#but also i feel like i solve one problem and about twenty new ones appear

[spoiledblog]

This is the development blog for the interactive fiction called "The Second Sight", which you can find on itch.io at the link above!

This is my first IF project, although I've been writing original stories and fanfiction for years.

I've included the story description and character profiles from the itch page below the cut.

This blog will be a combination of development info, images and music that I associate with the story, and other musings.

Fair warning, there might be spoilers from the latest chapters here, so I recommend catching up before reading too far.

Asks and submissions are always open.

You’re an urban legend in a county full of them.  When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.

Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers.  You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons.  You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.

However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

✤✤✤

The Second Sight is an urban fantasy story, where you step into the role of a psychic whose strange powers have always separated them from others. Those same powers will drag you down the rabbit hole and into a world that is both the familiar and foreign to everything you know. A world filled with magic, witches, fae, demons, and the unknown.

You can immerse yourself in the story by customizing your protagonist's general appearance, choosing how they interact with others, and whether you lean on logic or intuition to problem solve. There are three love interests planned (more may be added depending on player reception and feedback), the genders of which will be selected by the player upon meeting them.

Characters

Jacob Carter

Age: Late forties

Race: Human. Definitely.

Gender: Male

Temperament: Carter radiates grizzled, old bastard energy and despite being the least paternal person in the world, he is your adoptive father. While harsh and aloof on the surface, he is also fiercely protective of you and has bent over backwards to give a decent life to a kid that isn't even his. He doesn't talk about his life before coming to Herman County and you haven't asked him, though that might change soon enough...

✤✤✤

Zander/Zora

Age: Late twenties.

Race: Human.

Appearance: Umber brown skin, black locs, grey eyes

Temperament: Gentle and resolute, Z isn't what you imagine when you think of an agent of the mysterious Magic and Anomalies Bureau. Kind, soft-spoken, and exceedingly polite, Z is Carter's former apprentice and something about them puts the old man on edge.

✤✤✤ Renard/Rowan

Age: Appears to be in their late twenties or early thirties

Race: Human. Maybe.

Appearance: Tall and slender, white-blonde hair, and gold eyes.

Temperament: Playful and flirtatious, talking to R always feels like a game of cat and mouse and you can never be sure which role is yours. Part sad clown, part trickster, and always maddening to work with, the only things you can be certain of with R is that they probably know what they're doing. Everything else is up in the air.

✤✤✤

Unknown aka "The Kestrel"

Age: ???

Race: Definitely not human.

Appearance: Tall, beautiful, elegant, with black hair and black eyes.

Temperament: The Kestrel is a complete unknown. It's impossible to say whether they are a lethal ally or deadly enemy, but either way they are a powerful dreamwalker. You don't know how long they've been watching you, but you're willing to bet that it's been longer than you're comfortable with.

#pinned post #blog intro #interactive fiction #the second sight

[marengogo]

UGH!-6: But like … Did They Stutter?

Yet To Come - by BTS  [Proof]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

…

Given that even my coworkers, who generally REALLY DON’T CARE/KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT BTS except for the ones who now have started listening to some of their songs thanks to yours truly, came to me saying “So. BTS. They are disbanding uh? …” the day after FESTA 2022 dinner, I’d say it wouldn’t be a gross generalization to assume that at least every ARMY, OT7, x/y/z-biased, solo, anti, shipper, whatever-you-prefer-to-be-called, saw FESTA 2022 dinner. Right? 

If you haven’t I’d highly recommend you to do so but as always you feel free to do you as the boys did explain everything that they could at the time, which is pretty much what is happening right now. They also made a couple of sentiments and statements clear, and I, for one, am writing this post even though I am painfully aware that the boys are never going to see it, yet I still wish to put out this message in the universe, maybe its energy will manifest and reach them somehow, as I would really like them not to think that we all have poor listening and reading comprehension. 

BTS’ CHAPTER 1: THE END OF AN ERA.

The Beatles. The Jackson 5. Menudo. New Edition. Backstreet Boys. One Direction.

According to the following Wiki definition this is what they all have in common:

A boy band is loosely defined as a vocal group consisting of young male singers, usually in their teenage years or in their twenties at the time of formation.[1] Generally, boy bands perform love songs marketed towards girls and young women. Many boy bands dance as well as sing, usually giving highly choreographed performances. South Korean boy bands usually also have designated rappers 🤡 LOL LOL LOL 🤡.

That being said, with hindsight, we can add/examine a couple of aspects, which have surfaced through the years and further represent boy bands. For example, the fact that at the very beginning boy bands were usually the union of a group of friends, or classmates, basically, people who already knew each other. Let’s fast forward a couple of decades, and we see that the music industry catches on to the fact that waiting for the next phenomenal boy band to magically appear is not sustainable and that is when they realise that they can actually make the groups themselves. So starts the scouting and the auditioning with the sole goal of slapping together supposedly talented boys who are complete strangers to one another, but who at the very least, have a desire to become rich and famous. “Win-win”. 

Moving on, around the same time, we'll have to leave the West and take a trip to East-Asia, where the boy band industry has had an even bigger eureka moment. What they’ve realized is that even though these boys may not have the affinity of a band of boys who already know each other, from a business point of view they can easily be molded into whatever it is on demand at the very moment, afterall, everybody loves a good story, and even better if it comes with a great soundtrack. So what better than creating a narrative for these boy bands, each member would have a role/character associated and fans can not only enjoy the music but also follow a sort of “storyline” as they watch for example the silent masculine strong member interact with the cute feminine talkative one. Even greater “win”, brr brr!.

Now, in an ideal world, all that reasoning would make sense and bring about endless profit, but we don’t live in such a place do we? The whole purpose of a business is to make money and if money is what you base your every decision on, sooner or later, you are bound to encounter problems that money can’t solve without changing things irreversibly and in most instances, for the worst. The thing about grouping ambitious strangers with the intent of becoming rich (usually more for the company) and famous (usually more for the artists) is that if you don’t have a common goal all you are essentially doing is building a glorified House of Cards. 

And don’t get me wrong, Longevity, is something that this type of companies, and the artists themselves, could only dream to achieve but never actually aim at. Nobody does, because it is very much a pipe dream type of thing. In fact, for the most part, the company's goal is it to at least have one amazing CD, make fans go crazy for a year or two, so that they can spend some money, and then if it doesn’t work anymore, the artist would hope to have garnered enough fame to allow them to start perhaps a solo career, or at least stay within the business, while the group inevitably disbands and the company moves on to the next group. Rinse and repeat ad infinitum. This has been the blueprint, and it was indeed the same blueprint used to form Bangtan Sonyeondan. 

It was the same blueprint, but Bang SiHyuk was a visionary that had goals of his own, with a knack for unusual experimentation 🤡. And exactly like a Mad Scientist, if you will, he played around with what he believed to be “slightly usual ingredients”. However, what he didn’t quite know at the time, was that these “ingredients” were actually very unusual. Some of the “ingredients” didn’t follow instructions, some very quickly dropped their assigned character, and some even had secret jobs but what they all had, and he probably didn’t account for or maybe he did, who knows right? was an extraordinary fighting spirit, which pulled up strong when it became clear that it was Bangtan vs the World. These boys had something to prove. They had somehow found their common goal.

As we all should know, early Bangtan, due to Big Hit's lack of reputation and funds, became the industry’s punching bag. This would have normally caused an “explosion in the lab”, instead, it created something new. The boys were fired up with this fiery will to fight back. They took the negativity and turned it into artistic fuel and did all of that while naturally learning about each other and consequently depending on each other solely. Somehow, these boys ended up actually liking each other. They kinda fought like members of a band made of family members, but had the passion of members of a band of strangers. They were an anomaly. 

An anomaly in a world that had rapidly become full of “anomalies”. Your everyday listener was, yes, looking for good music, yes, looking for something new and entertaining, but when they realised that they could also get someone who they could relate to; … 🤯🤯🤯. And so the “ingredients'' began to mutate. Along the way, they found their true calling, while adapting to their environment and understanding their receptors fandom, which also understood them in return, creating a never before seen bond, Tannies & ARMY, that brought them to where they are now; a world where THEY are the blueprint has anyone else noticed the number of boy/girl bands that got back together. 

These boys have created something unique. 

Something that other “Mad Scientists” have ever since been trying so hard to recreate in “their labs” and so far to no avail. This “something” is not only insanely lucrative, but also so emotionally rare, and has a chance at Longevity. These are boys who trust and genuinely love each other, but because they are also human, and have learned to be honest with themselves, they also know their limitations. And like they’ve always done, they sat down, exposed the problem, and tried to find a solution. And even though they didn’t have to, they also sat down with us, FESTA 2022 dinner, and quite clearly explained their solution. But, as always, the world managed to take their words and turn them into whatever sold better on the front page of the next morning paper we’ll get to that later on or/and whatever better fits their personal agendas. 

BTS’ CHAPTER 2: A LIMITED AMOUNT OF TIME, WITH AN UNLIMITED NUMBER OF POSSIBILITIES.

Have any of you experienced moments where you just wanted some time to yourself? Like, you love your friends, your family, your job, your everything, but at the same time, you are mentally exhausted and you need out for as long as you can afford? This is usually what most people use holidays for, you might be thinking. But the type of out I’m talking about is the kind where you want to be able to pause your present life, start another life for a while, and then go back to your past life kinda out. Basically, a “have your cake and eat it” type of out. 

That’s what I feel the boys are trying to experience and I ain’t mad at it, not one bit. Cause, let's be real, most of us regular people can’t really afford to even think of experiencing such a thing without MAJOR repercussions to our everyday life. But not only do I feel like they deserve it, but if it also allows them to reach their goals, and solve their problems, it would be like killing two birds with one stone. I mean, they really are not hurting anyone, by wanting to have a chance to experience life outside BTS other than those who are setting themselves up to be hurt that is 🤡.  

October 2022 rolled around and we got the following:

This theoretically gives a precise time frame to BTS’ CHAPTER 2. Let’s say that being back together means that they will physically be together and do a WLIVE on the 31st of December 2025, that means that, if we assume their serving period to be 18 months, the latest any member can enlist is the 30th of June 2024 (which I calculated considering the 30th of December 2025 being their last day). Obviously, I don’t know if their plan is to be together by the end of December 2025 and start working on a new album in 2026. Or be together say by August 2025 and ready for a tour in 2026 with a new album; only time can tell. But for the purpose of this post: BTS’ CHAPTER 2 began on the 15th of June 2022 and could end on the 31st of December 2025.

SO, that being said, a couple of things happened on the 15th of June 2022 that I would like to point out and a couple of things, define a couple of others, and I would like for people to remember one particular thing:

THINGS TO POINT OUT:

Some OT7 ARMY decided to dip and come back when BTS comes back to be 7, so after MS.

Other OT7 and/or x/y/z-biased ARMY decided to support each member’s solo endeavour.

Last but abso-fucking-lutely not least, SOLOS FINALLY GOT THEIR TIME TO SHINE AND PUSH THEIR AGENDA, along side antis.

THINGS TO DEFINE:

FAMILY BOY BAND MEMBER or FBBMs: Is what I will call boy bands with members that already knew each other, or were already related, etc etc etc.

STRANGERS BOY BAND MEMBERS or SBBMs: Is what I will call the type of bands that were put together through an audition, selection, etc etc etc.

ONE THING TO REMEMBER OR REALISE:

There was a point in time when BTS was seriously considered by NOBODY. Many knew about them, but still wanted nothing to do with them. Some that knew about them, went on and treated them like trash. Even though they had the talent, it took their fandom at the time to be persistent in order for people to give them a chance. In short, differently from many FBBMs and SBBMs who eventually ended up splitting up after reaching fame, BTS experienced having nobody but themselves and their label and fame came AFTER THAT. Because everyone was a nobody before becoming somebody, but how many were nobodies, who were constantly shoved down by semi-bodies and ignored by somebodies before they became THE BODIES themselves? So yeah, they may be smiling to people that harmed them in the past, and they might have decided to forgive and forget in other instances, but as real and intended as the experience they had were, you can bet that so are the choices that they make nowadays. A method to madness.

If you are a businessperson like yours truly, or have dealt with managing a business, you probably know that it is like in Love and War; all is fair. Obviously, this brings about injustice right away, but this is a known fact, no matter how clean you are, if you come and play in a muddy place, what do you think is gonna happen? Not to say that everyone is trying to get down and dirty, in fact, there are people that try their best to keep clean, but the reality of the fact is that you are still playing in mud. Yet, there is a difference between purposely trying to suffocate people in those muddy waters and trying to simply play by the rules, harm as less people as possible in the process and going home to live another day and start all over again the next day. 

Life is about balance, that’s why I like the color gray so much, it is the balance between black and white. And even though the Tannies are our beloved artists, it is important not to forget that in their own right they are also businessmen. I’m sure they want nothing else than to be there for ARMY always in theri best capacities, but this is not a charity, their lives, and the people who work for them, depend on the amount of money they make; this needs to not be forgotten. Now, how they make this money, all depends on the muddy field they play in, but from what I can see they really try their darn best to keep as clean as they can and harm as few people as humanly possible. 

ALL THAT to say that, when you experience having NOTHING with a group of PEOPLE, you will TREASURE THAT GROUP OF PEOPLE. Hence, ONCE AGAIN and it will not be the last time, I’ll keep hammering this, Chapter 2 wasn’t brought by for them to spread their wings and keep the fuck out, but as a means for them to have the experience they each want to have so that they can eventually be together again, healthily in order ot achieve Longevity which I will also get to towards the end of this post, don’t worry. And this brings me right to the current issues on the fandom-streets: FAVORITISM & SOLOS.

So at the moment “JUNGKOOK and his radio play” are the most recent subject. I will not go in depth, as I’ll be damned if I brought up all THE UNNECESSARY energy that has been riding with this valid topic. In fact, one thing that I found very helpful in understanding the radio play issue, was the following post by Ororo and Artiechikoo: 

​​https://www.tumblr.com/chikooritajjk/722232413519052800/so-youll-are-basically-saying-since-the-industry?source=share

Now, once you’ve read that, you’ll understand that the ACTUAL ISSUE HERE IS: WHY DIDN’T HYBE SEND LIKE CRAZY TO BE PLAYED ON THE RADIO, and that ladies, gentlemen and distinguished enbies, is a legit ass question. However, none of the members have anything to do with ANY of that, or with anything related really. During Festa 2022 dinner, they all told us the order in which their albums were coming out, which would indicate that they all sat down months beforehand, and all discussed what they wanted to do during their chapter 2. I would also dare to say that they also all were responsible for their projects, promotions and every aspect of their chapter 2, but that is just me.

ANYWAYS, back to the Jimin radio play issue, which, once again, is A VALID TOPIC, that unfortunately is being muddied from all the shit that solos are bringing forth that has NOTHING to do with anything. Is like the story of the boy who cried wolf, when the actual wolf arrived, nobody was there to help. When you are still stuck on cakes, on accusing members of sabotage, or any moving thing at that, THE REAL PROBLEM WILL BE OVERLOOKED.

Also, just putting this out there, if you actually think that ANY OF THE MEMBERS is out there actively sabotaging other members, then rest assured that you are also stanning a phonie-ass person. If you took a second to check out every other member, for every member who is being sabotaged by members, there is a story about that same member sabotaging another member. MEANING that we would all be supporting a band of phonies, who wouldn’t think twice to backstab their band mates; ALL OF THEM. 

So when, for example, you are accusing JK of throwing JM under the bus, or in the mud, stop one second, breathe, and TRY to put yourself in JK’s shoes. Imagine for example, spending a whole day reacting to JM content, or even just the following:

And then, imagine not giving a fuck about him: HOW DOES THAT WORK EXACTLY? Yes we don’t like Scooter Braun, yes we don’t agree with MANY OTHER THINGS, but it is vital to know how to address the correct issue and not just burn EVERYTHING DOWN, or/and involve not concerned parties. So when for example, the company is to blame, then the fucking company is to blame only, and not everything you would like to blame along with it. 

I 👏🏾DO 👏🏾 NOT 👏🏾 CARE 👏🏾 FOR 👏🏾 SOLOS 👏🏾 IN  👏🏾ANY 👏🏾 WAY 👏🏾 OR 👏🏾 FORM 👏🏾. 

Not too long ago, I was making this example with someone who told me that there was maybe a valid reason for people to become solos, but to me it felt like people saying they had a valid reason for becoming Nazi; would I support a Nazi, no matter what reason? 🤡🤡🤡THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER WAY, and unfortunately, keep suffering for a while longer, is one of them 🤡🤡🤡Becoming a Nazi WILL NEVER BE THE ANSWER for me, in the same way in which BECOMING A SOLO WILL NEVER BE THE ANSWER. When you become a solo you actively decide to care fuck all about all the other members. Now the person you want to support, loves and wants to keep building something with the people you decide are expendable, so, once again: HOW DOES THAT WORK EXACTLY?  Being able to pinpoint the actual issue is hard, it is confusing, it is stressful, but it is essential, please please please understand that.

BTS’ CHAPTER 3: BTS IS ENDGAME. PERIOD.

… I mean, I really don’t want to sound like a broken record so let me allow them to say it:

💙:

Here is the link to the full article: https://www.instagram.com/p/CpgkLqbtEKB/?hl=en

🩷:

🖤:

❤️:

💛:

💚:

💜:

AAAAAND, Except for Yoongi who is being rightfully private precious:

ALL OF A SUDDEN, I have a feeling that Yoongi got a “matching tattoo with the rest of the rapline, so his tattoo is somewhere on one of his legs …These boys have spent YEARS OF THEIR LIFE fighting against all sorts of prejudice, hate, nonsense, and more. It used to be from those who never gave them a chase, but now it seems that the adversary-wave is coming from within the fandom. YEAH IT LOOKS BAD RIGHT ABOUT NOW. But let's emphasize the LOOKS part of that sentence, because Social media “ARMY” aren’t IT. 

When you spend too much time on any SM, it will feel like that’s what ARMY is ALL about but I can guarantee you that there are so many ARMY out there who don’t know or care about the noise and just mind their business and keep streaming and advocating for the right causes. There are ARMY who do their best to support the boys in the best way they can, even if they can’t afford to buy every single piece of merch. 

There are also ARMY who are waiting for the boys to come back and also those people who have no idea yet, but will suddenly become ARMY in 2026 when THE BIGGEST COMEBACK THIS PLANET WOULD HAVE EVER WITNESSED, will kick off after they announce their world tour. In conclusion, as always, DO AS YOU SEE FIT, but if you decide that, believing and following people who think that having the boys competing against each other for future solo supremacy is where it’s at, all I’d “cutely” have to say is that:

THEY DIDN’T STUTTER: OT7 IS ENDGAME.

HAPPY ARMY DAY 🫰🏾.

Always respectfully yours,

Marengo. 

#Marengo Goes UGH! #HAPPY ARMY DAY #They Didn't Stutter #OT7 ARMY

[diableasura]

A review of phase 2 of the SP series in general and UtE in particular

So I finished Until the End and if I had to summarize phase 2 in one word it would be 'retcon'. 

It was clear that by the end of the last book derek had clearly stopped caring about the rules he previously established and was just bending his lore to fit the narrative instead of the other way around, which is obviously not good since it basically destroys the stakes of the story and challenges my suspension of disbelief. At this point my disbelief has plummeted to the ground and shattered into a million pieces derek, thats how suspended my disbelief currently is.

Also where's this sudden obsession with family trees coming from?! When cassion being skulduggerys son was debunked I was so relieved cause the whole concept of skul having a secret child all along was so ridiculous and out of left field it never would have been a credible plot point, you only had to stop and think about it for more than one second to conclude that that new information clearly didn't fit in with what we knew from phase 1. It seems derek sensed my relief though, and decided to spite me with this last book, so now not only does skulduggery have a secret daughter who's painfully uninteresting he also has twenty one grandkids, twenty of whom aren't even named and can hardly count as their own characters.

When I heard about phase 2 for the first time I for sure didn't expect it to end with skulduggery having twenty one grandkids he knew nothing about.

This leads quite nicely into another problem I have which is that most of the new characters introduced in phase 2 are boring at best and infuriating at worst. Omen for the most part was bearable but his classmates are forgettable since minute one. But the character that actually pissed me off was Flannery like yes mr landy I get it I get that he's trump now can you please for one page stop portraying him so cartoonishly evil?? I mean this book series has had its fare share of one dimensional bad guys that do their job in the story but with Flannery the line between one dimensional and insufferable was crossed ages ago. I GET IT. FLANNERYS THE WORST. AND I KNOW THAT FROM THE PREVIOUS TWENTY CHAPTERS WHERE HE WAS THE WORST. I DON'T LIKE TRUMP EITHER MR. LANDY BUT CAN WE GET TO THE POINT WITH THIS CHARACTER. The fact I had to deal with Flannery for five books should be illegal. Same thing goes with Sebastian btw, derek kind of dodged that bullet at the last second by revealing him to be omen but that doesn't change the fact that the darquesse subplot appears in all five of the books and only has a resolution in the last one, which means that in the other four books it's mostly wasting pages.

Some characters do have some potential like abyssinia and crepuscular, but the story introduces so many characters and plot points at once every character except valkyrie ends up spread too thin. Some cases are worse than others like with tanith or fletcher, who has been turned into a glorified taxi and no, having him complain about it in the story doesn't solve the problem. Dexter is MIA for most of the books, and it feels like Saracen was only brought back so he could die a meaningless death. Astonishingly not even skulduggery is free from having to fight for the spotlight and that's insane cause he's skulduggery pleasant. His name is in the title of all of the books for fucks sake! He should've had so much more screen time especially considering how much he goes through in phase 2 but noooo, we needed to have two dozen chapters about Flannery and a dozen about Sebastian, those characters are sooo much more interesting than skulduggery! (sarcasm if it wasn't clear).

There was a scene in until the end where skulduggerys sibling suddlenly are revealed to be back because of [insert vague explanation with no previous build up] and its obviously another of the dozens of retcons from this book alone, but one that I actually liked because it opened a door into knowing more about skulduggery which would mean more scenes with him and valyrie but then BUT THEN just as his siblings are about to air their grievances with what skulduggery just did in the story one of his sisters tells valkyrie to leave and she just agrees?! We don't get to see that conversation and its so frustrating!!

But it was clear as I progressed through the story and skuls siblings didn't reappear that that plot point was gonna be explored in a future book, so it was no surprise when I read that skulduggery would return in the last page of the story. And honestly I can't help but feel a bit annoyed that we'll have to wait for that story to be told when I would have rather read it in this book instead of the story we actually got to read. The faceless ones conflict has been resolved and resumed so many times during the course of these books it's become almost funny (almost) so I'm mostly glad that it finally finally seems to be gone for good with this book and perhaps we can focus on skulduggerys siblings in the next phase (that is, if derek doesn't decide to add a hundred different plot points that are terribly boring and makes us have to sit through them to get to the story with actual potential)

TL;DR: Derek is a known iron man fan and he most likely named these last five books as 'phase 2' as a way to mimic the phases of the mcu, but i find it ironic how his book series is also mimicking the mcu´s phase 4 in terms of its drop in quality and its overreliance on nostalgia to keep the readers enganged. I didn´t want ghastly back in the story derek, i wanted a story with actual consequences and stakes, you´re trampling all over your lore, undermining the first nine books and alienating the fans who loved those first nine books with this new direction you´re taking as a storyteller. 

5/10 and I´m being quite generous. Reread phase 1 instead. 

#skulduggery pleasant #until the end #until the end spoilers #derek landy

[stxrsdontshine]

[ freddy miyares, cis man, he/him. ] ✧･ﾟ is that [ kai westergaard ] who just stumbled into town? rumour has it that they’re the [ twenty-eight ] year old child of [ hans westergaard ] from [ frozen ]. i’ve also heard that they’re [ adventurous ] but [ aloof ] and have [ 1 ] sibling(s). i could almost swear i heard [ experience - ludovico einaudi ] playing when they appeared.

ᴛᴡ ɪɴᴄᴀʀᴄᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛᴏʙᴀᴄᴄᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ.

full name: captain kai westergaard. nicknames: kai, captain kai. gender: cis man. pronouns: he/him. sexuality: (tragically) heterosexual age: twenty-eight. date of birth: november 21st. zodiac sign: saggitarius sun, saggitarius moon, saggitarius rising. aesthetics: worn down leather journal, water-logged maps, nautical tools, sun-kissed glow, courteous smiles, deep thoughts, muscles that ripple like the waves, the smell of salt in the air, the taste of mead and ground up tobacco. parents: hans westergaard from frozen. siblings: one half-brother (lief westergaard), one adoptive sister (kristen bjorgman westergaard).

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, so they say. Except Kai Westergaard of the Southern Isles fell so far off of the tree– he was almost a different fruit altogether. Which is to say, Kai was nothing like his father Hans. Although he was a prince by blood and by title, he didn’t feel that way. He knew there was no way he was going to inherit the throne, being so far down the line. The prince had decided to forge a destiny of his own.

It was easy for Kai to convince his uncle, the king of the Southern Isles and the man who had raised them, to allow him to lead an armada of ships to explore the world beyond. That was always what drove the prince forward– learning about new things, discovering new places. So he figured he might as well have been serving his people in a way, coming home with spices and maybe obtain new land. Really, the goal was just to meet new people, hear new stories, and see new sights. The man just fed his wanderlust.

Unfortunately, the name he carried became some sort of curse. Namely, the instant mistrust that came his way from his own crew. And he’d had to prove his worth as their named captain. Time and again, the prince proved himself capable and intelligent, quick to solve problems or understand when he needed help when solving one.

During a stop at one of the docks in Arendelle, the captain was surprised at the immediate hostility he had been met with. Kai Westergaard was accused of aiding in the kidnapping of one of the princesses of the kingdom. A kidnapping he had known nothing about. And just like that, Kai had his freedom and his dreams robbed.

It was only natural for the seafarer to be disoriented when he’d found himself in this new town. Lucky for him, the place never seemed to run out of the things he yearned for– new people, new stories, new sights, new found freedom.

▸ The book he claims sparked his wanderlust is Two Years Before The Mast by Richard Henry Dana, Jr. ▸ Kai is a quiet guy. He often enjoys a good book to read. Those had been his only solace when he was young and wanting to discover the world, and then again when he was behind bars and longing to be free again.

#intro #intro: kai westergaard #frozen

[lara-strash]

.

#fml who would have thought that a semester abroad during covid could be complicated🤡 #i hate it here why is it so difficult to get into canada #let me in pls #i will also say this semester abroad is mandatory and i mean i wanna do it #but also i feel like i solve one problem and about twenty new ones appear #by the time it's actually happening my anxiety will probably be through the roof #so all i'll do is curl up in bed and not even do anything interesting #gotta love this whole pandemic thing #ok i will stop now ranted enough #and tbh i am really lucky to even get the chance to do this it's just kinda exhausting at the moment😔

[mementomoriifics]

After Hours - Sanemi x Reader x Giyuu (NSFW)

Tags: Student/Teacher, college au, pwp, praise kink, cunnilingus, blowjob, threesome, voyeurism, cuckolding i suppose??, sub!Giyuu, reader is cis female

Wordcount: 3204

Author’s note: A sequel to Office Hours! I suppose it can be read seperately though!

AO3 link

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"You look awfully happy."

You looked up from your phone at your friend, Zenitsu. He looked positively exhausted and eyed you with a certain kind of suspicion you weren't used to.

"What do you mean?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed as your friend gave you a look.

"You've got Sanemi-sensei's class next, right? How could you possibly be in a good mood? He's like, Satan incarnate!"

You snorted, a slight tinge of fear gripping at your heart as you locked your phone and tucked it away in your bag. Thank God Zenitsu was none the wiser.

"Just in a good mood, I guess. If it'll make you  feel better, I'll frown."

You pulled the most exaggerated frown you could manage, Zenitsu rolling his eyes at you but unable to stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"What would make me feel better is for my fucking roommate to stop raising fucking hell at three in the morning." The blond continued, the smile vanishing as quickly as it came. "Or if Nezuko finally texted me back."

