#Like this ramble is just a small taste of where my brain has been all day

[cq-studios]

This one screenshot has so much I want to talk about in it so I’m gonna babble about it below the cut

(TLDR: CQ geeks out about translating the Scala Language)

Okay, so first off I’d like to say how much I love the newspaper vibe they are going for and achieving with menus. It has me gnawing on the walls. There’s just Scala Script (the Scala language, for clarity’s sake) everywhere and my code breaking brain is eating it up.

Speaking of which here’s what I’ve been able to translate so far (out of what I’ve been able to make out… the writing is pretty scuffed up in places and it’s not the highest quality image lol)

So the first thing I’d like to focus on are the banners. Each one has something written in Scalian underneath. Those things in order of left to right are “Daily”, “Item”, and “Avatar”, which uh, makes sense lol.

I think it’s a little strange that “Item” is the only one that isn’t exactly translated… like did they just forget the “S”?

On a more interesting note though, this one for one translation here means we now have an official Scalian character for “V”. Unfortunately the character used is pretty scrapped away, so I can’t be 100% sure, but I do think I know which character is used.

(Click/tap on the images below… for whatever reason they were just not formatting correctly)

I also considered it being the one below, but because of the location of the flecks I lean more towards the first one.

I also might have translated another new Scalian character but I’m not sure…

See, on the bar at the top of the screen it says “[unknown character]ho[same unknown character]colates”. I spent at least an hour trying to find out all the possible English words what it could be. I just filled in the blanks tried anagrams, the whole shebang (except for trying that with the other languages that are most likely to be used. Those being Japanese, for obvious reasons, and Latin, which has been used in Scala Script before on the manhole covers in KH3 Scala) and came out with one possible word: Chocolate.

And I must be wrong because that makes no sense, but in case I’m right, it’s here.

I tried to cross reference with KH3 signs to no avail so I’m a bit stumped…

Maybe the little blurb on the other side makes it make sense but it’s too blurry for me to read.

Next up I’ll talk about the “Weather”.

The top text is decently clear so I was able to work that out pretty quickly (pros of being fluent in this fictional language I guess lol) and thanks to that clear text I was actually able to make out a bit more of what was below it than I would’ve otherwise. See, the smaller letters are pretty blurry but I’m able to vaguely make them out. The “L” and “W” were what I caught first and I filled in the blank between pretty fast with some pretty simple connections. Once I’d seen that I realized that there was probably a high there too, and there do seem to be “H”s on either side of the word above it… and a “G”… and an “I” (I think, I was trying to double check but my iPad has significantly worse image quality than my computer).

As for the temperature, I tried my best but the numbers are probably inaccurate. They are very blurry.

Last but not least, here are a few of my smaller notes.

I’m a big fan of the Moogle stamp, but I could not tell you what the first word on that thing is. The second is “news”, clear as day but the first word doesn’t have any characters I recognize other than the “S”. I tried coming up with possibilities through context but I’m drawing a blank.

I also love the little Potion and Elixir advertisement in the bottom corner. Like, I’m so charmed by the art for it. That being said though, I also have no clue what the text next to this one says. I’m sure it’s an onomatopoeia of some sort but once again my brain wasn’t working with me.

If you guys have any ideas please let me know. I always love to have discussions and help.

(Also I know I left a whole text box out… I honestly have nothing to say about that. Not enough characters I recognize to decipher anything at this point)

#AHHHHHHHH I’M LOOSING MY MIND IM SO EXCITED FOR ML #Like this ramble is just a small taste of where my brain has been all day #so many thoughts not enough time to write them all #kh #kingdom hearts #khml spoilers #khml #sometimes i think about ml

[tcfactory]

Since my brain has been full of SVSSS brainrot lately:

I want a fic where the transmigration mostly fails and Shen Jiu wakes up from his qi deviation as User002 with the goddamn System treating him like he is Shen Yuan. Trashy yellow book what??? No, he doesn't need stats on his fellow peak lords, if he is supposed to follow a plot then he wants to see the script! You wretched floating rectangle, how is he supposed to play along if he doesn't know the source material?!

The stress of having what feels like a very pushy curse or an insanely weird demon inflicted upon him makes him deviate from some minor plot points and he gets punished for being OOC a couple of times until the System takes pity on him and directs him to Airplane bro, with the very clear suggestion that if he can't remember the early arcs of the story - System understands, User! It's very long after all. UwU - he should go and discuss it with the author.

He basically kicks down Shang Qinghua's door in desperation for some clarity and maybe an explanation, right now before he works himself into a stress-induced qi deviation, Shang-shidi. Shang hamster looks at his miserable scum villain, takes a deep breath, brings out all of Shen Qingqiu's favorite snacks that nobody should know about, makes a pot of calming tea and tells him everything.

Shang Qinghua expects Shen Qingqiu to be angry, to rip into him for writing him into this wretched life. And Shen Jiu is angry, but not at Qinghua. His anxious, mousy little shidi who lives his entire life under the looming threat of a horrible, seemingly unchangeable future doesn't look like a god. Shang Qinghua, who does his best to run his peak well and look out for his disciples despite his admittance that in the story the original Qinghua did a shoddy job - he doesn't look like someone who would have put pen to paper and written a tragedy if he knew it would become someone's reality.

And how could Shen Jiu, who has seen people sell their bodies and their very dignity for a cup of stale water, judge someone for writing a very bad yellow book so he can eat? Please. Peak Lord Shen might have developed a very discerning taste in literature over the years, but you can't fill your stomach with artistic integrity, Shang-shidi. Shen Jiu understands.

So they sit and for that first evening, Shen Qingqiu listens to all the differences creeping into the story, Shang Qinghua's retelling of the drafts he abandoned due to peer pressure, the long rambling tangents of the research he's done, even if they never made it into the story. Qinghua is so caught up in having someone to talk to that he doesn't realize that Shen Qingqiu put everything that happened to Qi-ge together, somewhere between the musings about how a sword inspired by kintsugi would be so cool looking, shame that nobody ever sees the thing, and the griping about how much one of his patrons complained about Yue Qingyuan dying without ever drawing his sword.

Later, when the snacks are gone and the tea is replaced with something stronger, he tells Shen Qingqiu about the stories he really wanted to write. About how he shamefully sneaked his dream man into PIDW, just so he could have some small part to himself, and oh, Shen Qingqiu will have to remind him about demon courting practices when they are both sober again, because it sounds like that Mobei prince is down bad for him.

He leaves that night with a newfound determination. Shang Qinghua might be resigned to the whims of his System and the shackles of the Plot, but Shen Jiu didn't burn the Qiu manor down and break his chains to give up so easily. This is his world, his sect, his Qi-ge on the line, and he would sooner wrest control from the System and become custodian of the world himself than let something take away and ruin what is his. He is the strategist of Cang Qiong Sect, there is no situation he can't think a way out of and he has had enough of tragedies.

Before any of that, however, he needs to go and have a good yell at his Qi-ge, smack his stupid face and then curl up in his arms for a good night's sleep. It's long overdue.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shang qinghua #that last bit can be read as qijiu or platonic #but I'm personally very partial to qijiu. they just have so much tasty tasty tragedy to sink your teeth into #sqq fixing the world by directing his anger at the right thing for once? more likely than you'd think #idk how they would deal with all the binghe related nonsense but sqq is nothing if not resourceful #tc writes

[im-robins-bitch]

A Somewhat SFW Alphabet with Robin Buckley

18+ only please.

A - Activities (what does she like to do with you?)

Anything. Robin Buckley will do anything with you and have the time of her life. 

She does have a special place in her heart for fall/winter activities. You’ll go to the pumpkin patch to pick out the perfect pumpkins and then carve them to put on the porch. 

I honestly think you would be the kind of couple where you compete against each other to make the best gingerbread house and it gets more and more out of hand each year until the store-bought kits aren’t enough anymore and you’re baking gingerbread at home and have pre-planned floor plans. There may be a ceasefire one year where you both collaborate to make your dream home out of gingerbread. 

She will do anything you want, but come the colder months, she already has your calendar marked up with must-do activities. 

B - Beauty ( What does she love most about herself?)

Besides her brain (which she sometimes thinks works against her) Robin thinks one of her best features is her eyes. Since dating you she’s come to think of her fingers as the second best. 

You love, love, love her freckles. You like to count them and kiss them until she’s giggling and pushing you away. Her hands are top-tier as well, she always has them on you. If she’s trying to learn the fingering for a new song on trumpet you can bet your ass she’s pressing them down on your thigh to get some practice in. 

C - Comfort (How does she comfort you, what kind of comfort does she seek from you?)

When Robin is overwhelmed, the only thing she wants is to feel you lying on top of her. She likes feeling your weight press down on her. She’ll curl her fingers around your wrist so she can feel your pulse. If it’s really bad you’ll lay in silence until she’s asleep, snoring in your ear. If it’s just a minor upset, you’ll encourage her to talk about what’s bothering her and play some bowie softly in the background. 

If you’re feeling down she will do anything you need, anything you ask. 

She’ll hold you all night, stroking your back and kissing your head. She’ll try her best to be quiet, but she’ll usually start talking by accident and that is usually what ends up working the best. You’re also a big believer in naked cuddling, Robin’s boobs are the best stress reliever. 

“You know cats have been known to stroke their owners because they think it will make them feel better” Robin has been staring unabashedly at your hands the entire time you’ve been doing your night-time routine.

“Really?” 

“According to a study, it also promotes bonding- Wh- why are you taking your shirt off?”

“I’m gonna come lie on you, c’mon Buckley get your shirt off we have a bond to improve” 

D - Date (What is Robin’s favourite kind of date)

Her favourite special dates are the days when you’ll go drive over to Indianapolis and spend the whole day there. 

Sometimes you’ll have tickets to a show, you’re favourite being Rocky Horror Picture Show, other times you just see where the day takes you. There's a family dinner that you go to every trip and a bar hidden down an alleyway that makes the best strawberry mojitos you’ve ever tasted. There's a thrift store you love, it always has something perfect for Robin and you always pull things out for each other and have a fashion show when you get back home. 

Otherwise, she likes going to the drive-in. It took some getting used to, she once insisted going to The Hawk was the only way to truly enjoy a movie, until she realised that at the drive-in she was free to talk all she wanted. 

E - Everything (You are ….)

You are my dearest secret.

F - Feelings (When did she know she was in love)

You were at a party, just a small get-together at Steve’s house with your friends.

You’re stood with Robin, as you usually are, holding tightly onto her hand as she rambled about the movie you went to at the weekend to you and the group of friends surrounding you. 

“It was such a bad twist because it’s like they just pulled rules out their ass so we wouldn’t see it coming, like vampires just don’t-”

“I thought it was great, the soundtrack was  fucking metal” Eddie interrupts, not letting Robin finish her sentence as he squeezed Steve further into his side, “What did you think Nance?”

Robin frows, eyebrows wrinkling in annoyance at being talked over. The conversation seemingly continues without her as every time she tries to butt back in someone talks over her. 

You squeeze her hand and it’s then she remembers you’re there because you had been even quieter than she was rendered. She turns to you, finding you pressing a kiss to her neck and then whispering into her ear, “Keep going,” You whisper, breath hitting her neck and making her hair stand on edge, “I’m listening,”

G - Guilty Pleasure

Robin loves it when you give her hand massages. 

Whether it's a full-on massage with lotions and nail oil or just the pressure of your thumb rubbing back and forth when you holding hands, she adores it. It relaxes her like nothing else and eases all the tension from her fingers. 

She used to be self-conscious of how rough her hands were from work and the trumpet. They weren't the soft hands of all the girls in the romance books. You only saw it as an excuse to love on her even more. You’ll kiss all of her hard-earned calluses and insist she use your hand cream instead of her own because it’s better. It also makes her smell like you.

H - Honesty (What secrets does she hide from you)

Robin is awful at hiding things from you, she’s learnt the hard way not to lie to your face because you catch it immediately. She tends to lie by omission instead. 

She’s a talker though and she’s accidentally ruined many birthday gifts because she’s gotten so caught up in her stories that she’s told you exactly what she bought without thinking. She doesn’t mean to, but when you ask her about her day you always insist on her telling you everything and it just slips out. 

When she does lie it’s never anything cruel, just small things. At the start of your relationship, she kept quiet about a lot of your questionable fashionable choices, smiling and nodding when you would show her the ugliest pair of shoes she’d ever seen with a beaming smile. Now she’s like Michael Kors on Project Runway, she will not hold back. 

After you had found out she had kept the whole, international monsters thing from you in your final year of high school you had been livid that she had gone through it all alone. When it happened again you joined her without question and the two of you very rarely kept anything from each other again. 

I - Injury (how would they react if you got hurt)

She’s a huge worrier, a paper cut has her brain whirling. She’ll insist that you disinfect it because she saw something about a boy who got a paper cut and then lost his finger. Tries out home remedies if you have any aches and pains, rubbing certain oils into your aching body. 

Surprisingly she’s the type to believe that rubbing tiger balm on your feet and leaving it overnight will alleviate a cold. 

If she ever hurts herself you kiss her injury better. Smooching her bruises every night until they go away. 

J - Jealousy (who gets more jealous, what are they like when jealous)

At the start of your relationship, she got jealous quite often, especially because you had to hide that you were together. She becomes a lot more withdrawn when she gets seriously jealous about something, so you can always tell because she barely speaks to you. She’s quick to break though, especially when you start pestering her about it with kisses. 

As she becomes more secure in the relationship she rarely gets jealous anymore. Then the shoe is on the other foot because now she isn’t getting jealous, she notices just how often you do. You’re just way better at hiding it than she was. You act the opposite of Robin, rubbing your closeness in the face of whoever it is that you’re jealous of. 

Sometimes it’s giving Robin back the chapstick you borrowed when a customer is flirting with her. If any boys at parties approach her you look them up and down with a death stare until they back down. Occasionally you even get jealous of Steve, sitting yourself on her lap and wrapping yourself around her like a cobra. Robin can’t deny how good it feels to have her two favourite people both wanting her company. 

K - Kiss (Their favourite kind of kisses)

Robin loves all your kisses, just the fact that she gets to kiss you sometimes blows her mind. At first, she was really shy about it and didn’t know how to ask for it, her cheeks would be stained pink in embarrassment because she would be trying not to be obvious about it. It was always very obvious. 

Her favourite kind of kisses are of an overzealous kind. When you lick your lips beforehand so you can plant a big fat one on her cheek. Even better if you have lip gloss on and she can feel the sticky residue afterwards. You always make a big smoochy noise as well and follow it with a million more little pecks. 

She likes it when you’ve had a long day and stomp into her arms, face tucked into her neck and she kisses the top of your head. She can feel the difference, your tense posture from before the kiss, to how you melt into her a little more afterwards. It’s like her kiss washed away the stress from the day. Her little way of saying ‘I love you’ and ‘I’ve got you, it’s ok’. You get the message every time. 

L - Love (Who said it first)

Look, Robin ‘motormouth’ Buckley told you at the worst time possible. I’m sorry, she just did. As soon as she realised she loved you it was so hard to keep it from you. 

The same day when you asked her what she had done for the day she almost responded ‘I realised that I loved you today’. In retrospect, it’s what she wished she had done. She wanted it to be romantic though. Had spent hours at work watching romance films for inspiration. 

So when she had accidentally spilt the beans in-between whines when she was been sitting on your face, she was mortified. 

M - Marriage 

Gay marriage is not legal for a long time, by the time it’s actually on the cards you two will have been together for so long you’d already been calling her your wife for years. 

I think maybe four years into your relationship, both of you know that you’re in it for life, and you’d have a little ceremony of your own in your garden. It means so much more than a typical wedding because you get to do your own thing instead of following shitty traditions. 

You’d go shopping together to buy engagement rings and matching wedding bands, which you found much more fun than the stress of trying to pick something the other person would like and secretly trying to figure out each other's ring sizes. 

Steve will ‘officiate’ the ceremony and not many people will probably be invited to the actual wedding bit, but everyone will be invited to the party afterwards. Eddie's speech would be one of the highlights of the night. Along with the tally chart keeping count every time Steve burst into tears.

When marriage does become legal you would have been ‘married’ so long and your wedding in the backyard would have felt more meaningful so i feel like you would have just gone to the courthouse or something. Your friends would insist on coming though, some of them probably even bringing little flags and getting a picture of you kissing on the steps. 

N- No (something that caused an argument)

Robin once thought about getting a parrot,  just to teach it how to say dingus, that she would then give to Steve. 

Now she just really wanted a bird. 

You had to put your foot down, you rented your apartment and both worked too much to give the bird the company it needed. You were willing to compromise, but every pet she picked out was just ridiculous. 

