eventually you will get enough information to pursue the answer yourself. If you don't figure it out and complete all of the geoglyphs first, you are treated to a more comprehensive sequence that explicitly tells you what happened and where to go. Either way you will come up against the stamina check. This is the greatest difference from the Outer Wilds formula as it gates your progress based on a mechanical stat. You must have completed enough shrines to have started investing in stamina (most players invest in a buffer of health first so this may be quite late in the game.) Or have made enough main quest progress to reveal the trading shrine. Either way you must have completed at least 20 shrines or traded equivalent heart containers. This is completely in line with series tradition, its in fact a subversion as a player may have been collecting health to prepare for this only to get dunked on with stam. But I can't help but feel like this was too much of a hedge. What does this gate actually stop you from doing that the mystery already doesn't. The overwhelming majority of players won't rush the geoplyphs; they will do them as they travel along the main quest or in their own rambling; so it doesn't block them. It only blocks players who either get lucky or intuit the answer themselves. And those groups deserve better. Congratulations on your discovery! Now fuck off untill you grind more levels.

I can only assume this was an act for caution. They looked at metrics for how many people rushed gannon in BotW and decided to hedge against stuff like it, in this case to preserve balance. Except TotK already had a system for that. The mob drop + combining + world scaling system keeps your dps tightly locked to the difficulty of the areas you're in. You can get slight advantages if you push into late game areas and then scamper off with the loot. Having the master sword from the very start of the game would not change this. There was no reason to be as cautious as they were when players can already snag royal guard weapons from the castle, only gated by the same unlock that gates getting to the sword.

With one exception: players who used guides. This player will be rightly gatekept from a reward they did not earn. I hope that this is just a coincidence are game are not being actively developed around gamefaqs and ign. Its a players own responsibility to curate how they engage with 3rd party media and if they want to cheat themselves out of their own video game then let them. And mock them. But don't develop around them.

I don’t really have a way to end this. Lots of naysaying in the back half and thats pretty much just me being a pedant. The overwhelming majority of players (me included) will follow an intended path with slight deviations here and there, and be completely fooled into thinking its a matter of either our own genius or tenacity and not extremely tight design. This is of course the mark of masterful design. This sequence is an acomplishment, a gamble on their own mastry of player psychology that paid off. I just can't help but wish they were just that more confident to let the game handle its own outliers. It can.

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

tldr: totk goty. Re4makestans can cope. Get autobuilded on idiot

[horoyois]

about grief | riza hawkeye drabble

✦ a little analysis on riza hawkeye's feelings.

—pairing: roy mustang x riza hawkeye

—genre: angst (you can probably tell from the title but mentions of death and grieving, mentions of war, weapons, murder)

—word count: 1,5K

—a/n: i dont even know i cant stop thinking about her and about them and im literally going insane

Grief is a complex concept. It is not only a feeling that can mute the light in any person's eyes, but it also brings experiences that are often so vastly different that it can be difficult to recognize it. Riza reflexes on it, and, even though loss is not a foreign concept whatsoever, she wonders if she has ever grieved. 

First was her mother’s passing. She doesn’t recall much from back then, her memory hazy from the loss of the only source of warmth she ever knew. She remembers the immense sadness and loneliness that surrounded her four-year-old self during her mother’s funeral, knees wet from the dew covering the meadow where her mother rests now and her own tears. It was the saddest experience of her life, even if she doesn’t remember clearly, but she still wonders if she was maybe too young to feel proper grief. 

Sixteen years later she meets loss eye to eye once again, this time her father’s , and she is utterly ashamed to admit that she did not feel a single thing. This memory is much more clear in her mind — the service took place in the same graveyard on a beautiful, sunny day, a mocking weather for a funeral, really. Riza did not shed a single tear, in part because Berthold Hawkeye did not raise her like that. She’s positive that she felt sad, because losing her father also meant losing her childhood home, the Hawkeye State deteriorating to ruins at the same time as the alchemist did. She also felt overwhelmed, since her life started now and she had to decide what she would do from that point onwards. As inappropriate as it may sound, Riza was grateful that the neglect was over, grateful because she was finally free from her own cage. Grateful because Roy Mustang enlightened her path and guided her to her future, so incredibly grateful that she revealed his father’s (and hers) deepest secrets not a day after his passing. The shame came shortly after, but no grief that she could identify. 

With the war came a crashing wave of guilt that accompanied her everywhere she went. Hot, dry summer days made her remember the blazing midday sun that blinded her back in Ishval. Warm colors that reminded her of the dessert made her dizzy.  Every time a child even looked at her, she would feel her knees wobbly, eyes watering, lower lip trembling. The smells of gunpowder and smoke (embedded in her clothing, her hair and her whole being) gave her nausea until she joined Mustang’s unit and not even the lavender and lemon cologne she diligently sprayed every morning around the office could hide the scent of their sins. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t let herself grieve for the lives that she took with her own hands. She didn’t deserve it; she didn’t deserve closure or catharsis or leisure. She deserved to bottle every tear she felt like shedding for those innocent souls that she took looking cowardly through her scope, carry them with her and find them a new home.

It was difficult to not feel appalled for the Elrics and their tragedy. Two children, one mutilated after trying to bring their mother back to life and the other one was nothing but an empty suit of armor. Riza feels her heart breaking every time Edward talks, his eyes fiery like the twelve-year-old he is, but his words sounding incredibly wise for such a tiny body. She feels shaken when she hears Alphonse speak the first couple times, how his sweet voice gets lost inside the iron giant he’s bound to. Winry talks about them as if she feels the same grief, she shares it with them, and Riza is sure that’s exactly the case. The girl’s back is arched, shoulders slumped as if the burden she’s sharing with the two siblings is weighing on her, and Riza admires this little girl for being so brave to let herself feel. She thinks she has a thing or two to learn about her. 

The years after the Elrics tragedy are a whirlwind of problems, and Riza fondly drags the Colonel and her team to give the children a hand every time. Times are difficult, but they are definitely easier than they will be after Maes Hughes’ murder. Riza Hawkeye is familiar with grief. She has seen people (Father, the Elrics, now Gracia and little Elicia in front of her very eyes) grieving; hell, she has even caused grief for hundreds of Ishvalan families. But nothing quite compares to how her heart shatters and rips at the seams when she sees Colonel Roy Mustang crying at the feet of his best friend’s grave. His grief is almost elegant, quiet but warm at the same time — nothing like Father’s silent years, or Edward’s fiery eyes, or Alphonse’s tiny voice. Roy Mustang opens his heart, lets himself be weak and vulnerable, but only when they are alone and they are not Colonel and Lieutenant, but Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye.  Riza selfishly feels her chest tighten with pride when he seeks her comfort and wishes she could bear that weight with him like Winry did with the Elrics. She thinks this is the closest to grief she has ever been.

Grief has always surrounded her. Maybe because it comes hand in hand with the world, with human nature; maybe because her occupation just calls for it, with the wars and the corruption and the hopelessness. Grief has always marked a before and after in the life of those around her and in hers as well, and yet it is not until the very moment she discovers ‌the Colonel has been murdered by the homunculus called Lust that she feels it in her very bones, in every fiber of her being, her every muscle tensing and tightening, especially her heart. It fills her body with an existential dread unknown to her, and she sees nothing but red until she goes through all her guns, no ammunition left, her will to live abandoning her completely. She falls to her knees, and it’s all black and white, and then she understands. 

She understands that grief is a response to loss, and she’s been grieving all her life. Grieving for her mother, for how different her life could've been. Grieving for her father and their lost time, for how his neglect and indifference made her completely stoic about his loss. For the Elrics, children that could’ve had so much more, just like her, but were abandoned by their father, by themselves and by the Truth. Most of all, grieving for the lives she took during the War of Extermination, for her guilt and because she will never forgive herself. For the children, for the injustice and the corruption. For Roy Mustang, the Hero of Ishval, and for giving him the power to create hell on earth. 

And she realizes that because she recognizes this feeling,  this anguish from all those times, but now is being multiplied by a million and how is this going to be anything but grief when she’s about to abandon herself, her life because she refuses to live in a world without Roy Mustang? It is unthinkable that this is not grief, that she’s not mourning right now, with her cheeks stinging from her own tears sliding on her open cuts, throat raw from screaming and knees buckling until she’s kneeling on the floor. Alphonse is panicking at her ninety degree shift, and he begs her to run away, to save herself, but she has no will to live anymore. She can’t deal with this feeling for the rest of her life, and she knows she is going to grieve for him for as long as she’s breathing, so she’d rather stop it now. 

And then she hears his deep, strained voice, and the world slows down just enough so she can collect and put her pieces back together. She takes a glimpse of him before Alphonse transmutes a wall between them and the Colonel, and she discerns the same relief in his eyes that she feels in her chest. They’re engulfed in the flames that the Colonel directs to Lust, and she doesn’t remember any other moment in her life where she appreciated their beauty and might. 

After what feels like hours, Lust finally vanishes into ashes and Mustang collapses onto the floor. Riza does not know if she has the strength to be his Lieutenant right now, so she drops her usual mask and lets the tears flood her eyes while running by his side. He looks at her and mumbles that he’s happy she’s safe, making her retort that he should worry about himself. She knows what she sees in his eyes because most likely he can see it in hers as well, but neither of them will comment on it. 

After that day, Riza wonders if grief will keep following her everywhere like a curse. She wonders if there’s a limit to it; if the feeling ever disappears, fades, or is just buried in memories and can surface and bring all the despair back. She concludes that there's more grief to come, such is their destiny, and she feels like it awaits her at every corner. Since that day, Lieutenant Hawkeye opened a door to her biggest fear, and it weighs heavy on her back; heavier than her guilt, than her secrets and her dreams and future. Grief is a shadow in every human's life, and understanding it just makes it darker. 

© horoyois - all rights reserved. reposting/translating/modifying is not allowed.

[wejustwanttogohome]

A Bad Plan pt2 (Eddie Munson x Wheeler!Reader)

❖ PAIRING: eddie munson x wheeler!male reader

❖ SUMMARY: you turned back from the upside down hoping to find something te help the others to save the world, but Vecna got you.

PART 2 HAS BEEN POSTED!

❖ WARNING: blood.

❖ NOTES: the protagonist has a name, yess!! It's Nico, hoping you dont mind :(( ❖ PART ONE: H E R E !!

( ˘ ³˘)❤ enjoy !!

【 Once in the car I no longer listened to anything except the rain slowly pouring out on the roof. I often cancel myself in those situations, my mind becomes a completely black and clean board, without a shred of thought. It was decided that sneaking into the Byers house would be the best idea for the simple reason that my best friend's mom would certainly have what it takes to disinfect that bloodstain without having to go to the hospital and alarm too many people.

It all went by so fast, as if you were observing another person's life from the screen, as if you had left a piece beyond the mirror. As soon as we arrived I was rescued immediately but I answered Joyce's questions flatly and I hoped that such a radical change in my person would not be noticed. A sense of fear was wandering in my head, I tried to relive those short minutes that I spent on the other side and I constantly asked to myself if it was real what I actually saw, remembering second by second how I was trying to save my life. And to get an idea of ​​what had currently happened, it was easy to remember the instant which I crushed that black bird that came out of the dinosaur encyclopedia between my fingers while it screeched. And then, the recall. I hoped I had dreamed it, it was a distant melody but… what if it appeared there for me? Had I heard right? No because if that thing was there for me guys, it was over huh. I was finished, I didn't hope to survive even two days knowing my skills well.

"Nico? …" "Will, pass me the roll and I'll finish blindfolding it."

He did exactly as he was told and then quickly figured out what happened. As I said earlier, I did not have the courage to say how things had really gone and I admitted the great bullshit I had laid out without adding any other fundamental detail to say the least.

To tell the truth I recovered pretty quickly, the scratch wasn't as bad as I thought and Will stayed with me most of the time until I was able to fall asleep on the couch. The body collapsed without even worrying that I would soon be restless sleep and… actually, it didn't. Or at least, I got up with a start and sweating, but I didn't remember anything scary I'd ever dreamed of. Indeed, the only frightening thing was the stickiness that my hands had become, still encrusted with the blood of the monster that attacked me. I absolutely had to take a shower. Will was asleep but I knew the house so well by now that it sure didn't bother him if I used the bathroom. I washed quietly taking care of the wound and tried to uproot that dirty long hair that continued to be a hindrance in my story - soon I would have cut them although I would probably lose my friendship with Munson. I wondered what I was waiting for to do it, maybe it was a constant unconscious fear of losing him. I let the water flow along the damaged and flayed skin, it was as if I had run among the brambles, I wondered … I wondered where I really went from to be so battered. The wounds burned a little, but I was able to relax immediately and stop tightening my muscles. I massaged my neck, shoulders and closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again and suspecting that the atmosphere had changed. Incredibly, I finished taking a shower and remained impassive in front of the transformation of the place which from clean became an abandoned den. Better to say perhaps that I found myself on the other side, because the color of the wallpaper was unmistakable. I knew perfectly well what was happening.

"Fuck… are you serious? Couldn't you have waited for me to change?"

I whispered, knowing it was actually all in my head. Maybe it was better not to raise the voice too much, I didn't want others to wake up. I didn't want to create any more problems, of course. But the room had been replaced by another and in the mirror reflection of the sink presented the terrifying sight of Chrissy decomposed trying to get out of the curtains, covered and chained by roots. They got you, baby. It's not your fault, I'm so sorry.

Now you will ask me if I was frightened, if I was not disturbed by the sight of the swollen and almost melted body in the rubble of that bathroom. Yes, I could even breathe the taste of that terrible smell. My eyes burned from the intensity of that result but I walked towards the door as if nothing had happened, reminding me that I was still present at the Byers home. My clothes weren't where I left them, though. Defeated, I sat in what must have been my best friend's chest and waited with my eyes closed for that moment to pass, hoping that no one would find me in that pitiful state. I noticed only after the clock at the end of the corridor watching me, waiting for its prey to be discouraged enough to let myself be caught. He rang a second and the next, by a miracle, I came out free.

I… I did not pay attention to what it could really mean, that hallucination was as sudden as the return to Earth. I thought my time had come, maybe it was too soon, maybe… maybe I was paranoid, at the time I did not understand that Vecna ​​was spying on me thus creating a time gap and to be clearer, he was even unaware of what happened when he wanted to observe me. For a few minutes I stood there, admitting to myself how relieved I was to have returned to them and struggled to get up. But I forced myself to get dressed quickly, reach out to the others for fear that it could happen again at a time when I was completely alone.

Going down the stairs, I noticed the figure of Will wandering silently around the room and he had probably even called me a couple of times, I had heard a faint whisper from the other side. "I took a shower, I'm here now." "Did… did something happen?" "Mhw… no, why?" "Your hands are shaking." He seemed more restless than me, but I actually had to restrain that unconditional movement and hid my fingers under my armpits before sitting next to him. I denied, with the confession between my lips that was trying to escape. With him I could talk about everything, I could tell him anything or not, he would have understood it anyway. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes for a long moment remembering where I was. In these moments you feel the need to feel real, to see and touch as much as possible to keep yourself at all costs clinging to the only certainty. "I took your clothes." "I see, they look a bit big for you though." "I was taller than you a few years ago." I smiled and he pushed me away laughing, but only for a moment before recovering. "Yes, I remember that. Also, when we were playing at the chasing game, you were the first to find me in the woods… you have always been so smart, I had no respite!! There was no possibility of hiding. "

Nancy and Jonathan were in the kitchen, what did they prepare at that late hour? Frozen pizza? Robin, on the other hand, slept peacefully on the sofa in front of us and I wondered if Mom had come home. What time was it? Two in the morning? I thought back to how I'd left Eddie in his van, but I was comfortable knowing he was in Harrington's company.

"Smart? Nah… "

I made a face, I played with my own fingers and the elastic on my wrist. Will's closeness calmed me, he always had this tone so sweet and understanding that it made me clear in my head. I couldn't ask for a better friend in my childhood, although I suspect that I was never that much to him.

“I don't think so, it was... intuition I guess. I was never brilliant, not even when I was playing D&D, you know? And now… and now he's got me. "

Silence, only the ticking of the broken kitchen sink. Nancy laughed trying not to make too much noise, I was glad she was reconnecting with Johnny, they deserve it. Looking up at the half-open door of the kitchen - at the moment it illuminated the rest of the corridor and so, a slice of light even reached the room - I felt the eyes of my best friend settle on my face. I returned the look, he had his lips parted before waking up and bringing his feet back to the ground.

"S-sorry … I didn't get it right." "I have it, Will."

For a moment my voice breaks and I end up staring at the ceiling, defeated after just realizing what I said. I swallow and cross the fear in his eyes again.

"No."

A heavy gasp comes out of his throat, perhaps a moan as well. He rests his back on the pillow behind him, keep looking for the joke in my eyes but I don't say anything for a while.

"Do the others know?" "In reality…" "When are you going to tell him?" "…I don't think I'll tell anyone." 】

[enderpearlgirl1005]

Autonetics Connection

Chapter 1

"I remember old tales my grandmother had told me, tales about how earth used to be a world of peace. That was until aliens we call the Reptilian Reapers arrived out of nowhere. No one had known where they came from or why they had come, but we knew one thing, they almost wiped out the entire human race," A female voice recalled.

"We thought we'd be done for, that was until "they" arrived. Mechanical bots that called themselves Tecncars, they were what saved us, however they needed a human to pilot them so they could stand a fighting chance. They called this an Autonetic Connection and those who formed one were connected to their Tecncars for life. To me it was like they had become siblings, and I've always dreamed of having one of my own one day. Thanks to them we survived and the human race could live on, however every few years or so more Reapers would come, much more dangerous than the last. My father was one of the many brave soldiers who had made a connection with the Tecncars, but had lost his life in battle. Now I want to carry on his legacy and become one of the grates, to fight for my planet... to fight for our feature, I'm Nebula Eravina," Nebula declared as she finished recalling the story.

Nebula looked at the screen pad that used to belong to her dad recalling the tale of how this all began. It has been around fifty years since the Reapers first arrived on earth and she couldn't believe that so much has happened. "Don't worry dad, I'll make you proud," Nebula promised as she turned the screen off and looked out of the window she was sitting next to.

Right now she was in one of earth's many training centers where the new generation would train for battle and bound with Tecncars for when the next wave of Reapers would arrive. Nebula worked there as a mechanic who helped out with repairs on the machines there. However it wasn't what she wanted to do as her true dream was to be a flier like her dad. Flyers was the destination given to those who formed a bond with Tecncars, and that was her dream.

"Hey Nebula! I need you at ground base! A flier just came back from patrol with his Tecncars and the bot's in need of repairs!" A voice called out to her. "Coming Zim! I just need a moment!" Nebula responded, slightly annoyed.