His shoulders slumped and you couldn't help but pity your friend. He'd had a rather unfortunate string of bad luck recently that included the move of his previous roommate (a very nice guy by the name of Tanjiro). His new roommate was a very rowdy person called Inosuke who was part of the athletic program and who'd never heard of the concept of an inside voice.

Not to mention Zenitsu's rotten luck when it came to love. In the past month alone he'd been stood up on a handful of dates. Yet, he couldn't stop pining over his ex-roommate's sister.

Honestly, if you looked up 'unlucky' in the dictionary, you'd see Zenitsu's picture staring back at you.

"Just give it some time. I'm sure things will smooth themselves out." You said, patting the blond's shoulder in a way you hoped came off as comforting.

Zenitsu opened his mouth to continue his lament but the bell cut him off. He pouted but before another word left him, you interrupted.

"Gotta run! Sanemi-sensei hates people being late!"

"See you later then!" Zenitsu called after you as you dashed down the corridor to your class.

Little had your friend known that Sanemi-sensei was the exact reason you were in such high spirits. It had been a month and a half since your first rendezvous in his office and you'd visited him roughly half a dozen times after.

You'd also swapped numbers and your text conversation was full of flirting, inappropriate pictures and earlier today, Sanemi promised to take you to his apartment that weekend to 'finally fuck you on a bed'.

Oh, if only Zenitsu knew...

You made it to the lecture hall with just two minutes to spare, breathing heavily as you sunk into your regular seat. Sanemi was up front, leafing through his notes.

Grey eyes locked with yours for a split second and your heart skipped a beat.

You looked away and set up everything for class, startling slightly by the buzz of your phone. You fished it out of your bag, seeing the text previewed on your lock screen

'my office after class.'

When you looked back up at your professor, he wasn't paying attention to you. He merely raised his voice and started class.

You couldn't help the squirming at the thought of what was to come. Visits to his office always ended the same way and, God, you couldn't wait.

Minutes seemed to drag on as class proceeded. Sanemi-sensei was droning on about some theorem you had a hard time understanding. It really didn't help that you continued to get distracted by how he looked.

He was dressed in a pair of grey, well fitting slacks and a white button up with the first three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Over that he wore a slate grey vest with very subtle, green embroidery.

For someone as rough as him, he seemed to know damn well how to show off.

Sometimes you wondered if he did it for you specifically but you decided to abandon that thought quickly. There was no way Sanemi would dress up just to get a rise out of you, right?

You hummed, copying the problem on the board as Sanemi turned to explain the method of solving it, arm flexing as he wrote on the whiteboard. You fought your mind to keep it from wandering to the time Sanemi had those arms hooked under the bend of your knees to fold you double on his desk.

God, you were really a lost cause, weren’t you?

You managed to keep your thoughts from wandering for the most part until the end of class, finding yourself up and out of your seat quicker than you’d intended to. You spotted Sanemi barely concealing a smile. He’d probably tease you for your eagerness later but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be bothered by that prospect.

Roughly twenty minutes and a bit of loitering later to not appear too suspicious, you found yourself in front of your professors office. Excitement coursed through your veins, arousal already rearing its head.

You knocked, waiting for permission to enter.

Silence.

You frowned. Was Sanemi still occupied with something? Maybe he hadn’t heard your knock.

You knocked again.

Still silent.

You hummed, a little puzzled. You usually stayed behind a bit or hung around to make sure Sanemi was in his office by the time you got there.

He probably would be here soon, you reasoned, opening the office door and walking in already. You weren’t paying very much attention so when you closed the door behind you and noticed a red faced Giyuu-sensei behind Sanemi’s desk, you all but screamed.

“What are you doing here?!” you called out, heard beating a mile a minute.

Giyuu didn’t respond right away. He merely folded his hand on the desk, keeping his intensely blue eyes aimed at them.

“I was waiting for Sanemi. I would like to have a chat with him. And,” he hesitated, his face getting even redder. “With you too, apparently.”

Your heart sank into your shoes. You knew Giyuu-sensei's office was next to Sanemi's but the walls couldn't have been that thin, right? And surely you hadn't been that loud?

"What about?" You asked, trying to keep your nerves at bay. For all you knew his reasons were innocent. Though you'd doubted that very much.

Suddenly, the door behind you opened, Sanemi entering and freezing in place as he noticed that Giyuu was sitting in his chair. He bristled and straightened his back, obviously unhappy with the fact your time alone was interrupted.

"What do you want?"

You were caught off guard by just how hostile Sanemi sounded as he addressed his colleague. You wondered if there was any bad blood between the two and judging by Giyuu-sensei's reaction, if there was, it was very one-sided.

"Just wanted to ask if you two could keep it down. You're not as quiet or subtle as you think." The history professor's face was an even brighter shade of red. Sanemi, who now stood next to you, grinned.

"So you've been eavesdropping." He taunted. "D'you get off on that? Didn't take you for the type."

You felt embarrassed and had half a mind to leave the office and never come back. You'd effectively been caught. The jig was up and you could both be in massive trouble if Giyuu decided-

"Yes. Its-" the man in question halted as if he couldn't believe what he was about to admit to. "It's hard not to let it affect me."

Sanemi barked out a laugh as if he'd just heard the funniest joke. You were still ruminating in your embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. If only you’d been quieter. It hadn’t helped Sanemi seemed to revel in the noises he could get from you.

"So you're telling me you've been jacking it to me and her," you peeked between your fingers, seeing Sanemi gesture towards you. "fucking after class? You're even more of a pervert than I thought, Tomioka."

"I didn't come here for judgement," Giyuu took the crass remarks in stride. "I just wanted to let you know that sound carries."

"You're not gonna tell anyone, are you?" You asked, a little scared. Giyuu-sensei hesitated but before he could say anything, the math professor spoke up.

"He'd be too embarrassed to have'ta admit he's been getting off to it." Sanemi continued and you gave his arm a half hearted shove. He looked in your direction, entirely unimpressed. But then you could see the gears in his head turn. "I got a deal for you."

"Shinazugawa, I can't-"

"Shh, hear me out," Sanemi continued, interrupting his colleague.

Giyuu had risen from the chair and you noticed a bulge at the crotch of his slack, averting your eyes quickly. You wondered briefly if Giyuu was into humiliation.

"What is it?"

"You keep your mouth shut about this, and we'll give you a live demonstration."

Your face flushed bright red at the suggestion but you couldn't deny the prospect of it getting to you. The idea of Sanemi having you in every way he wanted with Giyuu-sensei's pretty eyes watching everything happen. It made you wetter than you wanted to admit to.

"Are you in agreement?" The latter asked you, his expression set to hesitant.

"Don't be so fucking formal about it, you weirdo." Sanemi taunted, reaching to grab you and pulling your back against his chest, his hands already sliding up your shirt. "Of course she's down for it."

You nodded in confirmation, biting your lip as Sanemi shamelessly started to grope your chest. Giyuu sat back down in the desk chair, his face forced in a neutral expression but the tips of his ears a bright red.

"Let's show him your pretty tits, hm?" Sanemi whispered in your ear, roughly hiking your shirt up and off, carelessly tossing it aside. He eyed the bra you were wearing  for a moment. It was one of Sanemi-sensei's favorites and you could see him grin out of the corner of your eye.

"Pretty thing, isn't she?" Sanemi said, palming your chest. Giyuu nodded in agreement, watching you intently. His gaze made a shiver of excitement run down your back.

Sanemi’s hands left your chest for a moment to unhook your bra and toss it the same direction as your shirt. Giyuu kept staring, watching the other man’s movements like a hawk. You vaguely registered that one of his hands had settled on his crotch and another wave of arousal coursed through you.

“Already touching himself.” Sanemi taunted, going back to playing with your chest, rolling your nipples between his fingers until they were still little peaks. He gave one of them a playful tug. “Maybe we should show him how good you are with that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Without thinking, you sank to your knees, earring a pleased little laugh from Sanemi.

“Is she always that eager?” Giyuu asked, voice thick with arousal.

“Only for Sir.” You answered, both men cursing under your breath. You couldn’t help but grin at their reactions, keeping your hands busy with undoing Sanemi’s belt.

“I trained her well,” Sanemi sounded almost insufferably smug as he watched you. “Put on a show for him.”

You nodded, freeing Sanemi’s cock from the confines of his slacks and giving it a long lick from balls to tip. You caught the soft sound of a zipper being undone and part of you wanted to watch Giyuu touch himself to the idea it was him you were pleasuring but Sanemi had other plans.

His hand settled on the back of your head as he guided his length into your mouth. His thrusts started shallow but you knew it wouldn’t take much longer before he would fuck your mouth in earnest.

“She looks pretty with a cock in her mouth.” Giyuu spoke and you glanced sideways at him for a moment, seeing him lazily touch himself, as if to draw out his own pleasure.

“She does.” Sanemi spoke, thrusting a little faster. “She looks even better like this.”

You had very little time to prepare yourself as Sanemi slid his cock down your throat, nose pressed against the little patch of hair at the base of it. You squeezed your eyes shut, hearing Giyuu curse.

After a little while, Sanemi pulled out, his cock coated in your spit. You caught your breath, looking up at Sanemi who was stroking his dick as he grinned down at you.

“You want me to fuck your mouth a little more or do you want him to show you how I wreck that little pussy of yours and get you to make all of those pretty noises?” He asked only a little condescendingly.

“I want you to fuck me, Sir.” You asked prettily, deciding to be nice and compliant, just to get a rise out of your audience. Sanemi grinned in a way you’d call predatory.

“Good girl. On your feet, c’mon.”

You rose immediately, watching as Sanemi grabbed the chair on the other side of the desk and moved it so Giyuu could get a good view of what he was about to do to you. He sat down holding his dick, a shameless display.

“Strip and ride me.” Sanemi spoke, all business. “I want you to face him.”

You turned towards Giyuu who was still drawing out his movement, hand slowly moving from the base of his cock to the head where he’d linger for a moment. He wasn’t as thick as Sanemi but he was just a little longer and there was a curve to his length you wagered would feel like heaven pounding against your g spot.

After your moment of staring, you took off your bottoms, running your hands over yourself to show off. There was something indescribably hot about being completely naked in front of two men who were still fully dressed but both hard as a rock.

“C’mon, princess. Haven’t got all afternoon.” Sanemi spoke, an urgency to his voice.

You walked over to him and hovered over his lap, reaching between your thighs to grab him and line his cock up with your entrance. The entry was smooth and he filled you up so nicely as your butt hit his lap.

“You feel so good, Sir.” you whined, swiveling your hips to get any sort of friction. Sanemi chuckled, pressing his hips up into yours.

“I know, baby. Now,” he pressed a kiss against your neck. “Bounce and take what you need. And be loud for me. We don’t wanna let down Giyuu now do we?”

You whined again, trying to find leverage and lifting your hips slightly only to bring them back down with an obscenely wet sound. You’d be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

In your lust drunk haze, you looked over at Giyuu. He had pulled his tie loose, gaze settled between your thighs. He was touching himself in earnest and it was the hottest thing you’d ever experienced.

Sanemi’s hands settled on your hips as he helped you set a pace and you moaned, eager and wanton.

“Hey, Tomioka.”

Giyuu’s eyes reluctantly turned to stare at Sanemi over your shoulder. His hand didn’t cease its movements and a shiver of pleasure ran down your spine again, settling between your obscenely spread thighs.

“Get over here and taste her.”

You would’ve said something, not in protest or anything, but it all happened too fast. Giyuu was up and out of his chair in an instant, rounding the desk and settling between your thighs.

“Is this okay with-”

It was kind of him to ask but you interrupted him with a loud, whined yes. That was all the confirmation he seemed to need before the black haired man buried his face between your legs.

His tongue found your clit with ease that betrayed plenty of practice and your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling. Thank God Sanemi was almost manually bouncing you on his cock because your body felt like it had become boneless.

It wouldn’t take too long before you’d plummet over the edge at this rate, between the feeling of Sanemi’s cock and Giyuu’s eager tongue.

“You gonna cum?” Sanemi’s voice sounded near your ear. You let out a damn near pathetic sounding ‘uhu’, earning a chuckle from Sanemi. “‘S a good girl.”

He then hooked his chin over your shoulder to stare down at Giyuu, taunting him further. You looked down as well, the sight making you gasp.

The black haired man was eating you out like he was a man starving and you were an all you could eat buffet. His arm was moving erratically, betraying he was still touching himself. His face was the prettiest shade of red and it was all so much, too much.

With a moan that sounded like it came straight from a porn flick, you careened off the edge, making Giyuu gasp at the mess you made. You felt Sanemi pull out of you and heard him groan loudly, signalling that he had followed you over the edge as well.

You were breathing heavily, slowly floating back down to earth. Absently, hou glanced down and you didn’t expect the sight you were met with.

Between your thighs sat Giyuu still, the bottom half of his face a mess of your slick and Sanemi’s cum. Obviously lust drunk, he lazily licked Sanemi’s dick clean, his eyes locking with yours.

“Shit, Tomioka,” Sanemi spoke, voice a little rough. “Keep that up and it’s your mouth I’ll fuck next.”

Giyuu whimpered and it struck you that it was the first time you’d heard him make noise this entire time. You saw him shake and it dawned on you he must’ve finally reached his own climax. He seemed to collapse against you, boneless as he rested his face against your bare stomach.

“Shit,” You spoke after a moment of silence. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever been through.”

Sanemi chuckled, pressed lazy kisses down your neck and shoulder, his hands running up your sides in a soothing motion.

“Agreed. We should do it more often.” He agreed, looking down at Giyuu again. “What do you say.”

“I’m willing if you two will allow me.” Giyuu spoke against your stomach, refusing to move. You couldn’t help yourself and ran a hand through his now messy hair, a chunk of it having escaped the elastic he used to tie it back.

“If you eat me out like that again, absolutely.”

Giyuu chuckled looking up at the two of you with nothing but stars in his pretty, blue eyes.

“Can I maybe fuck you next time?”

You looked over at Sanemi who seemed a little peeved, considering the request.

“How about,” he spoke after a moment of consideration. “We all get decent and head to my place. Then we can talk specifics. Sound good?”

You and Giyuu nodded, the math professor snorting in amusement.

“Good. Now get up and get ready. We got a long night ahead of us.”

#sanemi x reader #giyuu x reader #sanemi x reader x giyuu #kny x reader #demonslayer x reader #kny imagine #morii's fics #not sfw

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Slasher Victorian AU series Featuring Brahms Heelshire.

Divider by https://firefly-graphics.tumblr.com/

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 1

Prompt: 79

Brahms taps his foot under his large, dark oak desk. He taps his pencil on a stack of papers, legal documents for his clients, ranging from the mundane like Mr. Krueger complaining about his neighbor Mr. Voorhees, ranging from 'standing there, menacingly' to ' He breathed in my direction.' To the extreme as an abuse case against a young vulnerable girl named Carrie.

Brahms pinches the bridge of his nose, the paper in front of him the most important and he was to not be paid for solving the problem. He picks up the paper to re-read the sections that stuck out the most.

We are advising you on your son, Lawrence, we regret to inform you of his wild, ruckus-filled behavior. We understand that young boys have a degree of tomfoolery to them but he, Lawrence, is turning out to be one who fancies himself an urchin.

Brahms grunts, eyes scanning the page,

He recently had put candy, that was similar in appearance to the headmistresses medication.

Brahms chuckles,

He also has set up a boxing club. He charges the boys a pence a piece for admittance and takes bets against the two boys fighting.

Brahms bit his lip, his cheeks turning pink. He clears his throat as a co-worker glances his way.

His face fell as he re-read the final line.

If these behaviors fail to be corrected over the upcoming break, we recommend a crammer school for young Lawrence.

Brahms slams the paper down on the desk, he leans back in his chair, gripping the arm of the chair, "Crammer school" he seethes. Brahms made a vow to Gerti, to never let their son end up at such a place, he was to be a gentleman and a gentleman comes from a gentlemanly background. Not a Crammer school for the slow and sluggish, a Gentleman's brute offspring to be fed into the army for slaughter.

"Any plans for the night?"

Brahms snaps his head towards his co-worker, Mr. Bates.

"Any plans for the night, Brahms? Taking the maid out for another moving picture?" Mr. Bates grins and nudges Brahms's shoulder with his elbow.

"Ah, no, she's been," Brahms twirls the pencil in his fingers, "Busy."

Brahms glances at his desk, the picture of his late wife and son.

Mr. Bates's eyes follow Brahms's, "You know, I'm sure Gerti doesn't mind. Lawrence adored her, yes, I'm sure that boy is dying for a new one," He rests his clammy hand on Brahms's shoulder, "After all, a boy's best friend is his mother."

Brahms recoils, "By God, Norman, listen to yourself," Brahms brushes off Norman's hand as he stands, "A Boy needs friends his own age," He grabs his important papers, stacking them loosely, he yanks his briefcase from under the desk to slam it on his desk, "Not a mother as a friend."

You gleefully prepare the ginger beer, the old beige and brown bottles embedded with the Heelshire name. You scan the current bottle in your hands, "1771" you read aloud, "My goodness."

You delicately place the plates on the table, humming as you admired the beautiful set. "This costs more than one week's wage." Another tentative glance, "Which is why..." You twirl in the drawing-room, "I'm getting another job!"

Your mind raced back to last week...

The carriage ride was bumpy, every bump from a pothole to a large rock made your already uneasy stomach flip.

"Almost there, miss!" The coach called out to you, "Sorry for the ride, Daniel has made a donation to get the road fix, beautiful ain't it?"

"Yes, that's very kind of him." You opened the flyer in your hand, you read the bold letters over the top,

Apple Pickers wanted weekend work. Only at Daniel Candy's Farm

"Tis nice of him to hire those with no work history or those already with a job, ain't it?"

"Yes, that's very kind of him." You repeated. You brought your attention to the upcoming estate, the large white manor stood out among the hues of greens, from the grass to the pine and oak trees in a neat line leading to the entrance of the manor.

The coachman helped you out of the carriage, "Now, miss, memba' to curtsey and all that."

"Thank you, and thank you for being so kind."

"I only hire the best."

Your breath caught in your throat, eye bugged out to the tall man who appeared to appear as if from nowhere. You looked up, the source of the voice, the deep baritone still carried itself within you.

"My coachman, I only hire the best, shall you prove me right?" His voice was like thick honey, his onyx eyes were warm, his hand was large with not a hint of labor upon it.

You froze, swallowed a hesitant hello, hand reached for his, "It's is very nice to meet you," His hand melded in yours, his thumb rubbed the back of your hand in small delicate circles, "Mr. Robitaille"

"Daniel works just fine." He flashed a bright smile, his eyes twinkled as they stared into yours.

"Daniel," you bite your lip, "It's nice to meet you, Daniel." and curtseyed.

He led you along a light dirt path adjacent to the abundant apple trees. The birds in the trees sang a beautiful melody, they danced between the trees, the songs becoming more jovial as you and Daniel walked.

"You'll be working for the next three weeks, Thursdays," He waved to one of the workers picking apples, "Fridays," He nodded at a male with a wheelbarrow full of apples, "and Saturdays." He placed his large hand on your upper back, "If that is alright with Mr. Heelshire?"

You squeaked at the mention of Brahms, "Ah, yes,"

"Hesitation my dear, would he not be so accepting of a free woman working where she pleases?"

You shook your head, tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "It's not that, he just..."

"He doesn't know." Daniel finished for you with a knowing laugh.

You shied away from his words, eyes took in the mass of workers, happily picking apples, chatting with one other, the made it look easy being up twenty feet high on the ladder to pick the apples.

"Pray tell," Daniel removed his hand from your upper back, "Why do you need this job?"

"Well, money." You said earnestly. "I could use the extra money is all."

"For family?" He asked, accepting an apple from one of his workers. He admired the deep red color, "A gift for Mr. Heelshire?"

You wrung your hands together. You chocked in a breath, "It's private."

Daniel stopped, a low chuckle as you had noticed he stopped. He grinned as you fiddled with your fingers, face turned to the ground, a coy smile over your delicate features.

"What's his name?" Daniel stepped to you, his baritone sent a shiver down your spine. "I'd like to hear it be spoken from such shy lips." Daniel rolled the apple in his hand, nudged it towards you, gesturing for you to take it.

You hesitated, your hands shook as you tentatively grabbed the apple. You stared at the red fruit, the color deep and rich, "His name is Daniel Cain, well, Dan, he goes by Dan."

A startled laugh erupted from Daniel. You jumped, eyes darted to the workers around you, their eyes fell upon Daniel. "Do tell, does this Dan Cain happen to be studying at University of London?"

You stammered out, "Yes,"

"How admirable. So tell me, a gift for the young man?"

"No, it's." You roll the apple in your hand, you looked up at Daniel, "A new dress, I wish to look beautiful, well," You grimaced, "At least while with him."

Daniel frowned, his hand reached for yours, you gasped as he held firm, "Pardon for being cliche, but you are already beautiful, How your hair shines in the sun, to how the sun lights up your eyes, your timid nature is quite endearing." He winked at you.

"Come," Daniel gestured, "I shall introduce you to Carrie, she'll be your site boss for the next three weeks."

You jump from the front door slams open, Brahms shouting as he entered, "Please come to the foyer, my love."

You cringe, the nickname spills so easily from him, saying it like it was second nature, "Yes, Sir, be there soon."

"This instant, my love. I need you here."

Your eyes linger on the half-set table, too busy with your dancing and reminiscing to fully finish your job. "Coming, Sir!"

You walk out of the drawing-room, feet picking up pace as you make your way down the narrow hall, the green carpet embroidered with gold string, bought in Egypt, fairly recently. The walls a dark wood, matching the soil in the garden. The small lamps light up the hallway in a yellow hue. The walls lined with portraits of Heelshires past, their eyes unnerved you with every quick walkthrough you made through the hallway.

Brahms sighs and lets his shoulders relax as you step into view. He removes his jacket, tossing it on the coat rack, "Are the Victorian sandwiches done? Is the Ginger Beer ready?" He asks while loosening his tie, his adam's apple bobbed, "Hm?"

You wince "I was a little distracted, I'm terribly sorry, Sir."

"Brahms, we've been over this, my love, you may call me Brahms."

"Sorry, Brahms." You choke out his name, "Is there anything you need of me at this moment?" You place a warm smile over your face, eyes looking at him as he took off his custom-made shoes.

"Is it so bad for a man to want a woman to greet him when he's come after a hard day's work?" His bright smile made rock in place, heart thumping rapidly in your chest. "You know how good it feels to see your warm face as I get home?"

"I can't say I do." You answer earnestly.

"Do you not feel a sense of joy as I come home?"

You squint your eyes, gaze adverting his, you cough "Yes, I do." You look back at him, "I am simply your maid, Si-Brahms." You gesture to him to follow you down the hall, "I feel great joy when I see you come home to your...home."

"Our home. This place is just as much mine as it is yours." Brahms steps in front of you, gesturing for you to follow him. "You sleep here, eat here, are here every weekend..." He glances at the paintings in the dimly lit hall, "I mean, you must like it if you are here in your free time."

You flinch, nails scratching in the back of your hand, "Uhm, Yes."

Brahms reaches the table as he stares back at you, his eyes narrow, "Sit." He pulls out the ornate chair, his hand padding down the expensive leather, "Enjoy lunch with me."

You smooth your dress from behind as you sit, scooting up as he pushed you closer to the table. Brahms rounded the table, a jovial smile as he sat himself across from you, delicately placing a napkin on his lap.

"Now, how has your day been?" He starts, shoving a victoria sandwich in his mouth, rolling his eyes in ecstasy, "Mhm, my love this is delicious, you outdid yourself."

You giggle, shaking your head, "No, Brahms it's nothing. Just same old same old."

"You sell yourself too short." Brahms clears his throat, "This weekend," He wiped his hands of crumbs, "My son is coming home, he hasn't been excelling at school like he should be," He took a sip of the ginger beer, an approving smile after he gulped, "So I shall be sending him to a nearby crammer school."

You nod, "I'm sure in the end it'll work out for the best." He sips the beer, letting the taste linger on your tongue, "After all, probably be for the best he comes back home. I can imagine boarding school can be isolating after a death," You froze, eyes wide in panic as you glance at Brahms, "I'm so sorry." You place down the glass of beer.

Brahms laughs, the corner of his lips pulling up, "No no, don't be sorry, it's very true." He sips again, "Very true. Ever since Gerti crossed onto the other side, little Lawrence has been lost." He coughs, "He'll be more than thrilled to be home, hid loving father, his second favourite lady ready to greet him with open arms."

"This weekend?" you ask, "This Saturday?"

Brahms stills, his eyes squint, "Yes, I already said this weekend."

Your throat constricts, a burning sensation spreads throughout you. You look away, eyes catching on the ornate couch.

Brahms reaches his hand out to you, his thumb running on the back of your hand, "My love, what?" He raises his brow, leaning in, "What's the problem with Saturday?"

"I have something private to attended to." You state, eyes falling back to his, "I won't be here to greet Lawrence." You swallow, the burning searing through you, "I'm terribly sorry."

Brahms stood up, one stride and he was at your side, "Tell, why won't you be there? It mustn't be family matters, they live awfully far away, days by train." He leans in, "Something in town perhaps?"

You nod with a smile, "I shall be away this coming Friday and days thereafter, a flower picking job just a town over, the lady of the manor is allowing me room and board, very sweet of her." You sip more ginger beer, hands shaking as you brought the glass to your chapped lips.

Brahms places his large hand on your upper back, "Flower picking job?"

"Yes."

"What flower?"

"Excuse me?"

"What flower are you picking?" Brahms leans in closer to you, his other hand resting on the table, "I'm sure you know."

You grin at him, "Narcissus, beautiful flowers." You gulp back more ginger beer.

"That's a nice flower. Beautiful." He leans in closer, his eyes holding a critical glint. "Pray tell, how will you be picking a flower out of season?" He smiles down at you, licking his teeth, his hand clenches around yours. Your mouth agape, breath held. You choke as he leans closer to you, "I know apples are in season."

The air felt thick, the air from your lungs fell from your mouth in rapid breaths, the grandfather clock ticked, each one was felt in your spine. You jump as the grandfather clock thunders out his five pm chime.

You breathe in, "It's only for three weekends," You start, "No more than that."

Brahms chuckles, his fingers pressing into your back, "No more than that...why?" He rests his elbow on the table, chin in his palm, "Why the work when I could easily up your pay."

Your lips in a tight line, eyes dry, bugging out as you stare into his, "Savings." You lie.

Brahms slides his arm around your shoulder, his bicep flexing on the back of your neck, his hand running up and down your arm. He leans into your ear, "If by savings, do you mean Dan?"

#Brahms heelshire #Brahms x reader #Brahms x you #Brahms imagine #Brahms heelshire x reader #Brahms heelshire x you #Brahms heelshire imagine #Female reader #sfw #Candyman #daniel robitaille #Victorian era #Victorian AU #edwardian era #Dain Cain

[scarabky]

So.. my thoughts on The Grace Year below (obviously spoilers)

Here's the thing: I really liked this book. I just wish it was longer.

I really enjoyed the beginning of the book, the world building, the pace is incredible because it's slow and fast at the same time and it really draws the reader in. I liked Tierney and the rest of the girls and how the felt like girls, even Tierney, Gertrude, and Kiersten felt like teen girls which I love.

I do think there were too many girls. I could be missing some but I counted only 24 names out of 35, and some are named once only to never appear again. I understand that most girls are not meant to be individuals, rather this teen hysterical mob, and that there is a need to highlight how many women can't get married because there aren't enough husbands but I think something around twenty girls would've been enough. Especially considering that a big chunk of the book happens away from the girls. Tierney isn't making connections with them, we don't even know for sure who lived and who died. Again, for mob/groupthink purposes that's fine, and it doesn't matter who lives and who dies for this idea (except for Tierney, obviously, Kiersten, Gertie, and oddly enough Helen), HOWEVER when they come back to the county and the whole point is about this network of women and whatnot, I think it does matter who came back. Even in the campsite we know that each girl is important, each one is a story. They all cling to stories about girls like them and they all have names, and even when one person doesn't say, another will always supply the name of the girl they're talking about. So yeah, I think there were too many girls or too little time to know them a little bit more.

