#I had this saved for a while i've forgotten about it
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cece693 · 2 days ago
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tony stark x male reader who’s kinda shy and quiet but crazy good at math and science and all those equations. something fluffy and cute thank youuuuuuu
Brilliant (Tony Stark x M! Reader)
Announcement: for those who have been following my Velvet Ring trilogy fic, I've created an AO3 account where I intend to flesh out the story. Here's the link! Also, since I'm not smart myself, I didn't go in-depth about science and calculations, so forgive me :(
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Tony Stark was many things: a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist—but being in a committed relationship? That wasn’t exactly the headline he wanted plastered all over the news. Not because he was ashamed—far from it—but because Tony had learned the hard way that the world had a way of ruining what mattered most. And you? You mattered more than anything.
You were everything Tony wasn’t—quiet, thoughtful, reserved. While Tony thrived in the spotlight, you thrived in the solace of your work, diving deep into equations and theories that would leave most people with a headache. You were a prodigy in your own right, a quiet storm of brilliance and ingenuity. The kind of man who didn’t seek recognition, only results. Tony couldn’t help but admire that about you—and, though he’d never admit it out loud, you kept him grounded in a way no one else could.
Tonight, you were sprawled out on the couch in your shared apartment, wearing a faded hoodie and sweatpants you’d stolen from Tony long ago. A notebook rested on your lap, filled with scribbled formulas and diagrams. The room was quiet, save for the occasional scratch of your pen against paper.
The sound of the front door opening broke your focus. Tony stepped inside, tie loosened and suit jacket draped over his arm. He looked tired, but his eyes lit up when they landed on you.
“Hey, handsome,” he greeted, his voice warm as he crossed the room. “What did I say about math after ten?”
You glanced up, rolling your eyes. “You said it’s a house rule. I said it’s not enforceable.”
Tony smirked, plucking the notebook from your hands before dropping it onto the coffee table. Sitting beside you, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. “You were late,” you muttered, resting your head against his shoulder. “Everything okay?”
“Just the usual corporate nonsense,” Tony replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You know how it is—saving the world, keeping the board happy. Exhausting, really. I’m practically a saint.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, but instead of responding, your eyes kept flickering toward the discarded notebook on the table. After a moment, you shifted slightly in his hold, trying to reach for it. Tony groaned dramatically, tightening his grip.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, pulling you closer. “I just got home, and you’re trying to ditch me for math? Do you have any idea how lonely I’ve been? I’ve been deprived of your presence all day, and this—” he gestured at the notebook—“is more important?”
You bit back a laugh, managing to wiggle out of his grasp. “I promise it'll be worth it."
Tony crossed his arms, slumping back against the couch like a sulking child. “Fine, but if I die from lack of cuddles and attention it's on you.”
Grabbing the notebook, you turned back to him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You look fine. And for the record, this 'math' you're referring to is yours."
That caught his attention. His brows furrowed as he sat up straighter, his earlier theatrics forgotten. “Mine?”
You nodded, flipping open the notebook and holding it out to him. “You mentioned the other night that you were having issues with stabilizing the power output on the Iron Man suit. I’ve been working on it.”
Tony’s eyes scanned the pages, his expression softening with each line he read. Your neat handwriting detailed calculations, theories, and possible solutions. You’d even diagrammed potential fixes, complete with annotations on how they’d improve efficiency. “You’ve been working on this?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “For me?”
“Well, yeah,” you said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “I know it’s been frustrating you, so I thought I’d try to help.”
For once, Tony Stark was speechless. His eyes flickered between you and the notebook, the weight of your gesture hitting him like a freight train. You’d spent your time—not for your own research or projects, but to solve one of his problems. It wasn’t just the effort or the brilliance of your work—it was the care behind it, the way you always seemed to go out of your way to make his life a little easier.
Tony set the notebook aside, reaching for you instead. His hands cupped your face, his gaze warm and filled with an emotion he rarely let himself feel this deeply. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with gratitude. “I don’t deserve you.”
Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, soft and full of affection. It wasn’t the usual teasing kiss he’d steal when he was being playful—it was deeper, more vulnerable. A silent thank you, a promise that he’d never take you for granted. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled. “You’re too good to me.”
You laughed softly, your hands resting on his chest. “You’re worth it, Stark. Even if you are a little dramatic sometimes.” Tony chuckled, pulling you into another kiss, his heart full and his mind already spinning with ideas. If this was what it felt like to be loved by you, then he never wanted to let it go.
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docholligay · 2 days ago
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I’m still fascinated that I now feel less equipped to explain what Digimon is than I did before seeing the film
One of the best and most difficult books I've ever read is House of Leaves. House of Leaves, fairly uniquely among horror books, and I say this as someone who reads a lot of horror books, really replicates the feeling of going crazy. Of not being able to trust yourself, of not being able to trust the narrative in front of you, of a screaming doubt in the back of your mind. I actually took a year to read it--I found it so emotionally taxing to read that I had to take frequent breaks.
I wouldn't have guessed that there was something called, "All the disorientation of House of Leaves, but for children, and also bad" but there was the Digimon movie for me!
I sat and watched 90 minutes of digimon content and I feel less qualified than ever to even tell you what is a digimon. They live in the computer unless they don't, they can transform into different power levels but they can go back at the snap of a finger so I'm not sure why they don't immediately transform into SuperMegaUltimate form as soon as a conflict occurs, but there we are.
The bad digimon can also control nuclear weapons, it seems like, if they hack into it? Which was used once and then forgotten about, but seems reasonably relevant to me. Also everyone seems to know Digimon exist while living in what is more or less our world, and so I wonder, why has no one pushed for military operations, at the very least, to be completely analog? I mean, I am dumb as dogshit and not making a franchise, and my first thought with Tracer's CA was that it had to be electronic in the way a clock radio is for safety reasons. I know I'm asking a lot of kids' movie here, to think about literally any detail, but in fairness, they brought it up! It's not like NastyDevilMon got into, I don't know, the school database and ruined the big carnival, so I'm extrapolating of that, no, I need you to know, THE DIGIMON CONTROLLED THE NUCLEAR WARHEADS AND TRIED TO BLOW UP JAPAN.
But by the second act of the movie, we had sort of just, forgotten about that, and instead had a major fight in a national forest that destroyed something that looks like it might be Royal Gorge or one of the other uppers canyons of the Colorado river, because we are in Colorado for the second part, on a road trip.
None of which prepared me for when the digimon transformed into humanoid angels, notably called, Angelman and Angelwoman, boy I wish I was not making this up and was taking a humorous dig at this movie, I don't need to, it digs at itself.
Weirdly, for all of this, it was also boring! It was like wandering an endless mirror maze, which seems disorienting and almost funny but by minute 60 all you can think of is, "When is this thing going to fucking end?" For 90 minutes of run time, maybe 45 minutes of things occur. That's a high level of generosity on my behalf.
The only saving grace of the movie was that it used late 90s American music in the dub, and I have decided no dub is ever allowed to be made now without inserting contemporary American music of the time period, so that when we watch it later everyone can go, 'Oh my god!"
Anyway, Pokemon is not for me and I ahve no fondness for it, but at the very least, I could explain to you what the basic principles of it are and why I assume people like it. No such luck here!
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themisterhip · 6 months ago
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I'm still down bad for him, that'll never change.
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suffercerebral · 1 month ago
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i wonder if my ex best friend remembers my birthday every year the way i remember hers
#haven't really thought about her in a while#hope she's well#i don't think she remembers it#i often feel like i'm leaving flowers at the graves of people from my past#lately i've been haunted by thoughts and dreams about people i used to love#and i will always love all of them#no matter how badly i got hurt in the process#a piece of me fractures off when i love someone and i wish they'd keep that piece tucked away somewhere in the closet and dust it off somet#imes. i stil have every letter#every gift every photo every silly thing i've saved over the years#and i know that no one does the same for me#i wonder what my ex did with the drawings i made them after they dumped me for their ex. were they thrown out and forgotten#or maybe did they keep them in a drawer somewhere to find a few years down the line and remember my face. my voice. my laugh#i still have the letter i started writing for them about a week before they left where i was saying i regretted not telling them i loved th#and sometimes i wonder had they seen the finished product if things would be different#my reluctance to admit my love out of fear of being forgotten results in abandonment more often than not#my girlfriend now swears the pattern isn't going to repeat but i've heard that song before and lately i haven't felt safe#and loved the way i once did. she tells me to talk to my therapist. but i don't think it's in my head. i told her if she's thinking of#leaving to just do it now and spare me the pain of love burning out slowly#and maybe she'll listen and that terrifies me#i am my own biggest burden
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sysig · 2 years ago
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kimkaelyn · 8 months ago
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Ditto [s. todoroki]
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𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝑜𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜 — 𝒟𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜, 𝒩𝑒𝓌𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈
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→ summary: when you transferred to U.A., you didn't anticipate slipping on a pair of chopsticks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria during your first week. however, what was more surprising was the unexpected fall for the boy who gracefully caught you.
→ pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader
→ genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers
→ word count: 13.1k
→ warnings & tags: sfw, female pronouns are used, usage of y/n l/n, Class 1-A are now third-year students aka 18+, swearing, the usual U.A. chaos, reader has a Quirk, misunderstandings, some training violence, minor injuries, mentions and discussions of insecurities, aizawa briefly belittles the reader as a form of motivation, beginnings of a panic attack but it's cut short, there is one instance of the reader appearing to be ‘flushed’ in regards to a fever, since this is my first bnha fic some characters might be ooc? | please kindly let me know if I missed any tags!
→ author's note: AHHHH HERE IT IS! I've been working on this for almost a year now and I am so excited to finally share it with all of you. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever finish this story, but I kept slowly chipping away at it thanks in part to the encouragement from @andypantsx3, @missrosegold, and @getstarried. Special thanks to @pikatsum for beta-reading this for me! Thank you girls. This is for you🫶🏻
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The cafeteria at U.A. High School was a pretty chaotic environment, you quickly learned within your first week after transferring from another Hero Course in the countryside. There were multiple things that could and would happen after the famous students had gotten some much-needed nutrients in their systems.
It was only three days into the school year and nothing had happened just yet, but in the U.A. world, that something was overdue.
The first chaotic event of the year that everyone had been anxiously—or in some cases, excitingly—waiting for happened on Thursday.
The day started off average; you got to school with three minutes to spare, which was a new record, but you had forgotten your pencil pouch in your dorm room, so you had to borrow some pencils from a girl who sat in front of you; Mina Ashido.
“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the pastel pink utensil from her. There was even a cute little fluffy puffball at the end in exchange for an eraser. Good thing you had an eraser in your bag.
“No problem! I gotcha!” She physically lit up and gave you a bright smile before turning back to focus on the blackboard.
You somehow managed to get through your morning classes running on the four hours of sleep you got the night before. You were cutting it quite close to passing out at your desk during calculus class, but you were saved by the lunch bell.
As soon as you stepped foot into the hallway, you were wrapped up in the faint, delicious scent of your favorite food coming from the cafeteria. Your mouth instantly watered, and you made a mad dash for the source of the delicious scent.
“Hey!” a sharp voice made you freeze in your steps. You glanced over your shoulder to find Tenya Iida, Class 3-A’s representative, glaring at you. The light reflecting off his glasses made him appear more threatening than he really was, but regardless, you still found yourself shying away from his harsh glare and rapid-moving hands. As they passed by, some students gave you apologetic smiles while others were not shy about openly staring at the scene before them, wondering what you possibly could have done to induce the wrath of the student representative. “There is to be no running in the halls!” You cowered some more at his brisk and overly formal tone.
Geez, what a stuck-up, you thought to yourself.
“My apologies, Iida.” You respond with a bow. He accepted your apology with a curt nod before he continued on his way to the cafeteria.
You waited for him to pass before rising from your bow. “Wow, he makes it feel like I broke the law or something.” You mused aloud.
��Don’t take it personally,” a comforting voice said from behind you. You turned to find Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui standing before you. Ochako gave you a slight wave in greeting. “Iida can be quite demanding,” Yaoyorozu reassured you.
“Thank you.”
Tsuyu regarded you with gentle onyx eyes. “It’s L/N, right?”
You smiled, happy that she remembered your name from roll call. “Y-yeah! I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I, um, already know who you guys are.” You suddenly felt shy, and you bashfully rubbed the back of your neck out of nervous habit.
Before your transfer was finalized, you did extensive research into your future school’s history and future classmates. Thankfully—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—a lot of information is public knowledge; the various attacks on the school in the year leading up to and the conclusion of the War between the Paranormal Liberation Front and the Heroes, not to mention the various televised sports festivals, and the fact that the members of Class 1-A are practically household names even before their graduation.
The girls invited you to sit with them in the cafeteria. You had been keeping to yourself the first few days of school, choosing to observe from afar the already established social circles and friend groups. You had waited for an invitation to join one of said groups, and here was your opportunity.
The four of you made small talk as you made your way through the lunch line and to the table. Right away, Asui told you to call her by her given name. You told them about your life growing up in the countryside—with you and Uraraka bonding over your shared reason for becoming Pro Heroes—about the friends you had, embarrassingly funny stories from your junior high days, and eventually what led you to transfer to U.A.
“Well, this is the best Hero Course in the country!” you all laughed. “But to be frank, the only teacher at my old academy who could handle my Quirk retired, and none of the other academies within the prefecture had the resources to help me advance. Plus, my mentor is an U.A. alumnus, so naturally, the only other choice was U.A.”
Yaoyorozu hummed. “It is a shame about your mentor retiring, but that is what led you to transfer to U.A., and for that, I am grateful.” The class vice representative regarded you kindly. “I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason, and your transfer doesn’t change that.”
Uraraka nodded her agreement. “Momo’s right. U.A. is a place where anybody can make a difference, and I think you will find success here.”
You were rendered speechless. The tips of your ears turned red as your classmates regarded you with so much hope and sincerity in their eyes. “Uh . . . I,” you bashfully scratched the back of your head. Not knowing how to respond, you instead reached for the small bottle of milk on your lunch tray and brought it to your lips.
However, before you could take a sip, a BOOM erupted from the front of the cafeteria, accompanied by a gruff voice yelling, “Don’t walk in front of me, Icy-Hot!” You reflexively jolted at the loud noises and lost your grip on the glass, spilling the half-full bottle all over the front of your uniform.
“Shit,” you exclaimed as you instinctually rose from your seat, only to quickly sit down again when the liquid started to fall to the floor. The girls gasped and were quick to hand you all the napkins in the vicinity.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Asui asked as she watched you pat down your sodden skirt.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” You waved off her concern as you continued to wipe away the remaining liquid. The napkins managed to soak up most of it, but your skirt was still damp. If you didn’t change skirts, you were going to smell of milk for the rest of the day, and you didn’t want to start off the school year with a reputation for smelling vile. “I’m going to go back to the dorm really quickly and change into a clean uniform. Please let Mr. Snipe know that I will be late for class.”
“Do you want us to accompany you?” Yaoyorozu asked. She began to rise from her seat, but you stopped her.
“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You gave her what you hoped to be a reassuring grin instead of a grimace. “Thank you for offering, Yaoyorozu, but I’ll be fine.” Before your classmates could respond, you stood from the table and made your way to the exit.
Great, this is just great, you thought as you walked, not really paying attention to where you were going. As soon as I make some friends, I make a fool of myself.
Unbeknownst to you, there was an obstacle in the aisle directly ahead. You were too distracted by your growing inner turmoil to notice the pair of metal chopsticks lying on the ground before you until your foot made contact and slipped out from under you.
It all happened so fast that you couldn’t even react.
Time froze as you became weightless, and you felt your body become briefly suspended in the air. Before you could react and rotate your body to prevent yourself from violently banging your head on the tiled floor, gravity took hold and yanked you back down toward the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to witness your classmates’ reactions to your misfortune.
Great, now I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of the entire school. Fuck you, chopsticks.
You prepared yourself for the pain of hitting the hard floor but were shocked when you were suddenly wrapped in a chilled warmth. You did slam into a hard surface, but this didn’t feel like the cold tile you expected.
“Are you all right?” a voice asked from above. You opened your eyes, only to find yourself captivated by a beautiful graphite and turquoise gaze. Your mouth opened to respond to the inquiry, but you couldn’t speak. This strange yet calming gaze hypnotized you, causing the rest of the world to fade into a buzzing silence. You watched as the perfect eyebrows of the owner of those magical eyes furrowed downward at your prolonged silence, the action momentarily drawing your attention.
With your attention span no longer zeroed in on the heterochromatic gaze, the world around you suddenly slammed back into your senses at full force. The volume of your fellow classmates’ conversations was deafening at first, but your ears grew accustomed once again to zone them out and focus on the person before you.
It took about thirty seconds for the entirety of your current predicament to register within your brain.
You were hanging about ten centimeters off the ground. The only thing keeping you upright and injury-free was Shouto Todoroki’s firm grip on your wrist.
“Um, hello?” the dual-haired teenager once again drew your attention to him. His grip slightly tightened before he tugged you up onto your feet.
“I think you broke her, Icy-Hot.” A rough voice drawled from your peripheral.
The intrusion of the other voice is what finally brought you out of your stunned silence. “No, I’m okay. Not broken.”
“Did you hit your head?” Todoroki inquired. He steadied you on your feet but didn’t release your wrist from his hold. Katsuki Bakugou was standing off to the side, trying to appear like he wasn’t involved with either one of you.
“I-I don’t think so.” As you reached down to brush yourself off, you caught a whiff of the unflattering scent of old milk emitting from your clothes. You held back your gag and turned to face Todoroki and Bakugou. “I’m sorry to rush, but I really do need to go.” You gave a quick bow. “Thank you for catching me, Todoroki. Bye!”
The two boys watched you sprint away like a bat out of hell. “T’fuck is her problem,” Bakugou muttered. “Fuckin’ extra makin’ me late for lunch.”
Todoroki didn’t respond to his classmate’s remarks. His lips pursed together as he watched you nearly run into a couple of first years before you disappeared around a corner, out of sight.
“Don’ even think ‘bout it, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou drawled from beside him. Todoroki cocked an eyebrow, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise indifferent expression. “Gettin’ involved with ‘hat extra will ruin your precious bloodline.”
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You tried to forget about the cafeteria incident, but the embarrassing ordeal refused to secede from the forefront of your mind. As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers a minute, antagonizing and overanalyzing every second of what had happened.
As the night dragged on, your thoughts shifted from the overall event to one single individual: Shouto Todoroki. You knew who he was, of course. You didn’t grow up underneath a rock. Yet, you weren’t prepared for how much more handsome he was in person than on the news or in photos.
You overanalyzed everything he did in the brief two minutes you were blessed to be in his company, every word he said, and every brief flash of emotion that showed in his heterochromatic eyes. Todoroki had tried to approach you after training in Ground Beta once you had returned from the dorms, but you avoided him, not wanting to face him again so soon after the embarrassing first meeting.
By Sunday, you had begun to forget about your embarrassing cafeteria incident. Your newfound friends didn’t bring up the spilled milk, and thankfully, they didn’t see you slip on the chopsticks and fall into Shouto Todoroki’s muscular arms. You breathed a sigh of relief when you found out that last part. You didn’t want them to think you were a total klutz.
Todoroki may think otherwise.
As you were rounding the corner to walk back up the stairs to head back to your dorm room, Todoroki happened to be walking down. You both turned at the same time and walked straight into each other.
He wasn’t fazed by the sudden collision; however, you were taken completely off guard. No matter how strong you may be, suddenly walking into about a hundred kilos of pure muscle would make anyone stumble. While he remained steadily standing, you, on the other hand, fell back onto your ass.
It took about three seconds for the two of you to comprehend what the hell had just happened. You groaned out when pain flashed across your backside.
“My apologies, I did not see you.” Todoroki said as he offered you a hand. You begrudgingly accepted his assistance, face heating as your super handsome classmate helped you to your feet for the second time in a week.
“Thank you,” you bowed your head to him. You brushed away some dust from your sweatpants, finding yourself too shy to look back up.
You felt a firm, yet gentle hand land on your shoulder. You jerked your head upwards to meet Todoroki’s captivating gaze. “Are you injured?” His heterochromatic eyes searched you for any injury, and they glimmered with relief when he found none.
“No, I’m okay,” you reassured the male. “I may be a little bruised in the morning, but I will be fine.” Not to mention my bruised ego.
Todoroki hummed in acknowledgment, his hand still resting on your shoulder. His eyes were hyper-fixated on you, leaving you to feel bare under his intense gaze.
You shifted your weight back and forth as the silence between you dragged on for a couple more seconds. “Um, I—” You cleared your throat. “I should be on my way now. Got things to study, you know.” You told him with an awkward laugh.
You moved to step around him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to move. Your movements are what must have shaken him out of his stupor, with him bashfully stepping to the side to allow you access to the stairway.
“Right.” He said as you walked by. “Take care, Y/N.” You startled at his sudden usage of your given name, but nevertheless, you felt oddly relieved. You smiled shyly and bid him goodbye. Nothing else was said between the two of you, but you felt his eyes on you as you walked up the stairs.
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I hope he likes cinnamon; you thought as you peered into the oven.
To be fair, you should have considered that before laboring for over two hours making kinako cinnamon cookies from scratch—which absolutely failed. Therefore, as a last resort, you were forced to run to the store and buy a box mix.
The he in question?
Shouto Todoroki.
It had been several days since your embarrassing first interaction with the dual-haired male and forty-five hours since your second, literal, run-in—not that you were keeping track, of course.
You wanted to do something nice for him as a way to apologize for your newfound clumsiness and thank him for his assistance in both instances. Your calligraphy skills were not . . . up to par, so to say, by any means, so a handmade thank-you card was off the table, and you highly doubt Todoroki was a flower guy. Not to mention his affluent background, so buying him a gift or offering to take him out to dinner was null—and way too straightforward for two people who were barely even acquaintances.
Therefore, you were left with only one option: homemade cookies.
Besides, all the old aunties back home always said the quickest way to win anyone over was through food.
“Ooooh, something smells amazing!” someone exclaimed from the stairway. Smiling slyly to yourself, you turned away from the oven to the new arrival.
You hadn’t interacted much with Rikido Sato save for the casual good morning greetings and thanking him for the delicious red velvet cupcake he baked for you as a welcoming gift to U.A.
“Thanks,” you said, grinning at the male.
The combined low mutterings of more approaching classmates brought your and Sato’s attention to the doorway where Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, and Hanta Sero were entering the dorm.
“Woah something smells fantastic!” Kaminari said, gazing into the kitchen in hopes of spotting the source of the delicious scent.
“Yeah, it does!” Kirishima agreed.
“Oh my gosh, what is it?” Ashido asked as she walked over. Her eyes lit up when she spotted you. “L/N! Did you make something?”
“I did.” You confirmed with a slight nod. “I’m making kinako cinnamon cookies.”
“Oooooh, yummy!” the pinkette exclaimed as she bounced over to peer into the oven. Your other classmates quickly joined her, all of them staring into the soft, golden light of the oven with stars in their eyes.
“They look so good!” Kaminari was practically drooling at the tawny treats. At that moment, the timer went off with a soft ting! You politely shooed your classmates back as you pulled a hand towel over your hands.
“Step back, everyone,” you warned as you opened the oven door. “They’re going to be hot.” You carefully reached in and grabbed the cooking tray, cautiously sliding it off the rack and fully into your cloth-covered hands. Despite taking precautions, you hissed as the hot aluminum seeped through the towel and made contact with your flesh. As quickly as you could without dropping the pan of cookies, you turned and set it down on the kitchen island.
“These look delicious!”
“Woah, man, they look amazing!”
“I bet they taste as scrumptious as they lo—”
You zoned out the boys’ compliments as you moved to the sink and turned on the tap.
“L/N, are you okay?” Ashido asked as she followed you. Her question caught the other's attention, and they, too, turned to watch you quizzingly.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Your response ended with a wince as your skin made contact with the cool water.
“Here, let me see,” Ashido gestured to your hand. With your permission, she took your wrist with gentle fingers and held it up for you both to inspect. Your skin was reddened slightly, but it wasn’t anything serious. You let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, thankfully, but we should still put some burn cream on it just in case,” Ashido advised as she turned off the tap.
You nodded your head again and followed the pink-haired girl as she went to retrieve the first-aid kit. Before you walked too far from the kitchen, you shouted over your shoulder to your classmates, “Please don’t eat the cookies, boys! They are still hot and are for someone special!”
There was a noticeable delay in response to your warning. After a pregnant pause, there was a muffled, “okamph!” in response. You were about to turn around and make sure that they weren’t eating your treats, but Ashido calling your name changed your plans.
“Let’s fix you up, yeah?” She said as you both entered the girls' bathroom. Ashido gestured for you to sit on the counter while she dug through the first-aid kit for burn cream.
“Thank you, Ashido,” you said a few moments later as she lightly applied the cream to the worst of the reddening. Your skin wasn’t blistering, which was a good sign, but it was beginning to ache.
“No problem,” she replied. She began to gently rub the cream into your skin, mindful of the sore spots. She beamed at you as she said, “And you can just call me Mina. We are friends!”
You smiled at her. “Okay, Mina.” The two of you were silent for a couple of minutes as Mina continued to dress your burns.
“So,” she started, breaking the silence. “Who did you make the cookies for?”
You sharply inhaled. “W-what? What do you mean?” You tried to play it off by playing dumb, but Mina gave you an are you kidding me look.
“Don’t play that game with me, girl.” She scolded you. “So, tell me, who is this ‘special someone’?”
You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “One of our classmates. . .” You trailed off, turning away from the pinkette, and absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around your finger.
Mina’s eyes lit up and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh my God, seriously?!?” She squealed. You turned to face her again. “Girl, you absolutely gotta tell me! Who is it?!” She went to grab ahold of your hands but stopped herself when she remembered your injury. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” You said. “But, um, I—” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but you couldn’t find them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You said, barely above a whisper, turning away from your classmate once more in embarrassment.
Mina leaned back, taken by surprise by your change of tone. She studied you for a few seconds, her expression falling when she saw the look on your face; the clenching of your jaw.
“It’s okay, girl,” she reassured you. She set the roll of bandages down on the counter as she finished wrapping your hand. “You don’t have to tell me who your crush is if you don’t want to.”
You whipped back around to face her, eyes wide. “C-crush?!” you stammered out. “W-what?! I don’t have a crush! I never said I did.” you explained.
“Yeah, sure,” Mina smirked at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t of baked cookies for them if you didn’t like them.”
“Um, because I’m nice?” you asked with a lilt in your voice. Mina does have a point, though, you thought.
Mina laughed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”
A couple of minutes later, you and the pinkette exited the bathroom, laughing over something Mina had said. Your hand had been expertly wrapped and treated with some burn cream. Your injury didn’t even hurt anymore, but you were still going to check in tomorrow with Recovery Girl as a precaution.
As you rounded the corner to go back into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes fell to the now-empty pan where twenty cookies sat not even ten minutes ago. Mina stopped next to you, and you could see her giving you a questionable look, but you didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge her. You just stared blankly at the pan, trying to process what you were seeing.
What the hell? you thought.
“Ah, man,” a voice drawled out. You slowly turned towards the source; Denki Kaminari. He was lounging against the counter as he rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Those cinnamon kinako cookies were delicious!” Your brain blanked out when you heard that, the organ pathetically trying to comprehend and respond to the current situation.
“You’re telling me!” Kirishima piped up from beside the blond. Sero and Sato voiced their agreement from where they were seated on the couches. “They really hit the spot after the day I had.” The redhead noticed you and Mina. “Hey, guys, welcome back!” he greeted with a wave, a broad smile overtaking his features. “How’s your hand?”
You did not formulate an answer right away, your brain still processing the crumbled remains of your cookies. Your delay didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but before they could question it, Mina came to your rescue.
“It’s okay! Y/N is alright, nothing major.” She informed them. Kirishima’s gaze left you to focus on the pinkette by your side, but Kaminari’s remained transfixed on your blank expression.
“Oh, well, that’s great to hear! I was worried—”
“But you should be ashamed!” Mina cut the redhead off, tone sharp as a blade. “All of you.”
“What—?”
“Mina, why—?”
Kirishima and Kaminari spoke at once, their voices clashing, but the pinkette interrupted them once more.
“Y/N didn’t make those cookies for you.” She said. “She made them for someone special, yet you guys ate them even after she told you not to.” She just about bit the last part out. The boys gaped at Mina, her scolding catching them by surprise.
“Is that true?” Sato asked, rising from the couch to approach you. Everyone fixated their attention on you, waiting for a response.
You hesitated at the sudden limelight, and also in shyness. When you originally set out to bake the kinako cookies for Todoroki, you didn’t expect them to 1.) burn your hand and 2.) for them to be eaten by others. Even though you were upset, you didn’t want the others to be ashamed or scolded. But they did eat them after I told them not to, you thought, pondering your next move.
After a few moments, you squared your shoulders and steadily said, “Yes. I . . . made them for somebody.” At your words, the room’s atmosphere soured. The boys’ shoulders slumped as they realized their mistake.
“Shoot, L/N, I’m sorry,” Kaminari said, stepping forward to gently grab your uninjured hand and bow.
“Yeah,” Kirishima added, scratching the back of his neck and looking away slightly. “That wasn’t really manly of us.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Sero intoned, looking sheepish.
Sato came to stand in front of you next to Kaminari, who still had a gentle hold of your hand. “I’ll be more than happy to remake the cookies for you.” He said. “If you want that, of course.”
You smiled, though it was closed-lipped. “Thank you, Sato, but not today.” He bowed his head.
Suddenly, the front doors slammed open, startling the six of you. You all watched, shell-shacked—you did, at least—as a fuming Bakugou stepped inside, loudly exclaiming, “I had ‘hat dumbass villain handled! Damn Sidekick extra jus’ had to step ‘n and—” He noticed your little group gaping at him. “The hell ‘re ya fools lookin’ at?” As the words left his mouth, the other two members of the infamous U.A. trio entered as well.
“Kacchan,” Izuku Midoriya said, trying to placate the explosive male. “He was just trying to . . .” The rest of his sentence fizzled into the background as the entirety of your attention span landed on Shouto Todoroki.
It had already been well-established that the youngest Todoroki son was even more handsome in person, but seeing him in his Hero costume did things to you. Your mouth almost dropped open to gawk at his god-like appearance, but you clenched your jaw tightly shut to avoid that catastrophe. Despite that, you were pretty positive your eyes were as wide as saucers, greedily taking every inch of him in as if it were the last time you would see him.
I should sue him for the cost of my medical bills when I develop heart palpitations, you thought.
“Shut the hell up, ya stupid nerd.” Bakugou snapped at a sputtering Midoriya, drawing your attention once more. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.
“Is he always this angry?” you asked under your breath; half-serious, half-rhetorical.
“Oh, yeah,” Mina confirmed, voice just as low.
Sero snickered from his post next to Sato. “You get used to it after a while,” he reassured you.
One of Kirishima’s blinding smiles makes its appearance once again. “Katsuki’s always been passionate about, well, everything.” He told you, not bothering to lower his voice. “It’s who he is. We love him regardless.”
Sato chimed in with, “Platonically.” The boys snickered and Mina rolled her eyes, yet there was a small smile playing on her lips.
“Even though his sour attitude can be harsh and lowkey over the top,” Kaminari began, eyes shining with mischief. “It sure makes him fun to mess with!” Your companions groaned in exasperation and started to voice their reservations.
“No, Denki. Leave him be—” Mina urged him.
“Awe, come on, man. Don’t—”
“Heyy~ Katsuki,” Kaminari crooned, rocking back on his heels as the pale blond’s attention zeroed in on him. Kirishima and Sato facepalmed. “Why have trouble catching a ‘dumbass villain’?” he teased. “Bad day? Your head not in the game?” The hair on your arms rose to attention as an electric charge swept the room, putting everyone on edge. Kaminari’s baiting also drew the attention of the explosive male’s companions. Your eyes briefly met captivating graphite and turquoise, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave your lungs.
