#i originally wrote this as the answer to someone else's post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wafflefries13 · 4 months

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The Consequence of Late Night Calls

Summary: You've been friends with Katsuki for years, and you've always thought it's been just that - friends. But when you get a late-night call, it might just change things.

AN: Last repost! The original post got eaten by Tumblr. I'm still really proud of this one. I wrote it back when I was first starting to publish fanfic and I like how it turned out.

Warnings: College au, drinking, language

The call shocked you out of a deep but impromptu sleep. You jerked up from the noise, a page of lecture notes sticking to your check. It fluttered back to the desk covered in its own mess of loose leaf documents, used textbooks that cost more than a weekend trip to Disney World, and a laptop missing three of its letter keys.

You dragged your tongue against your teeth, trying to get rid of the cotton feel coating the inside of your mouth. Rubbing stars into your tired eyes, you wondered when exactly you had fallen asleep. Was it somewhere near memorizing the latin terminology for court rhetoric or around reading the case file and trial records you were going to be tested over on Monday? Deciding wondering was basically pointless, considering you had pretty much forgotten all of it anyway, you pawed blindly around for your phone.

“Hello?” You answered, eyes still closed, although it probably came out and more of a mumbled groan than anything else.

“(Y/NNNNNNNNN)!”

You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden loud noise. Blinking bleerally, you looked down at your phone. You had taken the caller ID picture a year ago, at a sorority Halloween party you barely remembered aside from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed followed by an ill-advised scavenger hunt that ended with a call to the police and the dean’s car somehow ending up in the agriculture department’s greenhouse crowded with Jack-O-lanterns. It was a profile shot of Bakugou Katsuki, his mouth opened in a mid-yell scowl, as was his standard expression, and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. One hand extended to try and block the camera, the other clutching a brown bottle. He was wearing a fantasy barbarian king costume, chest bare to show off the taut muscles he worked so hard for all of high school to get. When he’d shown up in it, or, rather, when Kirishima had dragged him along in his own dragonborn costume, you couldn’t believe he still had it. You remembered sitting in your basement in 9th grade, pricking your fingers with a sewing needle as you and the rest of your newly formed D&D group, Bakugou and Kirishima included, spent way too much time and effort into creating your costumes.

Rubbing at the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to chase away the headache you could already feel forming, you brought the phone back to your ear. You could hear the low thump of bass heavy music in the background.

“Hi, Suki,” You said, trying not to sound condescending, but it came out like that anyway.

“Hey!” He said sharply. The rest of his reply was slurred smooth. “I told you not to call me that.”

You smirked. “It’s cute.”

“It’s embarrassing! ‘M not cute.”

“No, you’re calling me at-” You pulled the phone away again to check the time. “Katsuki, it’s like two in the morning, what the hell?”

You heard someone shout something on the other side of the line that Katsuki mumbled a reply to. To you he said, “Was thinking about you.”

You felt yourself blush despite yourself. “You were thinking about me?”

There was a clunk and a bump. You could imagine him falling against a wall and sliding down to sit until the room stopped spinning. “Yeah. I don’t like it.”

You ignored the jab in your heart. “Well, thanks.”

“It keeps happening. I’ll just be, like, doing stuff, and then I just think, ‘What would (Y/N) think of that?’ ‘I wonder what (Y/N)’s doing right now.’ ‘(Y/N) would know what to do now. She’s so smart. And her hands look so soft. And her eyes are so pretty.’” He was quiet for a second. “It’s annoying. I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s worse when you’re here.” There was a shuffling as you heard him try to stand up then give up again. “Why aren’t you here? I want you here.”

You were wide awake now. You clenched and unclenched your hand, trying to process the information your obviously drunk friend had just confessed. Your stomach churned in a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and straight up butterflies.

What the hell did all of that mean? Well, of course you knew what it meant, or you knew what it meant when spoken by a sober person of sound mind and body. But there was no way, you tried to rationalize, that The Bakugou Katsuki, the guy you’d known since freshman year of high school when he’d punched a guy who had flipped up your uniform skirt on the first day, the guy who had surprised just about everyone in home economics when he busted out a three tiered cake like it was no one’s business, the guy whos ego was big enough to have its own gravitational pull, was confessing his feelings to you in a drunk rant at two in the morning.

“Katsuki,” You said in a soft voice. “I-”

There was a retching sound from the other end of the line. Katsuki coughed, tried to say something, then threw up again. “Aw, fuck.”

That headache was back with avengence now. You sighed, looking for your keys. “Katsuki, where are you?”

“Uhh, on campus? At the Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. There’s a party. Why aren’t you here?”

“You know I hate all the Greek life bs. Stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. You’re completely wasted.”

“‘M not. I can handle what I drink.” There was another pause before he wretched again.

“Did you just throw up again?”

“...No.”

“Cool. I’ll be there in ten.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond before hanging it. You didn’t think your heart could take it if he kept going on like he had been. Grabbing your keys and heading out of your crowded studio apartment, you hopped in your car to go save your drunk friend from making any other ill advised decisions that night.

You realized that you were probably over thinking the whole phone call as you drove through deserted streets. You couldn’t help it, it was a bad habit you had formed as a kid that now made you obsess over court documents and testimonies in class. But now, instead of helping, it was picking you apart. What did Katsuki’s tone imply when he was talking to you just now? Could you trust the tone of an inebriated person? What did he mean when he said he thought about you a lot? You’d known each other for years now, being involved in almost all the same activities. Wouldn’t it be natural to think about someone you spent so much time with? But you’d known Kirishima for just as long, not to mention the rest of the self-named “Baku-Squad.” You’d never gotten a late night drunk call from any of them. Heck, Katsuki had known Izuku way longer than he had known you, and you were pretty dang sure Katsuki had never called him going on and on about how he always thought about him.

Stopping at a red light, you pressed your forehead into the soft faux-leather of your steering wheel, willing your thoughts to calm down and just come to a rational conclusion already. Expect, you know, a rational conclusion that wasn’t that the guy you had carried a torch for for almost as long as you had known him might actually have feelings for you back.

You turned on to the street lined with sororities and fraternities across from the main campus. You had to slam on your breaks almost immediately to avoid running over a tipsy, giggling co-ed who was stumbling out into the road. She didn’t even look up at you.

You didn’t know exactly which house Katsuki was stranded at, considering you could see at least three different parties all going on at first glance. His “Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever” wasn’t very helpful, either, considering all the Greek letters adorning the houses blended together in your mind at some point. And you really didn’t want to tramp through a bunch of different houses tonight.

Thankfully, you were saved the trouble when you saw Kirishima’s 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle park half off the curb in front of one of the houses. You’d know that car anywhere. Kirishima had dragged your group to various scrap yards and auto-repair stores all summer after he got his license, the first of you all to do so, in an effort to fix up the worn down Chevelle that he’d bought for a hundred bucks and a turkey sandwich.

You parked on the other side of the street then jogged across to the house that was practically vibrating with heavy music and Greek life energy. Stepping over a semi-conscious frat boy laying in the doorway, you scanned around the house for any sign of Katsuki’s pomeranian-puff-ball hair.

You spotted Denki lounging on a couch, a lampshade on his head and a tangle of phone chargers clutched in his fist. His hand sparked every now and then as he used his quirk to recharge the collection of phones.

You lifted up the edge of the lampshade. “Hey there, Pikachu.”

“Heeeeeey~” He said, giving you a thumbs up. You could already tell he was too far gone, although you didn’t know if it was from drinking or the over use of his quirk.

“(Y/N)!” You heard a voice call behind you. A body fell heavily against your back. Sero wrapped his arms around you in a backwards hug. “Where you been? We missed you!”

“Studying. I’m boring, remember? I’m looking for Katsuki, you seen him around?”

Sero snickered. “Bakugou, huh? He’s been looking for you for a long time, right, Denki?”

“Heeeeeey~”

You swallowed hard. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Sero snickered again, flopping on the couch next to Denki. “Can’t tell. Part of the bro code. And he said he’d kill me.”

“That does sound like Katsuki.”

Sero covered his eyes with his arm, head leaning back. With a wide smile, he waved his hand in the vague direction to the back door. “I think he’s out by the pool or something.”

You waved bye. “Thanks, I’ll go check it out. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?”

“Look at ‘em go,” Sero said to Denki as you left. “You think they’ll have a spring wedding?”

“Heeeeeey~”

*~~~~*

You managed to weave your way through the crowd of bodies clogging the house to finally spill out into the back yard. You had no idea how people were able to stay this energized this late into the night with this many other people around. You remembered once being stuck at another party, early on in your college days. When it became super clear you didn’t want to be there, overwhelmed by the noise, the crush of bodies, and the suffocation of social enterprise, Katsuki had dragged Kirishima over to you, planting him in front of you as your ‘extrovert shield.’ He’d stayed with you behind the boisterous redhead for the rest of the night.

You wondered if Katsuki remembered doing that, if he remembered any of the small nice gestures he did for you over the years. And now, with his call, with what Sero said, with your over analyzing brain, you were dissecting every interaction you could remember. Was the time he opened a door for you a signal? Was the reason he would ask to study with you for chemistry, when he was way better in practically every subject than you, just so he could be close to you? Were the times he had given you his jacket when you were cold meant to be a more intimate moment?

God, you were going to go crazy.

Walking around the pool, you finally spotted the hot-headed blond. He was sitting slouched over on the end of one of the reclining pool chairs, forearms braced on his knees. You almost called out to him, stopping cold when you saw the girl behind him. She had draped herself over his back, chin rested in the crook of his neck, one had massaging his shoulder, the other conspicuously sneaking under the hem of his shirt to rub circles on his abs.

You clenched and unclenched your hands, worry gnawing at you as a headache at the back of your skull. Had something changed between the time he had called you and now? Had there been nothing there to change at all? Had you been misreading this situation the whole time?

Katsuki looked up, his permanently affixed scowl even deeper. The second his jewel-red eyes met yours, you felt your heart skip a beat. He jumped to his feet so fast the girl behind him fell back against the chair. He tried marching over to you, which was made only slightly less intimidating by the drunk sway to his step.

You didn’t remember him being so tall. You’d just seen him this afternoon. There was a flushed blush across his face, adding a surprising softness. Were his arms always that strong looking? Were his eyes that piercing? Was his jaw that strong?

“You came,” He said, voice rough as whiskey soaking into gravel.

You spread your hands. “Well, you said my name three times, so, here I am!” You laughed nervously, trying to ignore how his gaze pinned you down.

He took another step towards you, hand reading up. “(Y/N), I-”

His cheeks turned from pink to green. Lurching to the side, he vomited into the pool. You tried to help him back up, hunched over and trying to catch his breath. The crowd of people around you groaned in disgust before rolling in to sarcastic applause. Katsuki flipped them off.

