#also like a vague reference to abuse

[ardentpoop]

I discussed succession at length with my therapist but I cannot name supernatural in-session that’s a level of vulnerability I’m not prepared for

[eclaire-went-bam]

i'm THIS close to just making my pronouns he/it, or just it/its, bcs istg ppl see "prefers it/it but also ok with he/they" & think it's a good excuse to not call me by my "weird" pronouns

people hardly ever use "he" either, bcs i don't pass

like. it/it's my preferred pronouns. he/they is tolerable but over time i'm just going to get annoyed. wait till they hear abt my super secret neopronouns

[karmaphone]

anybody know how old beast boy was when he contracted sakutia

[becameundone]

min ; Stomach, Hips

HONESTY NIGHT QUESTIONS !!

STOMACH: Do you feel confident in your body image?

"Ick, are we talking about this? Fine. Right now, I'd say I'm pretty confident. For me, I've never had much of an issue with my body image but there was a period in my life when I felt a pressure to look perfect all the fucking time. I couldn't just breathe or relax. It got to a point of me feeling like, if I wasn't perfect on any given day, then surely I must be ugly. It might sound daft, saying it so bluntly like that, but it sort of haunted me. These expectations were being put on me at a time when I already felt like a total failure. I was just so desperate for validation and I thought my looks were the only thing left worthy of that. That was a while ago and I've got better people around me now. I dress how I like, I live how I want and I think I still look pretty bloody hot."

HIPS: Do you like to dance?

"I should fucking hope I like to dance. Only pushed my dad to the brink of disowning me because of it. I'll be honest, after I left uni, it took me a while to get back into dancing seriously because I was afraid I might end up hating it. But I didn't. At all. I had a bit of a rough time accepting I wouldn't be starting at the same level I left off but it feels so natural to me now. I'm at the studio a lot, I think it keeps me sane."

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #24: The Midwest Prince(ss)

Danny is a Singer/Siren/Banshee au where he’s basically a Chappel Roan-type figure.( Also, I'm Dead on Main trash so Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Celebrity x Civilian romance for two of my favorite boys)

Danny’s Ghostly Wail develops into vocal manipulation bc he’s a siren or banshee. Ember teaches him to sing and control the power. He finds music is a good outlet for his emotions and decides to pursue music as Danny. It takes him a few years but he develops a style and brand that he bases off the Realms. However, he doesn’t anyone to connect him to Phantom so he uses parts of his ancestors’ names to become “Walker Gale”(shout out to my beautiful mutual @mirigold-mayflowers for helping me pick that name), ordinary small-town midwestern boy turned Music Icon. He hires Val as his personal bodyguard, Sam as his manager, and Tucker as his head stage tech.

He dresses in really campy clothes the low-key mimic his ghost form as well as other ghosts he’s met. The outfits change to match the vibe of the song. So a rock ballad with an outfit inspired by Ember, Show Tunes-Murder Mystery-type-beat with a costume for Amorpho, EDM-techno-hyperpop themed song styled after Technus or Skulker, etc. He just has a lot of fun experimenting with his appearance and he’s an icon for it. He even makes friends with Star and Paulina through this and they give him feedback and help with new looks. The eventually join the team as his PR and Styling team.

Since he’s a banshee/siren all his songs have this underlying despair/sadness even if they have a fun and bubbly beat. He also references his feelings about being/hiding as Phantom and being partially dead and shit but vaguely so no one actually knows or assumes it’s a metaphor. Many of the themes are actually things lgbtq people identify with, specifically trans and bi fans. He also references battles he’s fought and ppl assumes he’s talking about mental illness or abuse which attracts another category of fans altogether. Again inspired by Chappel Roan his first album his called "The Ascent and Downfall of a Midwest Prince" gaining him the nickname the "Midwest Prince".

He’s weird and unfiltered and full of emotion and he gains a few fans in the hero community too. Raven and Zatanna start a fan club for him, well aware he’s some type of banshee/siren but knowing that the extent of his powers are being used to deliver beautiful performances. The are staunch supporters of him and his music and spread it to their friends. The current fan club is Co-Presidents Zatanna + Raven, VP Greta(Secret, a.k.a: a ghost hero), Starfire, Bart, Cassie, Tim, Kon + Jon, Steph, Cass, and Billy.

His identifying features are a signature make-up look and white underdye (when the color is on the underside of the hair). He’s grown his hair longer so it’s not super visible when he has it down and not styled. He also looks different without make-up so he can totally go unrecognized in public and live life semi-normal (as normal as a half-ghost vigilante powerhouse superstar can be). He actually planned it to be that way so that he could still go to college and stuff even though he’s doing it mostly online. All this to say that Danny has low-key got a Hannah Montana thing going on. Also, let's mix it up a bit and say he's based in Star City.

One day Danny goes to a second-hand book store because he's looking for a cheap textbook when he bumps into an absolute hunk of a man who doesn't seem to recognize him. Jason had been in Star City to visit Roy and Lian. He stopped at a second-hand bookstore to see if he look for some older editions of books (one time he found a second edition copy of Persuasion so he likes to peruse) and ran into a super pretty boy who made his chest feel funny and doesn't realize he's a Wayne. They got to talking about started really connecting. They decided to exchange numbers and kept in touch, meeting up every now and then when they had the chance. Danny gave him his private social media accounts so Jason never learned much more beyond that Danny worked in the music industry but not his exact role in it.

Eventually Danny moves to Gotham, either bc he switched labels or to be closer to Jazz whose doing her doctorate thesis on reforms that need to be made in Arkham. He and Jason begin meeting up in person more frequently and start catching feelings. Danny really wants to ask him out but feels sleazy doing it without telling Jason about his past and superstar alter ego. However, he also doesn't want to lose the mostly normal friendship they have. On the flipside Jason wants to date Danny but doesn't want to drag him into the life of a vigilante or the life of a Wayne. Both of them Pine and Agonize over this. In the end Danny decides to bite the bullet and tell Jason who he is, every part of who he is. He invites Jason over for a movie night and tells him he's got something important to tell Jason.

That same day Starfire decides to introduce Walker Gale's work to the other Outlaws and Jason really resonates with his work. He identifies with the lyrics on a literal and physical level and recognizes the underlying emotions that usually only other ghosts or liminals can. Starfire overjoyed that her friend likes his music decides to show Jason some of his music videos and photos. Jason, not being blind or an idiot, recognizes not only the props and costumes but his crushes face under that (very well done) make-up.

Jason is stunned and conflicted: it’s not like Danny lied to him about who he was, but he was entirely truthful either. Did he assume Jason knew? Or did he just not trust Jason? Why did he even bother with Jason, a seemingly regular guy, if he had such a claim to fame? And Jason keeps listening to his music and it’s speaks to him the same way hanging out with Danny does, making him feel seen and connected. It makes him all the more sure that someone incredible as Danny doesn’t need someone like Jason. He heads to Danny’s place that night very subdued.

He gets to Danny’s place and the smile that greets him twists him up inside. He puts on a mask and tries to act normal but Danny can tell somethings up but persists as he has made up his mind to be clear with Jason. He sits him down and tells him there is something important he wants to tell Jason. He starts by letting Jason know that he cares about him very much and appreciates the normality and closeness of their friendship. He confesses that he doesn't normally get that bc well, he's the superstar "Walker Gale". Danny goes onto say that the reason he didn't say anything earlier was because he treasures the simplicity of what he had with Jason and the reason he's telling him now is because he couldn't continue a relationship that he wants more from without being completely honest.

Jason's heart thunders in his chest and he stares at Danny with a slightly constipated look. Danny asks Jason what's wrong and on an impulse Jason word vomits his feelings. That he actually found out through a friend earlier today, that he really connected to his music the same way he did with Danny, that he's never felt seen the way Danny sees through him, that he's never felt the same way as deeply before, that he's completely and utterly in love with Danny but was scared to say anything and get him involved with his crazy life and the Waynes. And Danny sits and listens shellshocked.

And the only thing Danny can think to do is kiss this incredible boy senseless and tell him that if he likes him back then they can figure it out.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 5

Part 1: Linked Here | Part 2: Linked Here | Part 3: Linked Here | Part 4: Linked Here

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out, Smut

🚫🔞THIS IS AN ADULT BLOG CONTAINING EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, A18+ ONLY.🔞🚫

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes, lemon, hand job, vague references to Shoto being abused by family, reader experiences anxiety

Link to My Master List

Your alarm wakes you from a restless sleep. You blearily slap at your phone until it stops beeping and you sit up in bed.

Deep in your bones, you feel upset.

But why? Your fuzzy brain can’t seem to put all the pieces together from the night before. Then in a flash you remember – the text. The sweatshirt. YaMomo.

Oh, right. You had drifted off around 4 am after hours of agonizing and pacing around your tiny dorm room.

Maybe it was all just a weird dream? You reach out your hand and grope along your side table until you find it – Shoto’s phone. You scoop it into your arms and tap it to reveal his bland blue-sky screensaver. There are two texts on the screen – one from you, and one from Momo Yayarozo.

Momo: “Hey Shoto, you left your sweatshirt in my dorm room yesterday evening. Come pick it up tomorrow? Good night.”

Okay so this is really happening. For what feels like the billionth time, you review the facts in your head.

Fact #1: Shoto and Momo are friends. They have always been fairly close and supportive of each other.

Fact #2: Shoto left some clothing in Momo’s room. And it’s a sweatshirt – not a super strange piece of clothing to leave in a friend’s room, right? But regardless, the text indicates that Shoto has physically been in YaMomo’s room.

Fact #3: Momo is hot. That feels relevant to list out here. But you don’t know if Shoto personally finds Momo hot, which is an important detail in this investigation.

It’s probably nothing…but you can’t help the way that a nervous knot forms in your stomach as you re-read the text message for the umpteenth time. Momo and Shoto have always been…close? But how close?

An image forms in your mind of Momo, her beautiful curvy figure leaning over Shoto during a seemingly innocent study session….You shake your head. No! These are your friends! You can’t assume the worst of them. Also, didn’t you seduce Shoto during a “study session” just last night? It seems a bit hypocritical to look down on someone else for doing the same.

You resolve to confront Shoto about this in the morning, to ask him for an explanation as to why Momo is currently in possession of a Todoroki sweatshirt. As you get ready – putting on your uniform, doing a quick skincare regimen, and brushing your hair - your mind swirls with questions and more than a little doubt.

You open your closet and reach for a box of protein bars that you’ve stashed at the bottom, breaking open the box and grabbing a chocolate chip bar for your breakfast.  You toss the snack into your bag alongside Shoto’s phone. Your emotions are all twisted up in the worst way. You’re simultaneously anxious and angry. But what exactly you’re angry about, you can’t put your finger on – are you angry about the situation, about Shoto’s potential two timing? Or are you angry at yourself for agonizing over the whole thing? You’re not completely sure, but you know for a fact that your lack of sleep isn’t doing anything to help.

Scowling, you march out of your dorm room and through the common area, ignoring the various “good mornings” of your friends as you go.

“Damn what crawled up Y/N’s ass and died this morning?” you hear Sero say loudly to Mina and Ochaco as you trudge down the stairs and out onto the quad. You’re too sleep deprived and pissy to care.

As you walk, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You fish it out and look at the screen where a barrage of texts alerts take up residence on your bright lock screen. It’s your group chat with Toru and Mina, appropriately labeled “Girlie Squad.”

Toru: Y/N! What’s the deal!?

Mina: Is everything okay?

Toru: So totally rude of you to ignore us!

Mina: You look like death.

You ignore them; you don’t have the wherewithal to make up an excuse for your sour mood. You make a mental note to respond before class so they don’t suspect that anything too crazy is going on with you. Your phone buzzes again, and you’re about to text the group to back off when you notice that – oh! It’s Honenuki this time.

You open the message and see that he’s linked you to a new song. You click through and it brings you to “This Must Be the Place” by the Talking Heads. You type out a quick text.

Y/N: You moved on to the 80s?                    

Honenuki: Ha. Yeah, 80s New Wave is the vibe this week. You like the Talking Heads?

Y/N: Yeah I’m a fan. “And She Was” is a favorite of mine.

Honenuki: A woman of taste! How’s you’re week going Y/N?

Y/N: Eh kinda crappy. Classes have been crazy, and I’m in a bad mood. You?

Honenuki: *typing*

Honenuki: Yeah the hero course has been tough lately. Maybe this will help.

He sends you another song, this time its “I’m Walking On Sunshine” by Katrina and the Waves.

Honenuki: A serotonin boost. Don’t let a tough week take away your sunshine, ‘kay? Hope the day gets better!

Y/N: Thanks dude, hope you have a good one too.

You smile down at your phone. Huh, Honenuki’s actually kind of cool. You’ve got a sneaking suspicion that Class B isn’t as bad as Monoma’s immature behavior has lead you to believe. As it turns out, they’re all sort of normal. The anxiety is still bubbling around in the pit of your stomach, but having so many friends be concerned about you lessens it a tiny bit. Mina, Toru, Honenuki. It’s nice to have people looking out for you. You hope that after the conversation you’re about to have that Shoto can be a member of that list.

You have a feeling you know where Shoto is this morning, and you’re determined to confront him there.

You walk across campus in the early morning sun, dew sticking to your shoes as you plod across the damp, freshly mowed grass. You come to one of the training gymnasiums and let yourself inside. The ground floor is comprised of a gym entirely dedicated to the peers in your year. It has a ton of exercise equipment and training gear, and is open most hours of the day.

You push open the big double doors to the gym and find Todoroki in the far corner. It’s extremely early and it looks like Shoto is the only guy from your year who chose to get some reps in this morning.

He’s wearing athletic gear – basketball shorts and a tight fitting tank top – and he’s covered in sweat. He shines in the lowlight of the gym, skin glowing as he bicep curls a massive free weight in each arm. He looks like a Greek god, his physique is glorious and his muscles flex with practice skill. If you weren’t so upset, you’d worship at his feet.

He hears the door open and looks up with a start, uncurling his arms in a way that shows off his workout pump. Fuck his body should come with a warning label like: Caution: Extremely hot, do not approach unless you’re prepared to drop your panties.

“Y/N?” He says with wide-eyed surprise. He moves to put down the weights and reaches for a small white towel. He wipes the sweat off of his gorgeous brow and looks at you, confusion in his eyes. You don’t typically lift in the mornings, and you’re already in your school uniform.

You approach him briskly, your steps precise and sharp as you maneuver around various machines and pieces of workout equipment. Your steps echo in the expansive space.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, tilting his head to the side like a dog. He’s so cute you almost forget that you’re mad at him. Wordlessly, you reach into your bag and pull out his cell phone.

“Oh, my phone.” He says blankly. “That’s right, I left it in your room, didn’t I?” He reaches out and accepts the cellular device from you. “Mr. Aizawa caught me on the staircase, so I couldn’t come back to get it. I got a detention, but I don’t think it will be too bad. Thank you for bringing this back to me.” He slides the phone into his short’s pocket without a second glance.

“Did you come to workout with me?” You see there’s a hint of eagerness in his face. He slowly turns around and looks to a pile of free weights in the corner. “What weight would you like to start with? I can go get some for you.”

Before he can turn to walk away, you reach out and grab his shoulder. You feel the definition in his muscles and it makes your knees weak for a moment. Goddamn, girl. Get yourself together here. Cut to the chase.

“Why is YaMomo texting you?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. “She said you left your sweatshirt in her room.”

Shoto doesn’t seem phased by this. He calmly removes his phone from his pocket and opens up his messages.

“Oh, she did text me. Thanks Y/N.” He types something back to Momo and hits send before pocketing the phone once more. You stand there in disbelief as he acts like nothing odd has happened.

“You’re in your uniform. Do you want to go and change? There’s still plenty of time before homeroom if you want to get a few reps in. I can spot you if you want to do some deadlifts.” He says helpfully, using the towel again to wipe off his perfectly formed shoulders. “I never see you workout in the mornings, did you come just to see me?” He smiles mischievously, but you can tell that he’s genuinely thrilled that you’ve joined him.

“Shoto.” You say, ignoring his offer. “Why did you leave your sweatshirt in Momo’s room?”

“Hmm.” His expression crinkles a bit as he thinks back. “I guess I must have taken it off while we were studying. Her room is pretty stuffy. She has way too much furniture crammed into her dorm. I told her she should get a smaller bed.”

“So when you were with her…you were just ‘studying’?” You prompt, annoyed that he doesn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation here. Is he trying to pull one over on you?

“Yes. We did a short review of the quadratic equations we’ve been working on in class this month. YaMomo put together a review session for Kaminari, Jiro and I. Well mostly for Kaminari, but I still found the material helpful.” He stretches, hands behind his head. “Would you like to join our next math review? Momo makes quite a good teacher. She’s a great friend for organizing so many study groups.”

You look at him in disbelief, your jaw hanging open. Oh my god. OH. MY. GOD. Did you stay up half the night blowing A TEXT completely out of proportion!? Holy crap did you just spend hours worrying and agonizing and imagining fake scenarios over absolutely NOTHING!? You’re enraged with yourself. How could you let one tiny text absolutely destroy you like that? You’re supposed to be a level-headed hero! And right now you’re acting like some kind of lovesick middle schooler. Grow the fuck up Y/N! This is not how a normal person acts!

You’re absolutely spiraling inside, ashamed of the way you’ve been absolutely tearing yourself apart worrying that Shoto had two timed you with Momo. How silly. How ridiculous. Shoto and Momo are both you’re friends and somehow your horny Neanderthal brain made them both into enemies at the drop of a hat. You feel like an awful person for thinking of Shoto and Momo in such a horrible light.

“What’s wrong?” Shoto says slowly, bringing you back to reality. Your head is absolutely spinning. You’re exhausted and shaky, anxiety still coursing through your veins. Shoto shuffles forward to get a closer look at you, concerned. He reaches out to put a hand on your waist. “Are you not feeling well?” His voice is tinged with concern and he’s looking at you with such warm eyes it makes you want to die.