“You’re gonna regret the day you were born, dumbass!” Bakugou bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the electric blond, snapping your attention from the hypnotizing gaze. You fully expected him to charge the male, already taking a cautionary step back, but instead of explosions ripping apart the building, Bakugou grunted and moved towards the showers.
Mina turned to the blond and shouted, “Now why did you do that, Denki? You know better than to rile Katsuki up like that!”
Kirishima dragged a large hand down his face before running it through his unruly red locks. “I’ll go check on him,” he announced before jogging after the sandy-blond. You were at a loss for words as you continued to watch your classmates scold a shit-grinning Kaminari, not even the tiniest bit remorseful for his teasing of Bakugou.
“Please don’t take Kacchan’s rashness to heart.” A new voice piped up. You turned to meet the electric green gaze of none other than Izuku Midoriya, the new generation’s proclaimed Symbol of Peace. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t think we have properly met. I’ve been in and out of campus lately—with missions and such.” He practically skipped over to stand in front of you. He smiled brightly as he gently took your hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m so happy you are here at U.A.!” he excitedly exclaimed, lightly squeezing your entwined hands. You couldn’t hide your wince and small gasp of pain as Midoriya unknowingly squeezed your burns. The green-haired male let go of your hands so fast as if he was the one burned instead of you, eyes growing wide. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” he asked, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your hand. Midoriya’s frenzy caught the other's attention, and all eyes were on you yet again.
The tips of your ears grew hot at the unwavering attention from the Heroes-in-training—especially from a certain icy-hot male who made your heart falter in its beating. “Y-yeah, I’m f-fine.” You stuttered as you met each of your classmate's gazes, trying to reassure them of your stability.
“What happened?” Todoroki inquired, eyes hawkishly zeroed in on your face.
“U-um, well . . .” you trailed off, words fading from your brain as you slightly cowered under his unwavering attention. “I—”
“She burned herself while baking kinako cookies,” Sero spoke for you, having caught onto your growing anxiousness. You didn’t miss Todoroki’s eyes narrowing at the black-haired male’s words. Sato and Kaminari made noises of agreement, the blond absentmindedly rubbing his stomach in content.
Midoriya’s eyes shined. “Really? You did?!” He looked behind you to the kitchen, eyes searching for the aforementioned treats. “Where are they?” he asked when he didn’t spot any, only a plate littered with crumbs. He turned his attention back to you. You opened your mouth to answer, but a wave of shame overcame you as your eyes once again met those of the one you had made the cookies for.
Mina noticed your hesitation, giving you a knowing look as she answered for you. “The three idiots to your left ate them all,” she said with a little bite to her words, glaring daggers at the culprits. “After they were specifically told not to.” She reaffirmed. The boys shuddered at the reminder of their disobedience. The pinkette turned her attention back to the green-haired and dual-haired males. “I patched her up, though. The burns are minor.”
Midoriya nodded his head in understanding. “You should still see Recovery Girl,” he instructed, unashamedly expressing his concern for someone he had just properly met. “At least let her take a look at it.”
“I’m going to stop by to see her in the morning,” you reassured him, words coming back now that your mind was a little clear. His shoulders slumped in relief.
“You should rest, Y/N.” Todoroki’s searing gaze trailed over your form, calculating eyes searching for any additional outward signs of injury or discomfort. “After suffering an injury, no matter how insignificant, rest is important.” He softly chided.
“R-right.” You stammered out, at a loss for how else to respond to your handsome classmate's concern other than compliance. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at that moment. Your feet stumbled as you became lightheaded for a split second. You noticed the dual-haired male take a step towards you, catching onto your sudden exhaustion, but you quickly rightened yourself. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You’re not exactly sure why you thanked him, or what for. His concern, perhaps? He subtly nodded as you turned from the small group, breathlessly mumbling some sort of farewell and something about retiring to your room for the rest of the day.
The others muttered their goodbyes as you made your way to the stairwell.
As you walked up the stairs, head hung low, your throat began to burn and your vision began to blur with tears. The first one fell when you reached your floor, quickly followed by a couple more. You wiped them away, sniffing, as you made your way to your door. You didn’t react to the sudden presence next to you and the weight draped around your shoulders.
Mina didn’t say anything, only traced comforting circles into your back as tears flowed freely down your cheeks.
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The next day, you and your classmates were gathered outside Gym Gamma for an impromptu training session. You were surprised that Class 3-A still regularly trained together, but in your defense, that assumption came from someone who didn’t have many options when it came to sparing partners up until your transfer—a major shortcoming in retrospect.
“Today we are working on ‘last stand’ combat.” Mr. Aizawa drawled in his natural I Don’t Give A Fuck tone. “Close-quarter combat in which a violent assailant has obtained the upper hand and corners you in an attempt to defeat you.” He proceeded to explain the instructions of the training exercise and pair the students into groups of four who would take turns being the Heroes and the assailants.
“Midoriya will be with Jirou.” Mr. Aizawa intoned, briefly glancing at the two students to confirm they heard. “Todoroki will be with L/N.” Your muscles stiffened when you heard that. Your heart began to race as you watched the red-and-white-haired male make his way over to you.
“H-hi,” you greeted him, giving a soft smile.
“Hello,” he said, politely inclining his head. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Same here.” You said before facing forward once more as the first group began their round. You and Todoroki observed the match in silence, with you paying extra attention to your classmates’ movements and taking mental notes of how they incorporated their Quirks into hand-to-hand combat.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Expecting the new additions to be Ochako and Asui, you turned to greet them with a warm smile but paused when instead of your friends, Midoriya and Kyoka Jirou were standing next to you, both with warm expressions on their faces.
“Hi!” Midoriya greeted with a wide smile and a small wave. “I’m excited for this training exercise! It’s going to be so cool to see everyone’s improvement with hand-to-hand combat over the break! And any new moves! Or Quirk Awakenings! Or—” You had a hard time keeping up with what he was saying as it turned into a stuttering rant as he went on about each individual’s Quirk.
The rumors were true regarding his ramblings, you mused to yourself, wondering how long he could go on for before a small hand on his shoulder made him take pause.
“Midoriya,” Jirou intoned. “Calm down.” His cheeks flushed a bright red. He began laughing nervously while absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.
“S-sorry,” he said, shyfully.
“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I agree with your stance, though. Observing others' skills is an effective way to improve your own. Get an idea or two.” You turned your attention back to the ongoing training, taking mental notes of your classmates’ fighting stances and their defensive moves, trying to get a better understanding of the why behind them. You pulled a small item from your jacket pocket, absentmindedly rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger. The movement caught Midoriya’s attention.
“What is that?” he asked, green eyes alight with curiosity.
“What? This?” You held up your good luck charm; a small, pink parrot keychain from a popular cartoon series you had won years ago at one of your hometown’s summer festivals. It was lucky because at the moment, while little you were trying to win, your Quirk had manifested. “It’s my good luck charm,” you explained the pink parrot’s value to you.
“Oh, cool!” Midoriya exclaimed. “You know, I used to have a good luck charm—it was my super rare exclusive All Might trading card! First edition!” His eyes shined as he reminisced. “I would bring it with me everywhere! Even Kacchan—”
“Deku,” drawled a low voice from the other side of your gathered class. The temperature fell as Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed onto Midoriya. “Don’t say another word.”
“He’s such a fanboy.” Jirou chuckled, fondness seeping into her voice. Midoriya smiled sheepishly, not bothering even to try to deny the label. You spent the time until your group’s turn getting to know the two, quickly finding out that you and Jirou share the same taste in music; vowing to swap playlists after class. You were so caught up in your conversation that you almost forgot about Todoroki's presence, if not for the awareness of a body next to you. His chilled warmth seeped into your muscles, causing you to relax one moment, and tense up another.
“Are you all right?” he softly inquired, spying your tensed posture.
“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied, softly smiling but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Just a lil’ nervous, is all.”
Todoroki frowned slightly, not understanding how you could be experiencing anxiousness. “Wh—?”
“Oh yeah!” Midoriya suddenly interjected. “This is going to be your first time demonstrating your Quirk, huh?” he asked you. “Or at least this is gonna be the first time I will see it. What is it again? Object—no—um, yeah, anyway I bet it is awesome!” His eyes still shined with his enthusiasm and curiosity. “Sometime you gotta let me ask you about it! I have so many! Does it work like Ochako’s Zero Gravity? Or Yaoyorozu’s Creation?”
You couldn’t help but give a small laugh at his eagerness. You had never met someone as enthusiastic about Quirks as Izuku Midoriya. It was kind of refreshing to interact with someone as passionate as he was.
“Kind of,” you began, silently pondering over what you know of the brunette’s Quirk and comparing it to your own. “Ochako and I have the same limitations when it comes to the weight of an object, but besides that, our Quirks are different.” Your Quirk was object manipulation; you could telepathically manipulate objects within a certain range. To you, your Quirk wasn’t all that—wasn’t anything unique by any means—but to others, you were seen as a powerful goddess. “To be honest, I’m lacking in hand-to-hand combat skills.” You sheepishly smiled.
“Really?” Midoriya asked, blinking in shock. “I thought your previous school would have prepared you for all types of situations.” Jirou nodded her agreement with the green-haired male. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Shouto continue to observe you with a calculating expression on his face.
“Unfortunately, no.” You shrugged. “Their curriculum was more focused on improving the individual’s Quirk than learning how to fight without it.”
“Oh, wow,” Jirou said. “That could put you at a great disadvantage down the line.”
You nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why—” You were cut off by Mr. Aizawa calling for your group to begin your training round. “Welp, this is it, I guess.” You chuckled nervously.
Midoriya gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great!” he said, giving you a thumbs-up accompanied by a warm smile.
“Do your best,” Jirou added before moving towards the training pitch.
You started to follow, but a cool hand on your shoulder made you pause, shivering softly. You turned to find Todoroki giving you an expectant look. “You’ll do fine,” he said, confidently. He looked as if he put his entire faith in you. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”
You felt a surge of confidence fill you at his words. You gave him a determined look. “Right,” you said. “We got this.”
You swear up and down his eyes twinkled when he looked at you, but it could have been a trick of the light. “You got this.” He replied, softly. The two of you walked into the pitch together, side by side.
The training went . . . not terrible, but it could have been better on your end.
Todoroki, Midoriya, and Jirou were amazing. Even without using their Quirks, they each were a force to be reckoned with. You were captivated by how swiftly they moved—as if they were ballerinas performing Danse des Petits Cygnes.
You weren’t on the same level as them and the rest of Class 3-A. You knew that, and you acknowledged it, but to see and be confronted by it so bluntly in person made you feel a whole other level of embarrassment and shame. You weren’t weak by any means, you could hold your own in a fight for some time, but not like your classmates could—and had.
Perhaps that is what separates you from your classmates. They have battle experience. Hell, they fought in a fucking war for crying out loud while you were on the other side of the country, guarding civilian shelters. You were fortunate not to see much bloodshed, but maybe that brought you to a disadvantage against these future Heroes surrounding you.
The horn had sounded as Jirou pinned you in the dirt for the sixth time, signaling the end of the round. You heard the sounds of Midoriya and Todoroki’s scuffling come to a halt from somewhere off to your left as Jirou lifted herself off of you. She offered you a hand as you began to rise from the ground. You accepted her extended hand with a grimace as the muscles in your back burned.
“Nice work.” Mr. Aizawa said as the four of you approached. “You performed adequately,” he addressed Jirou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. He turned to you. “You, not so much.”
You flinched as the words landed home. Damn, you thought, but he’s not wrong. You had naively allowed yourself to believe that Eraserhead wouldn’t call out your inferiority, at least in front of others. Then again, he was Eraserhead—infamous for his bluntness and apathy.
“Your skills are greatly lacking in hand-to-hand combat,” he continued. “I haven’t seen somebody so physically inadequate since your classmates were first years. Coming from another Hero Course, especially one with its reputation, it’s to be expected that you’re not up to par with your new classmates, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” As he spoke, he never broke eye contact with you, scrutinizing you. Even with one eye, his unrelenting gaze made you feel as if he could see every minuscule detail about you. “Based on the performance I saw today, it was a mistake to put you in this class.”
You heard a gasp from one of your classmates; its owner unknown. You gulped down your shame and remained silent. You had a feeling Aizawa wasn’t finished with you.
“From here on out, I expect you to train harder and push yourself further than anyone else. Extra training, extra classes—anything that will make you catch up.” His eye narrowed. “If I do not see substantial improvement in one month, you will be expelled. No exceptions.”
Your eyes widened, but your shock did not stop you from replying. “Yes, sir.” You said, keeping your tone neutral as you mulled over his words. Although extreme, I understand the reason for Mr. Aizawa’s methods, you thought. He’s right though. I’m far from even scrapping the level these guys are on. I need to be more disciplined and work even harder if I want to stand on equal ground with my classmates. Resolve made, you promised, “I will go Plus Ultra!”
“Yaass, Y/N!” Mina cheered. “Woohoo!”
Aizawa didn’t say anything else to you, promptly dismissing the class. Midoriya praised your performance and commented on his wish to sit down and talk in-depth with you regarding your Quirk. You promptly accepted his request, telling him you would let him know when you were free. He smiled before walking off to join Iida and Ochako.
“If it means anything,” a voice suddenly intoned from behind you. You spun around, having not sensed the person's approach. You weren’t all that surprised to find Todoroki there, softly regarding you. “I think you did well.”
You scoffed but smiled softly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to patronize me. I have a lot of work to do if I want to catch up.”
“You will,” he declared, before quickly clarifying, “Catch up. Especially with my help.”
You furrowed your brows. “Excuse me?”
“Should I repeat myself?” he inquired, his heterochromatic eyes swimming in mirth. “I will assist you in your training and classes.”
You didn’t respond right away, regarding him with suspicion. You waited for him to name a condition for his help, but when he offered none, you relaxed. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You inclined your head. “I greatly appreciate it.”
“Shouto,” he corrected.
You blinked at him, taken aback. “What?”
“Shouto,” he reiterated. “You may call me Shouto. We are friends, are we not?”
You gaped at him for a moment, processing his words. “Ye-yeah!” you said a little too loudly. “We are friends, Shouto.”
The small smile that graced his lips lit up your entire world and caused your heart to speed up, pounding almost painfully against your ribcage. “Meet me here tomorrow after class.” He instructed.
“Tomorrow.” You repeated in confirmation.
His smile grew a little wider. “See you then, Y/N.” He said before turning on his heel and strolling away. You watched him go in a daze, in disbelief of what just occurred.
“Oooooooo, Y/N’s gotta date!”
You shrieked at the sudden voice and spun around for a second time to find Mina standing there, hunched over laughing at your reaction.
“Mina!” you shrieked, placing a hand over your heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”
She continued to laugh. “Sorry,” she said once her laughter died down. “You were so entranced with Todoroki that you didn’t even realize I was here!”
“Oh, yeah right.” You responded, playfully rolling your eyes. The two of you began to walk to the dorm. “I wasn’t entranced with him.”
The pinkette gave you a look of disbelief, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, sure,” she retorted. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you ain’t lying to me.”
You scoffed but didn’t attempt to refute her claims. You put your hands in your pockets and looked to the ground, lost in thought. Mina didn’t say anything else, allowing you both to walk in silence.
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The next afternoon, you met Shouto at the training grounds outside Gym Gamma for your first tutored training session. He regarded you kindly as you slowly approached, suddenly feeling quite bashful.
“Thank you for offering to do this, Shouto.” You said when you arrived. “It really means a lot. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”
“There’s no need for repayment.” He softly responded. “I volunteered to assist you. Therefore, no repayment of any sort is necessary.”
“Are you sure?” you asked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”
His soft call of your name made your next words die in your throat. “I assure you, this is fine.” He said. “Your company and attention are substantial enough.” You felt your face warm at his admission. Shouto gestured towards the training pit. “Shall we begin?”
He started by teaching you some stretches that are supposed to help decrease sudden muscle spasms and strengthen them. Afterward, he had you show him the little knowledge you had of hand-to-hand combat to gain an idea of where you stand in regard to U.A. training. Once you had demonstrated the few kicks and different styles of punching you knew, you turned to judge Shouto’s impression.
Your breath caught at what you saw.
His handsome features remained stoically blank for the most part, but the pursing of his lips and slight furrowing of his brows spoke a different tale. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like they didn’t prepare you at all, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure.
“Shouto?” you inquired, voice slightly uneven as your mouth formed the syllables of his name. “Is everything alright?”
His beautiful eyes snapped to yours, and once again you were frozen by the intensity with which he looked at you. His gaze was calculating, and you could just about see the cogs turning in his brain as he silently regarded you. A couple long moments later, his lips parted on an exhale and he finally addressed you.
“We have a lot of work to do.” He declared. “But we already knew that.” You slowly nodded your head, curious as to where he would be going with this conversation. “Thankfully, you’re not completely helpless,” he intoned dryly. “Even though you don’t have many skills regarding physical, non-Quirk combat, I have identified several places where we can start, correct, and then build on.”
You steadied yourself, resolve firmer than ever before. You declared, “I’m ready.”
Shouto gave a quick, but detailed, overview of his plans for your ‘training tutoring’, you referred to your sessions as. He was going to teach you everything he thought you should know—which was everything he knew—in order to successfully become a Hero people could rely on.
The two of you began by improving your physique. You joined him on his early morning run along with Midoriya and Bakugou, who welcomed you with contrasting fervor. When you met for your afternoon training, you would run five kilometers before learning various grades of combat moves, and then concluding your time together by sparring.
It was established early on that neither of you would use your Quirks during your tutoring as the two of you were well-adapted to your respective Quirks—and the strict rules regarding their usage.
For the next several weeks, you worked tirelessly on your training, and your dedication and hard work paid off. At your end-of-the-month assessment, Aizawa was pleased by your rapid and exceptional improvement and announced you could stay at U.A. He also informed you that it was never his intention to expel you in the first place, but nevertheless, he was impressed by your efforts.
You and Shouto continued to grow closer as time went by. You still had your training tutoring sessions in the afternoons, and you became a regular on his early morning runs. You even hung out outside of class and training; preparing pre-workout meals and drinks together, and various study sessions at all hours of the day and night. Once, you even packed him a small canister of his favorite brand of soba noodles for lunch one of the weekends he was interning at his father’s Agency. When he came back to the dorm after his shift, he made a beeline for you and promptly informed you that from then on out, you would be solely responsible for packing his lunches.
“Now why would I do that?” you implored. You crossed your arms, awaiting his response. “Are you gonna pay me?”
Shouto slowly blinked at you in the way a cat would. “Why would I compensate you for an action you chose to do?”
You had no retort for that.
As you spent more time together, you noticed some changes. Shouto would stare at you for seemingly no reason, and whenever you called him out on it, he feigned innocence. He also sought you out more often, insisting on walking to your next class or to and from the dorm by your side. He even began to occupy you on your shopping runs, dutifully holding your bags for you. And whenever you would thank or compliment him, his whole demeanor would light up as if Aphrodite herself had shown favor towards him.
You weren’t any better, though.
If Shouto would do so much as even blink in your general direction, your heart would soar and butterflies would take flight in your stomach. At first, you brushed it off as nerves for being the subject of the Shouto Todoroki’s attention, but you were in denial, not wanting to admit what was actually occurring. Looking back, you realized that deep down, you had known all along what was happening, but at the time, you weren’t ready to admit it—to yourself and him.
Regardless of your rebuttals and lack of admission, you were falling for your dual-haired classmate, hard and fast, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.
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3 months later . . .
“Y/N! It’s starting! You’re gonna miss it!” Ochako shouted from the couches, the other girls of Class 3-A surrounding her, all dressed in comfortable loungewear. It was the class's annual Girl’s Movie Night, which was held every couple of months. Tooru told you earlier that week that they would like to have it more often, like once a month, but given their hectic and ever-changing schedules, the girls had to settle for every few months. They took turns who got to pick out the movie. It was Mina’s turn this time. True to her nature, she selected an early 2000s chick flick set in the States.
“Hold on, wait for me!” you hollered back as you finished pouring the freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl, a few kernels spilling out as you whirled on your heels to sprint into the living area. You nearly tripped over Jirou’s legs as you practically threw yourself towards the last remaining free spot on the couch.
“Ah, sorry!” you exclaimed as you settled yourself into the cushions, checking over Jirou and your popcorn bowl. “Did I miss anything?”
“No, it’s just starting,” Momo said, taking a sip from her cup of tea as the opening credits began to roll.
“Ooh, this is one of my all-time favorite movies!” Mina squealed next to you. “Have you ever seen it before?” she asked.
You hummed, acknowledging her question. You thought hard, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen the characters on the screen before. “I’m not sure,” you said. “I don’t think so.”
The pinkette gasped aloud and theatrically placed a hand on her chest, sprawling backward. “Y/N! You wound me!”
Across the room, Tooru piped up from her spot next to Asui. “How could you not have?! It’s only one of the greatest movies ever made!”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Ochako interjected. “Gonna have to disagree.” You expected them to start arguing back and forth over what is truly the greatest movie ever made, like your friends back home would have done, but they don’t. Mina stuck her tongue out at Ochako before turning back to the movie.
You all watched the movie in relative silence, save for the light background noise of popcorn moving around in a bowl and slurping from a now-empty straw. It was nice, peaceful; a well-deserved and appreciated respite from the grinding hustle of being Pro-Heroes-in-training.
“Just confess already!” Jirou shouted at the screen as the main character allowed another opportunity for them to confess their feelings for their classmate slip through their fingers. “Gosh!” A corner of your mouth curled at her irritation. A few grumbles of agreement sounded from the others as the movie continued playing.
You had to stifle your laughter as the main characters continued to pine after one another, completely oblivious to the other’s growing feelings. I can’t believe there are actually people in the world who are like them, you silently mused. It’s so obvious they like each other. I can’t believe they don’t see it.
“Ugh, the anticipation and pining is killing me!” Tooru cried out, her slippers moving frantically in the air as she kicked her legs.
Asui raised a brow. “I thought you’ve seen this movie before?”
“Well, yeah, I have,” the invisible female said. “But the suspense still gets to me!”
“It is quite intense.” Ochako agreed. “I hope they confess soon. It hurts to see them think the other doesn’t return their feelings.”
“I don’t understand how they cannot.” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. The girls turned to look at you as you continued, “I mean, they’re so obvious.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda annoying at this point,” Jirou mumbled.
Mina snickered. “Y/N, as if you’re one to talk.”
You gave her a questioning look, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, come on. You’re so obvious, too, with your crush—”
You cut her off, “I do not have a crush.”
“You have a crush?” Asui asked. You and Mina responded at the same time.
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, she does.”
“What is this about?” Momo inquired, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.
“Nothi—” you began but was swiftly interrupted by the pinkette next to you.
“Y/N has a crush on Todoroki!”
The girls gasped and gapped at you, eyes wide.
“I do not!” You said, face burning as you tried to mitigate the situation. “We’re not like that!”
“Oh my.” You thought you heard Momo say under her breath, but you couldn’t really hear since Tooru started shrieking with glee.
“You guys would be the cutest couple!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her spot on the couch and racing over to pull you into a tight embrace.
“I mean, it does make sense given they spend so much time together.” Ochako mused, a finger on her chin as she considered the situation.
Asui jumped on the bandwagon with, “Oh they are definitely into each other.”
“One hundred percent,” Mina agreed.
“Girl, you gotta spill the tea!” Tooru exclaimed as she pulled away. “Tell us everything!” The others voiced their agreement.
“I do admit, I am curious as to how this relationship came to be,” Momo vocalized, setting her tea cup down onto its saucer. “That is if the two of you have gotten that far into your companionship.”
You blinked at the midnight-black-haired woman, shock clouding your brain for a moment as you processed her words. “Um, n-no. We aren’t in any type of r-romantic relationship.” You clarified, but immediately you could tell certain people thought your answer was complete horse poop. “We aren’t!”
“Regardless, you guys are pretty close,” Ochako interjected. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
Jirou nodded in agreement. “And all the extra training you do together.”
“The early morning runs,” Asui added.
“Okay, okay,” you threw your hands up in a placating manner. “I understand what you guys are trying to get at, but you’re wrong.”
Mina came to stand beside you, giving you a knowing look. “Girl, Y/N,” she began. “You can try with all your might to deny it, but it’s obvious what is really going on between you and Shouto.” She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And I know you know it, too.”
You stared at the pinkette, pondering her and the other’s words. You wanted to continue denying what they were saying, but you were getting tired of denying your feelings to yourself. You slumped your shoulders, the tension leaving your body as you resolved to come clean with the truth—to yourself and your friends, besides a certain dual-haired male. “Alright, fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, mentally preparing yourself for their reaction to your next statement. “I like him a little.” You confessed, looking at the floor, too afraid to meet any of their gazes.
The room was dead silent for two breaths before Mina erupted in choking laughter. “’A little’? Yeah RIGHT!” She laughed so hard that tears began to stream down her pink cheeks. After she managed to calm down a bit, she turned to face you fully, laying a hand on your knee. “Girl, you’re lying to yourself.” She told you, tone light yet serious. “We have all seen the way you look at Shouto—” the others nod in confirmation. “—and your eyes tell it all.”
You flinched as embarrassment flooded you. “Is it really that obvious?” you asked. You turned to the others to gauge their reactions. “Am I?” They all nodded.
“Definitely.”
“For sure.”
“We could see it from a mile away.”
You gasped. “Oh my,” you covered your face with your hands. “Do you think Shouto knows?”
“I doubt so,” Momo said. “Shouto is quite intelligent and a formidable force to be reckoned with, but as I’m sure you’re aware, his experience and understanding of social concepts and cues are fairly limited.”
“In other words,” Jirou interjected. “He’s none the wiser.”
You released a sigh of relief. At least he doesn’t think I’m a psycho stalker or something.
“Hey, give him some credit, guys,” Ochako remarked. “Todoroki’s more aware than he’s given credit for.”
“Moving on,” Mina said. “Have you thought about confessing your feelings to him?”
You crossed your arms over your chest, shamefully looking away. “No. . .”
“What?!”
“Really?!” Tooru shouted. “But he’s so hot!” The sleeves of her shirt crossed in front of her. “I would do anything to be his girlfriend.”
You laughed. “While you are correct about his handsomeness, I don’t even know where I would begin or how I would confess.”
“Your feelings are valid, Y/N,” Asui assured you. “Confessing one’s feelings for another is a life-changing occurrence.”
“You gotta do it before graduation in a couple months, though,” Ochako added. “If not, then you may never get another chance to do so.”
“Why do you say that?” you asked. “As Pros, wouldn’t we work together often? Why does it need to be before we graduate and turn Pro?”
“Possibly, but with our chosen line of work, there is always a possibility. . .” she trailed off with a grimace.
You understood immediately. “Oh.”
“Although rare in the line of duty, it does happen.” Momo said. “I wouldn’t worry about that though, but I agree with Ochako.”
“Plus,” Mina began, mischief glowing in her eyes. “If the two of you get together before you make your Pro Hero debut to the world, you wouldn’t have to worry about him falling in love with some random civilian he rescues on the street or another Pro.”
You nodded. “You have a point.”
“Either way, I think it will all work out in the end,” Ochako said, her cheeks widening with her smile. “I think perhaps Shouto returns your feelings, and just simply doesn’t know what to do about them or how to address them, therefore you should tell him.” The other girls voiced their agreement.
“Yeah, it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture or anything,” Jirou said.
“Just be honest with him, Y/N,” Asui said.
“Yeah, girl,” Mina added, giving you a warm smile when you met her gaze. “You got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”
You squared your shoulders as a burst of confidence filled you thanks to the encouragement you received from your friends. “Okay, I will!” you loudly announced. “I will confess my feelings to him!”
The others cheered as you all held up your lemon water in a faux toast. In your happiness, none of you noticed the shadows shift in the stairwell and the soft noise of retreating footsteps on the wood.
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You were screwed.
“How am I gonna tell him!?” you mewled aloud a couple of days later in the cafeteria. You dramatically slumped your forehead on the tabletop, mentally kicking yourself for allowing the girls to convince you that confessing your crush would be an easy endeavor. You felt a reassuring pat on your shoulder. Groaning, you lifted your head from the table to shoot puppy eyes at Ochako. “Ochako, help me!” you cried. “How do I confess?”
The brunette gave you a sheepish smile. “I don’t know, Y/N.” She professed, her eyes apologetic. “Proclaiming one's love for another isn’t really my strong suit.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Asui mumbled under her breath before taking a sip of her drink, receiving a glare in response.
“Y/N, sweetie,” Mina cooed from your other side. “I think you’re overthinking it a little. It shouldn’t be but so hard. Just be honest with him!”
“But that is hard!” you said, waving your hands in the air. “I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘hey, Shouto, I think you’re really hot and amazing. Wanna go out with me?’”
“Sure you can,” Momo intoned, trying to reassure you. “Maybe not in those exact words, but when the time comes, you will know what to say.”
“I hope so,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders. “I hope so.”
As time passed, you found that you did not, in fact, know what to say when the time came to confess your feelings to Shouto Todoroki. Whenever you were near him, you became tongue-tied and could barely speak without becoming a stuttering mess. During each interaction, Shouto would give you a long, confused look, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he watched you struggle for words. He wouldn’t comment on it, bless him, but he must’ve thought you to be a total weirdo.
Yet, he still accompanied you on the walk back to the dorm every day after classes ended, and he insisted on continuing your training sessions every weekend after he finished his shift at Endeavor’s Agency. The two of you grew closer, to your absolute delight, and yet you still hadn’t managed to work up the courage to confess your feelings to him.
Until one day . . .
You were sitting in homeroom during free period, chatting with Midoriya about the latest episode of the rebooted All Might: The Mightiest Man TV series.
“I’m telling you, Midoriya,” you said. “It doesn’t matter how much the animation and special effects have improved, the original will always be better than the reboot.” You crossed your arms and lounged back in your chair, waiting for the forest green-haired male to start sputtering his counterargument. “You can’t change my mind. I will die on this hill.”
“Are you seriously sayin—?”
A call of your name from a familiar tenor drew your attention. You turned towards the source to meet a pair of heterochromatic eyes. Shouto was making his way to your desk, coming to a stop right in front of you. You had to tilt your head back in order to maintain eye contact. After a moment, he turned his attention to Midoriya next to you. “Pardon me, Midoriya, but I need to speak to Y/N in private.”
You and Midoriya gaped at the dual-haired male for a good twenty seconds before you slowly rose from your seat. “O-okay.” You turned to face your green-haired companion. You hoped your eyes were conveying your inner panic as you said, “Midoriya, I’ll be back.”
All he could do was nod as he watched you follow behind Shouto, wondering why you looked so panicked to go with the male. Maybe you were constipated.
As Shouto led you toward the classroom door, Ochako and Mina shot you curious glances. When you met their gazes, they gave you a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, respectfully.
“Good luck, girl!” Mina whisper-shouted.
“You got this, Y/N,” Ochako said. You tried to match her comforting smile with your own, but it didn’t reach your eyes.
You followed behind the dual-haired male, silently wondering what was going on. Once you were outside the classroom, he led you down the hallway to a little corner nook bathed in the golden light of the afternoon.
“Shouto, is everything okay?” you asked, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Is something wrong?” At your inquiry, he finally came to a stop in front of a set of windows and turned to face you.
“Yes, everything is fine.” He reassured you. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
You blinked. “Okay,” you said. “Shoot.”
Shouto likewise paused at your usage of unfamiliar slang but didn’t comment on it. “Um,” he started, but drifted off, not finishing the thought. He opened his mouth only to shut it again after a moment or two without making a sound. You furrowed your brows as you continued to watch him struggle for words.
