#Cracks in the Foundation|Turn modern au

[brooklynislandgirl]

What are some physical things your muse does when they want someone to sleep with them?

Body of Evidence || Accepting

The 1770 House hadn't disappointed. Their dinner date had been candle-lit and lingering, slow enough to talk and laugh in a way that seems particular to them ~in turns sweet and amusing, deeply philosophical, sometimes nerdy, and underpinned with the tragedies that brought them together in the first place~ but timeless from the first sip of the sparkling rose, to the last sip of coffee. Afterwards there was just as leisurely walk. Ever the gentleman, Ben draped his coat around her and for just a few moments, she tugged the lapels close to her face so that she could breathe in his aftershave and the warmth of him. They ended up catching a cab back to the Manor. Beth hangs her coat and lets Ben get comfortable while she puts on Chopin's complete Nocturnes. A press of the button sets the prepared coffee for brewing though he doesn't have to have any when she presents him his cake. When she finds him again, he's of course in the library. And she knew that this would be his favourite room in the massive sprawl. Had predicted it when she made the offer to spend a weekend away. He cuts an elegant figure in front of the leather-bound tomes, some of which are older than the house, older than the first roots of the Riley clan in America, and not all of them written in English. Something stirs low in her belly as she watches him for a moment or two. Eventually she makes her way over, nimble and silent as a mouse, before her arms wrap around his waist, one hand remaining near his hip, the other sliding upwards to rest just below his heart. She presses herself into his back. Her nose finds the hollow of his spine and the tip of it is separated from his skin only by his shirt as she half-closes her eyes and breathes him in. The sharp points of her teeth sink into her lower lip for a second. "Hi."

[brooklynislandgirl]

"I said what I said," she teases when he laughs, taking nothing she said with any seriousness. She studies his profile in the shadow-turn-light. The heavier brow ridge makes her think of a paper she'd recently read in the Biological Reviews journal and a certainly not new theory of evolution. She almost asks if he's ever been one for a good dust-up but the implications might not sit well. The tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes, his mouth when he laughs. How that laugh almost sounds rusty but pure at the same time; it's genuine and he hasn't done it in a while, has he? "Probably not. Sheila and I wouldn't get along. I can be territorial, and with out a microwave, how would you manage?" She doesn't tell him about her aversion to mirrors, and instead enjoys the tale for what it is. She makes note that he knows, if poorly, how to play guitar, and can almost see him admiring Andy's collection. He'd be prohibited to touch the ones in the acrylic cases, but there's a few she'd be willing to let him strum. It would be a huge step forward in her own grief-processing, letting go just a tiny bit instead of enshrining everything from her brother's life into a tomb fuller than his own. "Doesn't surprise me. If any thing, it…it makes me relax, and possibly even admire you. I have a phone, but it's mostly for work. I actually prefer writing long-hand, on stationary. I know, I know. I'd do it by candlelight, too. But mostly I hate having to compete with a screen when conversing. I feel both writing and conversation are becoming lost arts." She nods when he gets into the gift of self and she finds herself nodding purposefully. All part of Aloha, though she doesn't say so. She loves the way he answers the next question, easy as you please. Grandpa music could be anything from things like AC/DC all the way back to the Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey era, and she likes that he enjoys vinyl. Some day he's going to fall in love with her apartment and never want to leave. He and Andy would have been fast friends, and she feels a pang as she imagines both of them sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in the music room, sipping at a single malt, and smiling while losing themselves in the music. She doesn't laugh at his pun mostly because she doesn't hear it, but her smile should be enough to convey her warmth toward him anyway. "I knit." Barely enough breath to be actual words. "Spend a lot of time on causes an' charities." Beth never met a protest she didn't like, Andy used to say. Watching his face fall is like watching a barrel collapse when you're still in the tube. It knocks her off the conversation the way the wave can sweep her off her board. She breathes in guilt. She breathes in grief. She only comes up for air when his hand anchors her. Touch has always been important to Beth. Words lie, but touch never has. His is gentle in its grasp, his thumb says things that maybe he can't. She squeezes right back and leans slightly toward him but not enough to distract his driving.

His next confession drops her heart into her stomach. She knows what it is like to lose a parent at that young age. She was ten when her mother walked out of her and Andy's life, leaving them with the Admiral and everything that came after. Beth has never forgiven her for it, and has carried the guilt of being so terrible, so unlovable that her mother never once tried to contact her again, went on to a new life, and even got herself a new set of children. She might as well have died, for all the relationship had deteriorated. At the same time, it sounds an awful lot like he took over the same role Andy had, being a parent, a sibling, a protective wall against the outside world. There's a car park on the corner, and still a few blocks before they get to the diner. "Oh, Ben," she whispers, and chokes up on his tone of voice. "Can you…can you pull over just a second?" It wouldn't do to try and pull him into a hug while he's behind the wheel, putting pedestrians and other vehicles, themselves, at risk. There are so many things Beth takes with a child's ocean of faith, never once questioning the potential for them not to be true, but one thing she doesn't believe for a single second is coincidence. Somewhere there is an invisible hand that puts things into motion at the time they are needed most, and she cannot think meeting Ben was an accident. "I promise nothing bad."

"My toaster's a hussy?" Ben echoed, the glimmer in his eyes reflecting the overhead streetlamps. "I'm sorry, but Sheila has nothing on your Casanova of a microwave." He laughed then, amused by the absurdity of it all -- of being able to laugh period, and freely, happily. "Maybe you two should never officially meet."

Music and motion...

The conversation drifted to dance, and Ben hummed approvingly. "Me too," he affirmed, "but only in front of my bedroom mirror. Growing up, I hosted many an impromptu concert in my bedroom, and all horribly underwhelming." He grinned. "First, it naturally began with some air guitar. Then by my thirteenth birthday, my dad saved up for a real one, and I took lessons. I still play every so often...nothing amazing, like Eric Clapton or Jimi Hendrix, but serviceable for my own personal amusement. Or delusion, if you don't think I'm up to snuff."

Ellie's concession that he must have great stories made him smile, albeit self-consciously. Perhaps it was his father's teachings forever ingrained in him -- be humble, be kind -- but no matter the reason, it was rather difficult to think of himself as interesting. "Maybe," he agreed. "But would it surprise you to hear I don't own a lick of social media? I had a LinkedIn for a while, but even that became too much to bear...my employers would prefer that I have a more tangible footprint -- makes it easier for the parents to look into, I suppose -- but I grew up in an age without it, and that's what I enjoyed." He shrugged. "Our lives should be our own...a precious gift we only share with a select few -- the ones who matter to us. I have no desire to be known by the whole world."

Her question about his "official old man trait" brought another smile to his face, albeit crooked. "Bad puns and grandpa music, hands-down," Ben replied. "I still opt for records over CDs and MP3s, so you'll find anything from Jim Croce to Sinatra on my shelves." He paused for dramatic effect, then wryly concluded, "Because I have no shelf control."

And just like that, with only a handful of words, Ben's heart plummeted and his smile receded along his face, much like the waves escaping the shore. He took comfort in Ellie's words -- they were beautiful despite the raw, gaping ache in his chest -- and for a long moment, he was silent. Her admission of wishing she'd had someone, a friend to shoulder the burden, caused that ache to travel up toward his throat and burn there, searing in its intensity.

On impulse, Ben lifted his hand. For a moment, he hovered it over a stray fast food wrapper, pretending as though he might merely be seeking to tidy up, before he ultimately brushed it aside in favor of taking Ellie's hand. He squeezed her fingers in his palm, lightly running his thumb over her knuckles, and her husky admission caused his heart to skip a beat.

"I'm sure I would have," Ben softly offered. "If he was a fraction of what you are..." With the words halting on his tongue, he swallowed them back in favor of politeness, if only because he was well aware of sibling rivalry and how no one, no one could ever be the same person.

"No," he finally spoke, shaking his head. "Or rather...not recently. My mother passed when I was eleven, so I took on a lot of the responsibilities around the house. I had to protect my brother, Samuel...it's what I'd always vowed, even though I was arguably far too young to do so when he was born." He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in nervous agitation. "I wish the ones we love could only be buried in our hearts, not...not cold, unfeeling holes in the ground."

Jaw tense, Ben closed his eyes for a moment -- don't you cry; don't you dare cry! -- before he opened them again, exhaling in a long, shaky breath. "It was Sammy," he mumbled. "I lost him about five months ago."

[gladiatorcunt]

Modern coryo whos trying to sorta maybe manipulate his gf by being obsessed and then not reading her texts for 3 days but the gf is literally the same so it’ll be like

r: “heyyy” and then a day later he replies “heyaaa” and then it goes on like that for a week until he cracks and sends her 15 messages in the span of 4 minutes

cw: feminization/fem label “gf” but the reader is still only intended to be afab, the ask has she/her pronouns but i don’t use them in the writing, manipulation and toxic behavior, typical coryo/modern!coryo warnings, love bombing, not canon to the main au, black cat reader ish, reader has a shower in their dorm bc i say so 🤫, male masturbation

Now Coryo wouldn’t do this during your relationship, despite his best attempts to play it cool, you make him panic and he’s immediately resorting to rich boy love bombing (trips, those ridiculously expensive boxed roses, 999999999 rounds of oral on his yacht, a summer house, etc.) followed by baby trapping. He’s not stupid enough to try something like that deeper into your relationship, for him it’s about making sure the foundation is as solid as possible and not shaking it up.

This would really only happen before you even start dating, after he’s bumped into you in the dorms enough times to wear you down into giving him your number. He’s still in his “i have to the most mysterious person alive” mindset and he hasn’t quite shed the fuckboy persona yet. He doesn’t seek anybody out or anything, it was love at first sight with you unfortunately, he’ll just imply that that you’re another contact in a long list. (You’re the only one in his favorites 💀)

You’re smart enough to be wary, too involved in academics and proving yourself to go sniffing around Coriolanus Snow. You don’t really talk to a lot of people, and you’re not interested in a swarm of meaningless interactions. You’re just grateful that he stopped calling you so much, learning that you very much prefer texting. He’s the king of the “hey u up?” text, and you have the flattest look on your face as you reply “Yes.” and turn your phone face down. Exchanges like happen over and over.

Does your heart flutter when he insists on walking you to class and pecking your cheek at the door? Yes but you’ll roll your eyes and make a big deal out of wiping it off. Are you intrigued by how much he hauls ass to get you your coffee order whenever he senses that you need it (because he can, he’s like spiderman but lame)? Well, yes, but he must be playing some kind of game with you. Has a cliche bet with his fraternity brothers over your assumed virginity maybe. The more you’re determined to not fall for it, the more you find yourself slipping as the days go by.

Just when you turn your head when he pecks your cheek outside the lecture hall, expecting the gesture more than dreading it, he gives you a blank stare and turns on his heel. You take a second to blink and then shrug, it’s no skin off you back if Coriolanus decides to be normal for once. You definitely do not have a bit of a scowl throughout the entire session. (he nearly lost it when you didn’t react at the lack of a kiss, he kicked the wall and almost broke his foot)

He’s back to the “heyy” texts at random hours, responding to your “Hey.” that came a day later two days after that. He’s screaming into his pillow and pacing his grandma’am’s gardens, glaring at the staff pruning the shrubs. Coryo would rather die than admit defeat though, so he hardens his resolve. You’ll break eventually. You on the other hand are living normally, slurping ramen and working on essays. You’ve learned not get your hopes up over a pipe dream, the idea that someone like him would genuinely care about you being so laughable that you get over it rather quickly. You may be from different economic classes, but a man’s attention is never a necessity. That an he’s far from the only trust fund kid in the world.

A week later, your phone goes off in the middle of the night. You step out of the shower and dry yourself off, walking over to your bed and picking it up. To your surprise, the notification from Coriolanus isn’t another dry message, it’s several videos. They all look dark and fuzzy, ranging from 30 seconds to 10 minutes. In some of the thumbnails you can see flashes of bare skin. You click on the first one and are immediately faces with Coriolanus Snow’s sweaty abs.

You’re frozen as he eventually splatters jizz all over them, the camera work is shaky and the flash exposes too much for your liking. You can see his abdominal muscles twitch in the aftermath of his orgasm. He drags his fingers through his own cum and smears it over the camera, giving you a pov of what it’d be like to have your face covered in it.

Your phone chimes again.

Stalker: turn the sound on for the rest ;) see u at the car wash next friday, babe ❤️

You block him (after you save the videos and check the charge on your vibrator).

[fractualized]

hi randomly picking your brain here! (imagine a literal batjokes brain picking situation though...)