My Lord of the Flies is rusty, but Tierney is our Ralph and Kiersten is our Jack. That much is clear. Jenna and Jessica are probably the twins, though them being more like Roger would make sense too. In that case I think Martha and Nanette are the twins. I think Helen is Simon and Gertrude is Piggy, but it could be the other way around. That would mean that the dove is the pig. I know it's not a 1:1 retelling, but it's a very clear influence, from the epigraph. It's also a way to explain why Helen is so important.

Now the ending before I talk about the love storyline. I don't know if more pages would've solved the problem, but I felt like the last part and a half, from when Hans dies on, felt too fast for anything to settle. I'll be honest, I think there's too many twists too close together. Hans' storyline did surprised me, but everything else was relatively predicable, a matter of how, not if, sometimes not even when. The failed escape plot point was extremely formulaic and uncharacteristically lacking in ambiance. Maybe it was done like that so as to not give away the pregnancy card, but I didn't like it. It felt lackluster compared to the winter scenes in the treehouse. Everything happened too fast but not in a confusing middle-of-the-chase way. To use the Hunger Games comparison, I would've loved the failed escape to play out like the escape from the tunnels in Mockingjay: the narration is fast, the sense of urgency makes you want to read even faster, the details are there for when you go back but on first read they're blurry. Something akin to the climax of Shadow Kiss from the Vampire Academy series could have also worked.

As for the actual ending I have to say it was not what I was expecting. I like the ambiguity and the full-circle feeling but I wanted more interaction between the women at the county, more about the girls adjusting to life, about life adjusting to them. Because this was a weird grace year, they're not exactly like other girls who come back. Sure, the weight of normalcy and structure is very important and very realistic, but the women must know something's different. I just didn't feel like the story was finished at the birth. Again, maybe with a few more pages of life at the county before the birth we could've had a better sense of the sisterhood, how it works, who is in it, how much are they really affected by Tierney and the other girls' "rebellion".

On that same vein, I would've loved to see more about the next year's girls. I know the big moment is supposed so be Tierney's return and announcement and all of that but I think a better ending would've been seeing the first group of girls come back from the new campground. They're still just as scared, they believe in magic. Are they confused? Do they come back emboldened? Do they feel betrayed? When they don't feel the magic, what happens then? Do they come back healthy, strong, and close? Do they still die? What happens if there's no one to poach?

And that perfectly introduces the last thing I wanted to talk about: Ryker. I loved Ryker. Both as a character and as a love interest. I enjoyed the relationship and the build up, I liked the forbidden hurt/comfort love story and I loved how it allows us to get a better picture of society outside of the country.

I read a review that said that the poachers' "redemption" was showing that they're also victims of the patriarchy. I vehemently disagree. I think the storyline actually shows issues of class that intersect the problem of gender oppression. The poachers are part of the system to control and exploit the girls, but they're not the enforcers of it. They're victims not of the patriarchy but of capitalism and poverty that turns them into weapons to keep the patriarchal system in place. I think the relationship between Tierney and Ryker is meant to show that the girls and the poachers have more in common between them than they do with the men of the county. I think a key piece of this are the guards, who are explicitly branches of the county and the council (as opposed to covert branches like the poachers). With the guards there's the expectation that they live to keep the girls safe, but they don't care about them or their safety. We see this not only with how carelessly they let the girls die on the way to the campsite, but also with the revelation that the sense of safety from being an object of desire around the guards is a complete illusion.

I needed more time to warm up to Michael. Sure, it makes sense that he remains one of Tierney's very many blindspots until the very end, and I get the feeling that we're supposed to come out of the book thinking that he's a decent man, but still a man, and a powerful man at that. But none of those options gets enough development.

Anyway I liked the book and the story. I would love more of it to feel in the gaps, but I understand why we didn't get more. I think this is a solid 4/5 for me.

#the grace Year #book review #bookblr

[welllpthisishappening]

It all kind of happens in slow motion.

One second, Emma hears the crack of the bat and the requisite roar of the crowd, and the next her eyes have widened to a size most scientists would likely advise against. Because, standing at home plate, that same home plate multiple baseball players are sprinting toward, is her kid. More or less waiting to be run over. That is, of course, until Killian Jones.

———

Word Count: 4.1K Rating: Flufffy fluff fluff of the fluffiest variety AN: Writing has been something of a legitimate challenge for me in the last few weeks, but earlier this week @ohmightydevviepuu sent a link to this tweet, tagged me, and said what I basically took as an unspoken prompt. Like, you’re going to send me video of a bat boy getting scooped up at home by a player in the middle of the game and then think I won’t write about it? Not possible. Even with the aforementioned writing challenges. Nothing stands a chance against my love of baseball. Here’s hoping the Yankees turn it around in the second half. Neither Aaron Judge or I deserve the season we’ve had so far.

———

Biologically speaking, Emma Swan is perfectly aware that the current positioning of her heart is more or less impossible. 

Stuck somewhere between the back of her throat and the pit of her stomach, it makes her all too aware of the now-empty chasm in her chest, stretching out toward her arms and threatening the structural integrity of her lungs, neither of which appear all that intent on working properly. Oxygen is a luxury not currently afforded to her capillaries. Instead, nerves mix with anxiety and the telltale flush of adrenaline that probably also makes her look relatively crazy because her pupils are definitely dilated and she does not know nearly enough about science to be making any of these claims. 

Whatever, really. 

It feels like that ooze from that movie. FernGully, Emma thinks. With the fairies. She thinks they were fairies. She’s not entirely certain they were fairies. 

And the ooze was definitely oil, obviously. There was a message involved in that movie. Not one that she appreciated when she was seven and Tim Curry’s animated-oil voice sort of freaked her out. But, like, she gets it now. The environment, and everything. With or without fairies. With Robin Williams, though. 

She’s positive about that, at least. 

Robin Williams was definitely in that movie. 

Less positive about the ability of her heart to actually split itself in half, as it seems wont to do at the moment. So, as to make it easier when it inevitably soars out of her mouth and falls onto the scuffed-up clubhouse floor beneath her feet. Naturally, this will happen simultaneously. For maximum effect. 

Much like the fireworks currently exploding over the left-field bleachers. 

She’s not sure if fireworks do explode, actually. That seems dangerous. Likely to lead to injuries and sounds that don’t resemble the  oohs and ahhs a ballpark generally inspires. Explode probably isn’t the right word. Maybe something more like…detonate. 

No, that’s worse. Way worse. She’s got to learn more words. Find a thesaurus or a dictionary or—a fireworks expert would be ideal, honestly.

Someone who could give her a detailed description of the inner-workings of a Yankee Stadium pyrotechnics display on a Tuesday in July, enough words that Emma’s mind would still for a few moments, allowing her to catch her breath and reestablish a consistent heart rate, and both of those problems could also likely be solved by sitting down, but the chair to her left looks a little wobbly, and her legs appear to have minds of their own because science is rather quickly becoming a lie and—

“Is he alright?” She spins. Nearly falls over. Her knees are also awfully wobbly, that’s why. 

Despite all of that, and the overall circumference of her pupils, the voice doesn’t retreat. Doesn’t even flinch. Shows absolutely no signs of imminent stumbling. And that’s probably because the voice is a man, one who is in possession of world-class instinctual reactions, and his hair is still damp from his post-game shower and it absolutely makes her something of an atrocious mother to acknowledge that last thing as quickly as she does. 

His shirt sleeves are noticeably sticking to his biceps, so that helps too. 

Opening her mouth, Emma is going to say words that are both vaguely intelligent and passably accurate, absolving this Major League Baseball player of any of the guilt he so obviously feels. Which is just patently stupid, really. None of this was his fault. None of it was anyone’s fault, really. 

Except maybe the idiot who left his bat at that particular angle across home plate, but Emma’s an adrenaline expert these days and walk-offs are understandably exciting. First walk-offs more so. 

She’s happy for Scarlet, really. 

They won the game. 

Everything is fine. Great, even. She nearly jumps twenty-six feet in the air at the next boom of fireworks. 

The pinch between the Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows gets—

Pinchier. 

The little roll of skin draws Emma’s attention, effectively robbing her of the ability to respond like an almost-sane person, but she’s also still trying to rationalize why she can remember the words to several FernGully songs while also being unable to recall what flavor PopTart she had for breakfast earlier this week and she figures watching her kid nearly get run over by professional athletes approximately forty-two minutes before gives her a fairly reasonable excuse. 

For opening and closing her mouth no less than eight consecutive times. 

Like a goddamn fish. There were no fish in FernGully. Least not so far as she remembers. 

It’s entirely possible she squeaks on attempt number five. 

The Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows do not move. It’s equal parts frustrating and incredible to behold. 

“I should probably thank you, right?” Emma asks, not quite regretting the words immediately, but it’s awfully close. That gets her some movement. Of the eyebrow variety. One eyebrow, specifically. Arching up, it somehow still manages to pull her attention directly toward eyes that should be the star of their own marketing campaign. Not quite Yankee blue, but distractingly blue, and it takes everything in her not to huff as dramatically as she wants to. Once the athletic trainer is done with Henry, Emma is going to make him examine her lungs. Rationality rules the day. 

Major League Baseball player shakes his head. It’s dumb to call him that. She knows his name. Knows at least some of his history. Is still staring obnoxiously at his freakishly attractive face. 

Freakishly is kind of mean, too. As far as descriptions go. 

“Unnecessary,” he says, an undercurrent of worry still clear in the letters. Ducking his head, he takes a cautious step forward, almost as if he’s wary of what Emma will do, and she supposes that’s fair. What with the impressive vertical she’s in possession of these days. “Anyone would do that.” “I’m not sure they could, actually.”

At some point in this otherwise shitty experience of a night, Emma is vaguely confident something will go the way she wants it to. Aside from winning. She’s glad they won. Seriously. 

“No?” “No,” she echoes, and it’s not like she can feel him. A few feet of space separates them, so whatever heat appears to be wafting off the Major League Baseball player in front of her, with his damp hair, and stupid, stupid, stupid eyes is as impossible as any of the various impossibilities currently taking place within her person. 

And yet. 

He sticks his hand out. 

It’s disarmingly earnest. 

“Killian Jones,” he says, confidence replacing the nerves, and Emma begins to see why there are so many stories. And Twitter threads. Regarding his face and the potential for that face to date a variety of other attractive faces across at least four of the five boroughs. Somehow Emma doesn’t think Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, is schlepping out to Staten Island for a date. 

Nor does she believe that Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has ever once let the word schlep pass through his conscious mind. 

She takes his hand. 

It is—

Surprisingly warm. And...not quite soft, that’d be impossible with the job he performs almost nightly. But the calluses on the pads of his fingers aren’t as rough as Emma expects, which also suggests she’s managed to ponder the overall texture of Killian Jones’s fingers in the last twelve point six seconds, and that’s not entirely true. What is true is that Ruby thinks Killian Jones is real good-looking and has determined that the phrase quite a catch is the pinnacle of humor, so, sure, Emma has possibly considered the possibility of paths crossing and intersecting, and her hand looks minuscule wrapped up in his. So, that’s something to think about later. 

Their arms move. Bob up and down as society dictates they should, and he’s smiling at her, and she’s trying not to look like a serial killer, straining to hear the voices behind the door, and it does not work. 

“Why do you think people are so consistently fascinated by fireworks?” If he’s surprised by her absolutely inane question, he doesn’t show it. That’s points. For what, Emma hasn’t totally decided yet, but it’s something, and it’s probably good, and they’re going to play that clip on loop for weeks. Longer, probably. 

Every goddamn day if the Yankees make the postseason. 

When the Yankees make the postseason. 

Her dad wouldn’t appreciate the buffer. Leaves room for loss, and that is not the Nolan way. Not when there are championships to win, and this was supposed to be the best possible time. Smack dab in the middle of the season, with the All-Star break looming, Henry would get to suit up as batboy for one game that didn’t mean much and wouldn’t draw too strong of a spotlight, no murmurs about nepotism by internet trolls who couldn’t possibly define the word with any sort of accuracy, but also like to shout about canceling and culture with an almost alarming sense of self-righteousness, so, of course, the whole thing was now blowing up in their face. 

Much like the goddamn fireworks. 

It wasn’t Will Scarlet’s fault. 

Wasn’t Henry’s fault, either. 

His job was to get the bats out of the field of play. Doing it while the field of play was still active was a mistake any kid could have made. Just so happens that it’s Emma’s kid, and the grandkid of the Yankees’ hitting coach, and that means something to the New York media and the New York fans, and if Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman with an arm that can make cross-field throws with ease, wasn’t also so quick-thinking and sure-footed, scooping Henry up as he crossed home plate and avoiding the ensuing swarm of players at home plate, all intent on celebrating Will Scarlet’s first-ever career walk-off, Emma can only imagine what would have happened. 

Trampled. Stepped on. Broken bones. Concussions. 

They’re checking Henry for a concussion now. He absolutely does not have a concussion. He was laughing while he was carried off the field. Like he hit the walk-off. 

Front office is absolutely petrified she’s going to sue them. 

The thought hadn’t even once crossed Emma’s mind. Plus, she’s sort of busy. Holding Killian Jones’s hand. His stupid, warm hand. 

“Bright colors,” he says, responding to a question Emma’s nearly forgotten about. Jumping is more challenging when his fingers tighten ever so slightly. “Flash, boom. Taps into baser instincts, I think.” “You think people’s base instinct is to enjoy explosions.” “Phrasing that as a statement makes me think you don’t agree with me.” “You didn’t want me to thank you,” Emma points out.

“Well, no,” he says, and the precise way his eyes drop does something specific to all of her instincts. Leaves her flush with a heat that reminds her of Fourth of July sparklers rather than any sort of massive explosion, and that’s not bad, per se, although it’s admittedly a little surprising. As is the slight uptick of precisely one side of his mouth. It takes her a moment to realize he’s smirking at her. And another for her subconscious to admit that it’s working as intended. Her shoulders drop half an inch. While Emma pulls her hand back to her side. “Thanking me suggests I did anything to warrant the thanks.” “Big words.” “For a dumb athlete, you mean.” “That wasn’t a question, either.” “No,” Killian repeats, “it wasn’t.” “I’d really like to thank you. I—Dad told him when to come out of the dugout, so he definitely knew the rules, but I think he was super worried about you tripping over the bat.”

The smirk becomes a full-blown smile. Which is no less than forty-seven thousand times more powerful. Equivalent to staring directly into a solar eclipse or gazing upon the dark side of the moon, and Emma should at least do some research before coming up with these internal examples. Basic Google searches would provide her with the necessary information. 

“That’s more or less what he told me, yeah.” Emma’s nose creases. “Talked your ear off after your daring rescue, huh?” “Keep complimenting me like this, and my ego won’t know what to do with it.”

She hopes she’s not blushing as much as it feels like she is. The state of Killian’s eyebrows and the precise curl of his lips make that seem unlikely. “Your reflexes are unparalleled.” “Something about big bucks and why I get paid them.” “Oh,” Emma laughs, unable to stop herself, and she doesn’t remember deciding to stop pacing, only that her knees appreciate it once she has, “you think you’re real funny, don’t you?” “I think I’m moderately funny, not the hero you’re suggesting I am—” “Oh, I never used the word hero.” “—And you never actually told me your name.”

“Because you don’t know who I am.” It’s not a question, either. Neither one of them mention that. 

“I do,” Killian concedes, “Henry was also fairly quick to mention exactly who he was and where his mother was sitting.” Emma’s nose is going to freeze in this position. “But I gave you my name, which makes it only fair that we’re all square and whatnot.” “Whatnot, huh?” “Yup.” He pops his lips on the letter. Which is also unfair. In, like, the grand scheme of the world. The black ooze that is not actually oil when used in this particular metaphor recedes. Leaves Emma with a chest cavity that is partially full of butterfly wings and the growing sense of anticipation that isn’t quite as nerve-wracking as it should be. Like she’s about to step into the batter’s box with two outs and runners in scoring position. She’s totally going to hit against the shift. Fluttering her fingers at her side, Emma doesn’t lift her hand. It doesn’t matter. 

Killian’s eyes drop. To the movement. And her. And part of her shies away from that because part of her has spent a lifetime tucked into a shadow that didn’t belong to her and doesn’t belong to Henry, but now there’s some joke about Peter Pan to be made because they live in an internet-age and Killian Jones has a very good face. So. Viral video, enter stage right. Starring Henry Swan, Killian Jones, and the inevitably uneven pitter-patter of Emma’s traitorous heart. 

“Emma Swan.” “I think you should sit down.”

“Why is that, exactly?” “I’m worried about your legs.”

Whatever noise she makes can’t quite be classified as a scoff. It hurts her throat too much. And it’s not a laugh, either. Even as the butterflies threaten to rise up in mutiny of Emma’s more rational feelings, and she gets the distinct impression that Killian is reading her mind. Trying very hard, at least. 

“Sounds like a line.” “Might be a line,” he admits, which draws another wholly inhuman sound out of Emma’s barely-functioning lungs. 

“Did he kick you on the lift?” Killian hums. “You’d kick too if you were just hauled off your feet, so I understand the reaction. What I’m more worried about is the inevitable bruise on my foot from the bat landing there.” “Ah shit, really?” “I’ve had worse.” “But not in 4K video that people will play on loop for the rest of the news cycle. If not longer.” Narrowing his eyes, Killian doesn’t immediately respond. Mind reading requires a modicum of focus, Emma assumes. Instead, he rests a hand on her shoulder, directing her toward the chair and ignoring the soft crack her left knee as it bends. “That’s what you’re worried about.” “Stop sounding so confident.” “I can only sound how I am, Swan.” “Oh, I’m not sure we’ve reached nickname status yet,” she mumbles, pushing down the soft rush of metaphorical insects doing their beset to soar out of her barely-parted lips. “But, yeah, I—I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was totally terrified in the moment.”

“Understandable. Grown men barrelling down the third-base line at your kid are a lot to take in.” She snorts. It’s not cute. Not dignified. Killian smirks. “Should you be concerned that the Scarlet was making such solid headway behind you? Are you exceedingly slow?” “I am league average.” “How fast can you get out of the box to first?” “I’ve never timed it.” “Liar, liar.” “Please don’t make a crack about my pants,” Killian says, “I won’t be able to cope.”

“Oh God, you think you’re charming, too.” “I’ve had no complaints.” “To your face, at least.”

Throwing his head back, the laugh that erupts out of him is not of volcano proportions. Of which there was also one in FernGully if Emma’s memory is to be trusted.  An arm circles his middle, stretching muscle and ensuring that Emma notices just how corded that same muscle is, the slight bend of his wrist leaving her off-kilter. When he meets her gaze, she swears his eyes are brighter. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true,” Killian concedes, “no one has flat out told me I was lacking charm to my face.” “This thanking you thing is going great.” “And I continue to not need thanks. Why are you worried about the video getting out there? Filmed in 4K like you suggest, at least we’ll all look great. Sharp pixels and whatnot.” “What do you know about pixels?” “You basically heard the extent just now.”

She’s getting better at laughing. The ooze has almost all but disappeared, Emma twirling a strand of hair around fingers that are intent on moving, and it’s an old habit. One Killian’s gaze catches on. Immediately. Quickly. Seriously, Emma needs a thesaurus. “Baseball’s always been my dad,” she says. “And that’s—well, we’ve lived this game, me and my mom, weekend series and West Coast swings, waiting up for him to get home because the flight got delayed, but Henry’s just a kid, getting thrown into this world because of his last name and who his family is? That sucks. Nothing was supposed to happen tonight.” “Nothing did happen.” “Because of you.” “I’d like to believe Scarlet, ridiculously fast as he might be, would not run over a small child,” Killian says. “And, uh, for the record and all that, I got a bad jump off first because I didn’t know if they were going to catch it in left. No one wants to get caught on the base paths.” “Yeah, that’d be embarrassing.”

He must hear the hitch in her voice because the next thing Emma realizes, her fingers are twisted back up in Killian’s, and she’s warm and falling and flying, and it’s good and weird, and the door swings open. 

They both jump.

So, that’s something. 

Rushing out quickly enough that he nearly trips over his own feet, Henry’s head leads the way and finds Emma’s stomach, a tangle of limbs, and overly-excited words, all of which rival the now-finished fireworks display in volume. 

It takes Henry about five and a half run-on sentences to notice Killian standing there. 

His eyes widen. His mouth drops. Killian grins. Emma tries very hard not to die. It only sort of works. 

She blames the faulty body parts she’s in possession of. 

“Killian,” Henry exclaims, clamoring back to his feet and nearly falling again in the process. Hands that belong to both Emma and Killian dart out, steadying Henry while their eyes meet over the top of his head. Killian winks. He tries. It’s more like a blink than anything. “Hi, hi! You did so good tonight! And we won, and I got to go on the field and—and, it was so,” Henry heaves a deep breath, “we were so good.”

Collective pronouns do something to Emma’s entire state of being. 

Flips it on an axis she hadn’t been aware previously existed until it almost feels as if this was the path they’d been directing themselves toward from the start. Her eyes flit toward Killian. Who is already watching her. 

“We did,” he nods, “maybe next time, though, you wait one extra second to grab Scarlet’s bat, ok?” Seeing her own nose scrunch reflected back on her kid is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to Emma. The vibrating phone in her back pocket, might be. 

It’s one-hundred percent, Ruby. 

“That’s what grandpa said too,” Henry grumbles, digging a toe of the cleats Emma’s mother bought him last week into the ground, “but I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall.”

Definitely dying, then. A systematic shut down of all necessary internal organs. It’s not as bad as Emma would have expected. 

Neither one of Killian’s knees crack when he bends. That seems heavy-handed. 

“And I don’t want you to fall either,” he says, “so we agree, right here, right now, not to let the other one fall, huh?” Emma holds her breath. Ignores the pinch in her lungs and the clearly unstable nature of both her mind and her heart, digging her nails into her palms. To ensure she isn’t tempted to haul Henry back toward her. Or push that one strand of hair away from Killian’s forehead. 

Henry nods. “Deal.”

They hook their pinkies together. 

It’s adorable and as endearingly charming as everything else Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has done since he walked into that hallway. Less so when her dad emerges from the office, the athletic trainer on his heels to not-so-quietly inform Killian that he can’t just blow off post-game like that, and the second wink is as bad as the first. 

She does her very best to memorize the movement. 

And the joy on Henry’s face the next morning when a box arrives on their doorstep, a genuine, game-worn Killian Jones jersey inside. She doesn’t notice the note at first, tucked between the cardboard and the tissue paper someone must have bought for him. He can’t have bought that tissue paper himself. He just—it’s unfathomable. 

Emma knows he bought the tissue paper himself. 

As clearly as she knows that those numbers in that particular order will lead to Killian Jones answering his phone and that her voice likely won’t shake when she replies to the question written in surprisingly loopy script. Which is why, Emma will argue, she does reply. In the affirmative. To several questions over the course of the remaining season, and they don’t star in any more viral videos, but there are a few pictures once they clinch the division. 

Drops of champagne cling to the tips of Emma’s eyelashes and the ends of Killian’s hair, hands on her waist that blaze a quick path up her back and around her middle, and she has to tilt her head up to get the right angles. Of lips. While they kiss in the middle of the clubhouse, the hat someone forced onto Emma’s head falling and it’s impossible to hear over the sound of celebratory fireworks, but she can somehow still hear Henry’s laugh ringing out from the general area near Scarlet’s locker, and his jersey collection is growing at an impressive rate. 

No one can withstand the overall cuteness of him. 

Emma included. Emma, especially. 

Sometimes she worries she’s so happy she’ll burst, unable to contain the sort of emotion her body is still acclimating itself to. But then she realizes just how dumb that is and happiness cannot possibly be quantified, and her head is buzzing enough from champagne that she nearly misses Killian when he says, “people love the bright spots, Swan.” It’s not the most romantic thing he’s told her. Doesn’t crack the top five, quite frankly. She swoons all the same. With her kid laughing and her team winning and that’s about all the sentiment she’s willing to acknowledge before her tongue is in Killian’s mouth. He groans. She grins. 

And he’d been right about the video. It wasn’t the embarrassment Emma worried it could be. Was mostly relegated to the corners of the internet set aside for formerly popular content as soon as the season ended, spoken about only in fond recollection as the other seasons went on and the wins kept coming and all three of them stand on a parade float with the World Series trophy a few dozen feet away, several Novembers after that first game. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon, then. 

And yet Emma never entirely forgets. What the video meant and what it did and she’s not remotely surprised when it finds its way back to the forefront of the sports zeitgeist on a Wednesday in July. Most mentions come with similar taglines and messages. Something about feeling our age and wanna feel old because that bot boy, David Nolan’s grandson, Killian Jones’s stepson, he’s getting drafted now. 

Got drafted, technically. 

Third round, video of the soon-to-be third baseman for the San Diego Padres makes the internet circuits and garners plenty of interest. It’s not the most exciting video, though. Henry just hugs his family. Who hug tightly back. 

What is more exciting is the box that arrives on Emma and Killian’s doorstep. With a note that eventually earns a frame next to the last one and a wholly official, game-worn jersey that has a noticeable streak of dirt across the left sleeve. From sliding head-first into home plate.  

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #do not ask me why this is so full of ferngully references #i do not have an answer for you #the google doc title for this was: BaseballCuresWritersBlock #thanks baseball

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening. 

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things. 

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game. 

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine. 

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you. 

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped. 

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs. 

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it. 

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what’s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings. 

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!” 

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes. 

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint. 

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed. 

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows. 

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night. 

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off. 

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset. 

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch. 

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced. 

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver. 

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub. 

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks. 

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen. 

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. 

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance. 

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount. 

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

 “I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together. 

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket. 

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless. 

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through. 

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#travis konecny imagine #travis konecny x reader #travis konecny fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

[burnedbyshoto]

taoreta

— The world is in ruins, but there’s beauty in everything. Shouto is reminded of that when he crosses paths with a survivor who kisses him at the first meeting. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, apocalypse!au, cursing, violence, first time writing fight scenes, death, angst, fluff, blood, gore, vomit, & kinks (sexual frustration, hairpulling, biting, marking, scratching, desperation, breeding)

word count: 18,119

a/n: so the thing about apocalypse aus I found out is that the world building is so fucking fun that I forgot that this was an nsfw thing........ so I sincerely apologize if this feels rushed I tried to make this feel solid but like with enough world building to satisfy me. anyways, this is for the bnharem collab, you know the drill. this was not edited at all im so sorry.

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The world was in chaos.

Or well, it once was but still a hundred years after what could only be described as an apocalypse; well, there was still an apocalypse. 

Many years ago, well before Todoroki Shouto could remember, quite frankly well before he was alive there had been the introduction of something within the human genome. It was a mutation of sorts, a new gene that allowed individuals to unlock and evolve into these powerful beings that for years longer people used to write about.

People who could breathe fire, emit ice, and fly through the sky! For years it had been a glorious step forward for humankind, a hopeful promise that maybe things would be better — that all things would end better. If Shouto looked hard enough he could still see scattered newspapers in the abandoned streets; nearly destroyed papers from well before any of his parents or grandparents were born indicating the glory days of quirks.

But what was once thought to be a step forward in human evolution ended with a sickening twist. 

Those with quirks went on rampages the moment they turned twenty-five, slaughtering and killing everyone in their path. Their mind overtaken by their quirks with the single thought and decision to kill everyone who dared to stop them, who were weaker than them. It must have been terrifying back then, to be so meek, powerless, and afraid seeing people you had once cheered on in acceptance and grace kill off the population in the millions.

Humankind could never survive this.