She looked out the window again and watched as the Tecncars started coming back with their flyers. Watching them gave her hope that it could be her one day arriving back with her own Tecncars just like the current flyers. Nebula sighed as she got up and went down to begin helping with repairs. She walked up to the elevator, stepped on it, scanned her card, selected the down button, and finally the elevator lift took her down. Once she reached the ground floor she saw the Tecncars and their flyers settling down after a long patrol.

"Hehe, never gets old doesn't it kid?" A voice asked. Nebula looked and saw one of her coworkers/friend standing next to her with a smirk on his face.

"Yeah Terry it does not... wish that could be me though," Nebula said while looking down sadly.

"Hey so what, you flunked the flier exam, you'll pass the next time you take it! I'm sure of it! You've been working your but off for the past several years in order to pass it!" Terry exclaimed, trying to cheer her up.

"I know! But falling it meant I had to start all over again from scratch! And mom isn't making things any easier for me with how much she's been nagging me to drop the whole flier thing!" Nebula exclaimed as she got off the elevator and grabbed a nearby tool box.

"You can't blame her though, she's just looking out for you as losing your dad made things hard on her," Terry explained as he followed Nebula with his own tool box in hand.

"I'm aware, but she doesn't need to baby me! I just want to be like my dad! I want to be a flier and defend earth from the Reapers! Is that so much to ask for?!" Nebula asked in a slightly angry tone.

"No but it is a risky job, after all we dont know when the next wave of reapers will come or what they'll bring. So with the whole unknown thing, we're not sure who will come back from battle and who won't," Terry explained.

"Ugh!... let's just get this work over with so I can go home!" Nebula stated, now being so upset that she just wants to go home.

Terry sighed as he knew that when she got like this, Nebula would be pretty tough to deal with. So the two immediately got to work on repairing the Tecncars who were damaged during the patrol. Thankfully the damage wasn't too bad and was just an easy fix with a wrench and some oil drips. The Tecncars who didn't need any repairs were just given a slight polish by Terry, Nebula and their other coworkers, then put into their recharge stations.

After a few hours of hard work all the Tecncars were fully repaired and operational. Nebula looked up at a few of them and despite seeing them countless times throughout her whole life, it still felt unreal to her. Herself and her other human acquaintances were so small compared to them and yet they all had to work together.

"Some day... someday I'll be up there with my own Tecncars, fighting Reapers and protecting earth!" Nebula promised herself with determination burning in her heart.

"Haha! Yeah right loser!" A snarky voice called out.

When the voice and comment reached her ears Nebula let out a long and angry groan. She turned around and saw one of her tormentors in the academy who wore the orange and red color suit of a trainee. "Hello Milo what do you want?" Nebula asked, irritated that he was already bothering her.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to let you know that when I become a flier, I want my Tecncars to be so smooth and shiny, I can eat off of it and see my reflection!" Milo commanded.

"... Really? Ugh! You do know this job is incredibly dangerous right?" Nebula asked.

"Um yeah! But I'll be able to take down Reapers like it's nothing!" Milo declared in a cocky manner.

"Oh I'm so sure you will," Nebula commented sarcastically.

"Why thank you Neb's and I know you'll do all the repairs of my Tecncars after I heroically save millions of lives from a Reaper in battle!" Milo declared in the same cocky tone.

"I'm gonna laugh my butt off when you run away screaming like the true coward you are once you're face to face with a real Reaper!" Nebula exclaimed angrily before storming off. Nebula growled and kicked a discarded bucket as she left the training center full of annoyance and anger.

"Ugh! He's so annoying! And he doesn't realize that this job isn't about fame or glory! It's actually life threatening and dangerous! After all, many had lost their lives in the line of battle so it takes a large amount of bravery and guts to actually be a flier!" Nebula shouted before she kicked a rock.

"Did Milo give you a hard time again?" Nebula heard someone ask. She turned around and stood stiff when her eyes laid on the person as he was a very important figure in the training center.

"AH! General Raven the first! Engineer and soon to be trannie again, Nebula reporting for duty!" Nebula exclaimed, calming down and saluting to Raven.

"Ahaha! Kid you don't need to be so formal with me, just call me Rave, you know you can," Rave explained.

"B-But I cant sir! You're a legend! Y-You were only a teenager when you fought in the first battle with the Reapers! You started this whole training center! Y-You're the reason any of this is even possible!" Nebula explained.

"I know I know, but I'm still a person and you don't need to be so formal with me all the time kiddo," Rave explained.

"I-I'm sorry, b-but you and the other greats are the reason I'm working so hard to become a flier!" Nebula exclaimed.

"Hehe, I know after all your father was one of them," Rave said as he looked up at one of the many statues of flyers and Tecncars who died in battle. Nebula looked back and saw that the statue Rave was looking at was that of her dad.

"Your father was a great man, he was brave, strong, and just like you," Rave said as he walked up to Nebula, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

"... I miss him so much," Nebula said as she felt a pain in her heart.

"I know you do kid, he wasn't just a flier, but a father, and that was the best part of him," Rave stated.

"I remember how he and his Tecncars took me out for flights and told me tales about their battles with the Reapers... speaking of which, has there been any news about the next wave of new Reapers?" Nebula asked.

"Nothing so far, but don't let your guard down kid, for all we know they could be planning their next attack, so if you find or see anything that could alert us of their next attack," Rave instructed.

"Alright, I will do sir!" Nebula declared before she went to her scooter. She pulled it out of its holder and drove home.

Rave smiled as he watched the kid drive off with, she was just like her father. She had his attitude, his thought process, his eyes, everything he had. All of that combined she could one day be a fantastic fighter in the battlefield, of course she first had to become a trainee and pass all the tests. However Rave had hope that Nebula could become a strong, brave flier just like her father. Meanwhile Nebula looked out to the sky as she drove on her scooter, the sun was almost fully set so the sky was currently bathed in orange, purple, and mostly black. It was quite enchanting to see as it just brought an almost harmonious atmosphere to her.

"No matter how many times I've seen something as incredible as the Tecncars or watched the sun setting, I always feel the same way. I just feel so relaxed with the sky and motivated by the Tecncars, it keeps me going somehow," Nebula said out loud to herself as she drove on the road.

After about an hour and a half she soon arrived at a fence that was connected to a dirt path. Nebula slowed her scooter down enough so she could turn onto the dirt road. She drove down the long path that had apple trees on the left side while the right side had strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and many other berry bushes growing. Five or more minutes of driving later, Nebula soon came across a house that was painted white with some flowers growing near the doors and front porch. Nebula could see an old swing set with a slide and swings resting peacefully on the left side of her house.

The swings only move slightly because of the light breeze blowing thru. At the back of the house was the back porch as well as the animal farm where the pigs, cows, sheep, and chickens were all kept. Nebula's family has owned a farm/rancher, where they would sell the produce from the crops, and whatever they could get from the animals on the farm. The farm allowed them to make a good amount of money and live a very cozy life.

However this wasn't the life Nebula wanted despite her mothers persistence on joining the family business she continued her pursuit to become a flier. Nebula stopped her scooter and got off the set, she then started pushing it to the garage for storage. When Nebula got to the garage she saw a large blue van parked inside sitting right next to her mom's white Ford Explorer. Nebula groaned as she knew who the van belonged to, as it was her mom's current boyfriend Ivan.

She didn't really like Ivan all that much, not because he was a bad person but because she didn't want him to take her fathers place in the family. Even though it's been around ten or eleven years since his death Nebula wasn't ready to move on.

"Oh great, I wonder how long this guy is gonna be here for?" Nebula asked sarcastically as she put her scooter where it belonged. Once making sure her scooter was secured, Nebula placed her helmet on a hanger on the wall and went inside the house through the garage doors.

When she entered the house the smell of chicken soup entered her nostrils. Nebula's mouth started salivating when she smelled the soup, her hunger and desire for the food zapped away all her frustrations. Nebula made her way to the kitchen and when she arrived she saw her grandmother cooking, her aunt and uncle baking sweets, her younger cousins playing tic tac toe, and her mom, and Ivan sitting at the table chatting.

"Hey everyone I'm home!" Nebula called out. Her family looked over to her and everyone gave her a warm smile and waved to her.

Ivan smiled, got up and walked up to her, he then opened his arms hoping for a hug from Nebula. However Nebula backed up with her arms crossed across her chest, Ivan frowned as he understood she didn't want to hug him. So he just offered a handshake and that was something she gave to him. After shaking his hand Nebula walked up to her mom and sat down next to her.

"Hey Neb's you should be a little nicer to Ivan," her mom said.

"Mom! You know I don't want to move on from dad!" Nebula explained, slightly annoyed.

"I know you don't, I miss him too, but you know that he would've wanted us to be happy," her mom explained.

"But that doesn't mean I want this guy to take his place! I just miss him so much and you know how close we were!" Nebula exclaimed.

"I know that but no one ever said that Ivan will replace your dad! I just fell in love again and Ivan knows about your dad and what happened to him," Her mom argued.

Nebula just rolled her eyes and didn't argue any further as she didnt want to discuss the matter any further. Ivan sat back down on the other side of Nebula's mom and tried to continue on with the conversation they were having previously. Nebula didn't pay much attention to it and just pulled out her screen phone, put some earbuds on and started playing some music. After some time, dinner was ready so Nebula's grandmother served a bowl of soup to everyone. Nebula smiled down to her bowl and began eating up the warm chicken flavored goodness, with some carrots and celery cooked right into the soup. After sometime Nebula and almost everyone else was finished with their soup. Now her aunt and uncle brought out a fruit pie with some of the berries they grew in the field.

"Hey Nebs, do you want any dessert?" Her aunt asked.

"No thanks, I'm full but thanks for asking," Nebula said as she was about to get up, but was stopped when her mom gently grabbed her arm.

"Wait Nebula! I want to talk to you about something," Her mom said.

"Mom if this is another attempt to talk me out of being a flier and joining the family business then again it's no! I want to become a flier and not be a part of the family farm! It's not me! It won't be me! And it cant be me ever!" Nebula exclaimed, slightly annoyed with her mothers constant attempts to make her stop training to become a flyer.

"Honey I know you want to become a flier like your dad, but I don't want to lose you like him! I just want you to be safe, and while you say that being a farmer isn't you, it could be your thing. Also it's not what I wanted to talk to you about," Her mom explained.

"First of all, I did try last summer and I was so bored mom! And second, what did you want to talk to me about?" Nebula asked.

"Well, me and Ivan had talked and we want to tell you all that, we're getting Married!" Her mom declared as she showed her hand that had a new ring on her finger.

"WHAT! YOU AND IVAN ARE WHAT?!" Nebula asked in shock as the whole family smiled and congratulated them.

"Nebs I know it's shocking to you, but I hope that you'll understand. Ivan is a good man and he's not trying to replace your father," Her mom explained, trying to reassure her daughter.

"No! Mom! Why?! Why remarry! I-I don't want a new dad! I never wanted a new dad!" Nebula screamed as her shock and slight fury clouded her thinking.

"Nebula! I know you don't want a new father but I know that he would've wanted you and me to be happy! So I'm sure he'd understand if I want to remarry someone," Nebula's mom tried reassuring her daughter.

"Yeah cous! Uncle would want Auntie Mollie to be happy!" Nebula's younger female cousin exclaimed.

"Yeah! He would, and he would've wanted you to be happy as well!" Her younger male cousin pointed out.

"I know that! But I don't what to replace him in my life! And Mom! If you and dad wanted me to be happy you would stop trying to convince me to be a flier and encourage me to continue on training!" Nebula explained.

"I just want you to be safe! You're my only child and I can't have any other children because of health problems. It was also hard enough to deal with the loss of your father so the idea of losing you as well! I-I just can't stop thinking about it! I'm worried that one day when the next wave of Reapers come and you're fighting you could die just like him!" Her mom explained.

"Mom! I know that but... but I want to be just like him! And I don't want Ivan here to be my dad in any way shape or form! He's not my father and he won't be my father ever! I-I just can't accept that! I loved dad too much and he was the only father I ever had! He was just too important to me and the idea you're remarrying! I-It just feels like you're trying to replace him!" Nebula exclaimed letting everyone know how she's feeling.

"Nebula, I-I," Ivan stuttered before Nebula stopped him with her own words.

"I'm going to my room! No one bothers me please! I-I just need to be alone!" Nebula explained before she stormed off to her room. The room fell dead silent as everyone heard Nebula's footsteps upstairs before the creek of her room's door opening and slamming shut.

"Huh... that went well,'' her uncle commented.

"Sam not now please," Mollie asked her brother.

"Why was cousin Neb so angry?" Nebula's younger female cousin asked.

"She's just dealing with lots of emotions right now. When it comes to grief it makes your emotions all kinds of confusing. It doesn't help that she's still very upset and angry over failing her test five years ago," Nebula's grandmother explained.

"Mom, you don't think she... hates me do you?" Mollie asked.

"No dear, I don't believe she does, like I said Nebula is just dealing with a large amount of emotions right now. Just give her time and we can all try to talk this over when she's had the time to cool down," the grandma explained.

Mollie nodded and hoped that she and Nebula could talk later, she loved her daughter so much and didn't want to lose her in any way shape or form.

Meanwhile Nebula had actually snuck you out of the house from the window of her room, which wasn't too hard as her room wasn't too far from the ground. After leaving the house Nebula went to the nearby woods to go for a walk as she just wanted to be completely alone. Nebula looked up at the night sky, now partially covered by the branches of the tall trees. As she walked she thought over the conversation she had with her family regarding her mom and Ivans engagement.

"Maybe I was too harsh with my words? But sometimes when mom tries to talk me out of becoming a Flier it feels like she doesn't understand me, let alone cares about what I want. And I do get the farm is a family business, but it's just not me! So I don't understand why she can't just stop trying so hard and just support me!" Nebula exclaimed as she stomped and kicked a rock.

"Ugh... oh dad I wish you were here, you'd be able to help me out and help mom understand better," Nebula said as she clutched onto a locket necklace she was given by her father.

She looked down to the lock, and opened it up to see the picture of herself and her father. Nebula frowned as she was only around five or six years old in the photo. Just before her next birthday the next wave Reapers came by which was the wave that took her father from them. This shook her up but she also didn't let the experience stop her from working to become a Flier.

Nebula was so zoned out in her thoughts she didn't even notice that she had walked to the nearby lake that was within walking distance from her house. Nebula looked up and saw the lake past some of the trees and bushes, the lake was far enough away that the farm couldn't be seen.

"Oh I didn't mean to walk this far out! But I should probably go back home before mom notices that I left," Nebula said to herself and was about to turn and head back when she heard something.

It sounded like an adult male voice that said "When will the next batch of Reapers come?"

Curious Nebula quietly inches to where she heard the voice coming from. When she saw what it was she was horrified by what she saw the source was. It was a Reaper, but unlike the ones that were huge and walked around like insects with their multiple legs. This one was standing on two legs and was much smaller than the reapers but still taller than a human. This one looked like they were as tall as the Slenderman, which Nebula found to be both creepy and odd. However, she stopped looking at what it looked like and swiftly took out her phone to record the conversation it was having.

"Alright, but hurry up already! I want to see them in action soon! We must strike soon before the Tecncars get any sort of upgrade!" The Reaper demanded before ending the call.

Nebula shook in fear, and her heart started beating against her rips like a professional boxer. However, she kept herself together, so the strange human like Reaper wouldn't see her. She then saw two other humans emerging out from the darkness and walking up to the Reaper. She first thought they would attack the Reaper, but when the two humans got close enough to the Reaper they took off a device from their chests that Nebula failed to notice. Once the device was removed Nebula saw something that made her heart beat faster. The two humans then turned into reapers that looked similar to the other one, but the two both had different colors to their scales.

"Well any info about the humans and the Tecncars?" The first Reaper asked.

"Yes we've recorded everything you need to know sir," one of the two Reapers answered then handed the first one something, but Nebula couldn't see what.

The third Reaper then looked in the direction Nebula was in and she froze on the spot and didn't move a muscle. She prayed to god like never before in her life asking him to please not allow any of them to see her. Unfortunately fate was against her and the Reaper that looked in her direction pulled out an alien gun and pulled the trigger.

Next thing Nebula knew was that her phone was broken and she fell back slightly holding her right arm. She looked down and was horrified to see some stinger logged right into her arm and a green pus like mass was leaking out of her injury.

"Sir! A human is there! Don't worry I shot her and that poison will kill her in a matter of time!" The Reaper that shot her called out.

"Get her before she gets away!" The first Reaper commanded.

When Nebula heard her fight or flight response, she got up and bolted away from them in a random direction. Nebula ran as fast as she could to get away from them, however she could hear the thunderous footsteps of the Reapers behind her. This influenced her to run faster to get away, of course Nebula didn't go to her house as the last thing she wanted was for the Reapers to follow her home and kill her family.

The Reapers ran as fast as they could after her trying to shoot another one of those stingers at her. Thankfully because the trees they couldn't hit her and Nebula did managed to get some distance away from them. However she still could hear them shouting at her, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.

After running for sometime, Nebula came across a small hole in the ground that looked big enough for her to crawl and hide in. So she quickly dove into the hole, as soon as Nebula jumped in she realized that it was a lot deeper than it looked. She fell about three or so feet and crashed into some bushes and leaves that grow down there. Nebula groaned in slight pain but once she heard the Reapers footsteps she pressed her hand tightly over her mouth so they couldn't hear her.

The Reapers' footsteps soon reached the hole Nebula was in, but they had soon passed and were soon out of earshot. Once Nebula assumed that the coast was clear she let out a breath of relief before she finally felt the extreme pain in her right arm. Now that the adriennale of fight or flight had worn off, the pain was now making itself known by stinging her like a large sharp knife. Nebula looked down to her arm and was horrified to see that it had now turned green, purple and black from the stinger out to the rest of her arm.

"Oh Crap! I gotta find a way to stop this!" Nebula exclaimed as she got up and looked for a way out. As she looked around and walked Nebula saw that the place was huge and there were strange aliens like tech and writing everywhere.

"Wow, what is this place? And how long has it been here for?" Nebula asked as she looked around.

The place was so big compared to her and it was just so unreal that for a moment she thought that the poison was making her hallucinate. After a while Nebula came across a door that was partially open so she walked up to it and pushed it the rest of the way. When she opened it up completely she saw that the room was some kind of lab as old computers where on the walls and on the opposite side of the room Nebula saw a strange liquid inside a pod.

"Wow what is that stuff?" Nebula asked as she walked up to the pod that contained the liquid.

Now very close to the pod Nebula placed her injured arm on a single arm rest as she decided to pull out the stinger that was logged into it. When she saw the stinger clearly she finally was able to see that it was a Reaper stinger. This made her heart stop as Reapers stingers contained a deadly poison that was able to kill the victim in less than three hours.