“Alright, Suki,” You said, rubbing his back. “Let’s get you back home.”

He grumbled, leaning his full weight against you. You almost stumbled and fell with the sudden shift of balance. Katsuki slid his arm around your waist, hand firmly grasping your hip, as if he was the one trying to prevent you from a drunken stumble. His fingers felt like fire through your clothes.

You decided to go around the house instead of trying to push your way through it. Soon you were making your way across the street. It took some maneuvering to unlock and open the passenger door. You practically dropped Katsuki in where his head fell back with a groan. You grabbed his seat belt and stretched across him to fasten it. It wasn’t until he started petting your hair that your realized your position of half-way laying across his lap. You jerked back, some of your hair getting caught in his fingers. He made a disappointed sound at the loss of it.

You slid back into the driver's seat, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You had to take a few steadying breaths before you were ready to start the car. Pulling out of the neighborhood, you glanced over at Katsuki. His eye brows were furrowed, eyes closed, mouth pulled in a small frown.

God, he looked adorable.

You hit the break harder than you meant to at the light. Adorable? Where the hell did that thought come from? He’d probably be furious if he knew you ever thought that.

But…

You risked another look at him. When he let his face relax like this, you could see the slight chub that still clung to his cheeks. Another thing he would hate to know that you thought was how much you loved the softness that it leant him. It was cute.

Almost without your realizing it, you lifted your hand. You were overcome with the sudden urge to poke his cheek. A car horn blared behind you when your finger was less than an inch from his face. You let out an undignified squeak, hands slamming back to the wheel. Katsuki grumbled and turned in the seat, head resting against the window. You could feel the blush burning up your face.

A few minutes later, you pulled back to the apartment complex. You both lived in the same building, Katsuki directly below your own unit. And now you were overthinking his reason for not living on campus.

When you opened the passenger door, Katsuki almost fell out. You jerked forward to catch him then dragged him out. He half woke up, as feeble on his legs as a newborn horse.

You lugged him through the lobby. He was muttering under his breath, but most of the words you could make out were curses. Not unusual for him. You pressed the button for the elevator repeatedly. It just blinked back at you. You sighed in frustration. They had been doing maintenance on your building all week, but now might have been the absolute worst time to do the elevator.

You shook Katsuki’s shoulder a little bit. His head jostled like a bobble-head. “Suki, I’m gonna need your help here for a minute.”

His head lolled forward, forehead coming down to press to yours. In a quiet voice, he whispered, “I’d do anything for you.”

You shoved him upright, face burning. “Then walk up the damn stairs yourself!”

Despite that, you still ended up half-carrying him up four flights of stairs. You were uncomfortably sweaty when you reached the door to Katsuki’s apartment. The two of you had traded copies of your apartment keys when you had moved in. “In case something happens to your dumb ass and I need to come save you,” He had said. He would frequently stop by, usually when you were hours deep into an all-nighter. He’d bring his laptop and work on whatever 12 page essay way due on your bed while you poured over case reports. You’d sit in silence, just together, sharing the same space, content with nothing more than knowing the other was nearby. Or he’d bring you real food to make sure you weren’t just eating ramen all the time. In turn, you’d pull him out for game night with the squad, make sure he’d actually call his mother once in a while, and lend an ear to his semi-nightly rants on whoever he decided to hate that night.

You fumbled with the keys, jamming the key in the lock then pushing it open with your shoulder that wasn’t currently occupied by a half-asleep, full-drunk boy who had at least 50 pounds and ten inches on you.

There was always an expectation with the rooms of single college boys. Greasy pizza boxes, empty bottles of booze displayed like expensive decor, at least one poster of a half-naked girl somewhere, probably a basket of clothes that should have been washed weeks ago. And while you knew plenty of guys who fit that description, Katsuki defied expectation. His apartment was always immaculate. His shoes were lined neatly by the door, a calendar above his desk color-coded with assignment due dates, bed made. Katsuki may give off the persona of a punk, but you knew he was a straight-laced nerd through and through.

With the last of your strength, you lugged him across the room, dropping him on his bed. With a groan, you stretched your arms up until you heard a satisfying pop in your back. Hands on your hips, you watched as Katsuki moaned, burying his face in his pillow and pulling his feet up from the floor. You sat on the end of the bed, tugging his feet to you to unlace his shoes. You let them fall haphazardly to the floor, too tired to care about his level of neatness.

You grabbed a bucket from his hall closet, putting it next to the head of his bed for when he inevitably woke up vomiting in the morning. Checking his bathroom, you put a couple of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand with a post-it note saying “Drink Me.”

Brushing your hands off, you looked around and checked your work. Satisfied that he wouldn’t kill himself between now and when you would inevitably check on him in the morning, you decided it was finally time to head back upstairs and get some well deserved sleep.

But…

You turned back at the door. Katsuki was splayed like a starfish, gently snoring with his mouth wide open. You also noticed his blushing red fluffy cheeks.

You tapped the door knob a few times before sighing in surrender to temptation and turnin back. You knelt down next to the bed. For a moment, you just watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful now. You reached out. Your index finger sunk into his cheek like it was a marshmallow. You couldn’t believe you had never done this before. God, he really was adorable.

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off as Katsuki’s hand shot up and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip. With a shriek, you tried to scramble backwards. Katsuki lazily opened his eyes, not at all bothered by your struggles. With seemingly no effort on his part, he tugged you forward. Off balance, you fell into his chest. Katsuki wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug, slinging a leg over yours, trapping you on the bed.

“Katsuki!” You hissed. You squirmed in his hold, not getting any extra room. He just hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You were pretty sure your face was hot enough to start a fire. “Katsuki, let me go!”

“No,” He mumbled. His voice rumbled against your skin sending shivers through your whole body.

“Katsuki!”

“You can’t leave. If you leave, you won’t come back.”

You stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?”

He squeezed you tighter. “I’m loud. I get angry real easy. I fight a lot. And you…” He trailed off, his breath catching and rattling in his chest. “You’re so much better than me. You’re nice and smart and talented and pretty and caring and… and…” You could feel the hot tears landing on your skin. He was starting to shake. His grip had loosened enough for you to get out, but instead you brought your arms up and pulled him in closer. “If I let you go, you’ll see how much better you are than me. And you’ll leave. You’ll leave me because you’re better and you deserve so much better. But I’m a selfish bastard and I just want you for myself because I love you so damn much.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You wiggled your hand up, threading your hand into his hair and tilting his head to look up at you.

“I love you too,” You said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Katsuki crushed you to his chest, letting out another loud sob. You could feel hot tears pressing against your eyes. You had no idea Katsuki felt this way about anything; about you, about himself, about your relationship.