“I’m feeling fine.” You snap, and Shoto instantly flinches away at your sharp tone. He recoils almost like a child that’s been admonished. His exposed fear at your harsh words makes you feel even sicker to your stomach. It makes you wonder again at how he’s treated at home. You have so many emotions flowing through you at once that you aren’t sure how to respond. Embarrassed, exhausted and unsure of yourself, you turn and walk away.

“Y/N – wait! What’s wrong?” He calls after you as you quickly weave around the gym equipment.

“I’m fine.” You say again in a clipped tone, not having the strength to look back at him.

You leave Shoto confused and alone in the large space.

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

You stomp your way to the classroom building. Your stomach is riling and you have too many emotions to count.

You text Mina and Toru in your group chat. You send them a vague excuse about waking up on the wrong side of the bed or some shit. Mina responds that she didn’t sleep well either and Toru sends a heart emoji. You assume all is forgiven.

Much to your class’s surprise, Recovery Girl is standing in Mr. Aizawa’s usual place when you all arrive.

“Does this mean what I think it means?” Toru whispers as she takes her seat. You ignore her, still stewing. You can’t make sense of your feelings right now…why are you so damn angry? You’re certain that Shoto is telling the truth – it was just a study session in Momo’s room. You could easily ask Kaminari or Jiro to corroborate his story.

It’s not the study session that’s making you angry though…it’s the way you stayed up all night obsessing about Momo and Shoto’s friendship. The potential hookup. What it would mean if Shoto was seeing other people, despite your discussion about keeping the intimacy monogamous.

You’re embarrassed and ashamed. And now you’re even more abashed of the way you spoke to Shoto.

“Hello class. Aizawa had to take the morning off to attend to some personal matters, so we’re going to dive into our first Sex Ed lesson today ahead of your English class.”

The class groans.

“Don’t worry everyone, this one is quick. It’s just a stepping stone to our larger conversations.” She says kindly, peering up at them through her thick glasses. “Today we’re just going to chat about interpersonal relationships, specifically about how boundaries and strong communication can lead to stronger relationships. This is going to play directly into your friendships, into your hero work, and, eventually, into intimate relationships as well.”

“Who knows what a boundary is?” She looks around expectantly, but no one raises their hand. Everyone is too nervous to engage. She sighs. “Alright, well to start: when we set a boundary, we establish clear limits or guidelines about how we want to be treated. We may define what behaviors are acceptable to us or not. Can anyone think of a good example of what a boundary may be?”

Uraraka raises her hand. “Could a boundary be asking someone not to call you a certain name? Like if Midoriya told Bakugo that being called ‘Deku’ was crossing a boundary for him, it would be wrong of Bakugo to continue using the name, right?”

“Keep my name out of your mouth, pink cheeks!”

“Sounds like Bakugo is crossing the name calling boundary already!” Mina calls out mockingly, and Katsuki looks at her with eyes full of fire and brimstone.

“Settle down! Yes, Uraraka. That’s a good example of a boundary. Boundaries can also be physical or emotional. I’ll give some applicable examples: during training you may feel the need to tell your sparring partner that you aren’t comfortable with your face or chest being touched. In a friendship, you might set a boundary with that person requesting that they not share private personal information about you with other friends. In a dating relationship, you may set boundaries surrounding physical intimacy. The boundaries you set depend on your feelings and needs, as well as the relationship. The most important part of boundary setting is clear communication. Be direct about your feelings and need for a boundary, and don’t be afraid to verbally reiterate to reinforce the boundary. Any questions?”

You see Shoto’s hand lift towards the ceiling. You look over at him and your stomach rolls.

“Yes, Shoto?”

“Say a friend is mad at you, and you’re not sure why. Can I set a boundary in the future requesting that they be direct with me and communicate their feelings as clearly as possible?” He looks straight ahead, careful not to meet your eyes.

Recovery Girl’s mouth quirks a bit. “That is…an oddly specific question.”

She thinks about it for a moment then smiles at Shoto. “But yes, setting clear boundaries surrounding your communication needs is perfectly reasonable. A good step would be to meet this friend in a neutral area and to request that they have an open and honest conversation with you about how they are feeling and why. Tell them that in the future, you would like to have an open line of communication with them and that it upsets you when you don’t understand their feelings. Be sure to underscore that you want to understand them better, and you care about them. Of course, it is important to note that sometimes your boundaries will not be considered or respected. Your friend may not be willing to sit down with you and have a conversation. All relationships are complex and everyone has their own needs that they want met. The best we can do is be respectful of one another and try to approach difficult interpersonal situations with as much empathy and grace as possible.”

Shoto considers this, and nods with understanding.

“Does anyone else have a question about boundaries?”

Mineta raises his hand but begins speaking without being called on. “I think we all know that my boundaries are to see as much of the girls’ boobs and butts as I can. If the ladies of the class could all respect my boundary by having their assets on display as much as possible, it would be much appreciated.”

The lesson ends there.

Mineta is sent to the Principle’s office and Recovery Girl gives them a long lecture about respect and body autonomy. Present Mic comes in halfway through to start his English class. One look at Recovery Girl’s angry face is enough to send him packing, and he doesn’t pluck up the courage to come back and begin his class until 15 minutes have elapsed.

You think about Shoto’s question and feel a stab of shame. Shoto isn’t the best at understanding people, and he comes from a volatile home life where it sounds like his father’s anger is often weaponized. Of course he’s hurt and confused at your seemingly mysterious anger towards him. You wonder if he’s full of anxiety as well. You really shouldn’t have just left him in the dust this morning.

You glance over at Shoto, but he’s still staring straight ahead. His eyes are focused on Present Mic and the chalkboard, but they look a little glazed over. He’s not taking notes. He’s clearly deep in thought about something. You wonder if he’s thinking about you.

Crap, you really screwed this one up.

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

The rest of the day goes by pretty fast. There is the usual blur of classes, training, sparring and lunch. Mr. Aizawa reappears for combat training later in the day. He does not share an explanation as to where he has been. Instead, he doubles down on training and makes everyone work twice as hard as usual.

Shoji lays you out on your ass during said combat training and you’re absolutely sure your legs are going to bloom with bruises later on. He apologizes profusely but you shake it off and tell him it was a great throw. The way you had flown through the air must truly have been a sight to behold, as other students are taking a break from their work to come and check that you are okay. Shoji, still incredibly embarrassed, offers to take you to Recovery Girl for a quick once-over.

You catch Shoto’s gaze watching with concern from across the room where he’s sparring with Tokoyami. The momentary lapse in his attention allows for Dark Shadow to hit him square in the chest. He falls back on his own ass and blinks up at Tokoyami with wide-eyed shock.

“You’ve been woefully distracted lately, Todoroki.” You overhear Tokoyami say to Shoto as he pulls the fallen hero back to his feet. “Is everything okay?”

You feel a mixture of shame and embarrassment pool in your stomach as you realize that you’ve been ruining Shoto’s focus. An anxious, terrible thought creeps into your brain…maybe Shoto is better off without you tangled up in his life. You’re a distraction from his hero training, and he from yours. Plus, you’ve most definitely hurt him with the way you jumped to conclusions and then left him to sit with your angry vibes. Maybe for Shoto’s sake…maybe you need to break this off sooner rather than later? You shake your head in an effort to clear the thought from your mind.

“Y/N…are you sure you don’t want to go to Recovery Girl? You’re definitely going to have some nasty bruises from the way you hit the ground.” Shoji tries one more time. You wave him off, starting to get annoyed at the way everyone is dotting on you. Your nerves are absolutely fried.

“No, no. It was my fault for not breaking my own fall. I need to be more careful. Let’s go one more time – but give me a second or two to practice my counter move so we can see if it would be effective against your dupli-arms.” Shoji nods and squares up to you, giving you a moment to collect yourself and get into a position with more leverage. You train together for a few more rounds of sparring before Mr. Aizawa comes around and adjusts your posture to better protect your body from damage. You’re annoyed at the correction, but grateful for the advice.

After combat training, you shower and roll back to the classroom for your final lesson of the day – math. Ugh. You settle back into your desk, taking out your notebook and pencils and trying to convince your brain to cooperate for one last hour.

During the class, Mina passes you a hot pink post-it note that has two quick sentences scribbled out in her neat script: “Stage Two: Rendezvous in the Library at 8pm. Be sure you aren’t followed.”

You roll your eyes at her and tuck the note into your book bag. Mina’s flare for the dramatic could be the thing that blows this whole party operation; you need to keep her in check. You pull out your planner and scribble a quick reminder to meet up with Mina, Toru and Nieto in the evening.

You’re tired and angsty and anxious – to be perfectly honest, you’re not in the mood for a dose of party planning and strategy tonight. In fact, you’d rather take a second, longer shower and spend the evening brooding in your room. You need to figure out how you’ll make things right with Shoto. And you need to determine if hooking up is posing for too much of a distraction to you both. You return to your quadratic equations, morale low and enthusiasm for math crumbling.

The day ends unceremoniously. You pack up your bag, stuffing your notebooks and pens into the small book bag as best you can. Your math textbook peaks out at the top and you can’t zip it all the way. You want to throw it at the wall, you’re so frustrated. What a shitty day it’s been.

Your phone buzzes as you walk through the door. You open it up to see a text from Shoto.

Shoto: Y/N. I don’t understand why you’re upset with me. Will you walk with me back to the dorms so we can discuss your feelings?

Ugh. You totally knew this was coming. You turn and see Shoto packing up his own bag back in the classroom. There are a few other stragglers from Class A – you watch as he attempts to hang back. He looks up at you and finally catches your eye. He looks sad, his expressive eyes shining with more than a little hurt. You nod at him before turning back down to your phone.

Y/N: Of course, I’ll wait for you outside of the classroom.

You loiter outside the classroom door for a moment, nodding at your classmates as they pass through the threshold and make their way back to the dorm building. Shoto is the last to exit; his fine brown leather backpack slung over one shoulder. The bright afternoon sunlight shines through the hallway windows and dances upon his fair face. It highlights the bright scar that encircles his left eye, giving it an almost fiery glow. He’s so gorgeous he could be a model.

“I saw you got your ass kicked by Tokoyami today.” You try to joke, but the comment just comes out lame. The two of you start making your way towards the exit, the sunlight streaming across your bare arms and wrapping you in a glow of warmth. The feeling is oddly comforting. You take a few steadying breaths as you prepare yourself for a tough conversation.

“Yes. I was distracted. I saw Shoji throw you to the ground and I was worried that you were hurt.” Shoto says, straightforward as ever. He fixes his gaze on the hallway ahead, not daring to look over at you.

A flicker of anger and madness licks at your insides. You try taking a deep breath to keep your emotions at bay, but you almost can’t help yourself when you snap out: “You can’t worry about me like that. I can hold my own in battle. I got into UA on my own merits, after all.” A beat. “You need to trust that I can handle myself.”

You’re on edge and upset at yourself, and once again today you’re taking it out on poor Shoto. “I’m not some damsel in distress. I’m going to be a hero.” You say with feeling, adjusting your backpack so the straps don’t dig into your shoulders as much. Damn, you’ve got too many books crammed into this thing.

Shoto is silent for a moment. He turns to stare out one of the large sunlit windows, gathering his thoughts. You give him some time. He takes a deep breath before he turns back towards you, his eyes bright.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Y/N. Is that why you’re mad at me – do you feel that I’ve been underestimating your abilities? Because I assure you its quite the opposite. I hold you in such a high regard, you are nothing but impressive to me.” He turns so he can focus his full attention on you, his mismatched eyes fit to burn a hole through your heart. The kind words roll off of his tongue sweet like honey, and you believe him. He thinks so highly of you. You’ve always known this. And yet, you needed him to repeat it. You need to be reminded, or else the anxious thoughts will have you in a chokehold.

“I truly think you are amazing.” At his words, the prickly anxious energy surrounding your heart and mind dissipates a bit.

“Shoto…I’m not mad at you. I’m not even sure how to explain why I was so dismissive of you this morning.” You say, trying your best to pin down a few of the swirling thoughts in your mind.

“Can you try?” He asks softly. “Recovery Girl said that I should be direct and ask questions. I would like to have an open line of communication with you, because I care about you and it has been hurting me all day that I can’t understand the way you’re feeling. Are you willing to discuss this?”

“Of course Shoto.” You say, trying to come up with the right words to describe your feelings. Your whole body aches from your sparring session with Shoji, and you’re so tired you feel like you could shut your eyes and fall asleep where you stand. Talking about feelings is the absolute last thing you want to do right now, but Shoto deserves an explanation and an apology. You try to adjust your backpack straps again, but it does nothing to alleviate the stiffness in your back.

“Here, Y/N. I know you’re a strong hero and that you can hold your own, but please let me help you with your backpack. It looks uncomfortable.” Shoto reaches out and slips the backpack strap off your shoulders. You feel instant relief – you lift your arms high over your head and feel your shoulders crack as you stretch out the muscles.

“Thank you. I’m not feeling my best.” You continue to run through some basic stretches and roll out your muscles as you explain how shocked you were to see the text from Momo come through the night before. “I wasn’t snooping on your phone, I promise. I would never violate your privacy like that. But I flipped it over and saw the message. I misinterpreted Momo’s text…I thought that when she said you’d left your sweatshirt in her room…well I thought it implied that the two of you had hooked up.”

Shoto’s eyes grow round with surprise, his eyebrows shoot up into his neat two toned hair. “You thought that Momo and I…?”

“Yeah. My imagination and my anxiety went into overdrive and I was up all night wrecked with worry.”

“But Y/N, I told you that I only want to be intimate with you. What reason would I have to lie to you?”

“Anxiety is a brutal thing. I spiraled out of control and assumed the worst. And then when you had a perfectly reasonable explanation for why your sweatshirt was in her room…I was ashamed at how upset and needy I let myself get over the whole thing.” You hang your head in shame, unable to look him straight in the face. “I was up most of the night anxious about the situation and I let it consume me. I was mad at myself, and I took it out on you. I’m so sorry Shoto, that was wrong of me.” Your eyes focus on the floor beneath you.

“Y/N.” You feel Shoto’s hand reach out to take your own. It’s his cool hand – it feels refreshing to have your fingers wrapped around each other in the sunny glare of the wide UA windows. “It’s alright. I’m not upset with you. That makes a lot of sense, and now I understand why you feel the way you do. But I hope you believe me when I say I only want to be intimate that way with you.” He rubs his thumb across your hand lightly, the gentle touch sending goose bumps up your arms. “I like Momo as a friend – but that’s all. I promise.” He squeezes your hand lightly, a physical manifestation of his assurance.

You look up into Shoto’s face and his gaze is open, warm. He repeats: “I’m not upset with you.”

“But you should be!” You burst out, nerves still buzzing. “I was so cold to you this morning, and I clearly hurt your feelings.” You pause, your emotions welling up and bubbling too close to the surface for comfort. “And…and I’m too much of a distraction to you. Ever since we started hooking up, you’ve been less engaged in class and in training. I just can’t stomach the thought of holding your hero training back because you’re too focused on me.”

This is clearly not what Shoto was expecting you to say, because his mouth hangs open in surprise. He stands in the hallway, flabbergasted.

The hallway is silent, save for simple notes of birdsong wafting through a nearby open window.

Shoto looks at you now, narrowing his eyes. “Hey, Y/N…I am going to ask you a question and I don’t want you to think I’m being demeaning here. But…when was the last time you had a full night’s sleep? You look exhausted.”

You blink at him, confused for a moment. But then you realize its true – you’re utterly drained and you haven’t gotten a good nights’ sleep all week. In between late night study sessions and your hookups with Shoto, you’ve really been burning the midnight oil. And then, of course, there’s the way you’d kept yourself up the night before agonizing over the text from Momo…

“It’s been a while.” You say slowly.

“I think that maybe you need to relax a bit. I’m not mad at you. You’re not distracting me. In fact, you’ve done nothing but enhance my life since we’ve started seeing each other more…intimately. You let me just be myself around you. I can’t convey to you how much that’s helped me lately. I need you to believe that.”

You nod. He’s being far too kind to you.

Shoto uses his free hand to check his phone for the time. You see his boring blue sky phone background light up briefly before he re-pockets the device.

“It’s 4:00 right now. Do you have time to rest before dinner?” He asks gently, squeezing your hand again.

“Yes. I don’t have anything planned until 8 o’clock tonight.” You say, thinking back to Mina’s note.

“Good. Then I’m escorting to your room and enforcing a mandatory nap.” He uncouples your hands and marches forward towards the dorms. You follow behind; head foggy with a mixture of exhaustion and relief. Shoto isn’t mad at you.

Within minutes, you’re back in the Class A dorms. Most of your classmates are scattered across the campus – fitting in some last minute training in the gym or working through homework in the library. You feel guilty – you should be in one of those places, too. You need to work towards your goal of becoming stronger, becoming a hero. You voice these concerns to Shoto as he leads you through the empty hallway and towards your dorm room.

“Heroes need rest, too.” He says simply, dismissing your worries with a wave of his hand. “How can you become stronger if your exhausted?” He has a point there.

You turn your key in the lock and push your door open. The two of you enter the tiny dorm and you lock the door behind you. Shoto places the two backpacks on the floor near your desk and turns to you expectantly.

“Where do you keep your comfortable clothes?”

“Um, in the second drawer on the right.” You direct.

He moves to your dresser and opens the aforementioned drawer, drawing out a pair of cream-colored sweatpants and a grey tank top. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the pieces are not a matching set. He tosses the outfit in your direction and tells you to change. Meanwhile, he grabs the water bottle off of your nightstand and walks to your tiny bathroom to fill it for you. You hastily change in his absence and throw your worn uniform in your hamper for washing.

Shoto returns with a full water bottle and a damp cloth. He sets the bottle back on your nightstand and tugs you to your bed. You pull down the covers and climb up into the fluffy monstrosity, tucking your cold feet under the covers.

