#and i could go on for So Long about how rey forcing five to have long matted uncut poorly cared for hair that feels miserable

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i am Thinking about nine and his hair, how his relationship with it and autonomy, and with caring for himself through it--and lack of such--are so much of a direct response to the type of abuse he went through from sandor, and to escaping from it, and how it is a near perfect foil to five's relationship with his hair and augh AUGH chews on a table it's so interesting and i could write so much about it, i really really wish they had kept NL!nine for that alone

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 You Says.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: After a rough night and some misunderstandings, Spencer needs to do everything he can to make things right with you and get his relationship back on track. The problem is, things aren't so easy for you, and he's willing to do anything you ask, even take care of you when no one else will.

Words: 3,1k.

TW: mentions of crime and trauma (normal warnings in the serie. angst+comfort. the reader gets sick (nothing serious, just a normal cold). a little mention of spencer's past traumas. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Ok, I didn't think of doing a second part before, but reading my own work made me so sad😭 the cat deserves happy parents (we are the cat) but I warn you that I do not believe in magic apologies.

As an interesting side note, both parts of this story are named after children's games. In this case, it's for "Simon Says," which I thought was pretty cool because in this part, Spencer literally does whatever the reader wants.

I also want to thank you for the support you gave to the first part and for the 300 followers💝 I could not say it before but it makes me very happy.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Spencer had been losing his mind since the last time he saw you in person, and it was all his fault. From the moment the door to his apartment closed behind you and the oven beeped, he began to feel the broken pieces of his heart that you had once held together unravel and shatter even more. He hated himself for letting his insecurities get in the way of the one good thing he had managed to have over the past few years, and for pushing you away when you didn't want to. You had been his exception among all the bad things that had happened in his life for as long as he could remember, the only one that didn't seem to want to be temporary and left him when he least expected it. And he himself had forced you out of his life, even when you didn't want to, begging him with tear-filled eyes for a little remorse that he didn't give you.

Just a few hours after the incident, he tried to go to work as if nothing had happened to clean up the mess the leak had made and put the killer in jail. He brought Penelope the promised cookies and your computer for her to examine because it felt right at the time. Part of him needed her to find real proof of your betrayal so he could stop feeling bad about making you cry and saying such ugly things to you.

Then he found out that you were telling the truth and that your computer contained nothing but photos of the two of you, all the articles he had ever written or been mentioned in your searches, and a few writings in which you poured out all your love for him in the cheesiest and most poetic way possible. You loved him, you really did, and there was no evidence to the contrary, because even Garcia could later assure him that the information had come anonymously and had been bought for five hundred dollars. But it was too late, because he had given you a conviction without even knowing it.

That's when he started to fixate on making amends for what he'd done. Every time you left work, bouquets of your favorite flowers with notes asking for forgiveness and wishing you a good night began to appear in your car. He also made a point of stopping by to talk to you and repeat how sorry he was. You knew this would happen when he realized his mistake. You had told him before you left, and that's why you refused to see him. It was good that the security guards at your workplace didn't let him in, even with his FBI credentials. The tricky part was your building because the doorman already knew him and let him in normally thanks to the excuses Spencer made up, even though you said a thousand times that he shouldn't have.

And that was happening again, for the fifth or sixth time in the last few days.

“Please, just let me talk to you and tell you how sorry I am. Listen to me for a moment.” You could hear Reid's voice from the other side of the door.

You didn't say anything. You just sat with your back against the door and one hand on your heart, as if you were trying to hold it. It didn't even cross your mind that he was in the same situation.

“Just a few minutes, please."

Once more, you remained silent.

Silence was the worst answer someone could give. You knew it, and it hurt to have to do it with him. But you had no choice because you knew that by looking into his eyes for just a few seconds, all the bad things would dissipate and maybe you would even forgive him without thinking just because of the love you had for him. You didn't like being this vulnerable and having so many feelings for someone who didn't trust you.

Lately, you've been spending every waking moment wondering what you could have done to make him believe that you were really capable of betraying him in such a cruel and selfish way. You were the one who woke up in the middle of the night to try to comfort him every time he had a nightmare or couldn't sleep. You drove to his apartment no matter what time it was to make sure he was okay. You lost your breath repeating that he was safe with you. You drank many cups of coffee the next day so you wouldn't fall asleep on the job every time the situation repeated itself. That's why you started sleeping in his apartment, wrapped in his arms because he said it made him happy to wake up and see you. And even with all that, Spencer was able to believe that you didn't love him.

You were running your hands through your hair and sighing, trying to block out all the thoughts running through your head, when you heard his phone ring. You could tell it was important by the way he spoke and changed his tone of voice, so you got up from the floor at the same time he did to put your ear to the door.

“I really have to go now, but could you open up a little bit so I can take a quick look at you?” He asked in a pleading tone after hanging up the call. “Please, I know you can hear me. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door.”

You really thought he didn't know you were there, feeling like a fool for listening to every word he said.

“If you want to see me, turn on the TV.” Your voice finally reached Spencer, and it gave him a glimmer of hope. It was the first time you had spoken to him since that night, and even though there was a door between the two of you, you were talking to him.

“It's not enough.”

“And it's not my problem.”

That was more hurtful than your silence.

“I know, it's mine.” He replied after a couple of seconds, trying to process everything. “And I will do everything I can to fix it...I have to go now, but take care of yourself. The nights have been getting colder lately, so wrap up warm.”

You knew it was a bit silly to think of that now, but his attention to detail was impressive. Since you did the evening news, you used to get off work very late, and the change from air conditioning to the city cold was quite a lot. Spencer had cited scientific studies to you many times to make you aware and know what kind of clothing materials to use to avoid a cold. You missed that a lot.

If he had the same attitude as the night of the conflict, it would be easier. You could hate him and stop loving him so strongly.

“I love you, William misses you and so do I.”

You frowned because you didn't know anyone by that name.

“William?”

“Our cat.” He answered simply. “When we talked about how we would name him, you said that a lot of people name their pets after their favorite characters. You love the movie ‘Notting Hill’ and whenever we watch it, you always say you like Hugh Grant's character named William. It also means strong-willed warrior. I just thought you would like it.”

You didn't say anything at the time because you had to cover your hand with your mouth to keep from doing so, but you liked it and you liked it too much. Once again, he focused on the details.

“You can change it if you want because I don't know if he likes it, but what I do know is that he misses you. He lies on your blanket and starts meowing, and he also looks at the door. I certainly think that every time I come home he expects it to be you.” He kept talking as he received no response from you. “It sounds like I'm talking about myself. And it's true because it happens to me the same way.”

When he paused, a tear escaped and fell down your cheek. It wasn't fair for him to say those things now.

“If you want to see him and me not being there, you can send me a message...but I'd really like to be.” He paused again, as if searching for the perfect words.

What did it cost him to have searched for the perfect words the night he distrusted you?

“I must go, I love you.”

The last thing you heard before he left was Spencer's footsteps heading towards the elevator.

Just two weeks later, you realized that maybe you should have listened to Spencer when he said the nights were getting too cold. If you had, now you probably wouldn't be lying on your bed with an unbearable flu and no one there to bring you soup or a cold washcloth for your forehead because your mother was taking too long to get to city.

When you were younger, you thought it was a great idea to get as far away from your hometown as possible. Now, however, you realize that you need a familiar face to take care of you because you can't do it alone all the time.

You felt a sense of relief when you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Mom? I'm really hungry and the soup is all gone.” You spoke in a tired tone as you heard footsteps approaching. But at that moment, you watched as the cat you shared with Reid jumped onto the bed and started purring at you.

You thought you were hallucinating from the fever until you saw Spencer walking into your room with a couple of bags.

“I know you were expecting your mother, but we brought you soup and medicine.” He said, sitting up in bed to look closely at you and put a hand on your forehead. “You're burning up.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his touch.

“Your mother called me because she couldn't find a flight today and was very worried. She asked me to take care of you.”

Of course she did, because she adored him and didn't know that things were bad between you two.

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You barely settled into bed and petted the cat. “Go to work, make sure no one leaks information.”

Oh, that was a low blow for him.

“I asked for a few days off because you have a high fever and someone needs to take care of you.”

“You don't have to...”

“I want to.” He said, interrupting you and putting a cold cloth on your forehead.

“Just because you're looking out for me doesn't mean I'm going to forget everything and forgive you.” You clarified right away, trying not to lose focus because of the relief you felt thanks to the cold compress.

“I know, and I don't expect you to. Just let me take care of you now, forget you hate me until you get better. I won't take advantage of this, I swear.” He looked at you with a serious gaze, as if he were swearing an oath. “Please.”

God, not puppy dog eyes now.

You used to love it when he looked at you with those sparkling eyes. Now, though, you felt manipulated by it.

“Fine, give me the soup.” You finally agreed, knowing you didn't have much of a choice. “Just a warning, please don't answer any calls near me. I can listen in and use the information to hire a nurse.”

He ignored the comment and didn't bring it up to make you uncomfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, and his eyes searched yours as he spoke.

“Is there anything else besides soup I can bring you? More tissues, or maybe some medicine?” He asked in a soft, soothing voice.

You shook your head, still a bit dazed by the situation and your stomach rumbling. You watched as Spencer disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear his footsteps echoing throughout the house, followed by the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of the stove being turned on. You could only lie back on your bed, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you.

A few minutes later, he came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and sat down next to you on the bed, being careful not to spill anything.

“Are you planning to feed me soup?” You asked, with a hint of irony in your voice, as you watched me hold the spoon and watch you.

“If you wish, I'll be happy to.” He replied simply and brought the spoon gently to your mouth.

“I'm not a baby.”

Especially not his baby.

“You hate me, I know. But I really want to take care of you, and I won't leave until at least your mother arrives.” He paused for a second, as if to catch his breath. “If you don't want me around, that's okay, I'll just sit in the corner of the room or in the living room in silence. It hurts, but I'll take whatever you want.”

You remained silent for several seconds, dedicating yourself to stroking the cat to avoid Spencer's gaze.

“I don't hate you.” Was the only thing you could say at the time.

Something inside you was expecting a more exaggerated reaction for letting your guard down a bit, or maybe you were just too feverish. The thing was, he had only given you a small, almost non-existent smile.

“I know.” He finally spoke and gently adjusted the cold compress on your forehead. “And that's why I hate myself.”

At that moment, while you were trying to make sense of how things had changed so much in just a week, he was watching you.

Spencer was waiting for you to explode, to tell him how sorry you were for getting involved with him and his complicated world, that it was all one big mistake that you would regret forever. He was expecting disaster, pain, tears, and a lot of chaos.

But you didn't give him any of that.

Just a sweet nothing.

He could tell at that moment that even though you were in a feverish state and had many reasons to be cruel, you would not be. He realized that you would never yell at him or do anything to hurt him, that the most painful thing you could give him was your silence. And it was then that he confirmed that you loved him the way he thought he did not deserve to be loved: honestly and genuinely.