"OH No! I-I gotta do something before!-!" Nebula was saying before she felt something on her arm.

She looked and saw a clamp coming up instantly. The clamp restrained her arm, and pulled it into a hole that was next to rest. "W-What the hell?!" Nebula asked, surprised and scared.

She tried to pull her arm out but it was futile as the device had a firm grasp on her arm. Next thing Nebula knew she felt a sharp pain in arm as something else was stabbed into it and the stinger was harshly yanked out of her arm. A bright blue light then emitted from the hole her arm was stuck in, she felt something happening that thankfully didn't cause her pain. The light went out after a moment and now Nebula was able to pull it out from the hole. Now free Nebula looked at her arm and was shocked to see that it was now covered by a purple, blue, and green sleeve.

"W-What's this?!" Nebula asked, freaked out by the sudden appearance of the sleeve.

A bright light instantly emitted from the pod, Nebula looked up and saw for a brief moment the stinger of what looked like blood being deposited into the pod. She closed her eyes as the light was overwhelming for her eyes. It lasted for a few moments till it died down and Nebula was able to look at the pod without the risk of going blind.

Looking up at the pod there didn't seem to be a change, but the liquid began to drain out. As it emptied Nebula was able to see something in the pod; what was inside looked to be a Tecncars but much smaller. Once the pod was completely empty steam was released from it as it opened up letting the strange Tencars go. Nebula cautiously backed away, not sure if the Tecncars were friendly or would attack her.

The Tecncars opened her eyes, looked around the place she was in, then looked down to Nebula. She tilted her heat slightly and climbed out of the pod, stumbling slightly. Nebula backed up a bit more, feeling afraid of this new Tecncars and what she would do.

The sleeve then emitted a green and blue glow, the Tecncars then shot up her head, before looking down at Nebula. She instantly and strangely felt confused but it wasn't her own feelings, instead it came from the Tecncars.

"W-What the?! H-How did I feel what you felt?... Nori?" Nebula asked, but she realized something else that was strange.

"H-How do I know your name?!" Nebula asked, more confused.

"Nebula?" Nori asked as she crouched down to Nebula's height.

The two stared at each other for a bit, not sure what to think or do, Nori slowly showed Nebula her hand. Despite being confused and slightly scared, Nebula raised her own hand to Nori's and placed her palm right onto the others. The two had no clue what was happening but they somehow knew and felt that they were safe with each other as they felt connected.

[sava-smth]

I was thinking lately if I'm autistic and i was taking quizzes and they usually fucking STUPID and so heres some questions i have things to say about

I have trouble understanding what do YOU mean by this question who tf wrote this?

How about you ask others?? I have no friends, I don't know!

It fucking depends! What party it is what museum it is! Although, at a museum i can just plug in headphones ... but not always!! It depends!!!

What doy you mean by very strong interests though,,,, you are fucking unhelpful

I did have to consciously make myself to shut up and let the other person to take their turn though but is it counts? Bitches be so specific

So here's the thing: when I'm reading, I don't think. Also, when I'm reading, characters intentions are usually written out.

ASK THEM OK??? How tf would i know! is repeating a joke to a person who told it to me in a first plae couts

And then quiz page reloaded and i lost all answers and fuck this shit i feel like I'm gaslighting myself

_________________________________

So, thoughts: I don't remember shit and I don't notice shit and I can't tell how am i perceived from the outside and nobody tells me bc I literally don't have friends bc if I dont text first they don't text me back and we stop talking very pathetic beside the point

I was thinking I might be neurodivergent since i came across neurodivergent community on the internet bc there was a lot of things i was relating to such as:

- object permanence including people closest to me

- i walk around my room with headphones and music imagining made up stories

- trex hands and i saw a tictoc abt walking with straight hands and yeah i walk wit no hand movements a lot if the time and maybe walking on tiptoes? I don't remember this one from childhood though, I don't remember how/why i started to do this either

- in school teacher was constantly calling me rude (although maybe she was just like this)

- headphones thing. I always wear them. Amd whenever i go on a walk i prefer to go alone (but also nobody ever asked me out too much)

- picking my skin on hands and feets, chewing on lips and inner side of cheek

- idk with eye contact my step father said i look at him with no thought when he was breathing me but maybe it was an insult like idk also i watch person in one eye only but also I don't see much -2 no glasses

- i was kinda quiet as a child and i enjoyed to do things on my own and i had a game where i pretended to be a crane and it was me walking weirdly in a circle and i also remember once i was walking woth my mom and making repetative noise? ?? and i remember it felt good? but them mom told me to stop and i lost this feeling i honestly don't remember ever again doing that

Whatever else i had a thought but i lost it

I thought i might've had adhd bc of object permanence thing but I don't think i ever had hyperfixation then I thought it might be autism but i dont recall any meltdowns/shutdowns/other things people on spectrum describe either but also was this thing where i was in the moment thinking "NOW I'm going to do SOMETHING and uh make drama?" and people around me were describing it as me trying to do things like a character on tv like that time i tried to kill myself?? But also my parents are kind of shitheads at that and even though they are medics they are very fucking dismissive of my concerns abt mental health issues i may have like "yeah depression is valid but YOU don't have it"

And maybe I'm just depressed or what is more likely have an anxiety disorder or both or something else but i need to know what the actual FUCK is wrong with me maybe just to know

But I'm so fucking anxious to make an appointment to get diagnosed bc i feel i will be gaslighted by professionals in a same way i am gaslighted by my family and general anxiety that doesn't let me to make any appointment ever

I feel like i will only be able to go for diagnosis if i know what I'm talking about and sure in it 100% and THS FUCKING QUIZ IS NOT HELPING WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID WHO WROTE THIS BULLSHIT!!!

Venting tee hee )

[burnedbyshoto]

i wonder

i wonder (if you remember the way we looked at each other)

— Living as roommates with your best friend is easy until someone fucks up and catches feelings.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut fem!reader, and they were roommates, childhood friends!au, university!au, quirkless!au, modern!au, americanized university experience, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, the plot is for the sex AHA, womanizer!shouto, shouto and reader are bad roommates but seiji is worse, shouto has sex at 16 for the first time, vouyerism-ish, iffy shouto tendencies, jealous!shouto, jealous!reader, drunk sex so dubcon depending on you, nipplegasms, reader has nipple piercings, blowjob, switching, marking, biting, scratching, praise kink, missing tag ;)

word count: 20,141

a/n: this is for the roommates bnharem collab! please check out all the other amazing fics and art! note to self, dont get drunk the night before this is due and I hope you guys enjoy this!!! I had a lot of fun writing it!!! also,,, sorry if mobile doesn’t correctly format!

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You cracked your eyes open.

The gentle white stream of light permeated through soft cotton curtains, lighting the room in pale stripes and careful touches. Dust particles danced within the shining light, bending and twirling with the flowing air and moving winds. You breathed in deeply, your body still tired, your head still foggy from a night of distractions and too many drinks. 

Your eyes are closed once again, your still hazy mind trying to ignore the bitter, rank taste of the alcohol and cum on your tongue and your hands scratching as your naked cleavage. There was still enough time in the day; it was Sunday after—

Wait.

CUM?!

Your eyes flew open, your lips smacking each other as you confirm the awful, salty taste of cum on your tongue. Your hands swiping up and down your front to confirm your state of undress. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, your palms immediately sweating as you try to think about just who the fuck you ended up back in bed with.

Think, y/n, think!

A small grunt came from behind you, and you felt your entire body go rigid immediately. The soft expel of air fanning against your sticky neck is both welcomed and untrusted. With what can only be described as you, as stiff as a stick, peering behind your shoulder similar to a mother who definitely heard her child throw up on her bed but is somehow praying that she was hearing shit, you turned around.

A messy bedhead of red and white greeted you: unfocused, sleepy grey, and brilliant blue eyes staring back at you with fond familiarity and welcome.

“‘Morning, y/n,” Todoroki Shouto grumbles, voice husky, scratchy, deeply warm from his slumber. His next words are damning, though, the slight pride and knowing implications in the small breathe he uttered next. “Had fun last night?”

There was silence, a stroke of hesitancy, then crushing all-consuming fear.

You screamed.

At the top of your lungs.

O N E  W E E K  A N D  A  D A Y  E A R L I E R

“Who the fuck touched my fucking Angry Orchard Rosés?!” a voice snapped from the kitchen; the tone was fed up, seconds from blasting to smithereens.

You were in the living room, a pair of sweats on, your hair not put together, your face still bare. The music you played as part of your pregame ritual was practically vibrating the wooden floor as you sang along to your music. The telling glass bottle of deliciously pink alcohol swinging inconspicuously between your fingers as you drank it between verses. Despite your other roommate (who you repeatedly told your friends to be ‘like Bakugou but a gazillion times worse because you don’t and can’t like him,’) being seconds from trying to start another feud or possibly a lawsuit against you, your mouth dropped in mock shock before guzzling down the rest of the drink.

“I saw that you fucking skank!” Shishikura Seiji screeched from the kitchen; his stomps were long and heavy as he made his way from the kitchen to the living room where you were. “There were two bottles left in there! Don’t tell me your alcoholic ass drank them both! So help me, I’ll press on your damn chest until you’re puking out my drink.”

“Shishikura, stop,” Shouto spoke up, his own arm raising as he took a long, slow drink from the other missing rosé bottle. “These are 2% alcohol, you’ve had them in the fridge for months now, and you never drink them anyways.”

You grinned as you pulled the glass bottle from your lip, your face failing at the fake look of surprise, guilt, and sorrow for your unwanted and unneeded roommate.

“Sorry, they’re such girly drinks. I figured I’d take them off your hands,” you speak with distractingly bright amusement. “Alcoholics like me, we don’t care. Watch out; I might go for your mouth wash if you’re not too careful.”

“You do that, and I’ll poison you like a damn bitch,” Shishikura threatened, his voice in a menacing growl.

“Ooooo, you want me to bark for you, Shishikura? Want me on my hands and knees?” you taunt back, walking backward until you’re collapsing onto the couch besides Shouto. Your arm quickly sneaks between his, and you lay your head on his shoulder. Shishikura’s face is flushed red, his pupils beady as he trembles with concealed rage.

“She’s quite good at it,” Shouto chimes in, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk as he takes another drink of the weak liquor. He shifts on the couch, allowing you to curl more comfortably at his side; the both of you know just how much your incredibly prude roommate hates any sort of PDA. “Want to hear her bark? She’s also quite good with her tongue.”

As if to emphasize Shouto’s point, you stuck out your tongue, refusing to break eye contact with Shishikura as the tip of your tongue breached the opening of the bottle.

“The actual fuck is wrong with the both of you?!” Shishikura spluttered, his face somehow turning purple and green and red. A truly incredible sight to be had. “‘Childhood friends are great roommates to have’ my fucking ass, you both are monstrosities!”

Shishikura stormed out of the living room, his ears neon red as his purple hair fell to cover his face. As soon as he was out of sight, you turned to Shouto, your tongue removing itself from the bottle and back into your mouth as you began to laugh loudly.

Childhood friends to roommates, ah, what a remarkable story you had with Todoroki Shouto.

It was accurate to relay that you had known Shouto for more than seventeen years now at your current age of twenty-one. Seventeen years of being what is easily seen as the best of friends, the closest companions, and indeed a bond that would withstand time and situation. 

The two of you met during the first week of what was preschool. Although both of you could not remember a single instance of events during this time, your mothers had always been excited to relay this story to you for many years that you could remember. It was odd to try to remember it, but even as they painted a picture of your first interaction, you could do nothing but admit that it sounded exactly like how it could have gone. 

You couldn’t remember being four years old; you don’t recall what it was like to strain your neck to look up at your parents or how it felt to be so utterly dependent but to scream brazenly about your childish independence. Your mother smiles when she retells the story of your first interaction, of how you were holding her hand as she walked you to the building where your preschool was to be had. 

Your hand was so small in hers. Tightly clutching onto her fingers as you looked around at the other children who were also arriving or had already arrived. Some children were bawling by their parents, others aimlessly playing with toys, and some were attempting to talk to one another, but by the apparent looks of curiosity surrounding the babbling and rambling tangents that could only be understood by a firing toddler brain, everyone was getting along. 

A teacher greeted you kindly, squatting down to reach your eye level as they excitedly introduced themselves and asked for your name. You, of course, with your hands clutching the skirts of your mother’s dress, responded with hesitant confidence.

“You’re such a brave girl!” the teacher awed happily, stretching out a hand for you. “Is it okay if I take you from your mom and show you which cubby is yours?”

There was a moment of confusion, then clear understanding hovering over your little head. Your mom looked down with an encouraging smile and pushed you forward.

“Do I get a middle cubby? I don’t want a top one,” you admit, your hand stretching out to grab the teacher’s stretched-out hand. 

Your mother watched on happily as you removed your schoolbag and lunchpail and placed them neatly within the somehow middle cubby marked with your name. The teacher also helped you put on your white school slippers before gesturing towards the bright, colorful room, their mouth moving as if explaining every little detail before pointing at the corner. Your mother tilted her head, curious as she followed the teachers point to the corner of the room where a boy with exceptional red and white hair — split perfectly in the middle — sat quietly, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

(Shouto, although he can not remember this day himself, will argue with you and only you that he was, in fact, NOT crying.)

Trying to not allow the shock of the unnatural hair color affect her, your mother watched as you nodded to your new teacher and walked over with clenched fist confidence to the small boy.

She watched as you approached him, your jaw moving as you so obviously spoke, hopefully introducing yourself. The boy looked up at you with bright, wet eyes but seemed to speak right back to you. 

“Alright, parents! Thank you all for dropping off your children! Do not worry. We will take great care of them all, and they are in competent hands! First days are hard for everyone, so if you can exit quietly, I, and the rest of us teachers, would appreciate that greatly!”

Or at least that’s what Rei claimed the teacher said.  However, your mother was watching on with increasing exponential horror as she watched you throw a punch at the air before twisting around and pointing right at her and saying with a voice that was much too loud.

“Punch whoever made you cry, Shouto-chan! My mama says that it is okay to punch bullies!”

Thankfully no one but your mother heard you, and even though she scolded you on the way out, whisper yelling that you “better not punch anyone!” her relief was for naught.

When she would return in the afternoon, a bit late because there had been a hold up on the train, you were pouting sitting on the floor with a scuffled uniform, your arms crossed definitely. Next to you was the boy with red and white hair, equally scuffed next to a white-haired woman and an older white-haired boy.

“Oh my god, what happened?!” she shrieked, racing over to you.

“Y/l/n-san,” the teacher spoke with a tone that indicated disappointment with the subtle undertone of amusement. “Y/n-chan has something to tell you.”

Your mother had taught you many things, she will admit, in your very short life. But sass and annoyment was something not often seen in your household or in you, and to see it so blatantly on your chubby-cheeked face was quickly giving your mother greys.

“Shouto-chan told me that his stupid bully brother Touya was being a meanie, and so I helped him punch him back!” you said with tears in your eyes because you didn’t want to back down from your actions, but you also did not like being scolded. “I don’t regret it!”

“Y/n!”

“Y/n-chan!”

“I don’t either,” Shouto-chan grumbled as your mother collapsed to her knees and began to profusely apologize for you to the woman who was undoubtedly Shouto’s mother. “Touya-nii was making fun of my hair again… y/n-chan helped me, though. Please don’t scold her!”

To say the most in the shortest amount of time, you were, in fact, scolded despite Shouto’s begging. Touya stopped making fun of Shouto’s natural hair. Rei accepted your mother’s apology. The teachers were given two bottles of sake.

And, of course, the most important, the most paramount thing to arise from this first day of school was that your and Todoroki Shouto’s friendship was now bound by blood, sweat, and tears.

Preschool became elementary school, which became middle school, and fading into highschool.

It was without saying that your relationship, your friendship with Todoroki Shouto, was probably one of the biggest, most defining parts of your entire life. He was there when your first tooth fell out, when he dropped ice cubes down people’s shirts, you two had bathed together when you were young, had sleepovers well past the age where him being a boy and you being a girl should have made things weird. You laughed when his voice cracked and dropped, he elbowed your chest plenty when you began growing boobs, you taunted his lack of body hair, he bought you your favorite ice cream and heating packs on your first period. You attended cram school together, went to the park and beaches on days off from school. You were partners in every school activity except under specific circumstances. He had listened to you when you told him excitedly about your first kiss when you turned fourteen, and you laughed when he said at the age of fifteen that he had still yet to kiss anyone.

Everyone always claimed, always asked, wondered, and whispered if the two of you were dating. Childhood friends still this close and not dating? Unheard of; practically illegal! Nevertheless, you ignored the disappointed frowns or the hopeful grins as you and Shouto both denied any sort of romantic connection.

Soon the both of you were in high school, and Shouto was mere days from turning sixteen. Much like when the both of you were when you were four years old, you seemed to be the one spouting many words — sometimes unnecessary words that wound you both up in trouble — of wisdom. You were loud when you needed, talking most of the time only to him and your surprisingly large group of friends. (You weren’t that surprised. Everyone wanted to be friends with the handsome, could easily be royalty or a model, Todoroki Shouto.) Shouto remained, for better or worse, quiet, reserved, and a bit awkward. He was a sweet boy, don’t get it wrong, and you would protect him until the end of your days, but the boy was a complete airhead and relied on you for interpreting social interactions.

“Camie-senpai wants me to go over to her house after my birthday,” Shouto explains, his hands exchanging his school shoes for his outdoor ones. “Something about wanting to do that one second-year first-year student project thing for the third years right away.”

“You have Camie?” you ask, slumping against the metal lockers with a slight thud. “Lucky, she’s so nice… I have stupid Agoyamato. Have you had a conversation with him? It’s actually the worst! He thinks he’s all that!”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay; you’re nice enough that he won’t be like… that,” Shouto smiles, slinging his bag on his shoulders before nudging his head towards the exit. “Ready?”

“Am I ever ready?” you ask with a whine but nevertheless proceed onward.

Time passed, and between cram school, actual school, some clubs, eventually January 11th passed and you held an ice cream cake that Shouto loved. You ate the cake together, relaxing as you sat in the warmth of his kitchen.

“Happy birthday, Shoucchan, never change!” you chirp, shoving his arm that rose to place the piece of cake in his mouth with your shoulder and watched as the sweet pastry splattered on top of the table. “...um?”

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”

“Only ten?! What about the happy birthday boy.”

“Oh, true. Three seconds to run.”

“Why?!”

“It’s my birthday.”

An hour later, when your stomach hurt from laughing too much and the sickly sweet weight of too much ice cream cake, you lay snuggled into Shouto’s side as the both of you watched some old movie.

“Thanks for always being here for me,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy as the heat of Shouto’s body began to lull you to sleep.