Those gifted with such powerful feats were granted the ability to live on as immortals, that is until humanity decades later learned it was not true immortality. It was a mere obstruction that was solved when the quirk-given was killed by man. Other than that… they lived on, and on, and on. The false immortality yet another edge against humanity.

People with quirks — better known as the Taoreta today — were the modern-day zombies except there was no rise of the dead, no mass groups of people who craved your flesh and your blood.

No.

They were once users with quirks who appeared just like normal people, sure some of them had distinct quirk features, but for the most part, unless they were distinctly different you couldn’t tell until it was too late. 

Todoroki Shouto was different though.

He was apart of the few lasting survival groups in Japan, in the world. 

His group was called Yuuei, a collective group of nearly two hundred people who occupied a deserted boarding school entitled U.A. They were apart of the population that was considered to be quirkless, and well, no one had been born with a quirk within this base yet.

This boarding school, but what Shouto had been able to piece together after spending his entire livelihood in the confines of the barbed wired, specially scented gates they lived in. The Gladiolus flower was the worlds saving grace. 

By planting these flowers among bases and fragrancing them along borders and barriers, your area was both ignored by those with quirks or smelled so disgusting to those with quirks they would never dare cross. Of course, this wasn’t always true — Shouto had seen too many times the few outliers of this truth stumble towards the base. 

Eyes power-hungry, quirks blaring a kilometer away and that horrific silence before a battle. These monstrous onslaughts had decimated his entire bloodline, leaving him only by himself with his friends and chosen family. Everyone had still thought him lucky, he was born around the same time as twenty other babies. His entire life he had grown up in an environment where he always had someone to play with, to learn with, to practice with. 

Children were forced to grow up fast in this time and age, no longer was the world of coddling and gentle love. If you loved your children you would teach them how to be resourceful, teach them how to fight, how to kill. By the time you turned fifteen within Yuuei, you were expected to pitch in to survive. Formal classroom education continued on all the way until you were eighteen, but it was known that everyone needed to maintain some sort of educational standard so that Yuuei would never fall internally. 

Everyone had a part to play, a piece to do in order to keep things running smoothly.

There were the low-risk jobs within Yuuei starting with the janitors. They were in charge of making sure the school grounds and indoors remained safe and tidy. They applied the Gladiolus flower extract to the gates daily during the fall and winter as the flowers died out by then. It was an easier job, one that was given more to the young children and the elders who could no longer do much else.  

Then there were the chefs. They were in charge of the grand garden the community had created many decades ago. They harvested and cooked plenty of vegetables throughout the year, always managing to make just enough so that no one went hungry or starving for more than a day. As recently as thirty years ago, they had introduced their form of animal raising too. Mostly raising and killing deer that had stumbled within their main gates.

Then there was the government. The main part of the government consisted of three people — the president, the vice president, and the one training to one day become president. They took these jobs seriously, meeting every day to see what the community’s latest problems were, discussing to the hundreds of civilians working within this base to make sure civil conflict never broke out. There was also a council made of one member of each residing family member — Shouto remembers that it was his mother who was apart of the council when she was alive… he had assumed this role after she tragically passed, but it was not his only job.

Then there were the educators. These were the ones who dedicated their lives to learning and studying everything they could within their limited, never truly evolving standards so that each younger generation could have a solid foundation within this new world. Shouto remembered how Fuyumi had been so excited to finally reach the end of her second year as a teacher, her eyes delightfully hopeful, ever so clear and bright despite the life they lead. 

You could never forget the engineers and the mechanics here — after all, they held one if not the most important job. They were the reason why there was still energy and electricity running through the base, why running water was able to be used by members twice a month, why truly life on base hadn’t erupted into a complete dystopia, and of course, keeping the seekers and the medics alive.

Medics were a given. They were the true saving grace of the camp, Shouto thought so at least. They healed physical injuries, as there were always plenty of those, and they smoothed over mental trauma which was prevalent in every corner of this base. Without medics, they would have never survived this long. Shouto still frequents them aplenty, his trauma from the death of his family still weighing heavily on his chest, his lips always dry and cracked when he remembered how his older brother Natsuo had been ecstatic to join the medical line. He was so big and intimidating in size many had always questioned why he wasn’t a seeker, but Shouto knew his brother had the kindest heart, he wasn’t a fighter unless he had to be. 

And finally, there were the seekers. Seekers were by far the most pivotal, most dangerous, and least rewarding role within the base. Twice to three times a week, seekers were to leave the base and go out and search for survivors, resources, anything that may be useful. While for the past hundred years that people have resided in U.A. the local town had been their saving grace, always relying on the abandoned town for their needs, but they had cleared it years ago. Now seekers went out further to get items, all while still doing their basic patrols, and of course fighting off any Taoreta. When they weren’t out running around the country, they were doing patrols around the base to ensure they were always safe. This is the job Shouto has — a job that most of his friends held too. His father and Touya had also held this job long ago, but he had never been able to accomplish a successful run with them…

No… he had to block out that memory.

“Oi, Todoroki!” a voice clipped through his headspace, and Shouto looked away from the cabinet he was once rummaging through. “Get your head outta your ass and do something already, dammit.”

He turned to look at Bakugou who was as grimy and dirty as he was, only that his bag was full of crap and Shouto’s only had dust. Shouto nodded, an apology leaving his lips when his eyes returning back to the already pillaged cabinets and scoured what he could, collecting what he thought to be useful for the base.

It took fifteen minutes for Bakugou and Shouto to pillage all the abandoned homes on this street, they were a great duo together, often working together due to their abrasive and deadly styles and intellect on the field. They had a kill list of three Taoreta together, and an individual score of one on their own, it didn’t seem like much, but coming from people who held no power over these god-like humans, it was incredible. Most people never survived more than one attack from the Taoreta.

But it wasn’t anything to be relieved over, especially not when each survived victory landed them both in hospice care for months. 

“Sector five has been cleared,” Shouto spoke into his telecom the moment Bakugou and he emerged from the final house, his eyes glancing at the setting sun in worry. “How’s everyone else doing? Sun setting.”

“We’re all on the car already, waiting on you guys!” came Midoriya’s instant reply.

“This is all your fault,” Bakugou grumbled bitterly while the two of them turned on their heel and began running towards the car they had taken here. “Last as always!”

“We had the most houses to loot, Bakugou, it’s a given,” was Shouto’s easy response, not at all affected by the huffing annoyance of his friend while they reached the car.

Easy and grateful smiles were exchanged between the six seekers when Shouto and Bakugou rejoined the group, a whole day of running this block had left them with zero casualties. On top of all this, they all had full bags of taken items; Shouto considered it a tremendous victory. 

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“And what are we checking in today, Todoroki-kun?” Iida asked while Shouto dumped his bag onto the table.

“Toilet paper, paper rolls, canned peaches, flour, rice, medication formula for birth control, expired condoms, and some water,” Shouto listed off, pulling out the items one by one to the nodding Iida.

Iida was a member of the council, and also a seeker much like Shouto was. He was objectively the fastest seeker they had, often clearing out entire rows of houses in half the time it took everyone else. Iida was someone Shouto appreciated very much in this doomful life, a clear leader, and a promising candidate for the presidency one day.

“Oh! The canned peaches could make an excellent addition to Momo’s birthday coming up soon! Kirishima-kun and Sato-kun hit the jackpot with sugar yesterday! This would be a great celebration!” Iida announced, partitioning the different items into different baskets, each one placed into appropriate bins. Shouto remained silent, but he nodded his head, a tired sigh pushing through his lungs while Iida finished putting away his found items. “Momo will also be glad to finally have this formula in her hands, she’s been trying so hard at cracking the code for birth control! But alright! Now for checking in weapons, what do you have for me?”

Shouto’s hands immediately moved to the holsters strapped to his legs.

By being born into this madness, he was never given the right to using any of the guns they held. Guns and ammunition were scarce to come by, they were even more scarce than some of the items they were consistently running out of. When they turned eighteen, each member was given three bullets to attempt to sink it into a target 100 meters away, sink two bullets in, and you were given the right to carry a gun, miss and you wouldn’t.

Of Shouto’s graduating class of forty-one students, only three of them were granted that ability — and two of them weren’t even seekers.

Shouto handed over the knives he had strapped to his muscled thighs, the katana that was strapped to his back, and the brass knuckles that sat on his fists. He remained silent while handing over the fire and ice bombs he had managed to perfect under his parent’s original formulas. He never understood why he wasn’t allowed to keep those bombs, he was the only one who ever checked them out after all, but again, civil disputes could occur at any time, and if the seekers had weapons the rest of the base would be doomed.

“Everything’s accounted for, Iida?” Shouto asked watching while Iida placed everything away.

“Yes!” Iida confirmed, a smile on his face while his hands placed onto his hips with confidence. “Go and get dinner and take a shower!”

Shouto smiled softly. If there was one good thing about being a seeker that wasn’t just experiencing the outside world, it definitely was the fact that being a seeker meant you got to shower more regularly than everyone else.

Dinner was plain as always, a bowl of rice, a slice of deer meat, and an egg. There were a lot of hens here.

Shouto sat with his friends while he ate, quietly adding on to conversations, contradicting his friends whenever he could. It was the little things in life that kept him going honestly, and little things were having Bakugou trying to reach across the dining tables to strangle him while Midoriya and Kirishima intervened. It never failed to make him smile.

“What’s your new schedule for the week, Todoroki?” Kirishima asked, his head dodging Bakugou’s flying elbow with a sharklike grin.

Kirishima was an odd person within this base, he had sharp teeth that reminded everyone of a shark — most people had always assumed it was a side effect of a quirk that had been hidden for ages, but it turned out that while humans evolved quirks for the worse, they were evolving still. Shouto’s own naturally bicolored hair was a testament to that. 

“I go on runs Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday,” Shouto spoke with food chipmunked into his cheek. “Council meets on Tuesday, Thursday as always, so I have patrol at night those days. Weapon checkout and morning patrol Monday. Saturday’s my day off.”

“Oh, nice! Looks like all of us have Wednesday and Friday together!” Kirishima cheered, his arms finally letting go of Bakugou who had… calmed down. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a good stash and other sur— OW!”

Kirishima’s eyes narrowed onto Bakugou who had deliberately slammed an elbow into his ribcage, but his face softened at the thought of the word he was going to say. 

Shouto smiled softly, his head shaking despite it all and he stood up.

“I’m going to go and shower, one of the floors gave through today so I’m a bit exhausted,” Shouto explained, gathering the reusable plate, cup, and chopsticks he had assigned to him. He would scrap any residual food off it and wash it tomorrow — about twenty years ago the mechanics had managed to figure out a reusable and self-cleaning water system used to wash dishes. It was a game-changer for this community.

The echoing goodnights followed after Shouto while he left the dining hall, his hands fisted into his pockets while he climbed the ten flights of stairs to get to his room’s floor. 

U.A.’s building was very unique by the looks of it, even for its time when it was first built. It was created with four separate towers, each tower connected with a single walkway to its adjacent tower. From a ways back it looked like an H — at least to Shouto it did. It was to Shouto’s understanding that each tower was designated for different professions for the once Taoreta thriving society. One tower was for hero-in-training students, one tower for general students, one tower for support students, and one tower for business students — at least that was what was understood by the textbooks found in these old classrooms. Of the four towers, only the support student tower was uninhabited because there were always modifications and major systems running there and they needed all the room. 

Shouto, along with most of his friends, resided in the hero-in-training tower. Because he had once had such a large family his room — something that was greatly unappreciated by the other members of the community — Shouto had to climb all the way to the top of the building.

No one else resided on this floor with him, which was often nice because it had once meant he and his family could do whatever they wished. But with their passing, it was so lonely, so offputting that Shouto only returned to his room to sleep and that was it.

The shower was comforting tonight, the gentle smell of the soap drafting off his body along with thick suds eased him. His shower lasted only a whooping two minutes; they had been taught how to efficiently shower, wasted water was always a downfall. Even with the major technological advances they made, running water was still a problem they had yet to solve. His dirty grimy skin that hadn’t showered in three days sang in relief with the dirt gone; his last seek was that many days ago after all. 

With a towel around his waist, he walked back to his room, the suffocating darkness strangling him when he stepped into the room. Shouto paid no attention to the way his skin crawled in loneliness, his attention focused on placing the toothpaste pill on his tongue and grimacing at the sharp, minty taste. It seemed that Mei was messing around with the flavors again.

Finally satisfied with his clean-smelling breath, Shouto wasted no time in crawling into his bed, his eyes concentrated on his journal that read practically what was the same thing it always said every day he wrote an entry into it (the medics said that these entries were healthy for his mental wellbeing):

September 16, 2XX1

It’s been eight years since everyone died, and another day spent working. I’m not feeling any different from the day before, but I am looking forward to celebrating Yaoyorozu’s birthday this coming Saturday. It won’t be any different from last year, but it should be fun.

Signed, Todoroki Shouto

It took some time, but eventually sleep consumed Shouto, his mind restless despite his slumber.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Shouto paused when the blood on the door handle easily transferred onto his fingers. He pressed his fingers to his palm, the padding on the fingerless glove shining dully with the slick of blood across the material. He could only make one conclusion from this: it was recent.

“I just made contact with fresh blood,” Shouto spoke into the radio system, his eyes concentrated on the door he was supposed to enter through. “I’m going in, if I don’t respond in five minutes, assume the worst and leave.”

“If it’s an injured Taoreta—” Bakugou warned, his voice the first to respond over the com system, but Shouto already knew what his best partner would say to this.

“Can’t have me having all the glory, I know. Besides, I don’t think it’s a Taoreta, there’s no major damage anywhere and well… if it’s injured there should be some fight scene.”

Shouto’s lips tugged into a small smile when Bakugou began to argue back about how he noticed there was no major destruction around this part of the block, and he dropped his scavenger bag onto the floor. If this was a survivor there was no saying if they were good or bad, and well, Shouto wasn’t about to fight a bad one with 10 kilograms on his back.

The door creaked loudly when he entered, his hand pulling out the hunting knife he had. The other day his typical go-to katana had been broken during a brief battle between a weak Taoreta and a veteran seeker. It had been a hard loss, Shouto wouldn’t lie, but it was manageable because his knives had been salvaged. 

He crept in silently, the soles of his combat boots nearly silent against the floor while he walked in, his concentrated on the scene around him, all senses on high alert due to the insane anxiety from this all. His eyes dragged across every crook and nanny of the entrance room, not quite sure what to expected from this until he saw something ruby red smudged on the floor.

With a small nod to himself, Shouto proceeded forward, following the light trail of blood until he stopped into a room where the trail ended and no one was. He frowned looking around the abandoned room, old and long faded drawings covered the walls, the bed hastily made, and crayons scattered on the floor. 

Maybe the person had already left, he thought glancing down at the crayons figuring that they would be good to take back. But the moment that he turned to face the door, was when he finally saw someone, and it was a good thing too because he ducked out of the way of a quick, most definitely life ending swing of a bat that held multiple nails in it.

Shouto’s eyes were wide while he dodged and weaved out of the way of the swinging bat, strong elbows bashing into his ribs, and the occasional nail tearing into his skin. He could barely focus on his attacker, his concentration heavy on the way that this person was tirelessly fighting for their life despite the exhaustion in their bones. 

He weaved and dodged the flying wood, cursing at the way it nicked his skin in multiple places, and how their foot slammed into his stomach. It knocked the wind out of Shouto as he fell onto the floor, the wild look in their eyes as the bat arched downward only to miss him, embedding into the floor. Shouto took that as an initiative to slam his foot onto the hilt of the bat, the weapon clanging onto the floor while he tackled his attacker onto the floor.

“Let go!” you shrieked, your eyes in a panic while you attempted to twist your body out from under Shouto. “I’m not going to let you fucking kill me, you stupid fucking Taoreta!”

Now that bothered Shouto.

“I’m not some damn Taoreta!” Shouto spat back, his eyes narrowing down onto how you were struggling against his hold. Blood was dried and matted onto your forehead, dirt, grime, and soot-covered every exposed millimeter of your body, and blood-soaked your arm. 

With that simple sentence, Shouto watched in almost confused annoyance when you snapped up to look at him. Your hair was matted, it was obvious that while you weren’t horrendously smelly, you hadn’t bathed in days. Your lips were cracked and pale, and your eyes looked so scared, lost, and still… excited? The tears that poured down your face highlighted the clearer skin that was covered by the dirt.

“Are you okay? You’re smiling pretty weir— mmph?!”

Shouto’s words were stolen from his tongue for you had reached upward in this desperate, frantic glee and kissed him firmly on the lips. It wasn’t often that Shouto froze, and honestly, he could count the number of times he had been frozen to the core, but with this desperate, longing kiss on his lips that exploded fire onto his cheeks, he was unable to move. He was only able to feel the wet streaks from your cheeks pressed onto his, focus on the heavy frantic breathing that passed through your nose.

His eyes blinked rapidly while you pulled away from him, a starstruck look on your face.

“It’s… it’s been a year since I’ve seen anyone who wasn’t a Taoreta,” you awe, fingers pressing onto his cheeks in an attempt to make sure this was actually real. “Are you real? You’re real right? Please don’t tell me you’re—”

“TODOROKI, ARE YOU ALIVE!” a voice bellowed, the door being kicked open, and both Shouto and you looked at the entrance of the room to see Bakugou standing there with his weapons drawn, teeth bared in a silent cry of war. 

Shouto didn’t know what to do, feeling as if the world’s gravity was crushing onto him while he gathered the confused, appalled look in Bakugou’s eyes while he looked down onto the interesting position he was in. You, on the other hand, felt more tears forming in your eyes at the sight of yet another survivor. 

“The fuck you playing hooky for?!” Bakugou yelled, his face contorted with disgust and something unreadable when staring at the position the two of you were in. “Who the fuck is this?!”

Shouto remained speechless, his mind still stuck on the fact that you had kissed him like separated lovers and not the strangers that you were. Worse off he was caught in an embarrassing position by Bakugou of all places who was quite frankly the meanest guard dog they had. You weren’t given a second to speak, to try to clarify who you were and why you were here because Bakugou clicked everything together far faster than you could defend yourself. 

“Don’t tell me this is a fucking Taoreta with a damn love quirk!” Bakugou snapped, grabbing Shouto by the collar and throwing him off you.

Your eyes widened in a panic, the sickening sound of unsheathing steel ringing venomously in your ears while Bakugou drew dual arming swords. You scrambled backward immediately, hands finding the hilt of your bat and spinning up to your feet in a readying position. Like hell you were going to be murdered. 

“Bakugou, stop!” Shouto yelled, pushing himself up onto his feet while the blond-haired man shot forward at you. 

He cursed annoyedly, unable to intercept or intervene Bakugou’s explosive fighting style with just his knives. But he also realized that you weren’t failing at keeping Bakugou away with just a bat in the small room. Swings of steel and wood whistled in the air while the two of you went at it, useless battle soaked insults being thrown left and right while Shouto could only watch as the swords embedded into the bat, and then into a wall.

Shouto acted quickly, his arms circling under Bakugou’s armpits, his hands locking around his head and yanking him away. 

“She’s not a damn Taoreta, she’s a survivor!” Shouto yelled again, both of them stumbling backward and landing on the floor while you remained frozen by the wall. Both the weapons stable in the wall despite the horror of what could have been the end of your life. 

“How the fuck would you know that?! She could be brainwashing you for all we know!” Bakugou yelled, his body twisting and turning, trying to get out the larger mans hold. “Slimy little shit got you didn’t she?!”

“I’m not a Taoreta!”

“She’s not a Taoreta!”

You and Shouto yelled in synch, your fingers thrusting up to your eyes. “Do you see my sclera?! They’re not fucking red!”

The two men froze in their struggles to get the other to obey their commands, both raising their attention to you, shocked by what you said.

“What do you mean?” Shouto asked, his arms still holding Bakugou in place, his eyes landing on you confused. 

You, on the other hand, froze. Your eyes blinked owlishly, fingers curling into a weak fist and placing onto your stomach, “Have you guys never noticed? Taoreta always has their scleras turn red and they grow darker with prolonged quirk use… that’s how you know how strong and how long they’ve been around. The stronger they are, the redder the sclera.”

“Get the fuck off me,” Bakugou growled, his body twisting against Shouto, but Shouto was too busy thinking about what you said, his mind sucked into his memories of that fateful night. “Bastard, I’m not gonna attack her! Let me fucking go already, dammit!”

Shouto let go immediately, watching as his friend rolled over onto his knees and stood up without a single hitch. Bakugou yanked his swords from the wall letting your bat fall onto the floor with a loud crash. His eyes burned into you, watching you with a borderline sneer until he walked away.

“Figure out what the fuck we’re doing with her, five minutes until we have to leave,” was the only thing Bakugou uttered before leaving the building.

“What to do with me?” you echoed, your fingers twitching down towards your bat. “Don’t tell me the first people I find in a year are cannibals!”

Shouto’s face twists while looking up at you, your hands once again grabbing your bat raising it up in an act of self-defense; agony and disbelief overflowing in your face. It was bleeding obvious now that you had been alone for ages, the already emotional polar ends of yourself revealed to Shouto even before he knew your name. 

“You need to calm down, we’re not cannibals, Bakugou literally walked away. If we were, you would have been dead already,” Shouto reasoned, his hands held up in a signal of surrender while he stood. His words were calm and steady, his “We’re a part of a surviving group, and we have a base up on the mountain north from here. You’re the tenth person we’ve found out here, and if you would like, we can offer you a place.”

“How can I trust you? You could be some cult group for all I know! Using me as some breeding whore to bring the second coming of the taoreta!” you panicked, your eyes wild with the fabricated lies you were drawing in your mind. “I don’t have the hips to have a child! I won’t bear your dumb cult a child!”

Shouto blinked, a low headache forming behind his eyes while he looked at your heaving form. He studied you closer now, your bat was frozen in place while you stared back. Your cheeks were sunken from lack of nutrients, your lips pale and cracked, and your eyes (once you ignored the savage glint to it) were like glass. You were not okay, even if you had managed to fight both Bakugou and him, there was no doubting that you hadn’t eaten in days.

Shouto sucked in his cheeks, by the looks of it you were running on pure adrenaline at this point — not actual energy.

“Meet back at the car in five,” Kirishima’s voice rang in the headset, and Shouto’s mouth pursed. 

“We’re not cannibals, or a cult, or whatever weird groups of people you’ve run into. We’re just… people trying to live to see the next day. Come with us, or not, I can’t convince you, but we have shelter... food, water, showers. If you want, we can be a place for you to stay, if you want.” Shouto speaks softly, his hands are lowered at his waist, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat to you. It didn’t matter to him if you went with them — you were just a stranger after all — but he wouldn’t feel right letting you go without trying to save you. 

You hesitate, your eyes looking down at your feet while you contemplate. He remains quiet, the voices of his friends ringing in his ears while they communicate on their way back to the car. But finally, he saw something that confirmed he would take you back by force. 

Blood dripped down your leg and fingertips, seeping into your clothes, staining the floor. 

“I don’t want to die,” you confess, your voice small and scared. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“I promise you won’t be alone; you won’t die on my watch… but you’re hurt,” Shouto reasoned, his body instinctually moving closer to you. You pressed against the back of the wall, the aggression in your body long having died out. “We can heal you, and if you don’t feel safe you’re welcome to leave—” his eyes hold yours, and he swears the world stills at this moment, he can hear nothing but your hammering heart and his own, “I promise you.”

You would later claim that you gave in because you were injured and exhausted, but your hand reached out with a tremble and took his steady one. It was weird, feeling his hand in yours, so calloused and worn. Even if all you felt were his fingers, this was the first time in forever since you had human contact. Despite everything going on, the own swinging egos in your mind that screamed at you to kill him or to kiss him more, sudden ease came over you. You didn’t trust him, you couldn’t — you weren’t that big of an idiot — but his dual colored eyes held yours steadily, warmly, safely and the only thing you could do was agree with him. Despite being brought up on one principle, one defining law, you broke it when it came down to this stranger before you.

No matter what happens, never trust anyone.

“I’m Todoroki Shouto, by the way,” Shouto finally introduced himself, his words breaking the silence that had fallen over the both of you while he guided you out of the house. “I’m apart of a surviving group called Yuuei, and we’ve been around for about a hundred years.”

“Y/l/n y/n,” you return with a grimace.

When was the last time you ever had to introduce yourself before? You had no memories of the last time you had to tell someone your name. His face lifted into a gentle smile, one that you couldn’t see as anything but being polite before he turned and began walking. His strides were long but quick, far outpacing you despite the obvious worry to your bleeding wounds.

You had been attacked earlier by some dying taoreta, and even with its dying breath, it was otherworldly powerful. The person who had nearly managed to slay the taoreta had been decapitated when you had accidentally stumbled on the screeching monster. Its fingers were blades made from its bones, and it had stabbed you before you could even fight back. The taoreta had destroyed the machete you had used as your main weapon, the splintering metal being what ended up killing the savage monster.

A ragged breath escaped you in the realization that you had survived that.

There was no stopping the onslaught of tears and sobs that ripped through your throat while Shouto pulled you after him. The stabbing blistering pain in your side and arm was throbbing while you tried to keep up. You had survived, the pain an undeniable testament to that, the bat dragging against the floor a reminder that you weren’t done just yet. Shouto’s eyes grazed over you, and you were grateful he didn’t say anything while you continued to cry, emotions, and relief washing over you.

Shouto’s face remained neutral if a little bit uncomfortable while he dragged you back to the car, his voice low and quiet while he informed the rest of his group that he wasn’t coming back alone. 

Still, it was to no surprise that the moment Shouto stopped in front of the car four of the five others were on edge, looking down at his crying companion. 

Midoriya, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Iida stood on the trunk of the car, their weapons were drawn towards you; hesitation and concern heavy in their eyes. Bakugou, who was driving the car, couldn’t even be bothered to look at you — after all, he had already okayed you. Well, Shouto thought he had okayed you, he wasn’t exactly clear on things like that. Besides, it wasn’t as if they came across many survivors to okay in the first place.

“Who is this?” Iida asked first, his eyes unwavering while you rubbed streaks of blood onto your face. “Is she dangerous?”

“I wouldn’t have brought her back if she was,” Shouto lifted an eyebrow, unamused with the stiffness in all their postures. “We disagreed earlier, but she thought I was a taoreta at first glance, it’s all good now.”

“And she’s okay now? She’s bleeding like a fuckton,” Kaminari squeaked, his fingers thrusting out to your blood-soaked clothes.

Honestly, it surprised Shouto just how weird his group of friends were. They were all unbelievably strong, each possessing the ability to have already successfully killed one taoreta, yet they were cowering in fear over you.

“Does she come from a group? Is she being followed?” Kirishima cautiously asked, his eyes leaving your body to scour the surrounding buildings. “Is she sick?”

Shouto looked behind him, his eyes taking in your paling and sullen form, you looked terrible. 

Pressing his hand to your forehead, he felt your temperature with both his left and right side. 

“No fever, but she’s bleeding obviously. I’m not sure if she obtained any injuries from fighting Bakugou or me,” Shouto explained clearly, only being able to answer one of those questions for you. “I can’t say if there’s a group around — or if she’s with one, but she said she’s been alone for a year.” His calculating gaze met the stubborn stares of his friends who could only stare at you, and a rush of annoyance flooded him while he ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t have time to argue though, the suns setting and we need to get back to base.”

“Put this on her,” Midoriya was the first to pull back, something that did not come as a surprise to Shouto, and he threw a bandana he typically wore around his wrist at Shouto. “If she’s not being followed, at the very least we can prevent her from relaying how she got to base.”

Shouto nodded, moving quickly to tie the green fabric around your eyes and piling you onto the trunk. Midoriya moved into the car with your new addition and sat next to Bakugou who floored the pedal and took off into the mountain. 

UA truly was a blessing of a fort, not only was is incredibly huge, but it had natural barriers to act in their favor. And Shouto relaxed on the bed of the truck, his head pressing against the cold plastic, a hand resting on the items he had recovered for the day, and the other one still holding onto yours. 