Shoto climbs up with you and sits next to you. He brings the cloth to your face – it’s damp with warm water. He lightly dabs at your cheeks, eyebrows and forehead, refreshing your skin in an insanely sweet gesture. “My mom used to do this for me before I went to bed.” He mumbles under his breath. “It always helped me sleep better.”

When he’s done, he presses a kiss to your forehead. You flush at the tenderness of his actions, overwhelmed with gratitude but feeling unworthy of his gentle attention.

“Drink some water.” He says before sliding off the bed and moving to ring out the cloth in the bathroom sink. You oblige, grabbing your water bottle and taking several large gulps of the cool liquid.

You feel ten times more relaxed than you had in class today. The loose clothes feel comforting on your aching body, and your face feels fresh and clean from Shoto’s attention. You lay your head down on your soft pillow and exhale deeply.

Shoto exits the bathroom, shaking the excess water from his hands.

“I’m sorry to be such a burden to you, Shoto.”

Shoto looks at you with a piercing gaze, almost angry.

“Y/N. I care about you – it is not a burden to take care of you when you need it. All I ask is that you are more open with your feelings next time. Don’t bottle things up and keep me in the dark.” He walks over to his book bag and reaches inside to grab one of your English class books – The Great Gatsby.

“Alright…I can be more open with you for sure. I’m sorry I was so harsh and mysterious this morning, I was processing too much and I got myself all worked up thinking that you and Momo had…well, you know.”

“Momo and I are good friends. You and I are also good friends but we have a more intimate relationship. There is nothing to be jealous about. As I said - I don’t care for Momo in the same way that I care for you.” He states simply, climbing back up beside you with his book in hand. “Here, turn onto your side and I can use my quirk as a heating pad on your back like last time.”

“You sure? I don’t need you to go to all this trouble…” You trail off as you feel his calloused hand works its way under your tank top. He spreads his fingertips wide as he cradles your lower back in his powerful hand. You feel him slowly start to modulate his temperature and the heat feels delightful against your aching muscles.

“Let me do nice things for you. I want you to relax. Now close your eyes and take a nap – I’ll wake you up before dinner.” He settles in next to you and you turn onto your side to give him better access to your back. He adjusts his position and props himself up against a few of your plushies. He flips his book open with his free hand and starts to read, brow furrowed in concentration.

You drift off, drawing comfort from the heat of Shoto’s left hand. You feel your muscles relaxing into his warm touch, the pains of the day melting like butter on a hot plate. You stretch out your legs into a more comfortable position and bury your face into your pillow.

“Thanks Shoto.” You sigh, letting your heavy eyelids drop. You feel so comfortable and safe; it’s not hard to let yourself fall into a soft, dreamless sleep.

True to his word, Shoto wakes you up two and a half hours later with a gentle shake of your shoulder. You blink up at him, bleary eyed. He smiles down at you, eyes soft as ever. It’s funny that you’ve never really noticed this – his face can be so blank and stoic, but all of the emotion shines through his pretty mismatched eyes.

“Did you have a good nap?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your brow before getting to his feet.

“Yeah…I feel like a totally new person.” You say. And its true – you feel refreshed and 90% better than you had earlier this afternoon. Your training aches and pains are still present, but have subsided a bit under Shoto’s gentle heat. Shoto hands you your water bottle and encourages you to take a few more gulps before getting out of bed. You indulge him, making a show of draining the bottle before you slide out from under the covers. You stand and wrap your arms around him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. “Thank you Shoto.”

Shoto returns the hug, taking care to run his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture. “We take care of each other.” He says simply.

“How’s the book?” You ask as he breaks the hug and walks to his backpack, tucking his copy of The Great Gatsby amongst his notebooks.

“I finished it.” He says, scooping the bag up and onto his shoulders. “I don’t want to spoil the ending for you, but I’ll say this – it’s not a happy book.”

“Oh. Well I wasn’t really looking forward to it anyway. I much prefer sci-fi to the classics.” This seems to surprise Shoto, his eyebrows quirk up into his bangs in a gesture that’s rapidly becoming familiar.

“Sci-fi? Wow, I learn new things about you every day.” His tone is filled with surprise. “You’ll have to lend me one of your favorites sometime.” He checks the time on his phone, his factory default background glowing in the lowlight. “I should get going so I can drop my bag off in my room before dinner.”

“Hold on a sec – can I see your phone?” You hold out your hand, palm open. He looks at you for a moment, curious.

“Is this something to do with YaMomo again?” He asks, handing you the device.

“Not at all – I just noticed you have a basic-ass phone background. I think we need to change it to be more you, ya know?” You say, opening his Internet browser app and going to Google images.

“Oh, I’ve never really thought about that before.” He says, leaning to look over your shoulder curiously. “What are you thinking?”

“I feel like lately when we talk you’ve revealed that you like ocean creatures. That whale pillow on Pinterest? The Squirtle plushie? You seem to really like the sea vibe.” You say, typing a quick prompt into the search bar under Todoroki’s watchful eye.

“Huh, that’s true. I find the ocean to be very calming. And the creatures are usually cute.” He wraps his arms around you from behind as the image results populate on the screen. “Oh – I like that one a lot.” He points at a tiny thumbnail image and you click to expand it. It’s an old Lisa Frank design depicting two dolphins leaping out of crystal blue water. The art features a rainbow background of colorful corals and palm trees. It’s vibrant and filled with energy, and seems to fill Shoto with excitement as he buzzes behind you eagerly.

“Oh, I like that one too! All the colors are really nice. Let’s see how it looks as your phone background.” You smile as you save the image and set it as Shoto’s phone screen. He gives you a brief squeeze around the middle as he hugs you, bringing his chin down to rest on your shoulder as he watches you work your tech wizardry. You feel warm and fuzzy inside – Shoto is truly opening up to you. It feels like each day you chip away at his stoic exterior to reveal bits and pieces of his true self.

You hold up the phone and he unfurls an arm from where he’s holding you. He brings the phone to his face and smiles down at his new technicolor dolphin lock screen. You reach up a hand to cup his cheek tenderly and he leans into the touch.

“Thanks, Y/N. I really like this.” He says, turning his phone every which way to admire the artwork. He’s always surprising you. You’re happy he’s starting to get comfortable showing off his true self.

“Of course, Shoto. You should surround yourself with things that make you happy!” You feel your stomach growl and you remember that dinner is only minutes away. “We should really get going, shouldn’t we?” You both laugh as your tummy rumbles again.

Shoto unwinds his from around your stomach and gets to his feet. “Mind checking to see if the coast is clear? I’ll drop off my bag in my room and then see you at the common area.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You slide off the bed, unlock the door and peer out into the hallway. Thankfully, there’s no one in sight. You have a feeling that most of the class is already down in the common area assisting with dinner preparations.

“All clear.” You give Shoto a goofy little salute before opening the door wide for him to exit. He smiles and leans down to place a kiss on your cheek before booking it down the hallway. He hits the staircase and he’s out of sight in a blink of an eye.

You smile and head back inside your room, moving to change into a top that better matches your sweatpants. It feels nice to be taken care of. You wonder how Shoto knew exactly what you needed in order to feel better. Sometimes he seems so…out of touch. And yet, as soon as you need something he seems to lock in and know just what to do. You suspect that’s the true mark of a hero – seeing someone in need and figuring out a way to help. Who would have thought that Shoto Todoroki would become your own personal hero!?

In the dorm, Class A takes turns cooking with everyone rotating meal prep responsibilities. Tonight, Bakugo, Kirishima and Ida are handling the meal and you know it will be delicious. For some reason, Katsuki has some insane cooking skills. The smell of cooking vegetables wafts up from the kitchen and your stomach growls again in response. You leave your room, ambling down to meet the rest of your class in the kitchen area.

You feel much lighter, much happier. Shoto Todoroki is a goddamn prince of a man.

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“Alright, Mineta. We need you to do this for us.”

It’s 8:05 pm and you, Toru, Mina, Nieto Monoma and Minoru Mineta are all holed up in a study room within the Geography section of UA’s oversized library. Nieto purposefully chose this location for your clandestine rendezvous because “no one at this school studies goddamn geography, so it’s the perfect secret meeting spot.”

Mina had invited Mineta with a secret post it note as well. She had passed him a hot pink note in between classes. The note had implied that the two would be having a private meeting to discuss the “raw romantic tension between them.” Needless to say, Mineta had been extremely disappointed to find you, Toru and Nieto all waiting alongside Mina in the geography study room.

After a few not-so-sincere apologies, Nieto and Toru had gotten right to the heart of the matter and explained their master plan and Mineta’s potential role in it. The small purple classmate had listened intently; nodding as Toru unrolled schematics and Nieto explained timing and strategy. He seems genuinely interested in the party plot, and for a moment you think that he might say yes and help you all pull this off.

“What’s in it for me?” Ah, there’s the kicker alright. He looks around at you all expectantly.

Mina crosses her arms and stares him down. “The gratitude of our class and the joy of knowing you helped out your classmates.”

“No way. I want something out of this.” He rubs his hands together, scheming. “If I’m going to participate in this crazy ass plan so that you all can throw some stupid party, I better get something out of it. So here’s my price - 7 minutes in heaven. With each of you.” He looks at Mina challengingly.

“First of all – that’s 21 minutes in heaven. And second of all – majorly GROSS!” Toru bursts out, turning to you for confirmation. You shake your head in disgust as well, ready for Mina to jump in and negotiate terms.

“Absolutely not.” Your pink friend says, her antenna bristling.

“You’re not really in a position to be negotiating, are you?” Mineta leers up at you all. “After all, you need something from me. You should be grateful I’m even thinking about helping out with your crazy scheme considering how much trouble you got our class in last time.”

Mina makes a sour face. Honestly, he kind of has a point.

“7 minutes in heaven is off the table. Name something else.” She spits out, her dark eyes murderous.

“Fine. I get a kiss from each of you. And I get to grope Hagakure’s ass at least once.”

“What!! Why my ass!?” Toru explodes, waving her arms in upset.

Mineta salivates. “Because I have no idea how juicy it is. Just give me one good squeeze so I can truly know.”

“You absolute perv!” Toru roars, reaching out to grab Mineta and give him a good thrashing. You catch your friend’s invisible hands before she can rain down terror on the little miscreant.

“Hey you’re the ones who want to play Spin The Bottle and watch our classmates kiss. You’re just as pervy as me.” Mineta levels you all with a superior look. “I bet Monoma here is getting something good out of this deal, so why shouldn’t I?” He gestures up at Monoma, who up until now has stayed completely silent. This is all part of Mina’s strategy. Ahead of the meeting, she had advised Nieto to keep his talking to a minimum since its likely Mineta wouldn’t trust him.

“What are they promising you in exchange for your help?” The little creep asks Nieto.

“That’s none of your business.” You say, squaring up to your classmate. You decide to play into his insecurities. All’s fair in love and war, right!?

“Look, Mineta. We need your help to get this party off the ground. You’re the only one who can do this job, and it would mean the world to all of our classmates if you went through with it. You’d literally be hailed as the coolest guy in our class. Isn’t that enough? You don’t exactly have the most social clout at the moment.”

Mineta looks at you for a long minute, clearly weighing all of his options. He seems unfazed by your comment about his “coolness” factor.

“Nope. I want whatever he’s getting.” He points at Monoma, who gives him an unhinged look.

“You Class A stooges are so entitled!” He booms, laughing a bit maniacally. Mina smacks the back of his head to give him a hard reset.

“Stay with us, Nieto.” She turns back to Mineta. “Okay in the spirit of transparency, we are helping Monoma get a kiss during Spin The Bottle. To keep things fair, we can guarantee one kiss for you as well. Tell us who you want to kiss, and it will be delivered upon successful completion of work.”

“Heh.” Mineta smirks evilly. “Fine, I accept your terms. For my kiss I choose…Y/N!” He points directly at you, blood dripping from his nose.

You look at your friends and shrug. Unenthusiastically you say: “Fine. Why not.”

“My ass thanks you.” Toru squeaks out, covering her behind with invisible hands. Nieto glares down at Mineta in disgust, but lets you continue to do the talking.

“If this will get our party off the ground, I’m willing to do it.” You look down at Mineta. “Here are the conditions – It’s gonna be a single kiss. Lips closed, no tongue. No groping. No touching. Lips only. Got that?”

Mineta nods eagerly. “Don’t worry. Once you get one taste of these lips, you’ll be begging for more.” He turns back to Mina, awaiting instructions. “So what do you need me to do?”

You all return to the dorms forty minutes later, with plenty of time to get back to your separate rooms before the curfew takes effect.

A battle plan has been drawn out, and commitments have been made. You have a sour taste in your mouth at the thought of your eventual kiss with Mineta, but sacrifices must be made. After all, the fate of the party of the century hangs in the balance.

You make a mental note to make sure that Shoto is cool with all of this – after all, it would be super hypocritical for you to be jealous of Shoto’s non-existent relationship with YaMomo, and then to turn around and give another guy a peck on the mouth.

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When you finally make it back to your dorm, you’re riding an absolute high. You and your friends are planning the biggest secret party in UA history, and with the kickass strategy you all have developed, you anticipate the whole thing going off without a hitch. Monoma truly is a genius – you can’t wait to see his tightly orchestrated plan come to life. The man truly loves pulling all the strings behind the scenes.

Thanks to your nap, you’re feeling a bit more rested and energized. You text Shoto.

Y/N: Hey Shoto, you up?

Shoto: It’s only 9. Of course I’m awake.

Y/N: Have time to come through? I want to properly thank you for taking care of me earlier.

Shoto: I just finished some homework, I can come over for a bit before curfew.

Y/N: Perf! I have the perfect idea of how I can return the favor and TAKE CARE OF YOU! 👀

Shoto: I’m nervous. The all caps coming from you is aggressive.

Y/N: That was supposed to be cute and flirty 😉 Don’t be scared!! ☠️

Shoto: Ok. I’ll be down in 5.

True to his word, Shoto arrives in a timely fashion. He slips through your unlocked door like a ghost in the night.

“Hey, Y/N. How was your meeting with Mina and…?”

His jaw drops in surprise when he looks up to find you in nothing but your bra and panties. It’s a matching set – midnight blue and lacy around the edges. You’re feeling bold.

“I was trying to think of a way that I could properly thank you for taking such good care of me earlier…” You trail off, reaching behind him to turn the lock to your door.

“…And I came up with an idea. Get on the bed?” You ask sweetly. Shoto wastes no time obeying your request. He hurriedly scrambles onto the bed with the speed of a teenage boy who’s been promised a sexual favor. You climb up after him, lifting the hem of his t-shirt suggestively.

“Clothes off.” You say, tugging at the shirt a bit to see a flash of his perfect stomach before dropping the fabric from your fingertips.

Shoto doesn’t need telling twice – he strips, pulling the shirt over his head with lightening fast reflexes. His perfectly toned abs glow under the fairy lights, and you lick your lips at the sight. He hurriedly slips his sweatpants down his hips and takes them off one leg at a time, still managing to look graceful despite his frantic energy.

He throws his pants out onto the floor, out of sight. He’s wearing a pair of loose grey boxer shorts, his hardening cock already visible through the thin fabric. You reach out a hand to trace along the outline of his pulsing member, causing him to get even stiffer under your teasing touch. He looks down at you with that heaven-piercing gaze. Perfect.

You lean towards him, ghosting gentle kisses along the curve of his pale neck.  “What do you want Shoto?” You breathe wetly into his ear, running your hand down his bare chest. “Tell me, and I’ll make it happen.” You hear Shoto’s breath catch in his throat at the implication. An open ended offer is a valuable thing – you wonder how he’ll use it?

“I’m thinking…maybe you could do that thing with your hands again?” He says sheepishly, pupils blown wide as he watches you palm at his dick over his boxers.

“You mean a hand job? Are you asking for a hand job?” You say, laughing, as he blushes crimson as his hair.

“I guess I am.” He says, breathing shakily. He leans down into your hair and mumbles “It feels so much better when you do it. I’ve been trying to replicate it on my own but…it’s just not the same.”

You smile. “I can definitely do that for you. Tell me, how badly do you want it?” You ask in a tone that’s barely above a whisper. You squeeze his package lightly over the boxers. He almost moans at the touch.

“I want it…so badly Y/N. Please.”

The light begging sparks something in your core and you’re already so wet you fear you may soak through your panties. Again. Wow, this is becoming quite a bad habit of yours.

“Take off the boxers.” You command softly, and Shoto accommodates – stripping down to nothing. Once again, here is thisa beautiful man buck naked in your bed. It’s enough to make you see fireworks behind your eyes.

He sits there, fully exposed, his cock hard and laying flush against his taught muscled stomach. You long to reach out and take him in your hand, but you know you know you need to be patient.

“Shoto, you said you’ve been trying to replicate the hand job I gave you?” You ask amiably. He nods. “I want you to show me how you like to do it on your own. Show me how you touch yourself, Sho.”

He glances up at you uncertainly through thick lashes, looking between you and his cock with trepidation. “Are you sure? Would that not be…weird?”

“Not at all!” You reassure him. “It’s the best way for me to learn how to pleasure you. I want to see what you like so I can add it into the mix. It’s like hero training – we need to learn from each other to be the best we can be.”

This analogy makes perfect sense to Shoto, who understands the importance of training. “Alright. If it would help. But I feel pretty self-conscious right now.”

“That’s perfectly understandable.” You say, placing another string of kisses to his jawline. “Try not to be too nervous. Remember - we’re just having fun and exploring, right?” You pause. “Plus…it would be really fuckin’ hot to see you jerk yourself off in my bed. So know that I’m completely and totally into this. If that helps.”

This makes Shoto smile. “It actually does help.” He laughs softly, turning his head to capture your lips in a brief smooch.