“I’m always here for you,” Shouto softly responded, hand gliding up and down the curve of your spine. “We should get you home. Your mom yelled and nearly skinned us both the last time you fell asleep here.”

“Only cuz she’s scared that we’ll have some sudden revelation we like each other and fuck each other’s brains out,” you groaned, absolutely not content with having to move. With your face buried in your hands now, you missed the weird pattern in Shouto’s chest over that.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“...fine, just because it’s your birthday.”

The next day, when Shouto followed Camie home instead of you, there was something that made you feel off as you waved at them goodbye. It wasn’t jealousy, that much you knew, but something worse when you watched the way your never-been-kissed-before best friend was ignorant to the dark eyes Camie sent his way.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure if you should be as surprised as you are when you get a phone call at ten p.m. to the sound of a confused, suppressed, overwhelmed voice of your best friend asking if you could confirm if Camie had fucked him. You then stayed on the phone for Shouto until well past two a.m., your heart hurting as he recounted the memory over and over again. You weren’t sure as to why your heart was breaking. By the sounds of it, Shouto had actually enjoyed it, but with every stammer to his voice, you felt lightyears away.

Most shockingly, however, was the effects this had on Shouto and his overall persona.

From ages four until fifteen, Todoroki Shouto was someone who was quiet, observant, took things a bit too literally, at all times was entirely precious in the way he interacted with people, and most importantly, unaware of the female population who lusted after him. It worked well for you because it was fun to tease him about things, nag him about how he was sixteen, and hadn’t been kissed even though if he asked any girl at school to kiss him, they definitely would. 

But sixteen-year-old Todoroki Shouto was a new shift, a new paradigm for you to learn. It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident before, but now he emitted a sense of confidence that he was aware of, that everyone was aware of. He became mature, sophisticated, styled even. He was still at times quiet, always completely observant. He rarely took things literally and understood rhetoric and sarcasm and hyperboles. Long gone were the days of preciousness, and instead, there was a sense of a predator on the hunt that bled in the way that he talked to people. Most importantly, however, he was fully aware of the female population and precisely who was lusting after him.

He flirted with women and girls. You would find him leaning against the lockers talking with them, somehow trapping them despite not actually trapping them. A new girl was sitting at your table with him practically every week in high school, each girl asking for the hundredth millionth time that the both of you were not dating. Some girls were even bold enough to apologize to you for stealing your best friend — as if you wanted Shouto.

You had already seen his dick, thank you very much (although the last time you saw it was well before you were nine years old), you weren’t missing out on how it probably looked now! Honestly, you had no idea how Shouto never managed to run out of female students to fuck, the school wasn’t that large, and he seemed to go through a few a week sometimes.

But he was your best friend, your childhood friend, and no matter how many girls came crawling back to your lunch table, bawling to Shouto to take him back, soaking the fabric of your skirt to help convince him to take her back, you stayed. You stayed, accepting the fact that your best friend had become an awkward teenage boy and turned into some high school sex freak.

You stayed when his shaggy hairstyle was clipped and became short.

Overnight, just as he went from being a complete virgin to not one, he went from a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy to a leanly built eighteen-year-old hot-ass heartthrob womanizer.

High school wasn’t forever. Even though it took you about a year to accept and integrate Shouto’s new sex life and behavior into your daily lifestyle with him (he always left four of the three days open for you as all his relationships were casual only). Soon enough, the both of you relaxed and found your own relationship to be entirely the same, and when university exams and applications came about, it was decided that yet again, the both of you would follow each other anywhere.

Which is where you were now.

Tokyo University,  a third-year student, living in an upscale three-person apartment with your best friend, of course. Shouto plus someone who practically begged in the most unbegging way to live with you.

Todoroki Shouto and Shishikura Seiji in the same apartment as you made for an interesting combination.

You hadn’t wanted Shishikura Seiji as a roommate at all. Period. 

There were about eleven other people you only considered asking, but they all said no for their own reasons. Bakugou and Midoriya had found their own apartment closer to the University, and for much cheaper, Kirishima and Mina were RA’s and could not move in. Kaminari said he liked Sero’s couch too much to leave, and Sero couldn’t live in an apartment without a balcony. Momo said the room was too small, Jirou said she’d rather continue living with Momo, Uraraka said it was a tad bit too much for her to afford (to be fair, you didn’t have to pay because the Todoroki’s were paying for your housing, but you understood), Tsuyu and Hagakure said they were living at home. Iida said he would be too uncomfortable living with a couple.

Everyone you found on the street wouldn’t accept your offer. Hence, Shouto invited the meatball and rosé obsessed Shishikura Seiji to live with the two of you simply because he was Shouto’s lab partner in one of his advanced physics classes. Stupid chemical engineering nerd.

At twenty-one years, you can now say that you’ve entirely adjusted to Shouto’s womanizer ways. Too often do you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of tea in your hand as you drink it in slowly, watching with much amusement as either a no-name girl leaves or a walk of shame Shouto enters. It happens at most five times a week; you were used to it. While the unease had finally left, you had to admit you were impressed your best friend could easily sleep around as he did and maintain his outstanding grades.

However, just because you were finally used to Shouto’s womanizer tendencies didn’t mean the world was. Even in University, your fellow students would ask with wide eyes and behind flat palms if the two of you were dating — specifically if Shouto was cheating on you or if it was an open relationship. You would each and every time, smile cheekily, shake your head and say with a roll of your eyes: “No, we’re not dating. He’s not cheating, and no, this is nothing more than us being best friends. Sho is too much of a jealous person to allow for an open relationship.”

Somehow, the constant begging of approval and the erasure of any romantic connection between you and Shouto from the plethora of female students at Tokyo University wasn’t even the most annoying part of it all. No, not at all.

What really ground your nerves was a pattern you noticed when you were eighteen.

Unlike Shouto, you hadn’t had the chance to lose your virginity until you were eighteen. Most of the boys who liked you always assumed you and Shouto were dating, the ones who gathered the courage to ask you out anyways were boys you were less than impressed with. By some act of some higher god, your crush — the school's third-year baseball team's captain when you were a first-year — reappeared in your life and asked you out. It wasn’t your best decision, you can fully admit it, but he was friendly and sweet as he fucked you in his small bed.

You hadn’t expected sex to be like that, and if you had enjoyed this, you couldn’t help but wonder just how Shouto was in bed to have girls behaving like that.

However, the spell was broken when he helped you change back into your clothes, and he begged you not to tell Shouto he was the person you cheated on him with.

It was on this day that it clicked.

What went for him, unfortunately, went for you too.

Except where girls rose to the challenge to dethrone you from Shouto’s side (a shame because they were vying for a seat that you had no claim over), the boys lowered their head like some damn omega to Shouto’s alpha.

Disgusting.

Even with the plentiful, plethora, consistent denial of your relationship with Shouto, even with the tally of girls, Shouto’s bedded (and more excitedly, deflowered — ugh!) rose consistently, no one ever really believed you weren’t dating him! Too many a time, you had been centimeters from making out with a guy for them to pull away, screeching that they couldn’t allow you to betray Shouto. The men who didn’t care were sleezebags, and thus, with a growl and a snarl, you found that you were only able to fuck men who thought jackhammering their fingers into your labia — yes, your labia — would make you cum.

You didn’t want to say you hated your childhood best friend for such duplicitous, selfish reasons… but you did.

But today was Saturday, a few months into the new second semester of the school year, and with school spirit once again high and workload low. The entire campus was brimming with parties, celebrations, alcohol drinking competition, sleazy dancing, and enough sexual tension to kill all celibate people.

So, we look back to where we started.

Shishikura Seiji running away as you nestled back against Shouto’s chest.

“I didn’t think he was actually going to drink these things,” Shouto sighed, spinning the last few remaining drinks of his rosé in his hand. “It’s been in the fridge for almost five months.”

“He probably made his meatballs again and needed something terrible to blame the flavor on,” you half joke half say in complete seriousness. You were not fond of Shishikura at all, and he was not fond of you either. He had a tendency to mansplain everything, which continuously ground on your nerves, especially when he had no jurisdiction to act so confidently.

He was a physics major, not a goddamn god.

Fuck off.

“I feel sorta bad,” Shouto sighs, his hand low and warm on your waist. “But I will admit, these drinks are practically like carbonated water.”

“2% alcohol,” you stress, your grin widening as you pull away from his chest to stare at him. Your gaze is bright, and his eyes are filled with amusement. “You’re either the world's lightest lightweight or a child with no tolerance to actually expect to get drunk off this shit.”

“I think you’re slurring your words already though, you sure you’re okay, lightweight?” Shouto teases, his soft smirk teasing.

“Who was the one who took three shots and passed out?” you wonder innocently, finger to your chin as if you were trying to remember.

“At least I don’t throw up when I crossfade.”

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT. MY BIOLOGY JUST HAPPENS TO WORKS THAT WAY!”

“Alright, bitch,” Shouto snorts, completely unattractively, “hurry up and get ready, yeah? We have a party we’re already late to, and we have no drinks for an actual pregame.”

You squeal excitedly, having forgotten the massive party that was being held a few blocks away. “I’ll be ready in ten!”

Typically, when you went out partying, you went with the group of eleven people you would have rather replaced Shishikura as a roommate. To get ready for said parties, you would always find yourself at Momo’s place with an outfit change, makeup bag, and hair styling items. You had made it a tradition with the other girls to get ready together. The only exceptions to which this wouldn’t happen was when someone had a work event or some family thing come up.

In your case, you had been stuck at a professor's office, diligently helping to put together their research journal as they were in their final steps of publishing their findings. Due to your friendly relationship with your professor, the time had been lost, and your ten p.m. call time to arrive at Momo’s had been missed with a quick:

↳ held up at work! go on without me, sorry! see you at the party!!!!

When you crashed through the front door of your apartment, you froze, seeing Shouto in the hallway by the mirror. Sometime between getting his haircut to be shorter and from this day, he had begun to style his hair by threading it back by his fingers, and boy, it looked fucking good. He was already dressed up for the party. Black joggers, a white t-shirt that was a bit too small if the tight, seductive way it clung to his muscles spoke of anything, and a hoodie he had no care about in case he lost it after taking it off once getting there. Shouto was practically immune to all weather types, he could be in both snow or fire without a single worry, but he knew that a large sweatshirt that smelled like him was enough to hook and line any truly desperate female.

Shouto had chuckled, taking in your frazzled state with years of practice and nudged toward the fridge, already knowing that you had missed your pregaming with the girls.

“Shishikura has two rosés left. Grab ‘em, and we can pregame together.”

But that was all unimportant and already said.

In the end, it took you thirty minutes to get ready.

You had practically smeared on your makeup, hoping the warm, crazy miscoloring would be hidden within the crazy light show the party would definitely be displaying. Your outfit consisted of a tank top that exposed your cleavage and a skirt that hugged your legs and ass just right.

You came stumbling out of your room, fingers trying to shove on your earrings, the rings on your fingers clicking loudly against each other. You smiled breathily, gratefully accepting Shouto’s sweater as you slipped on your comfortable heels at the doorway before hurrying out.

Shouto kept an arm around your shoulder the entire way out, the immense heat of his body keeping you warm as his sweater rested lazily, awkwardly, around your shoulders and arms. You didn’t want to put it entirely on to save your makeup, and in case anyone had any fucking thing to say about the show you and Shouto were putting on. Eventually, the bright and comical conversation between you and Shouto began to grow louder as the pounding of dance music began to ring in your ears. Soon enough, you passed a few drunk people, more and more, until you reached the house where the party was.

Shoving the sweatshirt into Shouto’s chest, you grinned as the smell of alcohol, weed, over-cologne men and women, the faint smell of puke, and the gross crawl of BO flooded your nose.

Ah yes, nothing like a university party.

Shouto laughs at your evident piqued excitement, and after he pulls on the light blue sweatshirt, he grabs your hand, and into the overcrowded home you go.

The intense heat of overcrowded bodies on a dance floor that also makes up a drinking game floor makes you grateful for your choice of clothes. Everyone around you is already drunk, sloshed, intoxicated off their ass as unknown drinks spill from their red Solo cups, sometimes even raining down on you. You grimace as Shouto continues to pull you through. You can taste the Hennesy on your upper lip and somehow know that whoever was drinking it was a freshman with a vendetta to kill his liver and love for drinking before coming of legal age.

“What do you want to drink?” Shouto yells over the nearly obnoxiously loud music. He has his sight on the drinks counter. “Mixed or the juice?”

“Fuck me up with the jungle juice!” you yell right back, pressing to his side as two dancing (see, vigorously dry-humping) nearly trample on top of you. “Parties are meant to be a non-sober event. I need to be borderline blacked out five hours ago!”

The agreeing chuckle from Shouto isn’t heard by you at all, but you can feel his chest give a familiar vibration as finally, he pulls you from the sea of bodies to where the floor is especially wet and sticky. You’ve reached the bar area.

Grabbing your own red Solo Cup, you watch as Shouto makes his own drink. Heavy on the alcohol, light on the mixer, and a good handful of ice (he’s always liked the cold better). His hand reaches for your cup and you offer your cup up as he opens up an ice chest filled with neon-colored jungle juice.

When the drink is returned to you, the both of you cheers and take a long drink.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N-CHAN!”

“You’re finally here, you fucking slut! Getcha fat ass over here now!”

Your neck is twisted to see the absolutely plastered group of girls you considered to be your closest friends, and you laugh loudly.

“Seems like I’m needed,” you yell at Shouto, trying your best to act nonchalantly as he smiles knowingly at you. “Text me about what you decide to do if we don’t see each other?”

“Of course,” he simply responds before placing the curve of his cup back onto his lip as hands grabbed your arms and whisked you away.

In a matter of sixty minutes, you all had played five drinking games.

The girls felt it was imperative to get you to their level right away, so they started off with a game of King’s Cup. Not only was the deck rigged against you — you pulled all four of the four cards and thus had to chug four times — but you had drawn the last King and drank some weird concoction of jungle juice, a tequila shot, a vodka shot, and whatever the fucking hell Mina was drinking. How you managed to chug that and stay on your feet was beyond you, but it was without saying that you had utterly and inevitably caught up with the girls.

After the King's Cup came the Flip Cup game, your team won thankfully due to Mina’s one flip wonder as Kaminari struggled to down the shot in the cup.

After Flip Cup came Smoke or Fire, a game that had Tsuyu stuck on the bus for a record-breaking one round. No one could believe she did that.

Then came a round of Shot Roulette to end with what you were currently doing now, using a drinking card game Momo had made in her spare time to do embarrassing things at random.

Five games in an hour… you questioned if there was by any chance illegal substances in the jungle juice because it had felt like a whopping two minutes.

“It’s midnight!” Hagakure hollered, stumbling backward as she grinned in drunken, stupid happiness. She giggled before singing, “Midnight… memoriessss~!”

Mina groaned at the reference but completely perked up as the dance music changed suddenly from its slightly mellow, good vibe song to none other than Everytime We Touch by Cascada. By tradition, by applicable law by all and every god, when this one song played, everyone needed to stop what they were doing and immediately head to the dance floor.

With your hand slightly sticky with alcohol, and your mind absolutely clouded with alcohol, you whooped loudly as Mina dragged you to the dancefloor. 

You, seven girls, formed a closed circle, your Solo cups sloshing over with alcohol, and your faces scrunched tight as you danced and sang as loudly as you could. Each pounding beat of music vibrated in your chest, each offkey note sung by the party-goers making you feel light, happy, dizzy, and oh so perfectly drunk. For just a split moment, you lock eyes with Shouto, who’s across the dance floor, his arms wrapped around some girl you don’t recognize, eyes drinking you in. You smile for a bit before turning back around, arms rocketing up to the air with your excitement.

Although the song ended, the DJ continued to play bangers, and you never once stopped in your mirthful dancing and grinding against your friends as the night continued to carry on. But when you spun out from Mina, your entire world spinning with it, a pair of warm, heavy, large hands rested on your waist, and you laughed.

“Who is this?” you ask, head slamming backward to try and look at the person who had caught you yet hadn’t tried grinding against you. “Oh, Inasa? Hi!”

Yoarashi Inasa was one of your University's well-known jocks. He was a skilled runner, one of the best Japan has ever seen despite his body type telling you he was a bodybuilder. Immediately your smile of idiotic stupor became intentful, seductive, still bordering extreme intoxication. Was Inasa your type? No, not really, but you could reasonably and accurately say that he was a handsome man, with a fantastic body, not to mention a pleasant personality.

You also itched to know what his dick looked like.

This was definitely someone you could see yourself fucking tonight.

“Hi, y/l/n,” Inasa said, his naturally loud voice easily picked up on despite the music being blasted in your ear. “How’s your night going?”

You lick your dry lips, eyes blinking a few times before you turn in his arms, your arms stretching so that you could wrap them around his neck. “Better now that you’re here,” you smile shyly. “How’s yours.”

“Ahem,” Inasa blushes, his eyes staring straight at your cleavage before looking back up at you. “H-Hoping to get better from here! Well, I’m sure it will be.”

“Oh?” you ask, your confidence building faster and faster as you press further against him. “Anything you have in mind?” —you press your thigh suggestively against the semi-hard spot against his jeans. — “Anyway... I can... help?”

Inasa groans deep in his chest, his head knocking backward at your implications, the pleasant vibrations passing on to you. You grin, fingers scraping against the bottom of his buzzcut and bringing him closer, praying for a kiss. But as he returns his head back down, his gaze leaves yours for a split second, and you watch in horror as a sobering look washes over him.

“Actually… you’re here with some random dude, right? I don’t want to step on his toes. I thought I saw you come in with some guy; sorry y/l/n, I can’t do this.”

And just as quickly as he was against you, he was gone.

It took everything in you not to screech bloody murder over the fact that you were once again left horny with no man to take responsibility for it.

Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party With Shouto: 78% Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party Without Shouto: 22%

Walking home alone, cold, and with extreme bitterness towards Yoarashi Inasa was a sadly sobering experience. By the time you collapsed onto your bed, you were only slightly buzzed, boarding sobriety while not being sober exactly.

Fuck men.

Fuck their cowardness over a nonexistent romantic/sexual relationship between you and Shouto.

But also… you really wanted to fuck men right now.

The slicked horniness of the potential thought of bedding Inasa had made its unignorable appearance via your soaked panties. You hated yourself, hated your biological needs and lusts.

“I’ll wring Shouto’s neck in front of all of them next time,” you grumble to yourself. “Stage a fake breakup for an imaginary thing…”

Nestling further into your pillows, your eyes closed, body relaxing against the bed when a peculiar sound seemed to echo in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Your eyes slammed open, your jaw-dropping at the very obvious, entirely embarrassing sound of Shouto having sex on his desk sounded in your room! Of course it sounded in your room. His desk was pressed to your wall because that would mean whenever he was his icky womanizer self, you wouldn’t have to hear anything! Your rooms were soundproof but apparently not movement proof.