Her idea of a compromise was a lizard,  but she said you would need to be the one to feed it because she couldn’t deal with the bugs. When you told her if she wanted to get a pet she would have to be the one to feed it, she changed her mind to a snake. Until you both watched a documentary and she realised what that would need to be fed. 

You end up with a pair of goldfish named Tangerine and Lady Stardust. With your aloe vera plant named Robert, you think that’s enough responsibility for now. Robin is still checking out books about budgies and cockatiels, just in case.

O - Origin (who developed a crush first, who made the first move)

Robin fell first, but you fell harder. 

You most certainly had to be the one to make the first move though because she keeps brushing off your flirting as you being friendly and that it’s ‘just how girls are’ 

P - PDA 

PDA is limited, at least until being gay is more socially acceptable. Around your friends, you like to sit on her lap, kiss her cheek, and hold her hand. I don’t think Robin is likely to be comfortable doing much else in front of her friends, because she’s so easily flustered by you. Behind closed doors though, it’s another story. 

Q - Quirk (what’s a quirk of hers)

Robin is a klepto, she will steal all of your stuff, at first accidentally, but then more and more often. You think it’s cute, she only steals little trinkets that you don’t need or lip balms. Sometimes she ‘forgets’ to bring back the jumpers she borrowed or the socks you lend her because her feet always get cold. She acts like she’s already given them back, but then opens the door with them on. A bit of a gaslighter, but she’s our gaslighter. When you move in together and suggest you should just combine your wardrobes she’s in heaven. 

R - Rainday (What’s a typical rainy day like)

When you’re still in your twenties you love a typical girly sleepover day. Robin didn’t get a lot of those and even if she isn’t the girliest of girls, she still enjoys them. 

You’ll do each other's makeup and practise new hairstyles, following tutorials in magazines. Her highlight is painting each other's nails, she likes holding your hands and how concentrated you get trying to make her look perfect. 

Sometimes Nancy, Max and El will join you and you’ll all eat snacks and gossip. Offering Max and El dating advice, reading those awful teen magazines and taking all the quizzes. It’s just a fun time all around. 

S - Sad (What would make her sad and how does her s/o help)

Robin often feels like an outcast and that her brain just doesn’t shut up. She doesn’t feel like she fits in with everyone else and that she’s just a bit too weird. She feels like everyone else has an instruction manual on how to be normal and hers is missing. 

Becoming friends with Steve helps. Finding out she isn’t the only girl who likes girls in Hawkins helps. When you don’t lessen her feelings, but instead just tell her that you like her for exactly who she is, weird or not, that makes her feel better. When you offer to reject society with her and go live in the Alps she perks up. She finds the biggest comfort in the weight of you resting against her and the reassurance that she’s found her people now and that they all love her because of her Robinisms not despite them.

T - Talking (What do they like to talk about)

Everything. This girl does not stop talking. She can talk about anything for an impressive amount of time. She thinks it’s annoying, you think it’s a talent. 

U - Understanding (How understanding are they of their partner's needs)

Robin is extremely understanding when it comes to boundaries and will actively encourage you to tell her if things make you uncomfortable. You don’t like the way the candy at Family Video sticks to your teeth? She swaps out the candy. 

You don’t like loud noises at parties and like to wear earplugs? She carries a spare pair in her bag.

Her pyjama top is too scratchy against your skin? She’s throwing it off and letting you rest skin-to-skin instead. 

If you don’t like to wear socks to bed she will put up with your icicle feet leeching heat from her own. She gets her own back with her cold hands when she comes back from work. 

V - Vanity (How much does she care about her looks)

Robin has perfected the art of looking casually cool. She even looked good in her Scoops uniform, which should have been impossible. She still doesn’t believe that you used to drool over her in that outfit. She isn’t exactly a perfectionist when it comes to how she looks, but she does want to look nice. 

W - Wildcard (Random headcanon)

I said earlier she loves fall and winter activities. I think she would collect vintage Christmas decorations, the weirder the better. It gets worse and worse as you get older until you have multiple boxes of super old Christmas decorations. 

She also loves learning about traditions from different religions and places. If you celebrate something else she’s going to be all ears about what it entails and want to celebrate it with you. She’ll even try to find some vintage decorations for your holiday too.

X - X-ray (relationship headcanon)

If you’re having a petty argument or trying to convince her to do something, you like to flash her your tits. It works pretty much every time and was your secret weapon. Then she started to do it to you and you’ve been losing every argument since. 

Y - Yearning (How much does she miss you)

So much! You two talk for hours every day. You’re the only person who encourages her to speak more when she rambles on a tangent and you like to have catch-ups where she tells you everything about her day. You’re also each other's safe space, you can be completely yourselves around each other and even if you’re not doing something together you like just being in the same room. 

If you’re away for more than a day, when you come back she will have written down things she wanted to tell you about but didn’t want to forget. Not before she listens to you tell her everything about your time away, whether it’s an irritated rant or a gleeful story about how much fun you had. 

When texting becomes an option, Robin’s phone bill grows astronomical. 

Z - zzz (How do they sleep)

You on top of her, if it’s just your thigh over her own or your arm across her waist, she will take it. She needs to feel your weight on her like she needs to breathe. You like to sleep without a shirt on and you like it when she does the same, even in winter. Only on the coldest nights do you relent. 

She likes to shove her hand into your underwear, it began one winter to keep them warm and now she can’t sleep without it. She also wears thick socks to bed, she’s one of the few people who’ll get wool socks for Christmas and be happy about it.

Masterlist

#robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley blurb #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley drabble

[grapejuicestyless]

i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the slow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. His was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered by I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry x reader #fine line harry styles #harry styles #yn x harrystyles #yn x harry

[bee-the-loser]

₊ ⊹☼ BRINGING THE SUN AND STARS ☼⊹ ₊ ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─────────────────── ₊ ⊹☼ Pairing: Wen Junhui x reader ₊ ⊹☼ Synopsis: Jun enters both your cat cafe and your life on a random Thursday afternoon one day, leading to a connection bigger than both of you initially would have expected. ₊ ⊹☼ Genre: Cat cafe au, fluff, sunshine boy Jun, more reserved reader ₊ ⊹☼ Word count: 1,275 ₊ ⊹☼ Warnings: None that I can think of ₊ ⊹☼ A/N: Hope you all like this, my brain decided it was time to write and somehow this came into existence :D ──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────────────────

Maybe it was the way the sunlight was shining through the blinds of your small cafe “A Cats Comfort” or maybe it was the way his own smile seemed to rival the sun’s rays, but you found that you couldn’t help the corners of your mouth twitching upwards whenever Jun came around. He seemed to radiate warmth that filled anyone and everyone with infectious positivity, allowing joy to flourish. You never could have imagined that a few months ago, one afternoon would change your calculated every day routine.

It didn’t seem like anything special at first, just a regular Thursday afternoon, but looking back now you can’t help but feel like the world came to a halt for the moment where Wen Junhui walked into your café. He was curious of the new environment you observed as he entered, eyes scanning his surroundings until they inevitably fell onto you. That’s when you first really started to pay attention to him as a person, his cat like eyes locking onto yours and seeming to shine with something you didn’t have the time to determine before he came bounding up to the counter.

A little shyly at first, but gaining confidence the more he spoke, he let out a little ramble about how he discovered the place. “Hi there, I was wondering around the area looking for somewhere to grab a bite and then I saw this little place hiding away and couldn’t help but be enticed by the idea of coffee. Then I saw the cats and just needed to come inside, so I was wondering if I get an iced americano and pet some of the cuties about.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle at the end that shocked yourself as you were typically a bit more stoic in nature, but something about this boy let your guard lower even in your first moments. “Sure, you can take a seat anywhere, treats are in the jar on the counter to the left and I’ll get started on your drink. Could I get a name, Sunshine boy?”

“Uh, Wen Junhui, just Jun works actually.”

“Thanks, I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”

He blushed for a moment before retreating towards the other counter and you turned around to get started. The moments you took to make the drink seemed to stretch out and feel like eternity, when all you really wanted to do was observe the boy you couldn’t help but feel rivalled the sun. You were in for an even bigger shock though as upon walking over you couldn’t help but come to a halt as you took in the scene in front of you. It seemed his charms even worked on the feline species, as Bandit, the notoriously hard to win over older cat had been comfortably positioned himself lounging across Jun’s lap.

“I see you’ve made a friend there, huh Bandit, your normally rather specific with your choices. He hasn’t taken to anyone other than me before, you must be special then Mister Wen.”

“Oh, uh you can call me Jun, but he just needed a little scratch and love before he climbed right on top of me.”

“Well, I trust he has good tastes, here’s your coffee, I’ll be over there if you need anything…”

“Wait! Uh, would you be free to keep me company, no issue if you can’t, I just thought that since we’re the only ones in here...”

“Jun, it’s okay, I’d love to, give me one sec, to put some of this stuff down and then I’ll come sit down.”

You both spent the next two hours appreciating the company and conversation that felt natural to the both of you, before he eventually left with promises to return when possible.

And return he did.

Every week Jun would stumble into your little abode and spend time with both you and Bandit, becoming closer as you got to know each other. It wasn’t any surprise for you, when you inevitably started to fall for the boy you called sunshine and spent most afternoons either texting or hanging out with. He was just impossible not to like, which is why you were sure nothing would ever come from it, as a guy like Jun surely must already have someone who could give him the stars. You were content with admiring from afar as long as he continued to shine.

Eventually your lives started to overlap and intertwine even more, when you started to meet each other’s friends and spend weekends curled up watching shows at one of your apartments. Saturday nights becoming movie nights for the two of you, with occasional interruptions from the new combined friend group. Your close friends Seungkwan and Seokmin had really hit it off with his dance partner and roommate Soonyoung, when they first met one day at the café. As a result, they often burst through your door to spend time hanging out as a group followed by Jun and his other two roommates: a photographer and art enthusiast by the name of Xu Minghao and a university student by the name Lee Chan, with a strange nickname of Dino. Your week becoming much more enjoyable with the additions of them all into your life and you can’t help the smiles that now seem to come out whenever they’re around.

As it turns out though, you weren’t the only person who had a hobby of observing, as Minghao soon caught onto your little crush and liked to lovingly tease you about it in private. Your friendship allowing room for playful teasing and banter between the two of you, with a greater bond developing after you discovered your shared love of artwork. Although, he also became your biggest supporter in your little crush, which you did struggle to understand at first. You couldn’t comprehend how he thought you were worthy of bringing sunshine boy happiness and love. You were sure he deserved someone better than yourself, but Hao wouldn’t hear it and even pushed forward with encouraging you to confess. After then he would go out of his way to distract the others while you all hung out allowing the both of you some time to yourselves.

The result of which led to a moment on a warm, summer Saturday night, where the two of you found yourself sat watching the sunset on the local riverbank. The orange and pink hues highlighting the scene and making it feel like something out of a movie. Your bodies naturally coming to become close to one another until you were basically leaning on Jun while your eyes never left the sinking sun.

However, he couldn’t help but stare at your face as it lit up with the different hues that painted patterns across your features, his focus flickering to your lips more often than could be considered friendly. In the end, he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was the sinking sun or the ways your eyes seemed to sparkle as you turned to face him that gave him the confidence.

Whatever it was though, he can’t help but thank the universe as your lips finally connect and the world jumps back into motion. His entrance into your life stopping your universe and allowing you time to run towards hope and happiness, before your kiss restarted the universe as your chase comes to an end. Your sunshine boy had brought it straight to your door.

And as the light disappears beneath the earth and the night encompasses the sky, you realise maybe you could give him the stars, just like how he gave you the sun.

──────────────────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────────────────

#bee's writing #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #wen junhui #wen junhui x reader #moon junhui #moon junhui x reader #minghao #xu minghao #lee chan #seungkwan #lee seokmin #creative writing

[manicplank]

The Color Pink (Part 10)

Uhhh this one took me a while to get to bc my brain went on vacation.

Hazel had been on cloud nine since her last date with The Noise. Even though it had been days, it felt like it all happened yesterday. For some strange reason, life felt completely different. She found herself smiling a lot, especially when she thought of him. She was itching to see him again, but she didn't want to seem clingy. However, she couldn't seem to contain herself. It had been so long since she felt a love like this, and she wanted to cherish every moment. She paced back and forth as she waited for their usual 7 o'clock phone call. The phone rang, and she picked it up without hesitation; "Hi, Theo!"

"Hey! How-"

"We should go on another date!"

He chuckled. "Eager, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I am. Sorry," she laughed nervously.

"I mean, I don't disagree."

"Great!"

"What were you thinking we do?"

"Um... I didn't think about that."

"I don't have any ideas."

"Hmmm..."

They went silent for a minute.

"Oh!" Hazel said, "I got it! Why don't we go stargazing? There's an opening in Picnic Park where you can see the stars!"

"How... How does that work?"

"What?"

"How can we see the stars when we're in a tower?"

"I don't know. I try not to think about it too much, it gives me a headache."

"That's fair."

"Do you maybe want to do it tonight?"

"That's a little short notice. I'm also kind of tired."

"Right, right, right. Sorry. I'm just excited to see you."

He chuckled again. "It's okay. If you want, we can do it tomorrow night, though."

Hazel hummed in thought for a minute. "Oh, yeah, that actually works out better. I'm not opening the cafe tomorrow."

"How come?"

"I want a three day weekend. I need some time off."

"That's understandable. I do that every now and again. I can set my own hours sometimes. It has to be approved occasionally. There was one time I took a week off because I just didn't feel like going to work."

"Really? That sounds... nice."

"It is, but I got so behind. It was bad. So yeah, that's why some of my extra days off need to be pre-approved."

"I try not to take too many days off. I guess it really doesn't matter much since I don't get a lot of customers."

"Hey, what did I say about that mindset?"

"I know, I know. I'm just saying. As much as I enjoy The Vigilante's company, it gets a little tiring hearing him rambling on and on about justice and this and that."

"Ugh, you deserve an award for dealing with him so often. I can't stand that guy."

"He's uh... He's an acquired taste."

"He suuuuucks!"

"Oh, be nice."

"That's not really my thing."

"Mhm, okay. I call bullshit."

"Yeah? How come?"

"You're nice to me."

"Only to you."

She let out a small giggle. "I believe that."

"I hate to cut it short, but I'm feeling really tired. I'm probably gonna make some food and head to bed."

"Okay. What time do you want to meet up tomorrow?"

"How about 8 or 9?"

"Why so late?"

"I thought you wanted to go stargazing."

"Oh! Right!" She laughed.

"Okay, well... Goodnight, Hazel."

"Goodnight, Theodore."

-

Hazel had suffered through the anticipation of the whole day waiting for their date. The day went by so slowly. She felt as if she was stuck in waiting mode. She got ready in something casual. She left her hair as was. She put on a cute pink Hello Kitty t-shirt with some straight leg blue jeans and white sneakers. She felt that she had been overeager to see him, so she wanted to dress to impressive. Play it cool, she thought.

She called a cab and headed down to the Gnome Forest. She walked over to Picnic Park. She saw some goblins that looked unusually like The Noise. She actually thought one of them was him, but when she called to it, it didn't respond. When she got to the park, she saw The Noise waiting for her. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a yellow bomber jacket and blue jeans with black Vans. He ran up to her and picked her up with a spin. She laughed as she held on to his shoulder.

"Hey," she spoke through laughter.

"Hi," he chuckled. "I was waiting for you." He put her down softly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be late."

"No, no, I got here kind of early. We didn't specify whether we were meeting at 8 or 9 so I got here at 8."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing! It's not your fault."

"Okay, okay." She giggled. "Here," she grabbed his hand. "I'll show you where the opening is."

"Heh heh..."

"What?"

He snickered. "Nothing, it's just the way you said that."

She smiled and shook her head. "You have a dirty mind."

He cackled as she tugged his arm. They came to a small area of grass. Above them was an opening in the trees that showed the night sky. Amazingly, the stars were bright and abundant. There were so many of them, which was funny considering they were inside a tower. Hazel looked at him and smiled when she saw him looking upward. "This is the spot I was telling you about."

"Yeah," he looked at her. "You weren't kidding."

"I mean, I haven't been here in a while. I really don't have to. If I want to go stargazing, all I would have to do is look at you."

He blushed and rubbed the back of his head. "Stop... I'm not that famous..."

"Are you kidding? You're like the most famous person in the tower. I think more people know you than Pizzaface."

"Whatever," he poked her, and she giggled.

Hazel sat down and so did Theo. They laid down slowly and looked up. The sky was pitch black, decorated with sparkling stars of white, red, green, and blue. The stars in the tower were so different from the stars outside. They had all sorts of different patterns and shapes.

"I remember," Theo spoke, "when I was a kid, we went to a planetarium as a school field trip. It was really cool."

"I went to one, too," Hazel responded, "my school did the same thing!"