“Right.” Shoto says, drawing in a shaky breath. He looks at you nervously, before glancing down at his erect cock once more. He reaches for it, wraps his fingers around himself and gives a light tug. You watch as he slowly starts stroking at himself, concentrating a bit more on the head here and there. He glances up at you from time to time, letting his eyes roam across your breasts and the gentle curves of your hips.

You move the straps of your bra off your shoulders, giving him a bit of a show before you reach behind you to unclip the bra all together. You toss the fabric to the floor in what’s rapidly becoming a familiar gesture with Shoto. His breath hitches in the back of his throat as his eyes take in your perfect breasts. He picks up his pace, jerking himself off in a succinct rhythm as his eyes devour your chest.

“Come here.” He groans. You scoot towards him in the bed.

“What do you want?” You ask, voice soft but demanding.

“I want your breasts in my mouth. Right now.” He says, not breaking stride as he continues to work at his rock hard cock.

You reposition yourself so that you’re slightly above him and you lean forward. He can’t help himself – before you’ve settled into a comfortable position, he’s captured one of your nipples in his mouth. He suckles on it, using his tongue and teeth to tease the delicate flesh. The pleasure that shoots through you is unquantifiable. You lean into his mouth and your eyes flutter shut as he uses his free hand to give attention to your other tit. The gratification is so good you hope he never stops.

But then you remember – you have a goddamn plan here. You should be watching and learning to see what Shoto likes. Your eyes fly open and you try to ignore the absolutely incredible things this Todoroki blessing is doing to your breasts.

“Shoto…” You try to get his attention. He looks up at you from down where he’s sucking on your tit and cocks and eyebrow questioningly.

“Mmm?”

“Shoto, this is fucking hot, but I’m trying to concentrate. Please – show me what you like and talk me through it.” You try to keep your voice as level as possible, even as he pinches a nipple and rubs the pad of his thumb over the delicate nub with his free hand. After a quick moment, comprehension dawns in his eyes and his mouth releases your boob with a wet “pop!”

“Sorry, I got carried away.” His face is red with embarrassment as you slide to sit next to him.

“Don’t be. I like it when you get carried away. You’re so goddamn hot Sho.” You plant a kiss on his cheek. “Now get back to it – and talk me through what you like.”

Shoto looks down at his cock and resumes stroking it. “So I hold my hand like this around it, see?” He demonstrates how he keeps a loose closed grip around his dick, sliding his hand along the base for a few deep strokes before concentrating around the head. “This part is the most sensitive, so when I want to finish I concentrate a lot here. But first I work myself up by starting down here.” He moves his hand down to the base of his dick to show you. “And I’ll tease myself a little as I work back up to the top.”

“Sometimes, I like to touch my…um…testicles a bit. It feels really nice to kind of…uh this is super awkward to explain…it feels good to move them around?”

“I think I understand.” You say, watching as he shows you how he likes to be played with. You let him work at himself until you see shiny beads of pre-cum form at the head of his cock.

“Okay, my turn to drive.” You say, reaching to shoo Shoto’s steady hand out of the way so that you can replace it with your own. “There we go.” You wrap your hand around his hard cock and start at the base the way he explained. You slowly roll your hand midway up his shaft before bringing it back down to the base. Shoto sighs at the motion, his hips flexing in a way that implies that he’s dying to thrust up into your hand.

You continue to tease him that way, coming closer and closer to the sensitive tip of his cock without truly touching it. You can tell by the expressions stretched across his face that he simultaneously loves and hates what you’re doing to him. You grin; enjoying the control you have as you edge him.

With your free hand, you reach down to fondle his balls, trying to mimic the motion he showed you. There’s a sharp intake of breath when you start to shift his package around, and you can tell from the way he bites back a moan that it must feel so, incredibly good to be touched this way.

Finally, you release his cock and bring your small hand to your mouth. You make a show of licking the palm of your hand before spitting cleanly into it. Shoto’s eyes widen in surprise at the crude gesture, but his cock twitches in anticipation.

You bring your spit-filled hand down to his dick and resume jerking him off – this time starting low at the base and continuing all the way up to the tip. Your saliva allows for your hand to slide and glide in a delicious way that it hadn’t previously. Shoto lets out a curse followed by your name at the feeling.

“Fuck, Y/N. Holy fucking fuck.” It’s the most you’ve ever heard him curse, and the lilt of his lust filled voice is absolutely sinful. You grin like a Cheshire cat as you stroke him the way he showed you, focusing on the sensitive head. His breathing is ragged, and he’s absolutely wrecked as you continue to run your lubed up hand along the very tip of his rigid member. “Shit. Y/N. I’m going to - ”

Shoto orgasms hard - thick waves of hot cum shooting up and flowing over your delicate hand as you continue to work at him. His legs jerk with the suddenness of his climax. His breath hitches in his throat and you fear that he’s stopped breathing as his hips roll up, thrusting his cock into your grip over and over and over. You use your hand to milk him for all that he’s worth, being sure to mimic the way that you had watched him grip his dick earlier in his demonstration. The expression on his face is priceless – his eyes are wide and filled with an expression of rapture, his mouth caught open in a small “o.”

Whatever you’re doing seems to be doing the trick, because it is quite a bit before he catches his breath and politely removes your hand from his spent, pulsing cock. He’s over stimulated and panting, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N, that was…” He’s still breathing heavy.

You reach across him to grab a conveniently placed washcloth off of your nightstand (you had a feeling that you’d be needing some cleanup supplies tonight). You wipe the sticky mess from your hand before giving him the cloth. He gratefully accepts, wiping the cum that’s pooled along the defined planes of his stomach and in the well of his bellybutton. “That was incredible. You take direction so well.” He says, his voice a bit fuzzy around the edges as he drops his head back to rest on your pillow.

You lay back with him, moving your clean hand to stroke his hair slowly. He leans into the touch, eyes heavy and half lidded as he comes down from his high.

“I’m a fast learner.” You say, enjoying the soft texture of his fluffy hair as you flutter your fingers through his dense locks. You lay there for a few minutes, playing with  Shoto’s hair and letting him bask in the afterglow. He’s completely naked and gorgeous in the glow of your fairy lights, his pale skin rippling with muscle.

“It’s almost curfew…you’d better get going in case Mr. Aizawa makes a bed check appearance.” You say with regret, wishing Shoto could stay with you through the night.

Shoto turns his head and groans into your shoulder. “But I want to stay here forever. It’s so comfortable here with your hands in my hair. And I’m so tired now.” He almost whines. You smile – a month ago you would have never thought Shoto Todoroki capable of whining. 

“I wish you could stay, too.” You coo, continuing to card your fingers through his mismatched locks.

“I like it here. Maybe I’ll move in. Stake claim on all of your plushes.” He reaches out and grabs his favorite plush from behind your head. He holds it close to your face and waves it up and down a few times, pretending to make it dance. “Squirtle, Squirtle.” He says in a strained, warbley voice. You giggle at his goofy attempt at mimicking the water Pokémon.

Afterglow Shoto sure is chatty. He looks so open and relaxed, his facial features at rest.

“Oh my God Shoto…did you finally look up Pokémon!?”

He hugs the plush to his bare chest and laughs. “I watched 12 episodes. I had to keep watching until Squirtle showed up. I would give my life for the Squirtle Squad.”

This cracks you up. You laugh even harder when you look up and see the way that Shoto is sprawled across your bed – completely naked except for the large Squirtle plush clutched to his chest. You point at him and make a little choked squeak. He realizes how ridiculous he looks and soon you’re both in hysterics, gasping for breath. It’s a wonder that no one has knocked on your door yet and asked you to quiet down.

After a few minutes you both calm down enough to catch your breath. You slide off the bed and scoop Shoto’s grey boxers off the ground and toss them in his direction. He drops Squirtle for a moment so he can shimmy into his underwear. Partially clothed once more, he flops on his back and pulls the covers up to his chin. He tucks Squirtle in beside him. You move to get back into the bed and join him, but he holds up a hand and puts on a serious expression. “Sorry – there’s no room for you. This bed is for card carrying members of the Squirtle Squad only.”

You smile and then paste a theatrical pout on your face. “You goof. How does one apply for Squirtle Squad membership?”

“Hmm.” Shoto brings his hand to his chin as if deep in thought. “You need to pay our membership dues. It’ll cost you a kiss.”

“That’s pretty expensive.”

“Squad Membership is well worth the fee, I promise.” He nods stoically, looking over at the Squirtle plush beside him. “Squirtle can confirm.” He gestures at the plush, which stares up at you blankly with its large embroidered eyes.  

“What does Squad Membership include?” You ponder aloud, pretending to think it over.

“If you join up now, I’ll act as your official heat and ice pack.” Shoto holds up both hands above his face as an offering. “And I’ll make you cum whenever you want.”

“Whenever I want?” You repeat. “Now that’s an intriguing offer. I think I’ll take it.” You lean down and cup his soft cheek in your hand, bringing his mouth to yours. Your lips melt into his and you kiss him soundly. He moans into your mouth, moving his lips softly against your own.

It’s wonderful to be with him like this – so open and having fun like regular teenagers. There’s no pressure to put on a brave face and to be strong heroes in training. In these stolen moments, its okay to just be. You break the kiss and pull yourself up into he bed and under the comforter. Within seconds, you’re wrapped up in Shoto’s arms and he pulls you against his bare chest.

“Welcome to the Squad. Your membership is approved.” He places a kiss on your forehead and you snuggle into him. You take a deep breath, letting your tired body relax against Shoto’s solid warmth. 

You lay in silence for a bit, just enjoying each others company. Shoto’s breathing is slow and even. You can tell he’s feeling comfortable and relaxed after his orgasm. He nuzzles his face into your shoulder and huffs into the curve of your neck. After a bit, Shoto gets too warm and uncouples himself from you so he can pull down the comforter a bit.

“You know, I was thinking…” Shoto rolls over onto his back and crosses his arms behind his head. He’s partially naked and gorgeous in the glow of your fairy lights, his pale skin rippling with muscle. He looks up at the ceiling. “Summer training camp is coming up. I heard that this year we are going for 2 weeks. They plan to put us through a week and a half of training, and then we’ll get a few days just to have fun and enjoy being outside. There will be hiking, and campfires…maybe the two of us can sneak off and just have some time together? No curfews, no whispering. No hiding away.” He turns his head to look at you.

“That sounds really, really nice.” You say, reaching over to give him a big boop on his nose. He smiles at the contact. You love seeing him like this – usually he is so closed off and stoic. Every smile you can get out of him is a prize in itself. “I doubt we’ll truly be able to sneak off given how large and damn nosy our class is…but we can definitely try.”

Shoto closes his eyes, a blissful expression etched across his features. “I just picture the two of us on a moonlit hike, just able to enjoy the scenery together. We can listen to the cicadas and the crickets in the quiet of the dark. It’s such a calming thought in my mind. I’d like to share that moment of peace with you.”

“Orgasms make you talk nonsense.” You joke, trying to ignore the way that your heart is squeezing at his words.

He opens his eyes and scans your face. “You’d like that, though?”

“Of course I would, Shoto. It would be nice to get out of the city and to see some greenery. To be together outside of our dorm rooms. I wish that we didn’t need to sneak around so much…I wish that we were older and that we could just do whatever we want without consequence.” You say wistfully, reaching to grab your phone and check the time. “Crap, it’s nearly 10.”

Shoto pulls you into another embrace, shifting his hands around you so he can cradle your breasts. He plays with your nipples a bit, swirling his fingertips around them delicately. You gasp at the contact, your pussy instantly responding to the touch.  “I can’t go yet – I haven’t made you cum.” Shoto whispers thickly into your ear, pinching a nipple with each hand. You make a strangled sort of noise, sliding a hand down between your legs to give your clit a brief pulse to sate the hungry way its pulsing beneath the smooth fabric of your panties.

“Shoto…if you stay any longer and Aizawa comes around, we’re gonna get caught.” You say in a pained voice as he continues to play with your tits. You can’t let this go any further or you both are done for. “Shoto, you’ve gotta go.”

“But it’s not fair if I don’t make you - ” You move to regretfully remove his wandering hands from your boobs.

“I can take care of it myself this time.” You say, in a sultry tone. “And I’ll think of you the whole time.” You turn to look over your shoulder to see Shoto’s face has gone beat red at the implication that you’ll be spending the rest of the evening masturbating to thoughts of him.

He lets out a shaky breath, still clearly uncomfortable with the thought of leaving you hanging. “Alright, Y/N. But next time, the focus is all on you to make up for it. Okay?”

“I think I can live with that.” You smile, and reach behind you to give him a light shove to leave.

Shoto grins softly as he untangles himself from you, climbing over your body to get out of the bed. His feet hit the ground and he stretches languidly before reaching for his abandoned clothes. He pulls his shirt and pants on unceremoniously as you watch, laughing at the way his soft sweatpants stretch back into place over the smooth curve of his ass.

“You’re too cute.” You say, reaching to pull him back to the bed so you can give him one more quick kiss. He smiles into the smooch, wrapping his arms around you in a warm, steady embrace.

“I’ll text you?” He says softly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll make sure I take my phone back with me this time.” This earns a laugh.

“Please do.”

“Well, goodnight then.” He kisses your cheek and then makes his way to the door; he peaks out into the hallway before making his usual fast exit. You pray he doesn’t get caught by Aizawa again – he would probably demand an explanation from Shoto.

You lay in your bed, relaxed, staring up at your ceiling. Life sure has been complicated lately – between school, training, an unexpected romance, and the illicit party planning, you sure are having an adventure.

You allow yourself to replay a scene from earlier in your mind: “Fuck, Y/N. Holy fucking fuck.” Shoto curses as you stroke his cock mercilessly, bringing him to the brink of climax. “Shit. Y/N. I’m going to…”

You feel arousal twinge between your legs once again and you bring your fingers down to touch yourself over your panties. You wish Shoto was still here to help – all you can think of is the loving way that he sometimes uses his wet tongue to play with your nipples. You roll over onto your stomach so you can increase the pressure of your fingers against your clit. Mmm. You replay the image of Shoto’s pretty “O” face over and over again as you bring yourself to the brink of climax.

Before long, new thoughts are blooming into your brain. You imagine what it would be like to have Shoto’s fingers on you instead. What would it be like to feel that pretty cock slide inside of you - to be physically filled to the brim with Shoto Todoroki? You’ve never really fantasized about actual act of intercourse before, and you wonder how it would feel to be that connected with Shoto. You picture his voice pitching and sighing as he slides in and out of you, his strong hands bracing on your hips. The thought of Shoto’s thick cock sliding against your wet pussy causes your breath to stick in your throat. Your heart pulses impossibly fast as you use your fingertips to push yourself over the edge, gasping into your pillow. Oh fuck that’s good.

Shoto Todoroki and his hot body are truly going to be the death of you. You can picture your epitaph in your head – “Here lies Y/N. She was brought to the gates at heaven by Shoto Todoroki’s hard cock. May she rest in peace, having known what true ecstasy feels like.”

You smile at that unhinged thought. Your phone buzzes next to you and you flip around the screen to see a text from Shoto.

Shoto: I made it back to my dorm room. Did not get caught this time.

Shoto: Typing.

Shoto: Did you…take care of things?

Y/N: Haha yeah. I just finished. Was thinking about you the whole time.

Shoto replies with a single word.

Shoto: Fuck.

Shoto: Next time, I’ll take care of you myself. I promise.

Y/N: You've already taken care of me so much today, but I’ll hold you to that. ☺️ Goodnight, Shoto.

Shoto: Goodnight Y/N.

You put your phone back on your bedside table and snuggle up in your bed, pulling the Squirtle plush close to you and wishing that it were Shoto Todoroki.

End of Chapter.

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

HOLY GUACAMOLE!! This chapter ended up being 30 pages - I know in my last chapter post I said that Chapter 5 would focus on The Party - but y'all all of your reactions to the Chapter 4 cliff hanger made me want to create a more satisfying plot line surrounding the YaMomo text. In short - the comments you leave influence the story a lot more than you'd think! So I hope you enjoyed this chapter and Shoto's sweet way of taking care of the Reader. I try to make The Reader a pretty general character so that it's easy to self-insert, but she's kind of developing her own personality which is fun too!

Part 6 is already in the works and partially written. I have most of THE PARTY scenes drafted and typed out, and I'm really excited for you all to see what I've been cooking up for this story arc. I also want to lay the ground work for future arcs as well - I don't anticipate this tale ending any time soon! It seems to take me a month/month and a half to churn out each chapter, so please feel free to check out my other work on My Master List as you wait!

I have been so locked in on this Todoroki story that I've been neglecting one shots lately. I hope to finish a little Kirishima focused fic soon, plus I have an idea for a tale surrounding All Might (the working title is gonna be something like "United States of Smash that Ass" idk its gonna be goofy and All Might is gonna have a huge cock or something stupid like that). TLDR: Keep an eye on my blog for more fun content surrounding our other favorite heroes as you wait for Chapter 6!

As always, thank you thank you thank you for all of your positive comments, messages and reblogs of my work. This passion project has brought me so much joy and I love how much joy it seems to bring all of you. Thanks for joining me on this wild ride, excited to see all that happens next!

XoXo, Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

❄️🔥THE ICYTHOTS🔥❄️

Want to join or be removed from the tag list - let me know! Once again, this is an ADULT ONLY blog. The IcyThot club is exclusively dedicated to the Shoto's First Kiss series and will only include A18+. Do not request to be added unless you are over 18. I'm also adding the "sexual content" label/tags.

supersecretsamm luvsymai s0uldarling quackledoodleduck

bakugosgirl01 jeanbabygirl ninayourdad dumbdysstuff

duffyinwonderland purplesuunset brundark100 sh3752 erinalysa

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[wosoamazing]

Rescue

Barça Femeni x Teen!Reader (Mainly Alexia)

Based off of this request. (And also vaguely off of Lauren Daigle's song - more so just the title, but it kind of under lays the fic I guess.)