He tried to ignore the way they continued to stare at you in distrust despite having all your weapons inside the car so that he could sleep, but eventually, he gave up. His eyes continuing to glare back at his friends until they dropped their gaze on you. He knew you weren’t a threat, and like hell he was going to let them treat you like one.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

When the bandana-blindfold came off your eyes, your hand in Shouto’s began to sweat profusely. Your wounds had stopped bleeding thanks to the green-haired boy’s ministrations, but you definitely felt lethargic from the loss of blood.

Blinking rapidly, you looked around, freezing when you saw that the group of six men had expanded to much larger numbers of only men. Breeding cult, your mind hissed and you felt your hands twitch, a nervous thought to grab the weapons you no longer had.

“You’re scaring her!” a voice yelled, and your head snapped towards a voice you couldn’t see. “Who wants to wake up to a sea of scraggly, ugly men?”

Your jaw slacked when you saw a pink-skinned woman shove her way through the crowd to stand before you. No way in hell was she not a taoreta!

“Hi! My name is Ashido Mina, and I know what you’re thinking,” she spoke, her arms crossing against her chest while a prideful smirk spread across her face. “How is she so hot?”

Maybe if it had been a day where you weren’t half dead, lacking a needed amount of blood, and much more in control of your emotions, you wouldn’t have burst out in laughter. Your dirty fingers pressed onto your mouth while you tried to play off your peals of laughter to no success.

“Oh, I like this one already,” Mina grinned, her hands pressing onto the edge of the truck to look at you closer. “However, my skin is pink because of a dying accident gone wrong when I was a child. It was as permanent as permanent can get so… please don’t think I’m a taoreta!”

You nodded your head, your body wincing with the stabbing pain, and Shouto was quick to notice that you were still in pain.

“Mina, can we walk and talk?” Shouto asked, his hand pressing to your spine in order to get you to start moving, even without permission to do so. “Y/l/n has three wounds that need to be tended to; she already lost a lot of blood. You can do your welcoming thing and interrogation while she gets patched up by Shuzenji.”

Mina pouted; a sound of discontent with the arising situation, but she nodded. Shouto’s lips pressed into a thin-lipped smile, and with Mina’s help, they guided you off the car and onwards towards the infirmary.

“I’m not going to be killed, am I?” you ask, knowing it was far too late for your cold feet to be kicking in. “I never thought I’d be killed by humans.”

“God, no! Shuzenji is the best medic in the world, hands down. She’s gonna patch ya up, and I’ll talk with you while she does that, and then we’ll find out our best course of action afterward!” Mina exclaimed, her hand repositioning your weak arm around her shoulder. “I swear it won’t be that hard!”

True to her word, you were not killed.

In fact, the only scary thing you were met with was an angry, just woken up from her slumber, elder woman. After she had yelled at the crowd of men who had followed after you to leave you alone given that you were her patient, she had taken you inside with Mina. But you had panicked when she tried to get Shouto to step away, your hand which had not separated from his since the moment you had left the house unwilling to let go of him. So, he was permitted to stay.

You sat on an old infirmary bed, your pinky still touching Shouto’s while Shuzenji — nicknamed Recovery Girl by the surviving group — tended to your wounds. You answered a whole lot of questions from Mina while trying not to let your pain bleed into your voice.

You told them your birthday, your age, the last time you were sick, how long you’ve been alone (you couldn’t say why you were alone), and how you got those injuries of yours. 

They had been impressed with your confession that it was from killing a taoreta, even a critically injured one was monstrously powerful after all, and Shouto would argue the ones on the brink of death were stronger than when fully healed. Mina, however, was a great conversationalist and did exceptionally well at making you feel comfortable despite everything. 

They took your height, weight, blood type, and hell, Recovery Girl even tested your blood for infections you might have not known you had. She was a medical genius — a true benefit to being in this base. Despite her previous anger, she ended up being a very sweet woman, caring and charming while she fixed you up — cleaning and bandaging your wounds before leaving by giving you a homemade sweet and an orange to eat.

“Alrighty, y/n-chan,” Mina chirped, her hands pulling out a clipboard which seemed to come out from nowhere while she scribbled things down with a series of successive nods. “You have checked out perfectly in our first-day system, of course for you to be implemented in our system — should you want to do that — there will be voting on Thursday! Well, tomorrow really! In the meantime for tonight we would have to find you somewhere to sleep…” her voice trailed off while she contemplated your options. You continued to stare up at her with unknowing confused eyes, trying your best to keep the storming anxiety in your stomach at bay. “We have a few rooms that are open, but… no offense we can’t trust you yet, so we’ll have to put you somewhere with someone. I can ask Tsuyu?”

“She can stay with me,” Shouto spoke, his face expressionless, but his eyes soft. “I have one of the biggest rooms; it’s not that big a deal.”

Your anxiety lessened while you looked over at Shouto, unable to keep yourself from staring at him. Mina had no objections to this, a grateful smile falling over her features while she nodded, “Okay! I’ll send up a clean change of clothes if you need any? I have quite a lot.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you.”

“If she showers, you won’t be able to tonight. Mei destroyed a pipe by accident while trying to create a useable water source — it worked for two hours before breaking, so I think Yuuei will have constant running water by Momo’s birthday!” Mina chirped, her hands pressing the clipboard to her stomach. “But you’re good to go! Please still be mindful of any diseases though, just because you were cleared of the basic ones doesn’t mean you’re clean.”

You nodded watching as she too left you alone with Shouto. 

“My room is on the fourteenth floor, do you think you can handle walking up that many flights of stairs?” Shouto asked, his hand steadying you while you slid onto your feet. 

Despite everything, you were already feeling better. Your head while feeling a bit light was nothing compared to the groggy headache you had once had. 

“I might need some help, but I think… I think, for now, I should be okay,” you inform Shouto, and he nods in understanding.

So the two of you in a weird silence, eventually made your way up to his floor, your body shaking by the time you walked onto the floor, but your hand never leaving his. He showed you the room the two of you would be in, and true to his word, it was large. There were two tatami mats, one by a window, and the other by the door. Random items littered the walls and the floors, most of which were toys and things to pass time with, but it was so unnaturally domestic to you, you didn’t know how to react. It was now that he let go of your hand altogether (an action that made you realize just how touch-deprived you’d been), leaving you to take in the state of his room while he walked around.

“You… you don’t have to give up your shower for me,” you spoke while watching Shouto rummage through his things, procuring a dry and clean towel for you. “I haven’t showered in some time, and I don’t want to make you be in your dirt for longer than needed.”

Shouto looked at you, his head tilting slightly before he shook his head. He walked over to you with his shower things, handing over the shampoo, conditioner, and soap. “You need to clean up because you have wounds, I’m fine. Besides… you stink more than me anyway.”

The truth to his words made your cheeks burn, but there was no judgment in his eyes while he leaned against the wall. You stood there by him unable to think of anything to say until Mina’s fist knocked against the opened door.

“Here are your clothes! Some PJs and extra clothes! I didn’t know if you had any extra clean clothes or your size but with your measurements, I took a wild guess. I hope they fit! I took the liberty of bringing you what I could spare!”

“There are way more clothes than that,” Shouto commented, his eyes judging the pink-skinned girl.

“Sorry that I’m assigned to clothes and have to follow code!” Mina huffed, her cheeks brightening with embarrassment before she stuck out her tongue and ran away leaving both of you alone once again. With the clean set of clothes and the ability to finally fo what you must, you asked where the shower was, and Shouto brought you to where the shower was located on the floor.

You hated to admit it, but you were sincerely grateful he let you shower. Your fingers worked out the many day’s old dirt from your hair, the soap sudding against your skin while you scrubbed weeks old layers from your skin until it throbbed in its rawness. You left the shower with a wince from your now healing wounds, but feeling a sense of freshness you hadn’t known in a while. 

The PJs you were given were just a pair of sweatpants and a sweater, something you were grateful for, especially as the material was soft and warm against your cold skin. When you pushed into the room, you noticed that Shouto was sitting on the mat nearest to the door — leaving you with the one by the window. 

A small lamp was by Shouto, and you couldn’t tell what he was writing while you piled onto your tatami, your fingers immediately grabbing the blankets that sat at the end of the mat before pulling it over your body. You stared at Shouto in silence, unable to simply fall asleep, your thoughts much too fascinated with him. Why had he done this all? You had attacked him and his friend; yet here he was, doing much more than what you could have ever asked from him.

“Will I fit in?” you ask quietly, your eyes concentrating up onto the ceiling. “Will I be voted out?”

There was a prolonged silence, a bit too long for your own liking while serious doubts threaded into your pool of anxiety.

“You’ll fit in,” Shouto spoke, his words clear and confident. “I promised you’d be okay, didn’t I?”

Your head nods, although you are unsure whether or not he saw you doing so.

“So it’s always perfect in here? There isn’t… there isn’t any dangerous taoreta lurking around, is there?”

“No,” Shouto softly says, and you turn your head, your wet hair pressing onto your cheek while watching as he puts a journal down. “To both questions. We’re human, drama and issues always arise, but things always end up okay. UA is also on a mountain surrounded by woods, most taoreta don’t bother making their way up here, especially since we have traps up. But dangerous ones tend to appear during rainy days — especially during winter.”

“Why’s that?” you ask in a small, small voice. It was fall right now after all.

Shouto met your gaze, his eyes swimming with emotions you couldn’t read, but thoughts that screamed that he was unsure whether he should tell you. Was there a reason to make you worry right now?

“During the winter we don’t have any protection. We have Gladiolus flowers planted all around the mountain just to keep taoreta away, and while they die during the fall, they’re still not decayed entirely so… they’re still useful. We can only use Gladiolus oil on the barrier of UA during the winter, meaning that taoreta can climb the hill and find us if they’re lucky enough. But when it rains, the oils washed off, and with the Gladiolus all dead, we’re exposed.” he explains to you in earnest and you nod numbly, your heart already hammering away. 

You wished you had known that months ago…

“You okay?”

The tears in your eyes refused to stop falling down your face while horror consumed your bones. One year alone, countless nights spent in fear that someone would discover you while you were asleep, and hatred for the world burned in every cell of your body pouring over as bitter, useless tears while you gasped for air. 

“W-Will you… can you hold my hand?” you gasped, your body burning in your embarrassment and fear. “I can’t stop thinking that I’m… am I safe?”

You couldn’t see anything, the tears in your eyes blinding you completely. 

It had been such a hard, difficult, death-defying day and you were finally processing it all. 

A hand held onto yours mid muffled sob, and comfort washed over you slightly but not enough.

You would fall asleep shortly afterward, your body rattled with your hiccuping sobs, and your face puffy and swollen from your tears. Shouto could only stare at your slumbering form, the tension, and anxiety heavy on your face despite passing on to the land of dreams. With a soft ache in his heart for you, he turned off the light, his hand still in yours, his tatami mat pressed next to yours.

And as sleep consumed him too, his journal which was the most unique entry he’s written since his adolescence rang clearly in his head:

September 20, 2XX1

It’s been eight years since everyone died, and another day spent working. Today was different, something new happened today. I found a survivor who tried to kill me, her name is y/l/n y/n. I don’t know much about her, but she’s different. I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but I hope she’ll be happy.

Signed, Todoroki Shouto

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It was Momo’s birthday today. 

It was also the fourth day since you had entered the base, and with your entrance, things had become different around UA. During the first morning, people had hung on your every word, blatantly fascinated with you even if they were a bit apprehensive. The council also allowed you to stay, which had left you an emotional mess.

With you being new and injured, it was proclaimed that you could have a week to rest and adjust to the society found within the barriers of the old school. You were to be placed with the janitors the moment your allowed rest was over. You were given clothes, plates and utensils, and bathroom items, all of which you took with a watery smile.

As for your living situation, you were to stay with Shouto until he thought it was best that you left. It wasn’t something you were against at all — right now he was the only person you sincerely trusted and got along with. Shouto also did not mind, in fact he rather enjoyed having someone else fill the emptiness of his room.

Overall, it was going well, but the most important thing was happening today.

You would be put into a group of Shouto’s closest and best friends. 

He had briefly explained to you who they all were because you had asked the night before, your stomach twisting in thought that maybe they wouldn’t like you. 

But with Momo turning twenty, Shouto immediately warned you the type of party it was going to be. With the mass majority of their friends being seekers and therefore getting to claim first dibs on items, alcohol and weed were going to be used. 

So there you stood three hours into a pretty fun party, your nose twitching at the nasty but sweet smell of marijuana and the bittersweet smell of alcohol on all of their breaths. You stood by the group of girls watching as Momo bashfully chugged a bottle of wine with the dignity of an extremely classy person and not the trashiness that was actually true of this all.

Your hand waved in front of you, once again denying the joint that was being passed around and the bottle of liquor trying to be handed to you. Recovery Girl had appeared before you earlier today while you were exploring the campus only to warn you what would happen should you participate in these actions while healing still. To say the least you wouldn’t even tempt the idea.

“So how is Mr. Todoroki?” Mina asked, her arm slumping over your shoulder while she chugged her bottle of who knows what. “Didya know he was the only one no one could ever get to date!?”

Your brows furrowed while you continued to try to find Shouto yourself. He had sort of left you alone and your anxiety always bayed with him in sight. 

“We all dated around the circle of friends,” a girl with the palest skin you’ve ever seen before — Hagakure — explained. “The only one none of us could crack was Todoroki-kun, which lemme tell you seemed much more possible than Bakugou!”

You recognized and was able to put a face to the name Bakugou, but that information didn’t really surprise you. In your old group, it wasn’t that much different. There wasn’t anything to help you meet anyone, and so dating was something you did with everyone in your age group. But Shouto seemed very sweet, a genuinely good person that had you unbelieving of him never having dated.

“He’s still never had his first kiss!” Uraraka, a girl with a permanent blush on her face even without liquor in her blood, slurred with a wink. “Most girls just make him so nervous.”

Never… he’s never had his first kiss?! You took his first kiss?!

“Fucking shit!” you exclaimed, your hands pressing to your cheeks while you shook your head, your heart hammering away while you stepped away from the group of girls whose attention was captured by a frog impersonation by Tsuyu.

Shame and guilt sat heavy in your stomach and you walked away, the memory of you first meeting with Shouto replaying over and over in your head. You wanted to go sleep now, your heart hammering in your cheeks in past embarrassment for your actions. It had just been so long since you had seen a friendly face, and you had gotten overexcited. 

Shouto, who had been slowly sipping from his cup of sake, saw your retreating form and instantly downed the rest of his sweet liquor. He had been pleased you had gotten along with his group of friends, most especially the girls. Through the past four days he had tried to introduce you to them all so that this party wouldn’t overwhelm you, and seeing that you had managed to stay in a conversation with them without him being there seemed like a positive improvement to him. 

That is until you turned on your heel and walked away from the group, your eyes glass, and your steps quick. 

He followed you out of the gym which is where they had all been in, his hands shoving into his pockets while he waited for you to turn around. But it seemed that you were deep in thought because you didn’t even seem to detect his presence. So, he opened his mouth, his lips quirking upward in amusement. 

“Are you going back to the room?”

“Shit!” you jumped, your eyes wide and nearly crazed while you turned towards him, but a wave of regret his your face and Shouto knew you overexerted your injury. “Sorry, Shouto, I didn’t see… I didn’t hear you there.”

“Are you going back to the room?” he asked again, his head tilting in curiosity.

You nodded your head, your smile soft, “I was really tired, and I didn’t want to drag you away from your friend’s party. Don’t worry about me, you can stay, I’ll be fine!”

Shouto shook his head, moving so that he was standing right next to you, “It’s getting late and I’m seeking tomorrow. I have to rest, can’t do my job correctly while fighting a hangover.”

“It would really suck to know that you died on the job, I can’t imagine what I would do with all that space you would leave for me,” you tease, your smile small while he rolls his eyes. 

“We’ve known each other four days and you’re already trying to kill me off? That’s a bit cruel, isn’t it?” Shouto asks, his hand sticking out for you to hold on to should you want to, and you do without question. It was a habit the both of you had quickly formed within four days, but it wasn’t going to die anytime soon, not with the night terrors you had at least.

“It’s the perks of being my friend,” you insist, your head nodding in finality, and Shouto begins to walk. You follow him swiftly and surely, but the same thoughts that plagued your mind began to resurface in your temporary silence. “Was I your first kiss?”

Shouto looked down at you, his eyes unable to be read by you, but the slight perk in his mouth let you know that he was amused and not offended.

“Why do you want to know?”

You sigh, your thoughts falling onto the giggling group of girls before.

“Well, your friends said you were the only one who never…”

“Yes?”

“Never took their advances, and they all said they haven’t kissed you before!”

Shouto opens the door to the building, letting you in. “You were my first kiss.”

You shudder, the horror of a story that would be with him for the rest of his life. An injured lunatic laying one on him without a second thought. 

“Why was I your first kiss?” you ask, unsure as to why you were so curious about needing this information from Shouto.

“Because I never dated anyone before,” Shouto simply stated, his hands holding yours gently while you climbed the stairs that still winded you by the tenth flight. 

“But why?” you find yourself pestering for more, your thoughts unable to figure out why he wouldn’t. There was no denying that he was incredibly handsome, stupidly so — even you had to admit that from the first glance you had of him. The girls also saw that — it was very obvious, so what was missing?

He was silent for some time, and it was something that you had already grown used to. His pauses happened when he didn’t have a clear thought, and while it didn’t happen often, it was enough for you to have already picked up on. 

“During my school years I was more focused on other things,” Shouto confessed, pausing on a stair to allow you to gain your breath. “Something happened with my family and it took a lot of my time and energy away.”

While you knew that his family wasn’t in the picture anymore, you had no idea what had happened to them. You contemplated asking about it or not, your teeth tearing into your bottom lip while he stared down at you. The question was evident on your face though, most definitely screaming on top of your lungs despite you not uttering a single word.

“I’m not ready to talk about it yet, sorry,” Shouto confessed, and you nodded your head, you understood the feeling.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you about my story too, one day we’ll both be ready, right?” you asked, your feet already making its way up the staircase even before he did. 

Shouto smiled just the tiniest bit broken, and he nodded his head, continuing up the stairs after you with a sense of relief rushing through him 

“Of course.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Oh my god, it’s freezing.”

“I told you it was going to be cold, its November!”

You pressed the winter coat to your body even tighter, somehow you wanted the threads to become even closer than a second skin. 

It had been two months since you had managed to find yourself in the same area as Todoroki Shouto, and so far, not a single day went by where you regretted it. Hell, even the wounds on your body had become purpling scars and eventually disappeared altogether. In two months the two of you had become quick and strikingly close friends, the both of you naturally growing closer due to sharing and living in the same quarters.  

All in all the relationship sprouted between the two of you was genuine and different from other relationships in the base. 

While most of each other’s past was still relatively unknown, both of your abilities to open up about what had happened in the past faulty and fell flat more often than not. It was honestly weird just how unable you both were able to talk about your past: the mile-long stare in your eyes, the tears, the anxiety-ridden dreams. Shouto had no idea that he still screamed for his family at night before you moved in, and you had no doubt that you would wake up shrieking.

Of course, these terrors had subsided by a landslide the second you both decided to try something new out: holding hands at night had become sleeping side by side. It was definitely a weird new inclusion by both of your standards. Most mornings you woke up utterly tangled in each other’s limbs, the person who woke up first being the one in charge of detangling and denying that they had become that entangled. But hey, that’s sort of what happened when both he and you were desperately trying to deny the softly burning embers of a beginning relationship. 

But how could you begin to forget that you had been integrated into the Yuuei community very quickly, and nicely at that? After Momo’s birthday, you managed to earn a spot in the girl group, most meals having them coming to find you and sit with you. That was something you appreciated especially on the days that Shouto wasn’t on base.  Even the guys who had once been wary of you entering their car had accepted you wholeheartedly. Although you hated being a janitor, you had to admit it was the only job you were capable of handling at the time. 

You weren’t handy with machines to be an engineer, the only first aid you knew wasn’t even good enough to land you as medical assistance, your education wasn’t anywhere near as thorough as the one implemented here, and your cooking skills were subpar. In all actuality, you longed to be a seeker, but the outdoors were still something you weren’t ready for. 

Shouto and you had learned that old habits died hard, and well, until you were ready to be a team player and no longer thought about your survival and your survival only, you would remain in your janitor position.

But you found yourself climbing onto the rooftop floor with Shouto for one reason and one reason only. 

Despite his lavish education growing up, he had stupidly asked you what the hell a constellation was.

While you hadn’t known that there was a difference between a meteoroid and an asteroid, you were pleasantly surprised and leagues excited at finally being an expert on something that he wasn’t. Stars and constellations had been your only guides and stories for quite a while after all. 

But with Shouto’s judgmental eyes on you, and the shifting of your weight to keep warm, you tilted your head back to look up at the painted night sky. 

“Not all of us are abnormally super-weirdo hot all the time,” you accused, the fur lining of the jacket pressing onto your cold lips. The jacket had been a gift from Shouto, a clothing item that had somehow survived being eaten by moths that he had presented to you on your first month anniversary of being on UA.

“That just sounds like you’re jealous,” Shouto countered, his body moving to stand next to yours. He was in a light sweater and regular clothes, you had no idea how he wasn’t cold at this point. But you chose to ignore it, your lips pouting while the both of you sank to the ground, the soft blanket beneath you doing little to cushion your head against the concrete roof. “So… which constellations are in the sky right now?”

“Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Cepheus, Cetus, Hydrus, Phoenix, Pisces, Sculptor, and Tucana,” you listed without a hitch, the names meaning nothing to Shouto but didn’t stop the impressed look on his face. 

“Do they had stories behind them?” he asked, his warm breath misting in the air while you adjusted closer to his left side, your frozen hand held tightly by his warm one. He shifted his gaze back down to you, his eyes focused on your wandering ones that drank in the beautiful night sky. 

“Only the best stories,” you grinned, your attention shifting over to Shouto while a glint sparked in your eye. “They’re a bit western and a lot of years old if you want to hear them?”

Shouto nodded his head. There wasn’t anything more than he would like to do except be by your side and just listen to you talk and talk, especially if that meant you would forget what you were saying or your instructional material would become a sidetracked rant that he would listen to with clear fascination and teasing intrigue. 

“Okay, I guess I’ll start with Andromeda!” you nodded your head, your finger thrusting towards the masses of stars that Shouto had no ability to piece together to become the young woman who was sacrificed to the Cetus. 

Still, he pretended he could see the constellation because you wouldn’t begin any tale without making sure he could point them out. But there was no denying that he was baffled and in love with every part of your stories. It really wasn’t the fact that the stories were interesting to him, as a matter of fact, Shouto was rather bored with the dramatic Greecian tales for the constellations in the sky, but it was you that made it interesting. 

Even with your hand in his, your arms threw around animatedly as part of your dramatic reenactment of these tales and myths. Your passions being felt without mistake while you taught Shouto about the night sky. 

No matter how passionate you were about teaching Shouto about the constellations, the cold won out, in the end, sending the both of you back into the room before you could explain the story you knew about Tucana. 

“Did you learn anything new tonight?” you asked, your body curled up into the blankets of your tatami, waiting for Shouto to finish his journal to come and provide you extra warmth.

“I guess I did,” Shouto confirmed, his head nodding while he continued to scribble down his thoughts. But there was something to his tone that you found suspicious, your eyebrows narrowing when you saw the slight crease in his cheeks from the smile on his face. 

“Why you smiling like that for!” you whine, your cocooned legs thrashing in your childish tantrum. “Was there something on my face the entire time?”

“There was something on your face the entire time, but it wasn’t anything embarrassing,” Shouto promised, his hands gathering his journal, light, and pencil and putting them aside before coming to lay beside you, his body pressed behind yours, his warmth already sinking through your blankets.

“That’s what you said when I had a sticker on my forehead for an entire day,” you pout, your eyes already feeling heavy with his warmth pressed against you.  

“You were cute,” he admitted, his voice that was heavy with exhaustion tickling the exposed skin of your neck. He closed his eyes, allowing for sleep to consume him while he uttered his last words of the day. “I don’t care for stars and such… but if you’re gonna do stuff like that… who knows, maybe I’ll grow to love them.”

His words sank a hot stone in your stomach, and the goosebumps and butterflies that raised against your entire body refused to subside until you finally managed to fall asleep yourself, one final thought passing through your swollen bitten lips. “You can’t just stuff like that and expect me to not have feelings...”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

March was the first month of spring, and while you had survived a full winter without a taoreta attack at UA there was no denying that you felt like you had gotten away easy. The uneasy feeling in your stomach was heightened today before Shouto had left for his typical job as a seeker. You had barely managed to wake up that morning to see him off, but the moment he had left, you were unable to stay asleep, a pit of worry growing cancerously in your stomach.

You spent the rest of your morning tidying up the room, cleaning and organizing the “chaos” of the room because there wasn’t anything better you could do until on your day off. 

As a matter of fact, you went on to join Mina at her checkout position today. The pink-skinned girl had recently begun to wear a horned headband which really pulled together the taoreta vibe she already gave off, but she was nice to distract yourself with while a haunted feeling gloomed over you the entire day. She had talked through your fear, pinning your anxiety on your recently admitted to affections towards Shouto and noot wanting him to be injured while on his job. You had agreed it was most likely that but even as the day continued you couldn’t tear your gaze from the entrance. 

But as Mina was cleaning off a weapon that had been used yesterday she froze.

You looked up at her, your eyes studying the way that her hand pressed into the radio that was placed in her ear, relaying a message you only wished you could hear.

“How far away?!” Mina yelled into the system, her body moving to grab another radio set. “How many were hurt?!”

Just like that, a nausea heavy anxiety rocketed through your body, your limbs trembling while Mina seemed to keep her own panic under control.

“Medics,” MIna yelled into the com system, her voice projecting all over the school grounds. “Come in medics, this is Mina. Report to the main gates immediately. We have an incoming group of four hurt seekers from a taoreta attack. I repeat we have an incoming group of four hurt seekers. Three are minimal, one is critical. Ready blood type O immediately.”

Your skin crawled at that information, Shouto was the only one with blood type O going out today.

He wasn’t the critically hurt one, you thought, watching as a crowd of medics rushed to the gate, no doubt readying to take the critical patient to Recovery Girl the moment the car crashed through campus. But as the car you knew as the same one that brought you here slammed to a stop by the entrance, nausea hit you when you saw that it was Kirishima and Iida who were driving.

Three slightly bleeding friends of yours were pulled from the truck and you felt the world go silent when none of them were Shouto. The screams and shouts of medical instructions went unheard by you when you saw Shouto’s bloody, torn up body being transported onto a gurney, a bloodline immediately hooked as they ran away.

You couldn’t hear anything or see anything but the sunken dip in Shouto’s cheeks.

Was he going to live?

You weren’t even aware of your own hyperventilation until Mina shoved you onto the floor, her golden-yellow eyes wide with worry and distress for you, but her words remained deaf on your ears, unable to pierce the stress ringing in your ears.

Was he going to leave you too?

~

Shouto’s eyelids felt heavier than lead when he finally woke up.

The bright white light of the hospital room almost blinding him while he groaned. What had happened?

A fuzzy memory of running into a taoreta with savage storm powers replayed in his head. He had almost sacrificed himself to save the group, the damn monster had the strength of Hercules and slashing wind that he cut Shouto up on numerous occasions. He had sworn he had gone under multiple times, but each time it felt like there was something stopping him, keeping him from leaving.

He wouldn’t have minded leaving, there wasn’t much here, to begin with. At least not after the demise of his entire family. 

“So you’re finally away, Todoroki,” a gentle withered voice intercepted his thoughts, and Shouto turned his head with a pained grimace to see Recovery Girl checking his vitals. “I’m glad to see that you’re conscious of whats going on. You’ve woken up multiple times already but would seize before passing out.”

“Am I... am I alive?” Shouto asked, his tongue feeling like sandpaper in his mouth.