But one thing you knew for sure: You loved Bakugou Katsuki.

~~~

The first thing Katsuki noticed when he woke up was the head ache. His head felt like he had a railroad spike jammed through his temples. God, what did he do last night? There was the party at Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. It’d been fine for a while, hanging out with the guys, playing beer pong, winning some extra cash from freshman in poker (where did he put that money anyway?). And then…

And then someone had said your name. He’d heard it across the room, an amazing feat in and of itself, but his ears were trained for any news of you. He’d jerked up right when he heard it, missing his shot at the beer pong table. He gladly took his drink and went prowling through the house. Who had said your name? Were you here? Were you coming?

It might have been selfish, he knew how much you hated loud crowds, but damn it, he wanted you here. He remembered the last Greek life party you had been at. He’d lost you at some point between getting into an argument with that damn Deku and pulling Denki down from a keg stand. He’d finally found you huddled into some back corner, looking like a rabbit about to dart from a hungry fox (he wouldn’t mind being that fox, honestly, he could eat you right up.) You’d lost the color in your face, hands shaking as you clutched your red Solo cup almost hard enough for your nails to pierce the plastic.

He snatched Kirishima by his collar as he carved a path through the room. He planted the extroverted red-head in front of you, creating an extrovert shield between himself and the love of his life you. He’d spent the rest of the night talking to you. Nothing special, he couldn’t even really remember what about. But he did remember the relaxed slope of your shoulders, the spark in your eyes, the smile that played on your lips at whatever lame joke he had just made.

Back in the present (or last night, whatever), he was still stalking through the halls looking for whoever had mentioned you. He heard it again, the tail end of your name, coming from the living room.

“-(/N) never had it so good.” There he was, lounging along the bottom stairs with a smug look on his face as he regaled the small crowd he had attracted. Katsuki recognized him as one of those legacy kids, the one who showed up to the first day of orientation in a sleek black Bugatti and took up three parking spaces, talked in almost every one of his classes when he even bothered to show up, and was, without a doubt at every party on or off campus.

And now he was telling a story about you. What were you ever doing with an asshole like him?

“You would never guess it from how she dresses, you know,” The guy continued, lazily waving his half-empty beer bottle. “But she is stacked.”

Katsuki tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat. He pushed aside the crowd until he stood right in front of the bragger on the stairs. “What did you just say?” He asked through clenched teeth. “You're talking about (Y/N) (L/N), right?”

He lazily swept his gaze up, grinning wide when he saw Katsuki. “Yeah, (Y/N)? You know, she comes across as a frigid bitch, but let me tell you, she’s an incredible lay.” Katsuki’s vision went red. The crowd started to subtly shuffle away, feeling the cold change in atmosphere. “Not much besides that, honestly. Thank god her tits and ass are amazing, cause her face sure wasn’t doing it for me. Super boring, too, heard she’s failing her classes. Oh, well. Hey, I could use a side-piece when I’m running my own firm, you know?”

The asshole never saw it coming. In the span of a heart beat, Katsuki had grabbed his designer jacket and hoisted him off the stairs, pinning him to the wall so his feet kicked to try and reach the ground.

“You listen to me, asshole,” Katsuki hissed. “You never talk about (Y/N) again. You never look at her, you never talk to your shit-stain friends about her, you sure as fuck never tell another lie about her, or so help me, you’ll get to find out what color your liver is.”

Katsuki was half-way sure the jerk had pissed his pants. He dropped him in a heap, landing in the puddle of spilled beer on the floor. He brushed his hand off on his jeans, eager to get whatever germs the gossip had off him.

He was almost out of ear shot when he heard the rich kid spit and say, “Fine. She’s probably crawling with it if you’re dicking her down.”

The kid’s head made a dent in the wall as he richoched back from the impact of Katsuki’s punch. He would easily have a black eye and a broken nose, the chipped tooth would just be a bonus.

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy with rage, stalked through the house, bee-lining it to the nearest source of inebriation. How dare he? How fucking dare that absolute ass-wipe ever even think of saying such horrible things about you? He wasn’t even worth knowing your name, much less saying it. Not to mention the fact he must be blind to think you were anything less than stunning. Ever since he had known you, you had been nothing but kind and smart and caring and funny and…

“Baku-bro, you doing okay?”

Katsuki didn’t realize how tight he was holding his fists until he relaxed. His nails had made half-moon indents in his palms, his knuckles brushed red from the punch.

Kirishima had his mouth pulled down in that stupid puppy dog pout. “I’m fine,” Katsuki brushed him off. He grabbed a beer out of an iced cooler, twisting off the cap in a single motion and chugging half the bottle.

“Well, that’s good, cause I don’t think Tim Flood is making it out of here without a few stitches.”

“Good.” Katsuki finished the beer and chucked it into a recycle bin. He grabbed another and stalked out of the room. Everything felt too hot, too tight. His head was pounding. If you were here, you’d get a bag of ice and press it against his forehead. You’d probably call him an idiot for getting into another fight, that he needed to learn how to manage his temper better. He’d call you a dumbass but let you lead him away somewhere dark and quiet, away from all the other more insufferable dumbasses. You’d find some pain killers, get him some water, because that’s just the kind of caring person you were. Maybe you’d bring him upstairs, lead him to an unoccupied bedroom. The two of you would sit together on the bed, maybe just a little too close. You’d hand him the water, his hand would brush against yours. You’d look down, shy, blushing cutely. He’d lean forward, thread his hand through your incredibly soft hair, angle your face up to him. Your plush lips would part slightly and he’d lean forward and -

“Are you sure you’re good?” Kirishima asked, abruptly cutting off Katsuki’s impromptu fantasy. “Cause you don’t look so good.” Katsuki bit his tongue. “Is it because of what that guy said about (Y/N)?” Katsuki whipped around, glaring daggers. Kirishima smiled and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, bro, it’s okay! No one believed him, anyway.”

Katsuki scoffed, taking a swig of the beer. “(Y/N)’s too good for him anyway.”

“I bet you think (Y/N)’s too good for everyone here, right?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you need to hurry up and tell (Y/N) you like her!” Sero shouted, jumping in out of nowhere.

Katsuki dropped his bottle, Kirishima catching it just in time, and grabbed Sero by the front of his shirt and lifted him up. Sero just grinned his stupid, wide grin.

“Come on, Katsuki,” Denki said, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. “We all know you’ve had a thing for (Y/N) since high school. Why don’t you just put us all out of our misery and tell her already?!”

Katsuki felt his face heat up. “I don’t- I haven’t - Fuck you!” Katsuki couldn’t remember why he was friends with these three idiots as they all burst out into laughter.

He snatched his bottle back and pushed through the crowd. He needed some air. He heard Sero yell after him, “You have to tell her eventually!”

And… That was mostly it. Katsuki’s memories of last night sort of started to trail off after that. He knew that he drank, he drank a lot. At some point he ended up by the pool. And maybe he’d called someone? Oh, hell, he hoped he hadn’t called someone.

His eyes snapped open at the soft groan. There you were, just inches away from his face, fast asleep and tucked in his arms. You were pressed close, breasts pushing against his chest, legs tangled with his, one hand clutching his shirt. Your lips were parted ever so slightly, breathing heavy and even.

And you were so fucking close.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His arms tightened around you and he tensed. How the hell did this happen? Did you actually come to the party last night? When, and why? What had called you down there-?

Oh. Oh, the call! He had called you last night? Some time in his drunken haze he must have figured out to bypass the timed lock he had put on it specifically to avoid calling people with a too-honest tongue. But had you…? Nervously, he looked down. He sighed in relief. You were both still dressed. At least that was one mistake he knew he hadn’t made.

Alright, that was one problem. Now, on to the next one: How was he going to get out of here without waking you up? Craning his head around, he checked out the room. Wait, this was his room. He was in his apartment! A picture of last night started to form in his mind. He’d called you, blabbering God knows what, and then you’d been a good person (why were you such a good person?) and had come to get him, to make sure he was okay. And then what? He’d somehow seduced you into his bed? No, it was more likely you had stayed to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, maybe sat on the bed because it was the middle of the night and you were exhausted, and then… This.

Okay, okay, no, this was fine, he could fix this. He could slip out, let you keep sleeping. He’d make some breakfast in the kitchen and then you’d wake up, wander in rubbing the sleep from your eyes in that cute way you did when you pulled an all-nighter studying. He’d chastise you for lugging his drunk ass up here, for being out so late at night. You’d wave him off, compliment his cooking, tell him to take better care of himself, and then smile up at him with that blindingly beautiful smile and sparkling eyes.

“Morning.” Katsuki yelped at your greeting. He stared, wide-eyed, down at you, as you look back up at him lazily with those sparkling eyes. “It’s kinda hard to breathe here.” He realized then just how tight he was holding you. He jerked backward, his shout of surprise cut off as he fell off the bed. He rubbed his sore hip, looking up when he heard your giggle. You were leaning over the bed, smiling shyly when he caught you staring.

He gulped hard, feeling his face burning up. “Hi.”

You tucked a loose threat of hair behind your ear. “Hi.”

He should say something. He needed to say something. God, why wasn’t he saying something?

“I-“ Katsuki stopped with an incomplete thought in his mouth. He suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, his stomach clenching and throat going dry. Your face dropped as you lunged forward, dragging a bucket in front of him (where did that even come from?). He surged forward, clenching the sides of the bucket in a white knuckled grip, and threw up.

You slid off the bed and knelt next to him. You rubbed small circles in his back, whispering small comforts as he coughed up bile and alcohol and who knows what else. You reached over behind him and grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand.

“Here,” You said. “Rinse and spit. Don’t swallow or gargle, it’ll just mess with your gag reflex.” Rubbing the spike of pain growing in his forehead, he did what you said. When he caught his breath, he accepted the pain killers you had and dry swallowed them. You really had prepared for everything, huh?

Katsuki shoved the bucket away with his foot, leaning back against the bed. “Fuck…”

You hummed in response and scooted to sit next to him. “So,” You said.

“So,” He said back.

“I don’t suppose you remember much from last night?”

He clenched his jaw, mouth going dryer than it already was, if that was possible. He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and strained, even to him. “Hey, we’re both still wearing pants, right?” You didn’t laugh back.

“So that’s a no then?” The seriousness with which you said that made him pause.

“I, uh, think I called you?”

“MmHmm. You didn’t sound too great, so I came to pull you out.”

“Huh. Thanks for that.”

“Yup.” You paused for a second. “Do you remember… anything else you said?”

Fuck.

“Uhh, I owe you breakfast?”

You looked away. “Is there anything you maybe told Sero that you wouldn’t want him to tell me?”

Double fuck.

“If this is about Halloween last year, Mina was the one who brought the Ouija board.” He smirked at you, waiting for you to laugh with him. Instead you didn’t even look up, staring a hole in the carpet with the intensity of your gaze.

You let out a sigh through your nose, pushing off your knees to stand. “I’m gonna head out,” You said, rubbing the back of your head and still not looking at him.

Katsuki jumped up, immediately regretting as his head began swimming. “(Y/N), wait-“ He cut himself off with another surge of nausea and lurched towards the bucket.

“Katsuki,” You said, sounding frustrated. “Look, I…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and turning back to him. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, right? And for all the time I’ve known you, you’ve been stubborn and pig-headed and aggressive and just, you know, you. But still, in all that time, despite everything, I still…” You pressed your lips, looking for the right words. “I’m happy when I’m around you, Katsuki. I feel at ease, I feel protected, I feel like I can be better at anything. And I’ve thought about this a lot, so much that it makes my head spin and my heart hurt, but through all the trouble I still think it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day it means I still get to be with you and sometimes I just feel like that’s enough, but now I…” Your lip was trembling, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to take a big step forward and wrap you in the biggest, tightest hug of your life. Finally, you sighed in defeat. “But if you can’t say it, if the One and Only Katsuki Bakugou can’t say it, then how the hell can I?”

Your voice broke on the last word. Katsuki was so stunned and suddenly pinned with guilt that he couldn’t move when you spun on your heels and rushed out of his apartment.

Oh, fuck.

~~~

“Idiot,” You murmured to yourself as you fled up the apartment stairs, furiously wiping at your eyes to get rid of the oncoming tears. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.” By the time you reached your apartment and slammed the door behind you, you weren’t sure if you were talking about Katsuki or yourself.

You felt sick. Anxiety gnawed at your mind like a starving coyote. Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki? Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki like that? Would he ever speak to you again? Would things just become too awkward that you’d be edged out of your friend group? They had known Katsuki much longer than they had known you, after all. God, what if he was calling Kirishima right now and telling him about the disaster of a morning, after you had taken advantage of his blitz out state and slept in the same bed with him?

Well, no. Kirishima was probably still knocked out from his own night of heavy imbibing. Not to mention that even he, the most kind-hearted and patient person you knew, would have to draw a line at listening to Katsuki rant while dealing with a massive hangover.

And no, Katsuki wouldn’t do that to you. Despite his rough deminor, his abrasive personality, and his profane tongue, Katsuki was actually a sweetheart deep down. Maybe really deep down, but still. He wouldn’t be so intentionally cruel, even if you told him that you shared all of his baby pictures of him playing in his All Might onesie online.

So then why were you still huddled on a heap on the floor, back pressed against the front door, crying? Why was this pit of loneliness blooming in your chest?

You yelped at the sudden banging on the door. Who could be here so early in the morning? You had paid rent this month, right? You sniffed, rubbing your eyes and smoothing out your clothes. You hoped your cheeks weren’t the blotchy red they got whenever you were upset. You took a deep breath to steady your voice for whoever was outside.

Opening the door, you looked up at a wide-eyed Katsuki, panting hard with determination set on his face. You groaned internally.

“Katsuki,” You began,” About what I said, I’m sorr-”

Without waiting for you to finish, Katsuki surged forward. You tried to take a step backward, almost falling, but he caught you, a strong grip on your shoulders. Without waiting for you to get your bearings, Katsuki leaned in, smashing his lips against yours.

It wasn’t a graceful kiss, all clashing teeth and urgency rather than romance. His eyes were screwed closed. He stayed pressed against you, not moving, grip so tight on your upper arms you thought there might be a mark later.

Just as suddenly as he had come forward, he jerked back, but kept his hold on you. You both breathed heavily, eyes locked. Your mind whirled, a hundred voices shouting at the same time. For once, you decided to ignore them and let your body do what it wanted.

You reached up, wrapping your arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulled him back in. This kiss was controlled, soft and sweet. His hands dropped from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. He pressed in harder, adding desperation in the kiss, as if he thought you would vanish any second. When you both pulled away this time, he leaned his forehead against yours, noses bumping into each other, sharing the same breath.