WARNINGS: Attempted Sexual Assault References (flack backs), Abusive Father (physical and emotional), drinking/drunk, slight mentions of implied sick (doesn't happen). Let me know if anything else

The team were always suspicious about your home life and what it was actually like but you always brushed them off when they questioned and no one had tried to push further until recently.

“Y/N, we missed you last night, what happened?” Lucy asked you as she walked in, most of the team following behind her.

“Oh, sorry I was going to message but I must’ve forgotten, I felt a little sick so I thought it was best to stay home,” you told them, causing Alexia to move towards you with her hand out, which you dodge, “but I’m fine now,” you smiled at your captain and she gave you a fake smile back.

That was far from the truth but you didn’t want to tell them what happened. You were in your room making some finishing touches before you left to go out with them, when one of your Dad’s friends had walked into your room, you thought you had locked your door but you must’ve forgotten. He walked up behind you and his body was pressed against yours before he slinked his hand up under your dress and brushed his hand over your upper thigh. You snapped around and punched him before you ran, you could hear him yelling at you afterwards, and you Dad yelling at him, but all you could do was run, and to the safe place you knew no one would come looking for you. Thanking the heavens above that Jona somehow gave you a pass that meant you could go to the training grounds at all times. You quickly got changed into your training kit and took off your makeup before setting an alarm on your phone and falling asleep on one of the couches.

That day during treatment you flinched every time one of the physios touched you, and when he moved his hand up to your thigh you felt your body tense up and your breath becoming laboured, when he applied pressure to start working you bolted straight out of the room, the touch bringing back all the feelings from the night before. You found yourself in a room, full of your teammates, who all worried over but when you finally calmed back down they all left except for one, your captain. Who gave you a pointed look as you made contact with her eyes.

“I’m fine” you reiterated to her for probably the 100th time that hour.

“You know you can talk to us anytime, about anything,” Alexia reassured you.

“Si, I do, but I don’t need to because I’m fine,” she gave you a very unconvincing nod before walking out, leaving you to be by yourself. The team knew you weren’t fine. You constantly showed up to training with bruises that were slightly too dark or too big to be caused by whatever your excuse had been that time, but you were clumsy so they never really questioned it. However Alexia had kept a mental note of when they happened and what your excuses were and she couldn't help but see that there was a pattern. Then there was the incident last week when you were calling some of them and your Dad started yelling at you, and calling you names. You tried to convince them that it was because he had tripped over because you had left your boots and bag and other stuff all over the floor which caused him to stub his toe, however they all felt that it was a very poor excuse to yell at your child in such a way but you just brushed them off.

One week later you found yourself laying on a yoga mat in the gym, you were flat on your back as you stared straight up at the ceiling. Alexia had come over and placed a mat down next to yours, she didn't say anything but just laid there next to you on her back, as the team filtered out to go to the pitch for training neither of you made an effort to move. 

Several different thoughts ran through your head as you laid there next to her for quite some time. You were having an internal battle in your head of whether you opened up to her or not, maybe she would help, maybe this wasn’t normal. But maybe she would tell you it was your fault, you had a short dress on that night, that was slightly slutty, were you asking for it? Had you deserved all of it, all the yelling, the hitting.

“He-he, tried to touch me,” you blurted out, one side of the fight winning, your words caused her to bolt straight up, sitting crossed legged on her mat facing you.

“Who did? Your Dad?” she asked.

“No one of his friends,” you said, shaking your head.

“Did he?” she asked, concerned. “No, not really, I mean he put his hand up my dress, he was leaning forward into me and he touched my thigh, but I quickly moved away from him and punched him and ran, while I was running he was saying something about reporting me for hitting him, but I don’t think he did because I could hear Dad saying something about them finding out if he did because the police would show up to the house,” you said as tears started to flow out of your eyes.

“Find what out?” Alexia asked, confused, wondering what had been happening.

“That he abuses me, they would see the holes in the walls from where he would try and punch me but miss, the shattered mirror that I glued back together, it smashed because he threw it at me, but they wouldn’t see the emotional things, they would only see the physical things. The name calling, the swearing, they couldn’t see that, it would be his word against mine,” you continued as your shoulders started to shake as your cries turned into harsh heavy sobs, “I’m sorry,” you cried out as you rolled over onto your stomach, head resting in your arms as a puddle formed on the underneath you.

“Oh Nena,” Alexia sighed as she went to place a hand on your back, “please don’t touch me,” you asked and she obeyed, quickly retracting her arm, “b-but, please, s-stay” you hesitantly asked her. You felt broken, like there was something wrong with you, how didn’t you notice it wasn’t normal. You thought you had a broken home but at the same time, you never spoke about it so maybe everyone had a broken home and just didn’t talk about it, but since being at Barça you slowly started to realise that what was happening in your home wasn’t normal and wasn’t okay, but it was normal to you, to you being called an idiot, or a stupid bitch was normal, being told you were too lazy or not good enough was normal, being scared to take a step in your own home was normal. Constantly living on the edge and not feeling comfortable in your own home was normal. It was normal in your extended family as well, you came from a long line of toxic men, there was no one to show you that what you were experiencing was abnormal, until now. Men drinking until they passed out was normal. Men controlling the house was normal. Women only dated Men, even in a different universe you would never see a Woman dating a Woman in your family. But somehow Barça had shown you this wasn’t normal.

Alexia’s heart ached as she watched sobs rack your body, she just wanted to hold you tight and tell you it would all be okay, but she couldn't. She had to respect your boundaries and give you some control back.

But you soon found yourself sitting in her lap, your body having gravitated to the warmth and safety she seemed to provide. Your hands clutched to her shirt.

“Nena, can I hug you?” She asked not wanting to do anything against your will, you nodded into her chest and she wrapped her arms around you. You suddenly felt safe, cared for, loved, it suddenly all came crashing down, this team loved you, you had never really experienced that before, and you broke down even more. You were now gasping for air as your body shook, Alexia’s concern for you was rapidly growing.

“Nena, I need you to breath, you’re going to make yourself sick,” She told you, “I-I can’t” you told her as you struggled to suck in air, “Yes, you can Nena, just in and out, focus on my chest moving up and now,” you managed to slightly calm down, but it was barely, your were still shaking and your sobs still racked your body, but you were no longer gasping for air. Alexia put her headphones over your ears and made sure to turn on the noise cancelling feature, she needed to call someone for help but didn’t want you to have to listen in, you didn’t mind, you kind of liked the quietness they provided you. She called Mapi.

Mapi, I need you and Ingrid to take me and Nena home now.

[frameacloud]

"DNI-Related Controlling Behaviors: The use of a DNI to try to enforce control over anyone who so much as ‘likes’ a post of theirs to an unhealthy degree, often backed up with social shaming, harassment, and callouts. The DNI may also be used as a social ‘trap’ to create an acceptable target for abuse. NOTE: While reasonable boundaries are good and DNIs are not by themselves red flags, this goes beyond reasonable boundaries and into unreasonable controlling behaviors. The use of ‘DNI’ in this criterion refers to all ‘boundary rule’-esque pages such as BYFs and other such things, not just DNIs.

"Vagueing, harassing, making callouts, or otherwise attacking people who are using the website as intended (i.e.- interacting with posts on their feed in any fashion without stalking the op) and likely did not see the DNI. Especially if the DNI is hidden or nonspecific and vague (ex- ‘no freaks’ or ‘standard DNI’), making them even easier to violate by accident.

"Frequently interacts aggressively with people who are clearly on their DNIs and then calls them boundary violators for responding to the harassment."

- Excerpt from "Safety in Alterhuman Spaces," a document by the Dragonheart Collective. Emphasis in the original. You can read the whole document here (PDF).

A note on language in the above quote: DNI (Do Not Interact) and BYF (Before You Follow) mean a type of post that many people put on their social media accounts to tell others about their boundaries.

[huginsmemory]

Not the prettiest schematic but decided to put together the timeline for the pre-series events, for fanfic writers and other folks like me who were curious at what exactly was going on, since a lot of it is explained vaguely, even in journal 3 itself.

Comments below (additional added day after posting):

Schematic technical comments:

Time is not to scale

Red = events with unconfirmed dates within the last two (black) concrete dates given. Structured so that earlier events are listed earlier with a '-', going off the position within the journals (before/after other events)

The events that occur in 1983 all occur when it's clearly winter, so early in the year

F refers to Fiddleford, because it's easy and shorter.

Sources: Journal 3, Book of Bill and the GF fandom wiki timeline.

Length of time comments:

Ford is in GF for 8 years total (1975-1983).

Journal 3 begins after Ford has been there for six years, thus each Journal spans roughly 3 years.

Ford knows Bill for about 4 years (1979-1983) and 2 years of that (1981-1983) they work together closely

A date given for Ford's investigation into ghosts and the Northwests, something seemingly unimportant, I would theorize is likely due to that directly after the ghost investigations Ford is frustrated about his work, and Bill offers the portal schematics. This suggests sometime in the fall/winter of 1981 the portal is proposed.

The portal is worked on likely for just over a year (likely late 1981-january 1983)

Fiddleford only works on the portal for 6 months (August 1982-January 1983).

Directly after it is noted that Fiddleford is joining Ford and the pages on Fiddleford, is the visit to UFO and gremloblin event. This suggests that it is early in Fiddleford's stay that he makes and begins to use the memory gun. The entry about the memory gun occurs right before an entry on a carnival, which Ford chooses them to go to as a distraction for Fiddleford. The carnival includes mention of a human-Squash, suggesting potentially an early october time frame (at the carnival Fiddleford also speaks to the man who becomes Blind Ivan) . This suggests that perhaps the gremloblin event occurred early-mid September and memory gun event about a week or so after.

This means that Fiddleford for the majority of the time he works on the portal, for about 4 of the 6 months, is using the memory gun. And by the time he creates the Society of the Blind Eye, he's already been using it for about 5 months, and has potentially been keeping in touch with the man who becomes Blind Ivan during that time.

It's suggested heavily that the night of the test Ford confronts Bill, which would mean as he witnesses the Society of the Blind Eye, that he's dealing with Bill's abuse for at least 4 weeks.

[mecania]

Before people say anything about bloodborne not having anything to do with women in the slightest I'm going to need them to an intense read up on medical history and then read Simone du Beauvoir's 'The Second Sex' and then like. everything else by Beauvoir, if you have not already, as a MINIMAL baseline. very, very bare bones reading, but it should be enough if you actually want to engage with discussions regarding the treatment of women in medical instituitions and the supposed ideal of the 'perfect, true female body' in actual good faith. (please take note... this is working off of the understanding that gender is not ontological and is not grounded in anything real. there is no reality to the idealised woman under the patriarchy, and there is no worth in defending it because it can only harm and makes no fucking sense. thank you)

Even if you do not think the subtext was intentional (which it very much is, i don't typically like stating 'if you want to understand the story watch this youtuber!' but charred thermos on yt delves into the inspirations behind hemwick charnel lane and that is proof enough that the writers did give a shit about the unique position of women in the world of medicine and religion. also he has multitudes more knowledge on 18th century european medicine as told in art than i do), that does not deny the fact that it can still be read in that lens and it makes bloodborne much more rounded out and meaningful in our current social climate. it is impossible to make a complete work of art about medical and religious institutions and the abuse they have enacted for years without engaging in discussions about how oppressed groups were treated by these institutions.

there is implicit reference to the treatment of 'foreigners' in these medical systems. notice how the patients in maria's lab, those who are not put in 'better conditions' (like adeline, who has her own space) speak in a distinctly different accent/cadence than most other characters you find. you are explicitly hit with xenophobia by the first few doors you knock on aside from gilbert's. this game is not 'vague', it is very, very allegorical and referential.

there are very good references to the idealisation of the 'woman', and how this construct works in reality, that i cannot think of it being anything but a discussion of this very concept and showing the truth behind it. a confusing part of sexism can be the utter difference between the treatment towards pregnancy versus the treatment towards women. it is, in truth, not a 'mistake' in the system, but rather an intentional facet. the woman is not substantial but a concept to be maintained for the sake of other ideologies like purity, heritage, and legacy (which is why the concept of 'womanhood' is so heavily disputed and even denied to those who you think should fit into it by these rules. it is simply plain bullshit). in the patriarchy the concept of the woman is divine, but the 'substantial' woman is believed to be dirtied by the nature of her existence. this is why we can abuse women's bodies while at the same time worship pregnancy; pregnancy is her saving grace in the system's eyes. this is what happens to queen yharnam, to arianna, and to get the point across even further so unbelievably clearly, this is what happens to kos. once a living god, an extraterrastial being that is the root of worship still now. in stark contrast to the immense pedestal she is placed upon, her physical body was discarded, maimed and brutalised for the sake of cutting her apart and taking out what was inside of her; her stillborn.

this is where we see the contrast between the worship of the conceptual woman versus. the treatment of the 'real' woman who has had this concept forced on her and what has been determined to be her physical body. the physical body of the determined woman will never meet the standard of the conceptual woman, because that is what it is; a false truth, an idealisation, and something to control, to detain. kos is trampled in death, her body is a tool, despite the passionate worship she received then and receives now. she is revered as a 'mother' yet at the same time it is this status and its claimed actualisation that allowed for them to dismantle and abandon her corpse. you hear her name praised and called upon for knowledge, yet when you find her, she is a pitiable corpse, blending in with the grey sand beneath her. the worship done in the name of the divine, holy, mythological 'female body' is not done in spite of the treatment of the supposed real woman. it is done in tandem.

[leighsartworks216]

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

Consolidating all of my Astarion fics here (and if I end up writing for anyone else it will also go here)

Main Masterlist

Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

BG3 Discord

Request Rules

Tag List Form

Astarion

I Come With Knives Masterlist - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: This fic deals with a lot of heavy themes. Read warnings on fic

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In The Moonlight - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: Cazador, mentions of past abuse, mentions of biting, vague implications of sex, like one swear

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My Sunshine - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: alcohol use, swearing, grief/mourning, blood, injury, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort

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All The Gentle Things - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: referenced blood sucking, touch-starved Astarion

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For A Cuddle? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: mentions of dried blood, referenced blood drinking and hunting

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My Moonlight (Part 2 to My Sunshine) - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: Blood, grief, anxiety, nausea, hurt/comfort. READ FULL CW LIST ON POST

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I’m All Yours - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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To Touch You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: touch-adverse descriptions of touch, hurt/comfort themes

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Designated Lockpicker - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: one swear word, reference to Astarion’s past abuse, mention of a terrible texture, innuendos

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Dear Pet (AO3 only) - Astarion x Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: slight overstimulation, choking, blood drinking

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You Hate Me - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of joint pain, insecurity, crying, possibly OOC, clown mention

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The Sound of Being Loved - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: some hurt/comfort, talk about The Scar™️

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In Your Silence (I Hear You) - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: going through a busy crowd, brief mention of nails digging into skin, some sensory issues (touch, sound)

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I’ve Got You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: fever, fever chills

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I Love You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: non-descriptive sex, dealing with trauma, swearing, love confessions

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You Have A Type, Don’t You? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

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Shut Up - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: swearing, anger

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Thank You - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: alcohol use

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A Cruel Trick - AO3 - Astarion & gn!Tav

Warnings: angst, blood, injury, references to past abuse, open-ended

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Aftercare - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: barest hint of possible angst if you squint, references to sex

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Get Up Goddamn You! - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: death, blood, heavy angst, swearing, bittersweet ending

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Naked But Safe - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: non-consensual undressing (by Raphael), slight arguing, swearing, trauma

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Every Time I Make Love In Your Shape, You Will Know - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: This fic has themes of rape and non-con. Read warnings on fic

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Fondness In Your Eyes - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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To Ease Your Burden - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: chronic pain

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You Are Full Of Surprises, Aren’t You? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: knife throwing, height difference

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What He Wants - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: sex mentions, references to past abuse/trauma, loss of sense of self

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Your Stupid Face - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, bickering

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Don’t You Dare (Make Me Fall In Love With You) - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: manipulation

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You Sweet Thing - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: swearing, scratching

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Kisses Like Prayers - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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You Can Take It - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: overstimulation, swearing, crying

Fem and Masc versions on AO3

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May I Kiss You? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

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You Deserve It - AO3 - Astarion x male!Tav/Reader

SMUT Warnings: swearing, references to sexual trauma

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I Want Nothing More - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: making out, grinding, swearing, references to voyeurism

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It's A Gift - AO3 - Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader

Warnings: vague references to trauma, self-doubt, swearing

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Rises The Moon - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: panic attack, ugly crying, protective Astarion

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Are You Sure You Want This? - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: nervousness

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Small Hands - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: references to violence, swearing, hurt/comfort

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I Will Always Choose You - AO3 - Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader (can be read as gn)

Warnings: fear of abandonment, alcohol/drinking, swearing

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Acid - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: descriptions of chemical/acid burns, descriptions of acid burning flesh, swearing, panicking, pain, blindness

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The Rescue of Magistrate Ancunin - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav (can be read as platonic or romantic)

Warnings: blood, injury, fear of death, descriptions of dying, swearing, descriptions of pain, angst

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Song Bird - AO3 - Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: references to sex, anxiety

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[brucewaynehater101]

In the Tim Emperor of Space au, being the ruler of multiple planets, possibly having multiple names he's referred to across planets since they have their own traditions and ideas of what a proper title might be, not to mention that at least a few of the planets came under Tim's hold while he was Robin while others while he was Red Robin, and I don't see Tim as being the sort of person who'd tell entire planets his actual, legal name,

getting off track

Anyway, in this AU, something to make note of, YJ is, for good reason, very co dependent, they had to be since in most cases they had next to no support in their day to day lives and several were in actively abusive situations and they only had fellow teens to help them

So, YJ knows and has always known that their birdie is an emperor, it makes him happy to help people so they support his hobby. Had this been a thing then rather than suggesting Tim get help and accept Bruce's death, Cassie would have instead suggested that Tim go on a royal tour/visit across his planets in the hopes that the time and distance would give him some perspective and the active adoration from his planets would probably also help in her opinion. He didn't but after the Brucrquest is done, Cassie might suggest he go on the royal tour anyway because he needs a break.