“Um, Sho?” you prodded. He didn’t respond, however, still thinking over his next words. Shouto never hesitates, you thought with a mixture of wonderment and anxiety. Is something bothering him? you thought with growing concern. You felt your heart come to a skittering stop as another horrifying conclusion came to mind; am I the problem?
“I overheard you and the other girls’ conversation on Movie Night,” he confessed at last, interrupting your spiraling train of thought. He bashfully looked away as if he was ashamed.
“Oh, okay?” you responded, absentmindedly going through the events of the night in question. Your heartbeat began to calm down to a normal rate. “What conversation?” You couldn’t think of anything in particular and were about to ask him to elaborate before the realization hit you like a freight train.
“I like him a little.”
“Okay, I will! I will confess my feelings to him!”
“Yeah, girl, you got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”
Oooohhhhh.
Fuck.
Maybe he didn’t hear that particular part of the conversation! You tried to reassure yourself as you waited for Shouto to answer your question. Your heart rate picked back up as panic began to settle in. We were there for several hours. There is so much he could’ve—
“You have an admiration going on.” You hate to admit you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before his formal wording translated into modern speech. You have a crush.
FUCK!
“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” you rushed out, trying to save face and whatever friendship you had with Shouto. You felt your cheeks burn. “Please, just forget you ever heard that!”
Shouto snapped his head to you as your words registered in his brain. “Why would I do that?” he asked after a moment. “We live in the same building with shared living space, barely anything is not overheard by another.”
Oh God, how much did he overhear?
“Besides,” he continued. “At our age, it is completely natural for one to harbor feelings for another.”
You blinked at him as his words registered, your cheeks now tingling due to the burn. Gosh, he sounds like a grandpa giving the birds and the bees talk.
“It—it’s j-just,” you stammered. “I-I-I—” You let out a harsh breath in frustration when your words continued to fail you. Shouto raised a brow before his eyes narrowed. Your heart sank when you saw that.
Oh great, he’s annoyed!
“Are you all right?” he asked before moving so he was right in front of you. You squeaked at the sudden warmth of his body heat as he placed a hand on your forehead. “Do you feel ill? You feel warm, and your face looks to be flushed with some perspiration gathering on your forehead.” His eyes frantically looked you up and down as he examined you for any further signs of sickness. “I should get you to Recovery Girl.”
“N-no!” you exclaimed when he went to sweep you off your feet. “Sh-Shouto, I—I’m fine, really. I’m n-not s-sick.”
“Oh?” Shouto blinked in confusion and, adorably, subtly tilted his head to the side. “Then why are you so febrile? And you are stuttering?”
“It’s not because I am sick. I’m just em-embarrassed.” You whispered the last part, and you couldn’t help but look away from Shouto in shame.
“Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed, Y/N?” You shut your mouth, refusing to speak. Shouto sensed your hesitation. The light slowly left his heterochromatic eyes and he bashfully looked away from you. “Is . . . is it because you don’t want to be seen with me?” he asked. “For fear that your crush will see us together and not return your affection?”
You let out a gasp in surprise. “What? No!” You are quick to reassure him—your actual crush—of your intentions. “That’s not it at all!”
Shouto met your gaze again. His eyes lit up with what looked like . . . anticipation? Hope? You weren’t sure, but your heart began to race in trepidation. “Then what is it?”
“I like you,” you blurted out. You shut your eyes and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide from your drowning embarrassment. “Like, not even a little bit, but, like, really, really like you.” You whispered from behind your hands.
There was no immediate response from the dual-haired male. You didn’t dare to remove your hands from your face to check if he was still standing in front of you.
He probably didn’t hear me. You internally slapped yourself upside the head.
Before you could react, Shouto was carefully removing your hands from your face. His touch was gentle, like he was afraid you would crack and break under his fingertips. “Why are you hiding from me?” he whispered. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared wide-eyed at him.
“I—I.” Despite your efforts, words weren’t able to come out of your mouth.
“You should never feel like you need to hide,” he continued. He let out an airy tsk before he reached his hand up and gently tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. You felt your face heat up even more at the action. “Especially from me.”
What.
“W-what?” you voiced aloud. You blinked a couple times, trying to bring your brain back from the brink of short-circuiting.
Shouto chuckled lowly, moving impossibly closer into your space. “I think you need to get your hearing checked out, love.”
You blinked some more. “What?”
“Have I broken you?” he asked, the corner of his perfect lips turning up at the thought. “First you forget your words, and now you have lost your hearing. . .” he trailed off as he continued to stare intently into your eyes.
What is he playing at. . .? you wondered as you blankly stared at him.
The two of you stood there and took each other in for quite a while. In reality, it mustn’t have been for very long—at most a minute and a half—but to you, it felt like hours. You were so close you could see the light reflecting in his heterochromatic eyes and the small streaks of gray in the turquoise-colored one.
“I . . . like you, too,” Shouto suddenly confessed, violently snapping you out of the daze his proximity causes. “I have harbored feelings for you for some time now.”
WHAT!?
“You . . . do?” you asked, skeptical. You were hesitant to believe his words in fear that this whole thing was some sick prank. But—
No. Shouto isn’t that type of person, you thought. He barely understands humor as it is, so he must be telling the truth.
“I do,” he confirmed.
“Oh, um.” You fumbled again for words, embarrassment flooding your entire system once more. You licked your dry lips, missing the way Shouto’s eyes locked onto the movement. “Cool.”
Shouto blinked at you, one of his perfect eyebrows raising. “Cool?” he repeated with a sly smile overcoming his lips.
“Mhm.” You dumbly nodded. “Cool.” You paused before muttering a small, “Ditto.”
He chuckled again, subtly moving the tiniest bit closer to you. He was just about crowding you into the corner at this point. “Ditto, huh?” He mumbled under his breath with a widening smirk playing at his lips. “I think I have broken you, dear.”
You grinned. “Perhaps.” Shouto chuckled again before falling silent. The two of you stared at the other, lost in each other’s gazes.
“Can I kiss you?” He spoke on an exhale, his deep voice somehow even deeper. Before you could internally flip the fuck out and fully comprehend what was happening, you were already nodding. That was all the confirmation Shouto needed before he brought your lips in for a sensual kiss. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as you relaxed into him.
You smiled into the kiss. Thank you, chopsticks.
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The next day, you and Shouto walked into the classroom holding hands. Everyone collectively stopped what they were doing to openly gape at the two of you as Shouto, always the gentleman, escorted you to your seat. The shocked silence lasted all but three seconds before Mina and Tooru let out ear-piercing shrieks and practically tackled you.
“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Mina was shouting meanwhile Tooru was holding onto you so tight to the point that she was nearly crushing you into her invisible body.
“AHHHH, I knew this was gonna happen!” she exclaimed before somehow pulling you in closer.
“Can’t . . . breathe.” You wheezed out before your boyfriend pulled you away from the two fangirls and protectively held you to his chest.
“I would be grateful if you didn’t crush my girlfriend to death, Tooru.” He intoned in his naturally dry tenor. His statement only made them freak out even more.
“Ah! Look at the two love birds!” Ochako swooned.
“Fuckin’ disgustin’,” grumbled a deep voice from somewhere in the back of the room.
Before you could turn to shoot Bakugou a death glare, Shouto was already clapping back. “What, are you jealous, Bakugou?”
The desks which had surrounded the blond a moment prior were blown to shiverines.
“I’LL END YOU!”
Fin.
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→ extras: snapshot 1, snapshot 2, fic tag
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i-cant-sing · 1 month ago
Text
TT AU PART 13
Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Part 9 is here. Part 10 is here. Part 11 is here. Part 12 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!
"I cant do this."
He rolls his eyes. "Not with that attitude." He runs a hand through his hair before nodding at you to follow him. You both enter the dance studio that his grandfather built for his wife inside the house because he loved her and well, he had the money.
"Silas, no one can learn ballet in a month." You state again and he lets out an exhale while Cadbury is bringing in about a dozen of ballet flats. "Even if your grandmother were to try and teach me, I still wont be good enough to perform in front of the queen-"
"Your voice is shrill and piercing and thoroughly unpleasant."
You blink at him before scowling. "A simple "shut up" would suffice, you know."
Silas glances at you. "What is this really about? Are you pretending to have low self esteem so I could offer you sympathy?"
"Excuse me?" Your tone sharpened. "Not that I like to remind anyone of the favours I do, but maybe you have forgotten that I literally saved your social image and status from being tarnished yesterday? Or did you forget about our Nikkah?"
Silas suddenly leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. You backed away, and he tilted his head slightly. "And I'm eternally grateful for that, missus, but the Nikkah saved your image too. Must I remind you that I converted to Islam too?"
"Because it benefitted you, not me." You spat out, only to inhale sharply as he gripped your chin firmly.
"As is the stipend I've been paying you, yet you fail to write a single article on the murders."
He pouted, feigning hurt. "Besides, are you saying I am not a real Muslim? That I have malicious intentions? Doesnt that go against your teachings- what is it? Not to judge someone?"
"I dont need to judge when its all so apparent-"
"Ah, good to see the love birds again!" Sarah's voice made you two pull away from each other. She clasped her hands as she made her way towards you two.
"Nana." Silas greeted her and kissed her cheeks. "Thank God you're here. My sweetheart is so concerned over this performance, even though I've assured her many times that she will be learning from the best. There's just no way she would mess this up!"
Sarah laughed heartily. "Stop buttering me up! And she is right to be concerned. Anyone would be nervous to perform in front of an audience, especially the queen!"
Silas wrapped one arm each around your and Sarah's shoulders, pulling you two close to him. "I only see a queen and a princess here. There's no need to be nervous. Just have fun!"
Just have fun? What kind of bullshit motivation is that-
Sarah smiled and nodded. "He's right, Y/n. As long as you're having fun, you're going to be just fine darling!"
-
Colin never thought he'd have to resort to day drinking.
And yet here he is, adding whatever he could grab his hands on and fill the flask with and mixing it in his coffee.
I need this. He reasoned with himself. Its not that much, just small doses to keep me sane when Y/n comes.
And then you do, in your Sherlock Holmes disguise, cheerfully greeting him before going to Will's office to work on the murder story.
He takes another sip of his coffee as he tries to process... well, everything.
Why was I attracted to you? Why am I still attracted to you even though I acted as a witness to your wedding with that rich bastard-
Another sip. He scowled before adding some more liquour, then he sipped it. Better.
Whats the best way to get over a crush? Crush? Is that what you were? An infatuation, a passing by fancy? So, how do I get over-
Wait. He set his mug down. You know that he and the boys all know that your marriage to Silas is a sham. You never really hid the fact but now they had all witnessed that it was just a rushed, possibly contractual marriage that Silas wants to save his ass.
So the marriage is bound to end. He doesnt have to get over you. No, not really. If anything, I should be spending more time with you. Yes. Yes! This way, when you and Silas end things, Colin will be right there to comfort you and support you! He needs to be the first man there after you dump Silas, lest anyone else gets ideas and wants to marry you as well.
Colin got up and managed to make his way to his boss's office without bumping into anyone. He's going to ask to work on the murder story and then you two will spend time-
"No. Keep working on the asylum story. We have enough people on the murder case." His boss dismissed him.
Colin slumped in his desk as he looked at the coffee mug. Eh, what the hell? He took another sip and another solution popped in his head.
If he cant help you with the murder story, then perhaps you can help him with the asylum story!
-
Silas handed you the invite.
"How did you get it so fast?" You asked, examining the small paper with elegant writing. It was the invite to the Gentleman's club, the one Henry owns. You'd asked Silas to get you an invite to what was an exclusive, members only club (when you tried entering the club, the men at the front laughed you out.)
Silas looked at you unamused, with his arms crossed over his chest. "Must I remind you who I am?"
A pompous ass?
"Of course not, my duke." You said mockingly, before raising a brow at him. "I suppose it would make sense for you to get easy access to shady places like this. You might be their popular customer."
"Oh darling, I'm popular everywhere." Silas shot back before dismissing you with his hand. "You can go now."
"What? You arent going to ask me why I'm going there?" You asked him. "Maybe you dont care that I am going there, but arent you worried about Mrs Fitzgerald or Duchess Y/n being in a place like that?"
Silas shrugged nonchalantly. "No." He leaned back in his chair. "I trust you not to screw up or entangle yourself in scandals. But even if you do end up in trouble, I will stand by you."
"You will?" You couldn’t hide the disbelief in your tone.
He nodded. "Of course. Look, I know we are in this... unconventional relationship and it appears that I couldnt care less about your existence, but you still carry my surname next to yours. And I wont allow anyone to disrespect what or who is associated with me. So, rest assured-" He leans forward, resting his arms on the mahogany desk and clasped his hands. "you have my support in all your endeavours, Mrs Silas."
A small smile formed on your lips. Maybe he's not so bad.
"Thank you, Silas- oh, can you drop me off there?" You knew he was going to leave in the carriage soon.
"No, I dont want my beautiful, pure bred stallions to go through those dirty streets. You can walk."
Jerk.
You stomped out of his study, not noticing the butler going in after you with the dessert you'd made for yourself last night.
"And what's this?" Silas asked him as he took a bite of the decadent, gooey chocolatey dessert.
"Uh, the duchess called it "brown-ies", but I've never heard of it before." Cadburry watched Silas ate it and sighed dreamily. "Do you like it, sir?"
"No." Silas pushed the empty plate towards him. "But I'd rather not have grandmother eat her cooking and say something. Bring me the leftovers."
"Y/n- oh, are you going somewhere?" Sarah asked just as you were about to leave.
"Yes, um- I'm going to meet my friends." Its not like you could tell her that you worked in the paper disguised as a man.
"Male friends?" She asked.
"Yes. My old flatmates." You watched her smile falter. "What?"
"Nothing, dearie. Enjoy your time with them! I hope you'll join us for dinner." You nodded and left while Sarah looked for her grandson.
"Where's Silas? I must speak to him this instant." She asked the maid, who informed her that the duke had went to play tennis just moments ago.
"Tennis?"
The maid nodded. "Yes. With his uncles."
Sarah was a little surprised to hear that. Not the tennis part, no. Silas is extremely well at any sport he plays, but she knows her sons arent ones who are good at athletics, let alone at a sport as strenuous as tennis.
An idea popped in her head.
-
You stood outside the Gentleman's club, watching people go in. Smoothing your hands over your black velvet dress, you made your way to the door.
After handing them your invitation, they let you inside and you saw a waiter handing everyone masquerade masks from a silver tray. Perhaps it was the theme for the club tonight, or maybe the club just gave masks to everyone to conceal their identities.
You were given a black and gold mask that covered the upper half of your face. As you adjusted the mask over your face, you heard a familiar voice.
"I need to see her. Now." You looked over your shoulder and saw Benjamin harshly whisper to one of the waiters. "She told me to come and I'm late as it is. Dont make her wait any longer!" You turned your head away as the waiter lead Benjamin into the club, all while Benjamin yanked a mask off the tray and pulled it over his head.
What is Benny doing here?
You quickly followed him inside, lest you lost sight of him, which you did as soon as you stepped into the main hall and were immediately stunned to your place at the sight.
Loud jazz music played by a band live, smell of smoke and alcohol filled the air and people. There were so many people, despite the club being "exclusive". And as your eyes scanned them, trying to spot familiar faces, your heart dropped at the realisation of what they were doing.
This was... an adult club. That kind of adult club, the one where there are absolutely no limitations on who is doing what with whom, all drunk on pleasure and drugs of course, no inhibitions. You spotted men with men, women with men, and more than one person pleasing another man.
Thats why this is an exclusive club, why they gave everyone masks. Because if word got out that a someone was here doing.... something that was generally a taboo and even punishable by both God and the law, well it would put them in huge trouble. People came here to let loose, to give in to their darkest desires.
What the hell is Benny doing here?
Averting your eyes, you looked for Benjamin and spotted him from afar, going into a room.
Oh God, please dont let it be a- please dont let sweet Benny be a depraved creep.
You waited for him to come out and after about 20 minutes, the door finally opened.
Benny walked out first, adjusting his mask again and then leaving. You're about to follow him, perhaps even confront him for being here when someone else walks out of the room as well.
A tall woman wearing a bright red, backless dress and a golden mask concealing her identity. But what really stood out were two things- first, her fiery red-orange hair that was styled into voluminous Hollywood waves. And second was her figure, her athletic built, or more specifically her broad shoulders and muscled arms.
Everything about this woman screamed important. And if it werent for her looks that demanded attention, then it was certainly her aura. People parted the way when she walked past them, all looking at her as if she was their saviour, an angel or divinity among men, which is ironic considering where you were.
You jumped as you felt an arm snake around your waist.
"What the hell?!" You looked at the culprit, who turned out to be a blonde woman drunk off her head.
"Oh dont be like that! Come on, love, let me show you a good time-" She tried to touch you again but you backed away before she could.
"No, thank you." You dismissed her, going back to looking at the red head.
"Prude." The blonde muttered before following your gaze. "Oh so thats what you're into? Well, put me in a red wig and we can play like that!"
"No, thanks." You huffed, eyes still trained on the woman in red.
The blonde scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, its not like you'd be able to sleep with the club owner."
"She's the club owner? I thought Mr Blackwood owned this place."
"He does, but Lady Scarlett there runs this place, from entertainment to management. She does it all!"
Lady Scarlett? Fitting name.
Pushing away the blonde one more time, you looked for Lady Scarlett, except you lost sight of her now. You scanned the entire ballroom, but she was nowhere in sight.
"Shit." You mumbled, turning around only to stumble back as you came face-to-face with her, or well... face-to-chest. She towered over you.
Her bright red lips smiled knowingly at you. "Looking for me?" She asked in a sultry voice, stalking towards you until you were backed up against the wall.
"N-no-" You yelped as she suddenly grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head.
You stared at her wide eyed as she leaned down, hovering inches away from your face and thats when it hit you-
Lady Scarlett is a man.
Of course! The muscled arms, the manly built, and now on close inspection, you saw the clean shave under the makeup too.
"Y-you're a man." You stated in disbelief, hoping to catch her or him, off guard. What even is he? A drag queen? A trans? You dont know if they existed in victorian era.
Scarlett tilted her head. "So? Are you the only one who is allowed to cross dress as the other gender?"
What? No, no way she knows-
She leaned in closer, whispering in your ear. "Did I catch you off guard, Mr Holmes?"
She knows!
"How- how did you-"
She smirked. "I know everyone that is associated with Mr Blackwood." She brought a hand up to your face, and you noticed a golden ring on her ring finger. She cupped your face. "And I know for a fact Henry wouldnt like his latest infatuation snooping around in a place like this. So..." She leaned into you again, staring into your eyes. "Leave."
You didnt have to be told twice. Lady Scarlett, that cross dresser creeped you out, even more so when she already knew you.
Stumbling out of the club, you removed your mask, dropping it to the ground. The fresh night air filled your lungs and cleared out the smokey air from the club. It was quiet outside, considering it was way past midnight and everyone was home now.
And I have to walk all the way home. You huffed, rubbing your arms. Because my husband would rather I get hypothermia than let his precious ponies walk through these streets.
You turn around, walking away from the club to see if there was a carriage available at this time, when you hear a shrill scream from the alleyway you're walking past.
And there it is- a woman lying in a puddle of her own blood as huge, dark figure slashed her face over and over again. The moonlight hit the woman's face- a blonde woman-
-the blonde from the club.
Frozen in your place, the figure stood up and looked at you, not at all looking startled at being caught mutiliating someone. It was definitely a man, huge stature, and he stared at you, the dark night concealing his identity. He slowly bent down to pick something up, a top hat, dusting it off before placing it on his head.
And then he tipped his hat at you.
What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck-
It wasnt until he took a step towards you that you finally broke out of your trance and ran. You ran and ran, not even risking a look back, not realising where you were running off to until you burst through their door, out of breath and paler than white paint.
"Y/n?" Colin rushed towards you, the Shepherd and Liam rushing into the living room as Colin helped you inside. "What happened? What's wrong?" He feared, as did all the boys, that Silas had done something to you.
"I- I- I-" You shake your head, the image of the dark figure running through your mind, the hat, the long cloak, the knife- it finally pieced together.
"I think I saw Jack the Ripper."
-
You sat at the police station with Colin. After explaining everything, he'd convinced you to report the murder.
The detective lead you inside the interrogation room, motioning for you to sit down as you began giving your statement.
"And who did you think the murderer was?"
"Jack the Ripper." Your answer made him roll his eyes. "And who might that be, miss?"
"I dont know." The investigator shook his head exasperated. "Of course you dont." He muttered, then sighed.
"So, what were you doing at this club?"
"Me?" You didnt pause for long. "I was invited there. My- my husband wanted me to attend on his behalf."
"Your husband-" he paused, reading your surname on the paper. "Fitzgerald? Wait, you're Mrs Silas Fitzgerald?" You nodded, making him sigh. "Guess it makes sense for you to be there..."
Whats that supposed to mean?
"Did you see anyone familiar there?"
"No." You answered curtly, before adding another detail. "Everyone was wearing masks. Couldnt recognise anyone even if I wanted to."
What? I'm not gonna rat out Benjamin and make him the prime suspect without gathering all the facts before.
It's definitely not because I have a soft spot for him since he reminds me of Qasim so much. Nope.
The door suddenly swung open and in walked what you assumed was the detectives superior since the man got up.
"Is this the witness for club murder?" The higher up asked him.
"Yes sir, she was just giving her statement-"
"No need. Dismiss the witness and the case. It's been handled." He told the detective who only nodded.
"Handled by who? You can't just dismiss the case!" You exclaimed getting up. But before he could reply, someone walked in from behind him.
"You can go now, Smith. I'll see Miss Y/n gets home safely." Henry patted the higher ups shoulder who left with the detective.
"What are you doing, Henry?" You crossed your arms.
"I could ask you the same." He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as well.
"I'm reporting a murder that happened outside your club! I saw him-"
"Saw who? Jack the Ripper?" He scoffed. "You think you saw him, but all you really saw was a dark shadow."
You shake your head. "I did see him-!"
"And how do you know that he's Jack the Ripper?" He pushed himself off the door frame, walking closer to you. "How do you know that he's the Ripper when no one knows who the man is?!"
You pursed your lips. You could argue that the victim profile and post mortem show a matching pattern but you doubt Henry is going to listen to reason.
"Even so, you should still let me give my statement. Why are you adamant on me not giving one? A woman was murdered for God's sake!" You try to walk past him, but he grabs your arm and yanks you back, making your chest collide with his.
"She was my employee. She worked for the club. And you-" his face hardened. "-you are insulting her death by making it a public frenzy. By stating that some sick nobody, someone who was nicknamed by the papers just to strike fear in people's hearts, killed her. I will not let you use her death so that your paper could make a quick buck! Jack the Ripper is a nobody!"
-
"Why do you think Blackwood's trying to cover up the murder?" Colin asked you as you two made your way towards your next destination.
"I dont know." You huffed. "Maybe he knows who the murderer is? Maybe he's protecting his business? Surely, if people were to hear that a serial killer made an appearance near his club, he'd lose clients."
"Or maybe he's the killer." You stopped and looked at him. Colin looked at you knowingly. "It would make sense for him to be Jack the Ripper, or at least the man who murdered that woman. It is very suspicious of him to probably bribing the coppers to drop the case."
You shake your head. "Its too obvious."
He rolled his eyes. "What? So Henry cant be the murderer because its “too obvious?” People make mistakes-"
"Not Henry." You cut him off. "He's too smart, calculating. There's got to be another reason for him to be sweeping this all under the carpet."
Colin shakes his head in disbelief, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looked ahead. "We're here."
You followed his gaze and saw the building. The sign on the gate read-
"Aveline's Asylum"
"Really? Right now?" You asked Colin, who just smiled cheekily.
"It'll take your mind off things. Just take a break and help me on this assignment and we can go back to speculating what Blackwood's motives are." He raised his brows. "Plus, I think you'll enjoy this one."
You followed him inside the asylum, walking through the lush green gardens and seeing the pristine white building ahead, you wondered how this would help Colin's "exposing horrendous hospital environments and patient care" article when all of this reall just screamed "rehab for the rich".
"Shouldnt we go to an asylum that is in much worse conditions than this? Possibly next to a workhouse?" You asked him, but Colin just smiled. "Why did you choose this place, Colin?”
"You'll see." He says before whispering to you. "Remember your script. And... action!”
While pretending to be insane (which was easy because all you had to say was that you don’t think being a mom or stay-at-home wife is your life’s purpose), you saw a familiar figure there. And he saw you too.
“Y/n? Colin?” Benjamin looked surprised. “What are you two doing here?”
“Working on an article.” Colin replied, glancing at the way you’d gotten quiet, staring at Benjamin.
“Oh. Right, the horrible healthcare environment. But why this place? Its practically one of the finest asylums, housing mostly the wealthy of London.”
Colin nodded. “I know! But I have a hunch about this place-”
“What are you doing here?” You cut him off.
“Me? Oh, I’m here to give haircuts.” Ben chuckled nervously. “Its not a noble cause, but the wealthy unwell patients do pay a lot.”
“Mmhm, where’s your hair kit?” You remember distinctly that Ben was very particular about using his own scissors, so he often carried his own.
Ben looked caught off-guard by your question, but he quickly recovered. “The nurses provided me with their own. Cant carry scissors around an asylum now, can I?”
How convenient.
Colin continued to make small talk with Ben, while you studied him. Even if you didn’t tell anyone that you saw Ben at the club the night of the murder, doesn’t mean that you didn’t suspect him. For all you know, appearances can be deceiving and this sweet man may just be the infamous Jack the Ripper.
Blonde haired, the kindest eyes, the sweetest smile, a golden retriever in human form- could Benjamin really have killed all those women so brutally? Then again, Ted Bundy was also known for his good looks and superficial charm.
Am I really comparing Benny to Ted Bundy? God, I hope I’m wrong.
“I should go now. See you at home?” Ben asked you, hopeful.
“Maybe.” You shrugged, Ben’s smile faltering at your answer. He then raised his hand to shake Colin’s and thats when you noticed a distinctly familiar golden ring on his hand.
The same one you’d seen on Lady Scarlett’s hand.
And just like that, everything fell into place.
-
By the time you’d reached home, you’d pieced out the story. Ben being at the exclusive club and being discrete about it, seen in a room with Lady Scarlett, both wearing the same rings-
He’s in a relationship with her. Or him.
Thats why Ben was at that club! Homosexuality or anything else that isn’t heterosexuality was simply not accepted in Victorian England, and was possibly punishable by law! Just look at Oscar Wilde! Ben is dating Scarlett, keeping it discrete, he never committed any murders because he’s not Jack the Ripper. He’s just not straight!
Oh, I’m so glad you’re not the Ripper, Benny. I knew you weren’t capable of committing such heinous crimes.
As for why he was at the asylum, maybe he’s telling the truth. He did come to give the rich patients a haircut because he needs the money to maintain Scarlett’s lifestyle or maybe be rich enough to whisk her/him away from the club.
Benny is such a gentleman.
Now that Benny is no longer a suspect, that leaves Henry to be the main suspect. Maybe he’s not the one killed the woman, maybe he hired someone? Or maybe Henry’s not the killer either, its just too- obvious.
“Why do you think Henry stopped me from reporting the murder?” You asked Silas as you whisked the eggs before adding them to the pan. Silas had entered the kitchen the moment he heard you were cooking, though he did shoot you a weird look for making scrambled eggs at 11 pm. With you running around London all day, you hadn’t found time to eat until now, and you were just looking for a quick meal really.
“He probably doesn’t want you scaring off his customers. If word gets out that a murderer, or as you claim- “The Ripper” was seen near the club, then people wont be frequenting the place. Or perhaps he’s protecting the murderer?” Silas suggests, swallowing as the smell of butter wafts through the kitchen.
You add cubes of cold butter in, then look at him. “What? You don’t believe that I saw the Ripper?”
“I believe that if you really saw the Ripper, then you wouldn’t still be alive. He had the time and the opportunity to get rid of you.Why else would the notorious killer would let a witness get away?” Silas crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the kitchen counter near the stove.
“Maybe because he targets prostitutes? All of his previous victims match that profile.”
“Like he could tell a difference-”
“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?” You dished out the eggs. “No, you’re saying that. I’m saying that the man you saw kill that woman was just an amateur who was caught offguard by you, otherwise he would’ve attacked you too.” Silas states before grabbing the plate of buttery scrambled eggs on toast from your hands.
“Hey! Thats mine-” “My kitchen, my eggs.” He smirked before walking off. “You can make yourself more, I need to feed my dogs first.”
You glared at him until he left the kitchen, not knowing whether he really was going to feed it to the dogs or it was just a lie disguised as an insult so that he could eat it himself.
It was the latter. Always.
-
The next day, after you’d taken another ballet lesson from Sarah, you were about to go out to investigate the club again but Sarah had other plans for you.
“Y/n, I need you to stay at home today.”
“Oh, is everything alright?” You ask. She never made you stay home before. “Are we having company?”
“No. I think that you should play some sports to keep yourself fit. As a ballerina, it is important to keep both the mind and the body sound, and what better way to achieve that than by playing in the sun!” She lead you outside towards the tennis court, hidden by the huge bushes for privacy from outsiders.
“Tennis?” You ask her, and she confirms it. “Yes. Do you know how to play?”
Do I know how to- if I wasn’t so obsessed with history and sciences (and my mom scared that me wearing a skirt would attract predators), I had plans on playing professionally. Qasim and I used to play tennis at the club he’d won a membership in. We were both very competitive but he was just always a little better than me. He always knew my moves, he read me like an open book.
I was second only to Qasim though. Everyone else? They ate dust.
“Yes, I do.” You smiled at her. “Who am I playing with?”
“Me.” Silas spoke from behind you, dressed in all-white tennis wear. He looked at Sarah unamused. “Nana, I thought you said you had a worthy opponent for me.”
You shot him a glare, but Sarah came to your defense. “Now, now. You don’t know how capable your wife is. And I’m willing to bet that she’d make you run out of breath, Silas.”
You smiled cheekily as Silas scoffed. “We’ll see.” Sarah places a hand on your back. “Why don’t you go get changed, dear? I had the maids prepare an outfit for you.” When you left, Sarah looked at Silas. “Now Silas, I know you play exceptionally well but you must remember that this match is more of a way to spend time with your wife. Not a way to show off. So, be a gentleman, hm?”
You huffed as you returned to the tennis court. What the hell is this? Silas gets to wear a shirt and pants and I have to wear a full length dress with a corset and a hat?!
Mom would probably have let me gone pro if this was the official tennis wear for women.
Sarah sat on the side lines and watched you two play. Silas let you serve first and after a couple of back-and-forth, you won the first point. And then the next. And the next.
“Ah, you’re doing fantastic, Y/n!” Sarah cheered before standing up when the butler informed her that a guest has come to see her. “I’ll be back! You two keep playing!”
As Sarah left, you couldn’t help but tease Silas. What? He still makes you sleep on the floor! “So, how does it feel to lose to a girl?”
“I wouldn’t know.” And with that, Silas threw the ball in the air and served.
The ball shot past your head, just centimetres away from hitting you.
“What the hell? I wasn’t ready-”
“Lame excuses dont work on me.” He pulled out another ball and bounced it. “Are you ready now, duchess?”
You scowled at him before getting in position. “I’m ready, jerk.”
You lost two of the three matches. The first match you almost won was because Sarah was there and Silas was going easy on you, but when Sarah left, Silas regained all those points by serving topspin and slice serves. By the second match, you were finally able to return his fast serves, but now Silas used his speed and your lack of because of your heavy dress and made you run around all over the court trying to return his fast shots. By the third match, you were all out of breath but not out of determination. So, Silas decided that now would be the time to use your body as target practise and he hit the ball over your legs and arms, only stopping when one shot hit you in the head and made you fall on the ground.
“Are you okay?” He asked, barely suppressing the glee in his voice. He held out a hand to help you up, but you swatted it away and got up on your own.