His voice was rough. “Sorry,” He said. “I had to brush my teeth first.”

#bnha #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #reader insert #fanfic #bakugo x reader #wafflefriesfic

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joannechocolat · 5 months

Text

Content Warning: contains scenes of graphic kindness; wokery; tolerance; profanity.

A few days ago, I posted a little Twitter poll, asking readers (and authors) what they thought of trigger warnings. I followed this up with a short thread, outlining my own thoughts on this, and how they have changed over the years.

The Daily Mail immediately seized the idea, and without contacting me, or asking for further clarification, published an article quoting my words, under a headline that was both inflammatory and untrue: Trigger warnings should be put on EVERY book to make readers feel 'safe', Chocolat author Joanne Harris says.

Predictably, this caused a frenzy of reaction from Daily Mail readers and Twitter trolls, including accusations of censorship and “pandering to moronic snowflakes”. Several people (who I suspect, have never even picked up one of my books) swore never to read them. One charmer wrote: “Fucking pathetic. What a dick the author must be.”

I don’t blame the writer of the article; most clickbait headlines are added by someone else - in this case, by someone who couldn’t even be bothered to read the article, let alone my original thread. It has since been quietly changed, presumably in response to my comments, although once again, without any communication with me. But as a result of these comments (and some more polite ones from people asking about the poll), I think it’s time I made it clear, both where I stand on trigger warnings, and why the public perception of them, fuelled by culture wars debates, is both skewed and inaccurate.

First, the result of my poll: about 35% of the people who answered were in favour of some kind of content warning. About 30% were against, and the rest were undecided, curious about the result. To me this suggests that most people are generally positive or undecided on the subject. From the comments, it seemed to me that many of the people who were against trigger warnings were afraid they might lead to censorship, or spoilers, or editing of the classics, or stopping people from reading the classics, or authors losing the right to free speech.

But here's the thing. Trigger warnings are nothing to do with those things. Here’s why people have been misled, and why it matters to put things straight.

First, this expression; “triggered.” Like “woke” and “snowflake” it has been weaponized to mean something like “upsetting the libs.” Reader, that's not what it means. The concept of triggering only applies to someone with PTSD or some kind of serious psychological trauma. That makes it irrelevant to politics. Anyone can have trauma. Anyone is potentially vulnerable to mental illness. And that’s why trigger warnings exist; to warn people who might suffer a relapse, or some other kind of serious harm, if exposed without warning to certain images, scenes or narrative strands. Some of the obvious ones might be sexual violence; graphic images; mental illness; eating disorders; suicide. I’m sure there are lots more. But we’ve had content warnings (if you prefer) on films for decades without any resistance, and TV shows routinely flag up scenes with flashing images, etc. that might trigger (that word again) an epileptic seizure in anyone susceptible.

And yes, it makes sense. I mean, why would you want someone to have a seizure if you could just warn them against it? Who but a sadist would argue that people with epilepsy should be forced to have seizures, or that having regular seizures will make them more resilient somehow, or that people afraid to have seizures should just stop watching films and TV altogether, or that warnings against flashing lights would somehow spoil other people’s enjoyment of the show? And yet those are all things that people have said to me recently about content warnings.

To me content warnings in books are like content warnings on packaged food. Most people don’t read them, unless they have a special interest or need to know. Why do they need to know? There might be any number of reasons. Maybe they’re vegan, and want to avoid eating animal products. Maybe they have a religious dietary restriction. Maybe they have a mild allergy to peanuts or to shellfish. Or maybe it’s a more a serious allergy that could even result in their death. Either way, details are useful. Content warnings in books are the same, except that instead of triggering a physical attack, certain things trigger a mental one.

I'm not talking here about things that might simply cause offence. I sometimes use profanity in my books; I sometimes write about topics that people may find challenging. That's not going to change. I won't add content warnings for swearing, or nudity, or paganism, or LGBT issues. None of those things cause trauma, though I'm willing to believe they may in some cases cause offence.

But mental trauma is just as real as any physical injury. It’s not just “in your head”. It requires adjustments in the same way that any other condition may require adjustments - whether that's a wheelchair ramp, or subtitles on TV, or studs on the pavement to help the blind.

And yet, the culture wars narrative – led by a right-wing media - is leaning increasingly towards a “survival of the fittest” mentality; repeatedly encouraging able-bodied people to question disability, white people to question racism, rich people to question poverty, and urging those who have never experienced mental trauma to dismiss the needs of those who struggle with it daily. Empathy and kindness are presented as political gestures, earning “woke points” (whatever they are), rather than the elements of basic human decency. And of course, people who talk about “decency” in the context of nudity, LGBT issues and profanity often see no problem in labelling themselves “anti-woke”, or sneering at the “Be Kind brigade”, or making dismissive judgments about the lives of people they will never know. Somewhere along the line, somehow, basic human kindness has been reframed as a tool of the left, and those who hold right-wing opinions are encouraged to reject it.

Well, fuck that. People are better than this. Some people need content warnings, and it’s not up to you or me to decide whether their need is valid or not. That’s why, from now on, I’ll be adding including content warnings to my books, and to my author website. Ignore them or not, as you choose.

But to those who are offended by the concept of inclusion, here’s a trigger warning just for you: Contains tolerance; scenes of moderate kindness; depictions of graphic wokery. Read my books at your peril. Or don’t. Isn’t freedom marvellous?

#writing #trigger warnings

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suhnflowerstay · 5 months

Text

game night

mark lee x afab!reader

a/n: this is based on a real life situation so it might not be super relatable (no description of what reader looks like besides the fact that they’re afraid of sitting on his lap)

and it is not representative of any characteristics the idols have or anything lol it does require the knowledge of Jackbox Games. quiplash is a game where you get a prompt and you anonymously write down what you think is the funniest answer and everyone votes for the funniest one. i'm posting this twice because i originally wrote it for mark but my sister thought it was well suited for chan as well soooo yeah!

wc: 2.9k

tags: toxic situationship vibes (like really toxic), smoking (barely mentioned, high emotions, angst, smut, sad ending

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

You and Mark had known each other for a few years. You had initially met on vacation and got each other's contact information to keep in touch. You were talking all the time and FaceTiming nearly every day. You were friends, such close friends that you decided to go to the same university. Once you moved to his area for college, you were spending all your time with each other. Eventually, the sexual tension between you began to build and before you knew it, your situationship began.

A few months before your friends with benefits relationship with Mark began, he had been sharing with you how messy his previous arrangement went. You had seen other girls come and go because they could never handle him sticking by his word and refusing to commit to them. You were also not interested in commitment, so you felt comfortable going into it. You knew exactly who you were friends with, so you assumed you would be fine. You were just friends who had a sexual attraction to each other. There was no reason that having sex would have to complicate things, right? Wrong.

Yes, there are people who can have a healthy friends with benefits style relationship. Sex is easy to detach from for some more than others. Your relationship with Mark was anything but detached. You were best friends who had sex, and the gray area was extremely gray. You were practically dating without the label, and that brought a lot of negative feelings bubbling up. But you both didn't want commitment. You were terrified of being vulnerable in that way and he, well… he just loved the attention.

Mark's cousin Haechan was hosting a game night with some friends, and Mark wanted you to come along and meet everyone. When you two arrived at Haechan’s house, you introduced yourself, and the first words out of Haechan's mouth were:

“Are you the one that called on Christmas?”

Immediately, Mark jumped into action to try to shut Haechan up. He stood in front of you and blocked Haechan from view, mumbling, “No, that was someone else.” You knew he had a previous situationship leading up to your situationship with him; this was no secret. You knew this because you were the one to talk him through the end of that relationship. You just hadn't realized how intense it must've been if Mark was bringing that "friend with benefits" to meet the family.

You had small talk with Haechan, asking him what his major was, and he asked yours. He offered you drinks and snacks, and you took a seat on the sectional with Mark taking the seat right next to you. You two were in your own little world, giggling about god knows what while he had his arm around you, when all of a sudden the door behind you swings open.

“MARK PLEASE TELL ME YOU HAVE DONE THE ENGINEERING HOMEWORK!” the disheveled boy yelled. You giggled because of how insane this random man appeared with his backpack barely slung over his shoulder, hair a mess, running up to take a seat on the couch diagonal to you two.

“Y/N, this is Jaemin. Jaemin, this is Y/N.”

Jaemin’s brain is going a million miles an hour, and the first thing he thinks to ask is:

“Are you two dating?”

You and Mark look at each other, and he says, “No, we’re just friends.”

“Oh," Jaemin says, "Well, it looks like you two are dating.”

Jaemin proceeds to talk to Mark about whatever homework they had, and his whole demeanor has you nearly falling off the couch with how hard he has you laughing. He has major himbo energy and says everything with so much passion. At one point, he ends a story he's telling with, “WHATEVER FUCKOOO!”

Soon, more of Haechan and (kind of) Mark's friends start showing up. A tall guy who catches your eye greets you. He says his name is Johnny and makes light conversation with you, asking how you know Mark and Haechan and asking how long you've lived in the city. Two guys walk in who are semi-shy and kind of just talking to each other. Mark tells you they're younger and more on the shy side, especially with people they don't know. They are, however, ready to play games and are super impatient, not willing to wait for the rest of the group. There are also three guys in the corner smoking, waiting for more people to show up. One of them catches your eye as his dimples are on display while giggling with his friends. Eventually, the rest of the group shows up, and the party can begin.

Haechan loads up Jackbox Games, and your group plays Trivia Murder Party for a few rounds, and then, a guy named Yuta says he thinks the group should play Quiplash. There are a few rounds where you make some pretty good jokes, and all of the guys hype you up, telling Mark he brought someone super funny to game night. You even make a quip at Mark's expense, and Jaemin high-fives you. At this point, you've had a few drinks, and you aren't drunk, just tipsy. But you absolutely need to pee. You ask Mark where the bathroom is, since this is his cousin's house, and Mark leads you to the bathroom, waiting for you outside the door. Once you’re done, he drags you to the empty bedroom across from the bathroom and lays back on the bed, pulling you down you on top of him.

“Are you having fun?” he looks up at you.

“Mhm," you hum, "are you?”

“Yeah."

"Your friends are nice. Jaemin's super funny. I can't believe he's real,” you giggle.

"Yeah, he is... ok, c'mon. Let’s go back before they think we’re having sex or something," he says abruptly. You thought his response was weird, but you didn't think too much about it.

Upon returning to the living room, you see your seat on the couch was stolen by a few of the guys, and you are now forced to sit on a recliner in the corner to watch the game from there. There’s only one seat though, so you just stand while Mark takes the seat.

“What are you doing?" he questions, "Come on. Sit down.”