Anyway, Bart, Kon, and Cassie, sometimes just one, sometimes all, or in any combination, are considered royal consorts on Tim's various planets, depending on societal norms and attitudes on each planet. On at least one or more of the planets, each of the core four has inspired at least one cult that is quickly becoming a recognized religion across the galaxy. On the planets where any or all of them are the royal consort, their job is mostly to wear pretty things, fend off suitors who want to take advantage of their birdie, participate in charity events, and do their part in whatever convoluted scheme Tim has come up with to help out another planet that wants to be under Tim's aegis. They find it's very much like going as Tim's arm candy to a civilian event but they get to punch more people.

I love the idea of them maintaining various roles for Tim dependent on the culture of the planet. Sometimes, they are his advisors, or consorts, or generals, body guards, religious leaders (for the cult they accidentally started), vague family members, etc. The YJ definitely has fun in the different roles (even retired ones occasionally help out [it's like a vacation but in space]).

Tim has a very helpful spreadsheet (that links to more documents for further information) that explains who takes up what role on each planet. Despite that, they do occasionally mess up. Sometimes, planets even chat with each other. It gets a bit chaotic when that happens

[randomshyperson]

R U Mine? - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: A game of cat and mouse begins between an Avenger and a criminal. But perhaps there are no winners, as they both fall.

Warnings: mentions of typical canon violence, hints of abusive past and unhealthy work dynamics, some superhero routine lore, more shapeshifter power mentions, mutual pining, forbidden relationship, some teasing, (first) kiss and then a lot of kisses and steamy make out, some fluff and comedy. | Words: 6.965K

A/N-> How many references to Killing Eve can one put in a story. And also, references to the Witch's Road comics. This here is the extra chapter about their first kiss, enjoy reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

"I know what you're doing."

Three weeks prior, Natasha's sentence would have made her jump with fright. Perhaps she would have tried to hide all those files and lie and lie again, until she could convince herself the whole thing was about the job.

But today? Wanda was tired. She had spent the last few hours stumbling into dead ends, no progress on whatever she was trying to do with all that vague information Shield had on you.

So she lifted her face to the redhead who appeared in her room late at night, two cups of coffee in hand, and chuckled weakly at the statement. It was obvious that the drink was an invitation - perhaps even a sign of 'hey, I'm not trying to start a fight. I want to help,' and Wanda accepted without hesitation.

"It's not like I'm doing a good job of keeping it a secret." She retorts to Nat, who smiles before taking the empty space on the bed. Practically all the Shield files - now labeled Avengers - about you are scattered on the mattress. It's a mess, and to Nat, it makes sense that Wanda hasn't made much progress.

"To be fair, for a first-time Investigation, I think you're doing all right." Says the widow after a sip of her coffee. "You covered your tracks and even used an official justification for researching her. Your mistake was involving Vision."

Wanda sighs. "Let me guess, he talks under pressure?"

Nat chuckles, nodding. Wanda rubs a tension point on her forehead. Taking advantage of this, Natasha gestures to one of the files. "I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do, Maximoff. But this doesn't seem very healthy."

Wanda gives a sad smile, and Nat expects her to defend herself. But instead, the smaller girl sighs. "I know." She murmurs sincerely, forcing a faint smile at the widow. "But I need this, Nat. It's the first time in months that I've managed to think about anything other than Pietro. And I know it doesn't look healthy, but it's all I've got. I'm an Avenger now. Maybe it's just time to get to work, and arrest villains or something."

Natasha frowned at her, absorbing the confession for a moment before rebutting: "Is that what you want to do with Y/N, though? Lock her up?"

Wanda swallows dryly, looking down. "Of course, Nat."

"You're a terrible liar."

The brunette sighs. "I mean it!"

"And I don't believe you." Nat insists in a good mood despite everything. "Look at all this, Wanda. You've been at it for days. Studying her. Did you even remember to eat anything in the last few hours?" Wanda snorts, gesturing to the breakfast leftovers on the dresser in the corner of the room which makes Natasha let out an incredulous laugh. "Wow, a nutritious example you are."

The witch tosses her hair back. "If you've come here to try to babysit me, please leave."

Natasha rolled her eyes and ignored the other woman's stubbornness. She put her coffee down between her crossed legs and started organizing the files.

"You're naturally perceptive and clever, Maximoff. But you lack experience and practice. You need to put together a timeline and find the gaps." The widow began, and masterfully, all the security camera photos, reports from shield agents, and unexplained crimes related to thieves with no identifiable faces began to connect and make sense. "But I must warn you, I did all this years ago. When I started at Shield, your little friend was already some sort of the goose that laid the golden eggs, or stole the gold for the saying to work."

"She's not my friend." Wanda murmured, her gaze fixed on the files so Natasha wouldn't see her blush. The widow ignored the comment and continued talking.

"My point is that I didn't get very far." Nat says with a sigh. "To be honest, it was an insult to my ego. She was just a kid back there. And she managed to flee much more experienced agents. She had endless, untraceable disguises. She doesn't need to impersonate, you know? She can create faces. It makes her almost impossible to monitor. When we met for the first time, it was she who found me." Nat says, swallowing dryly at her own memories. Wanda's eyes widen softly, listening carefully. "I never told this to anyone, but when Clint first met me, he told me that he felt something. As if he knew I wanted to escape. And when I saw Y/N, I had the same feeling."

"What did you do?" Wanda asked and Nat sighed.

"I couldn't do what Clitn did for me, Wanda, I'm sorry." Said the widow sincerely. "She attacked first. And I had to defend myself. It wasn't just protocol, it was all I'd learned to do."

Wanda frowns. "Why are you telling me all this, Nat?"

The redhead sighs. "Because it's important. It means that she doesn't trust easily, and attacks when she feels threatened. She reminds me of both of us, to be honest." Nat comments, getting a small smile from the witch. "Besides, I want you to be really careful if you do dig into this."

"I will."

"I'm serious, Wanda." Insists the redhead. "Careful not to miss a gun hidden in her dress." She remembers the last official report Wanda made, regarding her first mission, the night she simply couldn't stop thinking about, especially after your secret vision to the compound, and the witch swallows dryly. Nat doesn't mind her hesitation. "Careful in a way that you'll use your powers if necessary."

Without looking the widow in the eye, Wanda retorts between her teeth: "I get it, Nat."

"You're not going to carry this on until you look me in the eye, Maximoff. And swear it."

Wanda's stubbornness falters, and she returns her attention to the widow, looking at her seriously. Nat gives her a small smile as she adds, "It's not just Clint who cares about your safety. We all do. I'm not going to allow you to throw yourself headlong into something dangerous just to escape your grief, Wanda. Swear that you'll be very careful, and you'll walk away if it gets too dangerous."

Wanda is surprised by the tenderness, and a little embarrassed. It takes a moment but she finally nods. "I swear." She says before adding. "I want to help Y/N. Like Clint helped you. Not lock her up, like I said before."

Natasha chuckles. "I know, kid. I know."

With the Black Widow’s blessing, she kept digging those files. And Nat didn't lie, you're untraceable. Every time you meet, it's clear that you've let yourself be found. Even with handcuffs on your wrist, you keep smiling as if it was all part of the plan. Judging by the way you always escape from prisons, later going public that some confidential information for the police was stolen, this is easily confirmed.

The Avengers are getting used to the strange persecution, very much because each of them has their secrets. And just like his protégé, Steve Rogers had side missions to pursue Bucky. It would be hypocritical of him to hold anything against Wanda for being after you.

And Wanda couldn't stop. Even after hundreds of dead ends and ridiculous escapes. She had to meet you, and have less than five minutes in your presence with another twelve agents and the whole Avengers present every fortnight when they manage to track you only for you to escape again. She didn't know why, but she had the impression that you looked forward to these moments as much as she did.

Like a little private game of mouse and cat, only you and her were part of.

-&-

There are a hundred things to do in the Capital of Crime.

The most complete list of gambling games imaginable, right down to a mural of targets to be captured.

All these things are at your disposal, and all you can think about is the new addition to the Avengers team.

Wanda Maximoff was born in the country that fell from the sky around the same time that Baron Strucker was playing Pinky and the Brain with your cells in a secret laboratory of the now-destroyed Hydra. A Stark bomb made her an orphan, and after bouncing from orphanage to orphanage, often expelled for getting into trouble with her twin brother, Wanda embarked on protest groups in search of civil rights until she was finally recruited into a human experimentation program that turned her into an enhanced version of herself. She was the only reason for the first time in your life that you wished you hadn't split with Strucker so soon - If you'd still been his puppy instead of the clients he got, you would have met her. You may have become friends.

"She's doing it again." Xu Xialing whispered to Layla, the two engaged in a game of Beat the Hero - a competition of colored cards that contained electronic figures detailing the abilities of real-life superheroes. It was, in a way, training for possible battles in real life, where they learned about their enemies by playing. The two of them were sitting in opposite armchairs, while you were practically lying on the sofa, drinking with a lost look on your face. According to them, fantasizing for the tenth time in a row about the Avenger you met in Italia weeks ago.

Layla giggled when she saw your expression before turning her face to Xu Xialing again. "You know, they say Maximoff has psychic powers. Maybe Y/N is under a spell."

"A love spell, that is." Mocks the Chinese woman, getting a laugh from the other.

You only came out of your trance of thoughts about Wanda with the bell from the private room you were in. Your face changed before the curtain opened, and Xu Xialing was the first to look at the security guard entering, somewhat annoyed at having her private time playing games with friends interrupted.

"Forgive me for intruding, madam. The Countess is here and requests the Sage to join her." The man said, and Xialing nodded in understanding. She turned to you, but there was no need. With a soft leap from the sofa, you got to your feet and took one of Layla's cards from her pile - you threw it on the board and helped her win the game, taking the opportunity to leave the room while the two of them discussed whether the assisted victory had been fair or not.

The Golden Daggers Club was as packed and vibrant as ever. The next round of betting for the fights was due to start soon, and there were a lot of people shouting their bets to the judges, and joining the fight cages, so you had to make some effort to follow the venue's security guard into the special area of the place - where federal agents were given even more privacy to be around.

Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine was waiting for you alone, but behind a door with six security guards guarding her. Each of them gave you a look of contempt, but you walked past them without any reaction until you were with Valentina in a room with no windows, every inch of which was covered in priceless works of art, many of them stolen throughout history, which you and Layla recovered together in the service of the Ten Rings.

"You wanted to see me, Countess?" was your greeting, softly snarky. You weren't in the best of moods, especially since Valentina had interrupted your rest.

The woman gave you a false smile from the armchair where she was sitting waiting for you. A closed file and a glass of wine lay on the corner table.

"Oh, what a surprise, after your last defeat, I thought you'd given up on Sage." She comments with a certain venom on your disguise, the same one you wore two weeks ago when you went on what she called a streak of bad luck in the Club's fighting competitions, but which Xu Xialing called a distracted lovesick puppy. You try to disguise your clumsiness by clearing your throat.

Checking that the door is closed, you return to your real appearance and Valentina gives you a small but genuine smile.

"What do you want?" you insist, and in response, she pats the file resting on the table. You sigh. "What's this?"

"Last month has been very busy, but I've finally had time to review some of your late missions reports." She begins and you hide your nervousness, knowing full well where this conversation could end. "I apologize for taking so long to check them, darling. I hope you don’t think I’m jeopardizing your learning progress."

"Stop stalling, Valentina, just tell me what the problem is." You retort grumpily but she chuckles, her fingers tracing the paper before she grabs the file.

“Normally, I trust your experience, but I've heard that you've been particularly... antsy in your last few operations. Of course, you've successfully made it out of all of them, after all, we're having this conversation, but for a master of disguise, the increased number of encounters with the Avengers attracted my curiosity. I thought I'd take a closer look at your original encounters with them, and found an interesting passage in your report on Italy two months ago."

The page is already marked and in the next moment, she begins to read;

"My exit was interrupted by the presence of a new Avenger. A woman, perhaps the same age as me. The new, improved one from Sokovia. Average height, brown hair. Green eyes. Intense. Hypnotizing."

You swallow dryly, looking down at your feet. You're grateful to have control over your own body, or Valentina would be able to watch your cheeks blush.

She continues reading. "We faced each other briefly. The girl doesn't have complete control of her abilities, it was a quick fight. I immobilized her and departed in the getaway vehicle. No disguise was compromised, no other witnesses." Valentina narrates, finally raising her eyes from the file to you. "You know what's funny, sweetheart? The Avengers submitted their own report on Sapienza, and Wanda Maximoff describes the encounter with a Shapeshifter in detail. My question is, why are you lying for someone who didn't hesitate to use her special abilities to show her team your real appearance?"

You're caught off guard. A conflict of emotions rises in your chest, from anger to disappointment. It hurts. It's confusing and suffocating, and you feel the urge to start crying. But none of these emotions floats over your expression, your nails digging into your palm are enough to keep everything well buried.

With a soft sigh, you look Valentina in the eye.

"I don't trust the CIA."

Your boss chuckles, closing the file and crossing her legs. It's not exactly her best lie, but it seems to work on her.

"If this is about the Hydra clean-up in the public sector, I can assure you that we're safe." Valentina says. "Besides, your job is to trust me, Y/N. Not the CIA, or the Ten Rings, or any of your contractors. Only me, dear child, must you trust."

You bite your tongue hard, tears almost escaping this time. 

"I just..." You try, not knowing exactly what to say. "There was a conflict, and the girl, she beat me. Effortlessly. That energy she possesses revealed my disguise immediately, I had no chance to try another one. So I made a choice, and I omitted the part that I thought would do me any harm. Isn't that what you taught me to do?"

Right answer. Valentina grins, before sighing and standing up. You don't want her to touch you, but she puts her hands on your arms and you resist the urge to pull away.

"I'm proud of you, you're getting cleverer every day. I want you to be this way, Y/N. Strong-willed, resourceful." She compliments you, her hands moving up to your cheeks. You try to smile, but Valentina squeezes your skin tighter. "That doesn't mean you will lie to me. Understand?" She asks but doesn't expect a vocal response. Your nod is more than enough for her to give you a fake smile and loosen her grip. "You're my most valuable employee. I don't want you to put yourself in vulnerable situations without a reason."

Valentina steps away, and you decide to take a chance.

"She's like me." It's more hesitant than you'd like, but it's enough to make your boss raise an eyebrow at you. Swallowing dryly, you continue. "Wanda and her brother were also Strucker's experiments. We are the same. I thought I could-"

Valentina interrupts with a spiteful chuckle that makes you cringe like a frightened child. "The same? Is that what you think?" She retorts in a mocking tone that makes you feel too ashamed to even broach the subject. Leaning her waist on the table, she looks at you. "I know you've been digging through my files on her, Y/N. I don't blame you for being curious, but by now, I imagine you know very well the conditions of the experiments Miss Maximoff was part of. How she volunteered for all that. How can you say you're the same?"

You hesitate uneasily. "I don't mind that she volunteered. War called for desperate measures. I just... I've never met any other of us. Another who survived the Baron. I've been thinking if I could just see her-"

Valentina bursts into laughter, and you fall silent, concentrating so that she can't see your red ears. "See her? Now what's that, huh? Romeo and Juliet of the supers? What an absurd idea, child!" Refutes your boss, still chuckling as she walks away to the table. She finishes her glass of wine in one long gulp, and to your surprise, throws the file in your direction. You catch the item flat against your chest. "The notes the Avengers made about you are on page 24. Read what she said about you, and draw your own conclusions about who you call an equal. I came here to confirm your mental state, and this conversation was enlightening. I'll arrange an assessment."

"Val-"

"It’s not open for discussions Y/N." She cuts you off, a car key already in hand that makes you groan to yourself impatiently. "You're not going back to work until you talk to Doctor Grand."

She leaves without saying another word and you're left alone with the file in your hands. Without hurrying, you flip to the page mentioned earlier and sigh when you find a photograph of Wanda wearing a uniform with the Avengers crest embroidered on it. Below is her statement about the mission.

You trace your fingers over the passage "An extraordinary and dangerous skill from an equally impressive fighter" but hesitate when you read the passages about how she felt scared and unsafe. About how she thought you were aiming at her. About how she felt she failed by not bringing a high-risk criminal into custody.

Your tears finally fall, staining the page before you quickly wipe them away, closing the file tightly after ripping Wanda's photo out.

It was time to wrap up loose ends and get back to your perfect record.

-&-

In the fake drawer hidden on the floor under your bed - safeguards for someone whose apartment is frequently visited by a two-faced countess - you kept some personal things. Hydra's last record of you, small souvenirs from missions, and a photograph of Wanda Maximoff.

And this morning - and any other morning really - you were supposed to ignore that drawer, leave any weapons at home, put on a presentable outfit, and meet Valentina in the lobby promptly at 10 o'clock. She would take you by car to Dr. Grant's office who would do a standard assessment of your mental state that would tell whether or not you were fit to return to work.

But instead, you took the photo of Wanda out of its hiding place and put it in your pocket. You stood up, walked through your closet, and chose the least flashy backpack you owned. Then you armed yourself with three different types of knives and two pistols in a chest holster, very similar to that of American detectives. And speaking of the police, your drawer of false documentation provided by Valentina was studied without haste until you had in your pockets the identity of a Shield agent who never existed but was meant to be a little tribute to the job you were performing today.

With your disguise ready, you left the apartment two hours before your scheduled meeting with Valentina, and you had barely boarded the ferry when she called you.

"Our appointments aren't something to be skipped, young lady." Stated the woman seriously, but you gave her a weary sigh.

"I don't wish to see Doctor Grant."

Valentina chuckled, as you handed your ticket to the clerk passing in the corridors. On the other end of the line, she then spoke;

"You're not getting away with this, Y/N. I'm not authorizing your return to work until Roland confirms to me that your mental state is stable for you to continue."