"We got to see space ship equipment, pieces of space suits and meteorites. Then they took us to this dome room where they had all the stars. They showed us the constellations and told us their backstories."

"Really? I didn't get that experience as a kid."

"Yeah. The only constellation I can still spot is Orion. You can only see it during the winter. Well, it starts in the fall, and that's how I know winter's coming."

"That's really cool! I don't know where the constellations are. I only really know what they're called."

"I'm surprised no one's made up constellations for the stars in here."

"We could make some."

"Yeah, we could, but I'm not the most creative."

She looked at him. "Really? You, not the creative type?" She was very sarcastic.

He looked at her and laughed. "I guess I am, but not when it comes to constellations."

"Let's test it out." She pointed at a few stars in the shape of two squares. "How about that one?"

"Uhhh... A book, maybe?"

"Or nerdy glasses."

He chuckled. "That one kind of sucked."

She slapped his forearm. "Be nice!"

"I am!" He laughed.

She sighed, "I guess you're right. Two squares isn't the most impressive thing in the world."

"Hmmm..." He pointed at some stars in the shape of an asterisk. "How about that one?"

"Mmm... I don't really see anything."

"It's a flower." He grabbed her hand and traced the pattern with her finger.

"Oh! I see it now!"

He snickered. As she continued to stare at the stars, he turned his head to her. He observed her and how pretty she was. He scanned her from her head to her toes with a smile on his face. He was completely enamored by her. This beautiful girl lay beside him. He thought about how he was originally flirting with her out of lust, but quickly, he fell for her. He had never met anyone quite like her. She was so kind, upbeat, and outgoing. She brought out a side of him that he didn't even know existed. She turned her head to him and noticed him staring.

"Hi," she spoke.

"Hey," he replied.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I don't know."

"You sure?"

"I... Heh, I don't know that either." He chuckled nervously.

"I have to ask you about something you said."

"Oh?"

"It was, uh... something you said when you were drunk."

His eyes widened, and his heart sank. "Oh..." He didn't remember what he had said to her.

"You told me... Well, you told me that you liked me."

"..." He stared at her in bewilderment.

"What did you mean by that?"

"Oh, well, um..." He looked up at the sky and gulped. "I, uh..." He took a deep breath and sighed. "Hazel... I like you. I like your eyes. I like your smile. I like the way you talk. I like the way your voice sounds. I like how you get excited over the smallest of things. I like how you squeak and hop around when you're happy. I like that you're resilient and don't give up when things get challenging. I like that you're authentically yourself no matter what. I like it when you come around, and I like it when you're there. I like that you treat me like a normal person. I like that you worry about me, like when it was raining and you were worried I'd get sick. I like that you're a bit assertive with me. I like that we call and talk on the phone every day. I like how soft your hands are, and I like when you let me hold them. I like it when we hug. A-a-and I liked it when we kissed. I like that you make me nervous but you also make me calm.

I like you, Hazel. I really, really do."

Hazel was smiling with tears in her eyes. "Wow, Theodore... That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

He sat up. "I just," he sighed, "I don't want to rush things. I don't want to get my heart broken, and I surely don't want to break yours. I guess, in a way, I'm afraid. I already feel like I don't deserve you, like you're too good for me. You're such a genuinely sweet and good person, and well... To be honest, when I first met you, I was only flirting with you to get lucky. And before I met you, I was basically an alcoholic. I drank before work, after work, in the morning, and before bed. I stopped drinking as much once we started talking. I'm still working on getting my drinking under control. I'm short-tempered and nasty. There's so many horrible, horrible things about me that you haven't seen yet. So many things that make me feel like I shouldn't be doing this with you." Theo sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye.

"Theodore, look," Hazel sat up, scooted next to him, and gently grabbed the side of his face to make him look at her. "I like you, too. I like how nervous you get. I like that you're pushing through that nervousness for me. I like that you care about me. I like that you try to help me out with my business. I like that you make time for me when you're so busy. I like your smile. I like your laugh. I like that you're so silly and goofy. I like that you're truthful with me. I like that you told me about all that.

But you know what I don't like? I don't like how hard you are on yourself. I don't like that you seem to think that you're such a horrible person. I don't like that you see all the good things in me but none of the good things about yourself. There are bad things about me, too. Things you haven't seen yet. Things that you're probably not going to like, things that I don't even like.

I think you're good enough for me. Matter of fact, I think you're even better than that. Come here."

She pulled him in for a hug. He sniffled again and shed a few silent tears into her shoulder. She pulled back to see that he was crying. She put her hands on his cheeks. "No tears," she said ever so softly. "I like you, too. Okay?"

He nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay."

She hugged him again and rubbed his back. She felt his whole body relax in her arms. He felt her shiver slightly and pulled back.

"Are you okay," he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, I'm just a little cold." She smiled and shrugged.

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Here."

"Oh, no, no," she tried to stop him.

"No, you're cold."

"But you'll-"

"Hazel." He looked her in the eye. "You need this more than I do."

She smiled and blushed as she put her arms through the sleeves of the jacket. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I have a pretty good cold tolerance. I'll be fine."

They laid down side by side with their hands clasped together, their fingers intertwined. Hazel felt incredibly warm and safe with his jacket around her. She leaned her head on Theodore's shoulder as they continued to stargaze. They continued to point out silly shapes they noticed in the stars and gave them even sillier names. As the night continued on, things got quiet. Theo got a little concerned. He looked over to see that Hazel had dozed off on his shoulder. He smiled and snickered. He nudged her gently with his elbow to wake her up. She slowly picked her head up. Her eyes were squinted with confusion.

"Hey," he spoke under his breath.

"What happened," she muttered.

"You fell asleep."

She shot up. "Oh, my gosh! I'm so sorry!"

He sat up and laughed. "It's okay."

She covered her face in embarrassment. "I'm not usually up this late." She huffed. "I'm usually in bed super early so I can wake up early for the cafe."

"Do you wanna go home?"

"No! I mean, yeah, but..."

"Want me to take you home?"

"No, I'll call a cab this time. Thanks, though."

"Come on," he stood up and held his hand out. "I'll walk you to the street."

She grabbed his hand, and he helped her up. They walked slowly through the park with their hands held. Hazel was so flustered, she couldn't believe she fell asleep on him during their date! Theodore thought it was absolutely adorable that she felt safe enough with him to fall asleep on his shoulder. He wasn't at all mad. As they strolled towards the street, Theodore stopped her and leaned on a tree. He grabbed her other hand and held both of them.

"Why are we stopping?" She was incredibly confused.

Theodore's heart was racing. His legs were weak and felt like they could give out at any moment. With a nervous smile, he asked,

"Hazel... Will you be my girlfriend?"

Hazel's eyes grew wide and she gasped.

"Oh... My... Gosh!!!" She jumped up and down with her hands still in his. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! YESSS!!!" She let out a small squeal before she yanked him into hug, still hopping around and giggling in joy. When they pulled away from the hug, she grabbed the back of his head and kissed him deeply. She started to giggle and hop around again, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on hers. Her cab pulled up, and she looked at it before kissing him again.

"I have to go," she said with a giant smile.

"Yeah. I'll see you."

"Bye!" She pecked him on the lips one more time. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Go home, go to bed." He pat her on the shoulder as she ran towards the cab.

He watched her run off with a giant smile on his face. She couldn't see it, but his face was beet red. He was so happy she said yes. He couldn't believe he finally worked up the courage to ask her. After the conversation they had before, he finally felt secure enough. He was a bit anxious, but he had to take the chance. And he was so glad he did.

That night, Hazel had trouble sleeping. She was suddenly struck with energy and excitement after he asked her out. She paced around her bedroom for a good hour before she settled down to sleep. She realized she forgot to give him back his jacket in her fit of exhilaration. But it was so soft and warm, and it smelled like him, too. She finally laid down, falling asleep while wearing his jacket.

#pizza tower #noise #the noise #noisette #pink fic

[be-good-be-safe-be-kind]

mkcember 13: perseverance

[ day(s) in the life of jake 🚕 | 1614 words ]

🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙 🚕 🌙

the worn leather interior of the cab is familiar; its scent is as comforting as the way he fits in the seat behind the wheel, but something is not quite right. the vehicle is his, of that he can be certain, and the soft purr of the engine settles over him like a warm blanket, but he cannot remember turning the key in the ignition.

the last thing he remembers is that he had been looking for the damn key.

stars glimmer in the clear night sky, a sky too clear for him to still be in the city, which means whatever he had been doing had been away from their usual base of operations. there is no satnav on the dashboard, and while the car has plenty of old diner receipts and scratch-off lottery tickets littered around, he still has standards. the car is still his car, and he makes the decisions around here, and as long as there is air flowing through his lungs and blood pumping through his veins, his car is going to remain as classic as possible.

there are no maps on his lap or on the passenger seat, so he must have made this trip before, and the thought causes him to relax a bit.

and you will continue to make it again, and again, until i no longer have a use for you.

¿quién dijo eso?

his hands move without his permission, sharply pulling back on the wheel as the rumbling words worm their way into his entire being.

tires squeal as the car drifts across the road, slick with rainwater, and his eyes remain open as everything fades to a black so deep that he would need a knife to cut through it.

eso es lo que pasa cuando bajas la guardia.

"jake? did you want another coffee before you head out?" a soft voice brings the color back into his world.

"coffee… yeah, that sounds good, thanks," he replies, surprised by both the question and his own answer. the voices are warm and strong, and while those traits seem to fit the woman in the apron, they do not feel like they fit him. something crawls under his skin, fast and urgent, telling him to get up and out and run as far away as possible. he keeps his body in a seated position, and while he implicitly trusts his instincts, there is no need to paint a target on my back. something else has made itself at home in his forehead, something less frantic but something just as mobile, and that, combined with a dull pain in the base of his neck, seem to hold him in place.

he looks around and tries to process his surroundings. 'jake.' bright lights, hanging over small booths. reruns of a sitcom playing on a tv in the corner. a big round clock, surrounded by a ring of neon red, showing the time as five thirty. outside, the sky is a deep blue, and traffic moves slowly; is it morning or evening? on the stool beside him, a man with a colorful sweater and colorful vocabulary talks a mile a minute like he has a thesaurus where his brain should be. there is a small shadow on the counter in front of him, and by the time he figures out it is his hat, jake has also figured out that he is jake.

gena refills his mug and takes crawley's plate back to the kitchen, and just like that, the various headaches dissipate. he smiles and nods along to crawley's rambles, sipping on the strong coffee for the sake of its taste, not the immediate need for caffeine, and for a moment, jake finds himself living.

jake is living, driving around the city that never sleeps, meeting with crawley and ricky and ray and others who seem to know him, even though jake cannot place their names nor their faces. he is living, and it is all so foreign to him, having people to check on and having people check on him just because they want to, not because they need anything. jake is working, sometimes in back alleys, sometimes in boardrooms, sometimes on rooftops, and he cannot seem to remember the details of a job once it ends, so he keeps working. he keeps moving, he keeps driving, because the slightest break in action means that jake has time to think about anything else, which means the return of la voz de la luna reverberating in his skull.

a sliver of moonlight peeks out from thick storm clouds, watching over jake and mocking him as he starts one night by swapping his cap for a cowl and ends it with his back slamming against a concrete wall. a piece of his brain breaks along with five vertebrae and a rib or two, and he knows this is far from the first time they have shattered, but he gets up and he keeps moving, driving his fist and then his car through the bastard who had the brilliant idea of selling drugs to kids behind a rec center.

surviving, it turns out, is a hell of a lot lonelier after months - years? - of living. it hurts, now, not just the physical injuries and the pit in his stomach as his dwindling supply of cash and assets lead to the once-familiar question of whether he should buy medical supplies and water or food and shelter, but the hole in his chest where his heart had been warm. he catalogues each sprain and scratch, each bruise and break, keeping a close eye on it all as he prioritises and re-prioritises how to treat each one.

he compartmentalizes everything else - name included - into matchbooks and minibar bottles and he keeps driving. 

he stops to work odd jobs in exchange for gas money or food, and digs through the rubbish bins behind fast food places, and he keeps moving. he risks going to large department stores to 'try on' clothing and smuggle toiletries into his pockets, rather than taking them from the corner stores and mom-and-pop shops. this is familiar territory, manageable, and it may not be good work but he is good at making it work.

you truly are pathetic. i gave you life, ingrate, i gave you a mission, and this is how you thank me?

"if you gave me life," he mumbles, shivering in the back of his car with his jacket draped over him like a blanket. the whiskey weighs heavily on his tongue, and he should keep quiet, but he is so tired that he can no longer ignore the headaches and the voices, no longer ignore that they are not just voices, but he can no longer bring himself to care about their opinions regarding la luna. "if you gave me life," he repeats, "you can take it back."

what is that american phrase? "do not threaten me with a good time"? 

he chuckles weakly. "something like that," he replies. the freezing air is so cold that it burns, and he drifts into sleep with bizarre images of mummified snowmen and floral pyramids floating through his head.

he sleeps soundly for a minute or five; he sleeps restlessly for another hour or an entire day. his dreams are vivid, filled with bursts of sounds and colors, smells and sensations and tastes that are almost too lifelike to be imaginary. the names and voices from his headaches are there, too, each one looking and sounding more or less like he does. if he was awake, it would be extremely disconcerting, but he cannot possibly be awake, not for things like this, so he lets it all wash over him.

"mon ami? s'il te plaît, réveillez-vous."

"he's gone, frenchie. there's nothing we can do anymore."

the conversation continues as he sinks lower and lower into turbulent grey waters, vaguely aware of the ambulance and fire engines around them. the ocean takes him, keeps him in a state of suspension for a week or a month, and the dreams return, taking him to new places and showing him new masks and faces.

"mama? when's uncle jake play dinos with me 'gain?"

"oh, honey. dia, uncle jake is… he's sleeping, remember? he's in this special bed in the hospital because it might be a long time before he wakes up. that's why he has all of these things around the bed, to help his body until he can wake up."

"but he sleeped already so so long!"

the little girl and her mother keep talking, but the voices of his system drown them out, panicking as they realize the extent of their injuries, and all of the tension and disorganization kickstarts jake's heart. the ventilator is suffocating, the bed-sheets are itchy, and everything is simultaneously painful and numb, but he keeps his heart rate level. 

his monitors begin beeping, and a gasp causes jake to open his eyes. everything is blurry, and by the time he can see the child bouncing in marlene's arms, pink pigtails whipping around her face, reaching out to him with a plush dinosaur as big as her body, someone in the cramped room has already flagged down a nurse to help him sit up.

welcome back to the land of the living, brother.

we missed you, jake. we all missed you.

"see! see, mama! told you he's come back!"

jake's eyes water as he looks around the room, at the people who include him in their lives, at everyone who makes his existence about more than just survival.

"i always come back, kiddo," jake says hoarsely, "might take a while, but i always come back."

#🌙 #📝

[134340am]

for the madeup fic game, idk why my brain immediately thought of the words "banana bread" but here i am with the title "banana bread" if you can think of anything 😂

hello my pretty rae! happy tuesday <3

for banana bread, i'm thinking of a light-hearted crack fic where bokuto is cursed at birth to drop any and all foods that he compliments after the first bite.

it started when he was a kid, just a little guy at the park chomping down on some ice cream on a hot summer's day. he's saved up enough to try a new flavour—today's treat is strawberry ice cream encased in a thin layer of mochi. "yum," he mutters to himself after the first bite: a small, tentative one, where he rolls the flavour about on his tongue afterwards. when he goes in for a second, bigger bite, he drops his ice cream.

fuck.

bokuto swears by his dad's toast. it somehow tastes better, though it's just toast? the outside is a stunning golden brown, the balance between the crunchy crust and the pillowy insides is perfect, and the little pad of butter his dad slides on top the hot toast is just the right amount—enough to coat the entire surface of his breakfast without getting it soggy and greasy.

"it's just toast, but it's awesome every single time, pa," he once said through a generous mouthful of said toast, before his fingers twitch and his breakfast goes barrelling towards the floor.

gravity 1, bokuto 0.

(screw this shit, he hates it here.)

he's mindful of his compliments to the chef now. pizza, beef rice bowls, cold soba in the summer and hot oden in the winter: whatever he's eating, bokuto's careful to express his appreciation for the food only after he's had at least half of it.

until he met you.

the humble bakery down the street serving the freshest pastries has been the fruit of your labour for the past five years. lemon pound cake, pain au chocolat, darling little vanilla cupcakes and giant chocolate chip cookies—your menu is sure to satisfy anyone with a sweet tooth. your best seller, however, is your banana bread: the caramelised exterior and fluffy interior, in addition to the overpowering smell that wafts through the street every morning, had people queueing up long before your bakery opens.

bokuto is no exception.

he's almost in tears when he tries your banana bread for the first time, teeth sinking into the crispy crust to find the soft sponge underneath and a satisfied hum already brewing in the back of his throat.

before he can help himself, he speaks, "this is the best banana bread i've ever had."

shitshitshit, he shouldn't have said that.

bokuto cringes, awaiting the familiar numbness to take over his fingers, awaiting the dreaded fall of the delicious banana bread from his hand...