I really like stories with a villain/hero ship, but I feel like they're always in favor of the hero -- tons of aus and potential with reformed joker (AND I LOVE THEM!!!)

but also, I personally love corruption AUs, and I love the idea of the villain reforming the hero. pulling the hero to the allure of the dark side and finally accepting some of the appeal that villainy brings to the table. being able to foster their love in an environment where their desire is no longer focused on others but themselves... and I know some of that happens with the batman who laughs, but I was wondering if you had any thoughts on joker successfully corrupting batman?

maybe it would be a fundamental crack in their foundation and wouldn't work in some iterations, but I love a challenge! maybe joker could convince Bruce that joker+batman on the same side of evil is less damage, more control, and more fun than batmanvs.joker on opposing sides. maybe less death would happen if Batman would play by jokers rules for a while! I feel like Bruce would at least explore the potential for that in his own head, even if he may not agree in canon, typically... even if it's just to play the long game and come back out again a stronger hero.

what do you think? 🫀

I haven't toyed around much with the idea of Joker corrupting Bruce. I've written Bruce doing shady/awful things, but they stem from his own issues and are usually, uh, bad for Joker.

The Batman Who Laughs basically illustrates why the idea's never grabbed me. Joker has built his life around acting in opposition to Batman. That's what he thinks is fun, getting under Bruce's skin. If Batman joined him in pure destruction, the challenge between them is gone. It's not their roles. It's why Joker considers TBWL an offense to the natural order. And more simply than that, I think Joker would get bored. It's the same as when he succeeds at killing Batman: yay, he did it! And… now what? It's easier to see Joker being reformed— or "reformed"— because there's still lots of ways he can start shit. 😂

Plus on Bruce's part, I can't think of a reason he would take that kind of turn that doesn't feel like a stretch, other than having his brain chemistry altered as in the case of TBWL. Like I did have the idea once of doing an inverted Halfway Across, in which Bruce gives up and joins Joker— but part of the inverse is that this story is a comedy and Bruce is just really bad at being evil. He'd drive Joker nuts by only stealing what they really need, giving people a chance to escape traps, freeing animals Joker tries to test on, etc. Which gets at the "less damage" aspect you mentioned, but I could still never think of a great reason Bruce would cross over to start with, even a goofy comedy reason.

But then again, that assessment is based on more modern takes on the characters. I could see it more with earlier versions, when Joker is obsessed with Batman but his crimes revolve around getting money or jewelry or funsies. Bruce is goofier too, and he hasn't, you know, dealt with any dead children.

And of course there are AUs, like in Telltale, where John starts out wanting Bruce's approval so it's easier to see him compromising with Bruce than your standard Joker. So you could have a universe where Bruce isn't as stringent about his principles— but then it feels less like corruption, and you lose the fun!

Hmmm, there is Omega in Last Knight on Earth. Joker was not a fan, but maybe we take a similar scenario. There's an utter catastrophe, and Bruce is broken, and when he has the choice to rally his usual worldview like he always does, Joker is there and convinces him otherwise. But then I still come back to: would Joker get bored? Maybe that's just part of the story. Joker is entertained by guiding Evil Novice Bruce for a while, but inevitably turns on him, mocking him for abandoning the principles that made him such a great nemesis. And then Bruce realizes he's truly lost everything! 🙃

[chiefbeifongcanrailme]

Director's cut for Laws of Physics pls??

*Cracks knuckles* I'm finally getting to this. Every time I started typing this, I'd get overwhelmed but just how much I have to say and by this point, I've been putting it off for way too long.

It all started because of the Avatar Sunken Ships Week 2021 event that prompted me to write a modern AU. Before this, I had honestly never considered it mostly because I'd grown tired of the amount of modernization we see in books and media today. There's always a text conversation or internet stalking and somewhere, the appeal of the Avatar universe had to be the absence of these things. So when a modern AU was kinda thrust on me, I decided to have fun with it, until I realized, it was thoroughly self-indulgent and it way more fun than I imagined.

At the time, I was in grad school, in love with one of my professors- but obviously, nothing could happen there. As a kid, when in school, I was sooo nosy about my teachers' personal lives. Taking both those two aspect of me together, I decided to go with a university setup- that way I'm only writing adults- I don't think I care to write kids- no offense to anyone.

So, coming to Laws of Physics I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. Clearly, I had a lot more to write and establish in the very first chapter, but I ended up speeding through the foundation and gave it my best. Most of the comments I received implored me to consider writing another chapter to it. And while I often get comments like that, I learnt that not all fics should get a second chapter (wink, wink, nudge, nudge- if you know which one), however, some, like It's Time to Make Time did so well.

And then, one day I was in lab during a 10hr experiment and I had no music or anything to keep me occupied, so my brain travelled to Linumi land- more specifically, the outline to Laws of Physics. So, while I sat there, isolating cells from the very tissues I harvested, I decided Hiroshi Sato should be a part of this as Lin's ex and manifestation of daddy issues. That Asami and Mako could make a great background pair.

That I could have each and every single character from canon "play" whatever character I wanted them too- a fictionalized version of sorts of themselves.

The rest pretty much wrote itself. I wanted to spend more time on Bumi and Lin's relationship because that's where the fun is- the sneaking around and the drama. And because of this, I ended up writing Physical Laws too, a little prequel to my modern AU.

Without spoiling too much, so far, we have learnt some about both their pasts. Bumi used to be married, and Lin used to be in a relationship (another secret relationship) with a much older man with whom she almost had a baby with. Bumi has a very loving family and an adorable pet bunny, Bumju, while Lin, doesn't have a great relationship with her family. If I have Mako in the fic, he obviously has a big crush on Lin- it's not something I can help. Asami kinda joined the fic by herself, I never asked her to and then obviously Hiroshi's her dad so I was like omg DRAMA, get in here girlie. Would you like a Mako on the side?

Since it's Lin x Bumi, the fic often takes goofy turns and cooky romantics but that helps balance out the drama which as of now, isn't heavy, but may dip in that territory soon.

I look forward to getting out the whole story soon.

Thank you for the ask!

Fanfic Writer: Director's Cut

[funnywiccanwritingcorner]

Le Joyau le plus precieux

A Lucky Luke Modern!AU fanfiction

Chapter XIX - Showdown

-Are you comfortable?- Mason asked his two prisoners, tied with ropes on two chairs, back to back. They had taken them to a secret room located between what used to be the roof of the old base and the beginning of the tower foundation, a rather cold and bare place with concrete walls and a large air duct running along one wall.

-Now you're going to explain how you intend to eliminate us- Joe threw in. -Of course he will, it's a pretty common cliché- added Lucky. -You still have the will to be humorous. Either you're very brave, or very stupid.- -That line was obvious, too, wasn't it, Joe?- -True. And to answer you, Dorian, we're just sure we'll get away with it. Come on, Luke has eluded me for so long thanks to his shameless luck that I've learned not to underestimate it. You should, too.- -Your optimism and confidence are commendable, but I'm sure they'll abandon you once I tell you what I need... this for.- From a pocket under his jacket he took out a small black remote control with a button and a dull red bulb: -Can you guess what this is about, Detective?- -A remote control, it seems obvious to me.- -This will be tonight's grand finale. Do you know why the lift that runs up the tower does not stop before the top floor?- -Because it's empty all around, isn't it?- -That's right, Luke. Just beams and concrete above our heads. Apart from the bombs, of course.-

Dalton suddenly became serious: -What bombs?- -Once the auction is over, this place has to disappear. So I thought fireworks would be ideal.- -Build a place and then demolish it? You really have money to burn, Dorian!- exclaimed Luke. -And you will enjoy the show very closely, my dears. Because you will be here till the end.- He hid the remote control in his jacket again: -You still have about four and a half hours to live. You can entertain yourselves by counting the cracks on the wall.- He made to leave, but turned one last time to Lucky: -By the way, did you know that Ivor has a GPS microchip under his skin? And that therefore I knew he was stuck in Paris? Anyway, great idea to record false messages.- -You did just as well for a dog, then.- -He's my trusty right-hand man. I dread to imagine what you did to him to force him to talk. But I intend to get him out of trouble, and if a single one of your friends or relatives tries to stop me...- That tone of thinly veiled threat was enough to make Luke shake in his chair: -You wouldn't dare!- -I won't. My men will. Well, goodbye.-

Left alone, with the dull hum of the air duct in the background, Joe tried to communicate through his earpiece: -Nat? Pjotr? Can you hear me? Damn... There's no reception here at all... Maybe we're isolated or something.- -I swear, if he touches our families, he's going to pay dearly.- -That's not gonna happen, because we're gonna escape. Can you move your hands?- -No, my wrists are tied to the legs of the chair. How about you?- -The same. And they're tied pretty tightly too, damn it.- -Our only hope are Pjotr and Nat.- -Yeah. Just because the earpieces don't work now, doesn't mean they're not looking for us.- -... Joe.- -Yes?- -I have to agree with Mason on one thing. I got you into this, and now your life's in danger, too. I'm sorry.- -Stop it. You gave me a choice and I knew the risks; I voluntarily followed you here.- -But...- -Come on, I'm a cop, which is a dangerous job in itself! What do you want it to be, being tied up, getting stuck under tons of concrete, with the looming threat of being crushed to bits and in the company of a partner in a miniskirt and tights!- The latter made Lucky let out a laugh: -It's not the best, I'd say!- -Yes, but it would be worse to face this situation alone.- -Yeah. At least Mason didn't separate us.-

A momentary, strange silence fell, until Joe continued: -Did you mean it when you said you wanted to stay in Paris?- -Yes.- -So... you would stay with the company at the Moulin Rouge, as well as continuing to live with Cheyenne.- -Yes, but why-- -I don't want you to disappear, you know.- -Disappear?- -I mean... Apart from the fights and the chases, we also had fun. When we get back to Paris, well...- -Yes?- -You can keep bugging me, Luke.- -You mean you want us to keep... seeing each other?- -If you want to.- -Of course I do!- asserted the other, -So that's what you left hanging in the car earlier!- -Let me put it this way: when we manage to escape from here and kick Mason's ass, I wouldn't mind another dinner with getaway.- -Huh. We still have four hours and something to get out of this mess.- -We could use a razor blade or something very sharp... but this room is completely empty.-

A metallic thud suddenly resounded.

-Did you hear that, Joe?- -What?-

Another thud.

-Comes from the air duct.- -Those things often make noises like that...-

The grille that acted as an air vent on the duct crashed to the ground with a clang, along with a figure dressed in black who muttered something in Russian after the tumble.

-Pjotr!- exclaimed Lucky, -You don't know how glad I am to see you, my friend!- -Are you guys ok?- Taking a penknife from his belt he quickly freed them from the ropes: -Nat guided me to you; it wasn't easy since the signal is missing here.- -Yes, we are fine. But we don't have much time- answered Joe. Pjotr handed the black backpack on his shoulder to Luke: -Tell me everything while our friend changes. I think he's sick of high heels.-

Having briefly explained the situation to their friend, Lucky (back in male clothing with trousers, comfortable shoes and a blue pullover) concluded: -We must reach the top of the tower and stop the auction. Mason will not risk the lives of all his guests just to get rid of us.- -And once there? Did you see how many men he has at his disposal- objected Dalton, -There will be at least seven of them in there.- -If I had my gun, I could easily disarm them... But I made a serious mistake: it was in the handbag we lost in that jewellery room, and I doubt it remained there after our failed capture attempt.- -Talk about this?- With a slight sneer, Joe pulled the seven-shot mentioned by the other out from under his jacket. Luke was speechless: -How did you...?- -I hid it along with mine in case we needed it while we were in the lift with Mason. Luckily we weren't searched.- As he watched the former officer's surprised expression, the detective felt a certain satisfaction: it was obvious that the other hadn't expected this.

-Ah, Joe, you're great!!- Lucky hugged him, lifting him off the ground and making a short turn. -Come on, for so little...- he muttered, red in the face. -So little? You just increased our chances of success!- -Ok, OK, but put me down now...- -Guys, wait... We still have a problem- said Pjotr. -What is it?- the other two turned to him in unison. -Even if we manage to disarm the guards, there will be panic among the other guests. Mason could take advantage of the confusion to escape, and do svidaniya.- -He's right, Luke. We must first think of a way to lock him in that room.- -Uhm...- Putting Dalton down, Lucky pondered: -Nat had managed to get into their systems, right?- -Yes, and they haven't found out yet, as far as we know.- -Then let's get out of here and get back in touch with him as soon as possible. Pjotr, are you able to make the reverse route from the shaft to get us out?- -I think so.- -Let's go.- He grabbed the russian from under his arms and helped him up through the vent, and did the same to Joe, who then extended a hand for him to join them. Crawling into the vent, after several attempts the transmitters came back on: -Luke! Joe! Can you hear me? Pjotr!- -Nat!- -Joe! You're alive! I feared the worst! -Mason wanted to take us out quietly. I'll tell you all about it.-

On the top floor of the tower, Mason had the room rearranged to begin the auction. He looked out of a window, thoughtful: he hadn't lied about the items to be sold, he didn't much care who would win them, he just wanted to get rid of them. His father was a collector, but he had raised a businessman, who not only saw beauty but also knew how to evaluate its price. The reflection of one of his men appeared next to his on the surface of the glass: -We are ready sir.- -Good. Start bringing up the pieces, I'll join you in a moment.-

Meanwhile, after crawling through the air shaft for a while, Joe, Lucky and Pjotr managed to return to the outside of the tower, finding themselves behind it in the shelter of some wooden crates. -Nat, here we go. How is it going?- asked Dalton. -Give me a minute. These firewalls are tougher than expected.- -Please hurry up- added Luke, -The auction has already started.