You prop your feet up on the seat, switching your cell phone to another ear. "Val, I'm not running away, I promise. I just needed a break. Give me a few days, okay? Reschedule the visit, I'll be there. I'll even be there early."

She pauses thoughtfully, you can hear her breathing. And then she sighs in defeat and you smile. "Okay. If it's any encouragement, your next service is already being prepared. It's something you've never stolen before, and I'd like it to be yours. Of course, if you prove suitable."

A few weeks ago, the temptation would have been too much and you would have turned around and gone to the appointment just to win Grant's approval and be cleared for the job. To prove not only to Valentina, but to the world, and to any other colleague, that you could complete that mission. 

But now you let out a short laugh, and that surprises Valentina enough for her to keep quiet. "Reschedule for the end of the week. I guarantee that I'll have Dr. Grant's approval and you'll have your order in no time."

The promise seems to be enough for her, and after another sigh, Valentina hangs up. You put your cell phone away and return your attention to the now-stamped train ticket to New York.

The trip didn't take long, and within a few hours, you were in the bustling city. Especially today, at the inaugural Heroes of Earth celebration event, Manhattan was almost chaotic.

With fans and journalists from all over the world filling the streets that had been closed off for a sort of open-air Comic Con, you had no trouble at all going unnoticed in the crowd. You wore a disguise, of course, but you didn't have to. A few minutes into the fair, you really did look like a tourist, with your Avengers sweatshirt, cap, and colorful glasses.

The knives in your backpack were well hidden under the amount of superhero souvenirs you got.

You were trying to choose between an Incredible Hulk smash-burger or a portion of Thor's worthy chicken when the bell announcing the photo session with the Avengers was about to start.

Your appetite disappeared, anxiety taking over your whole body at once.

It was time to move.

The queue was huge, as was to be expected. At least, most of them were there for the best-known Avengers. Thor wasn't even on Earth, which meant that the other five originals were competing with each other over who got the most autographs. The new members, like Wanda, the Falcon, or Vision, were given presentation stands but had much more free time at the event.

You tried to ignore the pang of pride when you saw that among the new members, the queue of people to see Wanda was the longest. A considerable number of children were very excited to ask her to do magic tricks.

Your strawberry milkshake - Black Widow's Special - almost fell out of your hand when you finally saw Wanda leave the curtains dividing the dressing rooms and join the autograph table.

She wasn't wearing the soft hoodie with the Avengers symbol from the photograph you sneak a peek at almost every night, nor was she wearing the pathetic disguise she wore the first time you saw her. No, somehow, she managed to look prettier. Like all her teammates, she was wearing an outfit similar to the official fighting uniform, probably designed just for the event. With a black tactical outfit covered by a red jacket, the gloves that didn't cover her fingers were probably your favorite part.

Despite her relatively unfriendly uniform, Wanda offered such lovely smiles to the people who came to greet her that you thought the milkshake made you sick, judging by the way your stomach and heart were unsettled.

When the Meet & Greets began, you had to go to the ticket booth and buy a single ticket in cash; to meet Wanda, of course.

It would take place back in the fair's improvised dressing rooms, and after waiting for almost forty minutes, you were finally guided inside. Your backpack wasn't searched, perhaps because your weapons were hidden by Ten Rings technology, a gift from Xu Xialing on your last assignment, and when it went through the X-ray at the entrance, all they detected were the countless fair toys you had acquired. And the knives hidden in your body, well, it's obvious to say that when it comes to changing aspects of your anatomy for any situation, passing a security search was quite easy.

"Miss Maximoff will be here in a minute. She had a little problem with her costume, the children who came in before you caused a little milkshake accident."

One of the organizers informed you, and you gave her a kind smile, commenting that the Black Widow special was essential, even if it might cause minor accidents. The employee chuckled before going to answer a call on her communicator that could have been your intentional flooding of one of the toilets to occupy as many of the staff as possible.

Wanda's dressing room was the most intimate environment of hers you've ever been in. It didn't have many things, of course, but for someone who only had access to government documents, it was paradise.

Curious fingers traced all the belongings you could reach, from more comfortable pieces of clothing for her to change into during the event, to different types of tea and books, until you found a music device. 

The password protection on a Stark Industries MP3 player made you laugh to yourself. "What a distrustful little witch." You murmured affectionately, stowing the item in your jacket pocket and moving over to the schedule board.

You had already read the row that marked the start of the Meets, probably described there and in all the other dressing rooms, when your gaze caught a small notebook forgotten in one of the armchairs.

You got the chance to take it in hand and smile at the sketches on the first few pages before the item was suddenly lifted and pulled out of your hand.

"Sorry, but this is private." Wanda grabbed the item out of the air, but you stood there, static like a frightened animal, unable to breathe properly under her gaze. She seemed to realize that she had been too harsh and huffed out a laugh, the notebook clutched tightly against her chest. The sound made you swallow. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting, I guess you got bored. Sorry about that. Let me put this away, and we can, um, get started."

She didn't use magic to return the book to a safe place, you didn't know that yet, but Wanda was still learning to trust her powers. And if she could help it, she usually didn't use them.

She approached you, to put the book away in a bag that you didn't have a chance to peek into, and the sudden movement made your body react in alarm. Your back hit the schedule board, and Wanda frowned, stopping in her tracks with an almost hurt look on her face.

"You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you, you know." She murmured with the tips of her ears red. "I'm just going to put my notebook away, you see." The backpack floated towards her with a tug, and Wanda hardly met your gaze after that. She tossed the bag into a corner of the room and fiddled uncomfortably with the edge of her blouse.

She was no longer wearing the outfit she'd worn before, she was wearing a comfortable set, too soft and domestic for you to be calm-minded about anything.

You forced your brain to work because you thought the whole thing was getting ridiculous.

"I'm not scared." Your voice comes out very hoarse, so you clear your throat. Wanda raises her eyes, finally, and the green irises make your cheeks warm. You don't hide it from her. "As a matter of fact, I'm not the one who usually gets scared when we meet, am I, Maximoff?"

Taking the time she needed to understand, you removed your colored glasses and cap, your face changing back to its original appearance. Wanda sighed shakily as soon as she recognized you.

"Hi, Y/N." She greeted, too sweet for you to do anything but smile shyly, forgetting for a moment exactly what you had come for. 

"Hello, Wanda." You tried to sound just as gentle, but you must have done a poor job, to blame it on your body that doesn't seem to be working properly. Wanda swallows dryly, her hands moving slowly in the air. You watch the unhurried gesture - the way her fingers draw the air, and how the items of disguise float away to the armchair, and in your hands appear handcuffs that don't prevent you from moving them, and don't hurt either. The most you feel is a tickle.

"I've come all this way, just for you to put me in chains, little witch." You try to tease her, and you think it's a victory the way Wanda tries to hide a smile, approaching with her head down until she's close enough to touch you.

Her hands should be gripping the magical handcuffs, but instead, they hold yours. Wanda sighs. 

"You can't be here." She whispers, meeting your eyes, and you think it's ridiculous that you made any plans at all. You could never do anything to harm Wanda, and that was just the truth. "Then why are you?"

Unlike her, you don't hide your smile. You shrug as if your heart wasn't thumping in your chest, and revel in playing with Wanda's buttons.

"I was in the neighborhood. Wanted to say hi." Your casual reply makes her snort impatiently.

Her hands release yours, and you raise an eyebrow at Wanda's audacity to start searching you. 

"Wow, take me on a date first, love." You joke, but despite the new color her cheeks acquire due to the joke, the fond nickname, Wanda doesn't stop. She gropes in your pockets, reaches into your jacket, and grimaces with disapproval at every illegal item she finds. The false documents, the Shield badge, the guns. The MP3 is in the front pocket and Wanda gets a little closer to reach it, enough so that you have to lick your lips trying to control the instinct to break the distance. She just looks so kissable and smells so good.

She offers you an incredulous look at the stolen item, which floats back to the table as she gropes for the other pocket. Finding the train ticket, she lets out a short laugh.

"Six hours of travel is not being in the neighborhood." She comments, raising her eyes to you. 

"What do you want me to say?" You retort with a little smile, discourteously glancing between her eyes and her lips. "That I couldn't help myself and had to get on the first train to see you again? That I can't even go back to work because I can't stop thinking about you?"

There's this thing that Wanda's eyes do. The pupils get huge, and the green darkens. And she looks at you as if you were something to be devoured in every detail as if you were worth admiring. As if you were worth any of her time.

She speaks again, so low and hoarse that you wouldn't be able to hear her if you weren't close.

"Your thoughts are loud. Are you always so hard on yourself?" 

You swallow dry, caught off guard. Your hesitation makes Wanda sigh. She looks ready to apologize when you nod.

"It doesn't matter, every time we bump into each other, you make me feel different. Better. You look at me as if you can see more. What do you see, Wanda?"

She sighs deeply, and her hands move to touch your face. It's too gentle, and affectionate in a real and true way that you never experience. Your body goes rigid, not knowing how to handle the tenderness, but Wanda doesn't catch any request for her to stop touching, so her hands continue to hold your cheeks.

"I can see your anger, just as I can see your fear. I see the thief, and the murderer, but I can also see only you. No disguises, no lies. The person you are underneath it all." She says, swallowing dryly as she lets her gaze fall to your lips. "This is the person I let get away. And the person I'd like to meet, if you'll let me."

Your chest is heavy with confusing feelings. Your traumas beep in unison, your defenses beg you to push Wanda away and flee before the rest of the Avengers decide to show up. 

But instead, you return watery eyes to Wanda and gasp softly; "Why? Why do you care?"

And Wanda tries to lie. "I think you could use a friend."

You chuckle dryly, pulling away from the touch. "Hard pass." You mutter, but Wanda doesn't let you move away entirely. She decides to risk everything.

She grabs your chin and tilts your face towards her. It's a miscalculated kiss, you both flinch and gasp at the first contact of your lips and being taken by surprise makes you lose your balance in the middle of the movement to get away from her.

You fall into the armchair, and Wanda should apologize, but she doesn't even bother. She pushes your tense shoulders and straddles your lap, this time, when her mouth meets yours, it's much hungrier and more determined.

The handcuffs disappear into thin air with the first gasp that leaves her lips, and you waste no time in grabbing her waist, roughly pulling her down and holding her tight against you as your mouths move together. It's a passionate kiss full of urgency, charged with all the tension you've built up.

Your tongue slides into her mouth without warning, more experienced than Wanda, you manage to get a whimper out in no time. She wants to shrink away from the sound, but your hands slide down to grab her ass and pin her down onto your front, and suddenly all she can do is moan.

It seems absurd that you've gone a lifetime without kissing Wanda Maximoff when you both seem molded to do this with perfection.

You don't even move apart to breathe, a battle of restless hands and hungry mouths panting against each other. Wanda begins to grind herself into your lap in search of friction and you let out a sound you didn't know you could make.

Everything is suddenly so hot that Wanda doesn't hear her surroundings. She doesn't hear the curtain or the footsteps. But she definitely hears the machine man's surprised exclamation.

"Oh, forgive me, Wanda." Vision's back is turned the second he catches a glimpse of what's happening in that armchair.

Wanda jumps away as if she's received a jolt, and you groan in displeasure at the interruption. Despite the way every cell in your body seems to be vibrating with euphoria, you manage subtle changes in your face that prevent the Synthesized from recognizing you if he decides to turn around. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Vis, please leave." She demands with ragged breathing, her face bright red. Wanda looks neither at you nor at Vision.

The man clears his throat, stuttering. "Of course, Wanda, I'm so sorry." He says, but although he mentions leaving, he doesn't. Stopping just before the curtain, he risks a glance over his shoulder. "There was a forced distraction with criminal indications in the western sector, the fair has already been interrupted. The captain has asked everyone to gather for a patrol check, in case there's an attempted attack. I just wanted to warn you. It would be appropriate to send your... friend away." explains the machine, exchanging a quick glance with Wanda before leaving the dressing room.

You'd like to kiss her again, but Wanda sniffles at Vision's departure and you frown in a mixture of concern and confusion.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" She deduces annoyed. "To try a bloody attack on a children's fair? God, I’m so stupid. You’re obviously using me to distract your partners-”

But you stood up with an impatient sigh for the anxious and nervous conclusions of an avenger who has been caught in the act.

You grab Wanda again and kiss her hard enough for her to lose her balance, and she ends up pressed against the schedule board, and then the coffee table, each kiss more desperate and heated than the last.

Your thigh presses between hers, and Wanda practically meows at the friction. You love how responsive she is to your touch, and you try to push a little further under her clothes, quickly addicted to attracting more sounds.

And you're almost to the edge of her bra when you're interrupted again.

"Jesus, Maximoff, what the hell is going on here?" Unlike Vision, Natasha Romanoff is much more serious and determined to put an end to the whole thing. And she cares little about what was happening against the table. You hide the change in your features on Wanda's shoulder, while also trying to control your own breathing, somehow much more aroused than before. "We're working, Maximoff. There may be terrorists on the perimeter and you're here, well, I'm not judging, I'm just saying there's an appropriate time for everything. I'm sure your friend will survive if you let go of her mouth for a few hours. Who knows, maybe next time you can meet in a more appropriate place?" 

When you finally look at Nat, you can see that she's hiding a teasing little smile. You're glad that Wanda is making friends.

And unlike you, who doesn't mind having been caught not once but twice by the Avengers, Wanda looks like an embarrassed tomato who nods quickly while her magic does the work of adjusting your half-open clothes and leaving the objects you bump into in order again. 

"Of course, Natasha, I'll send her away. I'm sorry." Wanda practically pushes you out, dragging you to a more secluded area at the back of the dressing rooms.

She tries unwillingly to resist your eager hands or the quick but intense kisses you steal from her on the way.

"You have to go." She struggles to gasp, her hands pushing your shoulders to stop the whole thing or she wouldn't be able to think.

Wanda with her hair disheveled after a proper make-out session, her face flushed and her lips swollen is too much for you.

"Fuck." You gasp and she swallows.

"What?" 

You don't know what to say, nothing seems enough. She's awakened something in you that you didn't know existed. Suddenly, the idea of staying away from her seems an impossibility.

"When will I see you again?"

She frowns at the question, laughing nervously. "We shouldn't have seen each other even today."

But your hands pull her by the waist. "Nonsense. We should definitely do this again.” Your lips trail down her jaw, to the sensitive points on her neck that you're trying to memorize. She sighs, and struggles to keep her eyes open, but only for a moment before she pushes you away again, laughing shyly.

"Please, darling, I need to get back, my job-"

"There's no attempt attack, I flooded a toilet so I'd have time to see you." You clarify quickly and Wanda has to shake her head and laugh incredulously.

"You're nuts."

"Honestly? Yes. I think I've figured out what was wrong with me over the last weeks. You’re driving me nuts, Wanda Maximoff. I can't stop thinking about you." You retort quickly, not caring about the irregular beating of your pulse, nor the way she blushes heavily. "I need to know when I'm going to see you again."

She looks back into the dressing rooms and can see that Natasha is coming out through the curtain. She approaches you at once to give you one last intense kiss and whispers goodbye on your lips as you part.

With every inch of skin that Wanda touched vibrating and your heart pounding in your chest, you only remember to regulate your powers and return to a disguise a good few minutes after she has disappeared from sight, and hope that no security cameras saw you there.

[readychilledwine]

What Dreams May Come

Part One - Asher

Summary - 50 years after sending his pregnant mate and children into hiding, Tamlin wants nothing more than to reconnect with his family.

Warnings - Rhys Slander is HEAVY in this series, references to smut, references to abuse, death, schmurder, fated mates and hidden family trope, kind of angst, tension, if you see an error, no you didn't 👀

A/N - I was going to wait to post this mini series, but I can't. I've been rereading it over and over and judging it harshly (as I do all my writing), so I'm putting it out there before I abandon it. Ps- each child has their own powers. You will learn each child in depth during Araceli's chapter. These are just little previews. Bonus points if you can figure out what Asher’s might be.

🥀What Dreams May Come Masterlist🥀Tamlin Masterlist🥀Master Masterlist🥀

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears (seriously peep the blog. Adorable season court Dividers)

Asher was thoroughly unimpressed with the horned beast staring him down as he flirted with the twin river nymphs he had been chasing for a few days now. Feral eyes were locked on his chocolate brown ones before the body of the beast because to slowly approaching. Asher sighed as the nymphs dove back into the water of the river, whispered melodically in their native tongue. “And what manner of beast are you,” He motioned up and down. “I believe parents should write stories about you. Ugly thing, you are.” 

He froze as the beast shifted, long blonde hair and sun kissed skin replacing the fur. Strong arms went across a wide chest, “Be careful with your words, son. You look just like me.” 

Asher, in fact, did not look like Tamlin. Tamlin screamed of sun, golden blonde hair and green eyes, Asher sang for the moon, dark short hair styled to one side, deep chocolate eyes he must have gotten from his mother's side, tanned skin. It was in their facial structure, the sharp jawline, the nose. That is where the signs of Tamlin rested in his son.

He had grown into a tall male, strong from what Tamlin could tell, but definitely with the same soft heart he had. Tamlin could see it in those eyes. Eyes that currently swan with confusion. The Lord of Sping simply opened his arms smiling as his first son dropped the act and came to him. 

“Dad,” the word was foreign on Asher’s tongue. They had been in hiding for so very long, not even mentioning the word out of fear. Asher had not been held by his father since he was 4, but it felt like he remembered. 

Hugging Tamlin, hugging his dad, it reminded him of the first warm rain in a season. Of getting a blanket warmed near the fire on cold nights from his mother. Asher melted into it, savored it as he took in the vaguely familiar scent of petrichor and freshly trimmed grass.

“I missed you,” Tamlin's deep voice made his eyes close as he rested his head on his shoulder. “Tell me everything. Tell me every happy moment, every ache, tell me you hate me. Anything, Asher. Anything.”