...but it never comes.

when he opens his eyes, he's puzzled to find the golden-brown square still intact between his thumb and index finger. huh, that's weird.

"this banana bread is— it's, um. amazing. delicious. wonderfully tasty," he tries, eyes fixated on the dessert. he even takes another bite for good measure, nibbling at the corner where a bit of caramelised crust has formed. he starts rambling when nothing happens. "this banana bread is lovely. i'd eat it everyday, for breakfast and lunch and dinner. maybe even supper, but my trainer says i shouldn't eat too late or i'll mess up my circular rhythm. my circulator rhythm? what's the damn word— anyways, this is good. like, great good."

nothing happens. his little slice of banana bread, now down to a piece the size of his thumb, sits unharmed in his hands.

a grin breaks across his face, lighting up the room almost immediately. "holy shit!"

"holy shit is right, sir." you slide into the seat opposite his, armed with another slice of banana bread on a plate. your smile mirrors his, amusement decorating your pretty features, and bokuto feels his heart rate pick up even more—something he didn't know was possible.

"i'm glad you like my banana bread. it's our bestseller, and you probably know that, but nobody's really complimented it the way you have." you laugh good-naturedly, sliding the plate across the table. bokuto's eyes flick from your face to the bread and back, heart soaring.

"well, i hope you know i was telling the truth," he starts, almost shyly. "would you, um, like to share this piece?"

send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it!

#omfggggggg this turned into a whole ass DRABBLE i am so sorry rae i got carried away... >o< #but yes!!! this is a fic i would write (and have now written i guess) if banana bread was the title #inspired by how for the longest time i'd drop whatever i was eating if i complimented it after the first bite #i'm still mourning my garlic bread... and steamed corn... and chicken skewer.... that i've dropped in the past... #anyways thank you so so much for asking <3 i hope you liked this! heh #okay i'm gonna tag so i don't let my hard work go to waste heh don't mind meeeee #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #bokuto fluff #yuna writes #ask yuna #beloved rae

[cherriko-art]

I just want to thank the Tumblr community from the bottom of my heart for helping me find joy in drawing again. For helping me find art a little less scary with every comment I get. And to remind people, once again, how much of an impact positive engagement has for creators, no matter how small or big.

Long, midnight ramble on my struggles with art below.

Late night thoughts, but lately my motivation for drawing has been rekindled as a way to release the brain rot on the fandoms and games I've loved recently. I lost my love for art for a really, really long time and for someone who's been drawing since I could pick up a pencil, and has identified as an artist my entire life, literally witnessing myself lose my love for art and drawing has been a really painful process. Especially since it happened over a relatively short period of time. Over 20 years of loving and creating art, only to be extinguished in just a small period of 2 years. When I came to a sudden realization that I hated drawing, I mourned over it for a really long time. I missed the joy I got from drawing, the pride in my art, the passion to learn and hone my skills. I used to think I could never imagine a future where I wasn't constantly thinking about the next thing I wanted to draw, but now I am living that future. Art is never on my mind anymore. I try to draw and I become filled with anxiety and dread. There's not a single thought about picking up my pencil and creating. The only things I had drawn in the last 4 years were for zines and it felt like work, not joy. Drawing felt like a job, and it stopped being the center of my universe. I stopped being active on social media, bc I was only on here for art. But even looking at other people's art left a bitter taste, and I didn't want to look at any of it anymore. Several times over the last few years I've tried to rekindle my love for art, tried starting small again. But it always fizzled out quickly, and I'd abandon it again. Sometimes I scroll through my Instagram and it hurts to look at, because I distinctly remember how much joy I got from drawing every single piece, what my thought process was, and how excited I felt in creating. It's been so long since I've felt happiness in drawing.

Lately, I've drawn some things bc my emotions for the brain rots in my head were Too Big and I couldn't think of releasing these big emotions in anything other than what I know. In art. I just drew something, didn't think too hard abt it, and posted them. Like barfing your overwhelming feelings on paper then throwing it away. But the engagement I've gotten on these emotional-dump drawings have been so wonderful, no matter how small or big, and it's made me so happy. Very specifically from Tumblr. Tumblr has reminded me what it's like to actually interact with fandoms again. Instagram/Twitter/etc has become such a competitive platform for content creators, that any sense of (the minimal) community and fandom interactions have been completely wiped out. But Tumblr has stayed true to it's roots through all these years and never have I been more grateful.

For the first time in years, I'm excited to draw again. I actually want to draw. I finished multiple drawings in the last 2 weeks, more than I have in years. Instead of feeling numb and exhausted after drawing like I had been, I'm actually filled with adrenaline and excitement to draw more. I'm excited to participate in fandoms again, engage in communities. This is all because other people's positive engagements on my little drawings have motivated me to draw more.

Drawing has become a very daunting, anxiety-filled, unpleasant experience for me. I lost my love for art years ago. But the positive engagement in my recent art has pushed away some of that anxiety, and it's becoming increasingly easier for me to pick up that pencil again. Drawing is starting to feel fun again. I don't know how long this will last, if it will fizzle out like it has time and time again. I don't know if art will turn back into the Big, Bad Monster again. But for now, I'm just relishing in the feeling of art feeling like freedom again. And I have the Tumblr community to thank for that.

So for everyone on here, thank you.

#cherry rambles #midnight thoughts #in ND terms art has been my special interest my whole life then some bad experiences ended up with art causing me a ton of anxiety and drea #since art became a trigger for negative emotions my brain switched off its interest in it #bc art was no longer a source of dopamine #then all of a sudden a life-long special interest fizzled out instantly into dust #anything related to art became dust in my mind #i had absolutely no interest in it whatsoever #and that hurt more than anything #bc no matter how hard I tried I couldn't rekindle that joy in drawing anymore #adhd peeps if ykyk #but after a few positive interactions on my recent art my brain has now latched on again it is SO happy #and now all I wanna do is draw??? bc its giving dopamine again??? all of a sudden my brain is like HELL YEAH ART!! #and god its like I can /breathe/ again for the first time in years #I feel like ME again - the person that loves art

[seoafin]

hello everyone i am NOT dead!!! i am so sorry for ignoring all your kindhearted and amazing messages so here is a small (not really) completely random rambling update on me and this blog

italian food is good but the lack of actual asian food here is driving me insane. there is no rice. i went to the supermarket to buy rice. it was risotto rice.

traveling is a slay i've gone to so many places in europe and italy and i really say to hate it but i absolutely adored london even though im still not sure whether or not british people are faking their accent. it sounds so fake. i went to the shakesphere globe and managed to catch a play but i wish i could've watched six too!!! also watched black panther 2 in london and it was phenomenal. top 3 marvel movies. food in london was also phenomenal but that's because i had nothing but asian food. the boba was HORRIBLE. i think it was bad luck but the 3 times i got boba it just tasted horrible like idk how gong cha and truedan could do me like this i still feel betrayed

very much looking forward to going back to the states where i can get amazing asian food. italy is beautiful but way too small. i cannot wait to go back to uni in the states and never have to see another face i don't want to ever again!!! study abroad in italy has made me so grateful i go to uni in a big city thank god i did not go to one of the seven sister schools

i have been reading so much since coming here. i've been also going back to some of my childhood favorites like ella enchanted and poison study. i also went back to one of my favorite childhood series gregor the overlander and it devastated me so much i was unable to function for a full three days after i finished the last book. suzanne collins packs such a heavy punch in her writing i still cannot believe gto is a children's series 😭😭 it is so devastating and so fucked up the fact that it got published is insane. will probably die on the hill that it is better than animorphs.

i am trying to write but i think not writing for the last couple of months has made my writing brain shrivel because every sentence i write does not sound Good and makes me Cringe. i am trying to get back into the flow of writing by writing a little everyday but it is not looking good 😭 i am also trying to get my dash more active by following more ppl (mainly writers) but i am shy and picky and too content with the people i do follow 😫 i do have some ppl i wanna follow in mind i've just never followed...if that makes sense. say it makes sense.

i think the jjk inspo will return when jjk s2 comes out but for rn i think i do wanna complete that teru fic for nothing more than the sole reason of finishing it LOL

as for the jjk manga.....i still have not completely caught up but some of the stuff i've seen is....incheresting.

that being said, i have seen the new chapters of hxh and im so obsessed with the fact that we're getting chrollo's backstory guess togashi decided it was finally time😭

ohhhh right i watched the eagerly anticipated 1899 and it did NOT disappoint highly recommend it's on netflix. dark was better but dark was fantastic so anything that comes even remotely close can be considered amazing.

#can you tell i miss asian food. i miss kimchi. i can't eat spaghetti anymore. #returning to the states in 2 more weeks..... #this is absolutely completely random but i did say i was rambling so #i have so much more i wanna say but i think i'll just end it here anyway i hope everyone that reads this message is doing well #i WILL be more active but i will also be deleting my inbox and starting fresh #it makes me too nervous looking at all the messages i never answered i am sorry 😭 #mt

[raybyanothername]

Hey Ray! Have you ever gotten any offers to have a beta reader for your writing? Or ever considered having a beta reader? Just to check for any errors you never caught or any awkward sentences.

This is meant as a curious question and no bad taste towards your writing. You're one of my favorite writers on Ao3 and inspires me a lot!

I have gotten offers and once upon a time (back in ye olden days of fanfiction.net) I did attempt to use a beta reader a few times. Some writers I know swear by having a beta reader and I totally get that, but I crave instant validation in the form of clicking a post button. So... I haven't used a beta in years.

If people find typos and message me, I don't mind, but I generally fix typos when I reread. My current system involves me using a Read Aloud Add On in Firefox while I do my adulting. Depending on the mood/activity, I will fix as I listen, or I will ignore and come back to it later.

Yesterday, I was listening to RAMD while packing for example. Didn't fix any of the typos I noticed. When I was knitting the other day though, I was listening to Protector and I would go in and fix the typos when I noticed them.

I usually only end up doing a proper edit when I typeset my fics. Which I do once they're 100% finished and I have time/energy/motivation. So, like, Fear in His Eyes has been fully edited, as has A Proper Arrangement. But very few others. (I did find one small typo in Fear when I was reading the physical copy though, so it's not 100%.)

Recently, I will admit to contemplating typesetting the earlier chapters of Secret. But I also lowkey want to wait till I finish so I can remember to standardize stuff like capitlizing Hand when referring to the hand of the king, or Dragon Pit versus dragon pit, etc. I could, theoretically, do that now while writing the second half of the fic, but you may recall my mentioning *energy* and *motivation* as factors too. ^^'

My method for writing and editing is a bit chaotic and definitely not one I would recommend for others, but it's where I've landed at the moment. It keeps me writing, which is the main goal.

I think my brain translates having a beta into my being more 'serious' with my writing and then saps all my motivation. *gestures vaguely at my languishing original fiction wips* So I haven't tried that in a long while, but I haven't ruled it out entirely for the future.

Hope that answers your question! I always enjoying rambling a bit about my process. Glad you're enjoying my fics! 🥰

#ray rambles #ask ray #writing life #writing advice #writing

[koolkat9]

👀

(Also, wanted to take the chance to say that I love ur GerEng AUs and fics. When I first got into Hetalia (a bit over 2 years ago) and started to know England and Germany, my brain totally went “oh yeah they make one great ship” only to be disappointed at how little is out there of these two. Like how come ppl not see how great they are together - there’s just so much goddamn potential! And now over 14 years later since the anime, it seems the fandom as a whole still didn’t catch up on this. Alas, I found u and I’m infinitely glad for tht. Thanks for being here and not making me feel like the only one cursed with liking a rare ship.)

Sorry this took forever. These things took way longer than I thought.

Oh my gosh! This is so sweet thank you🥰.

There really isn't a lot of content for them and that's a shame... Though I think it's gained a bit more popularity thanks to the adlib the creator of Dreamtalia did in her play through of it which created a whole GerEng subplot (that's how I got into the ship) and then creators like Teethhoarder (who runs the blog asking-gereng and has made many great fanart and fics of them) and myself who has made so many little fics and headcanons for them specifically. But still, it is underrated compared to other ships.

That's actually part of the reason I started making content for them. There was so little of it. And now I've been going 3 years strong writing fics.

And don't worry there is actually a handful of us who ship it. Teeth like I've mentioned and there is a whole GerEng discord server (ran by yours truly). But listen to me ramble. You want an au.

---

Here's probably one of my favourite aus. GerEng Roadtrip AU.

We've got character arcs, slow burn, finding yourself. It's so good, I love it. The GerEng server was great for sharing ideas and we built on it together.

Anyway, Ludwig is going to university for engineering, but after his first year and after doing very poorly on an exam, he's devastated because perfectionism, but also something else bubbling underneath that he's yet to realize/acknowledge.

With the school year ending, Ludwig decides to go stay with his brother for the summer. After all, despite owning it for a couple years now, Ludwig never got to visit the record shop his brother opened and Ludwig needs to get away for a little bit so why not spend the summer in a small quaint town near a river?

Arthur is on of Gil's employees. He and Ludwig don't exactly get off on the right foot. Arthur's grouchy, prickly, a smoker. But Arthur catches Ludwig sifting through some rock albums and the two start to bond over their shared music taste, only to find out they actually have a lot in common and enjoy spending time together.

A little over a month before Ludwig is set to return to school, Arthur proposes they go on a road trip together. One last hurrah before they go their separate ways. Ludwig, feeling more and more anxious as the date of school approaches, agrees for the distraction.

They travel all over, to all kinds of little towns, seeing all kinds of sights. And in the process, learn that they're both kind of broken and lost but find comfort in each other.

Like one time they stay at a campground and have a campfire. Arthur brought his guitar so he strums a bit as they sit. Ludwig asks if Arthur can sing. And Arthur makes a weird face, but gives in and they end up singing together.

One time they stay at a hotel but because it's summer and there is a big event going on, almost all the hotels are booked up, so they have to stay in a room where there is only one bedTM.

They stop in the middle of no where to watch the sunset. And they may or may not share their first kiss in this moment.

They go to some big mall and they end up having to help a lost kid together. Ludwig falls harder seeing how Arthur is with kids.

But it's not all fun and games. Over the course of their trip Ludwig learns Arthur used to be in a rock band. They were just about to hit it big, in talks with fairly big record company only for Arthur to get a case of vocal nodes that changed his voice forever. It changed his sound, his range, and though he still sounds decent he hates how he sounds now. And even if he was find with the sound of his voice, he didn't have the vocal fortitude to be a professional singer. Just when his dream was about to come true it was all snatched away.

Gilbert, a fan of Arthur's band who had become a dear friend offered Arthur a job at the record store to try to help him back on his feet.

Singing with Ludwig during their travels was the first time Arthur sang after the damage. Ludwig thinks he sounds beautiful.

Arthur mentions in passing once that he used to be a singer in a band. So when Ludwig hears Arthur sing, he asks why he doesn't anymore. This leads to an argument as some of Arthur's old wounds open up, making him more defensive and Ludwig doesn't know the full story so he doesn't get why Arthur is suddenly angry.

But eventually Arthur opens up, reminiscing about going on little tours with his band to nearby towns. Ludwig of course listens intently to all the stories Arthur starts to share about his band. Arthur ends up getting a little emotional by the end and Ludwig just hugs him. They stay like that longer than they probably should but Arthur can't deny it makes him feel warm and fuzzy.

Ludwig has his own struggles. He is dealing with his first major failure and with a bad case of anxiety and perfectionism it isn't easy. But there is even more to it. Ludwig has long had the doubt that engineering and university in general is the right path. He knows he's smart enough to be there (even though his anxiety sometimes tries to tell him differently), but his just isn't passionate about what he's studying and if he was to change paths he doesn't know to what. Some of his shitty feelings from failing the exam are connected to this doubt though he's not fully aware of it yet.

Anyway. The car breaks down some time during their trip and Ludwig fixes it. Arthur notices how focused and in the zone Ludwig is working on the car. It reminds Arthur of how he would get playing music. He knows Ludwig is going to university and is struggling a bit, but there is much of story he's still missing. He doesn't even know what Ludwig is studying. So he finally asks about it. Since at this point Arthur has opened up to Ludwig, Ludwig figures it's only fair to open up to Arthur and perhaps finally confiding in someone will might make him feel better.

Ludwig finally admits he's not happy in his program, but he doesn't know what else to do and he doesn't want to disappoint anyone who had high expectations of them (everyone around him just assumed he'd go to university because he was so academically gifted).

"Fuck them all," Arthur replies, "Do what you want first. That's what I always did."