Facing the guests seated in the comfortable padded chairs he had provided, Mason grabbed the microphone that one of his assistants was handing him and placed himself behind a pulpit from where he could beat with his mallet. As he delivered his opening speech, the three infiltrators reached the car park again and, passing between cars, found themselves near the entrance where two armed guards were watching the front door.

-We have to knock them out- whispered Joe. -I'll take care of them; you go to the control room- answered Pjotr. -Are you sure?- -I can do it.- He took some small metal balls from his backpack: -I recovered some equipment.- Lucky nodded: -We'll wait for you there, alright?- -Da. Go now, hurry.- He pressed a small button on the spheres and let them roll to the feet of the guards, who didn't see them until a thick whitish smoke began to come out of the two objects with a hissing noise and a powerful jet, enveloping the two armed men and causing them to cough loudly. The smoke allowed Joe and Luke to run to the other side of the car park, but one of the guards saw someone move and pointed his rifle in their direction. But Pjotr, thanks to the poor visibility, managed to reach him and knock him out by hitting him in the base of the neck with a karate chop, then giving the same treatment to the second guard who didn't understand what was going on and shouted in Russian looking for his colleague. They both found themselves unconscious on the ground; Pjotr quickly tied them up and dragged them to a hidden spot. Meanwhile, Dalton and Lucky had managed to approach the control room, where there was commotion, or so it seemed from the window overlooking the inner courtyard. -Nat, we got to where you told us, but there are at least six men and they seem pretty nervous- whispered Luke. -They're onto me; they're trying to throw me out of the system! Neutralise them, quickly!- With great speed, the two burst into the room, pointing their guns, and the former agent ordered the people present something in Russian. One of the group pulled his weapon out of the holster at his side, but was immediately disarmed by Lucky who repeated the order. Everyone put their hands above their heads.

The first piece, a 16th century painting, went under the hammer: -Sold at number ten for one million dollars!- announced Dorian, -We now move on to the second painting, an authentic Caravaggio that escaped a tragic fire in a German museum...-

Tying the six men up and locking them in a small room, Joe commented: -They are not very combative, are they?- Pjotr rushed up to them: -Guards set up!- -Good.- Luke deactivated the firewalls from the central computer: -What do you say, Nat?- -I'm in. I'm taking control of the main systems.- -We'll head up to the top of the tower.- The ex-agent stepped out and looked up, frowning: -And we're ending the game.-

-Sold at number thirty-four for ten million! -Mason concluded on the fourth beat, -The atmosphere is starting to heat up, gents, don't you think?- -You don't know how much, you scoundrel!- shouted a voice from the loudspeakers in the room. There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Dorian was petrified for a moment: -What the hell?-

-Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. The control of this building is now in my and my friends' hands- continued the voice, as the lift opened to let Lucky and Pjotr into the room with guns drawn; the russian had borrowed a rifle from the guards: -FSB, you are under arrest Mason! For theft and illegal trade in works of art, kidnapping and attempted murder!- Dorian's guards grabbed their guns, but Lucky was quick to disarm them: -Stay back. And don't count on backup, the lift is blocked and the security system compromised. It's over, Dorian, you must surrender.- -You think you have the upper hand?- He slipped a hand under his jacket: -I'll blow up the tower if you two don't surrender instead.- -You won't. At least not as long as you stay up here too. Drop the remote and put your hands behind your head now!- -You don't have the authority, not anymore, to give me orders.- -But I do- said Pjotr again, -So obey.-

The criminal raised his hands, but did not let go of the remote control and instead placed it behind his own head, to prevent its eventual destruction: -Luke, this will not end well, and you know it. I only have to press this button to reduce everything to ashes. Even if by luck you were to survive, I don't think the same would happen to your friends.- -I've also considered that possibility.- Lucky lowered his weapon and held out his other hand, taking a step towards the criminal: -That's why I want to give you the chance to surrender nicely. Give me the remote control and let's get out of here without doing any more damage.- -Are you kidding me?- -Dorian, if you really understood your father's teachings you would not have asked me to kill a man just because he is a nuisance to your business.-

The other guests watched the scene without a word, not daring to make a movement. Pjotr remained motionless, ready at the slightest sign of danger.

-... My father would have accepted an honourable surrender, wouldn't he?- -I think so.- A sinister look appeared on his face: -But I am not my father.- He pressed the button on the remote control with his thumb and released it in a split second. Everyone held their breath, terrified, but nothing happened. Mason hissed: -Your time is down to ten minutes now. Choose, Luke: save your and these people's skins or stop me from escaping.- -Hey.- Joe, coming out of nowhere, tapped him on the side with his index finger: -You haven't considered that I'm there, too.- Quickly, he jumped on him and tackled him to the ground, fastening the cuffs on his wrists.

-Where did you come from?!?- Mason looked to his right: his bodyguards were piled up in a human mountain, dazed and moaning in pain. One had a clearly visible black eye. -You were too focused on Luke to notice me, weren't you? Air ducts are good shortcuts, and the one under the floor was very useful.-

-Pjotr, let's get these people out; you in the front row take the unconscious guards, and proceed calmly. Don't panic.- -Nat, the lift!- -Right away, Pjotr.- The hacker opened the sliding doors, and at a brisk pace, but without running, the first people entered the passenger compartment. One of them, however, turned around: -There is a crate of artwork there, what will happen to it if it all blows up?- -And the bunker??- added another, -There are other treasures down there!- -The bunker might withstand a nuclear attack...- mumbled Mason, -But everything will end up under the rubble anyway. And the crates are made of steel...- -Don't think about that now, you must get away!- insisted Lucky. The doors closed again.

-How much longer, Nat?- Joe asked. -You have eight minutes and fifty seconds to get out of there!-

Dorian took advantage of the detective's distraction to shake him off and attempt to run towards the lift, but Luke blocked him by tackling him to the wall with an arm at his throat: -Don't you dare.- -It's no use, you know? You won't leave this place alive...- -Eight minutes and thirty seconds!- -After they are all out it will be our turn. There's time.- -I don't think so...-

-Guys, there's a problem!- exclaimed Nat. -What problem?- -More guards are coming to the ground floor, I can see them from the cameras. They are letting people out of the tower; there are at least fifteen of them and they are well armed!- -Damn it...- Lucky muttered, -Don't give them time to get up there, ok?- -Roger.- -What's going on?- Dalton asked. -What, you didn't hear?- -I lost my earpiece because of this guy.- -We got company. We need a plan.- -How many?- -Fifteen men and as many guns.- -Let's use the lift doors for protection- Pjotr suggested, -We should be sheltered, no?- -You won't make it...- Mason hissed again. The sliding doors opened again, and the detective sent the second group of guests into the passenger compartment.

-We're up next... Nat!- -Seven and fifty minutes, Luke!- -If only the air shaft wasn't so narrow here, we could have used it as an alternative route and avoided a confrontation- commented Joe. -We have no choice.- Lucky removed his arm, dropping Dorian onto the floor: -You're lucky I'm not the type of person to use hostages as a shield.- -Too bad, there would have been fun to be had.- -Joe, Pjotr, take the crate with the paintings and seal it. It should hold, and in case we can retrieve it later.- The two nodded; Nat made himself heard again: -Seven minutes and twenty!- The lift returned.

-Everybody inside, come on!- Dragging their prisoner by weight, the group gathered in the cockpit, checking that their weapons were loaded and ready. -Guys, they're trying to cut me off again! Two men left and headed for the control room!- the hacker announced. -So there are thirteen left...- exhaled Pjotr. -Thirteen, huh?- The detective inserted the full cartridge into his own gun: -My lucky number.-

The armed men occupied every corner of the lobby. They had a good view of the lift doors; all that remained was for them to wait for the intruders, since all the guests had already been evacuated from the place. It was less than seven minutes before the explosion that their leader had largely anticipated.

The lift doors, which came rattling slightly, opened just a crack, and they pointed their rifles. They did not immediately realise that the barrel of an old pistol peeped through the crack; when they heard the sound of a shot, they jumped, but no one seemed to be hurt. However, shortly afterwards two men exclaimed expletives in Russian, and their rifles shattered in their hands. Someone started firing towards the lift, but another shot from inside the cabin disarmed another pair of soldiers in the same way as the previous ones.

-There are nine left!- exclaimed Joe peeking through the crack, loudly to drown out the deafening sound of bullets on metal. -Time's running out, cover me!- Luke replied, going to hit another rifle. Without letting it be repeated twice, Dalton took aim and sideswiped one of the men outside, who flinched, allowing the ex-agent to disarm him: -Minus eight!-

-You have five and a half minutes to leave!- Nat exclaimed into his earphones. Retreating to the shelter of the lift doors, Luke looked at Joe: -We have to risk a sortie.- -I've got your back.- -No. You stay behind with Pjotr and Mason.- -But...-

A second burst of shots rang out, and the russian looked up: -If I survive, I swear I will double my housekeeper's salary!- -You can't do this alone, Luke!- -I can, Joe, if I can borrow your gun. How many bullets you got left?- -Five, I think.- -Good. As soon as the doors open, you and Pjotr run for the exit with Dorian, I'll keep them busy.- -Forget it, I'm not leaving you behind!- -Five minutes!- insisted the hacker. -Joe, I'll catch up with you as soon as I can, but you have to go.- -Sure, those little plugs slip through people's fingers!- Mason said nastily, immediately shushed by the ex-agent: -Shut your mouth!-

-Guys, don't waste time arguing!- -Okay, Nat. On my signal, open the doors, all the way. Joe, if they try to stop you, don't hesitate to hit them hard.- -Sure...- -The gun, Joe.- The detective hesitantly handed him the weapon: -Are you ambidextrous?- -Yes. - -I never would have guessed... Hey, Luke.- -Hmm?- -Whatever happens, I want you to know... it's been a pleasure getting dragged into this mess with you.- -Mutual feeling.- -If we get out of this alive...- -We'll get out of this. And I promise I'll teach you how to dance, Joe.- -What??- -You heard me.- He smiled at him, reassuringly. -Oh, my goodness, get a room, you two...- Dorian muttered.

Lucky stood with his back against one wall of the cockpit, raising his guns: -Let's take a breath, gentlemen: we will remember this action for the rest of our days.- -If you can make it...- continued their prisoner, who was grabbed firmly by Pjotr so that he was on his feet and ready to run. -As soon as they stop firing... Nat, on my go you must open the doors as I told you. Are you there?- -Whenever you want.- The hail of bullets gradually ceased; let another two seconds pass Luke exhaled: -Go!-

When the doors opened, to the amazement of the men outside who had not yet finished reloading their rifles, Joe and Pjotr sprinted out, taking Mason with them, while Lucky, appealing to all his coolness and concentration, quickly aimed and fired at the soldiers' guns, which ended up with pieces of useless scrap metal in their hands. Dalton barely heard the pauses between shots, so quickly they had followed each other; an untrained ear could have been fooled and reduced the sound to a single shot.

At that point, some soldiers approached their opponent cautiously but also threateningly, while three others, who had remained behind, threw themselves in pursuit of the fugitives. Dorian noticed this, and purposely let himself fall forward to try and slow down the other two, but the detective grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him back up: -Oh no, you don't!- Pjotr pointed his rifle at their pursuers and shouted something in Russian, making them stop. They were only a few steps away from the entrance.

One by one, the men who had surrounded Lucky tried to beat him in hand-to-hand combat, but he managed to hold them off by dodging and striking back relying on some exceptional legwork. Nat announced that it was now four minutes until the explosion, so Pjotr, continuing to hold the three at gunpoint, turned to Dalton, stepping to the side: -Get Mason to the car, quick!- Dragging the prisoner by weight, Joe managed to carry him out; the russian walking backwards followed him, and so did their pursuers in an attempt to recover their leader. Luke meanwhile tried to make his way to the entrance, but as he knocked out one opponent immediately another stood before him.

Suddenly, a frightening roar went through the air; the detective had just reached the car with Dorian when that sound made him turn sharply and look upwards: the top of the tower had exploded, and in the flames chunks of concrete were coming down.

-No...We still had time...- -I must have miscalibrated the timers!- Mason said with a cackling laugh. Joe pushed him unceremoniously into the back seat, while Pjotr, seeing that the three soldiers had run away, got into the driver's seat and started the engine.

-Wait, where's Luke??- -I don't know!-

Another roar made them gasp.

-I'm not leaving without him!!- -We must get away or we will be swept away by the rubble!- -You go, I have to find him!- Dalton got out of the car and ran back. -Is he crazy?? He's gonna kill himself!!-

Joe ran with all the speed he was capable of, but the explosions followed relentlessly, filling the air with smoke and debris, cancelling out all sounds, until they reached the ground floor. The detective was knocked backwards by the shockwave like a straw; Pjotr was forced to move away so as not to be swept away in turn, but the blast still managed to jolt the car during the short run to the outside of the area.