“Why?” You whispered after a few minutes of silence. “Why are you with me if you don't trust me?”

“I trust you.” He looked you straight in the eye as he spoke, trying to show that he was being completely sincere. “I just don't trust myself.”

You frowned and let out a groan from the discomfort in your forehead. You weren't sure if you were hallucinating because of the cold or if Spencer was really shivering.

“I don't think I'm good enough for you, or deserve you, or that you love me because you want to.” He finally admitted, his voice slightly shaky. He seemed to be in a worse state than you. “It's silly because you've never given me a reason to distrust you.”

“I know you thought I was going to leave. But I didn't want to leave until you asked me to.” You were close to crying, so you pretended to sneeze to hide your watery eyes. You didn't want to show how vulnerable you were. “It was easier to distrust me and blame me like I was just another bad person you catch.”

“Yes, but...” He replied, trying to answer your question.

“Don't talk. It's my turn.”

He nodded after a few seconds, watching you with concern. “Just be careful, you're still sick.”

You already knew how sick you were and how deplorable you probably looked, but you wanted to say it all and stop feeling a lump in your throat.

“You say you trust me, but you really don't, and I've been trying to understand you for almost a year, Spencer. It's been eleven months of trying not to invade your space, avoiding topics that make you tense or your eyes glaze over.” You had to stop to catch your breath and drink some water with his help. “And you think I don't understand you or really know you, but I do. I know how all your dishes are arranged, I know how you like to fold clothes and eat toast, I know that chess reminds you of someone because your eyes get watery every time we see a board, I know about the book signed by Maeve that you hide in your closet and about which you tense up every time I'm near, I know about your nightmares about prison that you don't like to talk about, and about your mother's favorite colors that change every day. I know so much about you, and yet you think I know nothing.”

Once more, there was a long, quiet pause.

“I'm so sorry.” He held your hands as he repeated the same thing, this time with a truly sincere tone. The whole room was still tense as his knees touched the floor, and the apology he gave you seemed like a plea. “I'm really sorry. I know you don't want apologies, you want trust, and I'm going to show you that.”

You didn't say anything as he sat down next to you on the bed.

“I trust you, that's why I always tell you about my cases. And I will tell you about all my past, if you want, because for me you are my present and my future...of course, only if you still want to.”

The eyes of both of you were fixed on the cat you shared, who was purring and lying very comfortably in the middle of the bed. It was nice to know that at least one of the three of you was happy.

“Tell me.”

And just as you asked, he told you everything because he wanted to show you that he trusted you.

This time he really trusted.

[hamsterclaw]

hey there rei my ult bias in fanfic writing ☺️

I am not sure if you grant request. I am just really bummed out with work these days. Working overseas is completely burning me out. Reading your works bring me to another dimension, and I am grateful for you always.

Seeing Namjoon yestie with his woes about how shit happens. He even mentioned specifically about relationships... (like who hurt him?)

He looks so hot(as always) but that live was just giving me a lot of angst vibes or something.

Angry sex has always been a turn on to me. I wanna relive it in your words if it'a possible? haha

Anyhow, I love you for always.

Thank you for you..

Love and light ♡

-Chant

Hey Chant, sorry to hear work is hard — living away is so tough too. I read this and thought of the dent in the wall Namjoon made that’s referenced in Five Fuck Friday and this drabble was born. Hope you enjoy it and that it helps! Sending much love your way.

Pairing: Namjoon x f! Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing, spanking, angry Namjoon punching a wall

Namjoon turns off the car engine, a flick of a switch, and there’s a beat, two, of absolute silence that you know, you just know doesn’t bode well for you.

Your husband, for all his carelessness with your heart, has never once made you feel physically unsafe.

Not in all the years you’ve known him.

You’re aware of the size difference between you, how could you not be? It’s evident everyday, when you have to adjust the front seat after he’s been in the car just so you can reach the pedals, when you have to grab a stool to get something off a high shelf in the kitchen that Namjoon could reach effortlessly.

When he’s on top of you, so caught in the throes of his pleasure he forgets not to let you take his full weight. How he steals your breath in so many ways.

But, truly, your husband’s never been like this before.

He gives you a long look in the dark of the car park, a muscle ticking in his jaw. No sign of the dimples you love.

Namjoon exits the car, yanks your door open for you. He’s so close he’s crowding you, you have to turn your head to prevent your face from hitting his broad chest, the way he’s leaning over you.

‘Joon,’ you say, a quiet protest, and he scoffs.

‘Joon,’ he spits. ‘Remember me? Your husband?’

He holds up his hand, platinum wedding band glinting as you head to the entrance to your building.

‘Didn’t you put this ring on my finger, wife?’

His voice has dropped to almost a growl, and your unease ramps up a notch.

‘Answer me,’ he snaps, when you’re in the lift to your floor, glowering at you, so big he takes up almost an entire side of the tiny lift.

You force yourself to look up at his face.

‘I did,’ you say, fighting to keep your voice steady.

Namjoon watches as you fish your keys out of your bag, try unsuccessfully to unlock the front door of your apartment.

He moves so quickly you startle, large hand closing over yours to help you turn the key, other hand braced on the door next to your head to push it open.

You flick the switch, automatically, step out of your shoes, take two tentative steps down the hallway.

‘Where. The. Fuck. Do. You. Think. You’re. Going.’

The fury in your husband’s voice makes you tremble.

You’re breathing shallowly, because he’s starting to scare you now.

The crash next to your head makes you jump, scream.

You stare in shock at the dent in the plaster your husband’s made with his fist.

Namjoon, your college fuckbuddy turned new husband, a man who’d rather fuck than talk, has just punched a hole in the wall of your shared apartment.

You turn to him, shocked into silence.

He takes a step towards you, and you flinch back against the wall.

Namjoon stops dead.

He stares at you, the anger in his face melting into dismay as he studies your expression.

‘Fuck,’ he says, but there’s no heat in his voice now.

‘Fuck, baby, are you scared of me?’

You freeze.

Namjoon drops to his knees in front of you.

‘Shit. I’d never — you know I’d never —‘

He reaches for your hand. ‘I’d never touch you, not like that,’ he says, voice hoarse, shaky.

He nudges his face into your blouse, presses his cheek to your stomach, and when you reach for him he presses into you eagerly.

‘Tell me to shut up,’ he says, looking up at you. ‘Don’t just put up with it if I’m scaring you, baby.’

‘You weren’t really scaring me,’ you tell him, and he groans.

‘I’m sorry,’ he tells you. ‘I’m fucking sorry.’

He’s nudged your blouse open now, tugged it out of your skirt, pressing kisses to your skin. His mouth, warm and wet, makes you shiver as his lips travel down your belly, to the band of your panties.

You reach down to help him unclasp your skirt, but Namjoon, a veteran of getting you out of your clothes, shakes his head. In a split second he's tugging down your skirt, exposing your underwear, your bare thighs.

He kisses your core over the cotton of your underwear, and you can feel the warmth of him through the material. You suck in a breath as his tongue pokes against your clit.

'Take it off, Joon-ah,' you moan.

Namjoon, on his knees, yanks your panties down, seals his mouth over your bare cunt. He doesn't start slow, just throws your thigh over his shoulder and kisses your cunt like he's starving for it, tongue delving deep, slurping at your arousal, swallowing audibly.

He's messy, as desperate as he's making you feel, and when you reach down to card your fingers through his hair, he groans.

He pulls back, eyes hot. 'Pull my hair, baby. Make me eat you ---'

'You like that?' you ask, breathless. Your husband's a sight to behold right now, lips gleaming with your slick, eyes hooded, hair mussed even though it's been shorter lately.

'Fuck, yeah,' Namjoon grunts. 'Fuck.'

You tug his hair, pull his face between your legs, and Namjoon opens his mouth wide, laps at your clit. His big hand moves from where he's steadying your thigh over his shoulder, and a moment later you feel his fingers pressing into you.

'Joon,' you moan.

Namjoon says nothing, concentrating on fucking you with his fingers, licking at your clit, spreading you open with his other hand.

Your fingers tighten in his hair as you come, and Namjoon moans in approval as you buck your hips into his face.

Your knees weaken, and Namjoon tugs you into his arms.

You're still pulsing around nothing when he pushes you down on your bed, undoes his belt.

You want to watch him undress but he grunts, tugs your hip.

'Turn over, ass up,' he tells you. 'You're gonna get fucked.'

You turn, and Namjoon drops to his knees again, licks a stripe up your cunt.

'Taste so fucking good,' he says, voice low, taut.

He scissors two fingers into you from behind, pulls out, and then he's nudging into you.

He feels fucking huge like this, like you can feel him all way in the back of your throat.

Namjoon groans, long and loud. 'Fuh -- uh -- uck.'

He stays completely still once he's filled you, one hand on your ass, kneading hard.

Then, he pulls out.

You turn your head to look at him in surprise.

He's hard, so hard, cock bobbing as he grasps himself.

'This is for you,' he tells you, voice strained. 'This is how fucking hard I get for you.'

You're not sure where he's going with this.

'You were flirting, weren't you, with Jia's brother, at dinner?'

You try to turn over but he's too quick.

His palm meets your ass in an open handed smack.

You squeak in surprise, try to turn over but he stops you.

'You can make it stop, you know how ---' He's stern, but you know what he's really checking.

You search your memory frantically for the safeword you agreed once when you were both drunk and horny.

'I know how,' you tell him, and Namjoon studies your face.

He nods like he's satisfied.

He spanks you again, rings cold against the flesh of your backside, and you moan.

'I wasn't.'

Namjoon laughs, darkly. 'Don't lie to me.'

He hits you again, and this time it stings so much you cry out.

You know Namjoon will keep going unless you tell him to stop.

Shit, you don't want him to stop.

Namjoon strokes a finger along your slit, enters you shallowly. You try to push against him but he pulls his hand away.

'So fucking greedy,' he scoffs.

He's still fisting his cock, and you could cry at how much you want him back inside you.

'Fine,' you say. 'I was flirting, a bit. But you were flirting too!'

For the second time tonight, your husband stops dead.

'What?'

'You were flirting with Jia and that woman with the green dress,' you point out.

You turn over, and for once Namjoon doesn't leer at your tits.

He's staring at your face.

'Did that bother you?' he asks.

You lift up your hand. Your diamond wedding band flashes. 'You put this ring on my finger too.'

For a moment Namjoon gapes at you.

'I don't want to fuck anyone but you,' Namjoon says, finally.

'Same,' you tell him.

Namjoon pulls you on top of him, mouth seeking yours. You can taste yourself on him still.

'Fuck, get inside me, Joon,' you gasp.

Namjoon grasps you tight against his chest, pulls you under him, enters you all the way in one movement.

'Fuck,' he utters. His hips move, he fucks into you, deep, slow, letting you feel every inch of the drag of his cock inside you.

You’re still so wet from his mouth and your own arousal the slide is easy, his pelvis grinding against your clit on every deep thrust.

‘Joon-ah,’ you moan.