The thwack of the wood desk slammed against the wall, and with your ear so close to the wall, you began to hear the shaky, intense breathing of Shouto. The whines, keens, and screams of the girl he was fucking as she begged for more. Sobbing that his cock was too much for her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Your panties soaked even more, and with a brain that somehow retracted back into its state of stupor, your fingers brushed against your swollen, ready clit.

This was wrong, so very, very wrong, you thought, the sounds of pitched whining against the stupidly impressive, steady, consistent fucking.

Your mind was a drunken fever. 

Your eyes closed not all the way, yet blind to the wall before you as your finger danced and teased against your demanding clit.

You whined softly, matching the groaning of Shouto, who banged something other than the desk into the wall.

For a moment, just this once, you wanted to be the one desperately clinging to Shouto’s back, hips snapping and circling in tandem to his, allowing him to drill his cock deep within you. Your back arched, heat reaching your toes, buzzing filling your lips.

“Yes, fuck, right there, Todoroki!” the girl screamed, begged, and prayed. “Oh my god, yes, yes yes, right there, right the— mmph!”

You find your teeth sinking into your fist, trying to keep your pounding, horny induced brain from crying out. You wanted to know what he was doing to her, if he had kissed her silent, shoved his fingers in her mouth. Maybe he had fucked her so good she couldn’t possibly say more.

There is nothing from Shouto you can hear, no noises of praise, nothing except the occasional ragged breath that seems to permeate through the walls and whisper sweetly, teasingly, like a succumbs in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

It increases, in noise, the wall separating your room from his beginning to rattle, shake in his conquest.

Your fingers are wet, entirely slippery with your conquest, your hips thrashing against your touch, clinging to a phantom memory of the last male you had managed to fuck. Then, as your stomach trembles with the orgasm that's mere seconds from blessing you with a release, you hear him—Shouto.

“Fuck.”

It’s not much. If anything, this girl should be so embarrassed she hasn’t been able to elicit a loud response from Shouto, but it’s a verbal gift from heaven above for you. His voice, tight, husky, drenched with a driving lust, whispers to you and only you, wrapping you in this blanket of solitude and need. 

With your back arching from the mattress, your hips leaving the soft surface, and your jaw growing slack, your moan is silent, unheard by no one but the heavens as you cum. Heat floods throughout your entire body, tickling and twirling in you until you can’t do anything but shudder, shaking as you fall back down on your bed, dizzy and completely satisfied. 

You don’t think about it.

Don’t try to unpack just what happened right now because the reality that you had just masturbated to the sound of your childhood best friend fucking some random girl is a bit too much. Even for you.

So you don’t think about it, and soon the thudding of the desk on the wall is nothing but a drumming lullaby, and sleep consumes you.

When you wake up, you don’t remember what you did.

You get up and trudge to the bathroom, your party clothes abandoned completely so that you’re wearing nothing but a large shirt you had stolen from Shouto years ago. You scratch your belly as you walk into the bathroom, eyes caked with your sleep still as you begin brushing your teeth.

As you brush your teeth, you begin to take off last night's makeup — well, whatever remained of it.

Spitting out the last foamy remains of the paste from your mouth, you rinsed your mouth before washing your skin. You looked much more awake now. Slapping your cheeks in an encouraging, ‘im a functional human adult taking part in some random face wash commercial,’ you exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen. 

Shishikura was already in the kitchen, his face expressionless, entirely dead to the world as he scooped some rice into a bowl and topped it off with some eggs.

“Morning,” you yawn, arms stretching over your head as you near closer to your unwanted roommate.

Shishikura sneers at you, but even he was more polite in the morning, sometimes.

“I heard the both of you get back last night,” Shishikura mocked, slamming the lid to his rice cooker with an unimpressed scowl. “You were thirty minutes apart. You know, if you two still want to be partying like a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, do it respectfully.”

Your smile back at him is as fake as he is, and you refuse to move out of the way as he tries to walk back to his room. He growls — gross? — and sidesteps you, grumbling the entire way back to his room as you roll your eyes at his retreating form.

What a child.

You entered the kitchen, fixing up your own things for breakfast.

Kettle brewing hot water for tea, rice cooker on for your own rice (you make enough for Shouto too), and you begin cooking some ham and eggs, readying yourself for a Sunday for going to the library and studying. You hummed to yourself, your phone plugged into the speaker as your music filled the quiet morning air.

You bobbed your head in rhythm with the music, your eyes concentrating on slowly cooking eggs as you poured the hot water from your kettle into the teacup. As you placed your teabag in, you looked up to the sound of a creaking door and grinned wickedly as a girl with light blue hair walked out of the hall you and Shouto’s room were in.

Her dress was rumbled, a few blooming red and purple marks sitting prettily on her collarbone, and her face flushed red as she began to scurry out.

“Bye!” you call out, laughing at the scared eep from the girl and the disgruntled groan from Shouto’s room.

You set down your tea, flipping the eggs in the pan as you heard more shuffling before finally, Shouto made his appearance. He was in nothing but grey sweatpants that sat so low on his waist you could not only see the band of his boxer-briefs, but you were entirely aware of the v-lines, the abs, the pecs, and the small happy trail from his belly button down. You also noted that there was not a single mark on his body, and you wondered if he had ever taken a single mark from a one-night fuck before.

God really cursed you with an objectively attractive best friend, huh.

“Morning, slut,” you sing, noticing with happiness that your rice cooker sang a merry tune, indicating that the rice was done. “Breakfast?”

“Mm,” Shouto grumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he trudged closer to the kitchen, taking a spot on one of the stools. “Depends. Did you make it?”

“...I always make it.”

“I think I like Shishikura’s breakfast better.”

Silence.

You glare at Shouto, and in turn, his lips press to a comfortable, teasing smile.

“Fend for your damn self then.”

Shouto laughed loudly as you began to stubbornly fix yourself a bowl of both your servings. You ate far less than he did, but still enough to fill you until after three pm, so the size of your bowl was hysterical. 

“You’re such a horrible wife-roommate,” Shouto accuses, standing up from the stool and entering the kitchen to try and persuade you otherwise to give him his own food. “And here I thought that you liked cooking for me.”

“Go tell your stupid wife-roommate Shishikura instead,” you cry loudly, the faux sniffles from you stupidly fake as you begin to shovel a mouthful of rice and eggs into your mouth. “I’m shwure you’chll beh happ t’gther!”

“That’s absolutely disgusting, y/l/n,” Shouto accuses, his nose scrunching as he traps you in his arms, mouth trying to intercept the food moving from your bowl and into your mouth. 

With another desire to prove how unsatisfied in your roommate-marriage you were, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue full of uneaten, partially chewed rice.

“Ea’ eh!” you mocked, your grin growing as Shouto’s initial instinct was to whip his head away from you.

But as always, because Shouto enjoyed being incredibly annoying, he went after your tongue, readying to eat the chewed-up food off your very tongue. 

Eventually, you gave Shouto back his part of the breakfast, laughing as the both of you chatted about who was going to repay Shishikura for the used rosés. Neither one of you could decide, and so it was something to be solved later. Noon, however, came and with a nod, you accepted Shouto’s hug goodbye, to which you twisted his nose triumphantly as you waddled out of the front door, clothed in your winter gear, textbooks, and laptop,

It was time to brave the world and get this paper done.

“Mina, I mean… absolutely no offense when I say this, but it still shocks me every time you say you’re a chemistry major. You just seem so…”

“Dumb?”

“Yeah.”

“You gotta be some kind of stupid to willingly take inorganic chem,” Mina laughed, balancing her textbooks on her head as the both of you climbed the stairwell to the library’s study rooms. “That's why I have the dance minor! Best of both worlds!”

“Could never forget about that,” you laughed as the both of you neared the top of the stairwell.

You didn’t mean to notice him. As a matter of fact, most of your failed conquests at parties never amounted to much anger from you, but seeing Inasa from across the way, his face buried in some aerodynamics textbook, anger boiled in you. On the way to meeting with Mina, you had realized your mistake last night and how you wouldn’t have made said mistake if it hadn’t been for Inasa! You could’ve been dicked down, slammed against your bed and wall as the giant of a man fucked you!

“I’ll be right back,” you sneered, eyes narrowing as you passed your textbook to Mina.

With fire following in ever long, powerful stride, you blinked and immediately found yourself before Inasa.

“Hi. Wanna explain what happened last night?”

Inasa reacted as if you had shot him, his knees coming up to hit the table, his body knocking backward, and he tumbled, crashing to the floor as you watched with a gaping mouth.

“Y-Y/L/N!” Inasa shouted, his face going through half a billion emotions before settling in anxiety-filled fear. You watched, horrified yourself, as he swung to his knees, his head crashing to the floor as he began apologizing to you. “GOODMORNING, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!”

“Pipe it down, Inasa!” you hiss, your cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat as you garnered the attention of everyone on the floor. “I’m not going to hurt you! I just wanted to talk!”

“Aha, yes, of course!” Inasa laughs, a full belly laugh. He sits up and you freeze seeing the bloodied cut on his forehead. He stands up, completely unaffected by the gash on his forehead, and uprights his chair before sitting comfortably. “How can I help you?”

“What happened to you last night?” you try again, eyebrow raised, arms crossed definitely and awkwardly because yeah… you were confronting a guy who didn't want to sleep with you. “You were into me and then suddenly wasn’t.”

Inasa laughs more, although nothing you said, implied, or did was even remotely funny.

Irritation runs through your veins.

“Inasa, please,” you sigh in helplessness, your eyes annoyed, pleading, and hopeful that he would be the one to finally give you an actual reason.

“It’s… it’s not you. If that’s what you’re wondering,” Inasa finally sighs. His face turns uncharacteristically solemn as his tongue passes through his lips, his shoulders raising to a shrug. “Typically speaking, you are exactly who and what I want when I endeavor in less than chivalrous but still passionate activities. I wanted you last night, and I will not lie that even as I left, I regretted behaving as I did.”

“Well, you did it, and it sorta really sucked,” you laugh, your mouth taut in a frown as your feelings are genuinely hurt.

You keep being put down, and there’s no reason for it.

Why couldn’t you be as sexually active as you wish you could be?

“...Todoroki has a claim on you,” Inasa spoke slowly, his mouth dipping from a usual smile to a frown. “I know you guys aren’t together, but in a way, you two are.”

“No,” you say with complete certainty, anger burning in your chest, “we’re not.”

“Try telling Todoroki that,” Inasa shrugs, his fingers scratching through his buzz cut. “Listen, I wanted to have intercourse with you last night; I did. I also am aware that Todoroki is a womanizer, but he said you were off-limits for all of us.”

“He said that?” your voice is perfectly calm, not showing the raging fire in you.

“Well, no, he definitely did not,” Inasa sighs, the palm of his hands pressing tightly against his eyes. “He has never said it… but it’s the way he talks about you, how he looks at you. It’s a claim on you, even if it’s not a verbal one, and well, no one wants to defy him.”

Your nostrils flare in your irritation, and you find that you’re stepping into Inasa’s personal space, his eyes going wide as you step between his legs and press your hands on his chest.

“I’ll be going home in about five hours. If you still want to fuck me, wait for me,” you say slowly, trying to make sure he understands. “I don’t care if Sho looks at me the way he does; he is not my boyfriend.”

Inasa gulps, his tan skin sporting a healthy pink flush, “Yes, ma’am.”

Five hours later, you’re walking into your apartment with Inasa behind you, his warm, slightly sweaty hand clasped in yours. You make eye contact with both your roommates, Shishikura, whose eyes are rolling to the depths of his skull, and Shouto, who looks like a wall. You, despite the anger you’re feeling for Shouto, smile prettily, then grin wolfishly as you corral Inasa towards your room. You send your roommates a wink before closing the door with a decisive click.

Much like you assumed the night prior, your drunken hazed, lust-driven, anger-flared thoughts proved to be right. Inasa fucked you against the wall, deep into the mattress, he drilled and fucked you until his dick was wet with your slick, and his leg was trembling with his plentiful unleashed loads. But you weren’t done yet, too many times have you been denied, and even though Inasa was trembling, his voice shaking with desperate pleas to slow down or he would cum too fast, you rode him with powerful, swiveling hips.

Once he left, you felt light again.

Your head light, body glowing as you dressed your bruised, cum slick body in a robe as you trudged to the bathroom. You showered, letting the warm water and sweet-smelling oils drench your body before you eventually exited, your hair in a towel, Shouto’s shirt on your person again.

Waltzing to the living room, you grinned as you collapsed on the couch, every grievance you held when you walked in forgotten at the moment.

“Hello,” you smile, your head falling onto Shouto’s lap who was, at the moment, very interested in his phone. Shishikura was gone, undoubtedly leaving in case he heard something he didn’t want to hear during your little four-hour sexscapade. “I am a leaf flowing through the river right now, if you’re wondering.”

“Don’t need to wonder. You were perfectly loud enough,” Shouto grumbled, his eyes rolling. “Says something that I could, considering the rooms are soundproof.”

“I should hope so! After you, the girls rave that Inasa is the best fuck on campus,” you hum, still on a delirious high as you attempt to reach for your best friend's hand to grasp. But to your shock, Shouto jerks away from your touch, and he stands, letting your head fall roughly on the couch. And just like that, your anger is back. The emotion Inasa had managed to fuck out of you for a bit returned at full force. “Shouto?!”

“What?” he snaps.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“My problem is that you brought someone to fuck at fucking five p.m.,” Shouto explains, his expression like the void, empty, dark, menacing. “We agreed to keep it until past ten.”

Your face screws up as you push up off the couch, “Are you kidding me?! I’ve seen you constantly bring girls to fuck at any and all times of the day! Don’t suddenly bring that shit in when it clearly isn’t an actual rule in this apartment!”

“You were also being obnoxiously loud,” Shouto narrows his eyes at you.

“You are too!”

“When am I ever?”

“I literally listened to you fuck that girl last night against our shared wall!”

“You moved your bed to our shared wall?! When?!”

“Doesn’t matter! I would’ve heard it just fine on the other side!”

“The girl wasn’t even that fucking loud!” 

“You can’t ever remember the names of the girls you fuck! Do you know anything about them ever? Are you even using condoms?!”

“You only ever fuck men with questionable personalities.”

“Gee, I wonder fucking why!”

The two of you were nose to nose, anger flaring and near tangible between the two of you.

“What do you mean?” he grits slowly.

“I’m talking about you mad dogging any male human who so much as looks or thinks of me!” you snap, finger shoving between his pecs. “No one touches me because somehow they respect the way a womanizer looks at me.”

“I’m not looking at you in any special way,” Shouto squints his eyes, completely not having your accusations.

“Even if you don’t, this fucking behavior is pathetic of you!” you say, hands motioning between you two and the room. “I had sex, and you’re acting like some pathetic child! I have been putting up with your sex-craze tendencies since we were sixteen, asshole! Sixteen! If I want to gloat and float about having sex, then I fucking deserve to.”

His nostrils flare, his upper lip curling in a small twitch before he rolls his eyes and walks away.

“That’s right, Todoroki,” you laugh bitterly at his retreating form. “Walk away from a fight because you can never win them.”

It took a bit for the dust to settle, but as soon as it did, you realized in horror that you and Shouto had, for the first time ever, fought.

Being roommates with Shouto was always a fun thing. Having your childhood best friend right at your disposal meant that you could have dinner nights, movie nights, game nights, morning waffles, hikes, and literally anything whenever and wherever you wanted. He was a person to talk to when the days were long, and there was no one else in the world, the person who was there for you through thick and thin. But for two days, he had been locked away in his room, unwilling to look at you, refusing to be anywhere near you.

Your friends had noticed immediately.

The way the both of you hadn’t shown up together, the way you sat at opposite ends of the table, refusing to be trapped in a conversation together. Separate the two of you were, and the world acted as if Earth had dropped out of gravity.

You could care less right now.

You were rightfully mad at him! How dare he act so pettily over you having a sex life when you were expected to blink, turn the other way, and laugh when he would shower after a girl would leave before joining you on the couch to watch a movie. He was in the wrong, not you!

But even if you were unwilling to budge and he was refusing to see things the way they should be, you were now incredibly lonesome. So as you sat with your back on the mattress. Your butt to the wall, and your legs kicking against the wall, you thought of what you could do. With a bitter sigh, you rolled off your bed and scurried out of the apartment. Nothing but your wallet and ID on you so that you could get to the store on the first floor of the complex.

Holding the item in hand, you knocked on a door, your gaze already on the floor, embarrassed that you were going to do what you had to do.

“What?” came the annoyed voice of Shishikura, the door to his room opening as he looked at you unimpressed and very obviously unwelcomed.

“Truce?” you asked, raising the six-pack of Angry Orchard Rosé Cider. 

Shishikura looks at you, at the ciders, then back at you.

“Fine.”

How in the world you’re drunk off of four rosé ciders is beyond you, but you are. You’re in the living room, laughing so hard that your stomach hurts as you’re trying not to snort the liquid from your mouth and out your nose. Shishikura is equally plastered off of one drink, his red a ruby red against his purple hair. He’s leaning against you, his breathing ragged, near asthmatic as he tries to once explain just how Shouto looked like when some girl slapped him across the face yesterday for ghosting her after sex.

“He was so shocked!” Shishikura squeaked out, his voice pitchy and incredibly high as he laughed more and more. “You should have seen it!”

Your feet kicked at the air, your face and lungs burning with a fire you hadn’t felt in so long as your laughter turned silent. You gasped for air, trying to contain yourself but failing hysterically.

“Do you wa’ another meatballsh?” Shishikura suddenly asked, his hands flailing to grab his plate of meat. “I think you want another o’.”

“I wan’ ‘ne!” you cried with a slight slur, tears of joy slipping past your eyes to which you haphazardly scrubbed them off your face. “They’re soooo good! I didn’t think they could be so… be so good!”

You find yourself eating another meatball, drinking it down with the cider and feeling happy again. Shishikura goes still by your side, and you hum in wonder, unfocused eyes trying to find what had caught his attention and falling onto the one man you were mad at currently.

Shouto was standing at the apartment entrance, dressed in ripped black jeans, a tight grey turtleneck sweater, and his backpack slung on his shoulder. It was, without a doubt, a studying-only outfit. You knew and have discussed too many times with Shouto about how he never trusted women to take his turtlenecks off without potentially ruining the fabric.

“Well, someone’s finally home... from a night of beddin mo’ women, huh?” a voice spoke, but you were completely unsure if it was you or Shishikura who said it.

Judging by the way Shouto’s eyes locked on Shishikura and not yours, it seemed it was him who said it.

“No, I was doing something,” Shouto retorted, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack, his eyes shifting between you and Shishikura. “A paper for class.”