You pause. “I-I'm okay. I don’t want to like hurt your legs or anyth-”

Mark pulls you down on his lap, so you’re forced to sit down on him. He asks if you want to smoke, and you take a singular hit, not really interested in doing that, and watch the game from afar. Jaemin has his eyes trained on you two, and you feel his stare. You turn to look at him, and he yells from across the room, “Are you sure you guys aren’t dating?”

You giggle saying, "Yes, we’re sure we aren’t dating."

He tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy and proceeds to ask “So, are you guys cousins?” and you cannot stop yourself from keeling over because what does he MEAN?? What kind of line of questioning is that? Why would his brain jump from dating to cousins? You look at Mark incredulously as you both laugh and confirm once again that you are just friends.

You two keep watching the game, rather than participate, and go back to your own little world until Mark decides he’s ready to go home. You follow him out, saying a single goodbye to everyone in the room. Everyone bids you goodbye in their own way with many of the guys saying how nice it was to meet you and how you should definitely come to game night again. You two walk out and Mark unlocks the car before remembering he has to go back in to get something from Haechan. You sit and wait in the car, smiling to yourself, and text your best friend about game night. You make sure to mention the beautiful man you met and how funny it was that he asked if you and Mark were cousins.

Once he enters the car, he slides his hand onto your thigh.

“Did you have fun?” he asks, leaning in to give you a kiss.

“Yes, actually. I really didn't think I would, but that was so nice and all of your friends seem so cool! Jaemin is such a himbo it’s so funny... I can’t believe you guys are taking the same classes.” you add.

You don't notice, but Mark's hand clenches the steering wheel. He doesn’t say anything and begins the drive home. You stop by the grocery store on your way home to pick up some snacks, and everything between you and Mark seems pretty light hearted.

You get back to Mark’s place, shower, and change into pajamas. You two sit on the couch for a bit longer watching shows and just snacking, cuddled up together. You get up to go to the restroom, leaving your phone behind on the coffee table, and when you come back, Mark is in a noticeably different mood. His body language is tense, and he’s moved away from your original spot.

“Markie… what’s wrong?” you ask, still standing.

“Nothing. What are you talking about?”

“It just seems like... like there’s something bothering you,” you insisted.

“Why would anything be bothering me? You’re literally making something out of nothing!” he snapped.

Now, you're officially in a bad mood.

“Fine then! Forget I even asked,” you huffed, collapsing onto the opposite side of the couch to go through your phone.

Half an hour later, your anger has subsided, and you're back to being invested in the show you’re watching. Then, the leading man betrays his love interest.

“Ughhhhhh," you drone, "Why does every man suck? Like even him? You have to be joking.”

“I bet Jaemin would never do that…” Mark mumbled mockingly from his side of the couch.

“What the actual fuck did you just say?” you snarled.

“Nothing.”

“Please do not fucking tell me that you’re upset over Jaemin, a man I only just met a few hours ago,” you scoffed.

“Oh, so you’re counting the hours,” Mark said, not even looking at you.

“Mark, shut the fuck up! What are you saying right now? What is your deal? I don’t even know or care about Jaemin!”

“You sure seemed to care when you texted your friend about how hot and funny you thought he was,” he said, finally looking up at you to see your reaction.

“Motherfucker, you went through my phone? Again? Are you fucking joking? Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t! I saw you texting it,” he tried to say, but you knew that was a lie because you had texted your friend right when you got into the car. He absolutely went through your phone, but this was not the first time.

“You’re a fucking liar, Mark. I know you didn’t see me texting it. And either way, what does it matter to you? Newsflash! In case you weren't aware, I’m not your girlfriend! You made sure of it, and you also made sure everyone knew that tonight!”

Mark scoffed, “What did you want me to say to them? 'Oh yeah we’re fucking’?”

“it doesn’t matter what you say to them because we aren’t anything. And that means you don’t get to be upset over me texting my friend that i thought your friend was attractive," you emphasize, "You’ve done far worse or would you like me to remind you about your sexting with Winter or sending good morning and goodnight texts to Arin when you couldn’t even find two seconds to text me back even if it was just to let me know you were busy?"

Mark sits there knowing he can't say anything to that.

"You have even less of a right to be upset because of all the shit you pull all of the time, so I’m not going to apologize for sending my friend one text about a cute boy I will probably never see again." you finish.

“So you would want to see him again?” he tries to say steadily, but his voice cracks.

You look up and see that Mark is looking at the ground now and has tears in his eyes.

“Mark…” you put your arm around him and embrace him.

“I get it, though, like he’s so much more than I could ever be," he sniffles, "He’s so funny without even trying, and he’s just so cute and attractive and everything about him screams 'y/n's type.' I don’t blame you for being interested.”

He pushes himself up to lock eyes with you. “It’s only you, you know? I know you saw the texts or whatever with other girls, but I only care about you. No one else could ever be you. I promise that at the end of the day, no matter what, I only want you.”

He looks down at your lips and hesitates before he kisses you. The kiss starts off slow and slowly progresses into a more passionate, needy one. Mark is grabbing at your hips, your stomach, your arms, whatever he can get a grip on. He starts whining and pulls away, “Please take off your clothes, sweetheart. I need you.”

You both strip down in his living room. Mark carefully lays you down on the couch and lines himself up with your pussy before slowly pushing himself in all the way without any issue. You guess high intensity and emotional situations just make you wet now after all the arguments you've had with this man.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight," he praises, "You always make me feel so big. it always feels like the first time.”

You moan and beg Mark to move, and slowly, he does. While there’s still a desperate neediness in the air, Mark is moving slowly and intentionally. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours while caressing your body. He praises every inch of you that he touches, littering you with compliments. He traces a finger along every curve and focuses on tracing circles on your tits, teasing your nipple ever so slightly before finally taking the buds between his fingers. He squeezes them, eliciting moans from your "pretty little mouth" as he calls it. He keeps one hand focused on your breast while he uses the other arm to hold himself up as he leans down to kiss you, maintaining the slow but steady rhythm. You wrap your legs and arms around him, pinning him to your chest. This position makes it so much more intimate, and you swear that he's hitting even deeper. The combination is pushing you right up to the edge. By the way Mark starts moaning, you can tell he feels the same.

“Fuck baby, I'm so close,” he groans

“Please cum inside me, Mark. I need it so bad.”

“Ugh, f-fuck, beautiful, I can’t until you do. Please cum with me baby and- fuck- and I’ll fill you up as much as you want.”

His words send you over the edge, catapulting you into a strong radiating orgasm. Your hands are grasping at his arms and back, leaving scratches in their wake, you're sure. It’s very different from what you’ve previously experienced, muted but long lasting, and you can feel it all over. Your orgasm triggers his, and he continues to fuck you through it until the overstimulation becomes too much. He pulls out of you and grabs some wipes to wipe you and himself down. He lays you down in bed and makes his way to lay down right alongside you. He sits up and places his hand on your cheek, turning your head to make you look at him.

“I-" he hesitated, "I’m sorry I went through your phone again,” he says, rubbing his thumb back and forth along your cheekbone.

“It’s okay, Mark,” you reassure him.

“I just- I knew you’d like him. I could tell from the way you were looking at him and how he was looking at you. That kid is never interested in other people’s relationships. I knew he was asking if we were dating, so he could ask you out, and it made me freak out," he sighs.

“You have no way of knowing that, Markie,” you reason.

“Regardless, I meant what I said. I know we aren’t official, but I'm only loyal to you.”

He lays back down, and you say nothing.

You say nothing because this is a conversation you have often.

You say nothing because as much as you want to commit to Mark, you probably also aren’t ready.

You say nothing because the previous statement is probably a lie you tell yourself to make yourself feel better in this relationship you have with him.

You say nothing because you know there will be more instances of you finding text messages with other girls in which he gives them more compliments/attention/time than he gives you.

You say nothing because you know he isn’t loyal to you at all, and you’d rather not start another fight tonight.

You say nothing because there is nothing here to fight for.

You say nothing as he falls asleep in your arms, and you see his phone light up with a text.

jaemin: yo so is your friend single

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northernsiberiawinds · 1 year

Text

Thief.

Hi @nonvme how are you?

I usually solve such issues in personal messages with the authors to give them the opportunity to simply apologize and not repeat their mistakes, but this situation has upset me a lot, because I wrote to you in the comments a few months ago, but you never answered me (your private messages are closed).

You steal my textures and call it your own, as well as sell it on your patreon without any permission and credits.

Let's start from the beginning.

1. https://www.patreon.com/posts/sakira-skin-and-67386343

“credits: obscurus-sims, lamatisse, and google lol” — absolutely no mention of me, it's amazing, because it's almost entirely my texture.

“Do not claim as your own, I work way too hard to have somebody else try to claim my stuff“ — It's so nice to ask to respect your work when you don't respect someone else's.

Do I need to comment on something? She just took my skin n7, added a couple of details on face and called it her own. And she put it in early access on her patreon to make money on already free сс. She listed other authors in the credits and didn't mention anything about me.

2. https://www.patreon.com/posts/precious-skin-75050799

“Do not claim as your own, I work way too hard to have somebody else try to claim my stuff“ — and again. The duplicity of this man never ceases to amaze me.

Here she changed a bit more, but she used my skin's face as a base. And again, no mention of me in the credits.This time she didn't mention credits at all, but I see at least @obscurus-sims details.

“Credits to Slephora, Obscurus, and Pinterest for all respective bits and pieces” — okay.

And again, no difference. The textures are identical.

Honey, if a person wants to use my eyelids, he just uses it. There is no need to put my cc in early access again, which has been free for three years.

I want to say that I create my textures completely from scratch, without using EA blanks. Absolutely all the details on my skins are created by me. And as an artist, I can say with confidence that it is impossible to create a texture that will match someone else's pixel by pixel. It's impossible. Moreover, most of my textures are completely drawn by me. What refs from the Internet is she talking about? Did you take refs out of my head? By Bluetooth?

@nonvme you can still apologize and I won't hold a grudge against you. Just apologize and remove my textures from your page. If you had answered me a few months ago and corrected your mistakes, then I would not have written this post and would not have spoiled your reputation. But you didn't answer me.

I'm sorry that you all had to read so much text. I hope your day is going much better than mine.

P.S. I had to re-post to remove some 18+ pieces from the skins.

UPD 15/06/23

Guys! Thank you so much for all your words of support! This is really very important to me. I didn't even expect you all to support me so much. I don't have enough words to express my gratitude to all of you 😢❤️!!!

Nonvme deleted CC that included my textures, and also promised not to use it anymore. It's enough for me to forget about this incident and don't contact patreon support.