‘I’m here,’ he tells you. ‘I’m here, fuck, it’s me.’

You curl an arm around his neck, and he drops his face willingly so you can press kisses to his cheeks as he fucks you.

‘I’m gonna come,’ he grunts. ‘You feel so good —-‘

You want to tell him it’s ok but he thumbs your clit, plunges in deep, and you moan his name again as you come. Namjoon picks up the pace, pounding into you hard until he groans and you feel him filling you with his warmth.

It’s a while before either of you say anything.

Namjoon curls an arm around you, kisses the top of your head.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

You run your fingers over his bruised knuckles.

Eventually you say, ‘I was a little scared.’

He sighs. ‘I know. I never want to see that again. Tell me to shut up next time.’

He nuzzles under your ear.

‘You know I’d never hurt you like that, don’t you?’ he asks.

In your heart of hearts you do know.

You want to tell him that, but what comes out when you open your mouth is, ‘are you gonna fix the wall?’

‘Yeah, promise,’ he says.

He pulls you under him, seals it with a kiss.

©hamsterclaw 2023

[gentrychild]

So, we have a few Anyone time travel fics. But this is what I'd kill for: while on a job Shouto is hit by a quirk. Next thing he knows he's back at his father's place, except things seem different. That's when he sees himself in the mirror, he time travelled. Now Shouto is stuck as a chubby-cheeked toddler who wants to keep his big brother around, stop his mom from having a mental breakdown and convince his dad to send him to a public school so that he can befriend his future platonic soulmate

Oh, this has the potential to be absolutely hilarious.

Shouto is very aware of what's waiting for him. His brother almost dying and running away. His mother's break down. Endeavor being Endeavor. He will have to wait ten years before being happy again and let's be honest, he isn't waiting that long.

Fortunately, he has read enough manhwa with time travel to know what to do. His first target is Touya, who still hates him at the time but who isn’t crispy yet. Shouto follows him around, proclaiming that he adores his brother. Touya hates it at first but Shouto is very adorable and slowly wins him over.

Natsuo and Fuyumi are very jealous that Touya is Shouto’s favorite. Shouto doesn’t care. Shouto can now play football with his siblings and have semi normal bonds with them.

One of the early storylines would be Endeavor suddenly having to deal with his small child flat out not caring about him anymore/actively disliking him. (Remember that this is pre training.) This feels extremely weird since their parents are everything to children and he slowly grows desperate because Shouto apparently hates him? Out of the blue? Rei, who has stopped watching her kids swith eagle eyes in fear of what her children could do to each other, is happy that they finally get along, points out that he isn’t passing enough time with the kids. Endeavor has a realization and tries to be a better dad. (The results are varied.)

Endeavor: “I have decided to take some vacations to spend more time with my lovely family!“

Touya: “Really? It’s the first time you-”

Shouto: “No one asked you.”

Endeavor: T_T

Baby Shouto keeps following Touya around with a fire extinguisher that is bigger than him. Just in case.

When Shouto is five, All Might disappears from the radar for a couple of months, right after an island was vaporized. Shouto realizes that the AFO and All Might fight happened and that Izuku is now dadless and about to become destitute. He informs his dad that he is moving elementary school. More precisely, that he is going to transfer to a very sub par elementary school that isn’t even in the same town he lives.

Endeavor: “How about no?”

Shouto: “I wasn’t asking.”

To summarize, Shouto might have run away from his perfectly good elementary school and reappeared in Izuku and Katsuki’s elementary school. The number 2 hero in person comes and retrieves his toddler.

Sadly, Izuku wasn’t here that day because he was so sad that his dad hadn’t even called for his birthday that he stayed home.

After several similar incidents, Endeavor and Rei force Shouto to tell him what is going on.

Baby Shouto, grabbing baby Izuku by the shoulder: “This is my best friend, Izuku. If I am not in the same school as him, I will cry.”

Izuku: “I don’t know this boy. His eyes scare me.”

Shouto: “I have unlimited budget for All Might merch that I am willing to share with my friends.”

Izuku: “...”

Izuku: “Ah yes, Shouto, my best friend. I add that I will also cry if he doesn’t get what he wants and yes, this is a flooding threat.”

Shouto becomes Izuku’s best friend/fierce protector, which makes things fun for Bakugou. Izuku is not bullied. (Shouto was called to the principal’s office several times but Bakugo < the son of the number 2. Izuku and Shouto probably transfers when they reach middle school. Inko still goes abroad to work and the Todorokis offer to take Izuku in but Izuku is fiercely independent, so they just keep an eye on him.

Years pass but no trace of Anyone appears.

Shouto realizes that Anyone was created because Izuku needed support and now that he has Shouto, it’s not needed anymore. At first, he doesn’t know how to feel about it. It feels like he deprived Izuku of a part of himself.

But in the end, if it means his best friend didn’t have to go through all that hardship, it’s worth it.

The very next day, Izuku appears with a broken arm and a toddler, admitting that he might have hidden from Shouto his slightly illegal organization and his plan to steal All Might’s quirk so he wouldn’t be implicated. But everything went to hell. Now, he needs help.

Shouto is delighted.

And will have his revenge on Izuku not making him part of the quirk heist operation.

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Do you think that Rey's story (excluding episode 9 'cause that was a shitshow) could be interpreted as a Cinderella/Ash girl story?

I hope you realize asking me this is like throwing chum to a shark 😈. But the short answer is yes, to a point.

The long answer is more complicated, so to begin with, let's consult the Cinderella bible:

According to the Aarne Thompson Uther Index, there are five primary motifs to a Cinderella tale:

Persecuted heroine, usually by family

Help or helper, usually magic

Meeting the prince, usually with true identity disguised

Identification or penetration of disguise, usually by means of an object

Marriage to the prince

Rey is abandoned by her family, which is a form of persecution, and harassed by the inhabitants of Jakku like Unkar Plutt. Thus she clearly fulfills the first item.

As for meeting a helper, there are several for her, including Han Solo, Maz, Luke, and Leia. Any or all of these may be considered fairy godparents in the way that they offer her wisdom and material help. Further, except for Maz, they all die in the course of the story, which is consistent with many Cinderella tales in which the helper dies and their bones continue to offer wisdom and comfort to the heroine.

Next, meeting the prince. I mean

To the extent that Rey is "in disguise' here, it would be the extent of her force powers, her destiny as Ben Solo's dyad mate, and her role as the heir apparent to the Jedi (chosen by the Force to wield the legacy saber), all of which are obscured from Kylo Ren when he discovers her in the forest. Further, she is grimy and covered in desert sand, similar to how Cinderella is smeared with ashes that hide her true beauty.

So now an object penetrates the disguise. This is obviously the Skywalker lightsaber, which reveals Rey to be everything listed above, especially when she calls it to her on Starkiller Base, and again when she wields it on Ahch-to.

And lastly, marriage to the prince. As many others have pointed out over the years, Rey and Ben have almost too many symbolic marriages to count in the course of the sequel trilogy. They're extremely married, the Force said so.

BUT WAIT! Go back and look at that list again. Who ELSE fits all those criteria?

It's our boy! Consider:

He is indeed persecuted by family, most notably when Luke momentarily considers killing him.

Ben's helpers are both dark and light, as Snoke/Palpatine guide him in the dark while Luke guides him in the light (poorly). But note again what I said above about the bones of the mentor continuing to offer guidance and comfort after their death. Who should appear at Ben's lowest hour but his departed father, Han Solo? With a message of love, acceptance, and encouragement, Han's memory (because in fairy tales, bones contain memory) encourages Ben to at last cast off his beastly skin and become who he always was.

Next, meeting the prince/ss in disguise. He's wearing a literal mask when he meets Rey, so yeah.

An object penetrates the disguise? Rey slashed his face with the legacy saber, thus symbolically peeling away his mask. And I've argued before that the stabbing in TROS (which I still HATE, btw) is another cutting or burning away of the beastly skin.

And lastly, marriage to the prince/ss. As previously stated, that happened. Many times.

So yes, the Sequel Trilogy can definitely be considered a Cinderella story, with but one glaring issue: Cinderella's husband usually doesn't die at the end. But that's another topic that's been done to death, so let's all just read some more fanfic and forget about it. 👑 Thank you for the ask, this was fun!

[takingchences]

𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐩𝐭. 𝟔

A descendant of a legendary quirk longs to separate herself from her family name, but first she'll have to confront villains, ghosts from the past, and her growing attraction for Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x OP!fem!oc

Warnings: mature language

If you wish to join the taglist let me know! Thank you for reading and an early Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!

series masterlist + my masterlist

After the reporters were escorted off campus, the rest of the day went smoothly. Bakugou was back to his usual boisterous self, which Sana was actually happy about (not that she'd ever admit it).

Momo offered to treat the girls at a nearby cafe, but Sana declined. The girl felt exhausted after such an exciting day and longed for her bed. There was a part of her that dreaded going home though. Thanks to Bakugou, she'd managed to evade the press and their questions, but she was afraid that somehow her father had found out anyway and was waiting for her.

So Sana walked as slowly as possible, dragging out the twenty minute walk back to her house to about thirty-five minutes. She'd barely touched the knob before the door swung open. Carefully, she poked her head inside. The entryway was empty, and no footsteps could be heard approaching. The solar powered girl wiped away an invisible drop of sweat. Thank God he's not-

"Why are you just standing there?"

Sana shrieked, jumping back in fright.

Umi stood hidden behind the door, a duster in hand. Her other hand was still on the doorknob. The young girl doubled over, clutching her chest in fear that the vital organ might break free from her chest. Dammit. She'd actually felt the years being taken off her lifespan.

"I saw you walking up through the window," the housekeeper put a fist on her hip. Her head was tilted to the left, taking in the hunched figure before her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the solar girl sighed, pulling herself up to face the older woman. "Is he-"

"Gone. He's been in and out of meetings all afternoon." Sana breathed a sigh of relief. For now, she was safe. She noticed how Umi's eyes glanced behind her towards the street before returning to her.

"What is it?" Sana followed her gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"I just thought Shoto would be with you."

Hearing his name didn't help calm her heart. For months she'd made excuses as to why Shoto hadn't been around. She'd claimed that he was taking up more training for the entrance exam (which was probably true), or that he'd finally taken the time to visit Rei in the hospital. Anything she could think of to explain his absence, but honestly? She had no idea what her best friend had been up to all these months. She wasn't even sure what she'd done in the first place to deserve his silent treatment.

"We've both been pretty busy lately," Sana forced her lips to lift upwards. She'd perfected her fake smile over the years for all of the cameras and public appearances, but Umi knew her almost too well. She was scared that if she looked closer, she would see the overwhelming sadness Sana felt in her heart reflected in her eyes.

The housekeeper didn't look entirely convinced, but she didn't press the subject, either.

Admitting out loud that they'd had a falling out made it real. And Sana wasn't ready to face that reality yet, so she happily fed into the fantasy.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

The next morning was uneventful. No sign of flashing cameras or pesky reporters camped outside the gates. No more stampedes in the hallway. The most excitement 1-A faced was Midnight surprising them with a pop quiz.