His mother was not home when Asher brought him back to the cave she had turned into a true home. The rumors that she could move mountains were, possibly, not rumors in her son's eyes, because, behind the waterfall the cave was hidden by, she had created a home. Everything he and his siblings had needed was magically summoned and made by his mother. They never wanted anything during the 50 years they had been isolated. 

Asher knew now his mom's magic ensured they had beds, blankets, comfort, through technically stealing. To be conjured, it had to come from somewhere. He had written a poem once about being a shopkeeper in the Night Court and coming into an emptied out shop, but Asher would put money on his mother somehow leaving a note to bill the High Lord of Night. 

Asher had also written a poem about his Uncle finding said bill. His mother told him it was inappropriate while smiling and folding it into her back pocket. 

He and Tamlin stayed quiet as he let the blonde male look around, “They say you can take the female out of the Night Court, but never the Night Court out of the female.”

Asher scoffed at that, “I believe she picked our furniture and goods on where she wanted to take from. Can't feel bad stealing from a rich asshole,” he quoted her exact words. 

Tamlin gave him a look, his lips clearly trying to remain in a stern position. “Your uncle is a-”

“Pompous asshole who feels that he is the change the world needs by just existing and not acting,” Asher was raising a dark brow at him as he poured them some tea. “Mom told me.”

“Asher,” Tamlin continued to try to be firm, “We do not speak of family that way.”

Asher blinked at him, unphased. This child, his oldest son, his mind was unwavering. Not even the Gods themselves could convince them of his Uncle Rhysand's good had they tried. It was his mom's fault, she was blunt and cut throat with her honesty, even when she knew lying would have been best.

Asher had found the history. He'd read the story of how his grandfather had threatened the life of his grandmother, forcing his father's hand to tell him where Rhysand would be meeting his mother and youngest sister. He read how his grandfather forced his father to watch as he mutilated them. 

He then read how Rhysand and his maternal grandfather got their revenge. Minds being melted, an innocent female, a victim in her own right, slaughtered mercilessly. Asher’s mother had still chosen his father, though. She was the only one who saw both sides and felt both heavy hands. Asher knew from the sadness in her eyes she would pick Tamlin again and again, though he had not met his own mate to know why yet.

“Do you always chase females,” Tamlin finally sat, relaxing enough to truly appreciate how handsome his son was.

A wide grin appeared on Asher’s face, “I can't help but to chase them. I've never met an ugly female,  father.”

Tamlin internally cringed at the word father, so informal to the earlier plea of “Dad”. “So no type?”

“Pretty, and they all are. Has to enjoy my poetry, and they all do. I have a, uh, certain way with words."

“So you seduce them with just words?”

Asher glanced up, “Why try something else when I am so good at it.” His face was filled with pride as he went to the book shelf and grabbed a leather book worn with love. He handed the heavy collection of paper to him, “Go ahead. Tell me how fantastic I am.”

Tamlin chuckled as he opened the book. It was definitely made in the Night Court, a sign of where his wife had been technically stealing from outside the obvious furniture and leathers Asher was wearing.  The pages were thick, stained slightly from ink transferring from paper to hand and back. His son's handwriting was influenced by his wife. Soft scrolls flowing together like a melody. The poetry was good, very good. “You haven't decided if you like Quatrain or Villanelle, have you?”

“No,” Asher shifted. “Should I have?”

Tamlin shook his head, “I'm over 500 years old and still bounce from around with different formats and stanza structures.” He continued reading an odd feeling setting into him before he closed the book and saw the shocked look on his son's face.

"You write poetry?!" He watched deep eyes light up and the conversation flew from there, father and son, bonding over poetry, over literature. 

The topics grew, varying from serious, to funny, to gossip. Tea constantly poured between them as they discussed being forced to train, of their mutual love of chocolate, of their favorite writers. Tamlin learned so much as the hours past before Asher asked if he wanted some fresh air.

Asher was strong, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It comforted Tamlin as they moved outside using a back magical gate made by Araceli. It took them to a vegetable garden that thrived, insects flying all around, fruit hanging from heavy trees. “Where is this place,” Tamlin looked around.

“We're still in The Middle,” Asher laid out the blanket before gently tossing his bag down. “I'm sure you secretly do recognize the cottage we're near.” The High Lord did, nodding as he studied the place he'd been told his whole life to avoid. The Weaver’s home was deadly, dangerous, and forbidden. Yet his son sat outside of it like it wasn't even phasing him. “Mom made her a deal. The Weaver likes her hair. Mom likes the protect she gives us. Once a year, mom let's The Weave cut her hair for threads in exchange for protection and us being allowed to grow this garden.”

The horrified expression on his father's face wasn't missed by Asher. A bargain with a being like The Weaver was not taken lightly. His mom worked hair to ensure her hair stayed healthy, long, and ready. The Weaver claimed her hair had some magical properties, but all Asher envisioned when he was young was the ancient being using them as some sort of enchanted tie to his mom, ready to rip her from them and eat them at any given notice. 

“Is she insane?!”

Eyes narrowed at him, “She was alone,” Asher emphasized the word making it a dagger. “She did a lot of dangerous things to protect us. You should be worshiping the very ground she walks upon.” 

Momma’s boy. 

Asher was still momma’s boy. 

Tamlin shook his head, “I love her. More than you know and understand. I love you more than you understand.”

“Loved them so much you hid them away in one of the most dangerous places in the realm?” The soft female voice had Asher smirking. Tamlin turned to face a young blonde, her hair falling in soft waves with braids placed strategically to help prevent the locks from falling into soft green eyes. 

This. This was him. Had Tamlin been born a female, this is what he'd look like. One cheek dimpled as she smiled, the asymmetry flattered her, complimenting soft cheek bones, a gently sloped nose, full blush lips. Along every inch of her face, freckles danced, marking her skin like soft kisses. 

“Sister,” a pen met paper as Asher spoke. “You are busy little bee I see.” 

Her hands were both filled with baskets almost overflowing with herbs, vegetables, edible flowers. Her nails had dirt under the nails and staining the skin. She carrying a look of pride and accomplishment Tamlin knew well. This was her garden and it was fruitful. “Your squash was ready,” she was speaking to Asher but her eyes were on Tamlin. “Momma said she could turn it into soup?” Asher nodded, but he was deep into capturing Something on page, a grunt was his only other response. She continued to stare at Tamlin, “Do you know which of your children I am?”

Tamlin wanted to roll his eyes at her, say of course, but he refrained, watching as she moved, sitting next to Asher but slightly behind him. “I know my own baby girl, Taryn,” the High Lord said. “Your dimple gives you away.” He couldn't help but reach for her cheek, but a firm hand stopped him from touching her.

“I don't believe my sister gave you permission to put your hands on her face.” A smirk of pride grew on Tamlin's face as Asher now fully looked at his father and little sister. “You may touch her when, and if, Taryn allows. Until then, no.”

Taryn leaned her head onto Asher’s shoulder as Tamlin lowered his hand. “You two are close?”

“Very,” they answered in unison.

“How were Darya and Amaya?”

“Who?”

“The river nymphs twins,” Taryn glared at Asher. “The two you've been trying to bed for a week now?”

Asher sighed and laid back, “They're impossible!”

Taryn and Tamlin glanced at him, “How so,” the high lord asked.

“They're identical! They said they only sleep with males who can tell them apart! Their hair is the same length. Their eyes both sparkle like a clear lake. They both have the perfect little nymph figure. Hair black as coal. They're gorgeous, fun, witty.” Asher covered his eyes by dramatically laying his arm across his face, “One of them I am most interested in. I believe it is Darya.”

“Does she have a shell braided Into her hair?”

Asher nodded at his sister's question, “She's.. she's just stunning. Inside and out. I may be in love."

Tamlin hid a smile as he reached into Taryn's woven basket filled with fruit and stole an apple. Asher continued telling Taryn his woes before sighing. "I wrote a new poem for her," he whispered with an air of insecurity. "I just.. wish she would respond some way, any way really.

He stood and then reached down to grab each basket, “I'll take these home. I.. I'm going to try just her. Maybe that will help?" He looked to his sister and father for some reassurance.

Taryn nodded, “I like that idea.”

“I think she's special.”

“Then she is,” Tamlin answered simply. “Go. I'll take care of Taryn.” Asher nodded, disappearing in the same gate his mother had opened.

Silence fell between the two on the blanket. The air was thick and heavy, a contrast to the brightness of his daughter's garden, to the smile on her face that didn't reach her eyes.

“You may hold me.”

4 words. 4 soft words. Spoken with hesitation, anger, grief, fear. 

Yet they opened a floodgate as a father pulled his daughter to him, the process beginning again as the sunset behind them. 

Tamlin knew his goal as he took him the scent of strawberries lingering in her blonde hair.

Board by board. Brick by brick. Nail by nail. He was going to rebuild his family. Even if doing so hurt him in the process.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

And my fellow Tamlin girlies:

@nocasdatsgay @pit-and-the-pen

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Hello, you’ve asked to send in the prompt when full hc are open so messaging as a reminder

‘M6 reaction to an Mc who has experienced abuse before

Showing signs like flinching or unexplained irritability, anxiety ‘

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC is recovering from abuse

~ thank you for the reminder anon friend! and my own reminder to whoever's reading this, nobody deserves to be broken like this. there is better, and you deserve better. ~

CW for references to memories of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, (yelling, vague violence, control, emotional manipulation) and to nontoxic behavior triggering those memories unintentionally

Julian

In all the craziness of your whirlwind romance, you two never really got to talk about your own poor relationship experiences

It just didn't come up, and then life was golden, so golden that there wasn't a point to remembering all that pain and and fear

Until he made you flinch

Completely, entirely on accident, of course, but the full-body wince and the wash of fear across your face was enough to make his heart leap into his throat. What happened, what - why?

He's a flamboyant man. He likes large, theatrical gestures, and as entertaining as they're meant to be, sometimes the sight of an outstretched hand hurtling through the air is anything but

And now he's shaking with a combination of overwhelming guilt and white-hot rage. It gnaws at his bones and boils in his veins, pushing him to make things okay and asking if he has the right to

He's immediately switching to a quiet, shaky voice, asking you first to forgive him for scaring you, and then asking if you'd be willing to tell him more about it between apologies

You know your doctor would never willingly hurt you, and you know this is something you can trust him with, but you don't expect how angry he is. He'll rave about how wrong it was if you let him

He does his best to tone down the gestures, and is always, always ready to remind you how cherished you deserve to be

Asra

They already knew about the past before you two began your relationship - there's a reason you haven't seen or heard a single thing about the source of your pain since you came back

And as long as he was your caretaker, and then your friend, you never had cause to worry because of him. But then things became romantic, and well - some things were easier to deal with before

You love their spontaneity and daydreamy presence, but that level of unpredictability is difficult to interpret when the object of your affections regularly forgets to communicate

Are they just that deeply lost in thought, daydreaming for hours on end, or are they studiously ignoring your attempts to connect?

Is this really a sudden "just because I love you" show of affection, or is it time to brace yourself for some awful things to come?

You know with a heart like his beating steadily in your chest, there's no real doubt when it comes to how deeply and faithfully and purely he loves you. All it takes is a flick of magic to remember

But you also know how terrifying unpredictability can be, and you find yourself on occasion slipping into a fawning state out of habit

They catch on almost immediately, hating the way you suddenly seem to be tiptoeing around them, and push past their nature to bring it out into the open so they can reassure you

So happy to adjust it's hard to believe you were ever nervous

Nadia

She picked up on several signals as she was courting you, and while she didn't want to make you uncomfortable, she didn't hesitate to bring them up. Tell her as much as you're willing to

Of course, her first response was to lay out her own intentions and expectations regarding the relationship she wanted to build with you. She wants you to keep her accountable to giving you the best

It really has felt like a thing of the past ever since, with one exception that you really don't know how to bring up

Your beloved Countess has a very commanding presence. It's one of the many things you adore about her, but on occasion, it has the unintended effect of making you feel stifled - controlled

Announcing a dinner that night which you hadn't been aware of. Selecting your outfits for you. Making a strong opinion known before asking for your perspective, challenging you to disagree

Things that you know come from a place of love and respect, but that remind you a bit too much of a time when there was neither

She picks up on it more slowly than she would've liked to, the way you seem to shrink just a little bit smaller when she tries to help

To her, you're a capable, intelligent, strong person, and the thought hadn't occurred that you might prefer your choices be protected, even from herself. She's humbled. And she loves you

Makes extra sure to make space for you, all of you, every moment

Muriel

For such a large man, he moves unexpectedly quietly

Here are the other things he does quietly: thinking, eating, breathing, resting, working, sleeping ... everything ...

And sometimes, all that quiet starts to feel less like you're around an introverted gentle giant, and more like the silent treatment

Which means you must have done something wrong

But you don't know what you did wrong, and when you live with someone as extremely conflict averse as Muriel, you know that getting him to tell you what you did wrong is very hard to do

And so the anxiety spiral begins, attempting to fix a habit or adjust a behavior, only for the silence to stretch on, and on, and on ...

Muriel, on the other hand, knows that something is bothering you but isn't sure what it is. It was easy to pick up during your time together that your life hadn't been all sunshine and rainbows either

But he's not one to pry, or to do anything that might trigger you, and knowing how much space to himself helps him sort things out, he makes sure to give you as much of that as possible

He doesn't realize that it's not what you need until you approach him one day, clearly distressed, and worriedly ask what you've done wrong. You haven't done anything wrong

He's still quiet, but he's picked up a habit of humming now, so that even in the quiet moments aren't completely silent

Portia

It wasn't hard for her to tell that you weren't used to the type of romantic relationship that made your life better and not worse. Curiosity aside, she wants to know so she understand you better

She wants this opportunity to show you the excitement and healing of finally finding your partner-in-crime. And she does!

This woman is nothing if not passionate

Why hide your emotions when they make you stronger? Why hold back? Why suppress yourself when there's so much color and life and excitement in this world?

There's just ... one tiny issue

Her unbridled emotional intensity is one of her strongest assets and one of the things that gives you the strength and courage to push through the darkest moments

However, it does at times remind you of a much less controlled and safe intensity that was often directed straight at you, designed more to frighten you than to communicate with you

Sudden excited tackle-hugs feel a bit too much like being grabbed and pinned. Vocal expressions of anger at another person's poor behavior feel like a lead up to being blamed for it somehow

Being as empathetic as she is, Portia picks up on this almost instantly and barely needs to be told what you need to feel safe

Besides, she can always go rant at her unsuspecting brother

Lucio

There are some things that this delightful work in progress of a man won't notice until he gets hit in the face with them

Examples include things like "if the usual opinion around making deals with demons is negative, it's probably for a good reason" or "oopsies have consequences, sometimes"

There's no doubt that he loves you and that he's wholeheartedly committed to protecting you. These are things that he's loud and proud about reminding you. Emphasis on loud. He likes to yell!

Whether to emphasize a point or to express an emotion, or just because he's in the woods/at a party/going shopping and that's what you do when you're in that space, his default volume is 95%

And as much as you know the volume is exactly that - a default - it too often feels like a warning instead. Like someone wants nothing in your ears except what they have to say to you

Lucio doesn't realize the effect he's having until he starts to feel unheard, ironically enough. It's like you don't talk back to him anymore, like he's back in that twilight zone of being unheard

When he tells you his stories, you don't interject, you don't add your own embellishments, you don't seem caught up in it

It's his question, "why won't you talk to me?", that has everything tumbling out into the open. He's furious that you got so much less than you deserved, and hurt that he hurt you

... Would you like to yell with him, next time?

[wheelie-sick]

so, just spouting some anti psychiatry thoughts

a good psychiatrist does not negate that psychiatry as an industry and a system is inherently abusive

I would say I have a good psychiatrist- I have never been institutionalized against my will (even when standards would suggest it) I have never been forced on medications I did not want to take and I have not had my mental illnesses or the effects of the medicalized (my psychiatrist recognizes that these exist in a societal context and only manages what I want managed and what I see as a problem)

I would say that all of these things make my psychiatrist one of the better psychiatrists

and yet the system forces him to be a bad psychiatrist. the system forces his hand on things like institutionalization, refusing to participate in the abusive system could get his license revoked. there is no denying that despite the fact that he has avoided institutionalizing me in situations where other people would he has without a doubt institutionalized other people because his job requires him to do so. he has fallen victim to the pharmaceutical industry and its abuses against mentally ill people (and no, I'm not anti-medication, I am on 6 to manage my mental illnesses. I just recognize that the pharmaceutical industry is rife with abuse) because he has no power to exist outside of a system that seeks to profit off of and control the lives of mentally ill people. he is forced to give into the therapy system as well, referring people to providers that proceed to abuse (and rarely help) their patients whether he knows this or not.

and that makes him a bad psychiatrist. because the system is bad, all people within that system are bad. you either give into the system and become a bad psychiatrist through harming your patients or you defy the system and become a bad psychiatrist by breaking the rules. either way the result is the same- bad psychiatrist. I'd also argue that to some extent if someone truly was a psychiatrist without harm they wouldn't be a psychiatrist at all because the abuse is present in all aspects of the job.

and while I do not believe my psychiatrist ever meant to do me harm the system he exists within has undeniably harmed me. I have been shuffled through 4 different therapists who all failed to help me and, for 3 of them, made me worse. I will never forget my last therapist who held institutionalization over my head to force me to share information I was uncomfortable sharing. I was referred to these therapists by my psychiatrist. my psychiatrist might have no interest in institutionalizing me but if that therapist had reported that I was imminently suicidal or vaguely "a danger to myself" (regardless of whether it was true or not) it would have forced my psychiatrist's hand in the matter.

and I want to make it clear that the damage of psychiatry as an institution goes so much deeper than this, this post is a surface level view of it and surface level examples.

there are no good psychiatrists in a bad system