Dalton, dazed, had ended up lying on the floor, face up. Gradually recovering, his vision blurred and a dreadfully high-pitched ringing in his ears, he tried to pull himself up to sit up, slowly. Automatically, he touched his head with his hand; when his surroundings came back into focus, he gasped for breath: the burning rubble was all that remained of the building, and high swirls of smoke made the air heavy. -Luke...- he murmured, rising slowly. He staggered for a moment, then tried again in a slightly louder voice: -Luke... Luke!- He began to wander through the piles of debris, calling with all the breath he had: -Luke!!! Where are you!? Answer me!!- Pjotr turned back with the car; he almost tripped over a stone: -Bozhe moy...- -Luke!!- Running from one side of the devastated place to the other, the detective rummaged everywhere in search of his missing friend. In Paris, Nat had been paralysed to helplessly witness the disaster, and stood waiting, terrified and with a lump in his throat.

Joe did not rest, he kept calling and digging through the debris with his hands, scraping his knuckles. Pjotr stood looking at him discouraged for a while before reaching out and trying to give him a hand in his desperate search. -You can't do this to me!- Dalton began to rant, -And not to your family either! Not now that it's over! Do you understand?!? Luke!- -Joe...- tried to say the russian, as the other moved on to a new pile: -You can't be dead! I refuse to believe it!- Pjotr caught up with him but did not dig in: -Joe.- -You are the luckiest man in the world, you can't be dead like this!- He grabbed what looked like a piece of ceiling with all his might, but there was nothing underneath. The other laid a hand on his shoulder: -I'm afraid that instead...- -No!- he growled, turning towards him: -He's here somewhere, I'm sure!- A moment of silence passed, and the detective's aggressive expression turned into a more pained one: -He can't be dead... You understand? He... He must return to Paris... With me... I promised...-

The russian lowered his gaze, gloomy, when a noise caught his attention: -But what...- He turned sharply to his right; debris was moving on its own above a pile of flat ceiling pieces. Dalton looked in the same direction, eyes wide, then ran at the sight of a hand emerging from the rubble waving for a grip, a hand followed by an arm wrapped in the tattered sleeve of a blue pullover.

[diavorchid]

Vyn Richter vs. Jack Seward

finally let myself sit down, think, and write this :D thanks @gabriel-shutterson for the vindication

here goes:

a) obvious:

doctor/psychiatrist

do a journal entry each day with a voice recorder

Jack owns a private asylum at 29 and Vyn (co-)owns a research & treatment centre at 27; both owning their own foundation at a young age

i think they're both still doing research? Vyn is a professor and Jack did want to make a breakthrough to help people

b) deeper:

Vyn's trope is love at the first sight. Jack falls in love with anyone in 5m radius that stays with him lol

...submissive. Jack "in our old adventures, quincey gave instructions and (arthur and) i followed" Seward and Vyn 2nd Anniversary SSR for the obvious one (tho it's always been there..👀)

there's this theme of Jack trying to prevent himself going on a path bc he knows it's where madness lies, he even questions he may even be mad; in Vyn top-up ssr iirc he has a friend who killed themselves and that friend loved their partner so much that it turned him possessive and hurt them, Vyn was shaken by this and afraid of what his love could become.

related to prev point, Jack's way of doing things is risky and sometime even borderline dangerous when he gives in to his curiosity; there's this conversation between Vyn and Darius in his PS Ch.3 where Darius disagreed with Vyn's way bringing MC to a dangerous PUA. [ss below] like, for both, the inclination is there.

difficulty in showing vulnerable side; Jack, in text, dictates men this women that but his actions shows that it's as if he's clinging desperately to follow that notion while fighting back his emotions, which eventually gets let out either way (worth nothing that what we've read is watered down, filtered version; and it still shows); early Vyn was.. let's talk about False Tears. i still think the best interpretation is, yes the emotion is there, and yes he exaggerates it to be comforted, BUT! only because he didn't think he deserved to be comforted (i dont think i explain this well but i can't remember where to find the old thread that actually did lol sorry). also, you know his worldview on broken things that got challenged in <Mended Hearts>? i do think it stems from his vulnerability and helplessness at his own incapability to help.

c) misc.:

early fandom experience is more or less the same lmaoo. oh to be a vyn stan at the start (~first 3 months was severe lol then again there are still. some. yk.) of tot glb... (it wasn't fun)

...daddy issues. vyn is canon while jack is (stolen) hc in the way that a lot of things about his character would make sense

crack time but they would not get along if they ever meet. only surface politeness.

they're both good with their hands; Jack with lock-picking and Vyn with crafting.

lastly, I'd say that before that modern au Jack would be close to Vyn in likeliness, but will never be like him because Vyn's self-confident and while he exudes a poor little meow meow vibes a bit, Jack's too much of a wet cat pathetic man.

---

may or may not add things later (probably no bc this is alr my 2nd time writing this, the other one somehow got lost😭); as expected I'm not eloquent enough to write this kind of things lmao

(ps. i saw your edit on the ask reblog, and don't worry i didn't even think to include that and don't really consider it to be comparison(?))

[tamagochiie]

when the rumbling came; erwin smith

pairing. Erwin Smith x Fem!reader 

synopsis. You were tired of work, of people, and of life treating you poorly. You quickly came to the conclusion that if you were going to end your life, now would probably be a good time as any. 

word count. 3.36k

tags + warnings. TRIGGER WARNING! depression, attempted to attempt suicide, reader being completely dead inside (metaphorically), modern!au, office!au (just a pinch), angst, comfort/fluff, 

notes. I don’t romanticize depression or suicide. Writing is my way of coping and dealing with everything that’s going on right now; don’t worry, I’m okay, really I am. So, this one shot is more or less self indulgent. Please, if you you’re going through some hardships don’t hesitate to reach out for help. My inbox is also free, and I’m always willing to listen. 

You had alway built yourself in a firm foundation made of rocks, that nothing could ever shake you and even if it did, you’d snap back like an elastic band. But very recently, very, very recently, you’ve been living on a faultline and for a while now there’d be tremors - nothing strong enough to shake you, though. 

But your foundation soon turned into sand as the weeks came by and stress came to you in waves. The little tremors eventually turned into big ones. You found yourself swaying, crumbling, and now you were barely reaching the end of the week without falling to your knees and weeping, your pleas for mercy hung in the air, right in your face as if it were mocking you. 

The home you had built for yourself had fallen into rubble and nothing could protect you. 

Nothing could save you from all the wind and rain, and quite frankly, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to be saved. Being saved meant continuing on, meant trudging through the fight and you had no more fight left in you. 

So there you sat, on the very edge of the roof of your office building with your feet dangling. Night life in the city glimmered and glowed, completely ignorant to you suffering. But it looked nice and you found yourself thankful because at least life was kind enough to give you one last “good” view before you did the deed. 

I’d just have to scoot and I’d be on my way to the pavement, you thought idly. 

You weren’t even scared, and maybe that’s what scared you, that you were completely okay with ending it here. That you didn’t even bat an eye when the idea came into your head while you bought yourself a sandwich during your lunch break. 

It kinda felt easy like solving 1+1.

So maybe it was your calmness that scared you. Maybe it's the fact that once you had made up your mind, you had been set as if you were picking out clothes for the next day kind of set. 

You swung your feet, feeling yourself scooch closer to the edge and your heart didn’t even race - not even a flutter.

You craned your neck back to look at the sky, not a single star in sight. You heavily sighed and played with your hands while you teared up and eventually cried. All the burdens you carried, the responsibilities you shouldered, and the insecurities you kept close to your heart flooded out of you in one single, painstaking sob. 

Your chest heaved and your voice cracked as you screamed into a void, knowing you’d never be heard over all the honking and clamouring from the city beneath you. 

“I dunno who's listening,” You croak to the night, your throat dry from all the crying, “but if I’m not supposed to die tonight, can you give me a sign...or something? Like, send someone out here to do a handstand or something. If - If there’s like, any sliver of hope I have left or whatever...If I’m not supposed to end here, then just do that because I really dunno if I’m supposed to hang on anymore...” 

You never prayed a single prayer in your life, maybe just once when you were wavering in your ability to attain such a fine job as this, or when both your parents fell ill and you were left alone to fend for yourself. But other than that, you more or less suffered silently, cried to yourself when you needed to, and pulled yourself out of trouble. 

It was late into the night, so the prayer was already silly to begin with. Everyone had gone home and you made sure of it because you hid in the bathroom until the lights turned off and the floor of your office was completely silent. 

And the more you thought about it, as you imagined yourself hiding in that bathroom like a dumbass, you felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

Well, it wasn’t like you were going to be alive to bear it into tomorrow morning anyway. 

You flinched at the sudden sound of the fire exit creaking open, the metal scratching against the pavement. You turned your head and squinted at the shadows and the little light provided by the exit sign. 

“Hello?” You called out to the shadows and flinched when you saw it move, heedlessly pulling yourself away from the edge as you leaned back to take a closer look. 

You gasped lowly as a familiar, rather burly figure emerged from the darkness. It was your boss, Mr. Smith, who had his eyes widen in surprise, as if he was shocked to have actually found someone on the roof. 

He narrowed his gaze on you and wore a tight lip as he studied you intently. He stayed near the fire exit, hand in the pocket of his clean cut slacks while the other hung by his side. 

You had sworn everyone had gone home. 

Not everyone, you supposed. 

“Can I help you?” You asked through your sniffling, but Mr. Smith kept quiet; the silence grew to be quite awkward the longer he stood there. 

After a few beats, he stepped forward, rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt before he ran his fingers through his hair. A tremulous breath escaped his lips as he spun on the heels of his shoes, facing the wall. 

You cocked your head, blinking owlishly at him. And in one, fluid motion, with little to no effort, he bent down to lean onto his hands and kicked his feet up to the air, leaning against the wall for support. 

He did a handstand. 

What? 

You would be laughing if you weren’t in the state you were in. 

Mr. Smith was still looking directly at you as he stood on his hands, his clothes bunched up beneath his chin while his face burned red from the sudden rush of blood to his head.  

All you could do was leave your mouth hanging open, blinking at him in bewilderment. 

With a faint grunt, Mr. Smith brought his feet back to the ground and pushed himself off his hands. He brushed his hands together to dust away the dirt before he looked back to you as he ran his hands down the creases of his vest. 

“Before you say anything,” He spoke, his voice deep and velvety, “I have absolutely no idea why I did that, but there was a little voice in my head that told me to.” 

You licked your lips and stayed quiet, still taking in what had just happened. 

“But my question is,” He began, “are you okay?”

“Do I look like I’m okay?” You spat, but you bit your tongue and cleared your throat when you realized who you were talking to. “Sorry,” You quietly muttered, twisting yourself back to look at the building in front of you. 

You listened as the footsteps behind you drew closer, ultimately coming to a quiet halt. 

“Mind if I join you?” He dipped his head down to look at you and you glanced at him in the corner of your eye, shrugging your shoulders. 

Mr. Smith took the spot beside you and swung his feet over the ledge, mirroring the way you sat before digging his hand back into his pocket to pull out a packet of cigarettes. 

“You got a lighter?” He asked, sticking a cigarette between his lips. You shook your head, amazed at his nonchalant demeanor. “That’s okay, I’ve got one.” 

You watched him with a puzzled look as he lit his cigarette and blew a smoke. 

It was pretty obvious what you were trying to do; your eyes were red and looked sore, your cheeks stained with tears, and not to mention you were setting on the ledge of a build without your shoes on. 

How was he so calm?

“I’ve seen you around the office,” He recalled, blowing a few more smokes before he turned to you, “you look like a hard worker.” 

“Depends on how you define ‘hard worker’,” You mumbled. Mr. Smith brought the cigarette in front of you as if signaling you to take it. You do. “I’m more of a half-assed worker that’s just ebbing and flowing bullshit just to get the job done so I can go home and wallow in self-pity in silence.” 

He chuckled. It sounded sweet. 

“So why are you sitting on the ledge?” 

You drew out a smoke. 

“I don’t wanna live anymore.” You deadpanned. “I hate my life and I hate that it’s fucked me in the ass -” You blew another smoke before passing it back to Mr. Smith, your body a lot more calmer and your mind unfiltered, “ - without even my consent.” 

“I don’t blame you,” He said earnestly, and it shocked you. The golden boy who strolled up and down the office floors with his chest out, head held high, and a smile that made every woman’s knees go weak was agreeing with you. His eyes looked like it held all the hope and promise in the world, yet he was agreeing with you.“But are you sure you wanna do that? What if life gets better?” 

You snickered though no trace of amusement on your face. 

“I’ve been living on ‘what ifs’, Mr. Smith,” You pointed out plainly, “I’m not about to keep going. What’s the point of living on ‘what ifs’ when nothing happens? At the end of the day, I’m just an idiot that keeps thinking, ‘What if today’s better?’, ‘What if there’s a new flavor of ice cream that’s been released and it turns out to be my favorite?’ -- it’s stupid.” 

“What if your boss gives you a raise?” He smirked at you playfully but you only rolled your eyes. “What? It was worth a try.” 

“Your try was shit.” 

“What about if you tried a different approach?” 