Lunch was peaceful. Sana sat at her usual table with Mina and the boys. She spotted Shinso lounging at the same table as yesterday and waved. His hooded eyes widened a fraction before hesitantly returning the gesture.

"Oh?" Mina leaned in close, her lips curled deviously. "And just who were you waving to?"

"A friend."

Mina gasped dramatically. "Do I know this friend?" Her bright eyes narrowed in suspicion. She leaned in close, though the volume of her voice didn't change. If she was trying to be sneaky about it, she was failing miserably. The whole table's attention was now focused on the them. "More importantly, is this mystery friend a guy?" Sana opened her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by Mina clasping her hands together in prayer. "And if he is, PLEASE tell me he's hot!" The solar girl laughed, shaking her head. She wasn't blind. Shinso was very handsome, but there was a specific type that she was attracted to.

Normal guys just didn't cut it. She had her first love to thank for that.

"Am I not allowed to have hot guy friends?" Sana gestured across the table to two very smug-looking guys, one flushed redhead, and a snarling gremlin. She waved her hand dismissively towards the ash blonde. "And whatever you call that."

Kaminari and Sero erupted into cackles.

"THE HELL-" Kirishima grabbed his shoulders and pushed Bakugou back down in his seat. Sana sent him a wink, which earned her a demonic growl.

"Not ones that I don't know about!" Mina protested.

Sana took a long sip of her orange juice. She remembered Mina fangirling over Shoto on their first day. If she ever found out that they were childhood friends... well, she could only imagine the pinkette's reaction, but she had a feeling it would involve a lot of squealing and a few not-so-playful punches in the arm.

She could only smile and shrug.

¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*･ﾟ¸☾⋆*

After lunch, Mr. Aizawa stood at the front of the class wearing his hero suit, his hair still messy from the catnap he'd most likely taken during the break. "Today's training will be a little different. You'll have three instructors; me, All Might, and another faculty member will be keeping tabs on you." All around the room students gasped.

"Sir!" Iida held his hand up, like he was waiting to be called on. "What kind of training is this?"

"Rescue." His response caused the excitement level to rise even more. "You'll be dealing with natural disasters, shipwrecks, stuff like that."

A rescue mission? Sana leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. There were all types of heroes out there. There were those that specialized in battle, while others were better suited for search and rescues. It all comes down to how you can help the most in a crisis. If a villain appears in a public space, putting civilians lives at risk, where are you going to be most useful; in the evacuation or the takedown?

This training exercise Aizawa set up for them will test them in a way they couldn't prepare for. Fighting is easy, but protecting someone? Making split second decisions in a life-or-death situation that could cost not only your life, but countless others? How do you prepare for that?

Aizawa told the class to pipe down before continuing. "What you wear in this exercise is up to you. I know you're excited about costumes, but keep in mind that you haven't gotten used to them yet, and they might limit your abilities." The special compartments holding their suits slid out of the wall. "This special training is at an off‐campus facility, so we'll be taking a bus to get there. That's all. Start getting ready."

They all quickly changed into their costumes before congregating outside the school gate. Everyone was in full costume except for Midoriya. Bakugou had done a real number on his adorable green suit during their last heroics class, so the boy was forced to walk around in his gym uniform until the repairs were finished.

They reluctantly lined up outside the bus per the new Class President's instructions. Sana felt a cruel twinge of satisfaction as she boarded the bus and noticed the open layout. Nice try, Iida. She nabbed a spot in the middle next to Kirishima, who was practically vibrating in his seat. Everyone was feeling the excitement. The amount of energy pouring off of them was almost tangible.

"If we're pointing out the obvious, then there's something I wanna say..." Tsuyu caught their attention. She turned to the resident broccoli boy. "About you, actually."

The greenette blushed. "About me? What is it, Asui?"

"I told you to call me 'Tsu.'" The frog-like girl reminded him, flustering the poor thing even more.

"Oh, y-yeah. Right."

The green-haired girl help her finger to her lip in contemplation. "That power of yours. Isn't it a lot like All Might's?" The sound that came out of Midoriya's mouth nearly made Sana snort unattractively. The boy was a red, sweaty mess.

Yeah, I guess... if you ignore the fact that his limbs turn to spaghetti every time he uses it.

Kirishima also pointed out the big difference between their quirks before sighing. "Still, I bet it's cool to have a simple augmenting‐type of Quirk. You can do lots of flashy stuff with it." He held out an arm, activating his quirk. "My hardening's super strong and can destroy bad guys in a fight, but it doesn't look all that impressive."

Sana nudged his knee with her's. "Aren't you being a little hard on yourself?"

"Oh, no way," Midoriya shook his head in denial. "I think it's really awesome looking," he insisted. "You're definitely pro material with a Quirk like that." Thank you, Midoriya, for being so kind. Sana shot him a grateful smile.

"You really think so?" The redhead brightened, but he still looked a little down. "Seems like it'd be easier to be a popular hero if I had something flashier."

"My navel laser's got the perfect combination of panache and strength." Aoyama proudly pointed out, but Mina was quick to pop his bubble.

"But it's way lame if it gives you a stomachache, sweetie." The French boy deflated at that.

"Well, if any of our classmates have pro Quirks," Kirishima steered the conversation back on track."It's gotta be Todoroki, Sakano, and Bakugou."

Sana was genuinely surprised to hear her name mentioned. Not that she didn't believe in herself and her abilities, but to have someone else acknowledge her strength was so rewarding. She'd been compared to Shoto her entire life, but this time was different. Finally, someone was seeing her as an individual, as someone capable of standing on their own, and not in someone else's shadow. Shoto and Bakugou had two of the strongest quirks she'd ever seen, and here was someone who viewed her on the same level as them. It just solidified her belief that she was meant to be here.

"Sure," Tsuyu admitted. "But Bakugou's always angry, so he'll never be that popular."

"What did you say? I'll kick your ass!" Bakugou jumped up from his seat, gripping the handrail tightly as if imagining their necks in its place.

Tsu didn't bat an eye. "See?"

She'd tried to hold it in, but she couldn't keep it in any longer. Sana clutched her sides, snickering uncontrollably. Kaminari joined in the teasing next, casually leaning back in the seat across from her and Kiri. "Y'know, we basically just met you. So it's kinda telling that we all know your personality is flaming crap mixed with garbage." The amusement in his eyes was unmistakable.

"You're gonna regret the day you applied to this school, loser!" Bakugou was perched on the rail now, ready to launch himself at the electric blonde.

Midoriya watched the one-sided argument unfold with a look like he was going to pass out or be carsick, neither of which Sana hoped to witness. They broke off into smaller conversations amongst themselves for the remainder of the short drive.

"We're here." Aizawa announced, standing at the front of the bus. "Stop messing around."

"Yes, sir."

The class stepped off the bus, only to be welcomed by a familiar face... well, mask. "Hello, everyone," The Pro Hero Thirteen greeted them with a wave. "I've been waiting for you! I can't wait to show you what's inside!" The young heroes followed their instructors into the building. From the outside, it didn't look like much. But inside...

"Holy crap!" Kirishima exclaimed.

The interior of the building was huge. A grand staircase led down to the main floor, where areas were sectioned off into mini environments. "A shipwreck, a landslide, a fire, a windstorm, etc..." U.A really went Plus Ultra with their budget, huh? "I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters. I call it the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, but you can call it USJ!"

Aizawa and Thirteen whispered to each other, the rescue hero holding up three fingers. Their homeroom teacher looked annoyed as he turned back to them. Thirteen, on the other hand, was as cheerful as ever.

"Excellent! Before we begin, let me just say one thing. Well, maybe two things... possibly three, four, or five."

The list keeps growing! 1-A sweatdropped.

"Listen carefully. I'm sure you're aware that I have a powerful Quirk called Black Hole. I can use it to suck up anything and turn it into dust, but my Quirk could also very easily be used to kill."

Shocked gasps filled the silence.

"Some of you also have powers that can be dangerous. In our superhuman society, all Quirks are certified and stringently regulated, so we often overlook how unsafe they can actually be. Please don't forget that if you lose focus or make the wrong move, your powers can be deadly. Even if you're trying to do something virtuous like rescue someone."

With great power comes great responsibility. Isn't that what the first heroes used to say?

"Thanks to Aizawa's fitness tests, you have a solid idea of your Quirk's potential. And because of All Might's combat training, you likely experienced how dangerous your powers can be when used against other people. Carry those lessons over to this class. Today, you're going to learn how to use your Quirks to save people's lives. You won't be using your powers to attack enemies or each other, only to help. After all, that's what being a hero is all about. Ensuring the safety of others. That's all I have to say. Thank you so much for listening."

The class clapped and cheered, amazed by the Pro's speech. Mr. Aizawa, of course, already looked like he wanted to go home.

"Right. Now that that's over..." All at once, the group moved their attention to the plaza, where the fountain was acting strange. Suddenly, a dark, misty cloud appeared, a pale hand emerging from the darkness. Mr. Aizawa stepped forward, instantly on alert.

"Stay together and don't move!" Thirteen warned.

The class watched in confusion and awe as their homeroom teacher took a defensive stance, his capture weapon floating around him. His stance was defensive, but strong, as more people stepped through the purple mist.

"Thirteen," Aizawa commanded over his shoulder, his focus locked onto the growing amount of strangers downstairs. "Protect the students!"

Out of the mist appeared a hulking shape. Purple-black skin was stretched tight across bulging muscles. The being's eyes were wide and empty, it's brain exposed. It's beak opened in a reverberating roar. What the hell is that thing? Sana's hands clenched at her side, a slight tremble in her fingers. It obviously wasn't human... not anymore, at least. The students looked to their teachers for guidance on what to do, their voices strained.

"Wait, has the training started already?" Ochaco's voice was apprehensive.

"I thought we were rescuing people?" Kirishima asked.

Sana wasn't so sure herself what was going on, but her gut told her it wasn't anything good. It was clear that as unconventional as his teaching style is, Aizawa wasn't behind this. He looked too tense, too taken aback by their arrival. In that moment, he wasn't 1-A's Aizawa, but the Pro Hero Eraserhead.

So if it's not part of the training, then what-

Midoriya went to move closer, but was instantly scolded. "Stay back!" The raven-haired man threw his arm out. "This is real. Those are villains." Sana inhaled sharply, her gaze jumping between her classmates, her teachers, and the villains below.

It seems we're the ones in need of rescuing.