“Sure,” you end up speaking up, your voice sounding completely sober. You sit up so that your elbow is resting on Shishikura’s nearest shoulder. You raise the glass bottle to your lips, drinking its content without care, never once breaking eye contact. “What was the paper's name? You going after your TA? Or was it a professor by chance?”

Shouto’s eyebrows furrow, his face completely unimpressed by your comeback, but he remains silent.

“He looks like he’s trying to cosplay that one Young The Rock picture, no way would a dignified professor or TA fuck him!” Shishikura laughed with a loud bark, and all of a sudden, that was all you could see too.

The both of you howled with laughter, laughing and slapping each other as you attempted to drink the last bits of the rosés as Shouto rolled his eyes and walked away.

“This is fun. No wonder why you guys do it to me so often.”

-

As time does, it moves forward.

It seemed as if the entire campus had tuned in to what had transpired between you and Shouto. No one the slightest bit sure as to what happened, but everyone knew something big had happened. There was no more walking together before classes or after classes, no weird Instagram or Snapchat stories of the other, both of you never having to excuse yourself because you had plans with the other. Even though they claimed to not care about other people’s business, the school was suddenly invested in the single speculation that Todoroki Shouto’s and Y/l/n Y/n’s relationship was over.

“Breaking News, it was never a real relationship!” you would scream the first few times you heard it, which only worked to make them whisper louder that you were in further denial.

For the last seventeen years of your life, you had never gone more than two days without talking or seeing your childhood best friend. Those two days happened when Rei had experienced a staggering, hospital-inducing breakdown from stress and had subsequently burned Shouto when you were five years old. The two days were because he spent four days in the hospital. The first two days, he was not allowed visitors as the hospital staff put him under a coma to help his body from entering shock and heal. Of course, the moment he was awakened, you were dragging your mother to his bedside.

That was the only time you hadn’t seen or spoken to Shouto consistently.

But since Sunday evening, you had only seen Shouto once when you were drunk with Shishikura. You had only spoken to him then too.

For the first time in seventeen years, you broke your record of not talking or seeing Shouto.

From two days to five.

It was weird.

You felt almost empty.

So when Mina and Uraraka placed their arms around your shoulders, their eyes dead serious, you knew that they had a distraction for you.

“The deltas are throwing a party,” Uraraka spoke with mystery. “It is on Saturday.”

“It is only right that we go, get our asses so drunk our blood is practically a distillery, and fuck anyone who looks at us a second longer than anyone else,” Mina agrees, her tone wise and knowing as she nods her head.

“Our question to you is:” they spoke together, their voices weirdly, obviously practiced, in synch. “Are you in?”

Your tongue is pressed between your lips, your fingers pressing against the textbook you were using to help support your essay’s thesis, and you roll your eyes.

You grin.

“Obviously.”

And as time promises each and every time, Saturday finally came.

“What is our objective tonight?!” Mina screams over the background music that Jirou is blasting in Momo’s larger-than-life bathroom.

“To fuck bitches and get money!” Hagakure, the only one currently not downing a drink, screams back.

“NO, WRONG!” Mina shakes her head, climbing onto the white marble countertops and pointing at Jirou. “Kyo! Your turn!”

“To beat that prick in the sound booth and prove that I’m—”

“NO! Wrong again! Yaomomo!”

“Um, to make everlasting mem—”

“INCORRECT, YOU GORGEOUS PRINCESS! Tsuyu, don’t fail me, babe!”

“Well, it’s to prove to Todoroki that y/n-chan should be able to fuck any person she wants.”

“A bit lengthy, a bit focused on the wrong parts of it, but YES! Tonight’s operation: get y/n a man — preferably Inasa — who fucks the negativity out of her!”

You laugh loudly, rolling your eyes as you lean in closer to the mirror. You hold a Mike’s Hard in one hand, and in the other is your eyeliner as you paint on your makeup. You’re not really hearing the conversations that the girls are having, your own mind too lost in the music, and the swaying you’ve picked up as the three bottles of Mike’s you’ve had in the past thirty minutes are calming down your still frazzled nerves.

You don’t pull away from your reflection until after you’re done smoothing over your favorite lipstick on your pouty lips. You look over at your reflection and see Mina dancing with an awkwardly stiff Jirou and a delightfully giggling Momo on the bathroom countertops. A smile forms on your face, happiness radiating in your chest, and you grin looking at your friends.

But Shouto still sat in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder why.

Why did it hurt knowing that he was avoiding you as much as you were him?

Why didn’t he just try to corner you?

Why did you care that he didn’t?

He was your best friend in the entire world, since your earliest memories, he’s been there, you reason, your whooping not quite as loud as you watch Jirou awkwardly be sandwich between a grinding Mina and a complacent Momo.

It was his fault you, you further reasoned, smiling widely at Hagakure, who was twirling around you, applying her lipstick as a super crazy never before seen talent of hers. He was the one acting like an idiot over the people you slept with even though you let all the people he slept with slide!

But why did you?

Your brows furrowed slightly, unfurrowing just as quickly as Mina pulled you and Uraraka up onto the countertop with her as Jirou and Momo dropped to the floor.

You fucking were in love with Shouto, damnit! Of course you let the stupid personal things go just to appease him! Your back straightened, your eyes rolling as you began to dance with the Kehlani music thumping in the background, but then you freeze.

You were in love with him.

You loved Shouto.

Not in a friendly, platonic, family way.

In an ‘I would date you if I could and marry you on the prettiest beach in front of the most beautiful sunset’ way.

You found that your body was dancing on autopilot as you began to reassess your thoughts, your actions, your wants with Shouto, desperately trying to disprove this love for him. But no matter what you did, you found that it was true no matter what angle you looked at it.

The bass dropped, and you went stiff, your body standing straight and tall although you felt incredibly, terribly small.

“I love him,” you spoke, although you’re not sure who to. Maybe it was to the laughing gods above you or the crying spirits around you. But the girls heard it for some reason, and they, as they were patiently waiting for these past six, nearly seven days, caught you as you went weak.

Finally, realizing that you were in love with your childhood best friend was not the conclusion you expected from a week's silence from Shouto and you. But as you were currently in a crop top with a mesh shirt underneath and the most ripped jeans you owned, chugging down a neon green and blue nearly toxic alcoholic drink, you realized that being at this party was the right way to conclude this circus of a week.

The rush of the liquid dropping down the beer bong was something you found yourself struggling to keep up with, and you felt some of the liquid pour out of your mouth as you grunt, trailing down your heaving chest, creating an image in your onlookers as you refused to choke or pull away. Swallowing the last bit of the drink, ripping the plastic tube out of your mouth, you threw your hands in the air, Tsuyu, who had held and poured the contents for you, screaming too as she lifted your arm in victory.

You couldn’t really hear the music anymore, much more entranced with the music you were singing on your own, and you were currently holding Mina’s face, touching foreheads with her as you spoke a mantra of your love for her.

“Ashido Mina, you are the baddest bitch in the whole wide world. I love your pink hair and your fat ass, and I would die for you. I love you… so fucking much,” is what you said. How it was actually said and how it was perceived is a whole other story because Mina laughed loudly and allowed you to hug her despite your sticky alcohol body.

Your twenties were the new two’s, it seemed.

“Yo, y/l/n!” a voice yelled, and although you let go of Mina’s face, your arms found a new home around her neck as you turned around.

“Hm?”

Your terrible drunk eyes looked all over before falling on a man wearing a basketball jersey and joggers.

Shindou Yo, one of campus’ manwhores. He had a reputation similar to Shouto, you knew that very well, but you were aware that he was disturbingly creepy. According to many vital witnesses, the man slept with just about anyone willing regardless of gender, so not only did you know what the girls thought of him, experienced with him, there was a wider demographic not even Shouto had entered. Number one thing to be told was the fact that Shindou was into some heavy, dark shit to an extreme, his room reeked of sex, and he himself smelled like booze, weed, and BO. But a strong dick was a strong dick at the end of the day.

“Come play beer pong with me?” he asked, his hands shoved into his pockets as he smiled innocently. “I’ve heard some pretty solid shit about your skills, and I want to see how I add up.”

“I’ll play!” you agree immediately, jumping at the thought of drinking more. “Bu I don’t wa’ beer… ish nashty.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

With your arm still holding onto Mina, you accepted Shindou’s hand and allowed him to drag you off to where he wanted to play the game of beer pong.

The game of beer pong went without a single thing going wrong. You were paired up with Shindou, and Mina had managed to find Kirishima in the crowd before you got to your destination and demanded she have him as a partner and not Monoma.

It was safe to say that you were drunk, disgustingly out of your mind. It was an intense game of Cup Pong, the two different teams equally as bad in the drunken stupor, but finally, the two teams were down to a single cup and Kirishima — who was the only reason why they were winning!!!! — had the last ball. You watched in terrible apprehension, fingers digging into Shinsou’s biceps as Kirishima rose the wet ping pong ball to Mina’s lips and let her blow on it for good luck before bringing it back in and began a few steadying practice throws.

“You know, I’m glad I saw you at this party,” Shindou whispers to you, his head ducking down so that you and only you could hear that.

“Why?” you say a lot louder than you wanted, your heart hammering in fear that you would lose this game.

“Because you’re sexy as fuck,” Shindou spoke, his voice turning deeper, huskier, “and now you’re single.”

You blink, attention stolen from the game as you forgot about the final cup and looked at Shindou with a blank stare and an open mouth.

“What?”

“Cuz you and Todoroki are over,” Shindou explains to you as if you’re a child. “You guys are over, right? That’s all everyone’s talking about, and all us guys are ready to fuck you whenever you’re ready.”

His smirk irritates you, the lust in his eyes angering you as you drop your hold on his arm.

“We weren’t together, and you knew that,” you say, eyes narrowing as the crowd watching the game explodes in raging cheers as Kirishima sinks the ball into the cup. “Why the fuck would Shouto be fucking every girl that walks if we were together? What makes you think I’d be okay with it?”

“You’re a cuck,” Shindou continues on, confidence unaffected. “Oh, are the two of you maybe changing roles now? Does the big guy want me to fuck you in front of him?”

Your fist makes contact with his throat before you can even stop yourself and the cheers quickly turn into gasps.

After apologizing profusely to the party holders, they decided that you could, in fact, stay at the party. Your knuckles throbbed in pain, the alcohol in your system buzzing in you in a way that wasn’t fun or relaxing as you made a simple side-step dance move in the middle of the dance floor. The girls, who had at the beginning of the party, drifted ways, had once more glued themselves at your side on the floor. You weren’t in a dancing mood as you took a drink of what you assumed to be a Moscow mule made by Mina for you to keep you at a high for the rest of the party.

Like hell you would ever let Shouto cuck you!

Let him fuck another woman in front of you?

You would go insane if he ever thought that would be acceptable.

“Down girl, relax!” Mina yelled by your ear. “I thought I was babysitting y/n, not Bakugou Katsuki!”

You startled, realizing that your frown had become a fierce snarl as you danced on the floor.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you feeling good again; let’s enjoy this night!” Mina exclaimed, her hands pushing your drink to your mouth and forcing you to chug the contents of the drink. The red Solo Cup is dropped to the floor as soon as you finish. She grabbed your wrists and began to fluidly move your arms — or as well as she could manage herself because she, too, was drunk.

But with Mina winking and smiling at you, the rest of the girls eventually throw themselves into your linked dance circle, your own negative emotions left and in came joy.

It took about another round of ten songs for the dance circle to be destroyed and to have all of you resuming a rave-like jumping and scream-singing as Jirou finally snuck her way into the DJ booth and succeeded to take over. You spun around at the end of one song, laughing completely out of breath as you clapped your hands together. You often forget that while Jirou only listened to a very specific genre, she was a musical genius who had banger playlists for every occasion.

It seemed frat parties were one of them.

However, the next song had your head tilting backward, your grin spreading even wider as you began to move your hips in slow, distinct movements. Dancing with your hips was something you had learned, something you instilled into your dancing category for as long as you could remember.

The beats were loud, deep, thumping deep in the ground and vibrating with great strength in your chest as you pointed a finger at Mina, who was also dancing similarly to you. Your lips moved as you sang the song quietly, the heat and humidity of the room suddenly pressing onto you like another person. You hummed, flicking the parts of your hair sticking to the nape of your neck off, grateful for the slightly cooler air hitting your sweaty skin.

As you rolled your hips down, your hands fanning yourself, trying to cool down your deliriously warm, alcohol-heated body, you froze for just a bit. A person pressed to your back, your ass pressing against a hot thigh, and a hand resting upon the curve of your thigh, keeping you in place. You might have cared, but the body against yours was a welcomed one. Your hips and ass continuing to move in tandem with the music, deliberate highs and lows, and you worked your way up and down the man's body who met yours with spinning accuracy that made you began to pant, your heart racing because this was hot to you. You raised your arms behind you, clasping onto his neck, keeping him on you.

His hair was soft under your touch, slightly sweaty but threaded and parted between your fingers just too easily. His left hand, which had found a spot on your stomach, was radiating heat, something easily felt due to you only having mesh cloth there.

It was slow.

Sensual.

Somehow familiar.

Absolutely mind-numbing.

His chest broad against your back, muscles strong and tight against you.

He was skilled, practiced. Someone you knew was not going to disappoint you, and as your lust-glazed eyes took in the entirely shocked looks of your friends, you finally turned to look.

Somehow, someway, you weren’t shocked at all to see Shouto’s clouded, dark eyes locking on yours. Your world seems to freeze as something between you and Shouto is so obviously broken between you, forever changing, no longer able to go back. It didn’t matter that this was the first time in almost a week you had seen him, had talked to him, he was there, and you wanted to feel his skin scorching against yours. His touch screamed of his want for you, your recognition of your love for him, and your current lust for him. You were angry, hurt, confused, but you were too drunk to care, too intoxicated on the spell the two of you created on this dance floor.

But even as your world froze, the music continued on.

Grabbing Shouto’s hand, you spun around so that his chest was now pressed against yours, your legs between his. You continued dancing, continued to roll your hips down as you sunk down to the ground as Shouto remained standing, his hand supporting and balancing you as you went down and up. He began to dance with you again, the world seemingly disappearing as the two of you ground and panted heavily in each other's ears.

He pushed forward, and you whined, feeling the blazing swollen heat of his semi-hard cock against your stomach, but you met him there.

Your fingers fisting in his hair as his hands found their way into your back pockets, gripping your ass, and your eyes fluttered shut as his mouth, blazing, intense, and intentful, mashed against yours. You kissed him back immediately, all defenses abandoned to that of your lust, wants, and needs. His mouth was a fire, his kiss a blaze that consumed you, drowned you, made you push for more.

It was a kiss that lasted who knows how long, but by the time you had separated, you could feel the familiar sting to your slowly swelling lips and the song that had ended.

His eyes were a near black, his cheeks flushed, and his arms kept you so close you had to think if you were in the privacy of your home or in public.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice begging, pleading for him.

“I need you,” he responded, his voice equally wishing.

“Take me home,” you speak, lips pressing sloppy, desperate hot kisses to his neck. “Take me home and fuck me.”

“Fuck, yes, okay. Let’s go,” Shouto pants, his hands leaving your ass and grabbing onto one of yours before taking you and dragging you away.

It wouldn’t hit you until much later, but the very first kiss you had ever had with Shouto was in the middle of a dance floor, at a party where the male population had been ready to snatch you up after your relationship with Shouto was so-called over.

You were breathless.

No matter how deep you inhaled, you felt like you weren’t having enough oxygen flooding your veins, filling your lungs. You laugh loudly in the night, uncaring about the strangers you passed looking at you and Shouto, who chuckled and snorted with every giggle you made.

This felt crazy, insane, something serendipitous and not real even in the smallest of bits.

He kissed you.

He wanted you.

He said he needed you.

Wants and needs were different things, but he said need.

He needed you.

Just you.

Your feet ached from the running, but you could only focus on Shouto, your mind filling and swimming in the memory of his body pressed to you. The way his lips ghosted over your neck, and the way he danced against you — with you. The four-block walk back to your apartment seemed too far, and your eyes locked on a nearing alleyway.

With much more strength than you should have, you shoved Shouto into the alleyway, your mouth immediately pressing onto his.

Shouto groaned into your mouth, letting you drink his noises as you pulled him close, consuming him in a messy clash of teeth, spit, and tongue. You whined back, your legs slotting between his thigh and grinding down on the hard muscle. It alleviated the growing, scorching heat in your panties but also intensified it, making you want for more and more and more.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Shouto groaned in your mouth, shifting and guiding your rolling hips his thigh better, more fluid, more intense.

Your eyes barely cracked open, your mouth no longer kissing him put pressing against his in an open mouth pant. Your drunken breath saying nothing but implying the world.

Something Shouto was more than keen on giving you.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered for you to hear, so reverent, so holy. And so that you, the center of his world, the only thing he saw and believed in, knew how passionately, how ardently he believed in you, his mouth slid down your neck, and his teeth sunk in your flesh. He claimed you, praised you, making you a part of him.

“I’m still so mad at you!” you moan, voice pitched, whiny, and deliriously high. “I love you, asshole. I love you, and you sleep around! I love you, and I don’t care if you sleep around, but you care that I sleep around?!”

“I love you too,” Shouto mumbles against your neck, his teeth continuing to press into your skin that seems to explode with heat at the revelation. “I love, and I’m an idiot; I’m so sorry.”

And then he does something with his tongue against your neck, the soft of swipes, the wet tickling heat making your head slam back against the brick wall, and a mangled, strangled moan of unadulterated want emits from you.

“We'll talk about this in the morning,” you pant, fingers fisting in his shirt. “We can fix this, but right now, shut up and fuck me.”

“Y/n—”

“I’m horny,” you interrupt, hips sharply jutting into his leg. “You made me horny. Take responsibility.”

His eyes flashed dark, his nostrils flaring, and your words cemented in his head. He resumed his painting, his worship on your neck as you cried loudly in the alleyway, desperate, needy for more.

It was dizzying to have him on you like this.

For so long, you had only touched him in a few ways, had only ever felt a specific type of warmth. But this was unlike anything you’ve ever done with him, to him. It felt like you were burning and freezing, consumed by heat and energy and everything Shouto. His all too familiar cologne filled your nose, drowning your brain, invading your senses. His frantic heartbeat felt against your own body, telling you exactly how you were affecting him, how you made his heart speed and jump with every breathy whine.

“Fuck, I can’t do this. We need to get home now!” Shouto growls, his hands grabbing you by the wrist yet again and pulling you away.

His strides are long, quick, and powerful. You’re running to keep up, beautifully out of breath, staggering and stumbling to keep up in his objective to get back to the apartment now.