“Look, Mr. Smith,” You sighed in annoyance and snatched the cigarette from his hand and propped it between your lips, “I don’t have a lot of fight left in me, okay? I’ve tried, I failed. That’s it. So, would you just leave me to do what I need to do? Please?” 

“If you wanted to kill yourself, you would’ve done it by now.” 

You threw him a sour look, offended that he didn’t think you could do it. 

But why would you be upset about that? 

“You don’t know me.” You muttered.

“I know well enough that if you wanted to call quits, you wouldn’t have sat here for nearly an hour, praying for a sign.” 

“You heard?” 

He nodded. 

“You lied!” You raised your voice and without giving it much thought, you punched him in the arm. “You said you didn’t know why you came up here!” 

“Oh, I didn’t,” He calmly argued. “Not completely, anyway. I saw you go up when I was on my way out. When I noticed you didn’t take your things, not even your phone, I had a gut feeling it was something bad.” 

“I waited for a little while,” He explained, “I thought that maybe you wanted some fresh air, but the longer I waited, the more worried I got. So I went up the steps just to check on you, and your voice...did you know your voice carries well in the stairwell? I heard your voice, small and completely detached from life. Even then, you were asking for help, and how could I refuse?”

“Do you make it a point to get into other people’s business?” 

“Only when they’re trying to take their life.”  

“And now what?” You sounded detached and uninterested, and he didn’t blame you for it. He never spoke to you outside of meetings or work, not even once. Of course his words wouldn’t have any impact. “Are you gonna tell me not to go through with it, talk me down or something? You gonna tell me ‘If you can’t live for yourself, then live for me’? That kinda dumb shit?” 

He shook his head, a faint pout on his lips. Despite your mocking tone, Mr. Smith remained calm and didn’t take it personally. Though you kinda wish he did, so he could leave you alone.

“No, nothing like that....” Mr. Smith weighed his options, choosing his next words and his next approach carefully.

He’s been here before and he falls into shallow thought, remembering all the things he didn’t do and see if he could do it now.  

“I - I’ve been both on both ends of the situation, I just -” Mr. Smith sighed heavily, as he rubbed his hands together, “- I didn’t do anything last time, so - so when I saw you I thought maybe I could somehow make up for it.” 

“That kinda sounds shitty,” You pointed out. 

It was indeed a shitty thing that you were somehow being used to clear a conscience, but you understood where his heart was at.  It was nice that he was trying - it was nice that someone had noticed. 

But that’s all that it was for you: it was just nice. 

“I’m just so fucking tired,” You admitted, your eyes stinging with fresh tears. You tilted your head back to keep it from spilling, but like all of your attempts at anything, you failed. “I’m so fucking tired of being tired, and nothing’s going right. I’ve tried different approaches, changing my mindset. I even did all these stupid Pinterest self-help boards, but that didn’t help either. I’m desperately grasping for straws and I’ve finally decided to just...stop.” 

You rolled your head, looking at your boss with lifeless eyes and it terrified him. He didn’t know what to say - not then and most certainly not now. But what does anyone say to a person who’s given up all hope and interest in living? 

You seemed to have made up your mind and Mr. Smith worried that he’d have another life in his hands. He didn’t want that and he found himself growing desperate. 

He liked you, whether it be a co-worker or something else, he liked seeing you around the office. You were smart and though you looked soft spoken, you most certainly weren’t. You never ceased to amaze him with the things you submitted, so he truly wondered why you felt so inadequate. 

Mr. Smith couldn’t help but blame himself for not paying attention.

“I say don’t die,” He said rather confidentiality, and you furrowed your brows at this. He was becoming persistent in his meddling. “I say wait it out another day or week, and then if you really wanna, fine. I’ll even leave the emergency exit unlocked for you.” 

You widened your eyes, your mouth parted but not a single sound came out. 

���Why should I wait when I can do it right now?” 

“Because of the ‘what ifs’.” 

You grunted. 

“I already told you --” 

“Yes, but what if I tried to help you?” 

“I’m not going to be your charity case, Mr. Smith,” You chastised. “I’d rather die than be your charity case.” 

“You won’t be,” He said rather calmly. A small smile crept across his lips and his eyes twinkled against the faint glow of the city lights. “You’ll be my friend and I, too, need a friend.” 

“Mr. Smith --” 

“Call me Erwin.” 

You cleared your throat. You felt embarrassed to say the least. You opened your mouth and found it weird when you spoke his name. You didn’t like it, but it was something you could get used to. 

“Why would you wanna be my friend?” 

“Because life’s fucked me in the ass without my consent, too.” It was weird hearing something so crass coming from the poster boy of perfection and all things pure. You almost thought you’d completely lost it and had imagined he ever said it. “And I heard that suffering with someone makes the experience a little less painful and a little more bearable. So, won’t you be my friend and suffer with me?” 

Mr. Smith noticed your hesitance, even more so when he held his left hand out for you to take. It felt formal like he was trying to close a business deal or something. It was a bit weird. 

“You’re not gonna be my reason for living,” You said, letting his hand awkwardly hang in the air. But he didn’t bother to retract it. “I’m not looking for a savior.” 

“You’re looking for your strength and so am I, so let’s just look together and see what we find, mm?” 

You looked at him, studied him. Why did he care so much, and why did you want to know? 

After all, you did ask for a sign, yet here you were being stubborn and pretending as if you hadn’t seen it at all. You didn’t believe in miracles or spectacular alignments of the universe, but when you took his hand, you felt a warmth of reassurance - a sense of peace. 

Suddenly, with a high pitch yelp from your lips, Mr. Smith quickly moved his left hand and wrapped it over you and pulled you down with him as he threw himself back onto the pavement behind you. His right hand cushioned your blow and he winced in pain when he caught you. 

You found yourself tightly gripping onto the material of his sleeve when you took a peak to check on Mr. Smith. He was looking down at you, a nervous smile plastered across his face. 

You shoved him off, muttering to yourself as you patted yourself down. 

“That was uncalled for.” You grumbled. 

“How would I know? You would’ve changed your mind for all I know.” 

“I took your hand!” You chided. “That was basically me saying, ‘Okay, I’ll be your friend’! What if you had thrown yourself forward instead!” 

“But I didn’t.” He replied calmly, a smile, one that irked you completely, pulled the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, but what if you had?” 

“But I didn’t.”

He stood up from the floor and patted the dust and dirt of his pants before reaching down to help you up from the ground. 

“Thank you for being my friend,” Mr. Smith grinned. “I promise you won’t regret it.” 

You rolled your eyes as he kept his hold around your hand, shaking it. 

“Your promises don’t mean much to me.” 

 It had been months since your moment on the rooftop with Erwin. Though he had been keen, inviting you out for lunch, for dinner, and spared some time for small talk in passing, you were still walking on eggshells, especially because you worried that it might’ve looked unprofessional. 

But really, no one cared as much as you did. Everyone had just assumed Erwin was just being kind. But still, it gave you more stress than it did comfort you, and though you had spat a few unkind words his way, he never left. 

He always came back with a bright smile and offerings, whether it were candies or actual food. 

Eventually, you eased in and you were no longer agitated. You found yourself looking forward to Erwin’s occasional visits to your desk or when he’d ask you out for some coffee. 

At the end of every day Erwin would never miss a beat and would ask you how you were doing, and it never felt performative or forced. He was warm and genuine, and he’d share his burdens with you, too. 

And you found yourself realizing that he was right, that struggling with someone made things a little less painful and a little more bearable. That despite the struggle, knowing someone so patient and understanding, would be there to catch you. 

“Hey,” You spoke over the rim of your freshly brewed tea as you sat across the little round table of the coffee shop. Erwin’s eyes flicked up at you as he took a bite of his muffin. “Thanks,” 

He raised a brow and cocked his head to the side, “What for?” He asked, his words muffled by his stuffed mouth. 

“Thanks for being my friend.” 

He smiled, a few crumbs falling from his lips and onto his plate. 

“Thank you for being mine.” 

[brooklynislandgirl]

📸 (If you'd like! <3 Seems like modern's the best here, unless she wants to draw him for historical lol.)

I see your face every time I dream || Accepting

[brooklynislandgirl]

"Maybe not contortionist but definitely a decade or more of yoga under my belt and some double joints." Ben likely meant it as a rhetorical question but she felt the tiniest bit of pride in herself for the structure, the discipline, and yes, being able to tease him about it. She does feel his confession is sweet but doesn't point out that for some strange reason, she is quite the opposite. Plants and animals always thrive around her. "I'll keep your secret." She time-shares between his face and his hands, the corners of her lips twitching as she fights off an appreciative smile. She recognises the movements if not the final product. Some day she might tell him about the thousands of cranes she made once upon a time. She finds his commitment to books, the enthusiasm for Dumas, endearing beyond explanation. Bites back the urge to say that most serial murderers are. "My question is how you kept yourself from smothering him in his sleep. I mean that's pretty egregious a crime. Right up there with Andy-" Beth stops herself short. She hoards memories of her brother like the greediest of dragons. "Maybe I'm basic, but my favourite was always Henry V. Macbeth of course, oh and the Tempest!" She half lowers her lids and gently clears her throat. "Not a soul but felt a fever of the mad, and played some tricks of desperation. All but mariners plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, then all afire with me. The King's son Ferdinand, with hair upstaring then like reed, not hair- was the first man that leaped; cried 'Hell is empty, and all the devils are here'...." Once quoting Ariel, she chuckles with a hint of shyness in her tone if not features. "But...I'll take your background into consideration and absolve you of blame because...your dad." The blossom smiles fully, showing him hints of teeth and crinkles at the corners of her nose. Maybe it's the story of his mother. The sweetness and kindness of a woman sharing art with her son. Maybe it's the idea that they in turn encouraged their son to bring brightness to sick children. Beth always lauds paediatrics and the work done for children, has a soft spot for people who care about kids. "Has anyone ever told you how wonderful you are?" The question holds not a single trace of sarcasm. The sound of his laughter and the way it shapes his face sinks down into the pit of her belly and warms her through the core of her being. "I don't believe you've ever had a bad hair day. And I think letting it be a little longer than average is totally a power-move. Huge part of your rizz, as the kids say." Despite every urge to lean across the space between them and help him mop up is strong, she also knows that the last thing he needs is an extra pair of hands. It doesn't stop another laugh from escaping her, more sympathetic than mocking, and has her muttering a gentle apology between the delicate wind chime sound.

It's his turn to enjoy her own mirth tinted surprise. Delicate fingers splay out to cover her lips but the subsequent snerking sound is anything but graceful. Her lips tremble and a blush leeches into her face. Half a heartbeat later she does rake him with a smouldering look from his mouth to his knees then back. "That would be such a tragedy." She can't help but twitch when he jerks. A sense of guilt rises up to cushion the not quite bruised feelings further softened by understanding. Andy used to complain about her tactile nature but never enough to break her of the habit. What she wasn't expecting though is that he then returns the touch with one of his own, or how she finds herself wanting him to do it again. A ghost of his thumb lingers. Then is given company by his other and she can't help but notice how easy it feels, how natural, to be held between them. "I don't disagree, though sometimes... It's hard to keep that in mind when it feels like you're driving in the dark without a road-map." She's only vaguely aware of the intimate portrait they create remaining so close, so intertwined ~the side of her knee now nudges the space between his, only a little more space than their hands. Within the moment, Beth finds herself wondering if it would be so bad if she simply became Ellie forever. She smiles as he answers her with a refreshing honesty not depicting himself as a silver-tongued Casanova as many would without fear of being caught out. That makes Ben much more charming and that much more human. Relatable. She harbours no ill-will toward the historical Jess for bringing Ben good memories to look back on, for helping him figure some part of himself out. There are other things though that bloom into desire; to know how or why it had ended. What did he take forward from it, what helped him survive the heartbreak even if he had been the one to instigate it all. Had she gotten on with his family? Had his brother welcomed her at the very least? But Ben isn't a novel and she isn't entitled to answers. Maybe if he brings it up some day, then she'll have more solid ground from which to ask. Her other hand lifts. Past the swan/crane, past the drying drops of coffee on the table. Her wrist brushes his cheek and brings with it the faintest hint of something sweetly floral. She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "My wish for you, then, is that if and when you feel it again, and you will...you deserve to, that is brings you just as much happiness, just as much tenderness."

"Bendy? Am I dealing with a contortionist here?" Chuckling, Ben pulled a napkin from the dispenser at their side, then absently started folding it into the shape of a triangle. "As for my 'pisceside,' it's wholly innocent. I can't seem to keep anything alive for more than a couple weeks."

Keeping his eyes on his "hard work," Ben kept folding until his napkin resembled a kite. He hummed along at Ellie's alleged "short list," pleased with her choices. However, once she mentioned one of his own personal favorites, he could no longer remain silent. "Oh, Dumas!" he exclaimed, pleased. "I, too, was fond of The Count of Monte Cristo growing up. It was actually on a different summer reading list than mine, but I decided to...well...read all of the assigned materials for every different course level." He scrunched his nose, purposely crossing his eyes. "Did I mention I was an odd child? In fact, I recall Samuel teasing me by intentionally pronouncing Dumas 'dumbass.' The inference with that one was pretty clear."