[kaiowut99]

oh my god it's good to get to see these in-context finally

Vector's quality long-game plan, you kinda see it as a bit too good to be true that this new "transfer student" cozying up to Yuma is natural but you roll with it, then notice those quick nuanced looks the past 10-15 episodes as a little detail gets mentioned about the Barians and you start to see him look a little fishy, then "Vector" kidnaps him and has Yuma think he's dead to get him to lose his shit by also making this big reveal

And he set Yuma up with Limited Barian Force to use his fitting Vain - Sneer of Betrayal Trap on his "V" Monsters--his Hope Ray "V"

Seeing Yuma distraught at what he thought he knew crumbling, the trust he put into "Rei" all that time (and sticking up for him against Gilag ofc) working against him and even causing a slight rift between him and Astral... also, the BGM playing as this all goes down... He's being an absolute troll about it all, right down to using his Shingetsu voice to really rub salt into the wound, and yeah, it's good stuff

I did have some inkling at the twist eventually coming being in the fandom as long as I have and Vector being such a meme (but being so because he's seen as a great villain), but did my best to avoid/scroll past spoilers going into watching ZeXal for the first time the past while, and even then it was done pretty well to still make the twist land nicely.

[also, checked the dub on a whim, and it's nice the dialogue is mostly intact, but oof dub!Yuma really could not do distraught... though it was interesting that Liscio Jr. sounds like he played R[ei/ay]? Apparently Vector too, but they put a voice filter on him so even if he's supposed to be mockingly using Ray's voice it doesn't hit the same as JP!Vector mockingly going "I lured you here and you thought it was all for the beeest to involve people that didn't need to be"

Also, Durbe I think at some point in Vector's reveal originally says he's pulling "a clever move," his tone implying he's a bit annoyed at the lengths Vector's going here and that there's some history there, but that line's removed in the dub

also how dare they cut the close-up shot that got the entire episode's art budget spent on it]

bonus: me on five hours of sleep:

[secondgenerationnerd]

As it is our bi-king’s birthday (June 15th), I thought we could use some Colin-centered love 💙💜🩷

————-

Today, Colin James Wilkes is 17 years old. One more year before he ages out of the orphanage. Almost five years since he joined Omega squad. Almost 2 years since he started dating Milagro, who’s spent all day spoiling him.

Going to their favorite thrift stores, hitting the taco truck from their first date, and so much talking. He could listen to her talk for hours if he’s honest. She had been checking her phone every so often, before suddenly declaring they should head back to the tower. Now, their bags in one hand and her grip on the other, he can’t help but laugh as she pulls him to the living area.

"Diosa, slow down! We're not in any kind of rush."

"Aye, I know, mi rey, but I'm tired after being out all day." Her words are right but everything else is wrong. He slows down until she's forced to stop. "I’m just ready to set our stuff down and get some food.”

"Uh-huh...I don't suppose you're trying to get me back for a certain surprise party?" Colin asks, fighting a laugh as her head whips around. "I might not be a Bat, but I can put two and two together….plus I saw the party supplies last night."

Milagro huffs, "Promise to act surprised?"

"...Is Ma in there?"

"Yes."

He covers his heart, nodding solemly, "It will be Oscar worthy."

When they walk into the living area, Colin does act surprised when people jump out. Just Omega and their families, but still a sizeable crowd. The Supers give Colin a look, but don't say anything. The first person over to him is Martha Kent. He has to bend over to hug her properly, but she’s still as strong as ever. The kind of hug that makes him feel like that scrawny 12 year old again, warm and safe.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart. Now, I insisted on making your cake." Ma gestures to the creation on the counter. His throat tightens as he reconginzes the colors of the three layers. "I did check with Jonny to make sure I had the right flag.”

"You didn't have--"

"Colin, baby, you know I do what I damn well please.” She pats his cheek, not leaving any room for him to argue. At this point, he’s learned arguing with most of the women in his life if the dumb choice.

All his favorite food are spread out on the counter—Ma’s chili, Bianca’s barbacoa and tamales, Dick’s gushvada, the twins’ Tteokbokki, and so much more. The best playlist, clearly made by Lian and Roy with care, plays just under the roar of conversation. It takes him a minute to realize how many are talking about….him. Their favorite memories of him, funny moments they’ve had in the last few years.

Then there’s the affectionate touches from the adults. Roy and Jason ruffling his long red hair. Alberto clapping a hand on his shoulder as they laugh together. Ma patting his cheek again as she makes sure he’s eaten enough. Linda, Lois, and Bianca each hugging him so tight he can’t breathe. Dick and Wally both poking his side, the sure fire way to make him laugh. Clark fixing his shirt collar as he walks by.

All things he would have flinched at years ago.

Soon, bellies full and spirits high, the conversation starts to lull. Naturally his friends decide to cause chaos.

"Speech!" Jai shouts, golden eyes twinkling with mischief. Nudging Jon and Damian, Jai grins at his best friend, “Let’s hear it for the Bi-King!”

"Yeah! C'mon, birthday boy! Let’s get a speech."

"Speech, Wilkes! You’re always running your mouth anyway! Put it to use this time!”

He’s going to kill them. Slowly. And laugh while he does it.

Knowing there’s no way out, Colin looks at the crowded room. All these people are here for him. Celebrating him, just for being born. Not like at the orphanage where he’d get a cupcake with the other kids born in June. This is all for him.

His throat tightens uncomfortably. Taking a second to clear it, he finally addresses them. “Um….I have no idea what to say or-or where to begin…I’m not the only orphan in this room. Not the only one who doesn’t know where they come from. Not the only one who grew up in shitty homes, with adults who use their fists before their words. Being told over and over God has this plan for me. That I needed to keep my faith and all would be well. He would protect me.”

He looks down at his hands, the rings Milagro and Mar’i found for him gleaming with his reflection, “I worked so hard to keep my faith. Even when Scarecrow and Bane had me. Even when I wanted to die because…at least the pain would stop. For a long time I couldn’t understand why God… let it happen. Gave me these abilities that took away any hope of a family finally adopting me. Finding my forever home.”

Looking up, he immediately finds his teammates, “In a weird way, I should thank Him. I still think He expects way too fucking much out of children, but because of Him I’m on this team. Because I have three brothers, who I’m fully going to murder in the next ten minutes. I have three sisters, who make me laugh and scream and cry. Who know what I like and hate. Who know when I’m just being quiet and when I’m struggling. Who annoy the shit out of me….because they love me.”

He reaches to the side, knowing he doesn’t need to look, but he does. Milagro’s warm hand slides into his, dark eyes meeting his own, brilliant smile making his heart skip. “I got to meet the most incredible girl in the universe. One who challenges me every day. Who understands and shares my struggles with the Almighty. Who is incredibly out of my league and could have anyone she wanted….and she chooses me.”

His eyes flick to his friends’ parents, voice threatening to crack, “I finally have adults in my life who chose to love me. Not because of a job obligation or money. I might never know my biological parents, but I know what it feels like to be loved. To have someone take care of me during a flare up. To be taught how to shave and drive and-and how to be a good man.”

A few tears finally escape his eyes, voice breaking, “Thank you for being my family. Thank you for choosing to love me. Thank you for teaching me I deserve that love.”

Milagro’s arms are first around him. Then their teammates—his brothers and sisters—join in, making them lose balance and tumble to the ground. All of them calling him an asshole and a sap, tears in their eyes. There’s laughing. So much laughing. Not at him, but with him.

Always with him.

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Soul Bound

Chapter 12- Take me to the finish line

Also posted on AO3 and Wattpad!

Feet don't fail me now

Take me to the finish line

Oh, my heart, it breaks every step that I take

But I'm hoping at the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine

Born To Die- Lana Del Rey

“I…”

BAM!

Sam and Aron let out a startled gasp, their heads shooting to look at the door. Her ears rang from the loud gunshot, her blood running cold.

Sam rushed out immediately and she followed, completely ignoring the risks James had warned her about; truly she didn’t care. As soon as she was out of the safety of her room, an intense and painful draining sensation took over, one that seemed to pull at her bones.

She looked around to see multiple devils, who were currently fighting the incubi, with the exception of one. Aron saw Erik on the bottom step of the staircase, groaning in pain as he held his abdomen. She immediately ran down despite the pain in her body, kneeling by him.

“Matthew, get her in her room!” James called out to the younger incubus.

Aron ignored Matthew as he walked over and started pulling at her arm. “Aron, it isn’t safe for you out here.”

She was more focused on Erik, who was losing a lot of blood and fast. The bullet was hell borne, draining him of energy faster than he could heal the injury. “Princess,” he said, breathlessly. “You need to go to your room and be safe, your energy-”

“Shut up, Erik. I’m going to heal you,” she told him firmly before placing her hands over his abdomen. Immediately she began to force her energy into his body. He was too out of it to stop her, and Aron could only hope she’d stay awake long enough to help. Between the drain from the spell and the energy she was giving him, that wasn’t likely.

“Aron, please-” Matthew started before she interrupted him.

“Matthew, I said no! Go help the others, I’ll be fine,” she told him. “Go.”

He frowned but when another gunshot went off, he ran back into the fight. She looked down at Erik, already feeling dizzy. His wounds weren’t even scabbing over yet, hell borne bullets always having been much more difficult to heal than a typical gun shot. Aron pushed away the thoughts of all of the patients she’d lost because of them; she wouldn’t let Erik die, even as every nerve in her trembling body cried out from the extreme draining.

She could see the others fighting, and Malix was surprisingly nowhere to be found. She felt her eyes grow heavy, her energy rapidly decreasing. She knew if she didn’t get out of there soon, she would pass out. But Erik was her priority at the moment.

Aron stood up and started helping him get on his feet. He groaned in pain but didn’t stop her, straining as he struggled to get up. He was trembling, and so was Aron. They were both out of energy, but he’d stopped bleeding at least.

“We gotta go to my room,” she told him, putting his arm around her shoulder as she helped him up to her room and attempted to block out the noise of the demon’s and devil’s fighting in the lobby. 

Erik grunted with pain as she helped him up the stairs, one of his hands held tightly over his stomach. Each step was a strain for the both of them, but Aron wouldn’t let herself succumb to the exhaustion.

She reached out, but her hand didn’t grab the doorknob. She realized how shallow her breathing had become, but she’d been ignoring it until now. She needed to ignore it. She needed to get him healed. She needed…

Aron sat in the woods with her cousin Mason, the smell of weed in the air. He had dark hair and brown eyes, and currently had a slight summer tan.

He was a few years older than her. He was one of her best friends, having been raised as siblings, even as she moved from family to family and didn’t always get to see him. There were multiple occasions where she’d lived with him, so he was a major part of most of her childhood memories.

She remembered the time she was staying the weekend with him. She couldn’t have been any older than five at the time. He had made her sit in his broken gaming chair and lifted it up with her in it. He tilted it forward, making her shriek. He’d laugh at her and gently dump her onto a pile of pillows.

Or the first time he actually let her play his Xbox with him instead of just watching. They played Mortal Kombat, which she lost miserably. But still, she had a happy grin that she was getting to do the same things as who she saw as a big brother.

She smiled softly at the memories. They were currently smoking a joint and discussing a relationship of his, one that had been off and on since he was fourteen. It was complicated and messy, but they were so in love that neither of them had the strength to end it.

“Do you believe in love?” Aron heard Mason ask. 