“Finish the game.” You growled and he raised his hands in surrender before returning to his side of the court. For the rest of the third match, he missed all the shots you served and let you win. And he did it so openly, not even being courteous enough to hide his intentions.
Sarah watched you return inside the house, looking all sweaty and angry as you stomped unto your room. Silas trailed in behind, a satisfied grin on his face and Sarah shook her head at him disappointedly. “What did you do, Silas?”
“Nothing. I even let her win the last round, but she’s still angry.” Sarah looked at him admonishingly, making him sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll go talk to her. The things I do for you, Nana.”
“The things you do for love, Silas.” She corrected him.
Sure. Silas rolled his eyes mentally. I “love” Y/n.
Silas entered the bedroom and saw you had showered and changed into new clothes. “Going somewhere? Perhaps to get some handkerchiefs to wipe all the sweat and tears?” He watched you glare at him through the mirror and he chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing. But seriously, where are you going? I could give you a ride.”
“I’m going to an asylum with Colin.” You huff, packing some things in your small purse. Silas nodded. “Good idea to get yourself finally checked-” He dodged the hairbrush you threw at his head, chuckling. “Now now, duchess. It isn’t exactly speaking much for your mental health for you to be chucking things at your dear husband.”
Ignoring his antics, you slipped on your shoes, walking out of the room. He trailed behind you. “Dont be mad. I’m just playing around. Come on, I’ll drop you off at Saint Peters asylum. Its on my way to work.”
“I’m not going to Saint Peters. I’m going to Aveline’s.” You stated, ready to walk off but he grabbed your arm.
“What?” You looked at his shocked face. “What?” You repeated his question. Why did he suddenly look so pale.
“Where are you going?” He asked, his grip tightening when you tried to move. “Which asylum?”
“Aveline’s.” You frowned, grabbing his hand and removing it from your arm. Silas expression paled further.
“Why?”
You shrugged. “Colin wants to do an article on horrible asylum conditions and treatment of patients-”
“Dont.” Silas ordered more than he suggested. “That place- don’t go there.”
“And why not?” You looked at him skeptically. “Colin wants to do a piece on the place-”
“Pick another asylum. I can get you access to any other.” Silas ignored your question, averting his eyes. “You will not go there, and you will not write a piece on that asylum.”
You grabbed his arm to make him look at you. “What are you hiding, Silas?”
Silas stared at you before yanking his arm out of your grasp. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Just- do as I say.” He raised finger, wagging it at your warningly. “I’m telling you- you will not go there again, Y/n. And if I find out that you or Colin or anyone else tried to write about that place, I will shut down that paper and make sure none of them find a job ever.”
You watched Silas leave you there standing dumbfounded.
Did he really just threaten me?
This bitch.
-
Silas watched you leave from the window. He knows you wont listen to him, knows that its inevitable to try to stop you from going to Aveline, so he already sent someone to bribe the staff to not let you on the asylum premises. He’s not worried about who you’re meeting or where you’re going, just as long as its not Aveline.
No. He closed his eyes, painful memories flashing through his mind. You cant know. You cant know.
He sat down on his chair, trying to think of ways to divert your attention from the asylum. You’re as stubborn as a mule, you wont listen to him. So he has to create distractions for you.
Jack the Ripper!
Of course, the murder case!
“Cadburry!” He called his butler. “Arrange me an invite for the Gentleman’s club. Now.”
You were sitting in the boys apartment, Benjamin playing with your hair out of habit, braiding it, unbraiding it, then braiding it again. Colin sat confused. “Why cant we go to the asylum today?”
“I’m not in the mood to see depressing white halls today. Besides, I have an errand to run.” You lean your head further back for Benny.
“And what that might be?” Colin was intrigued.
“Girly errand. You wont understand.” You dismiss him. “But we’ll go to Aveline’s again, thats for sure.” You felt Benny tug your hair at that statement.
“Ow! Benny!” You glare at him. Ben shakes out of his daze, apologising profusely. “Sorry, sorry! I was just lost in my thoughts.”
A coy smile formed on your lips. Lost in thought? Oh, I know exactly what kind of thoughts you’re having, Benny.
Colin stood up with a sigh. “Alright then. I’ll go to office and start writing down a draft.” You nodded as he left you alone with Ben.
Once you heard the door click, you immediately turned around. “Hey, Benny.”
He gave you a gentle smile. “Hey, Y/n.”
“So…” you wiggled your brows at him. “What’s going on with you?”
“Hmm… nothing much really. I got a new customer who wanted a toupee. Apparently word got around that I’m a very skilled barber, no matter how much hair one has or lack of, I can make it work!”
“Yes, thats lovely Benny, but-” you cleared your throat. “I meant, whats going on with you, personally. You look happier, livelier these days.”
He shrugged, offering you another sweet smile. “I guess that’s just the effect you have on people around you.”
Ugh! Stop being so charming, Benny!
“Thanks, Benny. But… I don’t know, I feel like there’s something different about you.” You tried another approach. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I wont ever judge you or anything.”
Though he was smiling, you saw something flicker in his eyes. Doubt? Fear?
“What do you mean, Y/n?” He asked, his voice stable as usual.
Your eyes studied him.
“Did you meet someone new?”
There it is! That flicker in his eyes. His face didn’t let anything away but his eyes, you saw it.
“Yes.” Finally, we’re getting somewhere. “I met you.”
Stupid Benny. Annoying Benny.
Sighing, you realise that maybe he’s just not ready to come out yet. And that I shouldn’t take it personally because I am close with him and he could tell me anything, just like Qasim would. It would be unfair to force Ben to tell you about Lady Scarlett before he’s ready.
“Thanks, Benny.” You said, hiding your disappointment. “I have to go now. Have to go… run that errand.”
“Oh, need me to come?” He got up with you. You shake your head. “No, I’ll manage on my own.”
Why would I tell you when you wont tell me about your love?
-
You were now standing outside the club again. You had initially returned to the back alley to investigate the crime scene again but it had been scrubbed clean and Henry had somehow managed to get a permit to start construction to expand the club further.
He was erasing the crime scene. Henry was trying to hide something.
Speak of the devil, you saw Henry exit the club and get in his carriage. Once you were sure he’d left, you made your way towards the club entrance, still having the invite from last time, only for the guards to stop you.
“I’m sorry but Mr Blackwood has forbidden you from entering the club, Miss Y/n.” One guard said, holding a hand up to halt you.
“Mrs Fitzgerald.” You corrected him, hoping to use the name to get by. “I am the duchess of Westminster!”
“Forgives us, Miss Y/n, but Mr Blackwood specifically instructed us to not let you in and he also instructed us not to address you by anything but Miss Y/n or- um…” The other guard trailed off, making you narrow your eyes at him.
“Or?” You sneered at him to continue.
“Or… future-Mrs Blackwood.” He mumbled but you heard him loud and clear.
I’m going to kill him.
“Listen here and listen clear!” Your voice took a threatening tone, though you’re sure it would look comical to an outsider seeing a woman of your stature trying to intimidate men who were towering over you with their buff physiques.
“I am going to only be addressed as MRS FITZGERALD and you will let me in this club right now or I will have my husband, the duke of Westminster, shut this place down before your twat boss would dare to associate his name with me again!” You yelled with your nostrils flared. “Now, you will march in and inform Lady Scarlett that I’m here to see her. And if she says no, tell her I know about the rings!”
The guards shared a look, probably trying to communicate telepathically whether to let you in or not.
Fortunately for you, your huffing and puffing seemed to work and one of them walked in before returning moments later.
“Please wait for a short while Lady Scarlett entertains some guests.”
After about 20 long minutes, during which you were sure Henry would turn up and have you carried off the premises, the guards finally lead you inside.
“This way, future Mrs Blackwood.” You shot him a glare but didn’t say anything since you were inside the club anyways. They lead you up the stairs towards the room that you had seen Ben go into the last time you were here.
The door opened and you saw a large bed on one side, silk sheets and plush cushions adorning it, and a huge vanity in the other corner, full of makeup and expensive jewels, all arranged in an orderly manner. Then there was a table next to the vanity on which sat a variety of beautiful red haired wigs.
“They’re made from real hair.” A voice said from behind you. You turned to see Lady Scarlett, wearing a maroon robe and a black mask covering her identity. Her trademark red hair, still styled as beautifully as the first time you saw it and that bright red lipstick on her lips. “Benjamin was sweet enough to get them for me.”
She walked past you and sat down on a couch next to the window that opened to the balcony outside, and then she lit up a cigarette, holding it in a vintage cigarette holder.
Not that I would ever condone a nasty habit such as smoking, but she looked absolutely badass in that moment.
“What do you want, Mrs Blackwood?” Scarlett let out a huge exhale of smoke.
“Fitzgerald. I know about the rings.” You state, watching her take another drag.
“What rings?” She asked, feigning innocence.
“The golden rings.” You narrow your eyes. “I saw it on your hand that night and I saw it on Benjamin’s hand as well. I know whats going on, and I’m here to talk about that.” Taking a deep breath, you blurted out your suspicions.
“I know you and Benjamin are in a relationship.”
She looked up at you expectedly, not at all alarmed at being caught. Then again, why would she be caught off guard? Considering the line of business she’s in, she probably has practiced her poker face.
“Is that so, Mrs Blackwood?” Scarlett’s lip’s curled up. “So what?”
So what?
“Look, I mean no harm, but I- I care about Benjamin a lot. He’s like family to me, and I know its not my place but I am very protective of him and I just… I’m just here to make sure that this is not some sort of game for you. I don’t want you playing with his feelings, so if you’re not serious about him then I suggest you end things with him now before it gets too messy.”
Scarlett looked at you before chuckling. “As you wish, Mrs Blackwood.” He stood up with a click of his tongue. “Now, is that all or do you have any more shocking news to pass on to me, Mrs Blackwood? I suggest you do it now because you wont be stepping a foot in this club again.”
“Its Mrs Fitzgerald. And I don’t plan on returning to this depraved scum either.”
“Depraved scum, huh?” Scarlett tilted her head slightly in a mocking manner. “Since you insist on calling yourself Mrs Fitzgerald so proudly, let me show you something as well.” He opened the door and lead you towards the top of the stairwell, from where you could see everyone and everything down below on the dance floor.
She nodded her head to the far right corner and your heart dropped for a second. Is that-
“Mr Fitzgerald seems to be enjoying himself. Though not all that much.” Scarlett said as your eyes remained focused on Silas who was sitting on a chair, looking uninterested by the different women who surrounded him. “Maybe he likes boys. I’ll send some his way-” You rushed out of the club, not able to hear another word or see Silas for another moment longer.
-
Its been a couple of days since you went to the club. Of course, when you arrived home and waited for Silas to return, who upon your questioning about his whereabouts claimed he was meeting a businessman.
He lied.
You tried to distract yourself by taking more ballet lessons from Sarah, but still your attention lingered on him.
Why was he there?
You then tried to divert your mind towards work, and then here you are, sitting on your desk with a blank paper, ready to be filled with words.
Why was he there?
Dropping your pen because you knew you weren’t going to be able to get anything done until you processed your feelings about this.
What feelings? Certainly not jealousy because I am far more mature than this. Its just-
I thought he had standards. Taste. Sure I might not be fine wine, but I’m certainly better than those skank-
Nope. I am a woman. I will not be bringing other women down because of a man.
But Silas… how dare he? Yes, how dare he?! I am not jealous, I am insulted! How dare he act like he’s a polished aristocrat and I’m just ditzy, poorer than a church mouse, a NOBODY, when he goes around prancing his repute and himself in the utter gutters of London?
Maybe he’s just hypersexual. Yes, he’s a depraved, disgusting individual and I married him. Great. So the first man I married, had a NIKKAH with, turned out to be lying, cheating, piece of-
Why did he lie?
Its not like he expects me to sleep with him. If he did, why would he still make me sleep on the floor?
Baldwin would’ve never made me sleep on the floor, always covered me with his cloak because he knew how much the cold bothered me.
And he’s always so rude to me! He beat me at tennis, quite literally!
Salauddin always lost to me in chess. And he let me rub my wins in his face too!
Not to mention, how uncaring he is to my feelings!
Ibrahim always put my happiness above everything. He chose to wait for me, until I was safe- felt safe.
And of all of them, I ended up marrying Silas.
How dare he?
Pushing yourself back into your desk, you began writing down furiously. Fuck Silas, fuck Henry, and fuck Lady Scarlett! I WILL go back to Aveline Asylum, I WILL expose the the Ripper and- if I have time, maybe find Benny a better significant other!
“Woah there- what are you writing?” Colin came up behind you, frowning at the title he read.
“The Ripper strikes again! Murder outside the exclusive club for the wealthy freaks!” Colin looked at you. “Have you gone bonkers?”
“Yes.” You snapped. “You cant talk me out of it, so why don’t you go and get us access into Aveline asylum again. Discreetly, this time.”
By the time everyone was going home, you had finished your article and dropped it on the editor’s desk just as he was about to leave.
“Read this. Trust me, its worth it.” You look over your shoulder. “And I have a witness ready to go public- Mrs Fitzgerald.” Of course, the editor wouldn’t ever figure out that you are Mrs Fitzgerald, not Mr Holmes.
-
However, you were a little surprised to see that he hadn’t published your article in the paper the next morning. Storming to work, you quickly made your way towards the editor’s office, barging in without knocking.
“Hello there, love.” He smiled cheekily. Instead of your editor, Henry Blackwood sat in his chair, his legs propped up on the desk. “I was waiting for you.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“What? You can barge into my business, but I can’t swing by yours?” He asked, feigning hurt.
“No. Now leave.”
“Well then its a good thing that this is also my business now.” Henry grinned, removing his feet from the desk and replacing them with his arms, resting his head in his hand as he stared at your fuming self.
“What?”
“Oh love, you’re looking at your new boss. I just bought the paper this morning.” He winked, standing up and making his way to you. “See, I told you not to come by the club again, I told you to drop the Ripper case, and you didn’t listen either time. So, I’ve come here to tame you. Personally. Seems like you need my undivided attention, kitten-”
“I did drop the Ripper case. I didn’t give my statement to the police!” You exclaimed.
He tutted, wagging his finger at you. “No, but you did write an article. You’re lucky I was here before it got published.”
You frowned. “How- how did you know about the article? I wrote it yesterday, I gave it to the editor at the last moment-”
“I have eyes everywhere, Y/n.” He smirked, leaning down to whisper. “Especially on you, naughty kitten.”
Henry chuckled as he looked at your flushed face, mistaking your anger for bashfulness. He walked out of the door but not before passing another comment to tick you off.
“Nice moustache. Or shall I say… whiskers, kitten?”
-
For the next 3 days, you didn’t leave the house. You didn’t even leave your room. It seemed like all your previous pettiness-driven motivation had run out and dropped you into the well of depression. And here you wallowed in your sadness, taking Silas’s bed even when he was away and looking like a pitiful lump of sadness under the covers.
“What is wrong with you?” Silas asked, exasperated as he sat down on the bed to tie his shoes. “How long will this go on? You have missed your ballet classes and you are worrying grandmother.”
“I’m just sleepy, okay?” You mumbled from under the sheets. “Its not like sleeping on the cold, hard floor is helping me.”
“And it seems like sleeping in my bed hasn’t helped either.” He raised a brow. “Its been 3 days already. This has gone long enough. Now you can either tell me what is wrong or I will have Cadbury drag you out and hose you down in the gardens.”
You shoved the covers down to glare at him. Asshole. You don’t doubt that he would have his butler hose you down.
“I miss… I miss my brother.” You mumbled as you averted your eyes. “Qasim would fix everything for me. He always had a solution, always. And I- I need him right now. To guide me, to handle things for me.”
“So… why don’t you ask for his help?” Silas asked, fixing his tie.
You stared at his back before looking down at your lap. “We’re not on speaking terms… I’m mad at him.”
Silas rolled his eyes. “Well he’s your family, isn’t he? I’m sure you can still talk to him.”
“Cant.” You muttered gloomily, making Silas’s annoyance trigger off.
“And why the bloody hell not?” He turned to glare at you. “You cant get out of my bed! You cant attend work! You cant take your classes! You cant tell me what’s bothering you! And you cant talk to your own brother! Why!? Why?! WHY?!”
You flinched at his harsh town before tears filled your eyes.
“Because… he’s dead.”
Your statement rung in Silas’s ears like a daunting bell. Dead. Dead. Dead.
God, did he feel like shit now.
You threw the covers off you, getting out of bed as you fixed his sheets.
“Sorry for hogging your bed.” You sniffled, using your sleeve to wipe your tears as you walked past him, only for Silas to catch your wrist. With a gentle tug, he had you sitting back down on the bed.
“I’m sorry.” He said, sincerely. “I was just… frustrated due to things at work. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“Its fine, whatever. You’re right, I’ll go to work and classes-” He tightened his grip on your wrist when you tried to leave.
“No.” He tilted your chin towards him. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong. I may not be your brother, but I am your husband.”
You stared at him conflicted. Did he really mean it?
He answered your silent question with a gentle squeeze of your hand. “I will fix your problems, Y/n.” He offered a smile. “Your duke is at your service.”
-
After you told Silas your work situation with Henry and how he’s stopping you from writing anything about Jack the Ripper, how you cant get anything done with his shadow looming over you and monitoring everything you do, Silas explained that solution to it was all simple.
“I will buy the paper from Henry.” He stated nonchalantly, as if he was talking about buying eggs not a newspaper company.
“I dont think he will give you the company. He wont put it up for sale-”
“Everything is for sale, Y/n. You just need to find the right price.” He stood up, assuring you he will buy the company. “I’ll get the company, if you promise to put on a great show. You focus on the ballet classes. After all, the show is only a week from now.”
The following seven days were filled with you doing ballet for hours and hours, all with one motivation.
Not to let Silas down.
Because if I let him down, if I embarrass him, then he wont get the paper from Henry. And I wont be able to find Jack the Ripper or help Colin with the asylum! And Silas will lose trust in me and wont let me have my space at the Westminster palace or wherever so that I can work on my time machine-
Time machine! You face palmed. I’ve been so busy with the murders and shitty men that I forgot to build my machine! My way home!
No, after the show, I’m- I’m demanding- I’m moving out. I don’t care if I get the paper or not, I need to build my machine.
“Oh Y/n, what are you doing in the storage- honey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to pass out! Cadbury! Hurry and open the windows!” Sarah guided you out of the dusty store to sit down, fanning you with her hands. “Oh dear, do you hate confined spaces like Silas too?”
You took deep breaths as fresh air flooded in through the windows, furrowing your brows. “What?”
“Nothing dear, I just thought you felt suffocated in closed spaces, like Silas!” She explained. “He cant stay in a room with closed windows for too long, you know.”
Now that she mentions it, she’s right. You don’t remember Silas being in a room without at least a window open, even as winter rolled around. Hell, he still opens the balcony windows in the bedroom as soon as he wakes up, but you thought that was because he hated your guts and wanted to give you an early wake up call by letting the cold air slap your face and rattle your bones.
“Why does he hate confined spaces?” You ask, letting her loosen your corset.
Sarah looked a little hesitant to tell you, but then relented when you asked her again. “He never told me the reason, but I figured it was the night when his mother passed away. Silas… he was just a young boy, he was hiding in his closet. He liked to scare his mother when she came to check on him, and so he often hid in the closet to give her a fright. He saw his mother get murdered while he was in the closet.” She looked down sadly. “Unfortunately, the killer’s identity was hidden by the dark night. Silas wasn’t able to identify who killed his mother, and I suppose he’s blamed himself a little for that incident.”
Damn. Thats… dark. And sad.
Maybe I can excuse Silas for being rude to me at times. Maybe. Just a tad.
The night of the ballet show rolled around quicker than you’d expected. And despite all the hours of practice and Sarah’s countless assurances that you’d be amazing, you knew the reality.
Your performance was barely passable.
From a young age, you were able to critique yourself very well. As Qasim said- “Only you know yourself the best!” And you knew right now, as you stood backstage, peeking through the curtains at the audience and spotting the queen and her family, you were utterly, truly set up for failure.
NO ONE CAN LEARN BALLET IN 2 MONTHS! AT LEAST NOT ENOUGH TO IMPRESS THE QUEEN!
Your stomach churned, you felt bile rise up your throat, your legs wobbled as you backed away from the curtain, stumbling away, right into Silas’s arms.
“Silas- Silas, I cant do this! I can’t! I can’t!” You cried out and Silas tightened his grip on your arms.
“Okay.”
Okay?
“What?”
“Okay. You cant do it.” He squeezes your shoulders. “I guess I’ll just tell everyone to go home. I’ll apologise to the queen and make up an excuse as to why she wont be seeing a performance by my wife tonight. But hey, she’s family. She’ll understand, right?”
You stared at him in confusion. Silas ran a hand through his fingers. “As for all the journalist who came here to write about you, and all the influential people I’ve invited over because this was your formal introduction into high society, I guess I’ll just have to make something up. But you-“ he gave you a warm smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “-you don’t worry your pretty little head over this. Its okay, I… well, if I’m being honest, I never really expected you to perform.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I knew you’d back out at the last second. Oh well, what can we do. Now-” he rubbed his chin in thought. “Should I tell the guests that you’ve broken your leg? Or perhaps you cant perform because you’re with child? If we go with the first excuse, people may call you a ditz, maybe unprofessional. And they might come to check on you. But if we go with the second excuse, people will talk about- well, it has been only a month into our marriage-”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Is he… did he set you up?
“You expected me to not perform?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
“No, Y/n. I expected you to fail to deliver what I require of you. I expected you to perform in front of an audience, and that was all I asked. I didn’t ask you to become a prima donna, I just wanted you to be good enough. Which you are in my opinion. But your doubt in yourself right now is only because you clearly haven’t spent enough time practising because you were too busy running around town, going to clubs and asylums and chasing after a murderer when all of your attention should’ve been on becoming a competent wife!” Silas fumed, tightening his grip on your shoulders. “I asked you again and again to focus on the ballet lessons, and you ignored my advice repeatedly and for what? Because you wanted to prove yourself? Because you wanted to play detective and solve murders? When you cant even do a simple job as putting on a show? And I knew- I knew you would abandon me like this, so you know what, Y/n? While I keep my end of the bargain, while I invited Henry tonight to talk him into selling the paper to me, you continue to let me down. So go on stage or don’t, I really don’t give a shit now. I can’t take your word ever again.”
Silas stormed off, leaving you shell shocked backstage. You sat down on the steps, trying to control your breathing. How could he- how can he say all that to you?
Does he not understand the pressure you’re under? Does he not understand how hard all of this is for you?
You really thought that after you told him about Qasim, after he assured he that he would help you out, that he would fix your problems-
I thought he understood. I thought he had my back.
You let out a shaky exhale, rubbing your chest to ease your ache. Why is it so hard to breathe all of a second?
Tonight, you didn’t invite Colin or Benny or any of the boys, and it only hit you now how truly lonely you were. There’s no Colin. No Benny. No friends. No family. No Qasim. No… Silas.
“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you alright?” Cadbury looked alarmed as he spotted you looking shell shocked, struggling to breathe.
“I… I cant-” You couldn’t speak, and the butler quickly took your nervous, trembling form in and sprung into action.
“Here, duchess- ma’am, drink this.” He brought you a cup of tea. “It’ll calm the nerves, ma’am. Drink it.”
You let the bitter, warm liquid slide down your throat without a second thought.
“You’ll be alright now, ma’am. You’ll be all… right.” The butler assured you kindly, helping you stand up. In just a matter of seconds, your anxiety had melted away and was replaced with… unbridled confidence.
“What did I just drink?” The words slipped out as you felt your heart beat faster. Your eyes snapped towards Cadbury. “What did you give me?” The words came out quickly.
“Nothing special. Its just tea to calm you.” He said, ushering you up the steps towards the stage curtains. “Are you ready now, ma’am?”
Your eyes zeroed in on the white particles on his collar. Like powder.
“Is that snow?” If you weren’t so hyper focused on his collar, it would concern you how fast you were talking. “Is it snowing outside already?”
Cadbury looked down on his collar and suppressed a smile. “Yes, duchess. You could say that. Now- please return your attention to your performance. We are all rooting for you.”
“Not Silas.” You snapped again, your eyes looking at the dark curtains as you take your position. “Not that twat.”
Cadbury’s brows shot up in shock. “Ma’am-”
“I’ll show that twat.” And then the curtains opened.
-
Silas sat down in his seat with a satisfied sigh. Everything is going according to plan. You’re nervous and he just chewed you out so the stage will now be empty because you’ve ran off to cry a river, the royal family will once again be embarrassed as they happily welcomed Silas and his Muslim wife into the family (by making them the duke and duchess) and with all the journalists he invited, the news will now spread like wildfire that Silas rejected a princess, Queen Victoria’s daughter to marry an embarrasment.
The princess was one upped by a fool. A commoner. A failed ballerina.
Did Silas feel bad for you? Just a little, because he didnt like the way you looked at him, hoping for support, maybe even motivation, only for him to break your heart. Broken hearts can be mended, but broken reputations? Nope.
Besides, he’s sure that when he buys the company from Henry and give it to you, you’ll forget all about it! Everything will work out just as he’d planned-
What the hell?
The curtain opened and instead of being met with an empty stage like he’d planned, there you stood in your white tutu skirt, face completely devoid of any expression.
What are you doing?
The pianist began playing a tune he didn’t recognise. Sarah did tell him that of the three songs you had chosen, there was one she hadn’t heard ever before. You’d worked with the pianist to get the tune right, and at that time, he was impressed at how much work you were putting into this.
As the music played, you began dancing. From what his grandmother had told him, he was expecting soft, gentle, shy dance.
And yet you were doing anything but that. Your movements were strong, powerful, determined. You were nothing like the woman whose hope he’d crushed just moments ago. You were all alone on that big stage, but you practically leaped from one side of the stage to the other, your legs faster than lightening.
By no means did you look like a mess, or that you didn’t know what your were doing. Your eyes were wide open, as if hyper aware of your surroundings and your audience. From beside him, Silas could hear his grandmother whispering the choreography.
“En pointe. En pointe. En pointe.” You were now dancing on the tip of your toes, and Silas could only imagine how painful, if not destructive this could be to your feet.
“Tendu. Chaine turn. Chaine turn. Pique manege.” Now, you were moving across the stage while making turns.
And finally, the big ending. “Pirouette. Pirouette. Keep spotting, Y/n. Pirouette.” Silas knew about the pirouettes. He watched you spin around your own axis, in a fixed position on a ground, your body moving first, your head later, your eyes focused on a spot in the dark so that you don’t lose your balance. You turned- 1,2,3, he lost count because you were turning too fast.
“34- was that 34 turns, Silas?”
Thirty four? Thirty four pirouettes?!
The performance ended with fouetté turns, which according to Sarah were about 28 and you exited the stage dancing en pointe, on the tip of your toes.
The ballet hall erupted in applause and cheers, and Silas stood up with everyone else to give a standing ovation to a now empty stage.
What the hell just happened?
-
Its hot. Its hot. I’m burning up!
As soon as you were off stage, of which you have no memory of your performance, you almost fell to the ground if it weren’t for strong arms catching you. And the moment your eyes caught sight of the broad shoulders, you instantly pushed yourself away, throwing yourself against the wall to support yourself.
“Careful there, love.” Henry grinned, clapping his hands in mocking manner. “That was quite the performance you gave, kitten. I’m very impressed.”
“What are you doing here?” You spat out, wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. He tilted his head, amused at the sight of your flushed cheeks. “Silas invited me. He wanted to discuss business. I wonder if the little kitten went to her owner for help because she couldn’t scratch me with her tiny paws?”
“Owner?” You heaved a shaky breath. His smirk widened. “What else would you name it? He bought you to be his wife, because you know and I know that there isn’t and there never will be love between you two. He’s just using you. So drop the charade and come to me-” Henry caught your wrist before you could slap him, and while he may have stopped your physical assault, he wasn’t able to stop your verbal one.
“What would you know about love? You’re here, pursuing a married woman who has insulted you from the very first moment. Those skanks at your disgusting club have more self esteem than you do right now. You’re fucking pathetic and I’d rather eat a cactus and shit it out before I marry an entitled, emasculated prick like you. Fuck off!” You shoved him away and stormed out of there, unaware of just how much Henry wanted to wring your neck (just for a moment) and how a certain someone had overheard this little spat.
And he smiled proudly.
Good job, Y/n. He thought to himself.
-
“Fuck!” You screamed as you burst through the doors and landed out in the gardens, falling to the snowy ground, letting the ice cool your burning temperature.
How the hell am I burning up when its literally snowing?!
You grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it to your face, trying to cool down your body temperature. When that didnt work, you dove face first into the ground, before flipping on your back, letting the snow engulf your body from all sides. Your ballerina costume was thin and sheer as it could be, finally allowing the cold to creep into your skin and slowly into your bones.
Now that the adrenaline rush and whatever the hell was in that tea wore off, your body immediately went into fatigue and became aware of all the aches in your body, especially the pain in your feet. You tried to move, but your muscles didn’t budge. They were tired out, strained beyond their limits.
The cold suddenly became too unbearable and your teeth rattled. You tried to lift your head, tried to yell for help but it was like your mind had suddenly went autopilot and decided to shut down to let your body recover from its fatigue.
“No…” You whispered, as tears slipped out of your eyes. Everyone was inside, the party was loud, no one would even hear you scream for help even if you tried, no one would come to your aid. The realisation that you would freeze to death had you panicking, but alas, your brain refused to cooperate with you.
You heard the sound of footsteps and a glimmer of hope rose in you. Turning your head to the side took the last bit of energy, and your brain put you out of your misery when you saw the daunting shadowy figure that imprinted itself in your mind from the night of the murder.
The cloak, the top hat, a golden ring on his hand and the shiny glint of the knife.
The Ripper is here.
Your mouth fell open in a silent scream before you blacked out.
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So??? Thoughts??? Also nobody @ me for not putting a "keep reading" button because I had to edit 12k words TWICE on mobile, I have pulled an all nighters for yall. I have to go to clinic in loke 2 hours.
Yall better send comment and send ask.
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homunculus-argument · 7 months ago
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My usual problem of "and then some other shit happens" is that they keep piling up on top of each other. This morning, I was just about to start work when
mail comes in. I've received a letter from the tax office.
I open the letter and get a Fuck No Way That's Right kinda bill.
time to hit up my accountant and ask what the fuck do I do now
realise that I haven't delivered my accounting stuff for like four months either, gotta apologise to her about that too
e-mail doesn't go through, double-check the address, re-type my whole apology and explanation again
four consecutive e-mails do not go through
fuck I gotta call them, where's my phone
just as I was about to make a phone call, I receive a phone call
forgot I had a phone appointment with my doctor, turns out I do not have a natural physical resistance to poison damage, and my medication resistance is something else.
confident in my ability to execute two unrelated tasks at once, I take a sip of my tea while on the phone. Naturally I fuck it up and pour the lukewarm tea on my lap instead.
figuring that since I'm unhurt and only poured enough to soak my clothes, not my chair, I'll just sit with the wet tea on my lap until the phonecall is over, and hang them to dry on the balcony later.
phonecall done, I remove my clothes and go hang them up to dry.
spot my little ficus tree cutting on the balcony, decide to water it since it's so hot and I don't want the thing to die.
coming back inside after leaving my clothes on the balcony, my boyfriend sees me undressed and wants affection.
he also wants to show me a video that he came upon.
make myself more tea
coming back to my computer, remember the phonecall I was supposed to make.
call the accounting people and tell them I can't e-mail the person I worked with, and get informed that the person I had been working with quit unexpectedly, and the one currently running the whole business on her own will look into my shit once she's personally out of the hospital. She meant to call me earlier about What The Fuck I'm Doing but unfortunately hospital.
promise her to deliver my accounting things today since it's the least I can do to not make her day any worse than it already is.
save through my paypal activities, log onto my online bank, check my account and do some math to confirm that I should more or less be alright until my next payday. Move some more money to my bank card account for groceries, and log out.
remember that the reason why I logged into my bank in the first place was the accounting, and log back in to get that data.
send my records to my new current accountant with apologies for not doing that for four months despite of being supposed to do it monthly.
finally done with that, satisfied of actually Getting Things Done, I suddenly realise I've spent the past three hours on random sidequests, haven't even touched whatever it was that I was planning to do today, and top of that I've completely forgotten what it was that I meant to do.
waste another half an hour writing a meticulous account of how I spent my morning doing everything else than what I meant to.