Chuckling, Ben pulled up the thinner end of his napkin to reflect a neck shape. "As for me, you're probably unsurprised to hear I'm a fan of Shakespeare. Twelfth Night and The Taming of the Shrew are my favorites, though I've often revisited Othello and The Merchant of Venice, as well." Creating a Z-shaped crease, Ben continued folding with verve, never lifting his eyes. "Anyway, I suppose I should share something modern that I enjoy...Tolkien and Gaiman are certainly good choices -- I enjoyed Stardust -- and I also love C.S. Lewis. My father's a preacher, so sue me."

Finished with his fiddling, Ben set an origami swan down in front of Ellie, pleased that the napkin hadn't been so flimsy that it couldn't retain its shape. "I also had a craft-loving mother who taught me a number of things to while away the hours -- when I was around fifteen, my dad would take me to the local children's hospital so I could teach the kids to make these. I've made hundreds, so I could probably create them in my sleep."

When Ellie spoke of glamor being responsible for masking her "inner troll," Ben laughed, his eyes crinkling warmly around the edges. "Well, remind me to give you a call on my bad hair days, because your glamor is really working." Though once she referred to his flaming sword, he'd tragically been taking a sip of coffee. The quip caused him to backwash into his mug, nearly slopping the dark liquid over said pull-over.

Using a fresh napkin to wipe up the mess, he grinned, sheepish and eyes shining. "I've never refused a dare in all my life, El, so those are dangerous words... Though whether for you or myself, it still remains to be seen." Setting his coffee off to the side -- better to be safe than sorry -- he wryly agreed, "I may do the occasional sit-up, but I certainly don't have a washboard going on under there, and I have to disappoint you by saying the sword isn't flaming. Otherwise, it'd burn a hole right through my slacks."

Ben didn't want to talk about "the other girl." High school growing pains were precisely that: pains, and none he wished to relive despite them mostly being harmless. Instead, he focused on the gentle movement of Ellie's mouth, soft and supple, and shining with the remnants of her own beverage. A part of him wished to wipe it away -- to cup her face, to hold her hand -- but the deeper these thoughts traversed, the more he physically curled away from the idea. Or rather, until Ellie reached for his hand of her own accord.

At first he jerked, startled by the contact, before idly skimming his thumb over the ridge of her knuckles. Ben listened to her speak, but just like before, his eyes kept darting toward her mouth, taking note of how hushed her words were and how this time, there was a mournful tension in her lips, almost as if she were physically trying to swallow back the confession.

Lonely? Yes -- yes, yes, he was lonely too. Unbidden, he curled his free hand over top of their interlocked ones, gently squeezing. "Those impulses aren't always wrong," Ben softly offered. "Sometimes, we're drawn to certain people for a purpose...out of fate."

Ellie remained curved toward him, edging closer still. Her eyes locked with his own, and a peculiar tickle formed in the pit of his stomach, much like the freefall on a rollercoaster, or momentarily losing one's balance. And then she asked that, and God above, his purposeful thoughts came grinding to a halt.

"I've...yes," Ben stammered, his mouth dry. "Once." Why had he admitted that? Wincing, he somehow kept his eyes on her face, a bloom of pink curling along the edge of his cheeks. "Her name was Jess. We met my first year of college, and she was just so...different. She never told me I was strange, and she actually seemed interested in everything I had to say. I'd never really had that before." Smiling, a hint of shyness bled into his gaze. "She had this cute little quirk where she'd play with her bangs any time she wanted to kiss me. I'm not sure why that was a correlation, but once she started fidgeting, I was compelled to reach for some breath mints."

Expression softening, Ben lifted his head more fully, appraising Ellie with a gentle openness. "I can't describe what she made me feel...just that when I was with her, I felt safe and free to be myself. I never thought I'd feel that way again." The unspoken words until you came along lingered on the tip of his tongue, incomplete and needling him, burning him to the quick.

[maadorii]

you’re gonna wanna be my best friend— y. itadori x gn! reader

max.note’s: this is my child, my baby and i love it. probably my favorite fic i’ve ever wrote uwu i think the ending is bit rushed but that’s i was writing this at 4am (i’m also trying out a new layout-ish so yea) 

synopsis—where you and Itadori came up with the greatest, yet stupidest idea in your lives: getting married to lower your tuition cost. what could go wrong? well, there’s getting caught by the government, and then there’s potentially falling in love with your best friend. 

warning/tags: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, characters aged up (18+), high school/college au, modern au, fluff & crack, megumi is the only one with a working brain cell 

w. count— 3.1k

“yuuji, what’re we gonna do!?” you exclaimed, pacing around the open space of said boy’s bedroom. itadori groaned loudly from his spot on his bed, tugging at the skin underneath his eyes with him. 

looking down at the bright, bold red letters of the opened email on your phone screen, you internally cried to yourself, because… fuck. this is what all the hard work all four-years of high school led up to?

25, 580 dollars worth tuition left to pay, out of pocket. 

“i don’t fucking know. ...wait, do you think megumi would have an answer?” he perked up at his own, and quite frankly, idiotic idea like an excited puppy. if you squint you can see a tail wagging behind him. turning around to look at the pink headed boy, you practically leaped across the room to slap him repeatedly upside his head. 

“ow– hey... ouch! what the fuck?!” itadori whined, lifting his arms up to shield himself way from your merciless assault. “yuuji, are you dumb? we cannot, for the love of god, ask megumi. he’ll probably tell us to apply for a loan or something.” you snapped. 

“we’ll do that then, it can’t be that hard.” 

“have you seen your credit? there’s no way we're getting approved for a loan.” you exasperated as you folded your arms across your chest, plopping yourself down next to itadori. and the both of you were left to sit in condemning silence that laid itself like a thick, winter blanket over you. itadori could’ve sworn he heard the gears turning in your head because of the stark silence. 

you suddenly gasped, jumping to your feet. it was almost like a lightbulb went off on the top of your head. itadori gaped at you as your eyes lit up like stars, turning to him, it was your ‘aha’ moment. the biggest smile he’s ever seen on your face. he couldn’t help the tinge of nervousness settle in the pit of his tummy, probably for good reason.  

“here me out– what if we got married?” 

-

you and itadori meet in the lunchroom on the first day of school your freshman year of high school.

to say you meet by pure coincidence is actually a perfect explanation to describe what really went down. you remember how you sat alone at the lunch table, scrolling through your phone on social media when all of a sudden a rather energetic boy with pink hair crashed into your table. face planted in your bowl of greek yogurt. and it was the fancy kind too. 

the cafeteria around you erupted in laughter at the... spontaneous display happening before you. and although you wanted to laugh (in all honesty, it was funny), the boy below hasn’t moved an inch. truthfully, you were worried. 

“hey, um, are you okay?” you asked, nudging the top of his head. itadori didn’t show any sign of getting up. you nudged him a little harder, shaking his shoulder. with a gurgled grunt, itadori lifted his head from the bowl and the first thing that caught your eye was the crimson colored blood smeared along the stark white of the yogurt. there was a delirious look in his eye as if he wasn’t completely there in the real world. the laughter has long since died down, only a few strangers coming up to the table to record the aftermath. 

when itadori came to, he peered up at you through his yogurt clumped eyelashes and he felt his heart tighten considerably in his chest. 

“you okay? you’re... bleeding, a lot.” you asked again, gesturing to the entirety of his face. he didn’t say anything as he wiped around his nose, seeing the blood covered dairy. he looked mortified, now catching onto the stares and cameras by nosy teenagers being shoved in his face. reacting quickly, you reached out to one his unoccupied hand, gently guiding him in the direction of the nurses office. your footsteps echoed as you walked down the empty hallway, itadori following close behind you. neither of you said anything during the trip, nor when you entered the nurse’s office. it wasn’t until you had a warm wash rag against itadori’s cheek, wiping away the food and blood mixture, that he finally said something. 

“i’m... sorry, for ruining your lunch...” you stopped in your tracks, left to ponder in your thoughts. he’s sitting here with a busted lip and a shattered dignity... and he’s apologizing for face planting in your yogurt?

“hey, you have bigger things to worry about. so, what’s your name?” you continued to wipe at his face, waiting for him to reply.

“yuuji itadori.” and you saw the slightest glimpse of a smile tugging at the corner of his rosy lips. you returned the smile, teeth showing. 

from then on, you two were joined at the hip. there wasn’t anything you didn’t do together. 

there was something about itadori that brought out the inner child in you. he was sweet, loyal and compassionate. he was a lamp to a moth– hard to resist. hard to ignore. he was your first taste of an easy going life, being able to enjoy being a kid. 

on the other hand, you were the foundation he needed. you were open minded, authentic and grounded. you were the first thing in itadori’s life that felt stable. obtainable. your ambition turned into his drive; he wanted to be by your side for as long as possible. 

you both were something– somebody, each other needed the most. it’s like what they say: the best people in your life come when you need them the most. 

-

“are you two dumb or something? now, i expect this kinda thing from yuuji, but not you.”megumi quipped, left eyebrow arched in concern as he gestured towards your direction with his pencil. nobara in a similar state next to him, working on the worksheet the teacher handed out earlier. it was currently mid-way through the school day, you, itadori, megumi and nobara sat at your assigned table in statistics. it’s been about a week since your discussion with itadori about your... rather brilliant idea. 

“well, that’s harsh.” itadori grumbled, flipping him off. megumi snorted as he returned the gesture. “okay, now listen! they’re explaining the thingy.” 

you cleared your throat, sitting up straight to try to make yourself look dignified. “when applying for financial aid, if you’re married, we’ll be considered an independent on the document. meaning? more money!” 

“okay, well that’s great and all but, you do know you’ll be responsible for each other legally? as in, medical and money expenses. what would you do if either one of you dies? ” megumi questioned. you chuckled, wrapping your arm around itadori’s neck. “i’ve been legally responsible for him since freshman year, what’ll be the difference?” 

megumi rolled his eyes, burying his head in his hands. “god, you’re both so helpless.” 

“you know what megumi? i hope both sides of your pillow are warm when you go to sleep tonight.” itadori gasped in shock, hand reaching up to grip the cotton fabric of the shirt he was wearing. nobara snickered behind her hand to which megumi prompted to shift in her direction, whispering something along the lines of “don’t encourage them!”

“(y/n)! you did not just say that!?”

“i sure as hell did. and i’ll say it again!” you snapped your fingers, jutting out your hip. “and they’ll say it again!” itadori said, copying your actions.

megumi and nobara only watched in pity as the two of you continued to embarrass yourself in the middle of the classroom, other classmates turning to catch a peak of the commotion.

“wait, i got one, i got one! ahem, i hope you pour yourself a nice, big bowl of cereal of— what do you eat? apple jacks? only for there to be no milk!” 

you sputtered out a laugh, pounding your fist on the table. itadori was loud with laughter as well, body slung over the back of the chair.

megumi sighed, picking up his pencil to erase a mistake he spotted on his paper. he watched as the eraser smudged the lead on the paper instead of actually erasing it. watching the scene unfold before you, wheezing out another laugh, and clutching on to your stomach for relief. 

“shut the fuck up, the both of you.”

-

graduation was only a month away. 

teachers were cramming review lessons left and right. completing any last minute work to turn in. senior activities, trips, prom, and getting ready for what was to be the biggest day of your life. where all your hard work and putting up with the shitty ass public school system for 13 years will finally pay off. 

at least that’s how they make it seem. 

itadori was currently sitting in megumi’s living room, sprawled out on the floor like a starfish. his political science textbook laid open next to him. he’s been unusually quiet this afternoon, megumi noted when he would glance up from his own textbook in his lap.

“hey, yuuji? something the matter?”

itadori didn’t respond right away, instead, he shifted himself closer to megumi to lay his head on the other boy's lap. caught surprised by his actions, megumi tried to shove his head off but itadori being the stubborn man he was wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“god, you’re so annoying—“

“then why are you still friends with me?” his words were quick and sharp like a kitchen knife. and megumi had to take a second to pause. “is this what this is about?” itadori still hasn’t said anything, his body curling in on itself. eventually, he shook his head no. 

“alright... then what’s wrong?” 

megumi watched as itadori twiddled with fingers, reluctant to share his feelings with the other male. you see, the thing is that although megumi and itadori have been friends since middle school, they found it hard to share each other's feelings. especially megumi. they’ve always been the “i don’t know how to talk about my feelings so let me enjoy your company for a while?” type of friends. except for that one time. 

“it’s just... i’m not so sure if i want to marry (y/n) anymore...” megumi could barely hear what itadori said, but he caught it. and color him surprised. “have you finally come to senses that it’s a stupid idea?” 

“no, it’s not that–” megumi sighed internally, “–it’s just, what if our relationship changes after it’s finalized? we planned to do it after graduation a-and– it’s just a really scary thing to think about.” itadori’s voice began to warble, and megumi could feel his body tremble as the boy beneath tried to hold in his tears. 

in all the years they’ve known each other, itadori has only cried once in front of him. and that was the night of his 16th birthday. because itadori didn’t come from the best home, and at the time, only megumi knew of such disclosed information. 