I want to add that any author who makes his textures from scratch knows every pixel of his texture. The author of the original content will know if you have used his texture, even if you have somehow modified it. If you steal other people's textures and you haven't been caught yet, it only means that the author hasn't seen your page/cc yet, because he can't monitor the entire Internet. But one day he will find out about you, do not doubt.

#ts4 #s4cc #ts4cc #the sims 4 news

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respectthepetty · 9 months

Text

Wild Ass Theory - Who is the Second Killer?

@anotherblblog asked about the colors in Dead Friend Forever as a response to my Phi is Sus AF post where I listed the reasons I think Phi is in on the kills since they think White is sus too, but I cannot answer questions about White/colors because . . .

Who the fuck is this?!

Freeze frame: Is this Tee?!

Well, it sure isn't Non (Barcode) taking off the mask!

In the original film the boys were shooting and the one played at the party, Non was the killer who unmasked himself.

But apparently, Non wasn't the only one playing a killer.

There were two killers.

This is why we see Jin and Non running in the opening scene because they are being chased by the second killer in the film.

So who is the second killer?

Just like with the original film, the second killer isn't some magical ninth person, but someone already in the group, and in the recreated scene, there is a person missing.

Tan!

Tan and Phi didn't come into the friend group until 12th grade, and White is the baby of the group, so he was too young to hang out with the core friend group until he started dating Tee (way to already start pissing off Tee by holding his man's hand, Phi).

So Phi, Tan, and White are new to all of this and weren't part of the original incident that happened in the 11th grade, but White is now playing Non's part in the film by running away from the masked killer with Jin. Yes? Yes!

From the trailer, we got this scene. Phi, Tee, and Tan are all standing in a bloody room that has hanging signs stating "He Must Die" in Thai with a fourth person, who could either be White or Jin.

And we got the scene of Phi keeping Jin quiet in a box as the killer lurks around them.

So it seems like the final girl boy in the "He Must Die" scene is Jin and not White based on the jacket he is wearing, and

Because Jin is the target.

He is the main character.

And he is about to leave. For. Ev. Er.

Which is something Tan throws out when agreeing with Phi to reshoot the film.

And White is the final push for Tee to agree to it.

From the trailer, we know Non had feelings for Jin, and those feelings seemed mutual.

But Tee is the worst.

And somehow convinced everyone that Non was creepy and should be bullied.

So if Jin was the main character and Tee was possibly the second killer and main bully, it makes sense why they would be saved for last since Non wrote this story,

Yet Por, the first one attacked, is the one credited as writing it, so by reshooting it, the killers are going to correct the wrongs and follow the script the way Non originally wrote it.

Which is why I thought White was the other killer since he is now playing Non's part and Phi asked Tan if he brought his inhaler while he was smoking, which seems like a quick way to kill him in the future, BUT . . .

It doesn't seem like White was supposed to be on this trip in the first place. Tee brought him because he thought White "would be obedient" but he doesn't want White involved in what is happening, and it seems neither do the killers.

When all hell broke loose, Phi went with Jin to look for a saw and sent White and Tan to call for help ensuring that Jin was under his watchful eye and that White and Tan, two people who weren't involved in the original incident, were out of the woods, literally and metaphorically. But Tan seemed surprised that White got the walkie talkie working, while White was confused because all he did was charge it.

The conversation is odd in multiple ways but mostly because Tan is smiling the entire time knowing that their dear friend Por is still out in the woods with a tree limb sticking out of his stomach. But then again, Tan is closer to Phi than anyone else, which is why Jin told Phi to go have sex with Tan.

Which is why I fully believe, after one whole episode, that Tan and Phi are just friends . . .

who plot murders together.

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #please don't disappoint me #I need another good thriller #I know the rules #and these boys already lost #there are two of them #never just one #I don't think this is supernatural #this is personal

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fractualized · 2 months

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Today in "I know we bust on comics a lot around here but there are still plenty of comics worth your time," I think Robin Lives is off to a promising start!

Also, I have to say, I found myself comparing it to Three Jokers. For one thing, it seems like much more of an examination of trauma than Three Jokers was purported to be. For another, while Three Jokers had me doubting that Geoff Johns really read The Killing Joke, Robin Lives feels like JM DeMatteis gives a crap about what actually happened in "Death in the Family."

But my petty grudges aside, here's what I liked about Robin Lives #1, with lots of spoilers. (And images of child murder and such, obviously.)

Unless there are shenanigans later, Joker definitely dies on the very first page.

Falls at Bruce's feet. Aw. :(

So this presents to us an instant mystery! Was Bruce responsible? Or was it Jason? Someone else entirely? Looks like the answer will be in three more issues. For now, we flash back to the aftermath of Jason's near-death.

DeMatteis deals with Joker's infamous ambassadorship by simply… taking it away. Which is pretty funny to me.

"Honestly, we were coming off a pretty wild party when we made that decision. Who knows what we were thinking? Hahaha, no hard feelings, right— What's that gas??"

I should note the narration in the purple box, which starts before this scene. Halfway through the issue, we learn that this story is being narrated by Dr. Saraswati Dev (aka Sara), a trauma doctor that Bruce hires for Jason. As we read what happens in this deviation from canon, she examines how we should view people who do such terrible things when their own lives and actions are affected by mental illness, their own trauma, and so on. It's an admittedly blunt story-telling tactic, spelling out the nuance for the reader, but I don't mind it, and it tells us that this version of Jason's story won't end cleanly.

Sara also clearly knows much more about Batman and his sidekicks than the average civilian, which raises the question of how she gets so involved in their lives. I'm hoping it's not because she becomes a love interest… but then again if that's presented as one of Bruce's screwed up mistakes, that has potential!

Anyway, as reviewed in a previous post, Joker was uneasy about killing Jason from the start, and that doesn't change in this version. When Bruce rescues the Iranian representatives, Joker tries to downplay what he did.

Hee hee, "Batsy-boo."

Joker can't escape for long, though.

And I have to pause here to note that this scene is reminiscent of the climax in the "Going Sane" storyline, which DeMatteis also wrote.

[Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #68]

There are differences in the scenarios, of course, but the other thing about "Going Sane" is that Joker/Joseph repeatedly refers to the urge to return to his former self as drowning.

[Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #66]

So in Robin Lives, it adds an extra kick when Bruce overturns Joker's boat and then stands by as Joker drowns.

Oh god that feeling when your secret fears come to fruition

But don't worry!

This is all an interesting variation "Death in the Family." Then, in his grief, Bruce was constantly fluctuating on if he was going to kill Joker, and his eventual attempt was trapping Joker in a crashing helicopter. In Robin Lives, he seems ambivalent too, again engineering the circumstances for Joker to die but not being an entirely active participant, and also not angry at Clark for rescuing him. (Speaking of which, Clark sure as heck didn't rescue Joker from the original helicopter incident. I guess he's ambivalent in his own way!)

So Joker is returned to Arkham Asylum, where Bruce talks to the current director, Dr. Benjamin Stoner (who evidently really was the director at the time but also a literal agent of chaos??? OK I guess I'll keep that in mind). Stoner pushes back on Bruce's assessment of the Joker.

At the time, Bruce vanishes, but as we see in the narration when Bruce faildads hard with a recovering Jason, he later seems to reflect on Stoner's words along with Jason's.

Jason appears at the start of the issue in the hospital, but we finally get into it with him in the second half. He keeps withdrawing from Bruce and Alfred, so Dick appears to provide some emotional support.

The page already notes that, no, this chat is not going to be enough to get Jason back to baseline. But it's also darkly hilarious that Dick thought it would be, especially keeping in mind that the implication is that this is the only time Dick comes over, and it's after Jason has been listless for some time. It's almost like this whole family is bad at feelings.

But Bruce does finally hire a professional, our narrator.

Of course, Jason overhears their discussion and thinks Bruce is planning to send him away.

Ouch.

Jason decides to prove that he's totally fine, actually, by saving a gala from Scarecrow by himself. Did you guess that he gets hit with fear toxin? Because yeah, they always get hit with fear toxin!

Oh my god he just wanted his mom to save him 😭

OH GOD FOR A SECOND I FORGOT IT WAS FEAR TOXIN

I should take a second to jump back and note that Jason imagining Joker getting one right between the eyes, just like we saw at the start, feels like a solid indication that in the end, he will definitely be Joker's killer... but, well, you really don't know until it happens.

So Jason is out of commission, but before Scarecrow can kidnap him for interrogation, Batman finally shows up. Bruce beats the everloving crap out of Crane, obviously still consumed with anger about what happened in Ethiopia. The freaking cops have to ask him to stop.

And then the final page is just more of the saddest of sadtimes.

I do love that first narrative detail in the top panel. Bruce is feeling angry and guilty but also humiliated and ashamed. He knows Jason is a vulnerable kid who needs help, but as always, Jason also represents Bruce's personal failures. He couldn't get Jason to do exactly as he was told. He couldn't protect Jason from harm. He couldn't maintain the image of Batman as invulnerable, not with this terrified boy shaking on the ground. Bruce does not have control.

It's very human, and it's a key ingredient in whatever disaster is to come. Even if we didn't have Sara's final questions in the last two panels, we can already tell that Bruce is going to continue to make not-great choices.

I've already ordered #2, and I'm looking forward to reading what DeMatteis has in store in the next three issues. Barbara has to make an appearance, right? And she'd be a great candidate for the shooter...

#batjokes #batman #bruce wayne #joker #jason todd #robin #robin lives #my jibber-jabber

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dduane · 1 year

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Ok so

1. I’ve only ever read one book you wrote (So You Want To Be a Wizard) but it was very good and I love it. Big fan.

2. Both out of curiosity and on behalf of my sister, as a writer of Barbie Fairytopia, did you invent Bibble. Because my sister has Bibble as her Home Screen and my whole family had a conversation about Bibble yesterday.

Thank you. Ur books are cool.

Thank you! Glad you liked SYW... . 😊

Now, about Bibble (and a nod here to @the-best-of-the-geeks, who also inquired about this):

The answer is... maybe. At this end of time, it's hard to tell.

I took a few moments off from today's* graphic arts work to go digging in my archived project files. What I can see from a quick glance at them is that Bibble (or the character who'd eventually be Bibble: there were a lot of name changes throughout the writing process) doesn't appear in any of the drafts of the worldbuilding bible I wrote, or in other associated background material. If it had, that would've been—not absolute, but at least fairly strong circumstantial evidence—that I was the character's creator.

The problem is that when you're working on a big-IP project like this, there are so many people involved in the creative process that it can become really difficult to accurately trace any one character's or story element's "lineage". It's possible Bibble originated in a note to me from one of the creative team, which would have been one of hundreds of archived emails. Or it might have been something suggested to me in a phone conversation... of which there were many. Without sifting through all those emails (and please forgive me, that's not something I've got time for at the moment) it's tough to say.