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ckret2 · 14 days ago
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Pictured above: a shape's eye view of the end of the world.
The second dimension has burned; and Bill's been accidentally setting the second dimension's neighbors on fire. At the moment, the Axolotl is trying really, really hard to convince himself that these two facts are unrelated. Here, have a fic.
This is chapter 5 of an ongoing fic about the Axolotl in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre as Bill just keeps on committing atrocities. If you wanna read the earlier chapters (and/or look at more pretty art of Bill committing horrors and the Ax witnessing horrors), here's chapters one, two, three, and four.
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As soon as the Axolotl and the Time Giant exited Dimension Zero, they were greeted with a faceful of rain. Apparently the storm cloud with the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force had been waiting for them. "The fires in the remaining dimensions around 2Δ are finally acting like normal fires," it said. "No teleporting around, no more targeting the mortals. We've got the worst ones under control. Think we'll save about 40% of Dimension 2 Zeta and 30% of Dimension 2 Epsilon. Whatever you two did in there, it helped."
"Yeah, well." The Time Giant shrugged, nearly dislodging the Axolotl from his perch draped over her shoulder. "It was one of those problems that fixes itself once you figure out what it is."
So the Time Giant had been right. The triangle's attempts to rescue "his" "people" and to stabilize his strange underworld in Dimension Zero had been what was destabilizing all the other dimensions. As much of a relief as it was to hear the situation was improving... part of the Axolotl had hoped that the fires were still as untamed as ever—because that would have meant the triangle wasn't guilty of perpetuating the blaze.
(If the triangle wasn't actively working to keep Dimension Zero stable, how much longer until it collapsed and erased all its imprisoned souls from existence? Would it be long enough to get them all out?)
The cloud asked, "So, did you find out what destroyed 2Δ?" Right. The Axolotl had almost forgotten that was what they'd originally been looking for.
The Time Giant shook her head grimly. "Didn't see any sign of it. But I've got a suspicion who did it."
The Axolotl said sharply, "All we have is circumstantial evidence." And he'd ripped into more than one god who'd tried to damn a mortal based on circumstantial evidence. 
The cloud's sunbeam darted between their faces. Slowly, it said, "I take it you mean our triangular friend. I don't have any proof yet about the original fire; but he's been spreading the fire, I know that much."
"How did you know?" the Axolotl asked. He and the Time Giant had only just learned it themselves inside Dimension Zero.
"We've been interviewing some refugees while you were out. I—think you'll want to speak to them." The cloud directed this statement to the Axolotl.
The Time Giant said, "Later. The triangle says he's willing to move his people to another dimension." She gestured toward VENDOR, flanked by the two cops THEY'd apparently adopted as THEIR personal escorts. THEY were ranting into a phone that the crab-looking cop was holding up for them. "So we've gotta go discuss refugee stuff with Vendy McVendface."
"VENDOR," the cloud corrected.
"Vend 'er? I hardly even know 'er!"
The gods turned to stare at the border of Dimension Zero as the triangle laughed at his own joke until he wheezed. "I had to. It was sitting right there! It woulda been a crime not to pick it up!" His cackles slowly petered out. "What, no laughs? Maybe the joke doesn't translate."
The Time Giant shrugged. "I kinda thought it was funny."
"Ah, whatever."
"Have you been listening the whole time?" the Axolotl asked, not sure whether to be amused or mortified.
"Don't worry about it, I've got something more important to say." He zipped up along the surface of Dimension Zero's border until he was eye level with the Time Giant. "Hey, Hourglass. I didn't say I'm ready to move my people. I said I'm ready to talk about moving. Your guy better sell me on it. If your offer isn't worth it, we're not leaving."
"Are you serious?" She screwed up her face. "Ain't not being erased from existence worth it?"
"I have very high standards. And there are fates worse than death."
"Name one."
The triangle only thought about it a second before he answered, "Captivity."
####
It wasn't until the Axolotl and the Time Giant left the border of Dimension Zero that the Axolotl realized, the moment the triangle had shown up, the storm cloud had disappeared. It was now drizzling surreptitiously near VENDOR, waiting for them to catch up.
As they approached VENDOR, the Time Giant said, "You should give VENDOR the news."
The Axolotl gave her an affronted look. "Why me?" This wasn't his responsibility. He hadn't been hired to do a job here. He shouldn't even be here; he was essentially an over-involved lookie-loo.
"You'd be better at talking to 'em. You move in the same circles."
"I'm not a politician, I'm a lawyer."
"I'm an engineer." She took the Axolotl off her shoulder and nudged his butt to set him gently floating in VENDOR's direction.
The Axolotl twisted around to give her a resentful look, but swam toward the vending machine.
THEY ignored the Axolotl until THEY finished THEIR current call, at which point THEY snapped, "What?" and he explained the situation. Blessedly, THEY didn't ask any further questions or give him any instructions; THEY just grumbled, "Finally," and told the crab cop, "Call the Vitruvian Mandala—we'll need to find places for another ten million 2D refugees."
"And 1D," the Axolotl said.
"Yes, yes." THEY muttered under THEIR fan, "And hopefully we'll get that triangle to the afterlife he deserves and be done with him."
The Axolotl doubted THEY meant a serene eternal paradise. Pointedly, he said, "Which afterlife he goes to is his choice."
Afterlife law was his speciality. Not cases like "based on this mortal's good and bad deeds, which form has she earned for her next reincarnation?" or "has this soul earned entry into his religion's realm of the wicked, the good, or the heroic?" Those were decided on the local level.
Rather, he tended to handle inter-pantheon, sometimes even interdimensional, cases—like, "if a mortal born on one planet lives and dies on another planet, which world's afterlife has claim to his soul?" "Is a soul's right to return to her native afterlife forfeit if she's apprehended in another god's jurisdiction for crimes against reality?" "Can a death god in a dimension where wandering ghosts are banned incarcerate a ghost from a dimension where wandering is legal?" "How does a soul's right to claim an afterlife weigh against an afterlife's right to claim a soul?" "Who has the right to judge a deceased mortal in the first place?"
The Axolotl personally thought that mortals deserved to be treated as mercifully as possible—starting with respecting the dead's own choice of afterlife above all others, and ending with outlawing damnation at the interdimensional level.
The rest of the multiverse... didn't agree with him yet. He didn't intend to stop until they did.
He went on, "Case law has long established that unless the dead made other arrangements premortem, they will be taken to—in order—the afterlife of their birth, their death, or their choice. The afterlife under whose jurisdiction the triangle lived and died has been destroyed, so he can go to any afterlife that says they're willing to take him, whether or not you think it's what he deserves—"
VENDOR's camera rolled and THEY impatiently beeped acknowledgment. "Do you mind, I'm on the phone." THEY turned THEIR back on the Axolotl to focus on THEIR next call. Yeah, most gods didn't like being told they couldn't just smite and damn whoever they felt like.
The storm cloud called the Axolotl's attention with a fork of lightning. It said, "I'll need to help coordinate the rescue efforts with VENDOR. I can get the report on what you learned in there from the engineering inspector; but you need to go talk to some of the witnesses of the fire. Maybe you should ask the Vitruvian Mandala when He's free."
That was the second time it had told him to talk to the refugees. "Why?"
"You said that yellow triangle's your friend, right?"
"I... did, yes."
The cloud didn't explain any further. It only said, "Be careful around him."
####
VENDOR bustled around making preparations to receive ten million new refugees with absolutely no input from anyone else on the scene; the cloud's time was split between coordinating with the ATTF and getting a full debrief from the Time Giant on the conditions inside Dimension Zero; and left alone, the Axolotl found himself staring into the roiling barrier around the bloated singularity.
He swore, no matter where he looked, in the center of his view he could see a tiny, yellow, triangular pinprick of light, like an afterimage burned into his retina. No matter how deeply he looked into Dimension Zero, somehow his eyes always seemed focused on the triangle, making it appear nearer and then farther, like an optical illusion.
Be careful around him. He wished his Oracle were here to ask him questions. Helping her mortal mind make sense of this whole affair might help him make sense of it himself.
He'd seen the horror in the triangle's eye when he realized that he was the one incinerating the dimensions that had once bordered his own. He'd heard the sincerity in the triangle's voice when he said he could feel the deaths of every life that fell into his dream realm—the deaths that he himself was causing. He'd felt the guilt pouring from the triangle when he realized his efforts to save "his people" from being killed were what was killing them. Whatever else the Axolotl knew, he was sure the triangle hadn't meant to cause anyone harm. He hadn't started the fires on purpose. He just... didn't know what he was doing.
And "his people"—what did that mean?
Maybe some of the people in the triangle's dance party were from his dimension. The Axolotl couldn't totally confirm that they weren't; if the triangle had somehow survived, then why not others?
But it was undeniable that the triangle had been "rescuing"/kidnapping people from other dimensions, and he talked about the people he'd rescued no differently from the people from his own dimension.
Why? Had members of his species spread to neighboring dimensions? Or had his species come from another? Had his people established diplomatic relationships with cultures in neighboring universes, enough for them to consider themselves one people?
"Certainly not," said the Vitruvian Mandala.
He was a god from one of the worlds in Dimension 2 Gamma that the ATTF had managed to evacuate before the dimension was fully incinerated. Now, He was just another refugee, huddled with His confused, terrified people on one of the temporary worlds provided by VENDOR, curved uncomfortably atop the spherical planet. He had to be reeling from the loss of His home just as much as His people were—if not more, since He had known and seen and done and loved much more that any single mortal could. But nevertheless, He'd immediately stepped up to assist with organizing the rescue services, acting as a liaison between VENDOR and the 2D mortals to find new homes for them. 
And some of His people had been among the ones dragged into Dimension Zero—which was no doubt why the cloud had suggested the Axolotl speak to Him.
The Vitruvian Mandala may have been a minor creation god (He'd only created a galaxy) but He was more than powerful enough to know whether any of His people had ever made interdimensional contact. The Axolotl had waited until He had a moment to spare from assisting VENDOR, and then asked Him about their relationship with Dimension 2 Delta.
"I seeded life on all the populated worlds in My galaxy. None of My worlds have ever so much as been colonized by another galaxy in Our own dimension, much less people from another dimension," He said. "And We're a young galaxy—the most advanced starfarers have hardly ventured beyond their own solar systems; none have left Our dimension."
"And they've never spoken to other dimensions...?"
"No. The first contact We ever had with 'Dimension 2 Delta'—or what was left of it—was when the Magister Mentium began dragging My people into his underworld. The leaders I've had a chance to speak to from Dimension 2 Epsilon and Dimension 2 Zeta have told Me the same. " He called the triangle 'Magister Mentium' without any of the halting awkwardness the Axolotl did, or even the self-consciousness the triangle himself did. The Vitruvian Mandala had never known the triangle as anything but the Magister Mentium—and in His voice, it sounded not like an oversized title for a tiny triangle, but like the name of a fellow god.
But—the Axolotl had only asked the Vitruvian Mandala about Dimension 2 Delta. He hadn't brought up the Magister Mentium, nor mentioned that he was asking about the kidnapped people. "How did you know about the Magister Mentium?"
The Vitruvian Mandala said simply, "Because he introduced himself to My people before he started stealing them."
At the Axolotl's shocked silence, He said, "Do you want to see what they saw?"
####
When the agents with the ATTF had started interviewing survivors about the cosmic fire, naturally, they'd first approached the other gods for information. And then the gods had approached the mortals under their charge to get their testimonies and pass them on to the apoc agents.
The Vitruvian Mandala had telepathically extracted His people's memories and copied them into tiny glassy discs with brass rims. He sifted through dozens of discs before offering the memory of a narrow rhombus from one of His most technologically advance worlds; and the Axolotl stared through the disk to experience the mortal's memory.
The memory started with a sight that had become all too familiar to the Axolotl: a distant line of burning blue fire. It took a moment for the Axolotl to orient himself to the mortal's razor-thin two-dimensional view of her world; but once he did, he realized that, from her perspective, it wasn't a line of light. To her, it was the entire sky. The constellations of faraway flat stars had vanished, and their place was taken by an inferno.
The whole world reeked of a stench that the rhombus didn't recognize, but that the Axolotl did: burning hydrogen. In most dimensions, three-fourths of all the matter in the entire universe—including the very stars themselves—consisted of hydrogen molecules. Hydrogen burned a pale blue. The stench in the air, the pale blue light filling the sky, was the smell and sight of the raw materials of reality itself burning away.
The nearby buildings had emptied into the city streets as people abandoned their work to coming outside and stare at the burning sky. Somewhere—it seemed very far away—people were screaming, sirens were wailing, government proclamations were issuing out of radios and loudspeakers; but on these streets, on the border of the city where the sky was most visible, everyone was horribly silent. 
An eerie feeling of unreality hung over the world. It felt like a scene out of a dream. The rhombus's heart filled with dread. She didn't understand why or how the sky was burning, but she felt in her bones that it must mean the end of the world.
She never imagined that it was the end of the entire universe.
And then, more real than reality itself, bright enough to blind, a radioactive-yellow shape appeared in the middle of the crowd. Over the gasps of shock, a voice that echoed between the buildings proclaimed, "Gooood evening! Lines, bis, and tris; quads, quints, and more—my beloved believers and my new friends—I'm sure you all recognize my voice from the news, but it's a pleasure to finally meet you all in the flesh!"
She wasn't sure he had any flesh to meet. He was ghostlike, as insubstantial as smoke—and just as formless as smoke, too: his shape constantly shimmered and shifted and distorted, his skin appearing and disappearing as his internal organs were exposed; one moment a leg visible, the next a hand, then no limbs at all, just his blindingly bright body. His organs were all wrong. When she could stand to squint at the specter's light, in the split seconds that his ghostly form was properly visible, she thought he looked like a triangle.
(She'd never seen the third dimension, never even attempted to imagine what a 3D shape might look like. She didn't realize his appearance shifted because he was a 2D shape tilting in 3D directions trying to lay flat on the 2D plane of Dimension 2 Gamma, and not quite succeeding. )
"Allow me to introduce myself properly: I'm the Magister Mentium, seer of the third dimension! Your gateway to the stars and stardom, your guide to prophets and profits, your mastermind and master of minds; and, if you're lucky, your new eternal party host! I'm sure the honor's all yours—but please, resist the urge to swoon! I have a limited time offer that you cannot afford to miss."
For all his self-aggrandizing, the triangle was still completely unfamiliar. She didn't see recognition in the eyes of any of the shapes around them, either. She doubted he'd ever actually been on the news at all, unless it was in one of those dubious programs about ghost hunting or UFOs. 
But the triangle charged on regardless: "I'm here to bring you salvation from— Whoops! We've got a crying baby over here. Sorry junior, I'm on stage right now." She hadn't even noticed the crying until the triangle pointed it out; the whole world seemed dull and muffled and gray except for the triangle. One of his arms stretched in the child's direction and disappeared; there was a split-second flash of black fingers where the baby used to be; and then both hand and baby vanished, the baby's cries morphing into a shriek of terror that slowly faded into the unseeable distance.
"My baby!" a rectangle wailed. She rushed up to the alien triangle. "What did you do to my baby, you—" She tried to seize his arm, and let out a howl of pain as her hands burst into flame.
"Calm down, Mama, your little brat's okay!" He reached out and flicked the rectangle back. His finger hit her with the force of a catapult. She tumbled away from him through dimensions unknown, skins and bone and organs turning inside-out over each other; and slammed into a nearby building, fusing with the wall. All that was visible of her was a thin cross section of meat. The rhombus couldn't imagine where the rest of her had gone—but she could smell the burning flesh.
"Too bad I can't say the same of you." The triangle turned to stare them all down, gaze darting restlessly from face to face. His pupil was bizarrely long, animal-like; and his gaze burned. She was sure that, if his gaze had lingered on her a moment longer, she would have caught fire, too. "We're burning time, people! Would anyone else like to be excused? Last call!"
There were a few whispers, but no one moved. The crowd was petrified with fear.
"Terrrrific! Then you'd better listen close, because I only have time to say this once," the triangle said. "Here's the deal! There's only two kinds of people: the ones who hate captivity, and the ones who love it. Oh yeah, there are people who love it! Some of 'em like inflicting it, some of 'em are too stupid to think for themselves, and some of 'em just want to do terrible things and pretend they had no choice!
"But I'm here to help the rest of you—you know who you are! You're the ones who never quite tessellated with the other kids! The ones who are sick and tired of your family saying you had so much potential and asking where it's all gone! You can feel the barbs of social obligation hooking into your flesh—yeah, you there, you know what I'm talking about, I see you!—and you'd rip your own skin off if you thought it would set you free! It won't, by the way—take it from a guy who knows! Luckily for you, my way's more effective and less painful! Probably!"
In spite of their fear, more than a few shapes had started pushing closer to the triangle. He was speaking to them.
"So if you crave freedom—from work, laws, morality, physics... death..."
More than a few shapes glanced fearfully toward the sky.
"...if you want to see the stars with me—then raise your hand! Reach out to me! Watch your enemies burn and escape to a realm of dreams with no rules and no responsibilities! That's right, this way!"
As soon as he said raise your hand, it seemed like half the crowd stretched their hands out to him —and the longer he spoke, the more reached out.
She recognized some of the people reaching out—some of them were her neighbors and friends. Here was a beaten-down pentagon who'd spent his whole life being controlled, and just wanted freedom from the ruthless monsters who used and abused him. There was a controlling circle who'd spent her whole life using and abusing others, and wanted freedom to be an even more ruthless monster. They all reached toward the triangle just the same—as if they'd been waiting their whole lives for an opportunity to escape. The desperate, the downtrodden, the dastardly, the barely daring to hope. If the whole burning world felt like a bizarre dream, then this must have felt like a dream come true to them.
But to the rhombus, it felt like a nightmare. She had to fight through the crowd to back away from him. 
"No need to push! If you can't see me, just hold your hand toward my voice, I can see you!"
The smell of burning existence was growing stronger.
Was this a test? An approaching apocalypse and a shapeshifting god of light and fire offering a last-minute rapture. The sky was burning—what hope did they have if they didn't go with him? More of the crowd was reaching for him now—terrified of him, but more terrified of their fate if they didn't. The rhombus reluctantly stretched out a hand.
"Thaaat's right, this way! I've got all of you!" His voice was taking on an edge of impatience. "Just—come on already! Hurry up!"
She was at just the right angle to catch a split second glimpse of the triangle through the crowd. She saw as the person closest to him reached out and grasped his hand. She saw as the first of the triangle's new followers burst into flames. The unlucky soul crumbled to ash before they had a chance to scream.
"I said no pushing."
The rhombus jerked her hand back and hoped the triangle hadn't seen her through the crowd. He wasn't offering salvation.
Most of the crowd wasn't lucky enough to get a view of the unfortunate shapes at the front who were already learning what a deal with the triangle entailed. The rhombus could hear people, as though from a vast distance, calling out to the triangle: "Take me, take me!" "I'll do anything!" It seemed like the whole world was trying to get closer to him; she thought she was the only one trying to move away, until she made it as far back as she could, where the crowd was thinning out, and caught a few other shapes in her peripheral vision who'd moved the same way. More than half the crowd was rushing in toward the triangle.
But apparently, it wasn't enough to satisfy him. "Come on, people!" That enthusiastic voice, halfway between a salesman and a camp counselor, was gone now. His voice went shrill with anxiety. "What's it gonna take?! I'm offering you idiots paradise, why won't you listen? Why don't you ever LISTEN TO ME?!"
For a moment, even though the triangle was completely hidden by the crowd, the rhombus could feel his fiery gaze sweep over her. She felt the way her skin threatened to burst into flames, and she knew he saw her.
She backed away until her rear angle bumped into the nearest building.
"Fine! You've had your chance! I've found my people!" The triangle's voice dropped to an angry snarl. "For all I care, the rest of you can burn."
For every hand that stretched out to the triangle, a black hand reached back toward them—dozens and dozens of hands. "Let's blow up this popsicle stand!"
He seized his new believers' hands.
Most of them instantly burst into flames.
Most of the rest were either jerked away into some unseeable direction like the baby had been, or else the burning ghost hand they were shaking yanked something out of them, leaving behind a dry corpse.
Reality warped and distorted in ways her eye couldn't make sense of: buildings wobbling and spilling apart like they were made of liquid; people twisting together with the buildings in sickening multi-corpsed abominations.
"Whoopsie!" The triangle let out a shrill, tittering laugh. It sounded pained. "S-still gotta get the hang of that. Oh well!" He spoke louder and faster. "I saved as many of you as I could, doing the best I can here, the rest of you don't matter, anyway byyye!"
And then he was gone.
And then they were all awake. She hadn't known they were asleep. Whatever happened hadn't been a mere shared nightmare; it was as though the layer of existence that dreams happened on had been pressed into the layer of existence where reality happened, and she hadn't even noticed until the pressure applied by the triangle lifted and the layers popped apart again.
The layers had popped apart too hard. Several of the shapes nearest the triangle that he hadn't taken with him instantly died—the tether between their souls on the plane of dreams and their bodies on the plane of reality snapped like overstretched rubber bands.
The fused corpse abominations had been left behind, still tangled and mangled with the architecture. The buildings were charred. The survivors were covered in burns they hadn't noticed—everywhere the triangle had looked was burned. Anything the triangle looked through was burned.
She was covered in burns. She could feel the burning inside her body. She raised her hands to her face and felt it peeling off.
She couldn't even feel the bright blue fires roaring down from the heavens.
And then something else lifted her out of the world, just before the reality around them began to burn.
She didn't know where all the people the triangle had taken had gone. But as she blacked out, of one thing she was sure: this higher dimension he'd claimed to see, this realm of stars and dreams? They weren't there.
Wherever they were, they'd gone down.
####
When the Axolotl emerged from the recorded memory, he was dizzy with horror. He had to lay down on the prefab planet next to the Vitruvian Mandala while he reeled.
"Are you all right?" the Vitruvian Mandala asked.
Broken, the Axolotl said, "he threw a baby."
"I know."
"Is the baby alright?"
Delicately, He said, "It's beyond the dimensions I'm able to sense."
The Axolotl curled his gills. Not the baby. "What about the rhombus?"
"Her body was too burned; she died shortly after this memory," the Vitruvian Mandala said. "But fortunately, only a small part of her ghost suffered third degree burns. With an ectoplasm graft she's expected to recovery enough to have a fairly normal afterlife. Inasmuch as any afterlife can be considered 'normal' for My people now."
The Axolotl had noted how many ghosts were mingling with the living mortals when he arrived on this planet. He hadn't wanted to say anything; he didn't know whether that was normal for their people. "I can give you the contact rituals of some interdimensional psychopomps I respect. Very professional and compassionate gods." Although they'd be cursing the Axolotl's name for millennia for throwing so much work on their desks.
"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."
The Axolotl returned the memory disc to the Vitruvian Mandala; He momentarily stared into it Himself before returning it to His collection. "He gave speeches like this all across My populated worlds. I've retrieved thousands of memories like this from My people." His voice shook; the Axolotl couldn't tell if it was with anger or grief. "There would have been more—if more had survived."
"I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else he could do for the poor god but be sorry. All the senseless, slapdash slaughter. All of it so casual and accidental.
"Why?" the Vitruvian Mandala demanded. "He didn't speak like he meant My people harm, but he couldn't have done them more harm if he'd tried! I've never heard of him before—what is he, some malevolent trickster god? Why did he do it"
"Because... he thought he was saving them." That was the only thing the Axolotl could cling to.
####
(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 5 of a 7-or-8-or-9 part fic that keeps getting more parts, about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl run out of ways to pretend Bill didn't destroy his own dimension.
It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Five of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.
If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: Bill got SO CLOSE to looking like a misguided good guy last chapter, and that's why he had to throw a baby.
No actually it was because it seemed really really funny. Flipped that flat little thing like a pancake.
Due to real-world reasons, this is another chapter that isn't as edited & polished as usual, so let me know if you noticed any rough spots that need buffing. And let me know what you think! Bill with his cult leader persona cranked up to 100% is probably the hardest Bill to write.)
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baronessvonglitter · 4 months ago
Text
Like a Good Girl Should
mom's sleazy bf!Joel Miller x f!Reader
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Word count: 2.7K
Summary: Your mom's sleazy new boyfriend Joel Miller is the last person you'd ever want to be alone with.. so how did you end up on his lap getting punished?
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, sleazy!Joel, dominant!Joel, using panties for masturbation, mention of dad in prison & brief prison r@pe joke, slut shaming reader's mom, mild violence, dubious consent (at first), spanking, thigh spanking, pussy spanking, rough fingering, threat of fisting, squirting, masturbation, ejaculation on body, no use of y/n, pet names ('daddy' and 'sir' for Joel; little girl, baby girl, darlin', sweetheart for reader), no specific age for Joel mentioned but there's still an age gap as reader is in college. (If I've forgotten any, please let me know!)
Author's Note: AKA I've got a hankerin' for some spankerin'!
I've had this fic on my mind for a week and now it's finally out. I tried to make Joel as sleazy as I could without being a total nightmare. Thanks to everyone who showed interest when it was a seedling of an idea. I'm honestly looking forward to writing whatever my next kink hyperfixation will be!
JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST
divider by @saradika-graphics👑
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You fucking hate Joel Miller.
He's the asshole who moved in a few months ago.
With your dad in prison, your mom lamented the loss of a man around the house, until one night she brought Joel home with her after meeting him at a sleazy beer joint. And he never left.
He's offensive in every way: he doesn't pick up after himself, doesn't help out with the chores, drinks milk straight from the carton, and walks around in the morning in nothing but his briefs, proudly showing off his god damn morning wood.
Not that you've looked..
And every night it's the same hectic squeaking of your mom's bedsprings, the same quick, loud shrieks followed by moans that crescendo in pitch until it all falls silent, only to start up again fifteen minutes later.
Not that you listen.
He makes no secret about ogling you, making suggestive comments on your clothing (or lack thereof). You count the days until you have enough saved up to move out while you're still attending junior college.
When your mom's working the late shift at the diner down the road, you do some cleaning up while Joel sits on his ass watching some stupid 80s action movie. You gather your clothes and put them in the washer, one by one, making sure the right things are inside out, and that pant legs aren't twisted up.
You find your favorite pair of panties, hot pink silk, the first nice pair of panties you purchased yourself at a fancy lingerie store. Horror makes your stomach sink when you look closer at the crotch of the panties, seeing a glob of what you're one hundred percent sure is cum.
Joel.
You confront him about it and he doesn't even bother to deny it. He simply kicks back on the sofa (fully clothed for once) and tells you you should take it as a compliment.
You should take him jacking off into your favorite pair of panties.. as a compliment.
Seeing red, you tell him to fuck off, to get out, that you'll tell your mom what he's been doing, but he gets up and towers over you, backing you to the wall.
"You ain't gonna do shit, little girl."
"Try me," you dare him.
The look on his face makes you wonder if he'd rather kill you or devour you on the spot.
"Get the fuck out," you whisper, eyes blazing with fury.
"Listen, little girl, and listen good: I'm here whether you like it or not, so get used to it. As long as your mama wants a piece of this," he cups his crotch as you look away in disgust. "Then I'm stayin'. And as long as I'm stayin', it's my rules that run this place, you hear?"
"You can't tell me what to do!" You shout back indignantly.
He scoffs as you say that, irritation flaring at your defiant tone. He shakes his head, continuing to glare at you. "Oh, yes I can, darlin'. As long as you're livin' under my damn roof, I can tell you to do whatever I want you to do, whenever I damn well please."
"This isn't your fucking house!"
"I'm the only man here, ain't I?"
"Then I'm moving out!"
"No you're not! Don'tcha even think about it!"
"You gonna stop me?"
He lets out a dangerous rumble as you challenge him, his eyes narrowing, practically daring you to push him. "Try it and see what happens."
In your room you grab a duffel bag and cram some clothes and necessary items in there. Already Joel is storming into the hall, his boots loud against the wooden floor.
"You gotta be kiddin' me," he shakes his head.
"Told you I'm leaving. Don't know why you won't believe me."
"Where ya goin'? To that lil' drug dealer boyfriend of yours?" he sneers.
"So what if I am?"
"The hell you will. If you let him anywhere near you, I'm breakin' his damn legs."
His eyes go wide as you storm past him and head for the front door. His hand shoots out and grabs your arm before you can get too far. "Oh, no, ya don't," he growls, grabbing and jerking you back toward him. He grips your upper arm tightly as he spins you around to face him.
"Let me go!"
He scowls, keeping you in place in front of him. "No, I'm not lettin' you go, darlin'. Not until you quit bein' a brat and calm the hell down."
"Don't call me a brat!"
He grins at this. "Then stop actin' like one. You've been runnin' your mouth ever since I came here, and now you're makin' threats ya can't follow through on and bein' an uptight little bitch."
"Go to hell!" You spit at him, a glob of your saliva lands on his cheek and he wipes it off with his fingers, putting them them in his mouth to suck it off. You watch with mild disgust even as you're a little turned on.
"Oh, I should put you over my damn knee and tan that sassy little ass of yours until you behave yourself, darlin'."
You cross your arms. "You don't have the balls!"
A smirk crosses his face. "You can see for yourself, darlin'." He cups his crotch, drawing your eyes to him even though you don't want to.
"You really think I'm not gonna put ya over my knee and paddle that cute little ass 'til it's raw?"
"You wouldn't!"
A smirk creeps over his face at the uncertainty in your voice, his hand moves down to your hip, fingers digging in the flesh. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel your panties dampen.
"Nah, you're pussy's speakin' for ya. I can see it already, you soakin' up those lil' shorts of yours."
You're too turned on to risk speaking, struggling against him because it's the only way you can fight back, prove him wrong.
"There's no escape from daddy, darlin', You're stuck. And you're gonna be punished until ya behave yourself."
You growl, "You're not my fuckin' daddy!"
He grins at you, grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it brutally to force you to look up at him. "That's right. Your daddy's in prison, probably gettin' passed around like the little bitch he is. I'm your daddy, darlin', and don'tcha forget it. I'm the one protectin' you, takin' care of you, and now daddy's gonna put you in your place."
He jerks you towards the sofa, pulling you over his lap so your ass is squarely on his thighs, your top half pressed into the sofa cushions at an awkward angle, holding yourself up on your forearms so you can breathe, watching helplessly as he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, leaving your ass bare to him. He drops your clothes to the floor. The way your positioned he can also see your pussy lips, swollen with excitement.
One arm on your back holds you down, the other trails its fingertips across your smooth, supple skin, giving you goosebumps, causing your cunt to clench, much to your horror.
"You've been very naughty today, darlin', haven't you?" he prefaces your punishment, giving your ass a light swat to punctuate his words.
You're too stunned to move or speak.
He runs his large, rough hand over your ass, squeezing one of your cheeks as he looks down at you, his voice low and stern: "Answer me, baby girl. You know you're supposed to answer your daddy when he asks a question." He gives your ass a sharper smack, the sound of his hand on your flesh reverberating in the room, shameful to your ears.
You give a sharp gasp. "Yes! I was being naughty!"
"That's right. You were bein' a bad girl, a sassy little brat who keeps gettin' smart with daddy." He rubs his hand over your ass, then gives it a few little swats, each one harder than the last, building up a stinging heat on your flesh.