“they said it themselves, you guys have always taken care of each other. so why do you think it’ll change things?” he gently tried to coax itadori into calming down, his hand stroking the soft tufts of his hair. thumb caressing his buzzcut. itadori sniffed, and megumi can hear the disgusting sound of snot being sucked back in his nostrils, but he refrained himself from reacting. 

“b-because, i just don’t want my feelings to get in the way, ya’ know? this is simply supposed to be platonic, but it isn’t anymore. at least for me.” 

and right then and there, megumi’s suspicions were confirmed. itadori did have feelings for you. more than what a best friend should have. “your feelings? and what might these feelings be, yuuji?” 

“that i want to spend a very long time with them, by their side. but not as their best friend. something more than that.” he let out a shuddered  exhale, and the room was engulfed with silence. megumi took this time to process what itadori said, the last four words resonating in his mind. 

something more than that.

megumi shifted itadori’s body off his, moving to sit up on his own. and that’s when he saw his face for the first time; his red-brimmed eyes and how the tears clumped his willowy eyelashes together. the tremble in his lips because, damn, he’s trying so hard to hold it in. 

he didn’t have anything to say– there wasn’t much to say to begin with, but megumi wrapped his arms around itadori in a hug. he felt him relax against his body, taking in the cool scent of his sweater. 

“it’s okay to be scared, yuuji, but i believe... you’re smart enough to make the right decision.” 

 - 

standing underneath the blazing summer heat, you stood in front of the court house waiting for itadori to show up. today was supposed to be the day, where you and itadori were to be married. it’s been thirty minutes and no itadori in sight. which is unlike him considering that he is, surprisingly, very punctual. he hasn’t even responded to any of your texts or calls, which also isn’t very much like him.

but those thirty minutes turned into an hour, that soon turned into two hours. 

and to say you were angry, was a complete understatement. you were livid. and that’s how you found yourself banging on itadori’s front door, ignoring the stares of the noisy next door neighbor peeping through their window. 

“yuuji! open the fucking door! i know your ass is in there, i can see your minecraft lamp turned on from your window.” you shouted, breathing heavily through your nose. there wasn’t an immediate response, only dead silence, which prompted you to raise your fist to go another round of beating up the door until the faint sound of footsteps reached the door. opening with a creak. 

there stood the man of the hour, yuuji ita- fucking- dori.

“there you are! dude, what the hell happened? why didn’t you show up at the courthouse today? did you forget or...” you were quick to jump the gun, bombarding him with questions left and right. 

“no... i didn’t forget.” was his reply, eye downcast to look at his sock clad feet. anywhere but your face right now. 

“then what yuuji? what could’ve been so important that you decided to just forget?” you flayed your arms around like a mad man, the anger rolling off your body in waves. you knew that you weren’t necessarily being fair to him right now, you can tell by his stand-offish attitude since opening the door. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. 

itadori was reluctant to answer, his legs wobbly with the anxiety running rampant in his system. he was tempted to say sorry and be done with this, but then he remembered megumi’s words.    

...you’re smart enough to make the right decision. 

“because... because this isn’t a good idea anymore.” now you’re more confused than angry. 

“what do you mean this isn’t a good idea anymore,” you asked, placing your hand on your hip. “that's not what you said 4 months ago.” 

itadori sighed, starting to feel the twinge of annoyance in the tips of his fingers. he was starting to regret his choice of words. “i know what i said 4 months ago. but now 4 months later, i’ve changed my mind.” 

you wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t muster a bubble of it in your system. was he for real right now? 

“oh really? and why do you say that?” 

“it’ll change everything.” the reply was short. straight to the point. 

“what? no, it won’t! don’t be silly, we’ll still be best friends!” you try to muse, but itadori wasn’t budging. his face was disdained, detached from the world. the answer was sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t ready to say it. especially in front of you. 

taking in his physique, your mind started to slow. you didn’t want to go there but you couldn’t help it. it was only natural, right? 

he’s been off putting since the graduation ceremony two weeks ago. he was so bright and happy that day, shoving his diploma in megumi’s face a numerous number of times. you remember the scream he let out when your name was called to walk across the stage of the arena. how embarrassed you felt as you did so, but a twinge of giddy happiness filled your chest. because he was calling out your name. your heart always did leap with joy when his attention was on you, and only you. the way he had you wrapped around his finger, without him even knowing. it takes you back to when you two first met, how you were so captivated by his amber eyes. the sudden urge to be there. to always be there and to be more. 

so... “do you not like me anymore? is this what this is about now?” it came out a whispered, and itadori was shocked nonetheless. now what were you talking about? 

“what, no! of course i still like you!” you almost laughed at how quickly he responded.

“then why? why did you–”

“i just didn’t want to make things awkward between us! i didn’t want to ruin our friendship with my... stupid feelings.” glancing up, you can see the slightest tint of pink on the roundness of his cheeks. awkward? ruin? 

you took a step forward, your hand reaching to hold his. kindly, thumbing his knuckles with your thumb. the way he always liked it. 

“yuuji, your feelings are never stupid. i’m your best friend–” with a frustrated huff, itadori ripped his hand away from yours. 

“but that’s the thing though! best friend this and best friend that– what if i don’t want to be your best friend anymore, hm? what if–” make the right decision, “what if i want to be more than that?”

more than that?

“you want to be more than friends? is what you’re saying.” itadori can almost feel himself shit his pants. 

that giddy feeling that always erupted whenever you were around him expanded ten fold. you’ll be damned: your best friend of four and a half years, was in love with you. the smile that you struggled to fight bloomed with mirth on your face. and itadori followed suit, reaching out to hold your hand once more.

not much needed to be said, the smile on your face was enough for him to put it all together. for once, he was actually smart enough to make a decision. a good one at that. 

copyright © 2021 maadorii. all rights reserved. 

[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.

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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.”

[getthembees]

Five Giyushino drabbles borne from one-word prompts

(Because I’ve had this sitting in my docs for half a year now and forgot to post them)

((Contains spoilers))

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i. Vicious

Shinobu is tenacious in her fighting; she’s graceful, fleeting— dancing between enemies in a blur of translucent wings, just as her Breath would suggest. She is a Butterfly girl, after all, and so she is airy and elegant by association.

Giyuu is reminded, however, as she stabs through the skull of a demon child with a viciousness at odds with the smile on her face, that wasps are insects too.

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ii. Night

They are both insomniacs. Although that is hardly a surprise, it comes with the job description. They’re nocturnal hunters, prey turned predators in the long-winded fight to eradicate demons. Nights are bloodied and tense and full of grief. Mornings are spent buried in the clutches of sleep.

Even so, there is a serenity to be found together, sitting on the cracked roof of the Butterfly estate, a cacophony of stars the only eyes to watch them in the dark.

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iii. Lawless

The law of existence is that it is lawless.

A universe that created demons has no room for sympathy, nor care for the fragility of human emotion. It is discord under the guise of order. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A demon in a human’s skin.

Cruelty litters the outside world, but it becomes the foundation of the Infinity Fortress’s walls. There is no room for closure between these twisting corridors.

“Caw! Caw! Kochou Shinobu is dead!”

Existence is lawless, and Giyuu is reminded of that for a third time in the middle of a demon’s lair, with only a crow’s piercing shrill to deliver the blow.

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iv. Creek

Shinobu has been trying to pin the flow of Giyuu’s Breath for ages.

He does not thunder in a rolling wave as other Water users do, nor does he hold the mystery of deep open waters. And, despite coming from the same teacher, he does not bring the respite of a sunshower as Tanjiro does.

Originally she had deemed him a pond—still, silent—but that did not stick; because while he ignores even the most basic socialization, Giyuu does not stand idly. He still flows along, determined as the other Hashira to meet their shared goal.

It isn’t until they hop moss-soaked rocks over a stream that she has her epiphany.

Ah, she realizes, watching the freshwater break through rocks, I suppose he’s the smooth trickle of a creek.

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v. Rolls

He’s just leaving the Butterfly estate after a particularly nasty fight, his side still sore from the burn of poison when one of the girls approaches him.

He only barely remembers her name, Aoi, because she was the one who had treated him, (despite Shinobu being the poison specialist, he hadn’t seen her in the building at all that day). The girl all but shoves a warm bag into his hand that smells like sugar and honey.

“Lady Shinobu heard you were here and asked me to give these to you,” she glares, the look had made him nervous at first, although now he’s learned that she is simply in a perpetual state of indignance, “as an apology for not being there to treat you. They’re leftovers. Have a good day, Tomioka-sama.”

He chews on the bread rolls as he walks to his estate.

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Thank you for reading :)! I have another giyushino oneshot in my docs from a while ago. It’s like 1k words and a modern au, but I have no idea how popular gsh is anymore so if anyone wants me to post it, I will. Otherwise it’s staying in my Google doc.

[brynnmck]

J/B Smut Swap recs!

I come bearing @jb-smut-swap recs! Presented mostly in posting order because that’s mostly how I read them, though first, my wonderful gift fic:

Jaime’s Game by @catherineflowers29 - SOFTEST BONDAGE EVER. I have told multiple people that reading this story felt like getting a warm hug, but with ropes. And a crucial part of the softness is the vulnerability between them, the way they’re so clearly building their trust in each other, taking care of each other, and there’s just a little bit of adorable awkwardness too as they negotiate this new thing together. It made my heart so glowy and happy. Cathy, thank you so much for volunteering to pick this up and delivering something so well-suited to my requests; I could feel the care you took with this and I appreciate it so much! <333

More recs below the cut ‘cause this got long (as did Jaime, HEYOOO); if I missed anyone’s Tumblr handle, please let me know!

Binary Explosive by @sdwolfpup - Okay this isn’t in posting order but I DID read this first and also it’s my blog and I make the rules. Am I biased about this fic because it’s SDW and because it was inspired by one of my favorite due South episodes? Yes. Does that make this fic any less amazing? IT DOES NOT. This is battle couple/mutual competence kink/danger kink at its finest, crackling with banter and absolutely dripping with (literally potentially lethal) sexual tension, all wrapped up in an entirely swoonworthy established relationship. The cocktail of soft and horny here is thoroughly intoxicating, and it’s so much FUN, with just the right hint of crack, and the ending makes me kick my feet in glee every time I read it (which has been, of my own volition, SEVERAL TIMES). LOVE.

Thrust Exercises by @nire-the-mithridatist - STRIP SPARRING. We’ve all said it but also oh my god STRIP SPARRING. WHAT A GENIUS THOUGHT. This is a fabulous combination of fun and sexy, and they’re so FOND in it, too--nire hits such a beautiful note of playful competitiveness and also a little shyness/awkwardness and a LOT of heat and, has been very correctly noted, a VERY wonderfully slutty Jaime. (Jaime’s premeditation regarding their wedding night is both very horny and very sweet/thoughtful, and thus very Jaime, and also his line about how he quite likes her loud face is right up there with my favorite love confessions, as well as being a thing that Jaime and I very much have in common. AGH SO GOOD.)

Second Chances by @firesign23 - I love me some JAB and the setup of this is so delicious, that Brienne is given a second chance at an opportunity she once turned down. This is another one where all three of them just LIKE each other so much--the J/B is so solid and lived-in and warm, and the history between Jaime and Addam is delicious, and the Brienne/Addam has that little thrill of newness and “oh my god we actually get to do this” (there is a kitchen kiss that is GOOD TIMES for me). So much trust and love here, it’s lovely.

crosslines, the scratches and stains by QuixoticChloe - One of two sex bruises fics in the swap, and SCORCHING hot. This whole thing has such a teasing vibe to it, and a sense of dirty discovery within an established relationship, and the whole “we’ve got a sexy secret and we’re gonna torture each other with it as much as possible” aspect was A LOT. Damn.

Diplomatic Relations by @eryiscrye - In which Jaime and Brienne get married and proceed to scandalize/delight/horrify the entire continent with their loud married sex. IT’S GREAT. It’s Eryi’s so you know it’s gonna be super hot, and she really touched on so many of the greatest hits here: cave sex, armory sex, water sex, quiet sex, alcove sex, SO MANY GOOD CHOICES and so much sweetness to go with them, too. And the other characters’ pained/pleased observations were hysterical. SO much fun.

Apart, Together, Together Apart by greenmtwoman - Oof, this one made my chest ache in the best way. It’s so soft and romantic and LONGING and full of equal parts Brienne and Jaime’s devotion to each other and devotion to their respective duties, which feels incredibly true to them. The way this story builds and releases and then slowly builds tension again is lovely, and it’s bittersweet, but very full of hope for their future.

left your fingerprints all over me by @writergirl2011 - Friends-with-benefits-to-dating, yessssss. The banter in this was adorable, and the connection between them was so palpable, and it was delightful to watch them finally acknowledge their feelings. 

Good Long Line of Praises by @aliveanddrunkonsunlight - In which Brienne discovers that Jaime has a praise kink and we ALL get to benefit. Actually the praise goes both ways here, and the result is lovely--they take each other apart at the same time they’re holding each other very closely, and it’s a wonderful mix of sweet and sexy. Another established relationship fic that included so much joy of discovery built over a strong foundation.