As she handed him the joint they were sharing, she shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. I don’t think things would be the way they were if love wasn’t involved,” she said. 

“Do you think the arguing and messiness between y’all is worth her love?” she asked him.

He hummed, taking a long puff before speaking. “I dunno. I always thought love should be peaceful and shit, but I keep getting hurt because of it.”

She listened closely. “Are you sure it’s love?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “There's nothing else it could be.”

She nodded. “I think that…even if you love someone, they could be awful for you or you could be awful for them. It’s not as simple as both of you loving each other.”

“If love is making your life miserable, maybe it isn’t worth it.”

Isn’t worth it.

Isn’t worth it.

Isn’t worth it.

Is it worth it?

[twilightmalachite]

Altered - Angels and Devils 9

Author: Akira

Characters: Eichi, Tsumugi, Rei

Translator: Mika Enstars

EN Proofer: PitXRoxas

"If you speak of monsters, they come to you. Poor boy, didn’t Papa and Mama teach you this~? ♪"

Season: Spring

Location: In Front of Yumenosaki Main Gate

⚠️ This is an import from a unproofed Twitter Livetweet!

The following morning, in front of Yumenosaki Academy’s front gates…

Eichi: (Smooth sailing so far…)

(…At least, I wish it was.)

(The plans for my eventual victory have been made. I have a full picture and roadmap. I’ve tilled the soil, and sowed the seeds for it.)

(But, there’s been no results so far.)

(All those I’ve recruited for fine to become my private army and to have a leading role for this revolutionary story, save for Tsumugi, are too rebellious—or too unmotivated.)

(The ultimate weapons against the Five Eccentrics, Hiyori-kun and Nagisa-kun, are just doing what they please as of now.)

(While everyone else, Tsumugi aside, aren’t even counted as a force to begin with... They’re just quantity over quality “numbers”, collected for the same of violence through numbers.)

(Student votes determine the outcome through the DreamFes system. Increasing the number of “allies” in that way is the best solution to that. They provide nothing more than that.)

(If they can’t provide any use, then my plan will fall apart.)

(It’s troublesome. Allies that don’t behave the way I want them to...are more troublesome than the enemy I’m supposed to eventually defeat, the evil Five Eccentrics.)

(I had no idea that the reality would play out so poorly…)

… *cough, cough*

(Ah, my lungs hurt.)

(I didn’t speak at all while at the hospital, but lately I’ve been overworking my throat and such. These are simply just growing pains from that.)

(Still, pain is still pain… I feel like my life’s going to end like in those romantic poems of old, coughing wretchedly.)

(No, I refuse to lose to a life of that kind.)

(As the heir to the Tenshouins, I was born so I could win.)

(Fufu, I can’t believe I’m using my family household as a source of support, when it’s only been a source of disgust for me—how contradictory.)

…Hm?

(What’s that? There’s commotion over by the entrance…)

Location: Yumenosaki Academy Grounds

Tsumugi: Hey~! That’s dangerous~! Stop fooling around!

Eichi: Tsumugi, what’s all the fuss here?

Tsumugi: Ah, Eichi-kun! Good morning~! ♪

I’m so glad to see you going to school today~! I’ve been worried about you! Your complexion hasn’t been looking well lately.

Eichi:Fufu, thank you for the concern, but there’s something more important—

Tsumugi: Oh, right! There’s big trouble!

Look over there. Do you see that person up on the roof?

Eichi: Umm… What is it? The sun’s too bright for me to see clearly.

Ah, ouch… Looking up too long makes my shoulders stiff and painful…

Tsumugi: Ah, I’ll take a picture to show you instead, then. Adjust the light, and zoom iiiiin~…♪

Alright, here you go. ♪

Eichi: How thoughtful. As always.

…Hmm, let’s see.

What is this? Are there a bunch of students gathered on the roof, too?

I see scenes like this on news shows sometimes, could there be something bad happening?

Tsumugi: I don’t think it’s something bad, at least… Everyone standing up on the rooftops all have cheerful expressions.

Eichi: So more like a festive fuss, if anything. And at the center of it all, surprising or not, is one of the Five Eccentrics, it seems?

Tsumugi: That’d be Sakuma Rei. He’s one year our senior.

Eichi: What a boisterous student council president we have, huh? …I’m sure Keito’s having a hard time because of it.

Tsumugi: Huh? Didn’t Rei-kun already quit being the student council president? He himself mentioned something like that last time I talked to him…

Eichi: I wonder. As of right now, he is leaving “that side” of things to the others.

I don’t think he’s so delusional or arrogant as to think he can do everything on his own.

No, that’s not right. The arrogance and self-righteousness characteristic to the Five Eccentrics is their greatest weakness.

Rei: Don’t go talkin’ bad about others so gleefully, little kid.

Eichi: (…!?)

(Huh? Was that Sakuma Rei just now? His voice sounded strangely close…)

(Even though he’s way up there—)

Rei: If you speak of monsters, they come to you. Poor boy, didn’t Papa and Mama teach you this~? ♪

Eichi: (…!? Sakuma Rei, what are you thinking? He’s jumping down over towards us—)

(A-At this rate, he’s going to slam into me!?)

Tsumugi: …!? Eichi-kun, watch out!

Eichi: Hyyaahhh!?

(N-No way, could he have seen right through me?—)

(And so now he’s here to defeat me at any cost, even going as far to kill me even if it means killing himself!? Meaning he acknowledges me as a formidable opponent who can’t be killed otherwise—)

Rei: Ahahahahahahaha! ☆

That “hyaah” you let out there, you’re so cute! Ah, I can’t help but laugh—I mean, sorry I surprised ya!

My bad~. I’ve been getting more and more bored these days, I can’t relax unless I pull off some crazy gag like that.

Eichi: …? …?

(Wha? Is Sakuma Rei floating? He’s jumping in mid-air! Is this witchcraft!?)

Tsumugi: Oh, this is…

Rei-ku~n? Why are you bungee jumping off the school?

Rei: What, it’s not like it’s banned or anything~? I am the school rules! Ahahahahahaha! ☆

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[i-cant-stop-fandoming-help]

Gap

Part 3 to Guilt

Note; Yes, this is shorter than the last two, but in my defense, I’m tired and want to make at least a fourth part.

I like Tsurugi. he’s a well-written character. but he’s also a bastard, so I gotta write him as a big bastard. Also, these are written from a perspective of Rei.

-

Another day, another funeral, another fight. It’s what happened, in a world recovering from a great tragedy. It repeated, and repeated, and repeated, creating an almost rhythmic pattern of yawns, sobs, and gunshots.

But, so rarely was it someone Rei was close to. In fact, it had never once been someone Rei had loved romantically before- but now, it had happened, and, god, did it hurt.

When going back to work five days after the funeral- five days she had called in sick- everything was different. There was hatred among people who were once friends, with Keisuke and Ryutaro being the prime examples of it.

Everything had gotten worse- Rei and Tsurugi fought constantly- actually hitting each other sometimes. There would be times where Tsurugi would struggle out of his wheelchair just to smack Rei for blaming him for Teruya’s death.

There was a gap in the workplace- one Teruya had left behind when he passed on. Everyone had realized that by now. 

Keisuke tried filling it, he tried to stop them from hurting each other or throwing insults at each other, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to. 

Ryutaro tried filling it, thinking that because he and Kiyoka behaved similarly, whilst Keisuke and Satsuki did not, that he could make them feel like his sister was still there, still alive, and they would calm down before fighting.

Nobody else dared try. Midori was too sickly to do much, Minako was always gossipping about things and ignoring people who ‘got in her way’. Dr Ando would feel as though he was forcing them to forget Teruya, so he refused, even though he may have been capable.

So everyone watched as the two of them continued to fight, with Tsurugi’s temper becoming harder to control, and Rei’s grief more visible to all.

Rei knew they could all see it, see her depression, see her reverting to her old self- The self that picked on Tsurugi for a fight, called him psycho cop, egged him on until he was prepared to hurt her.

She couldn’t break out of it, she had no reason to, anymore. 

When Teruya first began to show affection towards her, it changed something in Rei, making her feel warm inside for the first time in years. 

She had been able to tell him of her past, to tell him of her fears of abandonment… And he understood. He promised he’d never leave her alone for too long, and she believed it. She let herself be weak around him, let him hold her in the times she was absolutely miserable.

Rei wanted to call him a liar so badly, to sit near his grave and sob and yell at him for lying to her. She wanted to hug his grave, and punch it at the same time, to pretend she was with Teruya himself. 

But everyone had been there- everyone from the foundation, and those who survived the second killing game. Even Maeda, who thought he had gone unnoticed, was there.

Teruya was the cement of the foundation, holding the place together- and it all went to shambles when he was taken away. He was the support of Rei and Tsurugi, holding the scale so it appeared like they were worth the same. When he died, Tsurugi’s worth shot up into the sky whilst Rei’s got buried.

But there were still some people who sided with Rei- a majority seemed to be on Tsurugi’s side, but… People like Dr Ando, Ryutaro, and Minako still sided with her. Keisuke was on Tsurugi’s side, and Midori… didn’t seem to have a side.

Rei wanted to stop this fight in the workplace so badly, she knew Teruya would be disappointed in her for letting it carry on… But she just couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard she tried.

[wrestlingisfake]

Triplemania XXXI Tijuana preview

El Hijo del Vikingo vs. Kenny Omega - This is for Vikingo's AAA mega championship. Omega was the previous champion for over two years, and he was scheduled to defend against Vikingo in December 2021, but Omega was sidelined with injuries and Vikingo instead won the vacant title in a five-way match. Omega and Vikingo finally squared off in AEW on a March 2023 show; Omega won, but the title wasn't at stake. So now they're meeting again, and the gold is finally on the line.

It's taken so long for AAA to get this match that in the meantime Omega has had a falling out with his mentor Don Callis. Callis is now weaseling his way into every other feud Omega has going on these days, and a few days ago it was revealed that he's cornering Vikingo and giving him tips on how to beat Omega. This is probably meant to set up interference, and possibly a fuck finish so Vikingo can retain without Omega losing clean. That would be a disappointment, since the whole point of doing Omega vs. Vikingo is to focus on straight up flippy wrestling goodness, without all the bullshit.

My bet is that Vikingo will win and keep the title, and hopefully not permanently align with Callis. But I can't rule out the possibility that AAA will put the belt back on Omega for another two years. I also can't rule out that Vikingo could join the Don Callis Family--sooner or later somebody has to, and it might as well be him.

LA Park & Rush vs. Psycho Clown & Sam Adonis - This is the final match in the Guerra de Rivalidades tournament. Each team in the field consisted of wrestlers who hate each other, and in each round the losing team advances. So whichever team loses this match will qualify for the grand "prize," which is to face each other in a mask vs. hair match on August 12.