A folder of papers crashed against his already throbbing head, and Shouto cursed while Recovery Girl fumed. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m kicking the bucket any time soon!”

Despite the pain, Shouto smiled softly, his head nodding in understanding.

“Besides, if you died I would have personally prayed for your soul because it looked like y/n-chan would have appeared on death’s door herself to bring you back,” she mused, her gloved finger pointing at your passed out figure on the other side of the bed. 

Shouto’s eyes widened at the sight of you, something warm curling in his stomach seeing you there. But he frowned at the way your face was exhausted and thinner from the last time he had seen you.

“How long was I—?”

“A bit longer than two weeks.”

Holy shit that was a long time.

“We almost lost you a few times, but for some reason you always did better when she was holding your hand… it’s weird, but it worked — saved your life even. You owe that girl a big thank you, she’s done a lot.”

Shouto nodded numbly, his mind moving faster than he cared for while Recovery Girl finished her tendings to him before eventually leaving him alone. He had done better when you held his hand…

He looked down at his wrapped arms, now beyond grateful that they had been stockpiled on medical supplies because had they not they would have most likely decided saving him was a waste of resources. His hand moved to rest on your propped elbow, but the moment he touched your skin, your head popped up.

Shouto stared at you, and you stared back.

Bloodshot exhausted eyes meeting sullen ones, and Shouto barely had time to smile before tears sprung into your eyes.

“You almost died,” came a bitter hello, and it shocked Shouto. He hadn’t expected such a cold greeting from you. “Y-You promised you wouldn’t get hurt on these expeditions.”

You knew promises like that one were childish — it was a promise that couldn’t be kept in this society, but it was one he had still made to me.

“I promised I wouldn’t die,” Shouto countered, his hands pulling to rest on his lap, knowing that having contact with you was probably what wasn’t needed at the moment. “I didn’t, by the way.”

“You died three times while they were saving you!” you spat, angry heavy tears rolling down your cheeks. “You died and all I could do was watch! You l-lied!”

Shouto wasn’t sure how to react, on one hand he wanted to snap back at you, his own frustrations at you just not being happy to see him awake and functional made him upset because he was beyond relieved to see you here, but on the other hand, he wondered why you were so shaken at this “lie.”

“Why does it matter if I lied?” Shouto whispered, his attempt to keep his voice from showing any signs of anger passing. “It wasn’t something I did out of self-sacrifice, but because it’s what the group needed.”

You remained silent, your nostrils flaring with your uncovered emotions and thoughts, but Shouto wanted to know your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings. Despite the lengths the both of you had made in understanding each other, there was still so much hidden from both of your pasts, the thought of hurting so much more when being honest about them prohibiting the both of you from sharing.

“Y/n… come one, speak to me…”

“My parents said the exact same thing before they died,” you spoke with emotions tight in your throat. Your tongue passed your lips in an anxious matter, and you shook your head. “My group was murdered by taoreta a year before you met me. I had been sick at the time… the flu had gotten to me, so I was always left alone at our base while they all went out hunting. It was my family and twenty others… I had… I had a bad feeling the morning they died, but no one believed me because I was sick. I made them promise they’d come back alive, and they did! But while they always returned a bit after dusk, no one ever showed up.” Shouto’s stomach curled, already guessing the rest of your story, but there was no need to guess, you were finishing the tale that still haunted your life. “The next morning I was essentially fine, so I packed up my things and went to search for them. My group always left a rock trail to get back… I was going to follow the trail to find them. And I did find them… but… they were all dead. I saw my mom's torso here, my dad's head there. I couldn’t even recognize anyone's bodies, but the smell… I still smell it at night sometimes… rotting flesh and the whimpers of one of my friends who was still dying when I got there!”

The tears on your cheeks rolled down unashamedly, but your body shook with emotions, your breathing shallow and sparse, most definitely not intaking the needed amount of oxygen you needed. But with this insight, so many things made sense to Shouto. Weird personality traits of yours for the first time having reason for their rhyme. 

“I don’t want to be told you’ll be okay and find you dead one day… you were dead and I thought… it felt like I was back there again! I haven’t been there since January and… god, Shouto, I can’t have you dying like that!”

His heart hurt for you, and his eyes found yours again.

“I lost my family eight years ago,” Shouto confessed, his hand stretching out for you to take, and he relaxed when you accepted his offer. “My father and oldest brother had found a group of survivors who were harboring a taoreta who was only twenty-four at the time. We didn’t know they were a taoreta, and we didn’t know that they were turning twenty-five the next day. My family brought them back to base and took them into our room because we had the largest one. I was with… I was with Midoriya, Bakugou, and Kirishima that day, the four of us had decided that we were going to camp out on the track… I didn’t get to even say goodbye to anyone. The next morning there was an explosion in the cafeteria and my family along with the surviving group and taoreta had been killed. It was… horrible… and even though it was years ago, I still feel like it was yesterday. It could have been me there with them — and I felt… I felt like for the longest time that I should have died with them…”

“Shouto,” you whispered, your tears no longer angry but so sad for the man you had fallen for. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

Shouto smiled painfully, his shoulders shrugging while he exhaled, tears trailing down his face while a weird sense of relief washed over him. “It’s okay. It’s hard and all, but it’s comforting to know that I wasn’t the only one fucked over by a taoreta.”

Your eyes softened and a snort left your nose while you shook your head, “I think we’ve all been fucked over by them, wouldn’t you agree?”

There was an agreeing noise that passed Shouto’s lips that died as quickly as it had started when your lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, not quite a kiss, but close enough to a kiss that had skyrocketed his heart rate.

“I’m glad you’re still alive though, Shouto,” you whisper, pulling away from him, your lips forever imprinted onto his skin. “I don’t think I would be able to live in that big old room all by myself.”

Shouto cleared his throat, his eyes glinting everso mischievously, “I definitely would had stuck around to haunt you.”

He wouldn’t confess to it at this moment, but his heart definitely skipped a beat at the sight of your glowing smile, and the laugh that escaped your lips.

“I’m sure you would’ve.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It was raining.

The chaos of the outside world had once again found its way into Yuuei’s safezone, and everything was going to shit. You had woken up to the sound of rain, your body curled onto Shouto’s and your mind not thinking much of the pittering rain that fell from the sky. You were content in his warm embrace, just grateful to have more time with the sleeping man. It had taken him five months to fully recover from his attack, and he had just recently resumed his job as a seeker two months ago. 

Right now it was December, it had been past a full year since your arrival here, and you definitely were content here.

Your relationship with Shouto has definitely become… muddied in the past few months. Kisses had been exchanged on multiple occasions, the both of you practically acting like a couple despite not having coined your relationship. Despite the both of you coming clean with your past, there was still hesitation to make things official, with both of you not wanting to hear that either one of you had died (you had become a seeker during his time of recovery just so you could get him more shower times, plus you missed scavenging in the outdoors). Secret kisses were exchanged between you like blackmarket deals, but still the hesitant riding heavy in both your bones prevented anything from happening.

But that was okay for now, as long as you were the only one Todoroki Shouto was kissing, you were okay with that. Burying your nose into his chest, you allowed for sleep to consume you into its clutches. Today was both your days off after all.

Seconds before sleep could reclaim you, a long three part bell was heard that instantly had both you and Shouto rocketing upward. A long bell was a part of the warning system, and each part meant something.

One long ring was a storm.

Two long rings was a group of survivors.

Three long rings was a taoreta.

Both you and Shouto scurried to your feet, throwing on the first set of clothes you could find, and desperately putting on your shoes while your heart hammered. You hadn’t fought a taoreta since the year before, and with the explosion outside you could only begin to imagine what this was going to mean for you all. 

“Y/n!” Shouto called for you while you pulled on your jacket. You looked at him, your hands mid-pulling your hair out of your face. “Come back alive.”

You didn’t say anything, his clothes and shoes already on; ready to go out and fight. But in a kiss akin to that of your first one, he pressed his lips against yours in a heated, fervor passion. An action that spoke of desperation between two lovers who longed to see the next day, and you heard it loud and clear.

Survive.

It was an order, it was a promise.

He left before you, and you soon followed after. The weight of the future falling heavily on your shoulders, but a personal fury to survive pushing you through.

It was a long and a hard battle. 

The taoreta had blade wings and mowed down everything in its path. Bodies littered the floor around you, your body in pain and sore while the taoreta lay twitching on the roof of one of the pillars of the campus building. In what was considered to be a lucky shot, you had managed to pierce a major artery of the taoreta with a gun you had taken from a fallen member and he was now bleeding out.

There were multiple cuts all over your body, the slices from the knives doing nothing but harm to your body while you collapsed on the roof, your breathing heavy and your body exhausted underneath the pittering rain. You overlooked the tower, down at the people below and gave a thumbs up, signaling he was dead.

A silent scream of victory came from the surviving members of Yuuei, no one able to actual muster a sound of victory because defeat still stung with every bleeding cut on their bodies. But this wasn’t your job anymore, a successive three short rings alerted the medics that it was their turn to work, and you hobbled down from the roof back to your room.

Your hair was plastered to your face, bloodied water dripping after you while you returned to the room, and you stood at the door unable to walk in until you saw Shouto.

It felt like you were standing there forever, your eyes focusing on the stairway in hopes of seeing the red and white haired boy emerge from a lower floor to you. And finally, finally he appeared. 

There was a cut on his face, a bandaid on his chest, and you realized that he had been treated before coming up. He stared at you from the distance, both your bodies frozen with adrenaline induced joy.

But it was over just as fast, Shouto ran towards you, and there was nothing for you to do except leap into his arms, and press your lips against his. Shouto’s words of gratitude for seeing you alive were stolen from his tongue for you had reached upward in this desperate, frantic glee and kissed him firmly on the lips. His tongue curled and moved against yours, his hands moving frantically against your back in this desperate, longing kiss that exploded fire onto his cheeks and loins. But unlike the first kiss ever exchanged between the two of you he was able to move. He was able to feel the wet streaks from your cheeks pressed onto his, focusing on the heavy frantic breathing that passed through your nose while he entered the room, the door slamming closed behind him.

His lips are passionate against yours, your jaw drops and your mind spins from the intensity he was returning into the kiss. Your gasping moans stir him on as his hands grasp your ass without fear, your body melting into his grasp while he continues to strive ahead, and your hips in their glee of both being alive and knowing what is happening ground against his crotch. Your breathing is uneven, your feelings and nerves overload as you put in the same amount of intensive passion into the kiss.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, allowing for your tongue to invade into his mouth while your hands manage to pull his shirt from his body, throwing it who knows where. 

A low mewl escapes your mouth when your fingers trail down his rippling muscles, the curves of his muscles and the scars on his body making you shake with anticipation. While you busied yourself with memorizing his body with your hands, his hands trail down your legs, softly trailing the underside of your thighs. The sensation of his hot fingers against the wet jeans sent shivers down your spine as your hips swivel against his, a desperate attempt to feel more from him. You hummed in increasing excitement when he cursed your name, the growing bulge in his pants making you sing to the heavens.

Tongues once more crash in the middle, neither one of you entirely dominating the other in this passionate affair. Moans escape your mouth as he lowers to the ground, pressing your back against the tatami. Your fingers fisted into his hair, his hips grinding down into your heated, desperate core. Synchronized groans are exchanged in this slowly maddening exchange, his body very receptive to the hair-pulling.

His hands trailed down onto the swell of your breasts, squeezing firmly around your soft and tender flesh, and you arch into his hands. His tongue furthers into your mouth in your brief distraction, and he trails his tongue everywhere in your mouth, letting nothing go untouched until you were unable to do anything but expel hot, passionate breaths with just the slightest bit of a whine. Your increasingly satisfied moans make him chuckle. You watch with heavy lids as he pulls away, his face deliriously close to your own as you pant.

From this distance, you can see the fire burning in his eyes. A sight that makes you shiver with growing need, but the thought disappears when his mouth attaches onto your neck. His canines sink deeply into your skin catching you entirely off guard in this desperate claim, but you rewarded his actions by screaming his name, the feeling of his hot tongue soothing the burning flesh too sweet and wanton. It’s a new sensation and one that you rather liked seeing that your hips buck up against his; your body craving more friction.

His canines continue tracing against your skin, biting and marking you more and more with the increased vocal praises pouring from your lips. You wanted more, you needed more.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp while Shouto hastily removes your wet clothes from your overheating body, the cold air hitting you, but goes ignored because he presses back down against you, his mouth recapturing yours, and your nipples pebbling with his chest against yours.

The two of you are lost in the kiss, your lips pressing and pulling against the other in a desperate act, your fingers burying crescents into his skin all while your clothes still continue to be stripped from both of your bodies until theres nothing between you but a flimsy set of underwear.

Your nostrils flare as you pull away, a need for air too much for you to continue your kissing endeavors, but as he now remains in just his boxers, your breathing nearly stops while you take in his form to the maximum.

You really were fucking lucky…

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teases you, and he captures your lips with his own again.

You gasp sharply at the feeling of his heated toned body pressing against your cold yet flushed skin. Your hands sliding down his muscular back were intoxicated with the way his body felt, an overwhelming need to get more from him was undeniable.

“I don’t need a picture of something that I can have every day,” you shudder as his fingers graze the pool of heat in your panties.

“Oh really? Everyday?”

“You think I — oh shit — you think I can’t?!”

You watch as he chuckles against your skin, his fingers trailing over the curves of your breast and into the valley between them before rutting his cock against the place you needed him most right now. “So you just want me for my dick? Nothing else?” he asks you, his cock rubbing against your panties applying a dizzying pressure against your pooling heat.

“I want you, all of you,” you confess, unable to even kid around with the need between your legs being as strong as it was while your hips pathetically grind into his fingers. He chuckles as he pushes your thighs up, and pulls the fabric of your panties to the side, his finger teasing your building heat.

“Such decisive words from a girl who just wanted to kiss me with no relationship in mind,” he mutters sinking two fingers into your unsuspecting heat.

The helpless and needy scream that pours from your mouth interrupts your denial makes him laugh.

“Tell me, y/n,” he says as his fingers slowly pump within you.

Slowly.

Teasingly.

“Do you want my dick in you?”

Your harsh pants keep you from speaking as Shouto increases his speed. His fingers curling within your walls stretching you out in a thigh shaking way. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re vastly affected by his intruding fingers, your body violently trembling with his curled appendages, your mind unable to form sentences because god how was he doing that with his fingers?!

“Yes, fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, oh my god Shouto!” you shriek as your hips slam against his fingers with every crashing movement.

“How about dating me? You think you’ll finally let me be your boyfriend?” he muses as his teeth come to bite against your exposed nipples, relishing in the way your head nods pathetically, so desperate for him to do moore. The neverending noises of approval expelling from your mouth only grow when his tongue flicks your nipple. Your fingers digging into his shoulders in wild approval. “Are you going to try and find someone else?”

“No! I just want you, Shouto! P-Please fuck me!” you beg as you try squirming away from his fingers. Your fingers scratching their way down his back, leaving bleeding marks on him in attempt to get him to do more to you. You watch in growing glee and excitement as he slips off your underwear, and his cock spreads completely against your dripping cunt.

A satisfied and slightly horrified moan escapes your mouth at the sight of him carding his cock between your folds. His fingers remove from your sopping wet cunt as he licks you clean from his fingers. “Maybe I’ll have some dessert later,” he wickedly grins as he slowly fists himself. “Now lay back and legs out.”

He accentuates every word, and you feel yourself heeding his command. Your hands quickly gather your thighs in your hand, and you stretch backward as you watch him draw near your spread legs. The tip of his hard cock teasing your entrance.

“Fuck me already!” you whine as he continues to only coat his cock with your juices, uncaring of both of your throbbing sexes.

He looks up at you, a smirk on his face as he shrugs.

“Sure.”

A shriek crashes through your mouth as he pushes his cock completely into your awaiting cunt without mercy. His girth stretching you out in an unimaginable way. Stretching you out in ways you were not prepared for, your back arching off the mat in your silent scream. Your walls rippled as they attempted to relax and grow used to his size. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cry, absurdly unprepared for his cock in you as your body trembles as Shouto leans forward.

His own head is buried within your neck, his breathing trying to reign back in.

“Shit, princess,” Shouto cockily rasps, but his words feel powerless as he is obviously affected by the tightness of you around him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

You mewl as the painful throb in your pussy lulls and you writhe your hips against him, “Please do something, fuck me right. Please fuck me.”

Shouto smirks, small and knowing, and rightfully so as he adheres to your demand. His hips position to a better angle, his hand pressing against your thighs and you can only watch with your face buried into his neck he begins slamming into you. Your hips move in time with his. 

Both of you desperate under your nearing orgasms and this heightened state of pleasure brought by the desperation of this fuck. You had both survived the attack, something that the both of you had been so scared of eventually happening given your records, but you had lived. You had lived and became insanely horny at the first sight of Shouto. 

His hands gripped your hands while he pounded into you. His grip nearly cracks your hands as he slams his body faster against yours, stretching you out with every move, and by god does he know how to use his cock that dragged against your spongey puffy walls. His hands shift as they drag out under your ass, clenching your supple flesh as this difference stretches you out in unimaginable ways.

His hips crashing into yours is mind jolting, and your cries only fuel him on.

Your body feels as if it is turning into jelly as he shifts your two legs over his shoulders. His cock bottoming out into you making your back arch off the mattress as you wail out his name. Shouto’s heated fingers press against your throbbing clit. You suppress a wail as he rubs harsh and delicate figure-eights onto your puffy nerve. Your pussy is clamping down on his hammering cock, not at all slowing him down, and yet he still grunts and increases his speed and strength.

Your noises of pleasure silences as his cock hits the back of your walls, your legs thrashing around as he drilled into you the same way.

Over and over.

Again and again.

Harder and harder.

His cock smashing against your walls until he tilts his angle and crashes down hard against your g-spot.

“Shouto!!!” you scream as he continues pounding into your g-spot. His alias a prayer on your lips as he continues fucking your brains out.

You shoot up off the mattress, your screams muffled through a kiss as you wrap your arms around him. Even though your legs were on his shoulder, you held on. The angle allows Shouto to drive his cock against your g-spot over and over again. Your body bouncing with every single slam. His body is giving you exploding sensations, your tightness making Shouto moan and curse.

“I needa – fuuuuck, baby do that again – I needa come!” you squeak as your body rocks against his own.

“Come for me, princess.” Shouto sighs into your mouth. “Come around my cock.”

The built-up pleasure in your belly is profuse, it’s built up so fast, and your toes curl in electrifying pleasure. You can’t handle it anymore, the pleasure being too much.

Your orgasm slams through you, your vision nearly turning white as your jaw drops as your screams go silent. Shouto’s mouth continues to move against yours, kissing sloppily against your teeth as he chases his own orgasm. His teeth digging into your bottom lip as his jaw slacks.

His hips continue slamming into you. They’re brutal as they slam over and over again. He’s chanting your name as your stimulated cunt continues clenching around his length. His pace is making you grow numb in his arms, although your hips still continue to desperately roll against his. His breathing is heavy and tense. Panting as he struggles to keep himself composed.

“Come inside me…” You whine into his ear, desperate to feel his hot seed within you. “B-Breed me like the bitch I am, sir!” Your cry, wanting nothing more than his cock to bury all nine inches in you.

“Come for me one more time, and I’ll make sure to fill you until you’re dripping with my semen for an entire week,” Shouto promises, and his hips slam within you.

Your knees are buried within the mattress by your head, your feet curling and pressing against each other.  Shouto lays on top of you, the penetration deep, and his hands gripping yours. The weight of having him on you is exhilarating, and for the first time this night, his lips press hungrily against yours while deep within you.

His cock slams against the wall of your cervix repetitively while his lips overwhelm you. Each slam into you is massive and powerful. Powerful enough to have you sobbing into his mouth while he kisses you, his hands clutching your smaller ones in his.

Again and again, he slams into you. His thrusts knock the wind out of you until you release his hands and find yourself digging your fingers into his back, crying out his name desperately while his teeth find a home on your neck, sinking into flesh he had long ago broke. The powerful pounding of his cock makes you keen, your hips jerking up to meet his, but you’re useless against his downward thrusts.

“Impregnate me, sir,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, “breed me! Please fill me up!”

“You’ll be full of my fucking kids in no time,” he snaps, his cock throbbing within your pussy, and loud echoing slaps fill the room. Your nails claw into his back, marking him in multiple places with clean four bloody red lines.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved perfectly within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises reasonably similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, princess?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh. “You like the way my cock fills your pussy the same way it did that pretty little ass?” You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. Your sanity was lying on a string, his actions the reasons for your downfall.

His leverage was small, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. Before he drilled back into your pussy. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot throbbing cock. The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically under your fingernails, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“You like the way I fuck your pussy? The way that Imma fill you with my seed for days to come?” he growls into your ear, his hips slamming inhumanly faster into you.

“I need you to breed me,” you sob, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have noticed the clamping of your inner walls as he continues drilling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You sob against his mouth, your nails tearing into his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he only continues to fuck you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

“Cum, sir,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Please, fill me with your seed!”

His cock stretches you out in a new way as he presses your back onto the mattress again. The protruding veins on his cock creating insane friction against your walls. Shouto fucks you mercilessly, his fingers clenching your ass as you come apart for him. Shouto curses loudly as he finally loses himself within you. His hips drilling forward one last time as a heavy load shoots into your throbbing cunt.

Shaky breathing fills the air as he pulls out of you.

You whine at the lack of him within you, and your body relaxes as he falls beside you. You whimper as you feel your combine cum seeping from your clenching pussy.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, his hand moving to find yours again, and you can’t say anything but nod in agreement.

“Holy shit is right,” you chuckle and his snort makes you warm inside.

“So… we’re dating now, right?” you ask softly, moving to look at Shouto’s closed eyes.

“We’re about five months late on that, but yes, yes we are.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader

[thetorchwoodarchive]

[Image Description: a banner for the Across the Bay Crossover Fics You Didn’t See Coming fest, featuring beach signs on a tropical island, reading “Cardiff by the Sea”, the name of the fest, “authors”, “torchwood” (partially obscured), and “one shots” (partially obscured), and a warning sign where Myfanwy chases a swimmer]

ACROSS THE BAY: CROSSOVER FICS YOU DIDN’T SEE COMING MASTERPOST

Thank you everyone for submitting your crossover and fusion fic  recommendations. Below are all submissions and some of our favorites! 

Is it Insensitive for Me to Say by aliciajazmin (EstherJohnTosh | complete | 2441 | T)

Toshiko Sato and Esther Drummond absolutely will make fun of their boyfriend for deciding to attend an audition, while also attending said audition with him. 

Crossover With: The Outer Worlds 

Golden Apples and Norse Gods (Or How Ianto Got His Groove Back) by blackkat (JackIanto | complete | 1592 | G)

Ianto finds himself back from the dead and, apparently, in the position to double-cross a power-crazed Norse god intent on conquering the Earth by taking out a team of superheroes. Must be a Tuesday.

Crossover With: Avengers/MCU

The Magic of Torchwood by Bella the Strange (JackIanto, IantoJohn, JackOther, Non-Torchwood Ships | wip |  546,512 | T)

The Torchwood team have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Set between Adam and Reset. Rated T because of Jack Harkness, swearing, mature themes, slash etc… it’s Torchwood!

Crossover With: Harry Potter

Welcome to Torchwood by Jackdaw818 (Gen | complete | 1601 | T)

A strange creature behind the Ralphs, a break-in at the Museum of Forbidden Technologies, and visitors in Night Vale. Overall, a slightly unordinary day for Cecil Gershwin Palmer

Crossover With: Welcome to Night Vale

Torchwait for iiiiit by lady-demacabre (Gen | complete | 3k | K+)

When Shawn and Gus are called in on a case for an eccentric collector of alien objects, they get more than what they bargained for. One shot, Psych oriented.

Crossover With: Psych

Theme and Variations by nemo_baker (JackIanto, GwenRhys, OwenKatie | 5817 | T)

Time Agent Jack Harkness is sent back in time to solve the mystery of a mysterious train bombing. The problem is, he only has eight minutes to do it.

Written for Reel Torchwood screening 8 on Livejournal. Movie Prompt: Source Code (2011)

Crossover With: Source Code 

Day Tripper by Croquemboucheballpit (Gement) (JackBessie the Third Doctor’s Car, Bessie the Third Doctor’s CarLightening McQueen (past) | complete | 2360 | M)

Bessie’s like any other companion: far from home, more than she appears, and always up for an adventure.

And Jack Harkness really will seduce anything that moves.

Crossover With: Pixar’s Cars 

An American Volunteer by That_one_kid (SteveBucky, BuckyJackSteve | Complete | 4395 | T)

What if Captain Jack Harkness met Steve & Bucky during the war? What if he ran into them again, present day?

AKA

Captain Jack Harkness and his mission to seduce the two gorgeous, capable soldiers who keep running into him.

Crossover With: Captain America/MCU

Statement #0041708 - Future Sight by Jackdaw816 (Gen | complete | 1690 | T)

Statement of Lisa Hallett regarding a peculiar mirror found at a car boot sale

Crossover With: The Magnus Archives

(Un)Welcome Aboard by Jaune_Chat (Jack | Complete | 4,154 | T)

To make ends meet, Mal listens to a suggestion from Inara than he rent out the other shuttle. She has the perfect candidate, a charming Companion named Jack…

Crossover With: Firefly 

Death and the Definitely-Not-A Maiden by Odsbodkins (JackIanto | Complete | 3,6K | PG-13)

When Jack dies, Death is there to meet him. Every time. Written in 2008 for the Doctor Who Crossover Ficathon. Takes in Torchwood to end S2, Doctor Who to end S3, Discworld to Soul Music.

Crossover With: Discworld 

Remarkable by snowwhiteliar ( JackIanto, IantoLisa | Complete | 20.971 | PG-13)

Summary: Once upon a time, in a small village in a distant province of a peaceful kingdom, there lived a boy called Ianto

Crossover With: Fairy Tales 

Got That Friday Feeling Again by NancyBrown (OwenOther, JackIanto, GwenRhys, GwenOwen | Complete | 18.3K | R)

HELP HELP HELP HELP

I AM TRAPPED IN A TIME BUBBLE

The magic marker all over the nice chintz wallpaper bled and smeared as Owen wrote in increasingly desperate lettering across the walls. Ls and Ps dragged down, wiggly at the end or drawn out in slashed strokes.

He ignored the pounding on the door frame. He’d shoved the wardrobe in front, which always kept Jack out for twenty three and a half minutes. He ignored the sweat and tears and snot dripping down his face, down his mouth. He ignored the high-pitched singing from his own throat, “If you want my future, forget my past,” chanted over and over.

HELP

Crossover With: Groundhog Day

Back, and Back, and Back a Little More (Future Optional) (JackIanto, JennyVastra | Complete |  32591 | M)

Accidentally shot into the past by a time-travelling car, Ianto has to fix his own mistakes or he won't have a future to go back to.

Crossover With: Back to the Future 

Truth, Justice by NancyBrown (SupermanOwen | complete | 414 | M)

The green shit does not work. Warnings: dubcon (AMTDI)

Crossover With: Justice League Unlimited/DCAU/Superman 

Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodies, or, A Humourous Interlude Between Epics by  copperbadge (Gen | complete | 749 | T)

Ianto neglected to introduce himself as he informed the senior staff that Atlantis was now under the jurisdiction of Torchwood, whatever Torchwood is.

Crossover With: Stargate Atlantis 

Never Have I Ever by  st_aurafina (JackIanto, JackDoctor (past/implied), PepperTony (implied) | complete | 1714 | T)

Written for the prompt Ianto, Donna and Pepper end up at a secretaries'/assistants' conference and have a conversation about their bosses.

Crossover With: Ironman/MCU

Beware the Sparkles by elisi (JackIanto, JackEdwardBella | complete | 4793 | T)

It's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after. Oh and Jack has sex with sparkly vampires.