"It's not that easy for me," Ludwig fires back, "Plus...I don't even know what I want."

"I wonder why..."

"What?"

"Nothing. Look Ludwig. I couldn't pursue my dream job, now look at me. Wasting away in that old record shop. I don't want that with you. You have a chance to do something you love, take it. Pursue it until you can't."

"Arthur I-I don't..."

"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me. If you need an idea, I think you'd make a really good mechanic

Ludwig thinks about it. Reflects a bit and takes Arthur's words to heart and decides perhaps a mechanic apprenticeship would be his best path. He always liked tinkering with cars and machinery and being hands on with it. Wouldn't hurt to at least look into the idea.

Ludwig, thankful for Arthur helping him onto the right path, wants to help Arthur find a new passion or a way he can embrace music in a different way. Ludwig recalls how Arthur taught him a few cords on guitar and how good of a teacher Arthur is. So maybe Arthur could give lessons or even go to school to be a music teacher. Arthur shoots him down, but Ludwig catches Arthur researching what it takes to be a music teacher.

Anyway. The road trip comes to an end and Ludwig has to make his choice. Return to university, to a program he dislikes, or take a chance and stay and get an apprenticeship in town. So just as Gilbert is about to take him back to the city Ludwig comes clean. How he doesn't like his program, that he wants to try an apprenticeship as a mechanic. Ludwig is terrified of Gilbert's reaction, that he'll be disappointed, but Arthur's words echo in his head, keeping him grounded.

Instead, Gilbert is happy for him. "You always did love working on cars," he notes, "Remember our old neighbour who let you tinker on an old, broken down car they had? If only we could have gotten a new engine, perhaps it could have been saved from being scrapped.

Ludwig is shocked, having almost forgotten that summer.

"I bet someone would love to hear that news," Gilbert says with a smirk.

Ludwig runs back to the record shop, but Arthur is missing from his post. Lud hears a faint noise coming from the back room and finds Arthur, next to the old record player, singing along to the song they sung together around the fire. He sits and listens, only revealing he's there when Arthur finishes and Ludwig applauds.

Ludwig tells him how he's going to stay in town and try to get an apprenticeship with a mechanic Gil knows. Arthur is elated, jumping to his feet and kissing Ludwig hard. Their first kiss since that one time on the road during the sunset that they had thought they'd never talk about again.

"But on one condition," Ludwig says, pulling away breathlessly, "You look into school for next year and become a music teacher."

"Ludwig..."

"If you can't do it for yourself, then do it for me," Ludwig smirks.

Arthur can't help but laugh and kiss him again. "Okay. For you then."

And in the end, Arthur does become a music teacher and Ludwig gets to take over the shop he did his mechanic apprenticeship at. They also date and eventually get married 🥰

#hetalia #hws england #hws germany #hws prussia #gereng #engger #geruk #au ask game #au asks #gereng road trip au

[moonlit-jeno]

friends (m.)

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

genre: explicit sexual content | omegaverse | heat sex | unprotected sex | some name calling

words: 3.6k

don’t like don’t read :)

“Your heat’s coming up.” Jeno says, point blank in between bites of his apple. You just nod, taking a break from your notes to side eye him. It’s not odd for him to know intimate details of your life- you do make sure to keep him updated on your cycle just so that he can send you the notes for the days you miss - but it’s not exactly a common subject for the two of you. “Who are you spending it with?”

There are still 13 powerpoint slides for you to grind through, but you figure a small break won’t hurt. Might as well use the conversation topic for something good, aka a reason to slam your laptop shut. You turn to Jeno, giving your best friend your full attention, and take the iced coffee right out of his hand. He doesn’t protest. “No idea. Would call Jaemin but he’s ‘found the one’ or something, so I’ll probably just spend it by myself.”

“By yourself?” Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as if you’ve just admitted to committing a sin. It’s not like the concept isn’t unheard of, there’s a market full of toys to help you through it. “Isn’t that dangerous?” You shrug and take a sip of the coffee, offering him your smoothie in exchange. He takes a sip and then bites down on your straw. His entire face scrunches and he yanks his face away from the beverage. He pulls the straw up, inspecting the now soggy and dented object with disgust. “Fuck, what is this made out of?”

“Paper.” You huff a laugh out through your nose, taking your smoothie back. “And I mean, it’s not any more dangerous than spending your heat with the wrong person. Plus, my heats get kind of… intense.” If Jaemin sleeping for three days straight and limping after is anything to go by, both parties take the short end of the stick. You’d felt so bad after and apologized to him profusely, but he had just thrown you his signature dazzling grin and told you that drowning in pussy was exactly the way he envisioned himself dying. He definitely didn’t complain about the brownies you’d baked him as a ‘thank you’, though.

“Spend your heat with me.” The bold request has your brain malfunctioning, at a loss for where to even start reacting to his statement. You just stare at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while he returns the gaze earnestly. “Look, it makes sense, right? I know you better than anyone, and you already trust me. Plus if they’re as intense as I’ve heard they are, you need someone there.”

You frown, opening your laptop up and staring blankly at the screen just to avoid having to look at Jeno. It does make sense to have him there with you, and it’s not like he’s the worst person to have sex with. Plenty of people around campus have delighted in talking about their nights with Jeno, dreamily telling you how lucky you are to have him and falling deaf to your insistence that the two of you aren’t like that. Plus, you’re not blind and even if you’re not the cute couple everyone thinks you are, you can admit that he’s hot.

“Wait, hang on. What do you mean ‘heard’ about? What shit is Na Jaemin saying?” Jeno’s shoulders shake with his laughter at your sudden concern. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t show up to practice for like a week and when he finally did, he looked like he’d been mauled. Coach had to bench him.”

Your heart drops slightly at hearing that Jaemin’s soccer had been affected. He hadn’t told you that. “Oh.” The guilt must show on your face because Jeno is quickly soothing you, making sure to tell you that they all found Jaemin’s state funny. “Okay, wait. Wouldn’t you have the same problem if you help me?”

“It’s off-season. So, what do you say?” Jeno waits for your response expectantly, eyes soft, curious. “You can say no, y/n. I don’t want to pressure you at all, I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.” “I’ll think about it.” And you do. A concerning amount.

You spend that night tossing and turning, trying and failing to shut your brain off. Worries about ruining your friendship and about hurting Jeno bounce around your brain no matter how much you try to stop thinking about it. What if something bad happens during it? What if you never talk again? And worst of all is your brain telling you that he doesn’t actually want you specifically, he just wants to be with an omega in heat. You’re just convenient. 

That thought actually makes you cry and you wrap your blankets even tighter around yourself, sobbing weakly into your pillows. In an effort to distract your wandering mind you grab for your phone, opening instagram to find an influx of dm’s from Jeno. It calms you a bit, the messages ranging from cute dogs to absolutely cursed memes, and you smile softly at the reminder that he’s your best friend, and that he definitely cares about you. Biting your lip, you hesitate for only a few moments before typing out a “you can help”, hitting send before you can second guess it. You lock your phone and set it face down on the dresser, thankfully finding sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It’s hot when you wake up, clothes clinging to your skin uncomfortably. Peeling your shirt off only gives you relief for a moment but then the sticky heat is back full force. You whimper in misery, trying to snuggle back into your bed for at least some comfort, but you find that the corner of your fitted sheet has come up, the rest of your blankets on the floor. There’s only one pillow near you and it’s soaked in sweat. You panic slightly, frantically yanking your sheets back onto the bed and trying to fluff them up as much as possible, only calming down once the bedding has been fixed to your liking. Only once you’ve settled down in the plushness of your blankets do you have a moment of clarity.

“Oh shit.” You shoot up and search for your phone, dropping it once before finally managing to open the correct app. There’s a few messages from Jeno that you don’t bother looking at, going straight for the ‘call’ button. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy, like he’s just woken up, and a flash of heat runs through you at the low tone. “Why are you calling me at 5 a.m?”

You manage to stop fantasizing about your best friend long enough to choke out the word “Heat.” It comes out pathetic and whiny and you pause to clear your throat, trying to keep a clear head as well. “I’m sorry, my heat came early and I wanted to call you but you can go back to bed, I didn’t realize-”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll be over in 10.” Jeno cuts off your rambling with a swear, some rustling in the background accompanying his words. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, setting the phone down and curling up in bed, trying not to focus on how agonizingly slow the time is passing.

Jeno’s looking down at his shoes when you open the door, kicking idly at the door mat and fidgeting with the bag in his hands, though his head snaps up when he notices you. The smile on his face falters when he inhales, turns a little strained as he gets a taste of your heat, and you honestly give him props for the amount of restraint he has. It’s definitely more than you have, at least, because you’re on him the second he’s inside. He ends up sandwiched between you and the door, bag dangling precariously in one hand while he envelopes you in his strong arms. You don’t (can’t) do anything besides bury your face in his chest and whimper, knowing exactly what you want but being too needy and fuzzy to remedy it.  

“Jeno, it hurts.” You whimper and lift your face to nose along the skin just above the collar of his shirt, finding that while the skin to skin contact helps, it doesn’t fully relieve the heat scorching through you, the dull ache screaming for Jeno to take you already. “Please…” He holds you closer to his chest, encasing you fully in his scent, and picks you up bridal style. “I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

Being around Jeno does help to ease your stress, but it also serves to make you needier. The warm scent that you’ve grown to associate with the man is stronger than you’ve ever smelled it and it’s making you lose your mind more and more by the second. You’re worried that you’re drooling by the time he sets you down on your bed. He pauses to drop the bag he’s holding on the floor, and then he’s on top of you, strong arms caging you in.

The first kiss is soft, chaste. It would be cute if you weren’t so fucking needy, but you are and it’s just not enough. Unsatisfied, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, nipping at his bottom lip and tilting your head to the side to get a deeper angle. A groan rumbles in his chest and he returns the kiss with more intensity, trying to take control again. You don’t let him, even if every instinct in your body is screaming at you to just submit.

Jeno shifts on top of you, scooting so that he can fully lay down between your legs. You wrap your limbs around him on instinct, pulling him as close as you possibly can and- oh. The close proximity means that you feel everything when he grinds down, and the feeling of having him so close to where you need him has any semblance of control that you had draining out of your body. You gasp pitifully, annoyance clawing at you from the amount of fabric blocking you from what you want.

“Please,” You almost sob, tugging at his shirt while trying to grind your lower half against his, the pressure of his cock against your center making your eyes roll. Jeno pulls back to yank his shirt off and then he’s back, hands sliding down your body to your panties, tugging the fabric down as far as he can before he growls in frustration and just rips the fabric in half. 

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Jeno moans in awe, breaking the kiss yet again to marvel at your pussy. “Bet I could just slip right in.” He drags his fingers through the slick on your upper thighs, eyes glued between your legs. You’re just about to complain when he finally presses his fingers into you. The initial relief has you moaning sweetly, though it quickly turns to impatient pleas for his cock. You clench around his fingers, reaching a hand down to palm over where he strains against his sweats.

“I need you to fuck me.” You beg, looking at him with what you hope is a convincing expression. “Please Jen, I need you.” “You have me.” He promises you, flicking his wrist faster, curling his fingers just right. “I’m right here baby.” It’s sweet, and under normal circumstances it would be enough, but right now it’s not what you need and the frustration has you on the brink of tears.

You buck your hips and try to arch up as if it’ll magically make him slip in, but Jeno remains as patient and controlled as ever. It’s too hot and every part of your body is screaming for him to fuck you, for him to claim you, and his refusal is killing you. “Alpha please, I need you.”

He absolutely snarls, pinning down your wriggling body with one hand around your throat. The other hand stays between your legs where it continues to strike pleasure into every single nerve ending you have, adding to the fire already coursing through your veins. “What you need is to take what your Alpha’s giving you. You’re not in charge here, okay?” With his face pressed so close to yours you have no choice but to make direct eye contact, staring straight into the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen. His pupils are blown out so wide that his eyes are almost black. Unable to tear your eyes away and as if in a trance, you find yourself nodding. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. Now listen to your Alpha and cum.”

It happens almost instantaneously, as if his words were directly connected to a trigger, your body exploding just as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your entire body locks up, mind going blank as the immense pleasure takes hold of you, leaving you clawing at his back and screaming silently into the air. 

The orgasm only serves to thicken the haze in your mind, clouding any thoughts that aren’t related to the Alpha above you and his cock. It takes a moment for your eyes to finally come back into focus enough to make out your surroundings, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jeno with his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence off of his digits. You’re burning so hot, so much hotter than you think you’ve been before, and it’s hard for you to function. All you can think about is his cock.

“Please,” You beg, swatting at him weakly. “Alpha please, I need you so bad.”

There’s no way that Jeno isn’t being affected by the pheromones clouding the air, but he manages to appear unbothered, his actions rough but nowhere near as desperate as yours. He just laughs lightly at your begging. “Aww, baby needs me?” The rhetorical question is punctuated by a slap, his hand coming down on your pussy hard enough to draw a yelp from you, thighs closing on his hand in a conflicting attempt to relieve the pressure from the hit and keep his hand on your cunt. He laughs meanly and pulls his hand away, drawing back slightly to spit onto your already soaking pussy, rubbing the spit into your skin while he talks. “This pussy belongs to me, yeah? You’re mine now.” Jeno leans down, mouth at your neck so that he can bite at the skin. “That means that I can do whatever I want with you.” You can’t speak, can’t even begin to think about what you should say in this situation. He presses a kiss to your jaw before pulling back and uses his free hand to turn your head so that you make eye contact with him. “Tell Alpha what you need.” “Need Alpha in me.” You beg, plead, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees and arching your back, presenting yourself to him. “Need your knot, need you to fill me up, breed me, Alpha please-” Your sentence is cut off by his cock slamming into you, the filthy sound being drowned out by his groan. You gasp in relief, breathy thank you’s leaving you with each powerful thrust he delivers. His cock stretches you out so well, makes you go dizzy with the relief of finally having him in you. Your elbows give out nearly instantly, your chest hitting the mattress, and Jeno takes instant advantage of the new position to pull your hips even higher into the air.

It’s so good- almost too good- and it leaves you drooling and clawing at the sheets. All you can focus on is how well he’s fucking you, how he’s going to fill you up so well, breed you like he was meant to. 

You scream when he pulls out, alarm bells going off as your body instantly protests. It only lasts a second though, Jeno’s hands never leaving your body as he flips you onto your back. 

“Couldn’t see you,” Jeno pants out, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pushing back in, returning back to the brutal rhythm he had before. It has your eyes rolling in your head at how fucking good he feels. “My pretty baby, taking everything I give her.” 

He’s got you so fucked out that you don’t even realize your tongue is hanging out of your mouth until he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out even more. “You love my cock, hmm? You love everything I give you.” The pad of his thumb rubs over your tongue, the sensation making your toes curl and tears slide down your cheeks. “Such a fucking needy omega, isn’t that right?” He tugs on your tongue, your head following his actions as he leads you into nodding.

Jeno laughs and lets go of your tongue, dropping his face down to kiss at your neck. He sucks mark after mark into your skin, licking over each one to soothe it after, until he finally gets to your most sensitive, vulnerable spot. Even just the feeling of him close to your mating mark has your entire body aching for it, your neck craning to the side and pushing into his touch. The leverage you get from your legs wrapped around his waist has him pushing even deeper into you and you can feel his knot at your entrance, not quite fully swollen but definitely getting there. It has you absolutely keening, the thought of being so totally owned making you desperate.The sweet drag of his cock along your walls paired with the absolute filth he’s spewing has your body locking up with no warning, your orgasm ripping through you. You arch off the bed, the action only pushing you further onto his cock.

“God y/n, fuck!” Jeno curses, slamming his hips into you with even more force, his knot popping into your entrance and forcing the neediest sound you’ve ever made to leave your lips. You desperately wrap your limbs around him, trying to get him even closer, digging your heels into his ass to push him further inside. He grinds his hips against you one, two, three more times before he shudders, teeth clamping down right on your sweet spot as he comes. Jeno seems to come forever, filling you up with delicious warmth, making your body purr in satisfaction. He finally comes down, having the clarity of mind to tip the two of you onto your sides so that he doesn’t crush you when he collapses. He still tugs you close, arm thrown around your body possessively, his chin resting atop of your head.

“Told you it was intense.” You laugh out, trying to break the silence in the room. The heat’s subsided for now, but you’re still barely in your mind, and you have no idea how long the break will last. 

He huffs out a laugh, chest shaking against you. “I understand Jaemin now.” His hand pets over your back, sliding up to the back of your neck and scratching lightly at the skin there. “You alright?” “Mhmm, yeah. Perfect.” His fingertips press lightly against the mating mark, sending sparks shooting down your spine, and it has your head spinning. You try to adjust yourself against him in an effort to keep your cool, but moving has his cock shifting inside of you and you sleepily grind against him, not thinking. Jeno hisses and tightens his grip on you to keep you still, but the way he grabs your leg has him shifting inside of you and pressing against all the right places. Heat floods through you and your grinding turns more urgent. 