It doesn’t seem to take long before he’s pushing open the doors to the apartment complex, corralling you through the doors and into the elevator to get to the eleventh floor. The elevator doors are behind you, and with no one else in the life, you turn on him and immediately resume your own endeavor of claiming Shouto with your mouth, body, and soul. He matches your intensity, hands roaming from where the clasp of your bra sat to the curve of your ass. He grabbed you, pulled you in closer, the air in his nose staggering as you stammer against his mouth.

Teeth touch lips, tongues in each other's cheeks, and Shouto leads you out of the elevator backward, his one hand on your waist forever steady and the other one holding the key. Your fingers are back in his hair, pulling and tugging sharply on the soft, short strands with nearly disappeared gel. He gets to the door, fumbling with the key as you continue to kiss him, distracting him with the smallest of movements.

“Which room?” he asks against your mouth, pushing you through the threshold, his foot closing the door behind him.

The shoes are haphazardly kicked off and you’re now on your tiptoes to continue kissing him as you were. You tried to think, tried to figure out if you wanted to be surrounded by Shouto’s scent or to have him displayed in your room. His teeth then suckle on your bottom lip, biting down on the swollen, hot flesh just gentle enough that your mind draws a blank and your voice responds on its own.

“Mine.”

You shriek then, Shouto swiftly picking you up off the floor and you panic, hands swatting and beating on him as you scream to let you down. He continues walking, holding you without a worry, his arms remaining strong and firm beneath you. But with your distraction, with your lips no longer pressed sinfully against his, Shouto’s mouth finds a junction point on your clavicle and sinks his teeth down again, claiming you once more.

“S-Sho—” your voice hitches, the feeling too intense for you to process all at once. You hear your room door open and close, and without warning, you’re soaring through the air before collapsing on the bed.

“You think I go to the gym to get muscles for fun?” Shouto taunts, his fingers hooking under the dark grey t-shirt he’s wearing. “Angel, I go to the gym to make sure I can fuck you in any position, against any surface or wall you want.”

Your body feels like it's scorching as he removes his shirt, his muscles rippling and moving seductively with the devious, intentional movement.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Shouto asks, the shirt dropping to the floor, removing all traces of oxygen from your person. He steps closer, fingers circling around your ankle and suddenly pulling you in toward him until you were sitting at the edge, his lips hovering over yours. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your tongue feels dry in your mouth, but your eyes narrow before you push up and capture his mouth back with yours. He kisses you back deeply, bending down so that you begin to shift backward, allowing him the space to crawl onto the bed with you, and at the last moment, your leg wraps around his waist and spins the both of you. Shouto gasps as you pin him onto the mattress, your tongue invading his mouth, brushing and swirling against his, coaxing his own tongue back into your own mouth. With the wet heat in your mouth, your teeth playfully, just gently dig into his appendage and tug.

“No, but it seems like I got yours,” you humor him, your teeth releasing his tongue, and Shouto looks up at you like you were both the sun and the moon, and the stars were a gift to him.

It takes your breath away.

Shouto grins, shifting onto his elbows so that he’s closer to you before kissing you again.

The kiss is growing louder, both your mouths ever so consuming, trying to relay years of repressed, unknown emotions and feelings within a drastic, incredible touch. Your hips begin shifting against his crotch, humping his clothed erection, demonstrating yet again the power and grace you hold in your body.

Shouto’s hands move from your ribs up to your breasts, and with the hot, rough flesh of his skin, he squeezes your tender flesh. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking wildly against him at the sensation. It isn’t a powerful flesh, but a reminder, a demonstration of just what and where he could inflect passionate actions.

Your hands scour his chest, fingernails dragging teasingly down his firm, developed muscles, fingers flicking and teasing at his own exposed nipples. Shouto grunts into your mouth, hips bucking powerfully upward into your clothed cunt, and you splutter at the power behind it. But it seems as though Shouto is over the fishnet mesh shirt and crop top you’re wearing because he’s tugging it out of the waistband of your jeans and commands in a deep, lust-ridden voice: “Off.”

Goosebumps flash across your skin, bubbling and spraying across your sensitive skin as your shirt and crop top join Shouto’s on the floor. Your gasp loudly when Shouto rolls the both of you over swiftly, his mouth immediately pressing hot, viper kisses on your breasts. All thought and reason leave your mind as his teeth nip and pull. His fingers pushing the straps of your bra off your shoulders and shoving your boobs out of the bra in a firm hold.

“You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted to touch you, kiss you, fuck you,” Shouto whispers, his tone almost dark as his hot air fans against your already pebbling nipples. “Fuck, angel, you’re better than anything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

You whine loudly, fingers tangling in his hair as you desperately, wordlessly try to persuade him to put his lips around your attentive, eager nipples.

“I always forget you got these things,” Shouto says in wonder, his fingers touching the metal bars sitting so innocently, deviously on through your nipple. He tugs on the bar, and all the nerves in your breast fire and tingle, and your feet curl by his back as you whimper. “Fuck... I can’t believe I forgot…”

“S-Shouto, I fucking swear!” you almost screech, hands desperately pulling at strands of red and white, wanting his teeth and tongue and the suction of his mouth on your nipple. “Stop. Fucking. Talking!”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Okay,” he says cheekily, and as if he read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your all too ready nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, clacking against the metal in your flesh. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, although you have no idea what you’re begging for. Your hips pathetically grinding into his clothed cock, trying to get yourself to cum while not having been touched. “Sho— Shouto!”

Shouto pulls away from your nipple with a loud pop. His breath panting, short, and overwhelmingly strained as if simply sucking your throbbing, needy nipple had given him the same amount of pleasure as it did you before consuming your forgotten one. Just as before, you melted against him, begging please, pretty please to him but never telling him what you were wanting. You didn’t know what you were wanting.

But unlike before, his hands leave their attentive position on your free nipple and slam your hips back down onto the mattress, keeping you down and still as he continued his ministrations until you were nipplegasming. You choked as the orgasm consumed you, your body going rigid and your eyes rolling to the depths of your head as his hot mouth was all you could think of. For a moment, the needy wet heat between your thighs was easily ignorable, something unneeded until Shouto was pulling away and kissing you again.

His chest was pressed tight against your own chest, your sensitive, overstimulated nipples rubbing against his chest with the welcomed friction as you let out a wordless, near-dizzy sigh into Shouto’s mouth. He kissed you with incredible passion, with dizzying heat, and consuming lust.

Your voice was so small, your voice easily drowned in Shouto’s mouth as your fingernails dug into his back and raked down pathetically, desperately proving that you were still here. Still fighting him on just who would win this night. Your fingers went down the curve of his spine, trailing down until you found the waistband of his sweats, and with his mouth everso distractingly on the swell of your breasts, biting, marking, and sucking hickies and his print on you for forever, he helped you slide the pants off.

In an almost dramatic fashion, his eyes burning deep into yours, leaving you stunned and a worshiper at his feet, he rose off your bed and let the pants fall. You shakily inhaled, your eyes suddenly transfixed and only seeing the hard, leaking dick that stood tall and proud against his twitching stomach. At the mere sight of him, you now truly, completely, and entirely understood just why the girls were obsessed.

From tip to the base, he was thick, the flush of his skin gorgeous, the curve of his cock optimal to fuck anyone. He was long, thick, and delicious—trimmed pubes of red and white and balls that had your mouth watering and going dry. You wondered, imagined, tried to visualize just how much it was going to hurt getting that in you. You’ve never had a man with a dick like that, never had to choke or fuck on something that looked like it would possibly render you stupid the moment you were impaled.

“Can I?” you ask, ‘can I touch you? Can I suck you?’ go unsaid.

“You owe me one,” Shouto says, his words teasing if it wasn’t for the way his voice betrayed him with the eagerness, the want and inexplicable tell that says if you don’t touch him, he will lose his fucking mind. “Please, do it.”

You’re dragging him back onto the bed, sitting him by your headboard, spreading his legs apart as you situate yourself between them. With a tentative, shaky hand, you reach out and grab on his dick.

His flesh is hot to the touch; it's hard and twitches just so at your grasp. Shouto lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, and you look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, your nose touching the underside of his length and nuzzling into the flesh. You look back up at him with hooded eyes, eyes dark with mirth, lust, and an overwhelming need to please Shouto. He stares back, eyes entirely too bright, almost scared, almost as if he can’t believe this is happening.

You smile softly, eyes breaking contact to look at the swelling cock in your hand, and then back at him as your tongue pokes out of your mouth and puts a long, wet stripe against his length.

And Shouto?

Shouto moans like a man who’s had warm food after days of starving.

You lick from base to tip, saliva mixing with precum as your mouth presses teasing, open mouth kisses down the length of his cock, tongue pressing against the sweltering heat of his balls.

“Fuck, y/n, stop teasing,” Shouto grits, his hips pathetically snapping into nothing, his hands desperately trying to touch you, to which you swatted him away each and every time. You tut, shaking your head. With both your hands fisting his dick at the middle of his length, your squeeze and pull in opposite directions.

The reaction is one that you were hoping for, Shouto’s head slamming to the headboard with a clash, his legs jumping just a bit, and precum coming out in even heavy drops. You laugh breathlessly at his display, enamored with how fucking easy he is to get to make noises. He’d never made noises before, no other girl had him the way you did, and that made you crazy with power.

Before you wanted to, your mouth consumed to head of his cock, allowing the musky smell that was completely and only Shouto to fully consume you. You sucked on his thick swollen head, tongue pressing on the leaking slit on his head as he choked on your name. You smile, taking him in further, straining against the weight in your mouth, the pressure on the back of your throat, and the stretch of your throat. As soon as you had him a bit way in, you were pushing out, his hips driving to find you but missing you. Shouto’s noise was almost broken, near needy, and your head spun with his noises. Unable to stop, you pushed in again, allowing the drive of his hips to send his cock further down your throat.

Tears filled your eyes at the action, his cock much too large, much too thick to be fucked into your throat as such. Your fists acted as a barrier as you adjusted, your throat humming, mouth moaning as Shouto lost himself to the heat of your wet mouth. You bobbed your head, fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks. You sucked his dick with the intention of ruining him, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you needed to consume. You let go of one hand, allowing it to fondle with his balls as his cock went further into your mouth, the sounds of your choking, gagging, and crying egging him on.

“You take me so good,” Shouto sang to you, whispering words that only you’ve heard. “Fuck, angel, take me all the way. I know you can do it.”

With his hands at the back of your head, your fingers squeezing his balls, and the shaky removal of your final hand on his cock, he drives his hips all the way up. Shouto curses loudly, and you choke, feeling the rush of cum shooting down your throat, and you’re let free.

“Swallow it all, don’t spit it up,” Shouto breathes, his body shifting upward, eyes intent, focused. “Let me see.”

You cough violently, mouth closed as you swallow the salty cum, only letting your mouth open to allow the drool and spit to drip from your flat tongue as you show him that you swallowed every last seed. He groaned, grasping you by the chin and pulling you back in for a passionate, all-consuming kiss. The taste of Shouto and his cum sat heavily in your throat, and you were shaking as he began to unbutton your jeans, shedding them off of you as he flipped you back around so that your back was resting against the mattress.

Salt sweat dripped down your neck, and Shouto left fingertip bruises on your waist, your knees and legs awkwardly kicking as you finally got your jeans off your ankles. You shuttered, feeling Shouto’s hot, spit-slick dick pressing against your stomach, your cunt flipping and twisting at the thought of taking him all in.

“You’re still, fuck… you’re still hard?” you gasp, Shouto’s fingers tracing the innards of your thighs, scratching at your ass, slapping it once, twice, leaving you pitched and shaking.

“How can I not be when you’re down beneath me?” Shouto asks, his eyes looking at you as if he was burning the very naked image to you in his brain for him forever. “You’re mine, right?”

The question itself, while unexpected, was not unwanted.

You feel yourself nodding, your fingers scratching up his flexed arms, “Yours and only yours.”

“Good,” Shouto smirks, leaning in, his entire weight on the one hand beside your head, making you groan as his lips were so close yet so far away. “I’m yours as you are mine.”

With that, his fingers pressed to your thus far, unattended to clit, your legs shaking, kicking the air as you howled in pleasure. But it was such an intimate place, something you never expected Shouto to ever touch, and so, in a voice so pathetic you couldn’t even recognize it as yours, you screeched: “D-Don’t touch that!”

Shouto cocked an eyebrow, his head tilting as his fingers swirled around your swollen nub, sending just enough electrifying pleasure through every neuron in your body. “Why not?” he asked, voice authoritative and curious and sadistic. “It’s mine — you’re mine. I can play with what’s mine whenever I want.”

The words make your entire will collapse, the words liquid heat in your ears and mind. You moan loudly, feeling Shouto adjust your hips, lining your spasming cunt with his cock, and with his tongue delving into your mouth, his lips pressing against yours, he slowly pushed into you.

Shouto was loud the entire way into you, the deep grunts, breathless moans, and mindless babble of how this was unlike anything he’s had before, better than anything he’s ever imagined. He bottoms out quickly, hands leaving purple bruises against your skin as you lay on the bed silent.

Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single tone noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper over and over, your legs tight around Shouto’s hips, shaking with the feeling in you. “God, y-you’re so big, Sho… I’m—”

You can’t finish your sentence because he shifts just enough that his cock is meeting places in you that had never been encountered before. Your eyes roll back again, your fingers pressing ruby red scars to his back as you scratch and tear his back.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Shouto pants, his mouth panting against the sweat on your collarbone, his own breathing heavy and spaced. “You’re perfect, y/n, so fucking perfect.”

You preen with those words, your mouth finding a home at his temple to which you kiss him, drag your lips down to his ear. You bite and nibble as you adjust to him buried deep within you. And he heaves a sigh and pushes up off you, eyes daring to stare into you as he huffs almost in disbelief of this entire night.

“I’m going to start moving,” he says, fingers scratching down your sides to your thighs. “Are you ready?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod. Shouto smiles, leaning back down for one last kiss to which you quickly returned, staying there as his hips moved backward before thrusting back into you. It's the first thrust of many, but your arms wrap even tighter underneath his own, your nails scarring his back as he goes again and again. You fucks into you deliberately, readily, with purpose and skill that speaks wonders and lives up to the many rumors you’ve ever heard.

His thrusts are powerful, slapping into your thighs with a mighty smack, making you whimper and wail into his salty neck as your hips lift up to meet his. It's a powerful dance, a dizzying cycle. His cock sliding up and down your puffy velvet walls, your weeping walls clenching him in a vice, unforgiving and unwilling to let go.

He speaks praises into your ear, your yours, your mouth.

“Such a pretty angel, moaning for me, crying for me, tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want me buried in your fucking stomach.”

You are converted to him in return, seeing him, speaking to him, devoted to him.

“Fuck, I want you more. Faster, harder! Don’t stop! I can feel you in my stomach, Sho! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!”

His weight is pressed on your thighs, spreading your thighs further apart, fucking into deeper, fucking you so powerfully, so desperately your soaked cunt squelches and drips your essence, soaking your bed and his legs. Your teeth sink into his skin, copper filling your mouth, and your vision feels missing as you are slamming your hips up, rolling them desperately to fuck back into him. You can feel his hand clutching yours, pressing it into the mattress as he somehow speeds up again, drilling you into the mattress, the bed creaking and bending under both your weight.

“More, more, more!”

And he gives, and gives, and gives.

You wail his name, the heat in your skin, tickling your clit and innards making you sweat, the alcohol on your skin sticking you to Shouto.

Shouto grunts your name, hisses your name, damns you heaven and back for having such a fucking grip on him. It's when he looks into your eyes, cock drilling into you at a speed and power that no human should ever obtain, one hand gripping yours and the other pinching and teasing your clit, you cum, bursting open at the seams.

Your orgasm is loud, clenching, all-consuming, and you drag Shouto down with you as he stammers, shudders, and cums deep within your womb. His seed spilling out of you as the both of you collapse onto the bed with breathless, thoughtless minds.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Right?” you chuckle.

And with your nose pressed to his sweaty, sex-lulled body, you fall asleep with his hands traveling up and down your spine. Hopefully, things would be well when you woke up.

P R E S E N T

To stop you from screeching so loudly you woke up the entire world, Shouto held his hand to your mouth, his eyes wide, terrified, and completely confused.

“Please stop yelling… my head hurts…” Shouto begs, his face completely exhausted but with that post-orgasm sleep glow.

“We had sex?!” you shriek, throwing his hand off your mouth. “We were mad at each other, and we had sex?!”

“Oh,” Shouto seems to remember, his head rolling before he sat up, bringing you up with him. “Right, we should talk about that, huh?”

“You think?!” you shriek, entirely overwhelmed with the fact that you had done so much embarrassing shit last night.

It’s quiet for a bit. The birds chirping outside an almost cheerful taunt as the both of you, for the first time in seventeen years, find it too awkward to talk. No one wants to speak first, to mention the elephant in the room, for once it happened, there really was no going back. Not that there was much to go back from.

“I’m in love with you,” Shouto finally says. It’s an admittance, a whisper that's strong despite it told in such a hushed voice as if you would laugh at him as he confessed. “I’ve actually been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Now that shocks you.

Your eyes are wide, and you’re staring at Shouto, unsure what to say, what to ask, but you know you need more answers.

“I know, hard to believe, huh?” Shouto chuckles, his hand running through his sex and sleep disheveled hair. “It’s true, though… I don’t remember not ever being in love with you.”

“No… no way,” you say, your body running cold, and you shiver. You remember then that you’re sitting up, and you’re very incredibly naked. Shouto notices and moves to grab a blanket at the foot of the bed and wraps it around you. “That doesn’t make sense,” you argue, your furrowed brows making your skin crease as you try to think back on all your years and memories, looking for signs in which Todoroki Shouto loved you. “You never showed it.”

“Camie said the same thing,” Shouto sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Before I was sixteen… I don’t know; I guess I could understand why. I only ever talked to you, always paired up with you. I let you hold my hand, and I let you hug me… I thought me telling you that I had never been kissed before would make you want to kiss me, but it never did. I know I was awkward and a little different when we were younger, so when I was paired up with Camie… I thought she would help me.”

“By fucking you?” you asked, your frown deepening as you remembered your bitter feelings over Camie stealing Shouto’s virginity.

“She… she said that by being sexual, maybe you would see me as a man, and not the four-year-old crying boy in preschool,” Shouto smiled sadly, his fingers picking at one another. “Me having sex was supposed to show you that I was a man who wanted to see you as a woman in return, but it didn’t work.”

“Well, no shit,” you snort, relaxing a bit although you felt limp. You found yourself leaning against Shouto’s strong shoulders, your head landing heavily on him. “You went from a virgin to fucking anything with a wet hole.”

“...yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Shouto said with regret, his shoulders sagging just a bit. “At first, I thought I needed to fuck more girls to prove I was a man to you because you acted like nothing had happened after Camie… but sex was fun, it felt good.”