You squirm under each spanking, seeking friction for your aching clit.
"Stay. Still," he orders in a growl.
"Daddy, it aches," you whine, not talking about the spankings. There's a wetness growing between your thighs, glistening, catching Joel's attention like a raven sighting something shiny in the grass. He growls, his touch hovering over your folds, not yet ready to give in to your needs.
"I know it aches, baby girl. But it's supposed to. It's your punishment for being a naughty little brat." He doesn't allow himself to focus on it, his hand grabbing your thigh instead. "Open your legs wider," he commands when you try to squeeze them together to get some relief.
Your scent rouses him when you open your legs just a little. He forces them apart and slaps the insides of your thighs, his dick getting harder when you cry out from sensitivity.
"Does that hurt, baby girl?" his voice is mockingly gentle as he runs his calloused fingers over your inflamed skin. When you nod instead of giving a vocal answer he slaps another palm against your already-stinging skin. "Answer me," he warns.
"Y-yes.." you reply, trying like hell to close your legs, but he keeps you down, keeps them forced apart just enough. "Fuck.." you mutter, eyes closed as more of your desire drips out of you, running down your thighs to his jean-covered lap.
He feels your excitement, the warmth you give off, feels your slick dripping out of you like sap from a tree. He knows if he slides inside you right now you'd be hot, wet, accommodating his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever else he wants to put in your little fuckhole. But he has control. He waits you out.
"What was that?" he snaps, giving you another spank, slightly harder than before. "Did you just curse at me, baby girl? I don't think I'm gonna go easy on you if you're gonna keep usin' that filthy mouth for that kinda language."
The dark, damp spot you created on his jeans grows, as does his enjoyment. He's hard as a rock, wishing you were placed just so so that you can feel it. He imagines you rubbing your needy unclothed cunt across the crotch of his jeans, satisfying yourself on just his clothed cock.
"Are you enjoyin' your punishment?" He mocks you once again, lightly brushing his knuckles across your puffy, drooling pussy lips, smirking when you whimper and shiver, trying to lift your hips to his touch. "Shh.. you don't get to be greedy right now, sweetheart. This is daddy's time to teach you a lesson. You're gonna be a good girl and let me teach you that lesson, aren't you?"
"Yes, daddy," you whine. Your entire body is aflame with need, brimming over with desperation. You'll do anything he wants, suck his cock, take his dick in whichever hole he pleases, so long as your frustration is released, so long as you get to come.
"That's more like it," he praises, his hand moving across your sore buttocks, softly touching before landing another stinging slap. "Good girls listen to daddy, and good girls take their punishments without complainin' and cryin'. They just take it, like a good girl should."
The need for friction, your pussy left wanting and vulnerable, brings you to tears, despite his warning not to cry, "Wanna.. be good for daddy."
"I don't know if you can be good.. don't know if it's in your nature. Got a felon for a father and a whore for a mother. I think you're just plain bad.. might need to stay on my lap for a long time." He lands a slap, watching your ass jiggle with the force of it.
"Please," you whine.
"Aw, what's wrong, darlin'? You seem like somethin's botherin' you." Two more slaps, one on each ass cheek before he grabs one at a time, squeezing hard on the flesh, relishing the heat radiating from your skin, and spanking them again. "How's your ass feel, sweetheart? All warm and tender and sore?" He soothes you with his hand.
"Yes.. yes, sir."
He chuckles lowly. "Daddy likes it when you call him 'sir'. You get points for that, baby girl. Now answer my question."
Question..question.. Every time he speaks, his actions override it, but he did ask how you were feeling, if you were sore. "Yes. But I still ache.. inside."
His cock twitches in his jeans and he adjusts himself beneath you. "Still achin' inside, huh? Need some relief? Need daddy to help you out?"
"Yes, daddy." Your fingers grip the couch cushion.
He gives your hair another tug, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "What did I tell you just now about callin' me 'sir'?"
Your eyes meet his and you swallow, but your mouth refills with saliva. Your mouth is as wet as your cunt, hoping he'll fill one or the other. Preferably both. "Yes, sir, daddy.. please.. help me."
"You're so sweet when you ask so nicely, beggin' me to take care of you." He lets go of your hair, his hand caressing your lower back and ass in a gentle, soothing way.
"But I ain't gonna fuck ya. You're not my type."
What you get instead is another spanking, then another, and another, until your ass feels raw, until it's nearly numb, then Joel presses two fingers deep inside, cramming you with his thick digits. Gasping a shuddering breath, you push back on him, only for him to take them away, spreading your wetness on your backside.
"You're just like your mom.. needy as a feral cat. Can't ever get enough," he grumbles, giving you another smack before inserting his fingers again, spreading your thighs wide as he shoves them in and out, smiling when he hears your cries of pleasure, the way you squeeze around him as if to keep him there. If it was his dick in there he'd have cum already, you're so snug and wet around him.
He removes his fingers again when he feels you close to the edge and your frustrated groan brings a smile to his face.
"Please, daddy.. sir.. Joel.." Whatever he wants you to call him. "Please don't stop!"
"You're gonna have to be quiet or I'm gonna stick my whole hand in this lil' pussy, stretch it out so nothin' else will ever fit."
You're shivering, your body on edge for his touch, and the fucker knows it. And you know he'll make good on his threat. You force yourself to be quiet, only the smallest whimpers escaping your lips once his fingers slide into you again, this time adding a third finger, unable to help it when you moan, "Oh, god, daddy!"
This time he doesn't pull away, keeping his fingers in a steady thrust inside you, using his free hand to slap your ass, mixing the pleasure with the pain. He parts your thighs further, lifting your hips to smack your pussy, grinning when you jolt forward, crying out, not allowing you to close your legs when you get overstimulated, continuing to land slaps upon your sensitive flesh until you whimper another please, daddy.
He mutters something unintelligible, bringing his fingers back to your soaked cunt, your juices creating an even bigger stain on his jeans. Pumping his fingers in and out, he scratches that itch, finds that spongy tissue inside that drives every woman crazy, and he rubs against it, watching you writhe, listening to your ragged gasps and desperate pleas until you squirt, your fluid dousing his hand and his lap until you beg him to stop when you become oversensitive.
He could continue, he could give you more, go all night, but he doesn't have as much patience as he used to. Positioning himself behind your sprawled out figure on the sofa, he takes himself from his jeans and strokes his length urgently, spilling his cum on your still-quivering ass and your drenched cunt.
Satisfied, he smears his cum all over you with his dick while it's still half-hard.
"Ain't that pretty," he comments. "Now, you ain't tellin' your mama nothin', and we can come to some kind of agreement that benefits us both.. right, my good girl?"
Exhausted, empty, you nod. "Yes, daddy."
tag list 💕: @survivingandenduring @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @pedroswife69 @wannab-urs @lunamothgoth @inept-the-magnificent @karaslqve
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withahappyrefrain · 10 months ago
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Ruin the Friendship- Bob Floyd
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Warnings: Best friends to lovers trope, it’s so obvious they love each other they’re stupid, language, filth, some angst (why not?), unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), Bob being pussy drunk.
Summary: The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he's learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He's determined to fix that.
Words: 4.8K
This is for @attapullman's Bob Fucks celebration!
When you've been friends with someone since preschool, you get to know them like the back of your hand. Certain quirks and sayings that no longer surprise you. 
“God, I wish that were me.”
It wasn't the first time Bob heard you say that. Usually there was a cute dog around, or a sushi boat being delivered at a restaurant when you said it. 
But saying it during an oral sex scene in a movie was new. 
It also brought up many questions. 
Questions Bob shouldn't ask, considering he's known you since preschool. Questions Bob couldn't ask right now, because he was too preoccupied looking at you. 
Your eyes were fixated on the screen, focused on the actress withering. Occasionally, they would dart to the other actor who was between the actress’ thighs. Bob noticed the increased rise and fall of your chest, how your front teeth dug into your bottom lip, how when you lean forward, the v-line cut of your shirt showed off the tops of your breasts. The soft glow of the lamps highlighted the beautiful features on your face. 
All things he shouldn’t be noticing about his best friend. But then again, best friends shouldn’t be watching a French film together whose plot line focused on sexual liberation before he went off to Navy boot camp. 
Granted, you and Bob haven’t had a conventional best friend relationship in a while, if at all, considering both sets of parents claimed you two promised to marry each other at the age of four. 
Promises or not, best friends shouldn’t be one another’s first kiss. Or make out practice partners. Or each other’s New Year's kiss when y'all were single. Or spend Valentine's Day together at the local dinner. 
The line between friends and something more was blurry, saved by a comment that ensured the other to think that the feelings that had been brewing weren't reciprocated. 
“You’re a good kisser. Kelsey McCoy is going to think so too.”
“If Tommy Delaine doesn't like you, he's a dumbass.” 
“I’m sure next year you’ll have someone.”
“If I had to spend it with anyone, I want it to be with my best friend.”
“You’re an amazing friend, you know that?”
Why say that if you harbor romantic feelings? Surely, all those kisses and talk of marriage meant nothing to them. 
At least that's what the other thought. 
It's because of this blurry line that Bob doesn't bite his tongue, doesn't throw away the comment to be forgotten. Instead, he speaks up. 
“Been awhile?” 
And because it's Bob, the guy you've known your whole life, the guy you tell everything to, your response rolls off your tongue without a second thought. 
“Try never.” 
It takes Bob a moment to process your words as the way your lips wrap around the beer bottle is far too distracting. But just like processing a car accident, once it registers, your words bring his brain to a screeching halt. 
“Wait, never?” The shrug you give isn’t satisfactory. He grabs the remote to pause the movie, ignoring your cries of protest. 
“Real talk; are you saying that no one has ever gone down on you?” 
You sigh, regretting saying anything in the first place. One would think that after years of friendship, you’d know well enough that once Bob set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent until satisfied. 
You down the remnants of your beer, mentally preparing for this conversation. 
“No Robby. I've never had someone eat me out. Happy now?” Reaching for the remote was all in vain, as he just held it further away from you. 
Darn those long limbs. 
“But you've been with people…..so what did they do?” When you looked at him, there was no malice, just Bob looking genuinely baffled. His gentle blue eyes put you at ease, giving you the comfort to explain. 
“They would touch me,” you motioned to the lower half of your body, “And like finger me. Enough to get me ready, I guess.” 
Bob raised an eyebrow, “You guess?” 
College was supposed to be a time for you to explore, to figure yourself out, to interact with new people. 
And yet, when it came to the relationship aspect, everything had fizzled. You were now going into your junior year having yet to experience a meaningful romantic relationship. 
Did you just have shit luck? Or was it because your mind would wander back to a bespectacled best friend when you were in bed with someone else? 
“So instead of eating you out, which would actually be enjoyable on your end, you're telling me they just stuck their hand down there and hoped they were rubbing your clit? You didn't ever ask them to do something else?” 
Bob didn't have the pristine mouth that parents thought he possessed. You knew, and had known for a while. And yet, hearing him say the phrase your clit in his deep, slightly twangy voice felt different. 
You rubbed your thighs together. 
“Are you shaming the people I've been with or me?” 
Bob closed the difference between you and him on the couch, placing a hand on your bare knee. 
Have his hands always been so big and veiny? 
Fuck, did you have a thing for hands? 
“I'm not shaming you. I’m shaming the people you've been with because well,” he ran a hand up and down the back of his neck, “Well, I enjoy giving….I like doing it. So I guess I'm surprised other people don't?” 
His statement was shocking because everyone else you had been with viewed it as a chore, as something to use every excuse in the book to avoid doing. 
Too tired. Takes too long. Wet enough so what's the point? 
“You…like doing it?” 
The tops of his cheeks reddened, despite a smirk beginning to form, “Yeah. I like giving and I like making them feel good. It's also a confidence booster, being able to make someone fall apart with your mouth.” 
It shouldn't come as a surprise, it was Bob after all. The same Bob who always brought an extra pencil with him to algebra, in case you forgot yours. The same Bob who shared his Dunkaroos because your mom refused to buy them. The same Bob who made his dream of serving his country finally come true after years of hard work. 
He was selfless. But this didn't feel like selflessness. Hearing him talk about giving pleasure, making someone fall apart with his mouth, was different. Even his voice when he said it was different, raspier than usual. 
“Well,” you scooted closer to the edge of the couch, trying to widen the gap so he couldn't feel how hot your body was, “I can't wait ‘til I meet someone who feels the same way.” 
“You don't have to wait.” 
The grip on your beer bottle tightened, the alcohol getting caught in your throat. There's no way he could have just said that, no way he could be implying what you're thinking. 
But when you look at Bob, he was staring back with raised eyebrows and thin lips curled into a little smirk. The same look he’s given you countless times before when he mumbles a smartass comment only your ears were privy to hear. 
You heard me. 
“What-are you…” You stared at him, mouth agape. Bob appeared unphase by it, like he had just offered something totally normal and rational. 
Perhaps it was the three beers he had downed. Perhaps it was the rush of adrenaline kicking in after realizing this was his last chance at making a move before he left. 
“Wouldn't that be like crossing a line?” Your head was racing, alternating between flashbacks of when you kissed Bob and imagining what it would be like to have his mouth on your body. 
“Wouldn't be much different from what we’ve already done.” 
All the air was sucked out of the room by his comment. Because of course he wasn't doing this because he wanted to, because he wanted you. This would be meaningless, just like everything else. If you went through with this, you’d wake up the next day to Bob leaving with nothing changed, still in this seemingly endless limbo. 
Long, nimble fingers hooked themselves under your chin, gently forcing you to look up. 
The look he gave you was unfamiliar. His eyes remained focused on your face, though it seemed like they were searching. 
For what, you couldn't tell. 
After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. 
“Do you want it to be different?” 
What good was telling him if he didn’t feel the same way, thus ruining a great friendship?
“Do you want it to be different Robby?” You countered back. 
He leaned in, his breath hot on your face, “I asked you first.”
He thought he had the upper hand. But you were like a lightning bug, faster.  
“I asked you second, Robby.”
Like a rubber band, the tension snapped as Bob was unable to hold back a snort of laughter. The tension left your shoulders, the sight of him laughing familiar and safe. 
“I’m going to really miss your resounding maturity,” Bob deadpanned after gaining the ability to compose himself, though a sweet crooked smile remained. 
It was now your turn to roll your eyes, though it didn’t stop the smile currently forming on your face. Seeing this side of Bob was always fun; most folks thought he was quiet and meek. The truth was that he liked to observe and didn’t find value in speaking when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t hold back with you, didn’t feel the need to sit and observe. He truly conversed with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel special. 
He was never that way with the other girls he dated. 
“You love me,” you teased back. It was a comment you've said countless times, always with that sweet, albeit mischievous smile that made Bob's heart flutter. 
But this time instead of shaking his head or rolling his eyes, he leaned forward until your foreheads were touching. 
Seeing him up close took your breath away. You could see how his roots were beginning to darken, the blonde fading as he got older. The little scar on his chin from a BB Gun incident when he was ten. Eyes bluer than the ocean. The ends of his hair were beginning to curl, something you'd greatly miss when he'd get the military mandated buzz cut. 
“Yeah, I do.” There was no teasing in his voice. No mischief in his eyes. Instead of playfully shaking your shoulder, his hand found its way to the back of your neck, fingers cupping your warm skin. He was moving quickly, making you unable to truly process what he had just said. 
Despite it being new territory, he was handling it beautifully. You, on the other hand, were torn between wondering if your increased heart beat was medically concerning and how large Bob’s hands were. 
“You gotta….if you want to stop, tell me,” His breathing had increased, like it did when he had finished his part in the marching band. But this wasn’t marching band practice and y’all weren’t on the high school field. You were in your parents’ basement, with Bob’s lips quickly closing the gap between yours and his. 
It wasn’t your first time kissing Bob, but it might as well have been. Years of experience had given him more confidence. He knew where to put his hands now, one still on your neck to guide you, the other gripping the soft flesh of your hip. He didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across your bottom lip, successfully driving you wild. 
When the rounded tip of his nose brushed against yours, a soft laugh escaped your lips. Bob didn’t mind, using the chance to let his tongue explore your mouth. Your body leaned towards him, hands gripping the soft fabric of his old Warped Tour T-shirt. 
“I thought you,” your words were slurred, a weak moan interrupting your speech due to his lips moving down to your neck, “Thought you were gonna eat me out.” 
Bob’s moan vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His hands traveled to your breasts, gripping them through your T-shirt. It wasn't a hard squeeze, which is what you were used to. 
It was pleasurable. Bob was pleasurable. 
“Did none of the guys you were with do foreplay?” He asked, his hands continuing their ministrations. 
“I-fuck- yes they did, it just never took this long,” you grunted against his lips. 
“God, you have terrible taste in men.”
You wanted to let Bob know that he was now included in that group. But then his fingers hooked themselves around the band of your shorts, pulling them down. Had you known what tonight would entail, you would have opted for underwear that wasn't so worn. The long hairs on his arms tickled your sensitive skin as he moved to kneel on the floor, the cool basement air making you realize just how wet you were. 
How could he do that so quickly? 
He pinned your hips against the soft couch cushions. With anyone else, you would complain with how hard he was gripping your soft skin. But with Bob, you’d love it. It meant hand-shaped bruises that would stay after he left, reminding you of tonight. 
When his sharp nose nudged your clothed slit, a loud gasp erupted from your mouth. 
Thank god your parents were on vacation. 
His tongue was so wide as it stroked the quickly dampening fabric. How was he able to find your clit so quickly? Most struggled to find it even after your panties had been taken off. 
Bob couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing your strained whimpers. You were practically squirming, hips erratically jerking with every touch. 
“Wha-why did you stop?” You whined, looking down to find him staring up to you. 
“Are you-I just need to know, do you still want this?” God, he was so fucking considerate. In any other moment, you’d find it endearingly sweet. 
But if his tongue felt that good against your covered cunt, you were dying to feel it without the barrier. 
“Robby, I swear to god, if you don’t eat me out, I’m going upstairs and using my vibrator,” Your voice was strained, your knuckles turning white from gripping the couch cushions.  
He laughed.  Bob knew you were bluffing. He had just gotten started and you were already so wet. 
Slowly, he took his glasses off, placing them on the coffee table behind him, making a show of it. 
“Won’t need those. I’m nearsighted after all.”
“You little-” The insult remained unsaid, as Bob pushed your underwear to the side, his mouth instantly latching onto your swollen clit. 
His mouth was warm. The pressure wasn’t too much, just enough to make you wither in pleasure. It felt so good, so fucking good. When Bob looked up, he found your mouth open, despite no sounds coming out. 
Good. 
You deserved to know what it was like, to have someone care about your pleasure, to focus solely on making you feel incredible. 
God, he could feel his cock throbbed. You looked so pretty with your eyes glazed over, mouth agape as you watched him, completely enthralled. 
And he had just gotten started. 
He wanted to do more than make you come, he wanted to blow your mind. Call it selfish, but Bob wanted to ruin you for anyone else. He had always held back his tongue when it came to the people you dated, knowing sooner or later you'd realized they weren't worth your time. 
But now he had his chance and Bob sure as hell wasn't going to let it slip away. 
The loud sound of fabric ripping broke you out of the pleasure filled haze you were in. Before you could make a sound about your now ripped underwear, your knees were pinned to your chest, giving Bob complete access to your soaked core.
“So fucking sweet,” He groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations all through your body, “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” 
“Robby.” 
To say Bob dreamed of hearing you moan his name would be the understatement of the fucking century. 
Your whole body was on fire, unable to do anything else but take everything Bob was giving. 
A resounding moan fell from your lips as Bob thrusted two fingers inside you, your walls struggling to accommodate the unexpected stretch. 
Was he this thick elsewhere?
You wanted to find out. Wanted to feel it inside you, in your mouth. You shamelessly wanted it all. But you couldn’t even voice that because Bob was tracing figure eights on your clit, his fingers brushing against a spot you thought Cosmo had made up. 
Fuck, he was doing a number on you. His soft hair threaded through your fingers as you gripped the strands. Your hips involuntarily jerked upwards, desperate to get as much of Bob as possible. 
You kept expecting him to stop, considering you were wet enough for him to fuck you. That's what everyone else did. 
But Bob Floyd wasn't like everyone else. Far from it. 
He was fucking delighted to hear all the cute, strained noises coming from you as he continued.  Each time you tugged on his hair, a groan would fall from his lips. It was the prettiest sound you had ever heard. 
Why did either of you wait this long? 
You tried to communicate, to let him know you were close, tugging on his hair, trying to move away from his mouth. 
But Bob was deceivingly strong, using his free hand to pin your hip back to the couch, his mouth firmly on your pussy. 
When you looked down, you were in awe of how blissed Bob looked. His eyes were closed as his mouth remained latched to your clit. The sounds of your own wetness were obscene, but barely audible over the moans Bob was letting out. 
He really did enjoy it.
“Come. Wanna taste ya,” His voice was muffled as he added a third finger inside you. 
Worried thoughts of coming on his face left your brain as pleasure coursed through your veins. Without any warning, the band that had been tightening came undone.
Bob used both hands to hold your hips firmly in place, his tongue lapping up your release. 
You don't recall coming this hard or this long before. It wasn't a small wave, it felt like the whole damn ocean was taking you under. 
His fingers continued to stretch you open, prolonging your high. The Navy was the perfect fit for him, considering he could apparently hold his breath for an impressive amount of time. 
The soft fabric of the couch cushions brushed as the back of your head, your eyes half closed. You couldn't even voice an acknowledge when Bob’s mouth and fingers withdrew from your abused cunt. 
“You're so pretty when you come,” Bob murmured, his lips brushing against yours. 
Your hands tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. 
“M-my turn,” you whined, hips jerking up towards his. 
Bob shook his head, “Wanna be inside ya.” 
How was this the same guy who feared clowns as a kid? 
Before you could even question it, Bob had sat down on the couch, gripping your hips to help you straddle his lap. When had he taken off his jeans? How was he so quick- 
Jesus Christ, he was huge. 
“Fuck, she was right.” 
Bob looked up from where you two were about to connect, a very confused look on his face, “Excuse me?” 
“Betsey Thomas said you had a huge dick,” you confessed, wishing that you'd think before speaking for once. 
Bob’s brows knitted together in confusion, “Betsey Thomas has never seen my dick, the fuck are you talking about?” 
“Said she could tell you were packing because of the gym shorts you'd wear for PE class.” Bob signed, shaking his head as he muttered something about the required uniform. 
“I….we can unpack this later-” 
You snorted, “Why? Too busy packing here?” 
Your laughter was cut short by Bob rubbing his cock against your soaked cunt. Memories of high school escaped your brain, the only thing you could focus on now was Bob and his huge dick. 
Curious wasn't accurate. Frankly, you were desperate for him. Had been since middle school, if you were being truthful. 
“Woah, hey. Easy baby, easy,” his voice made your thighs clench, made you whine into his shoulder as you tried to line your aching hole with his cock. 
Finally, you felt him at your entrance. Slowly, he filled you up inch by inch. Every time you tried to urge him to go faster, Bob would simply shake his head before pressing a kiss against your cheek. 
“Don't want to hurt ya darlin’.” 
Darlin. You were his darlin. 
He made you feel so full, and you didn't even have it all inside of you yet. All you could do was cling to him as he whispered praises in your ears. 
Once you reached the base, it felt like you and Bob were the only ones in the world. At least, that’s what you pretended. It was better than thinking about how he would be gone for who knows how long after tonight. After boot camp was done, he would be off to train for the Navy. 
Even he didn't know when he would return home. 
It wasn't fair, finally expressing your feelings for one another just to be separated immediately after. You wanted him to stay, to go on dates with him, to visit him on the weekends when school started, just like everyone else in a long distance relationship. 
“Hey, what's wrong? Do you- we can stop if you want, it's okay.” Bob’s voice was soft, full of concern. 
His hand lifted your chin up from his shoulder, revealing your watery eyes. 
“I don't want you to go.” 
“I know,” his voice was barely a whisper, matching your volume. Long fingers gently traced over your face, as if he was trying to memorize them. 
“I know it's horrible timing, but we'll figure it out, okay? I want to figure it out with you, I promise,” He peppered your face with soft kisses, earning a small smile out of you. 
“But for now, can I make ya feel good? Because I'm willing to bet no guy has made you come while fucking ya.” 
Unlike in the past, where Bob’s smartass comments earned him a shove, you pressed your lips against his. 
“I'm gonna start moving now, okay?” Even though he warned you, nothing could have prepared you for how full Bob made you when his hips thrusted upwards. 
“You're-fuck- you feel so good, oh my God.” 
Your fingers tangled into Bob’s hair, trying to commit the feeling to memory. 
Bob was trying to do the same, his hands roaming over your body as he took in your scent. Maybe if he asked nicely, you'd let him take a bottle of your perfume with him. 
He was going to need it for the next few months. 
Your mouth clashed against his, tongue desperate to taste him. Wandering hands desperate to feel everything everywhere. 
“When-fuck- when I come back, wanna take you out. W-we can go to that Italian place by your school. The one where you have to wear a tie.” How Bob was able to talk coherently while fucking you was beyond comprehension. 
The Navy will be lucky to have his great ability to multitask. 
“Gonna bring ya flowers too. Sunflowers ‘cause they're-oh my god- you're favorite.” You didn't think you could recall your full name with the way Bob is thrusting into you, much less favorite things. 
Your walls clench around Bob’s thick cock, eliciting a desperate groan from him, rather than the instant ejaculation you were used to. 
“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna come,” Bob whined into the crook of your neck.
“That’s-shit- the point,” you grunted, your hips picking up speed. 
Bob shook his head, “Need you to come first.” 
Confusion caused you to still your hips, “Bob, I already-” 
“Don't finish that sentence, don't you dare,” Bob ended his command with a strong thrust that made you feel as if he was splitting you open on his cock. 
Your head dropped down to the crook of his neck. His skin was so warm and the smell of sage was nearly overwhelming. You knew exactly what body wash he had used, as it was the same one he wore ever since junior year, when you commented on how nice it was. 
In hindsight, it was painfully obvious. 
His lips found yours, capturing them in a desperate kiss. When you felt his fingers draw circles on your clit, you saw stars. 
You didn't know it could feel this good with someone. This was more than a quick fuck, as you actually felt cared for. It was intense, the sensitivity of your first orgasm still echoing every time the thick head of his cock brushed against your walls. 
It's audible how wet you are for Bob. He can feel it at the base of his cock, which makes him wonder what it would be like to have you on your knees, or better, your back, all spread out for him. 
“C’mon sweet girl,” he’s panting, voice desperate and raspy, “Wanna-fuck! Wanna feel you come s’bad, please, please baby.” 
Each circle drawn on your clit causes the band in your stomach to tighten. Combined with Bob’s words, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. 
“You're incredible, shit, I-fuck. All yours. Wanna be all yours. Fuck fuck fuck, clenching me so hard, fuck, don't stop.” Obscene was not a word many, if any, would use to describe Bob Floyd. 
Up until thirty minutes ago, you would have considered yourself part of that group. 
But now? Now you were falling apart on his cock. The rush of pleasure had hit like a brick, coursing through your veins. It hit harder than anything else, harder than the now banned alcohol caffeine combo drink, or any controlled substance doctors had prescribed to help you focus. 
His finger-fuck, usually you had to use two of your own- didn’t stop rubbing your clit, nor does he stop thrusting in and out of your pulsing cunt. It's almost as if-no, you know Bob’s enjoying making you feel euphoria. 
That's what blows your mind. His laser focus on your pleasure, rather than his own. Truthfully, he could have come already and you wouldn't have thought twice about it. 
But now it was all you could think about. How much he cared, how good he felt. How incredible it was for him to pull your hips flushed against his, filling you to the brim with his cock. 
“Holy shit you're so tight-I, sh-should I pull out?” 
Instead of answering, you used all your strength to rock your hips against him. Considering he made you come twice, the least you could do was help him find his release. 
Your fingers gripped his hair, tugging on the strands as your mouth clashed against his. 
The downright guttural groan he releases against your mouth has you clamping down on his cock. The motion finally leads to Bob’s undoing, causing him to come deep inside you, warmth flooding your body. 
His arms are wrapped around your body, clinging onto you as if he thinks you'll disappear if he lets go. 
You’d be a damn fool to. 
The basement is now quiet, apart from the heavy breathing coming from both you and Bob. 
After several minutes pass by, you gather the courage to break the silence, “Did you mean all that? Taking me out on a date and being mine?” 
Bob’s cheek burned a bright red as he timidly nodded his head, “I….yeah. I didn't mean to say it when we were, you know. I'm sorry.” 
You pressed a reassuring kiss to his warm cheek, “Robby, what do you feel the need to apologize for?” 
He looked up to you, those earnest blue eyes sparkling, “Shit timing?” 
“You're not wrong about that, but like you said earlier, I want to work it out with you.” Your words brought comfort, giving Bob the confidence to place a sweet kiss right on your lips. His smile was burning into yours, causing your stomach to flutter. 
“I know it's not that Italian restaurant, but can I take you out to breakfast tomorrow?” 
The local diner had been a go-to since y'all were thirteen. But this time would be different. This time you wouldn't feel the urge to look away when he caught you staring. This time neither one would correct the waitress when she'd make a comment about y'all being a cute couple. 
The soft call of your name pulled you out of your thoughts. 
“Uh can I….eat you out again? Tomorrow obviously! Like before we go to the diner?” 
Good Lord this man was going to be the death of you.
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@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @attapullman @ryebecca @sio-ina-bottle @rhettabbotts @callsignspark @roosterforme @lewmagoo @hangmanapologist @justabovewater20 @theharddeck @cumholland @bobfloydsbabe @sometimesanalice @heartfairy @auroralightsthesky
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awxcoffeexno · 3 months ago
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giving him a reason
logan howlett x human!reader
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fic masterlist
summary: you've been on the run from the yakuza and are taking refuge in an old, forgotten family home. logan's been protecting you this whole while because that's just who logan is.
content: i've lifted the setting straight from the wolverine (2013). reader is taking mariko's place--reader is mariko, mariko is reader (no names are taken tho). lovemaking ensues. this fic is super tender and gentle because bitches need to remember how tender and gentle logan really is (i'm bitches). this is porn with no plot lolol. f!reader.
warnings: extremely 18+ content. MDNI. i'll kill u if you do. tender love making, logan goes down on reader like a champ, piv, reader is a virgin but logan's vvvvvvvvv gentle and caring, there's hardly any talking but there is proper consent taking, logan just wants to take care of reader, all is good in the world (at least for now), and logan's lost his healing powers so several mentions of him having bullet wounds.
word count: 3k (oops? might've gotten a teeny tiny bit carried away)
a/n: back at it again, but publishing my first nsfw fic, praying y'all don't hate me. if you don't like this, istg the nsfw version of claw worship is NEVER seeing light of day.
you hear him groan behind the door and the sound makes your heart catch.
you and logan have been on your feet all day, save for the train ride to the small village in nagasaki you've finally reached. running from the yakuza had decidedly not been your plan for the day after your grandfather's funeral but what choice did you have in coming here really?
not to mention... logan saved your life yesterday. several times. he was shot seven times per what the doctor told you.
and he is not healing. your grandfather told you that kuzuri had exceptional healing powers. he'd told you this several times. but logan is not healing at all and it makes you tic. he'd told you that this was the doing of your grandfather's doctor. you cannot imagine the agony he must be in.
you've never done well with seeing or hearing people in pain. yukio always suspected you had some type of emotionally perceptive powers but you don't think so. you just have an inherent need to help and that's that.
carefully, hopefully noiselessly, you slide the door to the bedroom open and though he has his back to the door, his neck is already craning towards you. apparently whatever that doctor lady did to take his healing powers did not dull his hearing.
he's standing shirtless, feet shoulder width apart to keep his balance, skin glistening from a sheen of sweat.