“Ohgod,” You moan, finding enough strength to push Jeno flat on his back. Your body has a mind of its own and you find yourself bouncing desperately on his cock. His knot has you locked into place and you’re barely able to move, but you can still swirl and grind your hips against him, feel the delicious friction of his knot against your entrance. “Alpha, it feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking knotdrunk, hmm? Can’t get enough.” Jeno shakes his head, laughs in a way that’s meant to mock you but it comes out strained. His hands are heavy on your ass, squeezing and slapping to feel the way it jiggles, to feel the way you clench around him with every hit. You throw your head back and let him do as he pleases, losing yourself entirely in how full you feel, in how good his knot feels in you. He buries his face into your chest, moving one hand from your ass to play with your tits, his mouth wasting no time in marking the delicate skin up. 

“Shit baby, gonna make me cum again.” His lips seal over your mating mark again in a sloppy kiss and that’s exactly the final push that you need, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out as your cunt spasms around him, orgasm ripping through you almost painfully. Jeno groans as well, hand flying to your back to pull you as close as possible, and his knot pulses inside of you as you swear you feel more cum shoot out.

He shudders against you, tight grip finally relaxing, though he still keeps you anchored to his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against him. A tired moan leaves you and you let yourself relax, lips absentmindedly mouthing at his skin. His hand pets your back soothingly, touch heavy and sluggish, and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his lips on your forehead.

#jeno smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #00 line smut #kpop smut #lee jeno smut

[burnedbyshoto]

i wonder

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

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

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

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

word count: 20,141

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

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You cracked your eyes open.

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

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

Wait.

CUM?!

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

Think, y/n, think!

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

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

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

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

You screamed.

At the top of your lungs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n!”

“Y/n-chan!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”

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

“Oh, true. Three seconds to run.”

“Why?!”

“It’s my birthday.”

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

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

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

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

“Come on, let’s go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is where you were now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was on this day that it clicked.

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

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

Disgusting.

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

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

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

So, we look back to where we started.

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

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

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

He was a physics major, not a goddamn god.

Fuck off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that was all unimportant and already said.

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

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

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

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

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

Ah yes, nothing like a university party.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

“Y/N-CHAN!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You also itched to know what his dick looked like.

This was definitely someone you could see yourself fucking tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck men.

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

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

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

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

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

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

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

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

Your mind was a drunken fever. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

You don’t think about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...I always make it.”

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

Silence.

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

“Fend for your damn self then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dumb?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi. Wanna explain what happened last night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Irritation runs through your veins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once he left, you felt light again.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he snaps.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

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

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

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

“You are too!”

“When am I ever?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You only ever fuck men with questionable personalities.”

“Gee, I wonder fucking why!”

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

“What do you mean?” he grits slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friends had noticed immediately.

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

You could care less right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

As time does, it moves forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

From two days to five.

It was weird.

You felt almost empty.

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

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

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

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

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

You grin.

“Obviously.”

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

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

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

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

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

“NO! Wrong again! Yaomomo!”

“Um, to make everlasting mem—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why didn’t he just try to corner you?

Why did you care that he didn’t?

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

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

But why did you?

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

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

You were in love with him.

You loved Shouto.

Not in a friendly, platonic, family way.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

“Anything for you, darling.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like hell you would ever let Shouto cuck you!

Let him fuck another woman in front of you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

It seemed frat parties were one of them.

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

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

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

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

It was slow.

Sensual.

Somehow familiar.

Absolutely mind-numbing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were breathless.

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

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

He kissed you.

He wanted you.

He said he needed you.

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

He needed you.

Just you.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes barely cracked open, your mouth no longer kissing him put pressing against his in an open mouth pant. Your drunken breath saying nothing but implying the world.

Something Shouto was more than keen on giving you.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered for you to hear, so reverent, so holy. And so that you, the center of his world, the only thing he saw and believed in, knew how passionately, how ardently he believed in you, his mouth slid down your neck, and his teeth sunk in your flesh. He claimed you, praised you, making you a part of him.

“I’m still so mad at you!” you moan, voice pitched, whiny, and deliriously high. “I love you, asshole. I love you, and you sleep around! I love you, and I don’t care if you sleep around, but you care that I sleep around?!”

“I love you too,” Shouto mumbles against your neck, his teeth continuing to press into your skin that seems to explode with heat at the revelation. “I love, and I’m an idiot; I’m so sorry.”

And then he does something with his tongue against your neck, the soft of swipes, the wet tickling heat making your head slam back against the brick wall, and a mangled, strangled moan of unadulterated want emits from you.

“We'll talk about this in the morning,” you pant, fingers fisting in his shirt. “We can fix this, but right now, shut up and fuck me.”

“Y/n—”

“I’m horny,” you interrupt, hips sharply jutting into his leg. “You made me horny. Take responsibility.”

His eyes flashed dark, his nostrils flaring, and your words cemented in his head. He resumed his painting, his worship on your neck as you cried loudly in the alleyway, desperate, needy for more.

It was dizzying to have him on you like this.

For so long, you had only touched him in a few ways, had only ever felt a specific type of warmth. But this was unlike anything you’ve ever done with him, to him. It felt like you were burning and freezing, consumed by heat and energy and everything Shouto. His all too familiar cologne filled your nose, drowning your brain, invading your senses. His frantic heartbeat felt against your own body, telling you exactly how you were affecting him, how you made his heart speed and jump with every breathy whine.

“Fuck, I can’t do this. We need to get home now!” Shouto growls, his hands grabbing you by the wrist yet again and pulling you away.

His strides are long, quick, and powerful. You’re running to keep up, beautifully out of breath, staggering and stumbling to keep up in his objective to get back to the apartment now.

It doesn’t seem to take long before he’s pushing open the doors to the apartment complex, corralling you through the doors and into the elevator to get to the eleventh floor. The elevator doors are behind you, and with no one else in the life, you turn on him and immediately resume your own endeavor of claiming Shouto with your mouth, body, and soul. He matches your intensity, hands roaming from where the clasp of your bra sat to the curve of your ass. He grabbed you, pulled you in closer, the air in his nose staggering as you stammer against his mouth.

Teeth touch lips, tongues in each other's cheeks, and Shouto leads you out of the elevator backward, his one hand on your waist forever steady and the other one holding the key. Your fingers are back in his hair, pulling and tugging sharply on the soft, short strands with nearly disappeared gel. He gets to the door, fumbling with the key as you continue to kiss him, distracting him with the smallest of movements.

“Which room?” he asks against your mouth, pushing you through the threshold, his foot closing the door behind him.

The shoes are haphazardly kicked off and you’re now on your tiptoes to continue kissing him as you were. You tried to think, tried to figure out if you wanted to be surrounded by Shouto’s scent or to have him displayed in your room. His teeth then suckle on your bottom lip, biting down on the swollen, hot flesh just gentle enough that your mind draws a blank and your voice responds on its own.

“Mine.”

You shriek then, Shouto swiftly picking you up off the floor and you panic, hands swatting and beating on him as you scream to let you down. He continues walking, holding you without a worry, his arms remaining strong and firm beneath you. But with your distraction, with your lips no longer pressed sinfully against his, Shouto’s mouth finds a junction point on your clavicle and sinks his teeth down again, claiming you once more.

“S-Sho—” your voice hitches, the feeling too intense for you to process all at once. You hear your room door open and close, and without warning, you’re soaring through the air before collapsing on the bed.

“You think I go to the gym to get muscles for fun?” Shouto taunts, his fingers hooking under the dark grey t-shirt he’s wearing. “Angel, I go to the gym to make sure I can fuck you in any position, against any surface or wall you want.”

Your body feels like it's scorching as he removes his shirt, his muscles rippling and moving seductively with the devious, intentional movement.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Shouto asks, the shirt dropping to the floor, removing all traces of oxygen from your person. He steps closer, fingers circling around your ankle and suddenly pulling you in toward him until you were sitting at the edge, his lips hovering over yours. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your tongue feels dry in your mouth, but your eyes narrow before you push up and capture his mouth back with yours. He kisses you back deeply, bending down so that you begin to shift backward, allowing him the space to crawl onto the bed with you, and at the last moment, your leg wraps around his waist and spins the both of you. Shouto gasps as you pin him onto the mattress, your tongue invading his mouth, brushing and swirling against his, coaxing his own tongue back into your own mouth. With the wet heat in your mouth, your teeth playfully, just gently dig into his appendage and tug.

“No, but it seems like I got yours,” you humor him, your teeth releasing his tongue, and Shouto looks up at you like you were both the sun and the moon, and the stars were a gift to him.

It takes your breath away.

Shouto grins, shifting onto his elbows so that he’s closer to you before kissing you again.

The kiss is growing louder, both your mouths ever so consuming, trying to relay years of repressed, unknown emotions and feelings within a drastic, incredible touch. Your hips begin shifting against his crotch, humping his clothed erection, demonstrating yet again the power and grace you hold in your body.

Shouto’s hands move from your ribs up to your breasts, and with the hot, rough flesh of his skin, he squeezes your tender flesh. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking wildly against him at the sensation. It isn’t a powerful flesh, but a reminder, a demonstration of just what and where he could inflect passionate actions.

Your hands scour his chest, fingernails dragging teasingly down his firm, developed muscles, fingers flicking and teasing at his own exposed nipples. Shouto grunts into your mouth, hips bucking powerfully upward into your clothed cunt, and you splutter at the power behind it. But it seems as though Shouto is over the fishnet mesh shirt and crop top you’re wearing because he’s tugging it out of the waistband of your jeans and commands in a deep, lust-ridden voice: “Off.”

Goosebumps flash across your skin, bubbling and spraying across your sensitive skin as your shirt and crop top join Shouto’s on the floor. Your gasp loudly when Shouto rolls the both of you over swiftly, his mouth immediately pressing hot, viper kisses on your breasts. All thought and reason leave your mind as his teeth nip and pull. His fingers pushing the straps of your bra off your shoulders and shoving your boobs out of the bra in a firm hold.

“You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted to touch you, kiss you, fuck you,” Shouto whispers, his tone almost dark as his hot air fans against your already pebbling nipples. “Fuck, angel, you’re better than anything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

You whine loudly, fingers tangling in his hair as you desperately, wordlessly try to persuade him to put his lips around your attentive, eager nipples.

“I always forget you got these things,” Shouto says in wonder, his fingers touching the metal bars sitting so innocently, deviously on through your nipple. He tugs on the bar, and all the nerves in your breast fire and tingle, and your feet curl by his back as you whimper. “Fuck... I can’t believe I forgot…”

“S-Shouto, I fucking swear!” you almost screech, hands desperately pulling at strands of red and white, wanting his teeth and tongue and the suction of his mouth on your nipple. “Stop. Fucking. Talking!”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Okay,” he says cheekily, and as if he read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your all too ready nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, clacking against the metal in your flesh. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, although you have no idea what you’re begging for. Your hips pathetically grinding into his clothed cock, trying to get yourself to cum while not having been touched. “Sho— Shouto!”

Shouto pulls away from your nipple with a loud pop. His breath panting, short, and overwhelmingly strained as if simply sucking your throbbing, needy nipple had given him the same amount of pleasure as it did you before consuming your forgotten one. Just as before, you melted against him, begging please, pretty please to him but never telling him what you were wanting. You didn’t know what you were wanting.

But unlike before, his hands leave their attentive position on your free nipple and slam your hips back down onto the mattress, keeping you down and still as he continued his ministrations until you were nipplegasming. You choked as the orgasm consumed you, your body going rigid and your eyes rolling to the depths of your head as his hot mouth was all you could think of. For a moment, the needy wet heat between your thighs was easily ignorable, something unneeded until Shouto was pulling away and kissing you again.

His chest was pressed tight against your own chest, your sensitive, overstimulated nipples rubbing against his chest with the welcomed friction as you let out a wordless, near-dizzy sigh into Shouto’s mouth. He kissed you with incredible passion, with dizzying heat, and consuming lust.

Your voice was so small, your voice easily drowned in Shouto’s mouth as your fingernails dug into his back and raked down pathetically, desperately proving that you were still here. Still fighting him on just who would win this night. Your fingers went down the curve of his spine, trailing down until you found the waistband of his sweats, and with his mouth everso distractingly on the swell of your breasts, biting, marking, and sucking hickies and his print on you for forever, he helped you slide the pants off.

In an almost dramatic fashion, his eyes burning deep into yours, leaving you stunned and a worshiper at his feet, he rose off your bed and let the pants fall. You shakily inhaled, your eyes suddenly transfixed and only seeing the hard, leaking dick that stood tall and proud against his twitching stomach. At the mere sight of him, you now truly, completely, and entirely understood just why the girls were obsessed.

From tip to the base, he was thick, the flush of his skin gorgeous, the curve of his cock optimal to fuck anyone. He was long, thick, and delicious—trimmed pubes of red and white and balls that had your mouth watering and going dry. You wondered, imagined, tried to visualize just how much it was going to hurt getting that in you. You’ve never had a man with a dick like that, never had to choke or fuck on something that looked like it would possibly render you stupid the moment you were impaled.

“Can I?” you ask, ‘can I touch you? Can I suck you?’ go unsaid.

“You owe me one,” Shouto says, his words teasing if it wasn’t for the way his voice betrayed him with the eagerness, the want and inexplicable tell that says if you don’t touch him, he will lose his fucking mind. “Please, do it.”

You’re dragging him back onto the bed, sitting him by your headboard, spreading his legs apart as you situate yourself between them. With a tentative, shaky hand, you reach out and grab on his dick.

His flesh is hot to the touch; it's hard and twitches just so at your grasp. Shouto lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, and you look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, your nose touching the underside of his length and nuzzling into the flesh. You look back up at him with hooded eyes, eyes dark with mirth, lust, and an overwhelming need to please Shouto. He stares back, eyes entirely too bright, almost scared, almost as if he can’t believe this is happening.

You smile softly, eyes breaking contact to look at the swelling cock in your hand, and then back at him as your tongue pokes out of your mouth and puts a long, wet stripe against his length.

And Shouto?

Shouto moans like a man who’s had warm food after days of starving.

You lick from base to tip, saliva mixing with precum as your mouth presses teasing, open mouth kisses down the length of his cock, tongue pressing against the sweltering heat of his balls.

“Fuck, y/n, stop teasing,” Shouto grits, his hips pathetically snapping into nothing, his hands desperately trying to touch you, to which you swatted him away each and every time. You tut, shaking your head. With both your hands fisting his dick at the middle of his length, your squeeze and pull in opposite directions.

The reaction is one that you were hoping for, Shouto’s head slamming to the headboard with a clash, his legs jumping just a bit, and precum coming out in even heavy drops. You laugh breathlessly at his display, enamored with how fucking easy he is to get to make noises. He’d never made noises before, no other girl had him the way you did, and that made you crazy with power.

Before you wanted to, your mouth consumed to head of his cock, allowing the musky smell that was completely and only Shouto to fully consume you. You sucked on his thick swollen head, tongue pressing on the leaking slit on his head as he choked on your name. You smile, taking him in further, straining against the weight in your mouth, the pressure on the back of your throat, and the stretch of your throat. As soon as you had him a bit way in, you were pushing out, his hips driving to find you but missing you. Shouto’s noise was almost broken, near needy, and your head spun with his noises. Unable to stop, you pushed in again, allowing the drive of his hips to send his cock further down your throat.

Tears filled your eyes at the action, his cock much too large, much too thick to be fucked into your throat as such. Your fists acted as a barrier as you adjusted, your throat humming, mouth moaning as Shouto lost himself to the heat of your wet mouth. You bobbed your head, fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks. You sucked his dick with the intention of ruining him, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you needed to consume. You let go of one hand, allowing it to fondle with his balls as his cock went further into your mouth, the sounds of your choking, gagging, and crying egging him on.

“You take me so good,” Shouto sang to you, whispering words that only you’ve heard. “Fuck, angel, take me all the way. I know you can do it.”

With his hands at the back of your head, your fingers squeezing his balls, and the shaky removal of your final hand on his cock, he drives his hips all the way up. Shouto curses loudly, and you choke, feeling the rush of cum shooting down your throat, and you’re let free.

“Swallow it all, don’t spit it up,” Shouto breathes, his body shifting upward, eyes intent, focused. “Let me see.”

You cough violently, mouth closed as you swallow the salty cum, only letting your mouth open to allow the drool and spit to drip from your flat tongue as you show him that you swallowed every last seed. He groaned, grasping you by the chin and pulling you back in for a passionate, all-consuming kiss. The taste of Shouto and his cum sat heavily in your throat, and you were shaking as he began to unbutton your jeans, shedding them off of you as he flipped you back around so that your back was resting against the mattress.