“Sex is good,” you agree with a soft chuckle to which he returned.

He shifted a bit, arms tightening and relaxing before he finally admitted, “It helped distract me from you because you looked at others the way I wanted you to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back.

“No, don’t be,” Shouto speaks firmly, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It was my fault. I was never assertive enough, confident enough to simply confess.”

“So, does you being in love with me having anything to do with you driving the entire male population away from me?”

Your eyes look up at him, finding his embarrassed gaze before he glances away.

“That actually wasn’t intentional… I guess I just talk about you a lot.”

“Yeah, but still doesn’t mean you couldn’t ever deny it yourself!”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Apologize then.”

“Y/l/n Y/n, I am sorry for making the entire male population we’ve ever come across think we were an item and not telling them otherwise. I am sorry for keeping you from enjoying sex while I continued to. I am lousy, and my love for you should be unreturned because that was ass of me.”

You sigh, your lips pursed to keep from smiling as you looked back at his handsome face.

“Now, ask me the damn question, crybaby.”

“Crybaby?”

“You finally admitted that you were, in fact, crying!!!!!”

If you asked Shishikura Seiji what the worst thing about being the third roommate to Todoroki Shouto and you was, he would give a million and three answers as to why it was the worst.

One: he absolutely hated how loud the both of you were. Todoroki Shouto was someone he thought was quiet and introverted, but whenever he was around you, he was loud. You were just plain old loud, and he thought it was annoying.

Two: he absolutely hated your rice. Call it petty, but after you fed him on his first night and tried putting him into a chokehold for saying the song your rice cooker sang at its end was the stupidest fucking thing ever made, everything you made taste like ash and dirt.

Twenty: he hated that there were biweekly karaoke nights. He would be studying away in his room and wanted to die when he heard the all too familiar sound of Mamma Mia’s Here We Go Again blasting in the living room.

Hundred fifty-seven: SO. MUCH. FUCKING. SEX.

Three hundred thirteen: SO. MUCH. DRINKING.

Five thousand: SO. MUCH. WEED.

Ten thousand three: you put his toilet seat up whenever you’re drunk, so he falls in when he goes to pee in the morning.

Five hundred: the way the both of you looked at each other, fucking disgusting.

To say the least, there were a lot of many different reasons scaling from actual issues to petty small shit, but Shishikura was not in any position to find a new apartment, so he stayed. To be quite honest, having been living with Dumb and Dumber (you and Shouto, respectively), he only thought there would be one thing that would make him lose his actual mind.

The day that would inevitably come and the both of you realized your feelings were, in fact, returned. He didn’t want to even imagine how the animalistic sex he often had to hear coming from your hallway would increase, or the sappy stupid romantic love he would see in the living room because as best friends, you both had no care for PDA and if you were allowed to kiss? Allowed to have sex? He feared he would have to wear a hazmat suit in every corner of the apartment. You both were already incredibly loud as a duo (see reason one as to why he hates living here); he feared the worst when the mutual love was realized.

But he exited his room a week after that Sunday morning with a fully loaded water gun just in case. His eyes narrowed, the hair on his neck raised as his beady eyes focused in on the living room.

Shouto sat on the couch, his back on the armrest, and you sitting between his thighs as you watched him play some game on his Switch, your smile large and annoyingly bright, but he realized that he couldn’t hear you screaming or speaking so loudly he could listen to the conversation.

No, as a matter of fact, Shishikura couldn’t hear a single word; the words being exchanged between you and Shouto spoke so softly, so intimately, it shocked him. Shishikura noticed with an almost awed surprise that even though your smile was as annoyingly bright as before. It wasn’t directed at anything but Shouto, and Shouto’s smile, while nowhere near as big, just as warm and full to you.

It was intimate, romantic even.

Nothing had changed in your relationship except now, finally, now, you were allowed to kiss and fuck each other like heat-driven animals.

Shishikura was shocked to his core, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him.

You nor Shouto paid him any mind, too lost in the game and in each other to look his way as he made his way into the kitchen for his lunch. Shishikura set the water gun on the counter, a small smile spreading on his face despite himself, and chuckled.

Maybe the two of you together weren’t something to hate on after all.

“Hey, is that a water gun?!”

[lxffy]

Idk if you write for Boa but can I request Boa headcannons about her falling inlove with a female pirate. The reader (female pirate) washed upon the shore of the amazons and was brought to Boa to be nursed back to health. Until the day comes that the reader is all healed and they set out to venture again putting boa into her mild lovesickness, after a few months the reader comes back and makes up for lost time?? Its up to you if you want to add more scenes. If you dont write for her then please just ignore 🙏

beauty on the shore

reader: afab + she/her

ft. boa hancock

note: no warnings ! why is this kinda long… ik you said headcanons but this is how i write headcanons for a single person :o

you were barely conscious when you suddenly heard the distant yelling of someone in the background. you couldn’t decipher what was going on, but you knew you were no longer on your ship. since you were a pirate, coming ashore on a random island could be dangerous depending on the islands current inhabitants and being on guard is the best decision, but you couldn’t move a muscle. you were losing blood from the gash on your thigh, too much to stay conscious…

slowly but surely, you finally regained your consciousness.

“empress, she’s awake!”

you looked around your surroundings, realizing you were receiving hospitality from people you didn’t recognize. shortly after, a tall woman who walked with prestige entered the room you were staying in.

you weren’t sure how to react, but you knew that since these people were talking such good care of you that you had know reason to be afraid.

boa took the responsibility of getting to know you and where you came from. the way she spoke gave you the impression that she was someone with and in power and quickly recalled that she was referred to as an “empress.”

even knowing her status, you decided to be yourself in front of boa, telling her about yourself, but still leaving some things out to stay a bit mysterious.

before boa knew it, she suddenly wanted to know more about you. oh, how much she loved to hear your voice. it was so sweet and comforting, it made her forget about her position in the world and let her relax for short moments at a time. your stories were exciting, but she could tell there were things missing but she didn’t pry, afraid she might make you uncomfortable.

when you were finally on your feet again, she wanted to spend every moment with you. she helped you walk around, showed you around amazon lily, and took the responsibility of giving you any medicine you might’ve needed.

it surprised boa’s sisters and gloriosa; when was the last time boa had spent so much time getting to know someone like this?

the time had finally come when you were fully healed and you were ready to get back on your adventures. having to leave amazon lily, and essentially boa, definitely hurt, but little did you know it hurt boa so much more.

she’s never felt like this before! she even tells gloriosa that she’s planning on setting out with you just so she can be with you for as long as possible. but with her multiple titles, she wouldn’t be able to.

the kuja pirates lend you one of their boats for your travels, and offer to guide you and make sure the calm belt doesn’t destroy your boat. you accept and boa is eager to go, but gloriosa once again reminds her of her duties. if she left with you, would she even come back? it was a risk she couldn’t take.

just when you were about to board the ship, you gave boa hug, much to her surprise. she was stunned, confused, flustered— nothing could describe the way she felt. you had finally let go to board the ship, and she suddenly felt he urge to hug you again, missing your touch greatly.

when you left, it felt like years since you she last saw you. you promised you’d come back eventually, but couldn’t give an estimated time. boa couldn’t stop counting the days until she saw you again.

it wasn’t until months had past when the empress heard word of a small ship approaching the island.

you were here, and boa was absolutely freaking out. she wasn’t expecting you to come back so soon! it felt like an eternity since you were last year, yet now in the moment, she wasn’t ready. you left her world once only to come back crashing in and completely take over her mind once again.

you wasted no time getting to boa.

“hancock! i missed you!”

you immediately tackled her for a hug and once again, boa was stunned. but this time, she wrapped her arms around you too wanting to take all of you in. she missed your touch so much.

“i have so much to tell you and more, so would you be willing to go on a walk with me?”

still in shock for your return, she answered immediately.

“o-oh, of course!”

but first, there was a banquet to celebrate your safe return. most of women knew how much boa appreciated you and were excited to celebrate along with her

it was the start of a serious of events, boa spent every minute of free time she had with you reveling in your presence as much as possible. you had started calling boa by her given name and couldn’t believe how beautiful her name sounded when you called out to her.

boa spent a lot of her time thinking of activities to do with you, even inviting you on trips with the kuja pirates when it was time to replenish goods on the island. walking around the city, trying new foods, and going on picnics are just a few of the things she’s planned.

she fell in love unexpectedly and savored each and every moment she had with you.

🏷: @underscar + @blackweebtrash + @thatsprettycoolbro + @heartsforteruhashi

join my taglist here !

[purplekiwis]

OMG YES! Damaged goods blurb! Can you do a fluff one where one of them is sick with seasonal flu and the other has to take care of them, but they're being stubborn about it because that's just what they do and how they are 🤧

Okay, okay... here she is! It's a bit meh I think, but I hope you like it! 🥰

*

Harry is sick and grumpy, and Y/N takes care of him (from the Damaged Goods AU)

Harry feels miserable.

He’s worse than miserable, really,

because he has a cold… or is it the flu?! He has never known to spot the differences between the two, but he recognized all of the early signs, of course...

As per usual, it started with nothing but a sore throat one morning when he woke up, that ended up lingering throughout the whole day, then came a headache, and the tiredness, and the chills…

It wasn’t so unbearable at first… but the symptoms only kept getting worse and worse as the hours went by, to the point of leaving him with no choice but to skip his classes in favor of staying in bed… suffering.

The worst part about it? He wasn’t even suffering at home – where his mom could be taking her lips to his forehead every so often to see if he had a fever, and bringing him bowls of soup and fruit cubes on that same familiar bedtray that had accompanied him throughout all his periods of sickness.

Mom would also be making sure he stayed hydrated and took his medicine in time... which by the way, he wasn’t taking any. Logically speaking, Harry knew he should have gone to a pharmacy by now, to get something to make him feel better, but how? When he couldn't even muster the will to get up and go downstairs to fill the empty water bottle perched on his nightstand.

He couldn’t move.

Every single inch of his body hurt.

And now he was starting to get shivery under his bedclothes... for fucks sake.

If only he had Pepper, his spaniel mutt puppy, around to snuggle and keep his body cozy and warm like a hot water bag... then perhaps Harry would've been in a better mood. Yeah, definitely. Pepper would've let him bury his snotty face into its soft fur, and not even think to complain if its owner left a puddle of guck all over said fur.

But well, Pepper isn't there.

And being sick sucks.

Especially because Harry really wants some cuddles... and it hasn't been helping his case whatsoever that in this trying day of illness, his mind has done nothing but think of Y/N.

Pondering over what outfit she must have worn that day and what she might be up to while he’s laying there on his deathbed. He also wonders if she has noticed his absence, and if so… if she’s worried about him.

He huffs once he checks his phone again and realizes there are still no messages from her. She doesn’t have to check on him. He knows that, but he can't help that he likes to be cared for sometimes… and as it turns out illness has a tendency to turn him into a big, needy baby... who really wants to have Y/N taking care of him. It would be so good. She could play with his hair the way he likes, give him forehead kisses, hold his hand…

Harry sighs out loud. Her company would be even better than Pepper's, he believes... although Harry isn't so sure Y/N would enjoy having his snot on her as much as his trusty pup would, but that’s beside the point.

It’s even more beside the point because he knows she's not coming to see him.

She’s mad at him, he recalls now. Stupidly so, if he's allowed to think that - he did nothing wrong, after all. She asked him for a “brutally honest opinion” on a design work she was doing for one of her classes, and he simply gave her what she asked for, plain as that. But of course, then she didn’t like what he had to say and got sulky. Just girls being girls, he guesses…

Harry should've known better than to think that would stop her from coming to see him, though. His girl was a little box of surprises, after all... a true master in the art of keeping him on his toes.

She showed up only half an hour after she was done with her classes... softly knocking on his door before poking her head inside with a smile, only for her jaw to drop in shock at the absolute misery that oozed from his pores.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked sickly, almost comically. Harry could have laughed at it if he wasn't so utterly lethargic. “What- what are you doing here?”

“Well, what do you think?” The girl huffed, shutting the bedroom door behind her and heading towards the end of the bed to get a good look at him, hands on her hips. “Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Here I was, going about my day thinking you had slept in for being a bum, only to find out through your friends that you were unwell.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his downright amusement at her worried state. Y/N was worried about him? Well then, perhaps her irritation had passed and she had forgiven him… which meant maybe he’d get to have those cuddles he wanted so bad. “I thought you were mad at me?” He poked, eyebrows arching teasingly the best they could with the little energy the muscles on his face could muster.

“Well, I was and am now even more.” She punctuated. “But I still care, obviously. How am I supposed to leave you by yourself when you look like that?” She put down the bag she was holding at the edge of the bed and kneeled next to it on the floor.

“Look like what?” He frowned again. “All snotty and gross?”

“Precisely… and an awful lot like Rudolph the reindeer as well.” Y/N added, with a soft pat to the tip of his swollen, red nose.

Harry smiled at that, right before his eyes fell on the bag over his bed. “Did you go to the store to get those creepy sheet masks you wanted?”

“Huh?” She muttured confused, before noticing where he was looking at. “Oh no, um… these are just some things I got for you. Just vitamins and those gummies for when you have a sore throat, and also uh…” Y/N's cheeks went a little hot. “I got some chicken soup from the buffet restaurant as well, you know… the one next to the drug store. I thought it might do you good…”

“You went to get all that stuff for me?” Harry asked, Y/N hummed happily in confirmation, her eyes gleaming with tenderness. “Y/N... you shouldn't have. That shit is so expensive, and I'm fine, really. It's just a cold. You dont have to worry, let alone take care of me.”

“No offence, but I think I do.” The girl challenged his statement, picking up the halfway used toilet paper roll placed on his nightstand. “For a start, you shouldn’t even be using this to blow your nose. It’ll only irritate your skin and make it more sore.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “That’s such a mum thing to say…” He grumbled in attempt to mask the fact that the secret big, needy baby in him was loving every single bit of the mom talk, and the same applies to when Y/N clicked her tongue chastisingly once he stubbornly snatched the roll off her hand and pulled out some more paper.

She took the chance that he had moved his arm to move a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his pillow. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” She asked, lovingly running her digits through his unwashed curls. They felt a little waxy and knotty in her hands, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest. She just wanted to make him feel better in any way she could. So she kept playing with his hair, scratching at the roots and combing her fingers through his strands just the way she knew he reveled in - only breaking contact once she was almost certain that he had fallen asleep on her... However, as soon as Y/N began to pull her hand away to check her phone, Harry let out a whine and bumped his forehead against her wrist, in a silent request for her to keep going. “You're such a baby sometimes…” Y/N whispered, proceeding to fulfill his wish.

“Mhm... your baby.” He sighed happily.

Y/N smiled to herself at the state of pure bliss Harry was in. So utterly distracted by the slow puffy nature of his breaths, that she almost didnt notice that his droopy eyes had opened and were now fixed on her. He cleared his throat painfully. “Y/N... can I have one of those gummies you got? My throat hurts and I really want to try one.”

Y/N let out a tiny chuckle at the pleading tone he'd used, nodding as she got up to grab the bottle from the bag. She threw it at him playfully to catch midair, knowing that his reflexes were outstanding. “Ohh these seem nice. I love lemon and honey flavored shit.” He told her whilst inspecting the label.

“Yeah?” Y/N couldn’t help but to grin, feeling quite proud of herself for picking the right flavor. But her smile quickly melted into an expression of concern once she watched Harry crack open the bottle and carelessly throw a bunch of gummies into his mouth. “Harry! What are you- that’s not candy! You can’t eat them by the handful!”

“Oi, chill out… it’s just gummies. What wrong could it do?” He asked as he blithely chewed them. Words coming out garbled since he was speaking in between a mouthful.

“Oh, I don't know, perhaps there could be anesthetics in them... but who knows? It was just a thought.” Y/N ironized.

“Really?” He made a wry face similar to hers, inspecting the label closer. “Do you think we can get high on this shit?” He smirked, still chewing as he rolled the container around to check the ingredients in the back. “Cause I'm not gonna lie, that sounds like a pretty good afternoon plan to me...” He half joked, cracking the bottle open again and dropping a couple more gummies in his palm.

Y/N heaved at the suggestion. “I think it’s more likely that you get a terrible bellyache, and we end up in the ER...”

“You really think so?” Harry asked teasingly, taking another gummy to his mouth.

“Okay, that's enough. Give me that.” Y/N demanded, pushing for him to pass the container, but all he did was shake his head with a mischievous, defiant smirk. The girl rolled her eyes at him. “You know what? Fine.” She shrugged. “Eat as many as you want. Can't wait to watch you shit the bed once those anesthetics give you a loose bottom.”

He chuckled at the warning, amused. “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you come get them from me?” He questioned, but before he could prepare himself Y/N jumped on the bed to try and take the bottle away from his hands, what forced him to abruptly sit up and hold it over his head just so she couldn’t reach it from where she sat. “That was... real cute. Is that all you got, hm?”

Y/N huffed and crawled over his legs until she was practically on his lap. Seeing right through his facade once he happily handed off the gummies without putting up a fight and wrapped his arms around her middle to pull her in for a hug instead. “You must think you're so sly, don't you?” She mumbled in question, going back to petting his hair. “If you wanted a cuddle, you could’ve just said so… I don't mind your germs.”

“I was trying to behave to avoid getting you sick, actually…”

“Yeah right...” Y/N grumbled, dropping her head on his shoulder for a moment. “But I guess, since you've already passed me the germs and all... might as well just give me a kiss, no?” She proposed shyly, waiting for Harry to make the move. He did, pulling away slightly and placing his lips in hers softly. “Mm, more.” She pouted.

“Greedy.” He joshed, pecking the girl's lips again, and again... and once more for good measure. The damage was already done, after all... they might as well just keep doing it. “I feel disgusting, though. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve at least taken a shower and brushed my teeth. Can’t believe you still want to kiss me when I am like this.”

Y/N scratched at the frizzy hairs of his nape. “I promise you don't smell or look nearly as bad as you think you do… and you taste like lemon and honey so, that’s nice.” Harry distrustfully scrunched up his nose at her allegation, sniffing up some in the process before his digits rushed to grab some more toilet paper. He took it to his nose, blowing noisily. “Alright, snotty boy…” Y/N laughed, swiftly crawling off his lap. “How about I go downstairs to plate up our soup while you pick a movie for us to watch as we eat? It can be one of those “guy movies” and all, I promise I won't complain... today only, cause I'm giving you privilege for being sick.”

His eyes strayed towards you with interest, the lower half of his face still covered behind the poorly ripped toilet paper sheets. “I was actually thinking more like a musical or a pixar movie, maybe?”

“God, Harry.” Y/N gasped in awe. “I swear I've never felt more attracted to you in my life. Snot and everything.”