What I am sure of is that Bibble definitely turned up on my watch. I have a premise file dated 30 December 2003 which does not contain the character, and then a second-draft premise dated 10 January 2004... in which, with a slightly different name, Bibble first appears. Bibble (as Bobble) is also in my first draft screenplay, which was turned in in early February 2004.

So that much, at least, we can be sure of. Bibble's personality and speech style is clearly spelled out in the script (as is the suggestion that Bibble be voiced by Frank Welker. It's a shame that didn't happen: I'm a huge fan of his).

But this still doesn't constitute proof that I invented the character. Bibble could very well have been suggested to me by someone else—and suggestions and notes are so free-flowing in a project like this that it's possible we'll just never know. (sigh) Such is life.

What I do want to emphasize here was how extremely pleasant this whole project was, from beginning to end. There are screenwriting projects that will make you shudder decades after the fact just on hearing their name. But there are others that unfailingly make you smile when someone mentions them... and this, for me, was one of those.

The giveaway of how much fun I was having lies in some stuff that happens in the script and would, to those unfamiliar with tropes in animation writing, look like nothing in particular. But a recurring joke among animation writers back then (and maybe still) was designating a character's speech as a walla. In this case, it means not just a description of some kind of crowd noise—the usual definition—but of that particular character making speechlike noises. It's the kind of thing you don't bother doing if you're not feeling playful. (Or at least I don't.)

...Anyway: hope this has helped, at least a little. :)

*This post was written at the very beginning of May 2023, around the time the WGA strike was starting. During the strike period I haven’t been comfortable with doing long posts about my screen work… but the strike’s over now. 😄 Thanks to @violet-yimlat and @the-best-of-the-geeks for being so patient.

#Fairytopia #Bibble

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keymetaphor · 11 months

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It is time for me to post what I lovingly call my

“Overly Complicated Mechanism” Theory.

I originally wrote it right after Cat, but Amane trying to commit homicide again reminded me of its existence, and then I forgot about it until now. Anyway…

In short, my theory is this: Milgram’s preventative measures for violence against the Guard could be bypassed if the prisoners used an elaborate Rube Goldberg machine.

With Kazui’s first interrogation, it was heavily implied that the way Milgram actually stops prisoners from attacking the Guard involves a mental block, similar to hypnosis. This means the “invisible barrier” is very likely a result of their muscles locking up from brain signals that force them to stop before they hit the Guard.

The main piece of evidence for this comes from Kazui’s first interrogation, where he tested the limits of the Guard’s, uh… guard. Kazui’s attempt to restrain Es ended with his body suddenly losing strength, as if he himself became opposed to the idea of restraining them.

With Milgram’s themes of reinforced and rejected thoughts, I believe the most plausible explanation is a type of mental block instated in the prisoners’ psyches that prevents them from completing actions with the intent to harm or restrain the Guard. (Of course, it’s possible there really is just a magical barrier, but given the results of Kazui’s little experiment and Milgram’s emphasis on altering thought patterns, I think it’s unlikely.) My most pressing question about this is whether the mental block prevents a prisoner from carrying out any action with harmful intent toward the Guard, or if it only stops direct actions.

For example, say Muu wants to hit Es on the head with a rubber mallet. To accomplish this, she comes up with a design for a convoluted mechanism that effectively removes her from the act of wielding the hammer itself. For the sake of consistency, we’ll say the sequence of events is as follows:

Someone tips over a cup. The cup hits a rubber ball, which rolls down a ramp and hits a series of books set up like dominoes, which all fall one after the other. (I don’t have time to do a full illustration right now, but here’s something I sketched out really quick as a visual reference.)

The last book falls off a table onto the pedal of a trash can, which opens the lid and sends a tennis ball flying. The ball knocks over a metal water bottle, which releases the string held in place beneath it.

The string is tied to the rubber mallet, suspending it in midair above a doorframe. Releasing the string also releases the mallet, dropping it directly onto Es, who is (hopefully) standing underneath the doorframe.

There’s enough steps in the sequence to remove Muu as the one dropping the hammer. However, she would still be acting with the intent to harm the Guard. So, would she be unable to complete the action due to the mental block? If the answer is yes, as I theorize, then this obstacle can be bypassed with another workaround: telling someone else to do it for her.

If she tells Haruka that activating the mechanism will release confetti, and she obscures the mechanism enough that he will be unable to discern the actual purpose, (e.g., covering it with a curtain,) then Haruka would be able to activate it because he is acting without ill intent. Since he is fully convinced that the mechanism will release a shower of confetti, he can activate the chain reaction where Muu would be stopped by the mental block.

This leads to another possible obstacle, though. Would the mental block prevent Muu from building the mechanism in the first place? Since she is making it with the intention to cause harm to the guard, would she be unable to create it? It all depends on just how deep the mental block runs.

Based on what we’ve witnessed so far, I’m guessing that the mental block doesn’t extend quite that far. As seen with Fuuta, Kotoko, and Kazui, (and now Amane as well,) the prisoners are still capable of acting with the intention to harm Es; the mental block just stops them from completing the action. In other words, they can try to punch Es, but they’ll be forced to stop right before hitting them. Similarly, Kazui’s attempt to restrain Es was possible at first, but he quickly lost the strength to do so.

It is likely that Muu would be able to build the mechanism in the first place, but attempting to activate it in order to hit Es would result in either her suddenly losing the strength to do so, or another “invisible wall” where her muscles lock up right before she can tip the cup over.

If Muu lies to Haruka about its true purpose, however, Haruka will be able to activate the mechanism in her stead, and the hammer will successfully hit its mark, provided Es is standing in the right place.

So here’s how they could kill Es with a banana peel…

#milgram #es milgram #listen. i really like digging into the details of how plot mechanics work.#figuring out the rules of a vague convenient power is one of my favorite hobbies.#yes i wrote all this just to end with that punchline.#milgram theory

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frownyalfred · 3 months

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Hello! A random and specific question has occurred to me, and I think you might have some thoughts, if you're ok with answering!

So, most of the time Judaism is passed down matrilineally. I know there are some exceptions, and some groups that believe Judaism can be passed down through either parent, but generally it's just through the mother. This is how dc accidentally made Bruce Jewish.

However, is it the birthing parent who makes a child Jewish? Or is it strictly the mother, regardless of if she gives birth to the child or not?

I know that sounds like I'm asking about trans Jewish people, but I'm actually curious how this would play out in a world where mpreg is normalized, like in an abo alternate universe. For instance, if Bruce is Jewish and gets pregnant as an omega, would his kids also be Jewish? I did look up perspectives on trans Jewish people having kids, and unsurprisingly views are divided but it seemed like people mostly consider the birthing parent being important, i.e. a trans Jewish man would have Jewish children regardless of the other parent. What are your thoughts on this, if you're open to sharing?

(This ask got longer than I meant, sorry I wrote you a whole essay lol. Also I really hope this doesn't come across as rude, and I sincerely apologize if it does. Tone is difficult on the internet!)

Oh, that's a very very interesting question. Another one I'd like to ask my rabbi if I ever work up the nerve.

I'm no scholar, so if someone else wants to correct me on this one, feel free. But here's my best guess:

The gist of matrilineal descent is that it emerged from a time when the only way you could guarantee that a child was Jewish was to witness the birth from a Jewish mother. Rape, missing fathers, etc all made it a grey area, and back then, it was the only way to be "sure" that a child was halachically Jewish.

The interesting thing is, this was a change from patrilineal descent, but people still argue about when that change happened. Depending on the denomination, matrilineal descent is very very important beyond just determining Judaism, or it's a vestigial practice that has stuck around because it's, well, tradition.

Now, origin and existence are two different things. While it might have emerged for certain reasons, modern standards have obviously changed. We can do DNA tests and other rituals. But a lot of major denominations will turn away patrilineal Jews or hold those with Jewish DNA at arm's length until their Jewishness has been determined. That's only changed recently, and even then very slowly.

So, now that that's out of the way -- how does this relate to omegaverse? I suppose carriers in a/b/o universes would be considered de facto mothers, because they give birth. From my (limited) understanding, the core of most strict matrilineal arguments are 1) we've always done it this way post reception of the Torah 2) it was the only way to ensure someone was Jewish and 3) there are inherent attributes to mothers/the feminine that Rabbis argue are metaphysical and important to consider.

But it depends on how you write omegas. Are they defined by their ability to birth? Are they dual sex or single sex? Do they have the ability to sire offspring in addition to carrying them? Do they serve a "motherly" role in addition to giving birth? All things to consider.

Me personally, I'm a big proponent of accepting all Jews as they are, as long as they're not proselytizing or cosplaying as Jewish from another religion. It's a closed practice but we're also dwindling in number, so turning away people because their father was Jewish and not their mother is bizarre to me. Especially if they were raised in the religion -- at that point it's a technicality, but many rabbis will still make you go through a conversion which is wild to me.

I would throw out there, for the sake of omegaverse -- if the carrier is Jewish, generally, in most cases, the pups are Jewish. That makes sense to me.

#hope that helps a little!#or maybe just made it more confusing #definitely a divided topic #as a grandaughter of a convert #i feel the tension in this #jewish #jewish stuff #judaism #omegaverse #a/b/o mention #a/b/o tw #a/b/o #asks

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the-bitter-ocean · 3 months

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( ACT 3/ ACT 4 SPOILERS) This is part 1 of the many responses/ dialogue options I wrote for the conversation that Rewind and Mirabelle have on what Rewind’s identity truly is. To understand the full context you can find the original post here. Writing is under the cut:

{{“So I suppose you must have a lot of questions for me don’t you? Theories as to who I might be?”}}

{ You do. You can’t help but feel overwhelmed by all of this.}

{“Let’s make this like a game so you can get to know me a little better. How’s that sound hm?”}}

{You nod slowly, still unsure.}

{{“You get one guess for this so pick whatever feels right in your heart.”}}

{One guess?}

{If you were being completely truthful the idea of prying into someone else’s personal lives felt invasive?}

{You wouldn’t want anyone- let alone complete strangers knowing deep intimate details of your personal growth like that. }

{ The thought of people assuming things or thinking they know you better than you know yourself makes you squirm.}

{In Vaugarde, it’s very common for people to change. Names, hairstyles, beliefs, clothes and hobbies- all of that is subject to change if the person wills it to. }

{It’s an unspoken rule that you don’t delve into asking on who people used to be before they change unless they explicitly wish to talk about that with you.}

{…And even though Riri is saying that she’s fine with talking about anything..you get the feeling that may not be the case.}

{You figured you’d give Rewind the same courtesy. Even if she is some sort of astral being ..they’re still a person and everyone deserves that respect right?}

=> {It doesn’t matter who you are.}

{“..Does it matter?”}

{Riri looked at you startled, as if she wasn’t expecting that answer at all.}

{“..Why do I need to know who used to be? It feels ..kind of rude to just demand that of you?” }

{{“…I suppose you’re right, Plum. It doesn’t matter at all who I was! Just who I chose to be now!”}}

{{ “..And who I choose to be now is someone that guides you on your journey through the loops!”}}

#in cycles and cessation #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #isat game #isat #in stars and time #in stars and time game #isat fanfic #isat au #in stars and time fanfic #in stars and time au #isat mirabelle #in stars and time mirabelle #mirabelle chevalier #icac rewind #the bitter ocean writes #isat act 3 spoilers #isat act 4 spoilers

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queenshelby · 1 year

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THE FUTURE (PART TWO)

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place) x Original Female Character

Warning: Age Gap, Forced Procreation, Past Sexual Abuse, Angst

Words: 2,677

Emmett brooded alone in his rustic cabin, his weathered face contorted in a scowl. Evelyn's plea weighed heavily on his mind, an oppressive burden dragging him into the depths of frustration. "Why should I bring a child into this forsaken world?" he muttered to himself, the words escaping his lips as a hushed whisper. It wasn't just the lurking danger beyond their sanctuary that deterred him; it was the guilt that haunted him from his past.