Salt sweat dripped down your neck, and Shouto left fingertip bruises on your waist, your knees and legs awkwardly kicking as you finally got your jeans off your ankles. You shuttered, feeling Shouto’s hot, spit-slick dick pressing against your stomach, your cunt flipping and twisting at the thought of taking him all in.

“You’re still, fuck… you’re still hard?” you gasp, Shouto’s fingers tracing the innards of your thighs, scratching at your ass, slapping it once, twice, leaving you pitched and shaking.

“How can I not be when you’re down beneath me?” Shouto asks, his eyes looking at you as if he was burning the very naked image to you in his brain for him forever. “You’re mine, right?”

The question itself, while unexpected, was not unwanted.

You feel yourself nodding, your fingers scratching up his flexed arms, “Yours and only yours.”

“Good,” Shouto smirks, leaning in, his entire weight on the one hand beside your head, making you groan as his lips were so close yet so far away. “I’m yours as you are mine.”

With that, his fingers pressed to your thus far, unattended to clit, your legs shaking, kicking the air as you howled in pleasure. But it was such an intimate place, something you never expected Shouto to ever touch, and so, in a voice so pathetic you couldn’t even recognize it as yours, you screeched: “D-Don’t touch that!”

Shouto cocked an eyebrow, his head tilting as his fingers swirled around your swollen nub, sending just enough electrifying pleasure through every neuron in your body. “Why not?” he asked, voice authoritative and curious and sadistic. “It’s mine — you’re mine. I can play with what’s mine whenever I want.”

The words make your entire will collapse, the words liquid heat in your ears and mind. You moan loudly, feeling Shouto adjust your hips, lining your spasming cunt with his cock, and with his tongue delving into your mouth, his lips pressing against yours, he slowly pushed into you.

Shouto was loud the entire way into you, the deep grunts, breathless moans, and mindless babble of how this was unlike anything he’s had before, better than anything he’s ever imagined. He bottoms out quickly, hands leaving purple bruises against your skin as you lay on the bed silent.

Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single tone noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper over and over, your legs tight around Shouto’s hips, shaking with the feeling in you. “God, y-you’re so big, Sho… I’m—”

You can’t finish your sentence because he shifts just enough that his cock is meeting places in you that had never been encountered before. Your eyes roll back again, your fingers pressing ruby red scars to his back as you scratch and tear his back.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Shouto pants, his mouth panting against the sweat on your collarbone, his own breathing heavy and spaced. “You’re perfect, y/n, so fucking perfect.”

You preen with those words, your mouth finding a home at his temple to which you kiss him, drag your lips down to his ear. You bite and nibble as you adjust to him buried deep within you. And he heaves a sigh and pushes up off you, eyes daring to stare into you as he huffs almost in disbelief of this entire night.

“I’m going to start moving,” he says, fingers scratching down your sides to your thighs. “Are you ready?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod. Shouto smiles, leaning back down for one last kiss to which you quickly returned, staying there as his hips moved backward before thrusting back into you. It's the first thrust of many, but your arms wrap even tighter underneath his own, your nails scarring his back as he goes again and again. You fucks into you deliberately, readily, with purpose and skill that speaks wonders and lives up to the many rumors you’ve ever heard.

His thrusts are powerful, slapping into your thighs with a mighty smack, making you whimper and wail into his salty neck as your hips lift up to meet his. It's a powerful dance, a dizzying cycle. His cock sliding up and down your puffy velvet walls, your weeping walls clenching him in a vice, unforgiving and unwilling to let go.

He speaks praises into your ear, your yours, your mouth.

“Such a pretty angel, moaning for me, crying for me, tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want me buried in your fucking stomach.”

You are converted to him in return, seeing him, speaking to him, devoted to him.

“Fuck, I want you more. Faster, harder! Don’t stop! I can feel you in my stomach, Sho! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!”

His weight is pressed on your thighs, spreading your thighs further apart, fucking into deeper, fucking you so powerfully, so desperately your soaked cunt squelches and drips your essence, soaking your bed and his legs. Your teeth sink into his skin, copper filling your mouth, and your vision feels missing as you are slamming your hips up, rolling them desperately to fuck back into him. You can feel his hand clutching yours, pressing it into the mattress as he somehow speeds up again, drilling you into the mattress, the bed creaking and bending under both your weight.

“More, more, more!”

And he gives, and gives, and gives.

You wail his name, the heat in your skin, tickling your clit and innards making you sweat, the alcohol on your skin sticking you to Shouto.

Shouto grunts your name, hisses your name, damns you heaven and back for having such a fucking grip on him. It's when he looks into your eyes, cock drilling into you at a speed and power that no human should ever obtain, one hand gripping yours and the other pinching and teasing your clit, you cum, bursting open at the seams.

Your orgasm is loud, clenching, all-consuming, and you drag Shouto down with you as he stammers, shudders, and cums deep within your womb. His seed spilling out of you as the both of you collapse onto the bed with breathless, thoughtless minds.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Right?” you chuckle.

And with your nose pressed to his sweaty, sex-lulled body, you fall asleep with his hands traveling up and down your spine. Hopefully, things would be well when you woke up.

P R E S E N T

To stop you from screeching so loudly you woke up the entire world, Shouto held his hand to your mouth, his eyes wide, terrified, and completely confused.

“Please stop yelling… my head hurts…” Shouto begs, his face completely exhausted but with that post-orgasm sleep glow.

“We had sex?!” you shriek, throwing his hand off your mouth. “We were mad at each other, and we had sex?!”

“Oh,” Shouto seems to remember, his head rolling before he sat up, bringing you up with him. “Right, we should talk about that, huh?”

“You think?!” you shriek, entirely overwhelmed with the fact that you had done so much embarrassing shit last night.

It’s quiet for a bit. The birds chirping outside an almost cheerful taunt as the both of you, for the first time in seventeen years, find it too awkward to talk. No one wants to speak first, to mention the elephant in the room, for once it happened, there really was no going back. Not that there was much to go back from.

“I’m in love with you,” Shouto finally says. It’s an admittance, a whisper that's strong despite it told in such a hushed voice as if you would laugh at him as he confessed. “I’ve actually been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Now that shocks you.

Your eyes are wide, and you’re staring at Shouto, unsure what to say, what to ask, but you know you need more answers.

“I know, hard to believe, huh?” Shouto chuckles, his hand running through his sex and sleep disheveled hair. “It’s true, though… I don’t remember not ever being in love with you.”

“No… no way,” you say, your body running cold, and you shiver. You remember then that you’re sitting up, and you’re very incredibly naked. Shouto notices and moves to grab a blanket at the foot of the bed and wraps it around you. “That doesn’t make sense,” you argue, your furrowed brows making your skin crease as you try to think back on all your years and memories, looking for signs in which Todoroki Shouto loved you. “You never showed it.”

“Camie said the same thing,” Shouto sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Before I was sixteen… I don’t know; I guess I could understand why. I only ever talked to you, always paired up with you. I let you hold my hand, and I let you hug me… I thought me telling you that I had never been kissed before would make you want to kiss me, but it never did. I know I was awkward and a little different when we were younger, so when I was paired up with Camie… I thought she would help me.”

“By fucking you?” you asked, your frown deepening as you remembered your bitter feelings over Camie stealing Shouto’s virginity.

“She… she said that by being sexual, maybe you would see me as a man, and not the four-year-old crying boy in preschool,” Shouto smiled sadly, his fingers picking at one another. “Me having sex was supposed to show you that I was a man who wanted to see you as a woman in return, but it didn’t work.”

“Well, no shit,” you snort, relaxing a bit although you felt limp. You found yourself leaning against Shouto’s strong shoulders, your head landing heavily on him. “You went from a virgin to fucking anything with a wet hole.”

“...yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Shouto said with regret, his shoulders sagging just a bit. “At first, I thought I needed to fuck more girls to prove I was a man to you because you acted like nothing had happened after Camie… but sex was fun, it felt good.”

“Sex is good,” you agree with a soft chuckle to which he returned.

He shifted a bit, arms tightening and relaxing before he finally admitted, “It helped distract me from you because you looked at others the way I wanted you to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back.

“No, don’t be,” Shouto speaks firmly, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It was my fault. I was never assertive enough, confident enough to simply confess.”

“So, does you being in love with me having anything to do with you driving the entire male population away from me?”

Your eyes look up at him, finding his embarrassed gaze before he glances away.

“That actually wasn’t intentional… I guess I just talk about you a lot.”

“Yeah, but still doesn’t mean you couldn’t ever deny it yourself!”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Apologize then.”

“Y/l/n Y/n, I am sorry for making the entire male population we’ve ever come across think we were an item and not telling them otherwise. I am sorry for keeping you from enjoying sex while I continued to. I am lousy, and my love for you should be unreturned because that was ass of me.”

You sigh, your lips pursed to keep from smiling as you looked back at his handsome face.

“Now, ask me the damn question, crybaby.”

“Crybaby?”

“You finally admitted that you were, in fact, crying!!!!!”

If you asked Shishikura Seiji what the worst thing about being the third roommate to Todoroki Shouto and you was, he would give a million and three answers as to why it was the worst.

One: he absolutely hated how loud the both of you were. Todoroki Shouto was someone he thought was quiet and introverted, but whenever he was around you, he was loud. You were just plain old loud, and he thought it was annoying.

Two: he absolutely hated your rice. Call it petty, but after you fed him on his first night and tried putting him into a chokehold for saying the song your rice cooker sang at its end was the stupidest fucking thing ever made, everything you made taste like ash and dirt.

Twenty: he hated that there were biweekly karaoke nights. He would be studying away in his room and wanted to die when he heard the all too familiar sound of Mamma Mia’s Here We Go Again blasting in the living room.

Hundred fifty-seven: SO. MUCH. FUCKING. SEX.

Three hundred thirteen: SO. MUCH. DRINKING.

Five thousand: SO. MUCH. WEED.

Ten thousand three: you put his toilet seat up whenever you’re drunk, so he falls in when he goes to pee in the morning.

Five hundred: the way the both of you looked at each other, fucking disgusting.

To say the least, there were a lot of many different reasons scaling from actual issues to petty small shit, but Shishikura was not in any position to find a new apartment, so he stayed. To be quite honest, having been living with Dumb and Dumber (you and Shouto, respectively), he only thought there would be one thing that would make him lose his actual mind.

The day that would inevitably come and the both of you realized your feelings were, in fact, returned. He didn’t want to even imagine how the animalistic sex he often had to hear coming from your hallway would increase, or the sappy stupid romantic love he would see in the living room because as best friends, you both had no care for PDA and if you were allowed to kiss? Allowed to have sex? He feared he would have to wear a hazmat suit in every corner of the apartment. You both were already incredibly loud as a duo (see reason one as to why he hates living here); he feared the worst when the mutual love was realized.

But he exited his room a week after that Sunday morning with a fully loaded water gun just in case. His eyes narrowed, the hair on his neck raised as his beady eyes focused in on the living room.

Shouto sat on the couch, his back on the armrest, and you sitting between his thighs as you watched him play some game on his Switch, your smile large and annoyingly bright, but he realized that he couldn’t hear you screaming or speaking so loudly he could listen to the conversation.

No, as a matter of fact, Shishikura couldn’t hear a single word; the words being exchanged between you and Shouto spoke so softly, so intimately, it shocked him. Shishikura noticed with an almost awed surprise that even though your smile was as annoyingly bright as before. It wasn’t directed at anything but Shouto, and Shouto’s smile, while nowhere near as big, just as warm and full to you.

It was intimate, romantic even.

Nothing had changed in your relationship except now, finally, now, you were allowed to kiss and fuck each other like heat-driven animals.

Shishikura was shocked to his core, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him.

You nor Shouto paid him any mind, too lost in the game and in each other to look his way as he made his way into the kitchen for his lunch. Shishikura set the water gun on the counter, a small smile spreading on his face despite himself, and chuckled.

Maybe the two of you together weren’t something to hate on after all.

“Hey, is that a water gun?!”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

[license-to-geek]

Changes part two

Norman Osborn X Reader

A/N: thank you all for the notes on part one ! I’d just like to mention I’m British and therefore certain things in the story may not match up with American culture! For example years at college (or what I call uni), drinking ages etc etc. Everyone is set to be over 21 however.

Previously: in part one we saw the reader get bit by the spider, she’d previously been having an affair with Norman however her most recent interaction wasn’t entirely pleasant so she has retreated slightly. She comes into contact with the green goblin and has been kidnapped.

Summary: reader finally meets the green goblin and has a charity gala to attend!

Smut warning !

Word count approx 2200

Hope you all enjoy !

She could barely open her eyes. Her head was hanging heavy, her body weak. There was a metallic taste in her mouth, was that blood? She couldn’t reach up to her face and check her mask was in the way. A ringing bounced around her ears, then she noticed wind slapping her face. The sound of traffic, but it was far away. The floor was cold. She was sitting up right with her back against some concrete. Her senses slowly began to return to her. That’s when she finally snapped back into reality, a shrieking laughter ripping her out of her thoughts.

Standing before her was the green elf from earlier.

“You’re not dead. Not yet. Just paralysed temporarily.”

Her hand went to her mask to expose her mouth but it was a struggle. She finally managed it then spat out some blood that had been over crowding her mouth.

“Who are you ?” She asked.

“Some call me a Menace, some call me a monster some call me- the green goblin.” He announced proudly.

“Did you choose that name?” She held back a laugh, that might have been worse than the name she had ‘green elf’.

“Did you chose to be little spider ?” He countered.

“It’s spider-woman.” She shot back, spitting more blood out from her mouth. “What’s your deal green guy ?”

“I want you to join me. I’ve been watching you. It’s some neat trick that sense of yours.” He said bending his legs to be eye level.

Her vision was still hazey, she could just about recognise the colour of his eyes. Even they she wasn’t sure.

“Join you in what? Blowing up news paper offices and threatening editors ? What, did he offend you by writing a poor review of Jurassic park ?” (Probably where he got the inspiration for his suit, he resembled a little raptor in many aspects.)

He stood up at this point and took a few steps back.

“You’ve got a smart mouth little spider.” He sneered, his finger pointing at her.

“But is your brain smarter ? You fool don’t you see ! Me and you are gods amongst men. We could achieve anything-.”

“And women.” Her interruption caused the eccentric man to stop his monologue

“Excuse me?” He said.

With a small laugh she said “you said we are gods amongst men. I said and women. And I’d be a goddess, not so much a god. In Greek mythology Nox is arguably the most powerful entity and she’s a woman even Zeus-“

“Alright, alright ! I get your point.” He snapped.

Through her ramblings she’d bought some time and was now starting to regain full mobility.

He leant down towards her again this time grabbing her face. The leather gloves grazing her skin, almost enough to send a shiver down her spine.

“I could squash you like a bug, right now.” He mumbled gently shaking her chin from side to side, inspecting her face or rather mask.

“I’d like to see you try”

At this she jumped up grabbing the goblin by his throat and pinning him to the ground. She shot some webs to keep him down.

“See , the thing is you little green elf, I’m not a menace nor am I monster. I’m not a hero, I’m not villain. At best I’m some girl who is just trying to make her city a safer place. “

He attempted to get himself out of the webbing, wriggling and struggling. In response she’d put a foot on his chest and shot another two webs for added security.

“I never asked for these powers. But with them I have some kind of responsibility. And if you wanna get in my way, then go ahead and try. You won’t get very far. This is my city. And you can be damn sure I’m going to protect it. So no thanks, I won’t be joining you.”

And with the end of her monologue she went to leave, not before shooting some webs at the goblins glider to prevent it from moving.

“Godspeed little spider.” He muttered.

A week or so had passed since that incident. He must have used some sleeping gas on her that temporarily paralysed her powers or at least dialled them down, as well as her movements. There hadn’t been any other sightings of the green goblin, however she had done some research into who he might have been.

She had found nothing.

This evening she was due to attend another gala as Peter’s plus one, he was to be taking photographs of the event for the daily bugle. The event was something to do with a charity fundraiser. Mainly full of swanky rich people. Including the Osborns. She hadn’t spoken to Norman since that afternoon in the entrance hall.

For her attire she had treated herself to a new dress. An elegant black dress. Simple yet classy. She also made sure to bring a clutch big enough to fit her suit in. She’d made a habit of either wearing it everywhere or at least having it on hand.

Why were these galas always held in buildings which had entrances with thousands of steps? She wanted to attended a function not climb Everest? After hiking up the last remaining steps her and Peter had entered the luxurious hall arm in arm.

“You okay Peter ?” She asked looking over at him, he was wearing a dazed faced his eyes looking over into the distance. She followed his gaze and spotted MJ and Harry. Ah there it is. She felt for him, especially considering she looked absolutely stunning but was hanging off his best friends arm.