The big draw for this tournament is the possibility that we could get a huge Park vs. Rush match where either Park loses his mask or Rush shaves his impressive mane. It's something of a holy grail for Mexican matchmakers, because neither of these guys likes doing jobs and you have to pay damn good money for a big star to lose his mask or hair. Rush has already teased walking out on this match, which goes to show how tricky it'll be to pull this off.

Of course, the simplest thing to do here is have Rush and Park win so that you set up Psycho vs. Adonis. There's no way Psycho is losing his mask anytime soon, but nobody gives a fuck about Sam Adonis or his hair, so that match books itself. The interesting wrinkle, though, is that Park has hyped up this match by saying he'll try to lose on purpose to make Park vs. Rush happen. So it'll be challenging to book a Park-Rush victory that makes any sense, but knowing AAA they'll half-ass their way to it and call it good.

Penta El Zero Miedo vs. QT Marshall - This is billed as an ambulance match, which means the goal is to force your opponent into the back of an ambulance and shut the door. The mystique of an ambulance match is that the loser is in the ambulance because he requires medical attention after taking an unusually violent match. But in reality most ambulance matches come down to "I do a cheap shot that stuns you for only 15 seconds, which is long enough to shut the door."

They spent weeks setting up a mystery man taunting Penta and then revealed it to be Marshall, which suggests they wanted to bring in an AEW guy and that was the best they could do. QT's only claim to fame in AEW is heading up two different shitty heel factions, and literally any other member of either of those factions would be more impressive against Penta. This should be a cake walk for Penta except QT would naturally have tons of goons running in for him. I still think he'll win.

Negro Casas & Argenis & Chessman & Daga vs Nicho el Millionario & Damian 666 Rey Horus & Xtreme Tiger - This is billed as a Mexico City vs. TIjuana match, with Negro's team representing CDMX and Nicho's team representing Tijuana. According to TheCubsFan, where I get all my lucha information, this is all part of an ongoing singles feud between Nicho (52 years old) and Negro (63!). I can always count on Mexico to make me feel less bad about the US running grampa fights. The show is literally named after Tijuana so I'm thinking Team Tijuana wins.

Pagano & Bestia 666 & Mecha Wolf vs Vampiro & Aramis & Jack Evans - I could've sworn Vampiro was forced into retirement ages ago, but here he is. As far as I remember, this will be the first time I've seen him wrestle since WCW, but for all I know he was in a Copa Triplemania match a couple of years back that I clean forgot about. Anyway, I guess the story is Pagano was attacked months ago and recently returned accusing Vampiro of being responsible. Vamp doesn't like Pagano hanging around with Bestia and Mecha, the NWA world tag team champions. AEW fans may remember Jack Evans from working on Dark a few years ago. Aramis had a few matches in MLW but that's all I've got on him. I'm thinking Vamp's team wins.

Lady Shani & Sexy Star & Dalys vs Kamille & Natalia Markova & Viva Van - This seems to just be a random women's trios match. It's being billed as "Mexico vs. the best of the world." Kamille is the NWA women's world champion, but I wouldn't count on this match setting up a new challenger or anything. I guess her team will win.

Copa Triplemania - This is a gauntlet battle royale, so two participants start and each additional participant enters at timed intervals. Eliminations can occur at any time in the match, via pinfall, submission, or exiting the ring over the top rope to the floor. The last participant left in the match wins the Triplemania Cup. It's basically a clusterfuck to get all the undercard guys on the show.

Announced so far for the match are: Willie Mack, Mr. Iguana, Jack Cartwheel, La Hiedra, Flammer, Myzteziz, Puma King, Nino Hamburguesa, Dinamico, Gringo Loco, Laredo Kid, and Taurus. I expect surprise entrants, and I have no idea if there's any fixed limit to how many people can join the match. It feels like every time I watch one of these the finish comes down to the heel ref trying to pull shenanigans until a babyface ref saves they day. I don't think it matters who wins, but Mr. Iguana is my guy.

[teabiscs]

Ugh Someone give me a Kai Rei where:

:readmore:

Everyone knows they like each other. It’s so obvious. But they’re both oblivious idiots. Who think they’re so smooth and they have things under wraps and no one knows they have a thing for the other.

And the Bladebreakers, White Tigers and Borg are all SO tired of the stares with live in their eyes. And the blushing and hiding away. And the awkwardness between the two.

(And everyone would just have a different approach at getting them to admit their feeling and pursue their crush.

Borg, minus Sergei, are more direct at pushing Kai, while Sergei is gentler and logical.

Mao crusades the rest of the team at getting Rei to open up about wanting things. That’s it’s okay to want things. And have feelings and crushes. [and Rei being confused because mao we broke up?]

Bladebreakers are a mix of both. Max is the ship pioneer. Always pull the two together and making sure they’re stuck together, even if they’re awkward and nervous with each other. Hiromi playing interference with Takao because he can be dense about their feelings and is like /I don’t get it. They both like each other. Why can’t they just date?/

And they have one BIG group chat for it. With some dumb group name. And it’s all of them updating everyone on what’s going on.

/Rei was watching Kai the entire practice today, like he couldn’t even focus/

/Rei’s hair accidentally touched Kai today, and he looked like he was going through five stages of grief that the touch was so short/

/went to the store today and Kai just stared at this tiger plush for five minutes and then he bought it. It looks just like Drigger. Coincidence? I think not/

/since when does Rei wear purple… like a certain someone we know does?/

/ever since kai said he likes long hair, Rei’s been wearing his hair down/

And eventually they’re all at a lose because why are they both so stupid!!! So dense!!

But a moment appears before them! The majestics are hosting a party. And maybe. Everyone pushes alcohol on the two. Rei being a clingy drunk and Kai being an oversharing one. And anywho one thing leads to another and the kiss. And everyone cheers. And that someone how sobers the two up just a tad.

And then, an awkward next morning where they both apologize and avoid each other both thinking they fucked up their chance. And the three teams are like our plan backfired and now they’re worse!!!!

an intervention. Where the two are forced to sit down with everyone. And it could be either max/mao/yuriy being like you two both like each other. It’s mutual. Stop the pining and date already. We’re so tired of you two beating around the bush, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Queue the simultaneous “you like me?”

And then they lived happily ever after, the end.

[angrywrasslenerd]

World Open 2023 Week in Review - Week 4

A Block

Okay, first of all, let me get the apology out of the way, since you fucknuggets spent all week yelling at me about it on the socials. I got mixed up with all the goddamn math I had to do last week and incorrectly said that El Rey Dorado could end this tournament at 8 points, creating a four-way tie for the block. That was obviously wrong, as this week's events attest. Shit happens. Moving on.

Kazuo Saji has been wrestling for SWA since 2015, and in that time, there's a lot he's accomplished. He's won the Summer Tagfest with Connor Cipris, he's won the Escalation tournament, he's held the Aftermath Championship, he's been tag-team champion, and he became a founding member of the most popular faction in SWA. Sometimes, I see dumbasses online opine that Kazuo's done all there is to do in SWA and he should move on. But there are three things Kazuo Saji has never done in SWA: He's never held the SWA Openweight Championship, he's never won the World Open, and up until this week, he's never won a pinfall victory over Armel St. Martin in a singles match.

Saji's never been hotter than this, though, and his fortunes are starting to change. After nearly a decade of a rivalry in which Kazuo had wins in tag matches and multimans but could never quite get it done when it came to the big singles matches, Kazuo Saji beat Armel St. Martin this week. And while that match was nowhere near as long or as violent as his match against Carlos Ortega-Reyes last week, it was nonetheless absolutely spectacular. Next week, Kazuo heads to the finals against... well, we'll get to that in a bit.

Elsewhere down the card, Jake Adair finished out his World Open with a wet fart, having the lowest point total in the block, and having lost five matches in a row. Not that anyone probably expected Jake to take down El Rey Dorado, but he had probably the worst tournament anyone's had since unimportantguy walked out of the World Open with two points back in 2018. Carlos Ortega-Reyes and Raye Groves, meanwhile, finished strong at eight points, just one win behind Saji.

I spent a long time this week thinking about match of the week for this block, and I don't think anyone would blame me for giving it to the main event, but while Kazuo and Armel did put on a hell of a show, I think I actually have to give props to someone else. Paul Lambert and Raye Groves put on an absolute mat-wrestling clinic, going long in a match that had nothing but pride on the line. And given how Raye Groves has struggled over the last few years to finish strong in these tournaments, his eight point finish is a triumph in and of itself. That gets my match of the week.

A Block Point Totals FINAL:

Armel St. Martin: 8

El Rey Dorado: 6

Kazuo Saji: 10

Jake Adair: 4

Carlos Ortega-Reyes: 8

Paul Lambert: 6

Adam Nishimura: 6

Raye Groves: 8

The Nerd's Match of the Week: Raye Groves def. Paul Lambert by SUBMISSION in 21:37

B Block:

Since the beginning of the World Open this year, it was always clear that B Block was going to come down to Connor Cipris and Samael Tangaroa. Connor in particular looked incredibly strong throughout his return to the tournament, and it seemed like this would be the year that we'd finally see Connor vs. Kazuo III in the finals. But everyone's least favorite End Boss had other plans.

Samael has always been a force to be reckoned with in the World Open. People often assume the big galoot will gas out as the tournament draws on, tiring out from the exertion of moving his massive bulk around the ring so much for a month of straight singles matches. People are wrong. If anything, Samael tends to get more dangerous in the later stages of a tournament, and that's exactly what Connor Cipris fell victim to this week. Samael avoided overexerting himself, preferring to use DDTs, lariats, and chokeholds instead of showing off his power, and that gameplan paid off in spades. Connor tried his best to hobble the giant with his legwork, but that strategy is less effective if the giant you're attempting to hobble decides to just fall down on top of you. Big win for Samael, and a heartbreaking loss for Connor.

Down the card, Aaron Wolff and Kyle Sieras both were in cruise control, coasting to easy victories against Tommy Powers and Javier Valient respectively. Meanwhile, I became a Chad Jackson fan when he spiked Fabio motherFUCKING Silva on his stupid fucking head with the Action Express, putting Fabio out of action for what I hope is a good long while. Nothing really quite rose to the level of the main event though, and it easily gets my nod for match of the week.

B Block Point Totals FINAL:

Samael Tangaroa: 10

Chad Jackson: 6

Connor Cipris: 10

Fabio Silva: 6

Aaron Wolff: 6

Kyle Sieras: 8

Tommy Powers: 4

Javier Valiente: 6

The Nerd's Match of the Week: Samael Tangaroa def. Connors Cipris by PINFALL in 18:40

[inkykeiji]

all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaah yikes, sorry it’s so long???? the first part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you wont make it back; touya + reader have been fooling around for just under six months, our innocent lil good girl reader is the teeniest, tiniest bit more firm now. jealousy makes people crazy, yk how it is. touya is marginally softer for like, a second or two. | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), public sex, cheating, drug use, generally toxic relationship (possessiveness, jealousy), size difference, dubcon if u squint i guess???, the tiniest bit of cumplay

words: 11k

synopsis:

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰         

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

“Now it’ll be official,” you remember Touya whispering in your ear, the night before. “I will officially be your niichan,”

The wedding is gorgeous—elegant and classy, just like Rei herself. A wintertime wedding is so beautiful, you tell Rei as she’s busy being fawned over by several stylists, adding the finishing touches to her hair and make up. She’s absolutely stunning, a lacy ivory dress clinging delicately to her small frame, accentuating her natural curves. It glitters gracefully in the pale sunshine streaming through the large bay windows, sparkling any time she moves.