Crossover With: Twilight 

The Death Note Discovery by KaibaGirl007 (JackIanto | complete | 18,992 | T)

“You’ve clearly just got a notebook belonging to some geek, a rather sick geek I’ll give you that, who likes to keep note of people’s deaths.” - Will the team resist the urge to use the Death Note or will one of them give into temptation? 

Crossover With: Death Note 

A Confluence of Personalities by  galaxysoup (JackIanto | complete | 4839 | T)

Conner Kent’s body might be dead, but his soul has apparently decided to take the scenic route.

Crossover With: DC Comics/Young Justice Comics 

Imposters Among Us by  gwendolyncooper (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 9117 | M)

The Torchwood team (+Rhys) are out for a night of fun when they end up on a spaceship with no power, no info, and no crew. Known only as THE SKELD, the team tries to fix the ship and figure out what happened to its previous occupants.

But something out there is killing them.

Something that may be someone they know.

Crossover With: Among Us 

Traitors (Among Us) by princessoftheworlds (JackIanto | complete | 440 | G)

In a happy future, the team plays Among Us, and Ianto suffers.

Crossover With: Among US 

Tagline: I saw the VIDEO. Got the CALL? What Next??? by  BricklingGhost (TeamGwenee) (JackIanto, JackSamara | complete | 2424 | Not Rated)

'Tagline: I saw the VIDEO. Got the CALL? What Next???

Bollocks. That’s just a myth. Some git showing off and claiming to be the one person alive who Samara doesn’t bump off. He’ll be boasting that he’s been chosen to kill Voldemort next.'

When another unsuspecting victim falls foul of the cursed tape, he is pointed towards Captain Jack Harkness as his only hope for salvation.

Crossover With: The Ring

(My God, He Just) Came and Went by  Brokenpitchpipe (SteveBucky | complete | 1591 | M)

It starts on a cold, snowy September night in 1916, on the day Winifred Barnes walks to Doris Lindow’s house to see her new telephone and catches the eye of a handsome young man on the other side of the street. He tips his hat as she sees him, and she flushes scarlet and nods in return.

And nine months later, a little baby boy screams his way into the world.

But that’s not when it starts. Not really.

Crossover With: Captain America/MCU

Beast Inside by Flamingbluepanda (JackIanto, OwenTosh, GwenRhys | complete | 26934 | M)

"Argue with anything else, but don’t argue with your own nature.” - Phillip Pullman

Inside us all, there is an animal that expresses our soul. How would the world change were those animals outside?

Crossover With: His Dark Materials

Rifts and Robots by Paycheckgurl (JackIanto | complete | 3021 | G)

Jack and Ianto’s date at the movies is interrupted by two robots with no theater etiquette.

Crossover With: Mystery Science Theater 3000

The Jack and Ianto Show by Paycheckgurl (JackIanto | WIP | 7392 | T)

Jack and Ianto are a regular couple, living a quiet life, and trying to fit into the quaint Village of West Castle. Sure they're keeping the secret that Jack is an immortal time traveler from the future, with a fantastical machine called a vortex manipulator that can manipulate time and space around them, but they have much more pressing concerns. Such as strict bosses and nosy neighbors. Everything is perfect, a dream come true.

And Jack is going to keep it that way.

Please Stand By...

Crossover With: WandaVision 

Mutually Assured Uncooperation by  princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, OwenTosh, MarthaMickey, FitzSimmons, LincolnDaisy (past) | complete | 31547 | T)

Aliens, time-travelling, resurrections. These are all experiences familiar to not just one but two top-secret organizations that have a hard time keeping a low-profile. Figures that they would encounter each other eventually.

Or: the five times that SHIELD and Torchwood had an encounter that neither were pleased with, and the one time they had to work together when two of their own were taken.

Or: There's Kree running amok in Cardiff, including a murdered one, and Torchwood is on the case, but so is SHIELD. Also, don't forget the memory-manipulating aliens there too!

Crossover With: Agents of Shield/MCU

all i know is (infatuations) by  princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, JackJohn,  OwenTosh, LisaIanto | complete | 439 | T)

Seventh-year Slytherin Ianto Jones handles a break up, getting a boyfriend, terrible emotional misunderstandings with his best friend Jack Harkness, being miserable, and reconciliation. (Not precisely in that order.)

Crossover With: Harry Potter

#torchwood #au:crossover #genre:crossover #event:across the bay crossover fest

[horansqueen]

New Angel - Chapter 19

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1  ☆ chapter 2  ☆ chapter 3  ☆ chapter 4  ☆ chapter 5  ☆ chapter 6  ☆ chapter 7  ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13 ☆ chapter 14 ☆ chapter 15 ☆ chapter 16 ☆ chapter 17 ☆ chapter 18

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.5k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

When I woke up, Millie was still asleep, her lips parted as she snored softly. I stared at her a few seconds but decided to get up slowly and walked to the kitchen after closing the door gently behind myself. I started making coffee and grabbed my phone to check my notifications. I clicked on Louis' name and licked my lips trying to find a way to make this whole fight stop. Now that I was finally close with Millie, I didn't want to lose Louis, and even if I knew Millie was not ready to be friends with Louis again, the thought of the three of us being best friends together sounded amazing. I wanted it to be possible at some point and for that, I had to solve my problems with Louis.

'Hey mate, how about Millie, you and I spend sunday evening together?'

I didn't want to explain that it was to solve things and I didn't want to have to point out that it was only the three of us, meaning that he couldn't bring his girlfriend. I liked to believe that he was smart enough to understand that but the last few times he could spare Millie some pain, he didn't, and I felt the need to add something.

'Just the three of us, you know? Maybe we could save this friendship.'

I watched the coffee fall for a few minutes and finally poured some in my favorite mug before I heard my phone beep. I raised my eyebrows when I realized it was Louis, surprised that he was up this early, and sighed low of relief when I read his answer.

'worth a shot. i'll be there.'

Now, I just had Millie to convince. And I knew it was not going to be an easy task.

---

It was not what I had expected. There were so many people in the apartment that I was starting to be scared someone would call the police on us. I kept going from the kitchen to the living room and even sometimes checked the bedrooms to make sure no one was breaking anything until Millie grabbed my arm to stop me and handed me a glass. I looked in her eyes and she raised her eyebrows, moving the glass closer to me. I stared down at it for a few seconds and finally grabbed it before swallowing everything in it. It burned down my throat and I grimaced, making Millie chuckle as she grabbed the glass from my hands.

"I wanted you to relax but if you empty that fast all the glasses of vodka I'll bring you, you'll be drunk in half an hour." she pointed, out, pulling on my arm.

I followed her and blinked a few times before she turned around to smile at me for half a second and finally looked back in front of her. It made my lips curl slightly too and when we reached the kitchen, she grabbed the bottle of vodka and filled my glass again.

"You're not drinking?" I asked, taking a sip from the drink she was handing me.

"No, I told you last night." she reminded me, shrugging a shoulder and leaning against the counter. "There's too many people and I want to make sure everything and everyone is alright."

"I thought we did that to celebrate our week together!" I argued, drinking what was left in my glass and making her chuckle.

"Yea well, I can do that without alcohol now can't I?" she shrugged, handing me what was left of the vodka bottle.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I asked with half a smirk, taking the bottle and grabbing her fingers at the same time. "Trying to get in me pants, yeah?"

"Exactly." she replied with sarcasm, sending me a cheeky smile. "I love riding drunk idiots who can't make me get an orgasm."

She walked past me and I frowned, turning around and moving my fingers up, following her quickly.

"Okay first off I'm not drunk, and also I give intense and amazing orgasms, even when I'm drunk. Which I'm not, by the way." I stopped in the hall and frowned a bit. "Did you put drugs in that vodka or something?"

"No!" she replied, turning around swiftly to face me. I watched as her hair danced around her head and swallowed hard. "What did you eat today, Niall?"

"Uhm, oatmeal? And eggs."

"Like, ten hours ago?" she argued, shaking her head with her eyebrows raised. "I'll get you some candies okay?"

I chuckled, not really understanding how candies could sustain me but I followed her to her room anyway. I leaned against the door frame, watching as she opened a few drawers and came back with a big pack of sour patch kids, pushing it on my chest and making my lips curl more.

"I prescribe two candies for every sip."

"Yes, doctor." I joked, making her roll her eyes with a smile.

We walked out of her room and I heard her close the door but immediately, I lost my smile as I came face to face with someone I didn't remember inviting. I looked at her, her perfect lips parting and her big brown eyes staring into mine. Grace was gorgeous and I thought my heart would jump in my chest at her sight but it didn't.

"Niall, hey." she let out, pressing her lips together and placing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Uhm, Cole invited me."

"Who?"

"Oh he's a guy I work with." Millie pointed out, sending my ex girlfriend a smile. "Hey Grace. I'll leave you too."

She grabbed my upper arm and squeezed it gently, sending me a fond smile, and disappeared in the mob of people.

I finally put my attention back on Grace and she licked her lips nervously, glancing at the hall. "Can we talk in private?"

I glanced at her hands, noticing she was playing with her fingers, and it made me think about my list. The only positive point I had time to write down was that I loved her, but now that she was here in front of me, I was not sure it was the kind of love that deserved to me saved. Grace was gorgeous, and I had hoped for a future together, but not anymore.

"Yea, alright.

We ended up in my room and I just sat on the bed, watching her close the door behind herself. My eyes followed her as she walked up to me and sat very close to me, her thigh brushing against mine slightly. I looked down at her pants rubbing against mine and was surprised when I realized it didn't do anything to me anymore.

"I miss you so much." I looked up at her and held my breath when I realized she was tearing up. "I get it, you know. You don't want to be with me anymore because I've hurt you, and I can't blame you. But I'd give anything for a second chance."

She grabbed my hand and squeezed my fingers but I couldn't get enough strength inside of me to do it back. She moved closer, sliding her other hand on my thigh and I looked down at it as my heartbeats accelerated. I felt paralyzed, torn between accepting her gesture and giving in one last time, or stopping her before it went too far. I closed my eyes, trying to make a decision but it's only when I felt her play with my zipper that my eyes opened quickly and I noticed she was on her knees.

"Grace, wait..."

"I just want to make you feel good." she whispered as I held my breath, my eyes roaming on her.

"I know, and I appreciate it, but Grace I can't." I got up and bent down to help her get up too but when my eyes met hers, I noticed she was tearing up.

"So, it's really over?"

That thought made my heart jump in my chest and I swallowed hard. I felt a bit dizzy and tipsy and I kept wondering if I would regret this in the morning. Would I regret not letting her put my dick in her mouth? But most of all, would I regret the words I was about to let out?

"Yes. It's really over."

Once again, she pressed her lips together but this time, I knew it was to stop the tears from getting out and as she turned around, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I grabbed it and answered without thinking of checking who was calling and my heart stopped for half a second when I heard Summer on the line.

"Niall?"

"Oh, hey, darling." I let out, glancing at Grace who had quickly turned around with a frown. "How are you?"

"Do you have a new girlfriend?" Grace asked, getting closer to me again.

She didn't seem mad at all but I could read pain in her eyes and it made my heart twist in my chest. Yes, Grace had hurt me, and perhaps I had wished that she would hurt just as bad a few weeks ago, but not anymore. If I could spare her the pain, I would do it.

"Niall? Are you with an other girl?" I heard Summer's voice again.

I closed my eyes, trying not to sigh, and shook my head slightly. "Yea, my ex girlfriend is here." I explained. "There's a party at my place."

"Oh, uhm, great!" she let out, making me frown slightly, my eyes still shut. "We needed a break! I'll see you!"

I opened my lips to answer something but she just hung up and I let my head fall back on my shoulders. I thought I'd spend a nice evening getting drunk and laughing with my friends but instead, my girl problems were all going to be there to ruin the mood.

When I opened my eyes, Grace was gone and even if I wouldn't admit it, it was a relief. I walked out of my room to join everyone and noticed Louis sitting on the couch, his girlfriend on his lap as they were both laughing with two guys I didn't know. I decided to go grab a beer in the fridge and started looking for Millie without much success. After twenty minutes or so, Louis noticed me and nodded as a greeting. I did the same and sent him a small smile that he sent back and just when I thought my heart was back to a normal beating, Grace appeared again in front of me. This time, she was clearly drunk and she moved so close to me that I took a small step back.

"I can't believe you replaced me so fast, Niall." she whispered, tilting her head and looking at me with tired eyes. "Is she prettier than me? Does she give better blow jobs than me?"

I frowned and shook my head slightly. I couldn't tell my ex girlfriend that Summer was clearly not ready to go that far. Not only was it none of her business but she was also too tipsy to really understand anything I would say.

"Grace, come on, I didn't replace you." I argued in a soft tone.

"No?"

"Of course not, you know it." I repeated, moving my chin down and opening my eyes more to look into hers. "I really loved you."

I thought it would ease the pain a bit even if I had used the past tense but I didn't think she'd actually just move closer and crush her lips against mine. I held my breath in surprise but it took me a few seconds to move away and when I looked up, I noticed Summer staring at me with sad eyes, her lips open.

"Holy shit." I murmured, knowing that even if I was theoretically single, there was a storm coming at me very soon.

"Wow, great way to get an answer to my confession." Summer let out, tearing up and shaking her head. "Fuck off."

She turned around, her long blond hair moving quickly in a ponytail, and I closed my eyes with a sigh. I knew I had to run to her and even if I really didn't want to have this discussion, I did it anyway.

"Summer, wait." I said calmly, grabbing her wrist gently and making her turn around. "Grace kissed me without telling me. I'm sorry, okay? You were not supposed to see that because it wasn't supposed to happen."

"That's such a relief." she added sarcastically again, taking her arm back and crossing them on her chest. "Did you miss me?"

I felt my heart twist in my chest and my lips parted. She noticed my hesitation and sniffed, wiping a single tear that was sliding down her cheek, making me feel extremely guilty.

"Did you take the time to think about what I told you, at least?"

"All I know is that I don't want a relationship for now."

Summer nodded slowly, looking away, and I knew she was making extra effort not to cry. I wanted to move closer and take her in my arms but something made me think it was not a good idea at all.

"Alright, well I need some time."

Quickly, she turned around and disappeared but this time, I didn't follow her. I just turned on my heels too and walked to the kitchen, opening the freezer to grab a bottle of jack. I didn't even take the time to take a glass and swallowed a long sip directly from the bottle. The glass was cold in my hand and I felt my fingers warm it but I took an other long sip, feeling my eyes water before to go back in the living room.

I realized I was not walking straight and that the room was moving only when I was close to the couch and I grabbed it to get my balance back before drinking again from the bottle even if I knew it was a bad idea. I took an other step, letting go of the couch and tripped on my own feet, falling on the hard wood floor. I was laying there, on my back, with a bunch of people looking at me, and I started laughing. The more I thought about everything that had happened on that night, the louder and harder I was laughing.

I kept laughing when Millie appeared, pushing people away and telling them to 'get the fuck away' from me, and also when she helped me up. I leaned against her, sending her an amused smile as I tried to contain my laughter but when she sent me mad eyes, I couldn't help but burst out again.

"Okay, you definitely need some fresh air." she pointed out, helping me out of the apartment, not even bothering to close the door behind us. "Then you can tell me everything that happened that made you want to intoxicate yourself until you can't even walk."

"Fuck love." I just replied, ignoring her comment. "I don't think I can ever love again. I won't fall in love ever again, until I die."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan story #niall horan love story #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #niall horan au #my fanfics #newangel

[dontmindthefangirling]

The Switch {p.p.}

Summary: In World 824, you’re the incredibly famous and incredibly obnoxious Peter Parker’s assistant. In World 626, you’re the nerdy and Star Wars loving Peter Parker’s best friend. In both worlds, you manage to fall in love with him, but what happens when there is a glitch in the universe, and they switch places? 

Warnings: swearing, angst, 18+ in future parts, drugs, alcohol 

Pairing: college!Peter x reader, famous!Peter x reader

series masterlist

chapter 1 - stolen glances

-

World 824

You huffed as you stomped up the glass stairs, hoping he would hear you coming as you approached his bedroom door. You had your laptop tucked under your arm after responding to very angry emails about Mr. Parker missing yet again another interview. He had one in twenty minutes in downtown Los Angeles, and he still hasn’t come out of his room. 

You knocked loudly on the door, sighing deeply as you heard giggling coming from inside. You heard muffled chatter as you tapped your foot impatiently. 

“Peter!” you called, rolling your eyes when you heard a high-pitched squeal from Peter’s friend inside. “You’re going to be late!”

You heard some shuffling coming from inside as you blew a strand of your hair out of your face. Finally, the door opened partially, revealing Peter shirtless in the doorway with just a pair of gray sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips. You swallowed thickly, keeping your eyes on his face.

“Like what you see, darling?” he chipped, winking at you. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks but you cleared your throat and pointed at your watch. 

“You have an interview with KTLA  in twenty minutes. Get dressed,” you scolded, keeping your voice level so that it didn’t waver in his presence. Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Do I have to?”

“You can’t blow off a fifth interview in one week, Peter.”

“Why not?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Because then I have to deal with the backlash.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” he chuckled, eyeing you lowly. 

“Petey!” a voice squealed from behind him. “Come back to bed!”

“Just get dressed,” you muttered before turning on your heel and heading back down the stairs. Peter watched you for a moment before he shut the door to get dressed. He didn’t like making you upset. 

At the bottom of the stairs in his large Los Angeles mansion, you padded your way towards the kitchen for a glass of water. Your throat felt dry after talking to him and you had to steady your heartbeat. 

How you managed to end up as Peter Parker’s assistant was beyond you. Your dad knew a guy who knew a guy who somehow got you the job as his assistant. He was apparently looking for one ever since he moved to Los Angeles from New York City, and he said you were perfect for the job when you were interviewed. Probably because you were really good at organizing things, or just because Peter wanted to sleep with you, you weren’t sure. 

Either way you were just happy to get the job. 

It paid really well, and you got to live in a huge mansion in Beverly Hills. When you took the job, you wondered how bad could it really be. Peter Parker is loved by everyone who knows him. 

Apparently, they didn’t really know him. 

He’s portrayed in the news as this kind vigilante who goes out of his way to save kittens from trees, help old ladies cross the street, and stop real danger when it reared its ugly head.

He rose to fame when he was seventeen, revealing to the world that he was Spider-Man and taking over Stark Industries after Tony Stark died, leaving him as his legacy. 

The fame got to his head. 

You had to constantly making sure he wasn’t getting himself obliterated with alcohol every night, or at least not in public where the paparazzi could see him, and you had to make sure the paps weren’t seeing a different girl leave his house every morning. He was always getting into fights with people who tried to challenge him at bars or clubs. Since everyone knew he was Spider-Man, a lot of people questioned it and thought it was all staged for fame, so they tried to fight him and see how it went. 

It usually did not end well in their favor. 

But also making sure Peter was portrayed as this famous hero who had an anger issue was incredibly difficult when he was punching people in the face in a public club. 

You also had to make sure his famous black suit was constantly washed and pressed so it looked brand new for every public appearance. This job deemed difficult when he was coming back to the mansion soaked in blood with an appearance at the Grammy’s the following night. 

“Call me?” the poor girl asked Peter as she followed him down the stairs. 

“Probably not,” Peter said, now completely ignoring her existence. Defeat crossed the poor girl’s face realizing this was only a one night stand. The same thing happened all of the time and you started to feel bad for them. 

“There’s a car waiting out front for you,” you said to the girl with a soft sympathetic smile on your face. “It’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

The girl softly thanked you before leaving the house with her head down. 

“Do you have to be so mean to them after?” you demanded once she was gone, putting your hands on your hips. Peter shrugged his shoulders while chugging the coffee you had left him on the table. 

“It’s not like we’re dating,” he said nonchalantly. 

You rolled your eyes, knowing you’d never get through to him. 

“Come on, we’re going to be late,” you scolded. 

“I was just going to swing there,” Peter said. “LA traffic is a mess.”

“Again?” you groaned. You still had to show up for the interview and if Peter swung himself there that meant that you’d get there after he did, leaving plenty of time for him to say the wrong thing or act out.

“They love when I do that,” Peter grinned, unzipping his hoodie and revealing the black Spider-Man suit underneath. “Really gets the cameras going.”

You sighed while slipping on your heels. “Fine, just don’t misbehave until I get there, please. Someone’s got to clean up after your messes.”

Peter took a step closer to you. “You know I can swing us both right?”

“No way,” you laughed while shaking your head. “There is no way I’m letting you swing me across downtown LA.”

“Why not?” Peter asked, cocking his head to the side. “I’m pretty strong (Y/N), I can hold you.”

“Peter, I’m in a dress.”

“That makes it better.”

“You’re disgusting,” you said while rolling your eyes and heading towards the door. “Just please behave!”

“I always do, don’t I?” Peter said, winking at you as he followed you outside. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Peter Parker,” you sighed as he shot a web towards a nearby tree and flung himself into the air, disappearing a few minutes later, swinging towards the city. 

-

World 626

You sat propped up on your best friend’s bed, skimming through the book you were supposed to have done for your history class tomorrow. Peter was scrambling around his room, searching for his notebook, throwing things around while you sat calmly on his bed. 

“It’s probably in your backpack,” you offered, not taking your eyes off of your book. 

“It’s not in my backpack,” Peter chided while tearing his closet apart. “Can you help me look?” 

You sighed, putting your book down and swinging your legs over the side of his bed. You walked over to his backpack and pulled out the blue notebook that he was looking for with all of his physics notes in it. 

“Is this it?”

Peter turned around, his curls a mess from frantically tearing his room apart looking for the notebook in your hands. 

“Where did you find it?” he gasped, grabbed it from you and placing it in his backpack. 

“Your backpack.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I saw you put it in there last night,” you chuckled. “I guess you just forgot.”

Peter shook his head with a light laugh.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said while pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I know,” you said with a smile, and Peter rolled his eyes. 

You both made your way down the stairs of the dorm building and exiting onto the Columbia campus. The sun was shining as it was early September and New York still had a few days of summer left before the leaves started to change. You walked next to Peter as he was headed to his physics class and you had history. 

“Want to grab lunch with Ned and MJ later?” Peter asked while scrolling through his phone. 

“Yeah that sounds fun. I haven’t seen them in a while since classes started,” you pointed out. 

“I know, everyone’s been crazy busy,” Peter hummed in agreement. You caught a glance of him from the side as the sun hit him almost...perfectly. His brown eyes reflected flecks of gold in the sun, and his curls looked so soft that you had the urge to run your hands through them. 

You shook your head, shaking yourself out of those thoughts. Peter had been your best friend since high school when you met as awkward freshmen and you were placed as chemistry partners. You hadn’t had the slightest idea how to solve any of the problems, but Peter was patient and helped you through them. 

You just stuck together ever since. 

You’ve seen Peter grow into the young man he was at college now, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say puberty didn’t hit him like a truck. You also knew that being Spider-Man had its perks like the extra muscle on his biceps, but no one else was supposed to know about that, except Ned and MJ, so you kept your mouth shut while girls tried to faun over him. 

But Peter was just too shy to talk to any of them, and it made your heart swell seeing as he didn’t change at all, even with the change in appearance. 

“(Y/N)?” Peter said, pulling you from your thoughts. 

“Huh?” you sputtered, looking back at him. 

“I asked if you wanted to go to Flash’s party on Friday,” Peter laughed. “What’s got your head in the clouds?” 

“Nothing,” you said, feeling your heart quicken in your chest. “Um, yeah, Flash’s party. He’s hosting at his frat at NYU, right? I think MJ texted me about it.”

“Yeah, Ned said he’d get us in. I don’t know if I want to go to a frat though,” Peter winced. 

“Why not? It’ll be nice to see Flash again.”

Peter gave you a funny look. “I still don’t understand your friendship.”

“What?” you shrugged. “He was always nice to me!”

“Yeah but he was mean to me, doesn’t that mean you have to hate him via like...transitive property or something?”

You laughed loudly. “Transitive property?”

“Yeah!” 

You continued laughing until you were interrupted by your arrival at your history building. 

“This is me,” you said in-between chuckles while earning glares from Peter. “You know I make fun of you with love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said, pulling you into a hug with a gentle kiss to your hair. “Whatever.”

You smiled, pushing him away lightly while waving goodbye as he headed off to Physics. At some point in your friendship, you and Peter got very cuddly with each other, reserving bear hugs and forehead kisses only for each other. You told yourself it was just platonic, but every time his lips touched your head, your stomach erupted into butterflies. 

“I always forget, are you and Parker dating?” a familiar voice asked from behind. You turned to see your friend, Harry Osborn, waiting for you in front of your history classroom. You rolled your eyes.

“No, we’re not dating,” you grumbled. 

“Sure looks that way,” Harry pointed out as you sat down in your regular seats next to each other. 

“We’re just really close,” you said and opened your laptop. 

“Super close,” Harry teased, grinning because he knew it got a reaction out of you. 

“Shut up,” you hissed, glad to see your professor walk into the room so that class could start and Harry had to stop talking. 

-

World 824

Camera flashes were blinding and you had no idea how Peter did this all the time. You were accompanying him to the premiere of his best friend, Will Langston’s, movie. Will Langston was a famous movie star, and naturally he became Peter’s best friend when they both realized they were A-listers. 

“Peter! Is it true that you’re going to be traveling back to New York to train with the Avengers?”

“Peter! Over here! Are you and Daphne dating?!”

“Mr. Parker! How is your Aunt?!”

Peter ignored the questions, per usual, and you stood on the inside of the red carpet, closest to the entrance of the movie theater and waiting for him to join you so you could accompany him inside. You had to admit that he did clean up rather nicely, as he was dressed in a traditional black suit and tie. His hair was gelled back, curtesy of his hairstylist, and his large and expensive Rolex shone brightly in the reflection of all of the camera flashes.

Once Peter had had enough time in front of the cameras he walked briskly over to you. 

“Ready?” he asked, extending his arm for you to hook. You stared at him hesitantly. Usually he brought a date to these types of things, but sometimes he didn’t. You just never expected him to want you to escort him inside. 

You knew you didn’t have time to wait around so you slowly grabbed onto his arm and walked with him inside. 

“Love, you’re shaking,” Peter whispered as you found your reserved seats for the viewing of the movie. 

“No I’m not,” you whispered back harshly. 

But you were. Your fingers that were gripping his arm were trembling because for some stupid and strange reason, being this close to Peter always made you nervous. You hated it. You quickly let go of his arm and smoothed out your dress as you sat down next to him. 

“Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?” Peter asked softly as he looked at you while patrons filed into the famous Chinese Theater. You blushed softly, thankful for the dim light of the theater. 

“You may have mentioned it in the car,” you responded, keeping your eyes on the screen. You felt Peter’s eyes on you, but you kept your eyes forward. He was always flirty, that’s just who he was. Lately, though, it seemed like he was dropping these types of comments more often. 

You didn’t like how it made your heart flutter. 

“You know this is a horror, right?” Peter whispered. You looked at him in alarm. You hated horror movies. 

“What?” you almost shrieked. 

Peter started laughing. “I’m kidding. It’s a comedy, I just wanted to see the look on your face.”

“That’s not funny!” you hissed, slapping his arm gently. He grinned at you with his perfect stupid teeth, and you rolled your eyes. 

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled. 

“Nah, you love me.”

“I really don’t.”

“Then why do you stick around?” 

You were a little taken aback by his question and you turned your gaze back to him, seeing the serious expression on his face. His brown eyes bore into yours, but before you could even think of answering, the lights dimmed even further and the movie began to play. 

You were left with your hands barely touching on the shared armrest between you and your heart beating wildly. Little did you know, his heart was beating as equally as fast. 

-

World 626

Music blared widely from inside Flash’s frat. You, MJ, Ned, and Peter were standing outside and waiting for Flash to come out to let you in. The frats had some ridiculous rule of only letting one guy in per a certain amount of girls, something they called the ratio. It was incredibly demeaning and sexist, but Flash insisted you didn’t have to worry about it.

You still worried about it. 

“Promise you won’t leave me alone with any of these guys,” you murmured to Peter as you watched Flash approach you. 