“Oh. Hey let’s get some Gin shall we? Take your mind off it?” She gently rubbing his arm in consolidation.

“Yeah okay (Y/N) I can’t have too much though. Got to do my job after all” Peter smiled sheepishly shaking his camera.

They sat at the bar for a short while before Peter got up to do his job.

“Really sorry (Y/N) , I’ll be back in a little while then you can finish that story about the old man on 29th street.” He apologised giving her a peck on the cheek.

Her and Peter hadn’t really been close but since MJ and Harry got together, (Y/N) and Pete had been hanging out more often. When she had the time of course.

“Sure, no problem Pete, go get em!” She smiled pumping her fist in the air as an act of encouragement.

Peter smiled at her and walked off camera in hand. She turned back to the bar and ordered another drink. Looking over her shoulder she scanned the room, looking for someone to talk to. She doubted she knew anyone there apart from the Osborns. The senior of which she wasn’t prepared to see. She missed him, a great deal. And the sex, dear god the sex was heavenly. But the sneaking around behind Harry’s back, the not being able to go for a cup of coffee together, it was heart breaking. And then there was the other day in the entrance hall. Maybe she doesn’t know him as well as she thought she did.

The bartender had made and handed a gin to her, to which she said thank you. Her legs carried her away from the bar to go outside to the back of the building for some air. She turned a corner and leant against a wall. The garden was beautiful, as she was admiring it she felt someone behind her, she turned around a little to quickly for a normal reaction but hey, spider senses right ?

“So this why you’ve been avoiding me.”

It was Norman. He was dressed in a black tuxedo, his hair perfectly slicked back, his face crossed between anger and glumness.

“What ?” She nearly choked on her drink in shock at seeing him, not even registering the question.

“It’s him isn’t it?” He spat, coming closer to face her properly, jealousy filled his eyes as he towered over her.

In complete confusion she replied “What? Who? What are you on about Norman ?”

“Peter fucking Parker, you’ve been fucking him behind my back haven’t you ? That’s why you’ve been so cold and distant.” Sneering, he pushed her against the wall, one hand remaining on the wall the other on her shoulder.

“Peter ? What ? No, you’ve lost your mind Norman.” She laughed in disbelief, her hands still gripping her clutch and glass.

“Don’t patronise me (Y/N) I’ve seen you two. Seen him sniffing around you. He can’t have my sons girl so he comes after mine instead.”

“You’ve gone insane Norman.”

“Have I? You’re mine.” He growled in her ear, pushing his chest against hers causing her to drop her glass, gin spilt on her shoes and his but he didn’t seem bothered.

“You’re mine. You belong to me.” He breathed against her neck, his hot breath heating her skin. A shiver ran down her body, like a single butterfly had bounced in her stomach.

“I don’t belong to anyone Norman.” She whispered, her voice wavering.

“Don’t lie to me.” He muttered, bringing a hand to run through her hair.

“How’s that a lie.” Her breathing was all over the place, every nerve in her body was now on fire. She didn’t know if she yearned for his touch or was repulsed by it.

“Who’s ever going to fuck you like I do. You’re addicted sweetheart and I’m the fucking drug don’t deny it.”

“I think your projecting here Norman.”

“Tell me to leave then.” He whispered. She could smell whiskey on his breath, she could feel his growing member through his suit trousers pressing against her middle. Involuntarily, her body reacted, her hips slightly raising up to meet his own. She felt her core heat up. No, how could she be turned on right now ?

She uttered some incoherent response that even she didn’t know what she said.

His lips went to her neck, teeth grazing her skin. One of Normans fingers ran from her throat, prodding her chest and sliding down her front towards her legs. With his free hand he slid it underneath her dress and gently investigated her panties, massaging over the area. To which he found to be soaking.

“I think you’re happier to see me then you’re letting on.” He mumbled in her ear.

“Mhmm” she muttered, exposing her neck to him further, to which he nibbled upon further, sucking at the area ever so carefully.

Normans fingers went underneath her knickers, he soon found her folds, his fingers coated her entrance, applying a come hither motion, pushing his hungers against her, massaging the area. She could only moan in response, ever so quietly.

“You want me.” He insisted, applying more pressure and continuing to suck on the skin of her neck. She was sure she’d have hickies in morning.

She didn’t reply, only welcomed his touch, opening her legs further for him to get a better access. He was playing a game, trying to prove a point, she knew that but by god he turned her on.

“You can open your legs for me all you want sweetheart. But until you admit you want me I’m not going to touch you any further.”

The response the women below him offered was a whimper.

“Admit it.” He hissed.

“For fuck sake norman just finger me.” She begged.

“Admit you want me.” He pushed her further against the wall.

“I want you.” She moaned opening her legs even further.

His mouth fell against hers, engulfing her in a kiss filled with desperation and longing. Like he was trying to send her a message, he hung onto her lips for dear life, like she was the life raft he’d been searching for.

Using his fingers he opened her folds and slid a finger into her core. This caused her to moan approvingly against his lips. He continued to finger fuck her, inserting a second finger and then a third. Her hips rocked against his hand, the position they where currently in wasn’t giving them the best angles but by god she was about to come at any moment.

And then his thumb reached for her clit, after sliding her panties down her legs to get better access. The motions from the thumb, circling her clit, just the right amount of pressures she was seeing stars.

“Cum.” He instructed, digging his fingers in deep and taking them out fast, god his rhythm was heavenly.

And as instructed she obliged and came hard and heavy on his hand, his lips straight on hers muffling her cries, they where still in public after all.

“(Y/N)!”called out Peter from around the corner, snapping her out of it and pulling her back into reality.

Norman pulled away and she saw a smirk on his face, he brought his fingers to his lips and swirled his tongue around each one, licking her juices clean.

She adjusted her hair and pulled up her knickers, quickly sorting herself out to make her presentable again. Norman straightened out his jacket.

Peter then appeared from around the corner.

“(Y/N) I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Oh hi Mr Osborn.” Peters eyes darted to the broken glass on the floor.

“Sorry Peter, I came out for some air and Norman was here too, he startled me a bit. I spilt my drink haha. Let’s go get another yeah?” She smiled walking away from Norman.

Only she’d dropped her clutch.

#norman osborn x reader #norman osborne #norman osborn #green goblin #green goblin x reader #LTGchanges

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hello! This is kind of a long request and well- Hopefully you’re fine with doing temporary Body Swap. :>

So basically Bakugou and his Male S/O are pro heroes and when out on a mission, they both get hit by a villain who has a swap quirk. Basically, they just swapped bodies. (Y/n is in Bakugou’s body and Bakugou is in Y/n’s body, they basically just switched minds.) They are told by the other pro heroes that the two should go home and take the day off. Unfortunately, nobody knows how long the quirk effect will stay, but they were convinced it was only temporary. So the two go back to their shared apartment and the day goes on pretty normal- besides the fact that, you know, they’ve swapped bodies. Though later Y/n gets a bit of an idea. What if he were to f*ck Bakugou in this body? The thought seemed kinda strange at first since he would literally be f*cking his own body, but he couldn’t deny that the thought was turning him on. Especially wanting to see Bakugou’s reaction. So, he basically handcuffs Bakugou to prevent him from struggling and.. while in the middle of doing it, something happens.. Shit! Why did it have to happen now?? Y/n panics in his head as he realizes they just swapped bodies again, and he is now at the mercy of Bakugou Katsuki himself..

I actually sent a request kinda similar to this to someone else but it was a while ago and they haven’t responded so they may not have liked it, or it just didn’t arrive. And sorry for choosing Bakugou again, you just may be able to figure out who my favorite character is.. Sorry for my rambling.

If you don’t wanna do it, that’s fine. Anyways, have a good day/night, man!

in his shoes (nsfw) bakugou x reader

pronouns: he/him

warnings: body swapping during sex, bottom and top reader+bakugou, selfcest (?), degrading, bratty behavior, claimming and possesive themes, bondage (handcuffs)

a/n: i really like this concept and i will write it don't worry 😎👍 i usually write all of my requests anyways. im also sorry this took literally 5 years.

_____

katsuki bakugou and y/n bakugou. the two of you have been married for 2 years now after you guys started working as heroes. you both went to UA and graduated at the top of the class. neither of you had time for love or romance resulting in neither of you confessing you feelings for each other. gladly, things managed to work out in the end.

"he's on it again, i need the bakugous here right now."

hearing the police force requesting your assistance, you and your husband show up on the case. it turned out to be the villain that the two of you couldn't capture the last time during patrol. 

"HEH?! look y/n, it's this motherfucker again. what's up with this loser, coming back every time it's annoying." 

"play nice now katsuki, let's just go and restrain him and let the police take care of the rest."

the two of you move quickly to match the villain's rapid movements. katsuki flew around using his quirk to attempt to catch him but failed. the villain was surprisingly agile and you guys had a tough time trying to chase him down. 

after around half an hour of chasing you finally cornered the villain on top of a tall building in the middle of the city that was still in construction. the ground was hard to walk on and somewhat unstable but you managed to find your balance. 

"alright, give it up, you've got nowhere to run now. 

"what he said, stop resisting and i won't blow your face off."

the villain's expression turned to fear as you started to close up on him. out of panic, he used his quirk. it was a small beam that didn't hurt at all. however, after a few seconds your body started to heat up, you looked over to katsuki and you could tell he was feeling the same. what was happening?

seeing the two of you struggling, the villain quickly left the scene but he had trouble moving around due to his surroundings. his movements were also somewhat impaired due to fatigue. it was most likely the aftereffect of his quirk which was why he was pretty reluctant in using it. 

the strange feeling in your chest wouldn't go away and your vision started to blur. next thing you know you woke up on top of the same building to see yourself lying next to you. was his quirk duplication? no it couldn't have been. you tried to stand up but felt the weight of some heavy armor dragging you down. you look down to see yourself wearing katsuki's hero costume and his gauntlet. still in awe, you heard a groan in your own voice next to you. 

"shit… wtf happened, y/n where are you where-" 

it didn't take long for your husband to find out what happened. 

the two of you have switched bodies.

you both tried to explain to the police who's who but it only ended in confusion. you went home with your husband after they put the two of you on break for "damaged mental" from the villain because the majority of the police thought you guys were crazy. 

there weren't any cases similar to body switching between heros before so the doctor said there's nothing that can be done other than attempting to wait off the effect. so there you were, in your husband's body, cooking dinner for the man while you saw your own body lazily sitting on the couch with your legs spread open watching the tv. 

life went as normal for the next two days, since you two were both males there weren't any problems whatsoever. however, one day a thought flew into your mind while taking a nap with katsuki. since he was the one who would usually top, now that you're in his body wouldn't it technically mean you get to top? 

physically you would be using your boyfriend's body to fuck yourself. but the thought of the all mighty bakugou katsuki taking his own dick, his bratty attitude, and lastly breaking him and making him fall apart by your touch aroused you in an indescribable way. you knew katsuki wouldn't agree to this due to his prideful personality so you had to take other measures to carry out your plan. 

you and kastuki had all sorts of toys laying around and you decided to give him a taste of his own medicine with them. while he wasn't looking you grabbed the vibrator, handcuffs, and blindfolds and put them all on the nightstand. now that everything is in place, all you have to do is wait to catch katsuki off guard tonight when he gets tired.

later tonight, after finishing dinner, katsuki was yet again sitting casually again on the couch watching tv, not giving a single care to the world. 

"heyy katsuki!"

"hm? yah?" 

"come with me for a second? i want to show you something!" you said with a sly grin on your face

katsuki didn't care enough to talk back, neither did he think this could lead to the ill intentions you had with him tonight. following you into the bedroom, you gestured katsuki to sit down on the bed. he obeyed although he began to have a suspicion of what you're about to do. using your new body, you abused katsuki's strong muscle and speed to restrain your own body with the handcuffs you prepare. there was no way for katuski to fight back in this situation because your body was simply not built enough to resist his. 

"h-huh? what are you doing dumbass…if you're joking s-stop it now, it's not funny." 

"oh i am very serious katsuki, now that i'm inside your body. i am going to fuck your brains out. i'm gonna thrust that bratty attitude of yours right out the window." 

hearing you say that, your husband looked away to avert his eyes while you heard a small gulp coming from his throat. you could tell he was nervous and that's exactly what you wanted. katsuki has never bottomed in his life before and he does plan on doing so either. 

finally having katsuki in your grasp, you decided to carry on with your plan. you put on the blindfold for him as he jolted in surprise. katsuki tried to get out of the handcuffs but later found his attempt futile. these were the toys he used for you too and he out of everyone should know it's impossible to get out of them. once your husband stopped moving you gentlt took off his pants, leaving him exposed wearing only your boxers with an erection under it.

"aww katsuki~ already hard and i haven't even done anything yet, maybe you're better off being the bottom hm?" you teased 

"s-shut up you shit head, just get on with it, whatever evil plan you have in store for tonight…"

"no need to rush katsuki" you said as you entered his asshole with 2 of your fingers, loosening him up for the vibrator. 

"we have the entire night."

you heard your own voice whimper as you explored more with your fingers. soon enough it was time to put the other toy in. your fingers left for a bit preparing the vibrator, leaving bakugou panting from the pleasure and clenching his hole around well, nothing. you turned on the vibrator and katsuki immediately noticed the familiar sound of what's in your hands. 

"o-oi y/n, don't put it in here, i-i won't be able to take it." 

"oh i'm sure you can~ you made me do it plenty of times, why can't the big and strong bakugou katsuki do it?"

without mercy, you put in the vibrator quickly and let the show play out. katsuki was moaning and groaning while you stroked your own cock enjoying the view. katuski's cock was bigger than yours and you weren't used to jacking off such a big dick but it was a nice first.

seeing a wet spot forming on katsuki's underwear, you knew he was ready to go. you took off katsuki's underwear to see the precum leaking from it, so much it looked like he was about to cum any second now. next, you took out the vibrator and started to spread some lube on your cock. you positioned yourself on top of the katsuki and teased his pink hole with your huge cock. 

"what do good boys say katsuki~?" 

"tch! i'm not saying it, y-you sadistic fuck."

you slapped katsuki's ass so loud that the neighbors probably could've heard you.

"i'm the one in control right now, you listen to what i say, understood?"

"f-fine, jesus christ! p-please y/n, put it inside me…" 

"that's a good boy…" 

after you fit ¾ of your cock in katsuki was already panting heavily trying to catch his breath. it reached his prostate you leaned down on his chest to bite on his nipples to make him feel even better. his hole clenched on your hole so tight you were barely able to move your cock around. you continued to make thrusts and sped them up each time. 

during your thrusts you suddenly felt the weird feeling when fighting the villain again. both you and bakugou's body started to burn up but it wasn't as painful as it was last time. next thing you know everything was pitch black. you felt a piece of black cloth on top of your eyes and a familiar size inside your ass. it didn't take you long to realize that you and bakugou finally switched back. 

you were glad to be back in your own body but why did it have to happen now?! out of all the times it could've happened this was no doubt the worst possible timing. you just teased the crap out of bakugou and now that he's in control again he can take his revenge right here, right now.

"oh? would you look at that…our bodies switched back…" you couldn't see katsuki say this but you could already tell the evil smile on his face. 

"k-katsuki i'm sorry, i didn't mean to tease you that hard i was just trying to have some fun y-y'know." you desperately tried to explain. 

"too late now baby boy… bad boys get punished for what they did. now… get ready, for the night of your fucking life." 

regret, nothing but regret. bakugou was already an aggressive person when it comes to sex, now that you pissed him off even more you weren't prepared for what he was about to do to you. 

without warning, katsuki pulled back his hips and thrusted into you harder than ever. you took his entire length right away and the full feeling in your ass was too overwhelming for you to handle. you started to blabber nonsense, unable to form words due to the pleasure. 

"c'mon baby… gotta speak up if you want me to understand you." bakugou said knowing damn well you can't talk back. 

incoherent moans and groans escaped from your mouth as you felt dry orgasms again and again from katsuki reaching your prostate. you were on the verge of passing out till you saw your husband's panting just as hard as you. you could tell he was very close as well. you tried your best to stay conscious and cum with your husbands. 

katsuki let out a loud moan as he cummed inside you. you reached your orgasm too cumming all over yourself. katsuki licked up the cum on your stomach as you slipped into sweet unconsciousness. he gave you a warm smile and patted your head as he took you into his arms and fell asleep with you. 

#bnha #bnha x m!reader #bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #bnha x male reader smut #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero x male reader #boku no hero x male reader smut #bnha x m!reader smut #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou x male reader #bakugou x male reader smut #bakugou x m!reader #bakugou x m!reader smut #bnha x reader smut #boku no hero x reader smut