As if on cue, Evelyn entered the room, her wide eyes searching for Emmett's gaze. She understood his mood without the need for words, instinctively sensing the turmoil within him. "Have you made a decision?" she asked, eager to know if Emmett was prepared to be paired with Caitlyn for the program.

"Yes, Evelyn, and the answer is no," Emmett replied firmly, causing Evelyn's eyebrows to furrow in concern. "I understand," she said, taking a seat beside him, her presence a comforting balm. She watched as he shook his head, her empathy flowing freely.

"Do you truly understand?" Emmett questioned, a flicker of anger igniting in his eyes. "Bringing a child into this world... It's a perilous gamble. I lost my family once, and I cannot bear the thought of losing another. Pretending to go along with the program while secretly abstaining will only result in Caitlyn being paired with someone else after months or even a year of fruitless attempts." Emmett's words were laced with painful truth, and Evelyn knew he had thoroughly considered this choice.

Evelyn's expression softened, and her hands reached out to gently touch his arm. "That's why I understand, Emmett. I am grateful that I am too old to participate in this program. But, despite the odds, we have a chance to create something beautiful here."

Emmett met her gaze, realizing the depth of her understanding and compassion. "I will inform the Council of your decision," Evelyn finally said, leaving Emmett to his solitude, knowing he desired it.

Meanwhile...

Caitlyn stood alone on the edge of the island, her heart heavy with the weight of her resolve. She had made her choice. Like Emmett, she couldn't fathom bringing a child into this harsh and dangerous world. It seemed a futile endeavor, only amplifying the vulnerability of the human race. And so, she had decided to leave.

With determination in her eyes, Caitlyn hastily scribbled a note explaining her intentions. "I cannot remain here," she wrote, the words stark against the paper. With a sigh, she pinned the note to a prominent post, aware it would be discovered soon enough.

As luck would have it, Evelyn stumbled upon the note during her leisurely stroll back from Emmett's cottage. She usually took the scenic route, collecting naturally growing food along the way. Her eyes widened as she read the words, her heart pounding in her chest. "Dear God!" Evelyn cursed, hastening her return to Emmett's cottage.

"Emmett!" she called out upon approaching, her voice echoing through the lush landscape. "You won't believe what I found!" Emmett came running towards her, rifle in hand, fearing the worst.

Startled, Emmett's rugged face etched with concern. "What is it, Evelyn?" he asked, worry creeping into his voice.

Evelyn caught up to him, the wind whipping her hair around her face. "It's Caitlyn," she said breathlessly, thrusting the note into his hands. "She's gone."

Emmett's eyes narrowed as he scanned the note, the words sinking like stones in his chest. "I'm not surprised," he muttered, a mix of anger and worry brewing beneath his gruff exterior.

"Nor am I, but I must find her, Emmett. The boys need her, and she has already endured so much," Evelyn pleaded. However, Emmett shook his head, his mind made up.

"No, I will go after her. You are needed here," Emmett declared, his voice a solemn whisper. With a determined glint in his piercing blue eyes, Emmett embarked on his perilous mission to find Caitlyn and bring her back, regardless of the cost.

***

Meanwhile, Caitlyn had already found herself on the mainland, her footsteps silent against the cracked pavement. She had always been a daring adventurer, but this was an entirely new level of peril.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she cautiously navigated the desolate streets. Her deafness was both a blessing and a curse in this soundless world plagued by creatures drawn to noise. Caitlyn couldn't afford even the slightest sound. She had witnessed firsthand the horrors these creatures were capable of, and those memories haunted her dreams.

As she walked, Caitlyn's thoughts drifted to Emmett and Evelyn, both of whom she considered dear friends. They had always been there for her, a steadfast pillar of support. Emmet, in particular, was a mentor and friend to her, even if he was twice her age and had a tendency to be grumpier than a bear with a toothache.

It was for the better this way. Caitlyn knew that Evelyn and Emmett would look after the boys for her, and she knew that she had made the right decision, namely to leave. She couldn’t even imagine the heartache of having a family would bring to her in this unkind world and forced procreation with someone she despised was even worse. It was Caitlyn’s worst nightmare. Much worse than the creatures themselves.

***

Meanwhile, Emmett trudged onward, his face etched with determination and worry. He had always been a protector, but this felt different. It felt... personal.

Days passed, but Emmett never faltered, following Caitlyn's inadvertent breadcrumbs. He had a hunch that she was heading to the abandoned factory in the heart of the town. With his survival instincts guiding him, he navigated the dangerous path, avoiding the roaming creatures that lurked in the shadows.

As he approached the centre of the dilapidated worker's township, the silence grew deafening, and fear hung heavy in the air. The creatures ruled this place, and one wrong move could mean certain death.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Emmett spotted Caitlyn in the distance. She stood frozen amidst the ruins of a forgotten city. Relief washed over him like a cool wave, but he knew better than to rush to her side. He had to be patient, cautious - the silent hero.

Emmett approached Caitlyn with utmost care, his eyes never straying from the lurking creatures. Caitlyn turned towards him, her eyes widening in surprise, her hands trembling slightly. She had hoped someone would come for her, but seeing Emmett now, a mix of emotions flooded her.

"I didn't expect you to come," Caitlyn signed softly, her fingers uncertainly grasping at the air.

Emmett offered her a small, understanding smile. “We're friends, remember?" he signed, a confession he had never made before. In his world, he believed he had no friends.

Caitlyn nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. Never had she valued friendship more than in that moment.

“Come, I know where it is safe,” Emmett motioned for Caitlyn to follow him. She nodded, knowing he had a plan to keep her alive.

From the moment she met Emmett, she had been captivated by his resourcefulness and resilience. He understood the creatures' nature, communicating through sign language that he had learned from Regan.

As they walked side by side, silence enveloped them. Each step was cautious, every breath held in anticipation. In their world, noise was the enemy.

Finally, they reached the edge of the dense forest, where Emmett had established a hidden sanctuary during one of his supply runs.

Emmett led Caitlyn to a small cottage, but before they could reach safety, a sudden crack of a branch shattered the silence. Fear gripped Emmett's chest, his heart skipping a beat.

“Hide!” he gestured frantically, urging Caitlyn to find shelter. He pulled her towards safety as the creatures charged through the vegetation, their terrifying presence shaking the very foundations of their being.

"Quiet," Emmett mouthed, his hands steady. Caitlyn held her breath, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on the creatures as they passed, their instincts focused on the noise that had momentarily disturbed their stillness.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the creatures moved on, unaware of Emmett and Caitlyn's presence. Caitlyn released a shaky breath, her body trembling with fear. Emmett reassured her with a pat on the shoulder, relief evident in his eyes.

***

Eventually, Emmett and Caitlyn entered the cottage. Every rustle of leaves, every whisper of wind made Emmett's heart race, fearing the return of the nightmarish creatures.

The events of the past few days had left Caitlyn physically and emotionally drained. She needed rest before continuing her journey, and Emmett understood that.

For hours, they sat on the cold ground, Caitlyn lost in fragmented memories. Fear, pursuit, and the haunting faces of the creatures consumed her thoughts. But amidst the chaos, there was a glimmer of hope - Emmett, her beacon of strength in this relentless nightmare.

“You have two choices now, Caitlyn," Emmett signed, guiding her face towards his.

“We can venture to the factory together, leaving the safety of the island behind for good, or we can return to the island where it's secure," Emmett signed, allowing her the space to process the overwhelming events and emotions.

“I cannot return to the island, Emmett!" Caitlyn signed, as a gentle rustle of leaves outside caught his attention. He turned to face the sound, his heart quickening once more.

“Yes, you can. I'll move in with you, and together, we can pretend to comply with the authorities' quest to repopulate the planet," Emmett joked, eliciting a smile from Caitlyn, though she shook her head.

Caitlyn scrutinized his countenance, searching for even the slightest trace of deception, yet all she discovered was an unwavering honesty etched into every crease. Reluctantly, she replied, "And what reason do I have to place my trust in you?"

Emmett's hand quivered imperceptibly as he clenched his fists, his words intermingling with the distant roar of creatures. "Because I am present here and now, am I not? Despite everything, I have morals that prevent me from allowing the Council to coerce you into something you do not believe in," he whispered and expressed through his hands to the best of his abilities.

A heavy silence descended upon them as Caitlyn contemplated Emmett's proposition. She weighed the risks, the potential for security, and the immense responsibility of bringing another life into this daunting world.

Breaking the stillness, Caitlyn signed, "If we feign our alliance, what will happen if we are discovered? The consequences could be catastrophic."

Emmett nodded, fully comprehending the gravity of her concerns. "It will be risky, yes, but perhaps my willingness to partake in this charade will grant you some respite, at least until we can find a more viable solution."

A faint smile curved Caitlyn's lips, her hands conveying both apprehension and hope. In the eerie hush of their surroundings, Emmett's offer lingered in the air, awaiting Caitlyn's decision. The weight of their future bore down upon them, threatening to shatter their fragile aspirations.

Caitlyn's hands moved deliberately, contemplating her response. With each measured gesture, her decision began to take shape. Finally, she signed, "I will accompany you back. For now."

Relief washed over Emmett's face, though it was tinged with caution. He knew their journey to the island would be arduous, and their trials far from over. Yet, together, perhaps, Caitlyn stood a fighting chance.

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