“I would never,” Peter said, placing a hand on your back. His hand made goosebumps break out on your skin and you had to inhale sharply to avoid visibly shivering at his touch. 

“Come on in guys!” Flash said excitedly while turning to one of his frat brothers. “They’re with me.”

Your group followed Flash inside while talking to him about NYU and how his classes were going. You had to admit, you missed Flash and his chaos. You even knew Peter missed messing with him. You could tell Flash was already buzzing, and the smell of vodka instantly hit your nose as you stepped inside of the beaten up old house. 

The music was so loud you almost couldn’t hear yourself think, but Peter’s hand on your shoulder kept you grounded. 

“If you guys want something to drink, there’s alcohol in the back room!” Flash announced over the music. 

“Want to get something to drink?” you asked, turning to Peter. He nodded as he followed you towards the room Flash pointed to. You grabbed a Truly from the cooler and Peter opted for a classic Bud Light. You made a face at him.

“Beer?”

“I don’t feel like getting black out tonight,” Peter chuckled and took a sip from the drink. You shrugged in understanding as you opened your drink. You both headed back to the dance floor and spotted MJ and Ned. 

“This music is terrible,” MJ yelled to you over the bumping bass. You laughed. 

“That’s frats for you,” you yelled back. Ned and Peter were trying to talk about something, but the music was so loud you didn’t think they were getting anywhere. 

“Want to dance?” you asked MJ. MJ gave you a look as if to say seriously, but you took her hand and pulled her further into the dance floor. 

“Come on, MJ!” you pleaded. “Please!”

MJ laughed as you spun her around, dancing terribly to Bodak Yellow by Cardi B. You both began swinging your arms together, ignoring the people making out around you. Eventually, Peter and Ned made their way over to you both. The frat was getting more crowded, which made it more difficult to walk without having to elbow your way through. 

“Ned! Have you talked to Betty recently?” you asked Ned over the loud music. 

“Yeah! She’s coming to visit next weekend!” your friend yelled back. You smiled at him, seeing how excited he was to see her again. Betty ended up going to Harvard for school, and you knew they missed each other. You were also excited to see your old high school friend. 

“Hey guys!” Harry Osborn said, making his way over with a red solo cup in his hand. “I’m surprised to see you here!”

“Why’s that, Osborn?” MJ challenged. “Because you think we’re lame?”

Harry laughed nervously while scratching the back of his head. “N-No, MJ, that’s not-”

“Relax, I’m messing with you,” MJ laughed. Harry seemed to relax almost instantly as he smiled at her. You tugged Peter next to you and leaned up to whisper in his ear. 

“You think there’s something there?” you giggled. Peter looked at MJ and Harry, narrowing his eyes slightly and shrugging.

“Yeah, maybe in another universe.”

You laughed and took Peter’s hand, spinning him regardless of his protests. 

“Aren’t I supposed to spin you?” he asked. 

“We’re breaking gender norms in this house, Parker,” you laughed. Peter chuckled and took another swig of his drink. 

After a few hours of dancing to incredibly loud music and drinking with your friends, you started to feel the alcohol in your system. You were laughing with MJ as you tried to set her and Harry up, which MJ was not happy about. You thought it was hilarious though.

However, at one point, when the fifth guy to approach you tried to dance with you, Peter grabbed your hand and pulled you from the dance floor. 

“Peter, what-”

“Those guys are like predators in there,” he sighed exasperated once you were outside and away from the loud music. Your ears were ringing now that the music wasn’t directly in your ears. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “I was dancing with MJ!”

“(Y/N), those guys were trying to dance with you and you didn’t even see them! That’s so creepy!”

“I know how to fend off a stupid frat boy,” you said. 

Peter smiled. “I know...I know you do. I’m sorry, I just...got nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?” you asked, your voice dropping in volume as you stared up at him in the moonlight. Your heart began to quicken as Peter brought up a shaking hand to gently push a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

You both began to move slowly towards each other, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders and his on your waist. You could barely breathe, and his scent was even more intoxicating than the alcohol. 

“There they are!” a very drunk Ned announced, causing you and Peter to jump away from each other. 

“We thought we lost you in that awful crowd,” Ned slurred. 

“I think we need to get him home,” Harry said, following MJ and Ned towards you and Peter. 

“Yeah, I can take him back to our dorm,” Peter said, giving you a quick glance before patting Ned on the shoulder. 

“Let’s go, buddy.”

You inhaled sharply as you watched them walk away to hail a cab. 

“(Y/N)? You coming?” MJ asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed shakily as you jogged to catch up with them. 

What was just going to happen between you and Peter? 

-

chapter 2 - uncharted territory

#peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker x mj #peter parker x reader #peter parker marvel #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #marvelspiderman #tom holland #tom hollander #tom holland fanfic #spiderman x reader #spider-man #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spider-man x reader #spider-man x y/n #spider-man x you #spider man x reader #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spider man #spider man fanfiction #multiverse #spiderverse #college!peter parker #tom holland spiderman

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 131

Two things about this chapter:

One: I am a sucker for these domestic chapters. I love showing people being people, and weaving world-building and plot development into those scenes.

Two: I am currently doing better from a work-exhaustion perspective, thank you everyone who was concerned!  I actually took the day off the day before I wrote this and just slept as much as I could that day, because the last day I worked, I was literally swaying on my feet if I stood still.

As always, thanks to @the-raven-fae, @baelpenrose, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for keeping me going, along with every. Single. Person. Who has found this story somehow and just binged it as fast as you could. I love when my inbox gets detonated by someone new, please never stop!

Glimmering Feathers Podcast is currently doing The Miys from the very beginning! Please listen and support!

“Have the shelter locations for non-combatants been shortlisted?” I panted as Tyche and I sat on the floor of the gym after an intense cardio and sparring session.

She shook her head as she took a gulp of water. “Not that I know of, but Xio hasn’t really told me anything yet.”

“You would think we would be told pretty quick,” I complained. “After all, we’re supposed to be putting together the rosters of who goes where.”

“We put together the lists of combatants and non-combatants.” She stood and held out a hand to help pull me off the ground. “Our part is done for right now, and we’re pretty far ahead of schedule, honestly.”

“This isn’t exactly the kind of thing we want to leave to the last minute.”

Tyche groaned. “Right about now, I wish you were planning the Festival still. You get crabby when you’re stressed and don’t have anything to work on.”

I scowled and made pincer-like gestures with my hands.  She just laughed and shook her head before I asked, “Are you and Antoine coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Only if you let me shower first. We both stink.”

There was no way I could argue with that, especially as I went to put my glasses on and caught a whiff of myself. “Showers, then dinner at twenty-oneish?”  As we exited the gym, I paused to let my eyes adjust to the far-dimmer lighting. Chills ran down my back every time I recognized the similarity to the nightmares Else had given me while trying to communicate, and I always had to spend a few minutes forcing myself not to step over debris that wasn’t actually there.

“Can we do vegetarian tonight?”

“You have to talk Conor into it.”

 A couple hours later, we were standing in my kitchen area.  Tyche was aggressively mashing chickpeas while staring down a nearly-flinching Conor.

I leaned over from where I was mincing herbs. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry. I’m making him lamb, he just doesn’t know it,” she whispered back from the corner of her mouth. 

To avoid smiling and giving it away, I called out instead. “Hey, Antoine, can you come start the tzatziki? You’re better at it than I am.”

“If you would give in to the existence of salt, Sophia, you would be a much happier woman,” he teased with a serious face.

“I use salt!” I objected.

“At the end,” my sister pointed out. “He salts the cucumbers before mixing everything together.” She glanced back at Conor before arching an eyebrow at him.

Distraction time. “Love, how are the plans for the housing fabrications coming?”

“Your mate Arthur apparently convinced Huynh - somehow, it’s not like they talk - that we don’t need fortifications,” he groaned. “I keep trying to explain that we aren’t putting up fortifications, it’s for agriculture.”

“Wait, what? What does that have to do with housing…?”

He tilted his head side to side as he considered. I could almost see him rewinding. “We have several different blueprints drafted for housing, dependent on what we learn when we drop into ‘real space’. Lots of them include plans for those espell-things to grow on the side, but Huynh is pushing back. It’s holding up the approvals.”

“What does Charly think?”

“Anything that helps us grow more plants with less impact on the environment is a win for her, so I’m trying to take the long view. He can decide whatever he wants now, but she’ll go with the plants every time.”

Antoine appeared next to me, wiping his hands. “How would your plan work if there is a cavern system, as suspected, rather than a surface settlement?”

He conceded the point. “Still working on a sustainable grow-light system for that one. But if it works, we would have year-round crops, so it would solve for the problem of storage in the winter.”

The door to our quarters opened just then, and a very tired-looking Maverick paused to take off his boots. “What would solve for the winter storage issue?” he asked.

“Sustainable grow-lights,” Tyche tossed over my shoulder from where she was hiding the lamb.

He made it as far as the table before dropping into a chair and leaning heavily on Conor, who wrinkled his nose. “Mav, you stink.”

“Turns out grav-mechs are greasy, even in space,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the other man’s shoulder instead of taking the hint. “I hate calibrating them.”

“No dirty hands at the table!” I reminded him. He didn’t move his head, just held up two meticulously scrubbed hands. “Fine…” I surrendered.

“Why are we talking about grow-lights?” he asked.

“Huynh is fighting with me ‘bout the housing solutions,” Conor explained, stroking his hair.

“Ah… the plants?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you just make the plants where they can grow with less light? I thought you were already working on that.”

“They turned black, tasted horrible, and we ended up with a sentient plague,” I pointed out. “No more dinking around with plant genomes please?”

Tyche turned around, hands on her hips. “We are already trying to manage a food festival and a potential invasion by space-pirates. No more plagues. Knowing her luck - “ she jerked a thumb in my direction “- this one won’t be the apologetic and cute kind.” Apparently the words that just came out of her mouth registered, because she rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air before turning back to her top-secret dinner plan.

I finally finished turning the pale green paste into patties and shoved them in the oven, removing the griddle that had been warming in there. Hefting it onto the heating elements that served as a stove, I started putting together dough for pitas. “So, grow-lights. What kind of light do we need for them to work?”

“Blue, ideally,” Conor responded without even having to think. “Four-fortyish nanometers. Weirdly red light, six-fiftyish nanometers works, too.”

“So explain the issue, because I feel like I’m missing something. Charly designed lights in both those colors.”

“Wrong wavelengths,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “And it’s apparently really hard to finetune the wavelengths of organic lighting. She’s managed to get it right, but only for about twenty four hours before it shifts too far one way or another.  We don’t want to depend on completely inorganic light, if Von is as metal-poor as we think it will be.”

“Can’t replace them,” I half-asked. He winked and shot me a finger-gun to confirm my suspicion. “Yeah, that’s a huge problem.”

“The star emits just the right kind of light, barely, so if we stick with surface settlement, we should be okay.”

“And that’s where the storage issue came up,” Maverick mumbled sleepily, bringing us back to the original question he asked.

Conor jostled him gently, and I heard something about a shower to wake up before Maverick padded off in the direction of the bathroom.  Right at the same time, Tyche reached around me to flip a pita before blowing her fingers and cursing softly.  Apparently, her secret was done, so I handed her the spatula and started rolling out more dough.

By the time Maverick came back with wet hair and a too-big shirt that had to be Conor’s, most of the food was on the table and we were ready to eat.  Conor started grumbling about no meat and how could us weirdos eat a meal with no meat when he was interrupted by Tyche clearing her throat. His head snapped up and his jaw dropped.

“You! You are the sneakiest, most beautiful sister in law I could ever ask for,” he extolled dramatically as he saw the platter of lamb skewers in her hands.

She moved the platter out of his prodigious reach as she approached the table. “There’s a catch. You have to at least try the falafel. By itself, no lamb. Then you can have the meat.”

Maverick, more awake now and with half a sandwich already in his mouth nodded. After chewing and swallowing, he nodded again. “It’s really good, I swear.”

I pretended not to notice that he grabbed a skewer off the stack.  Then again, Maverick also wasn’t a grown man who still had to be bribed to eat vegetables. Usually, he had to be bribed to eat meat actually.

Conor, on the other hand, took the falafel pita that Tyche made for him and eyed it skeptically. “I feel like I need to point out that this isn’t a sandwich, this is what you put on a sandwich.” His hesitancy lasted about as long as it took for Antoine to stand and pick up the platter before he took a huge bite out of fear that the lamb would be taken away. He chewed frantically until Antoine put the platter back down, before he actually registered the taste.

I wanted to laugh at the confusion that flooded his face as he stared down at the sandwich in his hand. Finally, he swallowed, but the confusion didn’t stop.

“That’s…. Actually not bad. I thought vegetarian food was supposed to be bad?” He flinched when dual glares were thrown his way by me and my sister. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant - you know what, I’m going to shut up and eat before you two ladies decide I’m for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Very wise course of action,” Antoine confirmed solemnly as he carefully spooned tzatziki on his own, onion-loaded sandwich.

Still shaking my head, I started making my own food when I realized something. “I thought we made a lot more falafel than this?”

Tyche smirked but didn’t say anything. Neither did Antoine, focused on his own meal. Maverick however, was suspiciously quiet. I glanced over at him, only to see him staring really hard at his plate, which now had three empty skewers on it.  As my mind caught up, I actually found the sight kind of adorable.

I must have stared too long though, because Maverick muttered pathetically. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

Kissing the top of his head, I put another pita on his plate. “Baby, we made more than enough. Eat all you want. I just don’t want you to choke, that’s all.”

A long-fingered hand with slightly ginger hair on the back put a skewer on his plate. “Love, we can’t eat all this, you’re fine.”

“I always make enough food for ten people when you two are eating,” Tyche confirmed, not even looking up. “Teenage nephews in the Before. Lots of practice.”

He slowly looked up at us, and realizing that no one was angry, just surprised, he looked less afraid and sat up straight. Conor patted the top of his hand before deploying one of his weaponized, thousand-watt smiles. “C’mon, I’ll show you to make one with the lamb. You’re gonna need a lot of onions for this…”

I groaned, setting off a round of laughter. I wasn’t against onions on a sandwich, but they didn’t have to sleep between two men with onion breath.

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#the miys #found family #food #aliens #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #hfy #haw #apocalypse #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #recovery #science fiction #sci fi #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing #my writing

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH48

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 48: Star Death Reality Show (XXXI) {cw: misgendering}

"Will Qi Leren be alright?" Dr. Lu, who had already run away, looked at Du Yue behind him in a panic and murmured in a low voice, "I have a bad feeling."

"Qianbei will be fine," Du Yue said confidently.

"No, let's go down and have a look. If he’s in trouble, we can help," Dr. Lu said.

"Okay, let's go." Du Yue was fine with it.

The two people studied the route to find the safest passage. Dr. Lu's sense of direction was bad, and Du Yue wasn’t much better. Two headless flies wandered around the institute and accidentally found intermittent blood on the ground.

The two walked along the blood trail, and finally found the injured Lara in a hidden room. Her injury wasn’t serious, but her spirit was not good. After seeing Du Yue and Dr. Lu, she was silent for a long time, and her voice was hoarse as she asked: "Have you seen Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue?"

The two shook their heads, and Lara sighed: "I'm afraid they’re in danger."

Lara told them what had happened after they ran away. Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue disappeared quickly, but Janet, Alex and Lara were together. They’d had an argument because Francis had been parasitized by an octopus. Janet strongly suspected that Lara was parasitized, and Lara would naturally not admit to such false accusations. During the argument, they met Leviathan, who had been thrown off by Qi Leren once before.

Janet, who was the closest to Leviathan, was the first to be killed. Alex tried to escape, but Leviathan jumped up again. Alex, who was eager to get rid of it, tried to push Lara out, and even stabbed Lara with a dagger. However, Lara had a strong will to survive. She took the dagger regardless of her injury and stabbed Alex’s vitals with a knife. She hid in a room, locked the door, and crawled away from the vents.

After that, Lara tenaciously fled the whole way, and finally came here and met Du Yue and Dr. Lu.

"We also met the monster, and Qi Leren led it away. Here's the thing..." Dr. Lu plainly told the story again, and finally asked, "We’re going to find Qi Leren. Would you like to join us?"

Lara touched the wound on her hand and nodded firmly: "Let's go."

This time, all three people were in a heavy mood. Especially after seeing the incomplete bodies of Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue, Lara cried sadly and asked aloud, "Are we the only ones left? Is Qi still alive?"

Janet and Alex had undoubtedly died by Leviathan's mouth, as well as Jing Siyu and Jing Siyue. Francis, Annie, Mark and Xue Jiahui were all parasitized. He Yi became Leviathan’s host. Only four of them had survived, and among them, Qi Leren’s life and death were still uncertain.

"Of course he’s still alive!" Dr. Lu said firmly. "He must still be alive!"

　　&&&

In the vast underground ice palace.

"Prophet, are you awake?" A blindfolded woman stood up from the chair of carved ice and respectfully saluted him. The ice and snow maids who were responsible for guarding the underground ice palace also bent over in salute.

"Soothsayer? Is it your rotation today?" asked the Prophet.

"It should have been the Iillusionist’s turn, but he had something to do, so we changed it," the Soothsayer replied.

"How is that boy recently?" When it came to the Illusionist, the Prophet's tone was clearly casual.

"Not bad, I heard that he made an interesting new friend, and he played tricks on others all day long." The Soothsayer smiled and asked again, "This time, you slept for a much shorter time than expected. Is something wrong?"

"It's not an accident." The Prophet frowned and looked up at the dome of ice and snow, but his line of sight seemed to pass through the thick layer of ice and look at the vast universe.

The blindfolded Soothsayer could not see his expression at the moment, but she could feel his inner unrest.

"Someone has discovered their original force, and that force is biased towards us," said the Prophet.

The Soothsayer breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and said, "Isn't this a good thing? Although it’s only the first step, it’s always ahead of the other sentient beings on the starting line. Maybe it will eventually condense a half-field or even a field."

It was only the first step to discover one's original force, and it would take some difficult self-testing to condense a half-field, but this already meant that this person was about to embark on a road different from ordinary players. Any master at the field level started from this first step. Although most people would fall in the long road of experience, everyone who had reached the field level had terrible strength.

The Prophet sighed faintly: "It’s too early to talk about field condensation... Although I’m optimistic about him, I didn’t expect it to be so fast. This may not be a good thing for him. There are still too many problems in his body that have not been solved."

The Soothsayer asked curiously, "Do you know that man? What is his original force?"

The Prophet sensed the new force full of vigor and hope, and gently spoke the answer:

"Rebirth."

　　&&&

In the deep underground glacier wrapped in eternal cold, the temperature was 60 degrees below zero. When human beings were exposed to this environment, it only took a few minutes for the blood in the nose and ears to be unable to maintain circulation because of the cold, and the cells would quickly die.

This underground world without light seemed destined to be forgotten in the cold.

Crushed skull, whole body fracture, ruptured organs, internal and external bleeding... Worse than that, when falling from that height, the speed would return to zero at the moment of contact with the ground, and the body would be deformed instantly under the huge force of the impact. Even the space alien Leviathan, whose vitality was extremely terrible, was seriously injured after falling and fell into a deep sleep.

To say nothing of a human being.

Death was the only outcome.

But suddenly, something moved in the ruinous "tomb" created from broken ice.

And then moved again.

Qi Leren felt as if he was in an icy hell. Every time he breathed, thousands of ice needles punctured his internal organs crazily, which made him feel miserable. He couldn't even think of why he felt so painful and cold, or where he was.

Under this inhuman pain, he only felt that he didn't want to live any longer, but he couldn't even die.

Breathing returned, heartbeat returned, he still couldn't open his eyes, he could only move with all his might. The stones and ice blocks on his arms also moved and collapsed violently, and his sound echoed in the lifeless darkness.

Qi Leren's consciousness gradually returned, and he remembered who he was, but he still didn't realize where he was. He complained crazily in his mind that the air conditioner in his room was too cold, and that he had even accidentally fallen from the bed, and now he couldn't move.

But how could it hurt so much? It was like all his bones were broken.

Qi Leren's confused thinking leaped illogically. He saw many things, and the broken pictures rampaged in front of his eyes, but they just passed away. All he remembered was that he saw a pair of blue eyes.

Blue eyes.

Ning Zhou.

The name suddenly appeared in Qi Leren’s, which was like a spell to unlock the seal on his memories. Countless heavy memories were bearing down, which were more painful than the rose thorn stuck in his heart.

He was going to find Ning Zhou, and he was going to bring him back.

Qi Leren finally recalled his mission, and he began to struggle, struggling to get up from the tomb built from broken ice. Just turning over exhausted his strength, and he had to lie prone on the ground and breathe for a while, only to recover his strength slowly.

He noticed the time. It has been twenty hours since he’d fallen from the ice cliff. It was ten o'clock on the fifth night. The fifth day’s Best of the Day had already been announced, but he didn't know who it was. At the same time, his privacy time has been reset with the new day day, and he had another ten hours.

If you fell from such a high place, the tracking camera should be damaged. If not, the low temperature here should make it unable to work normally. But just to be on the safe side, turn it off.

"Turn off the camera." Qi Leren squeezed his voice out of his dry throat, and coughed wildly as soon as he finished speaking. His mouth was full of the fishy sweetness of blood, which made Qi Leren feel queasy.

Suddenly there was a light sound in the dark, as if a stone had been pushed down.

Qi Leren immediately took out a flashlight from the item bar and shone it in the direction of the sound.

Not far away, there is a mound of rocks and crushed ice, and a tentacle was slowly sticking out from the inside, which was extremely slow and seems to be seriously injured.

That thing wasn't dead yet? Or did it sense the breath of the living again and wake up from hibernation?

Qi Leren struggled from the ground. Although he was mysteriously resurrected, his left hand, which was bitten off by Leviathan, still didn't grow back. If he tried this again, he would only die.

But fortunately, he had a key item that had cooled down.

When the Prophet's Heart was used again, Qi Leren felt subtly different from the last time. The phantom angel falling from the sky came to him and took him away from the terrible world to the carefree Garden of Eden. Under the cover of God's grace, he didn't need to worry, and he didn't feel fear. The world was like sand in his hand, and he could easily knead it into the shape he wanted.

Heavy rocks and ice were pushed away with a flick, exposing Leviathan lying on the ground dying. This horrible monster had a red eye, and this huge eyeball was full of ferocious madness.

There was an invisible giant clock behind him, and the pointer walked quickly. As long as it finished three laps, the power he borrowed would be like the chime of midnight, dissipating all magic.

He had to hurry.

Qi Leren held out his hand and raised his palm in the void. Leviathan floated and began to roar and struggle, but this degree of resistance had no effect before the original force. Moving the palm of his hand slowly, Qi Leren felt that he could easily knead it into pieces, just like what he did to Mark's octopus.

But this was not the only way. Qi Leren felt the mystery of time and carefully explored its secret. A mysterious feeling emerged in his heart. He rubbed his fingers and the sands of time slowly flowed down in his hands.

Leviathan floating in the air as if it had been cast in magic. Its shell was rapidly aging, coated with a layer of rust, and finally it seems to be petrified. Its body was full of cracks, and finally it turned into powder like beach sand, which sprinkled to the ground slowly, leaving a golden treasure chest and a round sphere.

Qi Leren waved his hand, and these two things fell into his hands. The treasure chest was opened, which was an item.

[Lucky Revolver: There are six slots in this gun’s chamber, one of which is loaded with a bullet. Shooting at one's own temple can give one minute of absolute defense within a radius of 500 meters around the locked target, but the absolute defense is invalid for this bullet. Even if you are lucky, God will only give you five minutes. If you are not afraid of death, you can continue for another minute. Locked target: not set.]

Qi Leren immediately decided that this was of no use to him, because he would blow his head off with the first shot, and unless it was matched with S/L, it was a waste.

Disappointed, he looked at the other object, which was an eyeball as big as a bowl. The scarlet pupil seemed familiar. It was called [Leviathan's Eyeball].

What was this thing? There wasn’t even a brief introductory description, which reminded Qi Leren of another prop without a brief introduction, namely, the "Scepter of Hell", which Maria had entrusted him to give to the Prophet.

Time was running out, and the clock representing his time limit only had half a rotation left. The translucent wings behind the Qi Leren lifted him, flying over the deep underground glacier, crossing the collapsed ice tunnel, flying all the way along the coming road, and returning to the iron door at the entrance before time ran out.

"Qi Leren? You’re still alive? That’s great!" "Qianbei! Are you alright? Qianbei! How did you grow wings!" "Qi, are you alright?" The three people wandering around the door with flashlights rushed up in surprise at the sight of Qi Leren.

Prophet's Heart’s time was up, and Qi Leren landed on the ground. After the sacred power retreated, he sat down weakly and walked out of the underground ice cave with the help of the three panicking people.

"It's okay, it's all taken care of. Just in case, we should quickly leave here, seal the exits, and wait for rescue." Although Qi Leren was still in the aftershocks of coming back from the dead, his mind was clear, and he clearly commanded the three people. He was worried about whether there were any octopuses hatching in the research institute, but he was afraid to say it now, for fear that after his mouth moved, his good luck would run out.

Du Yue had great strength, and single handedly carried Qi Leren, who had lost his arm, on his back. He listened to the three people say what had happened after they’d split up, learning that after discovering that the other people had become Leviathan's food, the three people had come to the bottom of the institute to look for Qi Leren. They went in several times, but the temperature inside was horribly low. Unlike Qi Leren who had been blessed by the holy light, they finally had to retreat, worried that Qi Leren was dead.

Qi Leren didn't say that he and Leviathan had fallen off the ice cliff together, only that Leviathan had fallen off, and that he was injured and unconscious for a long time but didn't die. Finally, God blessed him and gave him strength to return to them.

Dr. Lu and Du Yue were very embarrassed, but Lara was very moved. She took Qi Leren's remaining right hand and sincerely said, "When we go back, introduce me to your teachings. I’m willing to be baptized."

Qi Leren, who had no intention of preaching at all, was in a distressing situation. One atheist has destroyed the worldviews of another atheist through acting skills and unscientific miracles—maybe more than one. Should he be sealed as a saint or something?

They left the underground research institute, blocked the exit, left the basement, and returned to the surface. The night was bright and the whole land was covered with white snow and ice. Lara, who was the first to leave the room, pointed to the sky in surprise and shouted: "Look, what is that!"

The three people raised their heads and looked at the approaching black spots.

"Is it... Is the rescue coming?" Dr. Lu was excited.

"Great." Qi Leren also breathed a sigh of relief. The copy was coming to an end, and they could return to the Nightmare World soon.

The spacecraft was getting closer and closer, and before long, they would be able to board the spacecraft safely and leave, but the spacecraft was slow to land. The four people waited anxiously, just like waiting for a late plane.

"It seems like something’s wrong." Lara stood up and looked at more and more spacecrafts that had no intention of landing. "What are they waiting for?"

A thought flashed through Qi Leren's mind: "Are they a civilian spacecrafts?"

"No, these are..." Lara said, her voice stopping abruptly.

A beam more dazzling than sunlight converged on the muzzle of the spacecraft, and the terrible energy was aimed at this planet!

Stunned, the four people watched the devastating attack on the plane beneath their feet, and they couldn't help feeling shocked. They had never thought that, after escaping death from a horrible space alien, they would finally die at the hands of their own people. In order to prevent the octopus from spreading, the army gave up the idea of a rescue landing and blasted the whole planet to pieces at a safe distance, where there was no risk of contact.

At the last second in this copy world, Qi Leren and the others were judged to have completed the task requirement of "surviving until the army arrived", and left the world in the light of the blast.

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Editor’s Notes: Obviously those items can only have positive results, right?

As a bonus for the end of this arc, BMBL wrote a collection of the program audience’s reactions on her Weibo. They’re posted as images so I can’t easily throw them into an mtl, but here’s the link for anyone who wants to take a stab at it: https://weibo.com/1741082525/F4b6D7Upr

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