"may i see?" you ask and he takes a long, deep breath.
you stand in silence, at first waiting for him to decide and then watching him turn around, bloodied black shirt in hand and an uneasy vulnerability in his eyes.
his stitches look mostly in place apart from the ones on the wound on his abdomen that have started to bleed. you pad over and reach a steady hand out to touch gingerly around the wound.
logan's jaw tightens but he lets you examine him, his breath warm on your face.
he's burning hot and it would be startling but he'd explained yesterday that it's normal for him. his fever had started when he was 9 and it never broke. so you ignore the unnatural temperature of his skin and step away to find him a cloth and some hot water to clean himself with.
when you return, however, he has clearly already showered and is trying to tie a dark kimono on. you have no idea where he found it and his efforts on keeping it in place force you to bite back a smile.
"let me." you offer, putting the contents of your hand aside to help him.
he immediately pulls his hands away in defeat and you find yourself barely an inch away from him yet again. his breath on you makes your toes curl this time. there's something different about his stance, something... more inviting.
"you need this tied like a proper samurai," you explain as you work on the obi.
there's a moment of silence, the pitter pattering of the rain comforting in the silence. he's thinking, you realise.
"your grandfather called me a ronin." his voice is low. tentative. "a samurai without a master. he said i was destined to live forever... with no reason to live."
that's probably the most you've heard him speak.
you swallow thickly. "was he right?"
"yes," he says, voice laced with such melancholy, it makes you ache.
he has taken seven bullets for you knowing he isn't healing. dodged perhaps a hundred more whilst protecting you.
you remember how he'd stood directly in an open doorway in front of a gun-wielding yakuza man to distract him so that you could run. you'll never forget the sound of those bullets hitting his metal skeleton. like nails on a chalkboard.
he'd put his life on the line for you over and over and over again.
aren't you reason enough then? haven't you become reason enough? after everything you've both been through? together?
you muster up all the courage you can and stuff it into one word. "still?"
your eyes dart up to his for a flash before coming back down to finish up. you pull your hands away but... but after the two dreadfully long days that you both have spent together... after seeing him fight to so furiously to keep you safe the way he did... after everything, you simply cannot bear the thought of stepping back.
neither can he apparently because one of his large, warm paws comes up and cups your cheek, ever so slowly pulling you into a kiss.
something about you has been haunting him since he first looked into your eyes three days ago at your family home in the suburbs of tokyo. especially after you, like a goddamned fool, tried to jump off the roof. he cannot pretend to understand why he's been so taken with you but he knows if he hadn't stopped you from jumping that day, another part of him would've died.
he supposes it's something about the saddest eyes on some of the most beautiful women ever that draw him to them. first kayla, then jean, and now... you. and that's only in the last half-century.
so he kisses you, warm and gentle and desperate to comfort. he kisses you like that until you mewl into his mouth, soft and needy. and then his own need shifts.
still careful to be gentle, his hands slip into your hair to hold the back of your neck to angle you better for himself. he's a tall man and leaning too far down is causing him pain he isn't very used to.
you feel so small in his hold, his hand wrapped around the entirety of the back of your neck, fingers resting under your ears, soothing your tingling skin.
pulling away a little, you run a thumb across his cheek. a small, very small smile spreads across his lips.
"hey." he says, voice low and soft, making you blush.
this should feel wrong. he's the kuzuri your grandfather told you bedtime stories about. the kuzuri whose bravery and determination gave you the strength to also face your nightmares as a little girl. you shouldn't be doing this.
but maybe that's why it feels right. you feel safe around him. truly and wholly safe; something not harada or even your own father has ever made you feel. you've known this kuzuri your whole life and you know he'll protect you.
you don't even bother thinking about how you're engaged to noburo. no, you've heard enough whispers about him sleeping with other women after your engagement to him. it doesn't faze you in the slightest.
so you kiss him again, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his smile. you feel one of his hands run down your back, coming to a stop right atop the bow of your obi, sending a shiver of thrill down your spine.
you've never felt this excitement before. you and harada had never gotten this far and noburo... well, something about his predator like advances made you want to throw up, so you never even let him this close.
but here you are, in the arms of kuzuri, a literal predator, and you feel... warm. nice.
he looks at you, brows dipping in an ask for consent. when you nod, sucking your lip between your teeth, he yanks the obi open and gently slips your kimono off one shoulder.
your soft, smooth skin makes him bite back a primal growl. he'd hate to scare you off, but standing here in front of him in the glow of the moonlight, you look so edible.
leaning in, making your tummy do a backflip, he presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to your shoulder. it makes you squeak and hold onto him tighter lest your knees betray you.
"logan!" you whisper with a gasp, feeling his teeth sink in and your feet leave the ground as he scoops you into his arms and takes you to the mattress in the middle of the room.
carefully, he kneels onto the floor and sets you down, his movement so light and tender it makes your heart ache.
pressing another kiss to your throat and then your mouth, he moves to place himself onto the mattress, between your legs.
you look at him with such big doe eyes, he cannot help but bring your hands together and press a soft kiss in the middle of your palms.
he then moves to undo your kimono like a wrapped present and take you in fully.
you're beautiful. the moonlight makes you shine, so perfectly womanly and delicate in his gaze.
reverently, he bends forward, right hand wrapping around your left thigh and pulling your legs apart so he can finally claim you with his mouth. his wounds ache for relief, the position actual torture but he barely even notices, so taken he is by your presence.
you push a lithe hand into his hair when you first feel his tongue, tugging as your hips arch up and you cry out his name.
"logan, god–"
he smiles into your mound, not having expected such a reaction this quick, but it only makes sense. you've both been so wound up after everything, you obviously need this.
"i know, princess," he coos as he licks a stripe across your leaking pussy all the way up to your clit.
he brings his lips around the little bundle of nerves and sucks experimentally and he's forced to hold your hips down when you moan out loud again. he was not expecting you to be loud in bed but he sees absolutely no reason to complain.
his tongue works on you expertly, undoing you with every lick and stroke and bite and suck. his fingers squeeze into your sides painfully hard, so badly wanting to mark you as his. he runs his hands down to your thighs and gently pulls them around his neck, sitting up to relieve the pain in his wounds, pulling you up with him.
"lo–"
"i've got you, you're okay," he reassures immediately, making your tummy flip again. he's so so so gentle and it kills you to have seen him as nothing but a brute until you reached the village.
his mouth continues to perform its delicious hot magic on your nerves as your eyes roll back in your head and you unconsciously reach up for one of your bared breasts. he freezes when he notices your movement, distracted like a cat having heard a mouse scampering across a field.
your eyes fly open to finding him watching your movements with a dark and hungry lust.
"don't stop," he urges and though his voice is strained, it isn't unkind. if anything, it almost sounds pleading.
how can you possibly deny him that? especially when he says it in that voice, looking at you with that expression.
so you continue, cupping a handful of your breast and squeezing gently, making yourself moan. he groans into your heat and buries his mouth back against your pussy, eyes never leaving your hands.
he continues his good work, watching you like a hawk as you knead your breasts, biting your lip. carefully, you circle your finger around one nipple as he sucks on your clit again.
you lose yourself to it, the rhythm of playing with yourself, the beautiful way it harmonises with his mouth, it's all so delicious. just like that, you feel yourself winding up, up, up...
"c'mon, princess," he encourages, "let go for me."
and you fall. fast and slow, all at once, right over the edge. you fall and fall and fall, and he continues to do the wicked thing with his tongue around your clit, lapping at your pussy and you give your everything to him.
he works you through it, moaning your name softly, his hands bruising your thighs until you slump in his hold. gently pulling your legs off his shoulders, he sets you down and crawls over you.
his hands come to rest on either side of your head and the warmth is so inviting, the scent of tobacco and his earthy musk filling your senses.
"can you give me another, angel?" he asks, kissing you right on the mouth so that you can taste yourself on his tongue; heaven, the mix of his need and your release tastes like heaven.
you shake your head no, too overstimulated but he's already working his way down to your breasts, leaving wet, hot kisses in his wake. and when he gets to one nipple and sucks it into his mouth with a soft groan, it sparks the fire right back up in your core.
"watching you play with yourself..." he murmurs, trailing off as he licks a flat stripe up the valley of your breasts before looking up at you.
the look in his eyes and his unrelenting mouth make you whine. "logan... need you."
that makes him smirk. how quickly he's worked you out.
"yeah? don't worry, babygirl," and he's spreading your legs apart again, "i'll take care of you."
he pulls the kimono off himself so quickly, you suspect it might have something to do with the claws that retract into his hand. you didn't even realise when he took them out.
he's... glorious. every muscle in his body is taut and stretched across his body like a work of art. his tan skin is dusted with hair so fine it makes your mouth water.
your eyes cross his pecs, his wounds, his bruises, lower and lower until... fuck. he's... big. big and so red, surely it must be painful.
he brings a hand up to your face and you think he's going to cover your mouth but he simply says, "lick."
you oblige shyly, savouring the salt of his skin. he pulls it away, spitting and then wrapping his surprisingly long and thick fingers around his cock. he runs it up and down the length, watching you with such intensity, it makes you blush as he positions himself in front of your opening and you bite your lip, looking up as he crowds you again.
you feel him push into you and within seconds, he's already stretching you open so wide it makes you grab the pillow behind your head in desperation.
he stills, gauging you. he knows this feeling. he's felt it in other women before; the squeezing of walls so tight there could only be one explanation. you're a virgin. shit, he needs to be careful.
rubbing your thighs with both hands, he gently and carefully pushes in just a little bit more.
"never done this before?" he asks, leaning down to press the softest kiss to your lips.
of course he's right. you have no idea how he knows but it makes you redden that he's caught onto your inexperience. are you making it that obvious? oh god, are you not making this good for him?!
immediately noticing your agitation, he pulls all the way out and kisses you again.
"easy... easy," he says, stroking your hair away from your face. "just gotta relax."
his voice is so even, so warm and soothing, that you cannot help but nod.
"good girl," he smiles encouragingly, once again positioning himself at your entrance.
he pushes in again and this time it's easier. you aren't quite so wound up and he slides in smoother because he's already made you adequately wet. still, he goes slowly, making sure it is good for you.
until you realise he's going too slow.
"lo–" you gasp, voice more a squeak than you'd like. "more– need more, please..."
around anyone else you'd feel pathetic. begging for something so filthy, so raw. but with logan, it's so comfortable. knowing he'll give you anything you ask for, even if you've known each other only half a week.
so he pushes himself completely into you, and he's so fucking big, so fucking much inside you as he whispers words of encouragement into your ears, kissing and biting at your neck. the ache of the stretching almost immediately gives way to a sharp pleasure that shoots through you straight from his tip and into every last nerve in your body.
it makes you wrap both hands around him, needing so desperately to be as close to him as possible.
you initiate the kiss this time as he starts moving in you. you slip your tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his, making him groan. the sound is so delicious, you roll your hips to cause it again. his hands grasp your waist, steading you, moaning your name around your tongue.
one of his hands comes up to grab the back of your neck again, taking charge of the kiss as he starts thrusting into you with more vigour.
you cannot imagine a better feeling than being right here. being held by him, being kissed by him, and being filled by him.
tentatively, you squeeze around him, realising you're reaching another orgasm quickly. he growls into your mouth at that, picking up further speed. it makes your hips buck and you're skin feel like it's on fire.
"logan, i'm... i'm..."
"me too, angel," he grunts.
and with one final thrust he presses all the way intp you, making you cry out as you come undone again. he snarls your name, a man possessed, the squeezing and fluttering of your walls pushing him over his own edge.
he fills you up, forehead coming down to rest against yours. he pants softly, never having felt tired like this before. but he realises... he doesnt mind it so much, not when he's tired because he got to make love to you.
you kiss him sweetly, breaking him out of his thoughts and he smiles at you.
"so beautiful," he murmurs, pulling out of you and lying down next to you.
he tugs you onto his chest and presses a kiss into your hair.
"logan?" you say, so spent your eyes are already drooping.
"hmm?"
"still?" you say and he realises you're repeating his question from earlier.
he hugs you tightly at that, wrapping his arms around you, warm and possessive.
"no. i don't think so."
--
wrote this at 6 in the morning before work so if there's errors, it's not my fault :))))
ik everyone hates the 2013 movie but i rewatched it recently and i remembered every last line. fuck me it's soooooo good.
really hope u like it tho.
love, d <3
--
retroactively tagging @techwrecker for being a cutie in the comments in all my other fics 🙂‍↔️
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dwaekkicidal · 2 months ago
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"Heats" with Puppy!Seungmin
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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Day 4 of my Bboki-Dwae collab with @bbokicidal <3
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~800
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, lots of marking (bites+hickeys), spanking, rough sex mentions, light(?) manhandling, breeding, some cumplay, like 1 overstim mention, i mightve missed one
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: wish i could have made this longer but i've been so busy :((
DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!
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❥ Jealous. Jealous. Jealous. J e a l o u s.
❥ These mating season fits tend to get him very aggressive and standoffish. To everyone.
❥ One simple glance at you from any person in the vicinity will send him into a fit of rage. But, thankfully for you, he doesn’t act on this in public! That’s saved for the bedroom, where you’re held down in his favorite position- downward doggy, for hours at a time.
❥ Does not care about any excuses anybody has to give. The second he notices that somebody is too close to you or even “looking at you for too long”, you’re getting dragged home to be shown your place
❥ Expect to be absolutely covered in bite marks and hickeys, ones that he “tries” to keep in spots where they won’t be seen. But, let's be real... We all know he gets a hard-on and a huge ego boost when they’re in obvious places and you just so happen to be out in public
❥ Looooves to leave deep bite marks on your neck and shoulders (some may or may not even have little holes from where his sharp canines dig into your skin hehe)
❥ He loses his mind when he sees these marks on your tummy and thighs from the prior night, him having completely forgotten that he even left them. Obviously, nobody will see them. But knowing that you’re fully marked up in the “most important” areas will get him instantly ready to go again
❥ Usually will be very apologetic about the bites that have wounds from his teeth but, if he’s particularly aggravated, he will start doing it on purpose.
❥ He gets real mean when he’s like that; a deep frown on his face and a low growl bubbling up in his throat as he pins you to the bed and berates you over things you had no control over. You both know that, but that won’t stop him from using it to fuck you nice and rough. And it surely won’t stop you from enjoying each and every time his hips slam into yours.
❥ Has such an obnoxious knot!!!!! You can’t tell if it’s all in your head, but when he’s extra cranky and giving in to his instincts to breed you, his knot feels like it's double the size.
❥ And he’s always so mean about it :( he’s a little shit and likes to tug his hips away from yours right after his knot fully expands, testing the limits of how far it will actually plug you (spoiler: it does not come out)
❥ If he’s rather eager, his knot can last up to half an hour. Which, may or may not be to your demise, usually ends in him reaching over into your nightstand, grabbing his favorite toy so he can overstimulate you out of boredom while you cockwarm him <3
❥ Breeds you until your stomach hurts from the number of times he’s came deep inside <3 Tells you that it better take or else he’ll just have to fuck you over and over and over again, which leads to you drooling from overstimulation and dripping cum all over the sheets
❥ Surprisingly he’s not one to get upset about you “wasting” his seed. In fact, it’s the only mess that he actually likes.
❥ To the point where he will pull out after knotting you just to sit there, tapping his dick on your messy folds with a big dopey smile on his face
❥ Absolutely loves the wet plap noises your cunt makes when he slaps his cock against you. So much so that it’s subconscious as he keeps himself occupied during downtime, usually the few minutes you get between rounds before he’s re-entering you, ready to breed you again and again.
❥ Is big on wrapping a hand around your neck, be it on your nape or on the front of your neck, and holding you down. It lets him force you to take everything he has to give while limiting how much you wiggle around
❥ Pairs this with stinging slaps to your ass cheeks, and a comment about how you’re his and how nobody else will ever have you like this, in order to get your pretty pussy even wetter around him
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“I should fuck a litter into you. Then maybe people will stop fucking looking at what’s mine.”
“You’re gonna be such a hot mother for my pups. Shit- Gonna keep you nice and full of my offspring.”
“Stop fucking moving, I need to mark you.”
“Take this fucking knot, puppy. Yeah? Fuck yeah~”
“Such a pretty pussy. All nice n’ messy from my cum.” As he rubs his tip through your folds, sometimes poking your clit to watch you shake ><
“I have to keep us entertained until my knot goes down, so you’ll let me play with you a bit- right, Jagi?”
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Taglist:
@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08
@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy
@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz
@mariteez
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nerdy-novelist017 · 3 months ago
Note
omg i love ur writing sm✨🩷💋
do u think u could write sumthin like benny coming home to finding u snuggled up on the couch in one of his huge shirts?????
Thank you for this super sweet request, Anon! Sorry I've been taking forever to get around to the requests, but I'm trying to get back into the routine of working on them a little bit every day. Hope you enjoy!
Benny x Bunny Masterlist
Word Count- 1.1k+
T-Shirts (Benny Cross x Shy! Reader)
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Benny cursed under his breath as he stumbled over the threshold of the front door. He’d been out with the Vandals, not an actual meeting, just a night out with a few of the main members. He’d invited you as he always did, but you declined. You had told him that you wanted to have some alone time after a long day at work. He understood – girls needed their ‘me time’ to pamper themselves or whatever, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to miss you. You were sometimes all consuming to him, his thoughts almost always ran back to you. Johnny and the boys could see it, anyone that really knew Benny (few as they were) knew he was completely infatuated with you. He was drunk off your touch, your voice, your smile. How could he be separated from you for long? So as the night progressed and he accepted more whiskeys being slid in his direction, his thoughts of you became more hazy, more melancholic and finally Johnny took pity on him and told him to go home. 
The slight buzz from the beers he had early did not mix well with the lack of lights. Usually, you left on the front porch light for him when you knew he would be out late and you were going to bed early. But it wasn’t the case tonight he realized as all the lights in the main level of your house were turned off. As he tossed his bike keys onto the entryway table and flipped on a light, he wondered briefly in his intoxicated mind if you were upset with him and this was your passive aggressive way of punishing him for staying out late, but that theory quickly diminished when he caught sight of the couch. At first glance, it looked like just a pile of throw blankets, but he was convinced he could spot your familiar form no matter how much light there was in the room. 
He slipped out of his boots and jacket, standing there for a moment longer in appreciation. A lovestruck smile overtook his face at the view of you curled into your side, that yellow blanket with white flowers (one you had begged him to buy when you first moved in together, stating that it was the perfect piece to pull the room together. He honestly couldn’t have cared less about the living room or its decor, but the smile on your face when he put it in the shopping cart made it suddenly the most important detail.) pulled over your body, a forgotten book laying face down on your chest – a clear indication that you had once again fallen asleep while reading. Your mouth slightly agape, your features looked so soft and girlish that it took Benny’s breath away knowing you were his. Even though he saw some incredible sunrises, sunsets and starry nights when he went riding, you were without a doubt the most beautiful sight he got to come home to. 
Unable to restrain himself any longer, he crossed the room, stooping to trace a hand across your face, brushing the tousled hair from your eyes. With his other hand, he looped his fingers through the spine of your novel, making sure to save your page mark as he placed it on the coffee table. His left hand moved beneath your knees and his right supported your back as he effortlessly lifted you into his embrace. That’s when he realized you were wearing one of his shirts, the white material clearly oversized on your small figure. He didn’t know a simple white t-shirt had the ability to be sexy, but clearly he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was because you had the talent to make just about anything look painfully arousing on you. And nothing at all. And to make matters even harder for Benny, he knew it wasn't your intention when you put on his shirt to look sexy, you probably weren’t even aware of the effects of your body in that damn oversized t-shirt and the way it clung to your chest as he lifted you, nor the way it molded around your hips. You were certainly not aware of the sudden twitch in his pants because of the way the garment just seemed to make you look even more of the little bunny that stole his heart. 
“Benny?” your muffled, half asleep voice hit his ears like the sweetest melody as you snuggled into his chest. 
“Stealin’ my clothes, Bunny?” he teased and you sunk further into his embrace, not quite awake enough to catch his playfulness. He carried you up to your bedroom, using his foot to kick the door shut behind him. He placed you gently on your side of the bed and almost laughed as you tugged him back down to you for a messy kiss. 
“I like the way it smells like you,” you admitted as you rubbed your eyes, the action pulling on Benny’s heartstrings. 
“You may have to keep it. Looks better on you,” he smiled as he stepped back to change into something more comfortable. 
“Whatever you say, Cross.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your words slurring together. “I tried waitin’ up for you. Did ‘ya have a good time?”
“Go back to sleep, Bunny,” he coaxed gently, smiling as your blinks were growing longer by the second. That was always something you wanted to do: you liked to lay in bed and talk about your days if they happened to be spent apart. You encouraged him to talk more than he’s ever talked in his life. Sometimes he felt as though your chattiness was rubbing off on him, but you never interrupted nor discouraged him from expressing his thoughts. He loved you more for that. “There’s plenty of time to talk about it tomorrow.”
“M’kay, come lay with me?” you asked and Benny scoffed because was that even a request you needed to make? He was drawn to you like a moth to flame, he couldn’t resist having a hand on you while he slept. It was like some instinctual urge projecting him to keep you near, to keep you safe, even while he was floating in the realm of sleep. 
He shook his head as you muttered a final incoherent sentence into the side of your pillow, eyes falling shut again. He crawled into bed behind you, slipping his hand around your waist and pulling you flush against his body as he pulled the blankets over the two of you. A soft, content sigh escaped you, and Benny looped his hand into yours, pulling it up to his lips in a soft kiss as he whispered “I love you, Bunny.”
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abookloverlmao · 27 days ago
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THE GIRL IN THE SOCKS ON THE ROOF - JJ Maybank (part II)
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Summary: You're in the wind, I'm in the water, Nobody's son, nobody's daughter. Y/N was nobody's daughter, hell she was uninterested in returning home after going missing with the Pogues. Wanting to go back to his arms- her will to live.
part 1: it took me a while! sorry y'all but here you have it<3
Warning: female!reader, triggering themes (mental health struggles, including references to self-harm, abusive dad, daddy issues, alcohol, drug, weed, swearing, angst, argument, shitty nicknames, bullying? etc. this will angsty as shit and fluffy, do not read if you don't want to! you have been warned, let me know what you think!
☆☆☆
If anyone dared to touch his Y/N, JJ will fucking murder them.
When Y/N and Kiara were unexpectedly kidnapped, an overwhelming fury consumed JJ. The thought of Y/N in danger fueled his hatred, and his temper flared as he grappled with the worry that gripped his heart.
Y/N had been by JJ's side through thick and thin, she not only inspired him in creating Poguelandia's flag but also joined him on hunting trips, despite her aversion to the idea of taking lives. 
"This is the ultimate dream, baby. Who needs rescuing from paradise?" JJ scoffed as he secured the rope, glancing at Y/N, who gazed at him with an adoring smile.
"No passports, just living the dream, surf trip, right?" she said, her eyes in the shape of hearts, tanned JJ was something, golden curls, his eyes more blue. The sight of her looking at him that way caused JJ's heart to race, so he averted his gaze, trying to regain composure.
"Ready?" he finally asked, his voice slightly husky, causing Y/N to clear her throat and stand, extending her hand towards him, "yes sir," she replied pulling him up before making her way towards the ocean, spear in hand.
"All right remember, watch your shadow, they see that, they're gone," he warned her as soon as their feet were on the water earning a nod from her and a gulp.
"Just like we practiced, Y/N," she nodded and held the spear with both hands, eyes studying the water for any fish, JJ tried not to stare, her tanned skin, her flushed cheeks thanks to the sun, how her exposed back muscles moved, her shorts soaked and she wore only sports bras, her shirt long forgotten.
"There's a skate, I can't- I really can't-" she cringed at the thought of stabbing the spear through the poor animal so he took action, "dang it! I missed it," he spun around hurriedly in search of the fish but the girl moved without a thought.
stabbing the spear while looking away, she caught it surprisingly, "you did it!" he exclaimed pulling her into a hug between laughs, "that's food in our bellies right there!"
and when Kiara dared him to jump off a mountain onto the sea, she was worried, "JJ don't, what if you drown like last time?" Y/N asked grabbing his wrist, still afraid about the last time when he got hit by the blunt of a machete and fell off the boat.
JJ paused, his excitement fading a little as he saw the genuine fear in her eyes, he understood her concern, the lingering trauma that had affected them both. 
Gently, he reached out and clasped her hand, offering a reassuring smile.
"Y/N, I know it's scary to think about what happened, but I've taken precautions this time. I've learned from my mistakes, it's just a dare," he assured her, his voice filled with determination, "I won't let anything happen to me. Trust me."
Y/N's grip on his wrist tightened, her worry mingling with a flicker of trust, she knew that JJ will never do such a thing to scare her, but she also knew that this boy was stubborn as fuck.
With a mix of apprehension and faith, she nodded reluctantly.
☆☆☆
Apparently, there was a history between Rafe Cameron and Y/N L/N, both were said to be caught in the corner of a party once, Rafe Cameron towering over her and her leaning back against the wall.
Saving Portis's life was a horrible idea, really, it was, Kiara got the idea and Y/N hated the thought of leaving her behind even if the girl sometimes can be a little mean.
JJ watched as Y/N raced between people on the bridge and slid down to hide under a boat with Kiara, their boots came in handy as the girls kicked the man in the face crawling out of their hiding spot.
A man got her arms and held them secure while another grabbed Kiara, she looked around in desperate search of JJ, the familiar blonde hair not once seen, nothing.
She sat on the back of the car in terror looking around for any of the Pogues, eyes focused on the ocean, under the bridge, nothing, she slumped back down and kept herself from attacking Portis in a fit of fury.
"We saved your life! That's what we get?" she snapped, her tone laced with righteous anger and disbelief, her entire body trembled with a mix of adrenaline and frustration, and her eyes locked onto Portis, daring him to respond.
"I'll try to help you, just do as they tell you," Portis said looking at her eyes, wildfire clear in them, "I will make you pay for this," she dropped back to sit beside a soaked Kiara, her grip on the girl tightened, her arm wrapping protectively around the trembling girl. 
She pulled Kiara closer, seeking solace in their shared strength. Their eyes remained fixed on the guards before them, sharp and piercing like daggers.
Pogue girls.
they were locked in a random mansion with guards surrounding them left and right, the windows locked, everything secure and made sure they don't escape, the closet was open revealing red silk dresses and a note "PICK YOUR SIZE" not even some pants or shirt, just fucking dresses.
The warm shower after a month of staying on an island felt amazing though, both the girls stayed each in there for a damn hour, Y/N overthinking of a way out and Kiara doing the same, sighing as the water ran down her back.
The dress was perfect however, and the girls looked like absolute angels, the red that reminded them of rich wine only kooks drank with their tanned skin absolutely perfect.
And seeing Rafe Cameron didn't make her feel any better, "you! I knew you and your father were behind this shit," she spoke storming towards the boy that is rumored to be talking to her- well was.
Rafe glared at her and took a step forward towards her, "What are you talking about? You trying to weasel in on my deal is that what's going on?" he asked pointing at himself, she scrunched her nose at him, hair still damp, "what? Are you hearing yourself? I think you became even more loco with the buzz cut-"
someone cut her off, a man with an accent, presenting himself as Carlos Singh, he apologized to the girls about the rough tactics in bringing them here and it made her raise an eyebrow, Kiara was studying the man up and down suspiciously.
She eyed Rafe and moved with Kiara behind Carlos taking a seat on the couch far from him, so this man talked about El Dorado for about an hour and she found herself getting annoyed every second especially when he pointed out that the three of them would find this island or whatever.
"I didn't listen to a word you just said, how much are you gonna keep philosophizing?" Y/N found herself agreeing with Rafe on something for once.
"you girls have a manuscript, a diary," she froze once Carlos's eyes landed on the girls, and she could feel the curly-haired girl by her side tense, "this is ridiculous, we don't have any diary," she spoke feeling Rafe's eyes on her.
"how else could you have learned that the cross was on the Royal Merchant?" he asked and Kiara replied, indicating that they couldn't help him even if they wanted to, which was a terrible idea.
"We have been glued on an island for a month, how do you think we will help you?" Y/N added watching as Rafe got up and was about to walk expecting that this was all a game, but a guard holding a rifle stood in front of him.
Y/N's heart raced as she watched the guard step in front of Rafe, blocking his path. The realization sank in that escaping this mansion and the clutches of Carlos Singh's operation would not be as simple as they had hoped.
She, Kiara, and Rafe were locked in a room, one day to find this diary and witnessed Portis get shot in front of them, who wouldn't be fucking terrified? Rafe grabbed her arm and turned her to face him holding her shoulder firmly, "don't bullshit me, this diary, do you have it?" he asked.
Y/N pushed him away with a look, fear could be seen in them, "does it look like I have it, Rafe, no." she snapped, her voice filled with defiance. 
She took a step back, her eyes scanning the room for any possible escape route. 
☆☆☆
Rafe had slept the night on the ground while she and Kiara were on the bed, well Y/N had stayed the night awake thinking just in case, she and the Cameron boy got into arguments, he tried to talk to her but she kept pushing him away from her, saying that she doesn't own him shit.
Walking down the stairs with the guard's hand gripping her arm, she stood in front of Carlos in her pajamas, "I lied. I know about the diary, I don't have the original but I can get you a copy, but... if I do this I need to go alone, with Kiara and I swear to you, I'll give you the diary and then you let us go," of course, everything will end like shit with this man.
Apparently, Portis sent a message from beyond the grave that he had captured JB and Sarah and then she was dragged up the stairs by the guard and thrown into the room.
"Get up- Carlos is heading to John B and Sarah- why is he crying?" she asked looking at Rafe with a frown, amusement twinkling in her eyes, "Peterkin, daddy issues," replied Kiara standing up and looking at her with wide eyes at the piece of information.
"oh my god.." she shook her head at the boy.
"He has a boat that could get us out of here," Kiara added staring out the window and gesturing to Rafe who tried to walk towards Y/N but stopped at her glare.
"Fine. This is our only chance of getting out, but that doesn't mean I trust you," she added still in the silk pajamas, hers were black instead of grey, Rafe nodded, "Fine. I get it," It did pain him that she doesn't trust him though.
but, the trio worked amazingly in being actors that's for sure, Y/N deserved an Oscar for screaming so loud and pretending to see Kiara dead, she "fought" with Rafe who threatened to "kill" her, and by that, she means yelling and throwing furniture around to pretend they were fighting, Rafe helped her lay on the bathtub and pretend to be dead.
Hand holding hers she slid into the bathtub, a leg and a hand out, not a move of her muscles.
As the guard entered the room, his eyes widened in shock at the sight before him. Kiara lay motionless, her vacant stare adding to the illusion of death. Y/N's boots peeking out from behind the bathtub and her arm hanging limply added to the grim scene.
Before the guard could fully process what he was witnessing, Rafe sprang into action, with a swift and forceful movement, he struck the guard with the door, causing him to stumble backward. Rafe continued landing powerful punches that disoriented the guard, rendering him unable to react effectively.
Seizing the opportunity, Kiara swiftly moved to secure the guard. She expertly used the curtains, swiftly and efficiently binding his hands to prevent any resistance. 
Y/N, her heart pounding with adrenaline, went for the gun, her voice was firm as she issued her orders, "Stay still! Don't make a move," Y/N commanded and he froze under Rafe.
With the guard now subdued and under their control, the trio had a fleeting moment of relief. They exchanged glances, acknowledging the success of their coordinated efforts. 
and with that, they raced down the stairs following Rafe, Kiara took the picture of El Dorado and the girls followed their friend's brother, racing down the garden and climbing a passing truck.
her grip tightened around the gun, she is holding a gun at the age of 17 for fuck's sake, she almost gave it to Rafe if it wasn't for him to throw the guy off the truck, she was shocked and the first thing that came to mind was what if he did it to her and Kiara.