Nights Avoiding Things Unholy by @forbiddenfantasies1 - I was lucky enough to get a sneak preview of this one and when I tell you that it has been living rent-free in my mind ever since... this is LUDICROUSLY, brain-cell-incineratingly hot, with so many delicious horny details, but also with FF’s trademark gigantic heart behind it (I feel like heart + hornt is basically FF’s brand and I love this for all of us). Again, you get such a strong sense that these two LIKE each other so much, even when they’re a little resentful and a lot scared about it, and the filth is so full of genuine affection that it makes it all the more devastating. I literally read this and was like “shit, I gotta up my game” regarding my own draft, lol. SO GOOD.

Light My Fire by @wildlingoftarth - While I fully respect and celebrate the union suit kink, I don’t have strong feelings about it, myself, but this fic made me a convert. The painstakingly sexy descriptions here were SO MUCH, and I’m also such a huge sucker for the slightly chaotic camp counselors vibe of this, that sort of euphoria and recklessness that overtakes you when something time-bound is about to end. The banter was adorable, there were so many moments that made me giggle, and of course it was hot as hell too and I’m very glad that these two dorks FINALLY figured it out.

Clothes (un)Make the Man by @aviss - CLOTHES-SWAPPING YESSSSS. I am such a sucker for that and Aviss delivered on it beautifully; seeing the progression of their relationship was so delightful and the feelings built so well throughout, and there were a couple of lines that made me laugh out loud, and, again, both the tension and the smut were super hot. LOVELY.

I’ll never let you go (if you promise not to fade away) by LadyRhiyana - This fic is going to HAUNT ME in the BEST POSSIBLE WAY. For one thing, I have checked the word count MULTIPLE times to make sure it’s not ten times as long because the world here is so vivid and so affecting that it’s like some sort of magic. I adore the setting here, and Cersei’s POV is spectacular--she’s all sharp edges and frustrated longing for the things she thinks she can’t have and I felt for her SO MUCH. Both she and Jaime are just incredibly, helplessly horny for (HOT MECHANIC) Brienne, and I loved the way that LadyRhiyana made it so clear that having Brienne there shifts the balance for Jaime and Cersei just enough that all their spikes can slide together a little better instead of just eviscerating each other all the time--and yet this happens without ever making it feel like Brienne is just a conduit or a means to an end for them; all three sides of the triad feel thoroughly distinct and important (including a very deft hand with the Jaime/Cersei aspect). It’s also EXTREMELY hot, and the Jaime/Brienne aspect has so much softness to it, and Brienne is so forthright and so kind and so curious, and AGH. I loved this.

a grip so tight I couldn’t tear it apart by @janiedean - The other sex bruises fic, and this one ended up (coincidentally, I assume) being a perfect bookend to the other one--if the modern AU is all about sexy secrets, this canon-based one is all about Jaime and Brienne’s pride in each other and joy in not having to hide their relationship, gleefully declaring their love and desire for each other for everyone to see. I was so happy for them!

with those who know secret things by @sdwolfpup - This has been recced widely and DESERVEDLY SO. The amount of CARE in this fic is overwhelming, and it’s full of all of these subtle details that suddenly come into sharp focus at just the right moment to really devastate you, and by you, I mean me. The prose itself is also gorgeous--the description of Brienne in her ad came directly for my throat (as well as some other places)--and it’s beautiful to watch these two surprise and delight and take care of each other. They’re both so GOOD and Jaime is so soft and vulnerable and Brienne is so kind and incisive and THEY LIKE EACH OTHER AND WANT EACH OTHER SO MUCH I CAN’T. The whole thing is lustrous and wonderful and I adored it. 

Today Will Die Tomorrow by HNJ - This fic also DESTROYED me. The way the time shifts are handled so that we slowly put the pieces of the night together and feel the full impact of each moment, the understated delicacy and very obvious love with which both Jaime and Brienne are handled, the multiple lines that made me catch my breath with how TRUE they were, the way their love for each other uncurls and opens up to the light over the course of the story... it’s really gorgeous and just burrowed right into my heart. I also loved that this was a canon-based first time that focused more on Brienne not knowing what to do emotionally than not knowing what to do physically; I’ve read and enjoyed the latter a bunch of times but the former felt really fresh and fascinating; it was an excellent take. 

Hush by @kiraziwrites - I have a thing for quiet sex anyway, and like everyone else, I will be suing kirazi for the fact that this fic left my brain a smoldering wreckage with nary a coherent thought left for the comment box. The sex in this is so deliciously varied and dirty and every bit of it feels somehow decadent and completely necessary at the same time, and watching their relationship build as they try each new thing is wonderful, and there are so many images in this that have burned themselves into the empty space where my brain used to be and taken up permanent residence. I could list MANY, but a sampling: the glacier comparison, and Brienne’s teeth-marks in Jaime’s jacket, and also Brienne DROPPING A CONDOM IN JAIME’S POCKET AND PROPOSITIONING HIM ARE YOU ACTUALLY TRYING TO END MY LIFE, KIRAZI. It’s also so funny and so fond and the fact that it’s literally exactly 5K is such a flex, I can’t even. Gah. TOO MUCH.

we used to wait by @it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined - I was reading things in update order and I kept thinking that I hadn’t read one yet that I could clock as jencat’s, and then kirazi was flailing about this fic and how beautiful the prose was and how strong a sense of place it had and I was like aha without even having read it yet. And this fic is indeed those things, as well as being sexy as fuck; Jen just drags the tension out and out in this very deliberate-yet-spare-yet-somehow-also-lush way until you want to claw your face off (and then she makes it totally worth the wait, too). Their relationship had some wonderful details, too, to show how well-matched they are--Jaime increasing the speed on his treadmill to match Brienne’s, rather than to exceed it, wasn’t what I was expecting and worked fabulously in this context--and the image of Jaime leaning against the wall at a crucial moment was SO MUCH. Whew. Just lovely.

The Waters and the Wild by LadyRhiyana - The last entry in the swap but by no means the least! This was another one where I couldn’t believe how much happened in such a short space; the descriptions were so vivid and cinematic, I could see the whole landscape unfold in my head, and it included some high-quality competence kink, too. We get just enough backstory to be fully invested in this version of Jaime and Brienne, including their delightful hidden-identity initial meeting, and the tension and affection and trust and frustration between them just simmers and simmers until it inevitably boils over and it’s incredibly satisfying. I also thoroughly adored the ending--including Brienne being as indignant as Jaime at [redacted]--and I would buy this movie so fast if it actually existed. 

[gildedmuse]

Question, which ship do you personally find the most cannon, ZoLu, ZoSan or ZoLaw? To expand on the question which ship for you has the most potential to possibly become cannon, I personally love all the ships, but I was wondering your thoughts on it? Ps reallyyyy love your AO3 works especially the ZoLaw! And the headcanon about them being trained by Rayleigh in the Modern AU!!!

Short Answer:

Zoro x Luffy is obviously the ship that makes the most sense and has the most examples you can point to in the canon while saying, "see that, that is love."

Long Answer No One Cares About:

This question awoke something dark inside of me, and I apologize for the overly long answer.

So, here's the thing: I don't really like 99% of "crack" ships which I would personally define as characters who have never met, whose personalities clash with one another's, and who share no common traits or grounds on which they might potentially relate to one another. Pretty much, if you have to invent a secret, noncanon background that totally changes a character's personality so that they can hook up with another character, I'm probably not going to ship it. Though, hey, if that's your thing you fly that flag high and proud. Shippers should support other shippers, regardless of cargo.

Buuuut.... At the same time, I also do not give a fuck about my ships being canon. Not only because, hey, it's my imagination and I'll do what I want with it, thank you very much, but also being a canon ship doesn't mean shit. Just because a creator decided two characters should hook up doesn't mean that it's logical or sound or feasible or healthy or somehow more "correct" than other pairings. In fact, what it usually means is that one character is a man, the other is a woman, and they are both attractive. Which, you know, is a pretty bullshit reason to start a relationship. If you've ever gone out with someone solely because they're attractive and the opposite gender of yourself than either:

Congratulations on what I hope was some truly amazing sex

So sorry about that awkward sexual encounter

You likely have first hand experience on how unstable and unsustainable such relationships can be.

So being a canon ship does not necessarily give you a pass in my books. For starters, most of my ship's be gay as fuck, and as someone who grow up without a lot of gay representation in media, I have learned not to expect anything despite how OBVIOUSLY DEEPLY CONNECTED characters might be.

[Side Note: And, yes, it's mostly male characters, because throughout the history of entertainment culture the vast majority was created by people men who had total faith in their ability to write realistic female characters despite all evidence pointing to the fact that they never once talked to an actual real life woman. I mean, how hard could it be? All women have basically the same personalty traits (boobs) and everyone knows female are monolithic group whose sole purpose in life is finding the most protagonistic male out there and immediately become his love interest. Which is why I just don't even bother with folks who look down on fans of slash/yaoi/gay ass ships because in a frankly sad amount of media, these pairings often make more practical sense as well as being more appealing to those of us who want romantic relationships based on personality, shared interests, or just between two well developed characters rather than one fully realized character and one cardboard cut out of Generic Attractive Female Person.]

When female characters are written as stereotypes whose defining characteristics is "she's a girl!" then of course the male characters with fully realized personalities and complex characterization will appeal to most people, including those of us who prefers their romantic pairings to have an actual foundation outside of "penis + vagina = love" it makes sense to ship the male characters who we get to see build a relationship, share common interests/traits/goals, and just generally ) So I have accepted that canon couples often mean nothing, because when it comes to romance so many creators are stuck in some heteronormative mindset where they totally forget all the work they've done building the character and defining their personality and sticking them with the first person they meet that has tits.

Basically, I am an English major whose end game is to be a college professor. And I am all about Death Of The Author, but also Show Me Your Workings. I don't need a relationship to be canon, what I need is for there to be a reason behind it. Preferably one that is deeper than "Tarzan love Jane because man loves woman" or "but they're both so pretty!!!!"

Taking all that into account, Zoro and Luffy were my first ship for a reason. There are so many little moments between the two you can point at as proof of their devotion and love (romantic or platonic, however you prefer to see it) for one another. I don't just mean the way Zoro took all Luffy's pain. I'm talking about how Luffy will always say things like, "I hope Zoro and the others are okay" or "When we get there I want to have huge feast with Zoro and the others". How often do you designate one of your friends over all the rest, naming them apart from the group? Personally, I either name everyone or no one, the exception being if one of them is someone I'm dating and therefore actually in a separate category from my other friends.

It's the way Zoro has all this nonverbal dialogue with Luffy which allows him to implicitly trust in whatever mad scheme Luffy has cooked up. When more rational people (Nami and Usopp) object out if, you know, sanity, Zoro can always tell when Luffy's plans are just silly gun, when he's throwing out his first thought just to say something, and when he's statement is made with full, unyielding conviction. And Zoro believes in Luffy enough that, when his captain has that level of assuredness, Zoro has no reason to doubt in him. Zoro is a man of actions - while oaths and promises are important, they only meant anything if you always follow through with actions. Luffy never fails to turn his promises into deeds, and so in a way they speak the same language. They understand one another on a deeper level.

And again, it's small things. The way Luffy can get even post-time skip Zoro to smile, or how Luffy will offer to share his lunch with Zoro, the way at the coliseum in Dressrosa, Zoro gets upset about Luffy not informing him there was a fight and Luffy actually apologizing. They have all these little moments to show how deeply connected they are, how much they understand one another, and more importantly how much faith they have in one another so even when one of them might not fully understand the other's reasoning, they never fail to support one another or know the other will pull through.

In my opinion, that is the bases of a strong relationship. That support and understanding; the sense that even if one of them may fail (and almost get chopped in half as a result) or fuck up (see Luffy. Just... Luffy) that it doesn't lessen the other one's believe in them. If anything, they know these set backs mean the other will fight twice as hard to come back even stronger.

I could literally list a thousand moments when they have each other's backs, when the whole crew doubts one of the except for the other, when they offer support even if it's unpopular or seems crazy. And yet they still have little fights, they aren't "made for one another" the way shallow love interests often are, but when it comes to the important moments they trust one another implicitly and show unwavering acceptance without the other having to validate or explain their reasoning. Luffy trusts Zoro with the crew's life, the most important thing in Luffy's world, and Zoro... Well in many ways Luffy has become the most important thing in his world. You see it the moment Zoro kowtows in front of Mihawk - the man Zoro has sworn to defeat and who is at the center of Zoro's life goal - all because Luffy needs him to be stronger; for the crew, to achieve Luffy's dream.

Mihawk even thinks to himaelf, who is the man you are willing to set aside your pride for, because he knows men like Zoro and the only reason they would ask such a favour from a rival is out of loyalty to someone.

So, yeah, not that it matters, but I'm terms of canon, Mihawk basically says, "this kid is in love, only someone in love would be so willing to set aside their dreams and goals for those of someone else."