Rafe kept an eye on her for the entire time, they don't talk anymore and she has every right to hate him, but he kept an eye out, and he's beginning to regret every bad thing he did to her.
he was going to do anything if anyone tried to hurt her, they may never be friends again but he will try at least.
she pushed the green cover off her and sat against the truck as soon as the patrol was over, inhaling and exhaling she looked around, "I told you we just had to work together." not once did she glance at him nor Kiara did.
"All right. Listen, I'm headed out to my boat, okay? I can give you a ride out, drop both of you wherever somewhere safe. One thing though." Kiara looked at him with a frown while Y/N stared out in worry.
"Y/N look at me." with a clenched jaw she turned towards him, "I know your friends are on the island and my sister. I'm not helping them. All right? I can't trust them, okay? I'll give you a ride out, not them."
she stayed silent for a while before nodding, "I just want to get off the island," Rafe turned towards Kie who nodded as well still trying to catch her breath, "Same here."
"That's smart," he said and Y/N rolled her eyes, he really thought I was gonna leave my friends behind. JJ? her mind went back to the handsome blonde, is he alright? did he get caught by Singh?
running a hand through her hair in frustration, pushing it away from her face she leaned back, inhaling and exhaling to keep her anxiety down before she has a mental breakdown.
She could hear Rafe talk to Kie about how he always liked her and that she's at least half Kook, Y/N scoffed, "Half Kook, is it a nationality or something?" 
Rafe fought the urge to roll his eyes, "do you have to be sarcastic every time?" he asked making her turn towards him in annoyance, "Do you have to be such a jerk every time?" Y/N retorted, her voice filled with frustration.
Rafe looked taken aback for a moment before his expression hardened. "I'm not the one who brought a gun to a patrol, Y/N," he said, his voice cold.
Y/N bristled at the accusation, "I only brought the gun because I didn't trust you to keep us safe, as if you didn't hold a gun many times and aimed it at me," she said, her voice rising.
Rafe shook his head, looking exasperated. "You don't trust anyone, Y/N. That's the problem," he said, his voice tinged with annoyance, she didn't say another word, way too tired to argue.
"After what you have done to me, I will never trust you," Kiara watched them back and forth, "I did you a solid," he replied staring ahead, "You told everyone that we fucked, told everyone about my relationship with my father, and... you tried to kill Kie and aimed a gun at me." said Y/N.
Rafe tried to say something, but couldn't, so he closed his mouth.
Soon she hopped off the truck and landed beside Kiara with a thud, "Come on. My boat's down here." both the girls followed him towards a white big boat.
"Make sure your shoes are off. both of you." he ordered and the girls stood still, "Okay, we should have enough juice to get us to Saint Lucia, no problem." 
he noticed them still standing there, "Hey, get in the boat, Y/N! Kie!" he exclaimed watching them intensely, Kie spoke, "You're not gonna pull anything if we get in?" she asked the boy who sighed in vexation.
"No, I'm not gonna pull anything, okay? I'm trying to do you a solid here. You really wanna be back there with Singh, or do you wanna be somewhere safe? Now can one of you help me with the bowline?"
they finally did as told, Y/N kept her socks on as she climbed the boat, "Go help him with the bowline, I'll check around," Kiara nodded and the girl immediately moved around.
the sound of grunting caught her attention and Y/N raced outside, Kiara jumped on the boat and Y/N ran towards the railing seeing Rafe in the water, "oh shit!" she exclaimed looking at Kiara with wide eyes.
The girl started the boat and immediately took control, Rafe yelled and called out for the girls, and for the first time in a while, she felt a pang in her heart.
she felt bad but she had nothing to do, she had to save the Pogues.
"Kie! Where are you going?!" he exclaimed making her wince and look at him with a scrunched nose, "I've gotta help my friends!" yelled Kiara and the boat started moving.
"You don't know what you're doing! Hey!" he panted and threw his arms around, "Shit! I'll find you, Kie! I'll find you! you're both gonna regret this shit. Y/N! You're done!"
she gulped, "I'm sorry!" she yelled back turning around and making her way up to stand beside Kiara, "don't you think that's a little too far?" she asked the brown-haired girl who looked back at the boy, "maybe. please send them our location."
The girl nodded taking the phone and looking back at poor struggling Rafe, it's a bit too far, isn't it? She thought.
Y/N couldn't help but feel guilty as she watched Rafe struggling in the water. She knew that leaving him behind was harsh, but she also knew that she had to help her friends.
As Kiara drove the boat towards their destination, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, she didn't know what was going to happen next, but she knew that they were in for a rough ride, what if Carlos found them again and this time he kills her.
"Are you okay?" Kiara asked, breaking the silence.
Y/N nodded, her mind still racing, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... worried about what's going to happen next," she said, her voice filled with uncertainty.
"Do you have that gun?" asked Kiara again, Y/N nodded and pulled out the gun from behind her, "we are definitely going to jail," sighed the girl, "hey, it's just for protection."
"Yeah..."
With that they fell silent, the boat racing towards their destination, gun at the ready, waiting for the teenagers to appear, Kiara wrapped her arm around Y/N's shoulders and the girl stared ahead.
"I'm sorry...if I suspected you, I shouldn't have been harsh on you," started Kiara glancing at Y/N who threw herself on the chair in tiredness, her heart still hammering against her chest.
"Its fine, I get it Kie," she smiled at her and tapped the location on the screen, before putting her phone by her side and closing her eyes, "I would've done the same." Kiara smiled brightly and laughed.
"We will end up in jail one day, girl," she spoke making her laugh, "definitely, I regret leaving that dress back though, it was so pretty," Kiara nodded in agreement, "so sexy,"
***
Y/N leaned against the fence, thinking about everything, her finger tapped anxiously against the railing as she waited until the sight of a blue shirt and familiar blonde hair caught her eyes.
She frowned, who is he? why was he looking around? As soon as the boy turned around and his eyes caught Y/N, she froze, like time stopped and nothing mattered only their eyes meeting one another's.
The hues of E/C mixing in with the blue and the hint of turquoise, sharp features, pink cheeks thanks to the sun.
"JJ?" she called jumping off and racing down the small stairs trying not to slip, the boy was completely frozen, "JJ." she ran and the boy finally walked, every muscle in his body easing.
She threw herself on him, his strong arms wrapped around her so tightly as he pulled her to his body even closer, she ran her hand through his hair, tears blurring her vision.
"Y/N," JJ breathed out in the crook of her neck, lips brushing against her delicate skin, his voice filled with relief, she pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes, hand reaching to cup his cheek lovingly.
"Wow! I didn't think I'd see you ever again." she said her voice trembling but there was that beautiful smile on her lips, JJ tilted his head with a smile and studied her with his grip not once leaving her, "Yeah, but I'm here now. Okay? It's all right. It's all right." he said pulling her again towards him.
Her arms wrapped around him so tightly, JJ never wanted to pull away, her lips ghosting on his neck was inexpressible, JJ felt his heart racing as Y/N's lips brushed against his neck, sending shivers down his spine.
He had missed her so much, and he couldn't believe that she was finally here with him, worry ate him alive the past day when she wasn't by his side, and now he was cherishing the moment they were finally reunited.
They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, finding solace in the embrace.
"I can't believe you're here," Y/N murmured, her voice filled with a mix of joy and disbelief, "I thought... I thought I had lost you." JJ's grip tightened around her, and his voice was soft as an angel, "I'm here, Y/N. I'm not going anywhere," he reassured her, and he was right, he was never going to leave her ever again, he wasn't going to let someone take her from him.
"We'll get through this together."
JJ's smile widened, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from Y/N's cheek, he didn't care about anything but holding her to him, god he loved her.
and then after a hot minute of staring into one another's eyes, he finally pulled away as the others rushed over, JJ finally pulled away and as soon as her hand left his cheek he felt that coldness come back and then he hugged Kiara.
Sarah was on the verge of tears when she came to Y/N, she pulled her into a bear-crushing hug one that made the girl gasp for breath but she didn't complain.
"I was scared you and Kie got hurt," she said with a smile on her lips, Y/N smiled at her friend and kissed her forehead before hugging John B, Pope, and Cleo.
"I'm a Pogue, girly, me and Kie never get hurt," and of course, John B decided to be stupid, apparently the church bell ringing was the same one his dad used to ring to call him home.
Because as soon as he left, Carlos's men appeared and started shooting and if it wasn't Kiara starting the boat one would've gotten shot certainly, JJ was yet again exploding with anger as they left the island and if it wasn't JB calling, and telling them to go back to Outer Banks the boy would've drove himself mad that's for sure.
Kiara went down with the others to rest after a whole day of chaos, there was surprisingly a shower in the boat, that was how rich Rafe is, while JJ went to take a shower after Pope and Cleo were done, Sarah was sitting by Y/N's side overthinking.
"you're overthinking again," started Y/N keeping her eyes glued in front of her, Sarah snapped out of it and smiled at her friend, "Yeah, I guess I can't help it sometimes," Sarah admitted with a sheepish smile, leaning back against the wall of the boat. "There's just so much going on, and I can't help but worry, i'm worried about John B."
Y/N turned to face Sarah, her expression filled with empathy. "I understand," she said softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Sarah's arm, "It's natural to feel overwhelmed in situations like this. We're in this together babe, and your boyfriend found gold once, nothing bad will happen to that guy." she chuckled softly.
"I mean, look at the adventures we've been through with him. We always manage to find a way, even when the odds seem impossible. And with John B leading the charge, it's bound to be one hell of a journey." it was true, this was all because of John B.
Sarah smiled at the girl's words and wrapped her arms around her shoulder pulling her into a hug, "thank you for everything," she whispered kissing her friend's forehead, "Anything for you." and with their arms linked, silence fell.
"so what's going between you and JJ, you think I haven't noticed the heart eyes," started Sarah nudging her friend who stared ahead as if she didn't hear her, "You know how JJ is. He's just being JJ," she replied cheeks burning red.
Sarah raised an eyebrow skeptically, not buying Y/N's attempt at brushing off the topic, "Uh-huh, just JJ being JJ, huh?" she said, her tone filled with playful sarcasm, "I've seen the way you two look at each other. There's definitely something more going on."
Y/N couldn't help but smile, her gaze softening as she glanced at Sarah, "Okay, fine," she admitted, shaking her head softly and keeping her hand on the steering wheel, "Maybe there's something between us. It's hard not to feel a connection with someone when you've been through so much together."
Sarah's smile widened, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "I knew it!" she exclaimed, squealing so loudly that she had to put her hand over the girl's mouth, "hush you!" Sarah moved her head away and beamed. 
"You guys are adorable together. I ship it!"
and then JJ appeared, ruffling his blonde hair with a towel and he frowned at the girls, "Ship who?" Y/N pinched Sarah's side just as the girl opened her mouth to answer, urging her to keep her mouth shut.
Sarah winced at the pinch but quickly caught on, suppressing her laughter and keeping her lips sealed.
JJ furrowed his brow at the exchange, his curiosity piqued as he approached the two girls, "What's going on?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, "You guys seem like you're up to something."
Y/N flashed JJ a sweet smile, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh, nothing," she replied casually, her voice innocent. "Just girl talk, you know?"
Sarah nodded vigorously, feigning seriousness. "Yeah, just some girl talk," she chimed in, her eyes dancing with mischief.
JJ's frown deepened, clearly not convinced by their response but didn't insist, "I'll leave you guys together~" with that Sarah disappeared down the stairs while wiggling her eyebrows behind JJ.
JJ watched Sarah disappear down the stairs, a bemused expression on his face as he caught a glimpse of her mischievous eyebrow wiggle. He shook his head with a chuckle, turning his attention back to Y/N.
"Well, that was interesting," JJ remarked, a playful glint in his eyes. "I wonder what she's up to."
Y/N shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Who knows with Sarah," she replied, her voice filled with amusement, "She's always full of surprises." He nodded and took a seat.
She stared at the sea and glanced at JJ, “you certainly know the way to Outer Banks right…?” she said awkwardly pushing herself slightly to the side, the boy shook his head and stood up looking for a map.
He examined it and then around, “yes ma’am, just head right straight up to the sun, we’ll reach at almost night fall,” she shook her head at his orders and did as told, saluting him with a grin on her lips.
They stayed silent, it was never quiet between them so this wasn’t usual, he stood by her side, always taller and shielding her from the world, even if she wasn’t that short, he was a giraffe, growing every day probably.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” he finally spoke, making her turn to him in confusion, she furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side, she always did that when she was confused, sometimes scrunched her nose as well.
“Rafe.” He uttered his name like it was poison, if eyes could kill; poor Rafe would be dead all the way from Barbados.
She chuckled softly and lifted her silk top revealing the gun, “now if he did I wouldn’t have this now, would I?” she said sarcastically, and JJ swore he fell in love right there and then, his girl had a mother fucking gun.
Innocent and sweet Y/N from about 8 months ago was no longer there, this was Y/N mother fucking Maybank, god his last name fit perfectly with her.
“Atta girl, now that’s what I am talking about,” he added putting his back against hers and pointing his gun playfully, back when he was young, he and John B used to do it with those army plastic toys from Walmart (or make some using paper) and now he is doing it with his lover with real guns.
“That’s some John Wick shit, right there!” he exclaimed, Y/N took her own gun and pointed it around, partners in crime, she felt like Black Widow for fuck’s sake, this was dangerous, but danger can be fun.
They both laughed but she suddenly spoke, “hey it’s better we throw it away in the ocean, cops will investigate here and then us once we’re there,” she said throwing the gun in the sea, it had a single bullet anyways.
JJ kept his and looked at it longingly, “is there no damn camera?” he asked looking around and then she looked around, “look at the drawers,” she suggested turning back to the wheel, JJ looked around and after a good 10 minutes, a polaroid camera caught his eye, it had the initials “W.C”
Wheezie Cameron.
They both gave one another bright wicked smiles and she grabbed the camera, “pose mister Wick,” she said pulling the camera closer and closing one eye, snapping a picture of JJ grinning like an idiot while holding the gun with both hands showing his dimples, she laughed and took another one, one where he was more serious.
“It’s perfect,” she said with a smile holding the polaroid in hand, JJ scrunched his nose and shook his head trying to grab them, “absolutely not. Usually I would say no shit Sherlock but-“ She elbowed him cutting him off.
“They’re not yours at all, they’re mine” she said with a matter of fact tone putting the picture in her pocket, JJ hated how his cheekbones turned red and the way he stared at her, oh so lovingly, his heart suddenly started hammering against his chest in a speed of light, like it always did when he was with her.
They say that back then, a star used to lead a captain’s way on the ship, or whatever, JJ sucked at history, got an F in his last exam, hell he was surprised he didn't get a -F, if that even existed, only good date he managed to have right was when was the Fourth of July.
Ironic. heh, forth of july, the day he held her on a random rooftop.
And if it was true, then she was his star, his star girl, pretty E/C eyes, H/C hair, tanned skin, rosy cheeks due to the rays of sun and their stay in the island, and the salty water made her skin glow.
Fucking hell he wanted to kiss her, so so badly.
JJ looked away and grabbed the camera, snapping a picture of her staring ahead, and she noticed of course, raising an eyebrow at him so his first instinct was to beam innocently at her and sneakily take the picture that came out, “at least take a good picture,” she said in amusement.
He was surprised, for a second he thought she was going to yell at him until her words caught him off guard, “deal,” he said gesturing her to turn around, putting on the fake act of a professional photographer, classic JJ.
She leaned against the wheel and fixed her clothes, hair and then looked at him reassuringly, tilting her head to the side and JJ swore he was about to fucking faint, and he wasn't being dramatic. the sun kissing her skin and making her look like an angel descending from heaven, that for a second he sat there, admiring.
And after snapping out of thoughts, he took a picture, and as she waited for it to appear, he stared, lips pursed tightly and he swallowed, and once it did and she towered over his kneeling form, her hair fell around her like curtains that she pushed it away with a frustrated groan.
His eyes fell on her lips, a single move is all he needed, if he lifted himself just a little bit, he can capture her lips then-
“it’s cute, I guess, I look a damn duck but whatever,” she said pushing herself away with a chuckle, JJ didn’t know what to say, she was perfect, in every way, in so many ways that he couldn’t describe it all, his stare could, it did and that was why the tips of her ear burned red.
"you're not a duck,"
And as he rose to his feet, the boat suddenly moved and he went to her, his hand automatically went to hold her waist and pull her to him just as she was about to fall back, his other hand went to grip the wheel and his body pressed against hers in a matter of seconds.
Her hand gripping his shoulder in fear to fall and humiliate herself in front of her crush, the other on his chest, right on top of his hammering heart that she could feel it thunder against her palm, his hand though, right on her waist, his fingertips right on the spot where her skin was a little revealed making every hair in her body rise.
Her blood ran hot and they both stared at each other, absolutely love-struck, eyes in the shape of hearts and heart beating in sync, getting louder and louder in their ears, her chest went up and down as the air suddenly left.
And she swore she noticed him lean in, tilting his head slightly to the side and she moved as well, eyes dropping to his lips and then went up to his eyes- is it happening? Is it finally happening?
His nose bumped hers, the faintest brush of his lower lip on her upper one and she took a leap of faith to press her lips against his, hey, god was with her and giving her a sign might as well take it.
JJ didn't even hesitate to put a hand on her nape and pull her closer spinning so she leaned against the wheel, her eyes fluttered shut and wrapped an arm around his neck pulling him down so she could land back on the balls of her feet as her heart skipped yet another beat, her pulse drumming with each passing second.
The world around them seemed to vanish, the only sound left was the gentle splash of the water against the boat, the waves mirroring the rhythm of their kiss—soft, tentative at first, then JJ parted her lips with his own, deepening the kiss as if they were drawn into each other by some magnetic force.
JJ's fingers adorned by rings right on her nape and moving to hold her as he stepped closer to tower over her causing her to use her arm and pull him closer, parting her lips.
"oh shit-" someone breathed out causing her to freeze, JJ pulled away and looked back, there stood Pope, he gave them finger guns and left in a hurry.
"Uhm, well that was," started Y/N lips rosy thanks to him, "great," she shook her head turning to the wheel and tried not to smile like an idiot, "you should go see him."
"yeah I should- this shithead-" he said in frustration before turning to Y/N, "I'm not done with you, Stargirl."
"yeah I'm sure, fuck off, Starboy," she flipped him off. Yeah she'll be damned if she regrets it just because Pope stepped in, not he will never make out with Cleo? she will bet a hundred dollars once in outer banks, he damn will.
****
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Author note: guess what bitches? I got my computer back, feeding you hoes with JJ, my beloved husband, oh and I still haven't watched season 4 so I beg don't spoil. I hope you enjoyed it my lovely babies<333333 Thank you so much for the likes on every single thing I wrote, I appreciate it so much, miss you all and let me know what you think.
There will be a Part 3, just currently focusing more on my book so, but I'll make sure you guys got it!
special hashtag to these pookies (who likely hate my ass for not posting in so long, sorry homies don't burn my house<3): @loves0phelia , @nirvanalivesdilfs , @thekidscallmebosss , @@ladyinbl00d , @talyaaas-blog
ly.
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pseudowho · 8 months ago
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A Reliable Man
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Sometimes the hero you want, isn't always the hero you need.
A Kiyotaka Ijichi appreciation smutfic.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, loss of virginity
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"Ijichi...can you come and collect me, please?"
"Of course. Just send your location over."
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"Ijichi, it's so late. Are you okay to collect me?"
"Don't worry, I've been waiting. Have you eaten?"
"Oh...I haven't. It's alright, I can sort myself out--"
"I'll pick something up. It's no trouble."
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"--ah, shit-- Ijichi, call the school-- I need backup, urgently."
"Hold on. Get somewhere safe. I'll call everyone-- anyone. Get to safety. Please."
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"Ijichi, I--...I can't thank you enough. I wouldn't have made it out of there if you hadn't called for help. I...I really am sorry."
A pause. A soft sigh.
"...please, don't be sorry. You're out there saving lives. You don't have to be sorry about anything."
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Ijichi--
...your finger hovered over your phone screen. You saw the time; 10pm. You felt a familiar squirm of shame, disgusted by yourself for demanding so much of Kiyotaka Ijichi.
He was off the clock...you were in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere along the way, you had forgotten how hard he worked; while directing all of the assistants should have been a full time job in itself, Ijichi stepped above and beyond, by sacrificing his time, his effort, his safety, shift after shift after shift.
You tapped your phone against your forehead, eyes closed as you sighed. You decided to walk home. It would take you hours, but it was still better than--
Your phone vibrated in your hand. You looked at the screen.
Kiyotaka Ijichi.
You answered immediately, flustered, the words catching in your throat. Ijichi got there first. His voice, calm, soft, worried.
"I just...thought I'd check in. There aren't any drivers on tonight, but you're out on a mission. Are you home yet?" Tears pricked in your eyes, and you gulped.
"Ijichi.. you're not even at work. What are you doing? Calling me? You need a break." You chastised him. He laughed weakly, apologising in a flurry as you told him off.
"--it's my job to make sure you get hom--"
"--no it's not, Ijichi." Silence on the line. Ijichi waited for you, as he had a hundred times before, "It's not your job to get me home. Not every time. You...why are you...you need a break."
Another soft sigh; another warm pause.
"And I'll have a break," he continued, quietly determined, "when you're home safe. Send me your location. I'm on my way."
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He had opened the door for you. Gently laughed off your reproach. The seats were already warm. A hot drink, in a thermos. A snack bar in the glovebox.
Ijichi looked tired; by this point, you weren't sure if that was just his face, but you felt a strange flutter of sweet relief, joy, to be smiled at by him, as if you were worth the late hour and lack of sleep.
Ijichi cast his eyes over you, relaxing, "You're...not hurt. That's good. I'm--...I'm happy to pick you up," he offered, awkwardly, "but I've had enough of scraping you up and dragging you to Shoko."
You felt such prickling uncertainty bubble in you. Why were you suddenly shy in his presence? Why did his eyes casting over you feel so like a caress? Why did you not want the journey to end?
"Dinner," you blurted out, and Ijichi raised his eyebrows, eyes fixed on the road, "we should get dinner. If you've not eaten. I've not eaten. But if you don't want to eat then that's fine too I know it's late--"
"No no no, please don't-- yes, please, dinner sounds...lovely."
You took a moment to look down at yourself; muddy, dirty, bedraggled.
"Uhm...at yours, maybe? We'll order takeout?" You were too busy examining the state of yourself to see the blush that fizzed across Ijichi's sharp cheeks.
"I-- uhm--...sure. Yes. That would be...agreeable."
"So formal, Ijichi."
"Shush. I'm a professional."
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"So..." you finished your mouthful, trying not to feel embarrassed about being dressed in one of Ijichi's old t-shirts and sweatpants, "...he really said that? To quit, and get a driving licence?"
Ijichi laughed, his smile parting the clouds and making him look fifteen years younger. You couldn't help but laugh with him, your hand coming to cover your mouth, giggling together on his sofa like teenagers.
Ijichi wiped his eyes, sighing; "Gojo's a force of nature, it's true...but I probably owe him my life. I...feel like I can do more good in my current role, than I could have ever done on the front lines."
Setting down your plate, and wrapping your arms around your knees, you watched Ijichi, fascinated to see him slowly unwind, his loosening coils releasing the stresses of the day. You had never seen him like this...so relaxed. So happy.
You felt another odd squirm, this time a possessive, protective determination that he should never participate in Jujutsu Sorcery. That he should always be safe. You reached out for his hand, stroking his long, smooth fingers in yours.
Ijichi froze, so uncertain about how to react, having never had anyone show interest in him, barely even his parents, let alone a beautiful woman like you--
"You are the lifeblood of the sorcerers, Ijichi," you smiled, "and we'd fall apart without you. I'd fall apart--"
You were close now, almost sat on his lap. Your face was so close to his, that he felt your breath fan against his neck. He couldn't keep pretending he only checked in on you because it was his job. He couldn't keep pretending it barely bothered him when he saw you walk into danger. He couldn't keep pretending he didn't think about you all day and all night--
Ijichi pressed a kiss to your lips so fast, it felt like butterfly's wings. You gaped, wide-eyed, a blush creeping across your cheeks.
"I--I'm so sorry, that was-- that was highly inappropriate of me and I--...mmmfff..."
You had pulled Ijichi in by his collar, continuing the kiss he had started, with such heartfelt sincerity that Ijichi could have cried. You felt the wounds of so many horrible, selfish, unreliable boyfriends past. Ijichi felt the wounds of so many crushes, hopes and rejections past. Neither of you had noticed the treasure beneath your feet for the longest time-- unforgivably long.
Ijichi's hands clenched uncertainly as you kissed him, unsure where they should sit. He happily took your lead, tentatively responding to every press, every fluid movement of your supple lips against his. Only when your tongue swiped across his mouth, did Ijichi groan and respond instinctively, one hand coming up to push his glasses on top of his head, the other snaking to the back of your neck as he tugged you onto his lap.
You had never kissed someone who you knew would fight to the ends of the earth for you, and for whom you would reciprocate without question. A man who appreciated you as you were and wholeheartedly, and about whom you felt the same. A trustworthy man. A sincere man. A reliable man.
You pulled away for a moment, still holding his collar as you straddled his lap, panting against his lips; "Where have you been all my life?"
"In the front seat...just hoping to catch your eye in the mirror."
Crashing your lips against his again, sighing into his mouth, Ijichi's body strained with the heat of your thighs trapping him in. He was desperate to pull his shirt off, to feel your skin on his...except you needed him to act like he knew exactly what he was doing and--
"--wait...wait," Ijichi panted, resting his head against your shoulder, his hair ruffled, a pained grimace on his face. You cupped his cheeks, feeling him, hard and aching beneath you as he squirmed with an uneasy admission.
"I've...I've never-- I haven't--..." Ijichi winced, moving to lean back, mortified and humiliated. You saw his shame start to bubble over, and quickly slammed a lid on the pot. You did not let go of his collar, and did not let him lean back. Instead, you whispered against his lips, enough to make a whimper leave his lips and a drop of pre-cum leave his cock.
"Let's fix that then, shall we?"
Standing, full of divine purpose, you pulled Ijichi to his feet, nuzzling up into his ear until he shivered, his hands ghosting over your hips again.
"My room-- please--" he pressed, smiling into your neck as you laughed, being pushed gently backwards towards his bedroom. Stumbling together into his bedroom, giggling, stealing kisses, and necking like teenagers, you felt yourself thrown back into some sweet young love that you always wanted to have, but never received.
You fell back onto his bed with a bounce and Ijichi stood nervously before you, wanting to follow his instinct to crawl on top of you and bracket you under his arms, but crippled by his lack of confidence. You raised your foot, slipping your toes under his t-shirt and tickling his belly. Ijichi smiled, buckling and grabbing your foot, crawling over you with lovesick eyes. You made it all so easy.
"Ijichi..." you hummed, nosing at his neck, "...whatever your gut tells you to do, is probably right. I trust you. So please, show me what you want."
Ijichi felt shivers down his spine at your open invitation. His fingertips grazed down your plush inner arm, the little squidge of fat between your breast and armpit, the smooth untouched plane beneath your breast. Your eyes fluttered closed, delighted by his reverent touch. His hand gripped your shirt, and you almost felt tears prick in your eyes as he gently shielded your face to pull it off over your head.
Your bra had shifted with wandering hands, and your nipple peeked half-in-half-out, pressed by the edge of the cup. Ijichi ducked his mouth towards it, and you saw him hesitate again. You reached back, undoing your bra and removing it. Your eyes flicked down to his mouth, and back up to his eyes, dark and drunk.
"I'd like that," you whispered, and Ijichi breathed a shuddering gasp of relief before taking your nipple into his mouth, tasting you with open-mouthed sucks and laps. You heard his wet little grumbles of appreciation against your skin, when his hand came up to gently finger the softly yielding squidge of your other breast, Ijichi's fingers playing with your nipple with delighted exploration.
Ijichi was so overstimulated already, so touch-starved, and his cock so rigid, that he felt worryingly close to finishing-- so unable to control his own excitement at exploring someone's body so intimately for the first time. That the body belonged to you, the woman he had been falling in love with for years, was the final nail in the coffin, of him threatening to spill in his boxers.
You felt this in him, already prepared for him to want to curl up and die from embarrassment, if he didn't last. You were thrilled by his worship of you, having been treated as expendable more than once before. Teaching him would be a privilege and an honour. All the while, you failed to see how he taught you the bare basics of being respected and revered by a lover.
Ijichi was finely-tuned to subtle shifts in the atmosphere around him, and he learned quickly what you liked as he took your breasts into his hands and mouth. He felt the flickering of your hips up towards his when he licked you a certain way, and the hairs on his neck stood up to hear the breathy moans from your lips when he countered, pressing his twitching cock down against your clothed pussy.
Feeling a warning trickle of pre-cum, Ijichi pulled away from your breasts with a hiss, wrapped up in need and barely ashamed to hear himself beg you; "--please, I-- gosh, I'm sorry so sorry-- not going-- not going to make it--"
You kissed him again, soft and reassuring, as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. Ijichi moaned, long and shaking, as you draped his tie around your neck, the tails trailing over your wet-nippled breasts.
"God, you're lovely," he blurted out, blushing as you laughed, your head thrown back in genuine joy.
"Not nearly as lovely as you, beautiful man," you purred, ecstatic to see Ijichi's blush deepen when he moved to hide his face, his nose nuzzling in unbridled affection against your neck. Pushing his shirt off his slim shoulders, you raised your feet to hook around his trousers, looking at him with a playful glint.
Ijichi raised his eyebrows in question, and cried out to feel you push his trousers and boxers down, shivering as his cock bobbed out, red-tipped and wet with pre-cum. Ijichi quaked to feel the cool air hit his length, a drip of pre-cum dropping onto your belly.
You felt Ijichi tensed, brittle above you, and knew he risked spilling in your hand if you touched him. Still, you trailed your hand down his belly, nails grazing in the barely-there black hair, before slowly encircling his cock, hot and heavy in your hand.
Ijichi saw stars, his own hand the only one his skin had even known, and groaned into your neck, instinctively bucking into your grip; "--ooohhh, f--...gosh," he whined against you, coughing in alarm as you giggled again, your fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around his length. Your other hand pushed down Ijichi's borrowed sweatpants and your panties.
"...are you ready?" You asked Ijichi, smiling at his enthusiastic nod. You rolled the head of his cock between your folds, wet and warm, and Ijichi's arms almost buckled with the bliss and promise.
You guided Ijichi into you, squeaking as he bucked into you, bottoming out in one thrust. Ijichi snapped, cursing in a way that was so alien to the Ijichi you had always known. He gasped, one hand reaching down to sink into the side of your hip, relishing the way you jolted beneath him as he filled you with ragged thrusts.
Never had a man been so captivated by you. The feeling of Ijichi's inexperienced desperate rutting, was so vastly outweighed by the enthusiasm with which he treated your body. By the time you rolled your hips in time to meet his thrusts, pushing his cock deeply enough that you felt the first hot stirs of pleasure in your belly, Ijichi was crumbling around you.
"--please please please...please please please-- oohhhh fuck-- ooohhh fuck a condom, shi--"
Ijichi came with a strangled cry, so lost in his base instinct to cum inside you, that he couldn't help but let his seed spill into you, in ragged, disjointed bucks. You drank in the bliss on Ijichi's face...slowly seeing it morph into horror, and you were quick to reassure him, peppering kisses on his lips and cheeks.
"You're okay, it's okay...I'm on protection, shhh it's okay, I loved it, I loved it--"
"God I forgot all about you--"
"---you didn't, you did so well, and besides, we've got all night--"
"All ni...? Oh...oh. All night," Ijichi smiled, absolutely burning with adoration, as you burned for him. Your eyes flickered up to his head, and you pressed a hand over your mouth, eyes sparkling.
"...your glasses are still on your head, Ijichi."
"Ah! Oh...gosh."
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