Touya doesn’t sit with his family. Their eyes sear into your flesh, although Touya keeps his stare pointedly in front of him, glaring at the alter. But you can feel their gaze on your skin, can feel their eyes travelling up your body slowly, critically, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It makes your skin crawl, both of your hands curling around Touya’s, a tangled knot of fingers resting in your lap.

You’ve never seen his other siblings before. Rei talks about them sometimes, but never when Touya’s around. You know that once every month, the three of them join Rei and your father for a family dinner, but you’ve never had the pleasure of attending.

You’d missed the first family dinner by fluke, held up late at the library studying for midterms. But every occasion after that, Touya had made absolute certain that you weren’t there. You hadn’t thought much of it the first time it happened, too enraptured and tangled up in Touya to care, grinding desperately against him in the backseat of his car as his tongue forced its way down your throat. But then it happens again, and again, and it becomes too coincidental to ignore.

“Why do we never go to those dinners with your siblings?” you’d tried to bring it up subtly the third time you guys skipped out on dinner, heart thudding in your chest and gentle voice quivering slightly.

Touya sighed, raking a hand through his hair roughly, eyes not straying from the road ahead of him. It’s complicated, he told you in a quiet voice, and you were so startled, so shocked by his sheer, unadulterated honesty, that you couldn’t find your voice, rendering you incapable of replying. Touya didn’t bother looking over at you, didn’t need to, to know that his response surprised you.

The other Todoroki’s are all strikingly beautiful—not that you expected any less. The one with pure snow-white hair and gunmetal grey eyes captures your attention the most, looking as if he’s around your age. He smirks at you when he catches your stare, giving you a small, polite nod—though you can see that tiny glint of mischief in his eye, the same glint you’ve seen in Touya’s a thousand times before. Choking on a surprised gasp, you rapidly avert your gaze, eyes snapping back to the pile of hands in your lap.

Touya notices, of course, because Touya notices everything. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand squeezes yours tightly, just a little too tight to be comforting, as his eyes dart to his siblings across the aisle, glare losing most of its heat when it meets his brother’s stare.

Tense shoulders relax, falling slowly with the measured breath he exhales as he turns back to glower at the alter.

You know other guests are staring at you—you can feel their eyes, too. You know the pair of you look more like a couple than siblings, know you should both probably put some distance between yourselves, at least try to keep some semblance of normalcy, some masquerade of a typical sibling relationship.

But Touya’s knee is bouncing, and he seems…unsure. It’s unsettling, really—Touya always seems so confident in himself—and you can almost feel the tense anxiety rolling off of him in heavy waves. So instead of scooting away from him or untangling your hands, your other palm finds a spot high on the thigh pressed tightly against yours, small fingers beginning to knead the flesh.

Sapphire eyes find yours, and he gazes down at you with an odd sense of fondness in his stare, the tiniest smile ghosting across his lips. It makes your chest swell with pride, makes you want to grab his face and crash his lips against yours, forces a tingling warmth to spread through your veins. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He barely lets you leave his side that day, keeps you glued to his body, an arm wrapped tightly around you. He’s a constant, looming, protective presence, glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for more than a second.

“Touya-nii,” you laugh a little while leaving the ceremony, watching as one of your cousins immediately averts their eyes. “That’s my cousin,”

“And I’m your brother,” he says flatly.

You suppose he has a point.

The two of you find your parents and the rest of Touya’s siblings—yours too, now, you guess—standing around a limousine, beckoning you over.

Rei begins to explain their protocol for pictures—and yes, you both have to come—but you aren’t listening. Their eyes are on you again, you can feel them, gliding up your skin, taking sharp note of the way Touya has you pressed flush against him, the way your arm is wrapped firmly around his waist, little fingers twisting in his suit jacket as your heart begins to speed up.

Touya can feel it, too, and he looks down at you in concern, his thumb caressing your shoulder, before he meets the stares of his siblings with a glare so ferocious you’re surprised it doesn’t turn them to ash on the spot.

They offer for you to ride in the limo with the rest of them, Touya cutting them off as he curtly declines their offer—no thanks, you’ll take his car instead and meet them there.

Rei tries to reason with him, but the pointed look he gives her causes her to trail off mid-sentence, holding his eyes for a moment before a sad smile settles on her face, nodding once.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Shinjuku Gyoen is nothing short of stunning in the wintertime. It had snowed this morning, around six AM, blanketing the garden in a soft layer of pure white powder, glittering delicately in the early afternoon sun.

Wide eyes drink it in as your face presses against the glass of the car window, your breath fogging it up. There’s something so whimsical and dreamy about snow, you think, about the way it softens even the sharpest of edges, the way it makes everything look prettier.

“You’re so cute,” Touya remarks, watching you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never been here during the winter,” you murmur in response, still captivated by the grounds.

Rei and your father are immediately whisked away by several photographers to do their photos alone, leaving the rest of you to litter the parking lot.

But the moment they disappear from view, Touya’s got you trapped between his body and the cold metal of his car, lips moving against the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises, things that force soft whimpers from your lips, things that make your legs feel like they’re about to give out as heat pools deep in your belly. He knows, of course, smirks and teases you even more when he feels you squeeze your thighs together helplessly, tells you you’re his perfect little slut and vows to reward you for being so good as soon as he can.

His other siblings are staring, you try to tell him in a quiet, broken whine.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, pushing his hips harder into yours, practically grinding his hard cock against your waist. “Let ‘em. I bet they’d love to watch me fuck you stupid, huh? What do you think about that, baby? You want them to watch?”

A pathetic sound hitches in your throat and you bury your burning face in his neck, a low, wicked laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

He doesn’t let up on the absolute filth spilling from his mouth until he can hear your father hollering in the distance, calling for the kids and waving the five of you over.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Pictures take too long, and Touya’s antsy by the end of it, picking anxiously at his cuticles as his knee bounces. He’s hauling you out of there the moment you’re officially released, a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. You can hear his mother calling for him, and you look back at her desperately, mirroring her worried frown.

He doesn’t even wait for the rest of them to pile into the limo and leave, immediately rooting through his pockets the moment he’s in the safety of his own car, pulling out a little baggie of white powder. He can feel your wide eyes on him, watching his every movement, but his hands are beginning to shake, and panic is starting to rip viciously at his throat, and he just needs it all to fucking stop.

“There’s no way I could endure this shit sober,” he explains as he searches for something in the powder, cursing when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. Frantic cobalt eyes dart around the car, landing on the glovebox, and he leans over you, hastily pulling a reflective object from the compartment.

It’s a mirror.

A tiny, circular mirror that he uses to tap out a line, fingers unsteady and breathing slightly laboured. The gentle sounds of his platinum credit card colliding with glass echo throughout the car.

Hovering over the small mirror, he pauses, a finger pressed to his nostril. He almost wants to tell you to look away, almost does, but he knows you’d disobey either way.

He doesn’t like doing drugs in front of you—you’re too precious, too pure and innocent and he doesn’t want you around anything that could potentially tarnish that. But he also can’t stand that look you get in your eyes, almost like you’re scared of him, on the rare occasions that you have caught him.

He nearly snaps at you when you quietly ask if you can help, if he needs someone to hold the mirror steady, currently balancing on the center console compartment, but you’ve got that goddamn look in your eyes, wide and terrified.

No, he says sternly, telling you that he doesn’t even want you near this stuff, much less touching it.

But cocaine highs don’t last long, he explains to you when you ask about the little round white pills clacking together in his pocket. You’re positive he shouldn’t be mixing drugs like that, positive that your apprehension and disapproval are written clearly across your face, based on the simmering look he shoots at you.

Don’t fucking start.

So you don’t. You swallow down your worries and sit nice and pretty and good for him, just like you’re supposed to.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

He only leaves you twice, briefly, throughout the entire night. The first is almost immediately after you enter the reception venue.

Depositing you near the head table, he tells you to stay put before he hurries away. You know where he’s going, what he’s about to do, an odd ache taking root and throbbing deep in your chest.

He’d scold you if he could see you, able to read your expressions like a fucking book, would tell you not to cry for him—he doesn’t need your pity. The words cut through your mind in a snarl, and you work hard to rid your face of the frown marring it; he’s already having such a difficult time today, and the last thing you want to do is upset him more with your concern.

Distraction, you need a distraction. Wide eyes scan the extravagant ballroom, all shimmering golds and beiges and crystal chandeliers, searching in a frenzy for something—anything—to rid your mind of images of pretty boys with inky hair and white, white, white.

You swear you hear your name, then Touya’s, hissed out in a sharp whisper, and your gaze lands on a small group of people not too far from you, with snow and fire for hair—the other Todoroki’s, huddled in a loose circle.

The air around you just feels off, you catch his sister saying in a low but frantic voice, eyes darting between her brothers. She sounds worried about you, you think, and it makes you feel weird. She shouldn’t be worried about you; Touya takes fantastic care of you. It isn’t any of their business anyway, you can almost hear Touya sneering in your head, and he’s right. You know he’s right.

Her brothers don’t look too keen on discussing the subject, especially the youngest, who keeps pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell her that yourself,” the one with white hair says, grey eyes connecting with yours. She whirls around quickly, mouth snapping shut when she finds your face. Her lips morph into a smile half a second later, and she waves you over.

You avert your eyes, hands tangling nervously in front of you. No. You shouldn’t go. You really, really shouldn’t go. Touya told you to stay put, and you can’t bear to think—don’t even want to consider—how furious he’d be if he found that not only had you moved, but you had moved to talk to his siblings.

You must spend too much time deliberating, though, looking back up to find them advancing towards you, only a few feet away. Your heart’s pounding almost violently in your chest, breath accelerating with each step closer.

“Hi,” she’s saying warmly as she reaches you, causing you to subconsciously take a step back. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Fuyumi,”

You want to say your name, to introduce yourself politely, but your lips are sealed shut, only able to manage a small sound of affirmation.

“Shouto,” the youngest says, cold heterochromatic eyes glancing at you for a moment before looking away. “M’Shouto,”

“I’m Natsuo,” the man with white hair smirks down at you, eyes burning into yours.

Some of your anxiety melts away as you meet his stone eyes; there’s something comforting about the way that he has Touya’s smirk, Touya’s mischievous glint to his gaze, Touya’s playful lilt to his voice.

You feel like you can breathe again when you’re looking at Natsuo, so you keep your stare directed at him as you stutter out your name, gazing up at him through your lashes.

“You always miss the family dinners,” Natsuo accuses with a knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Y’know, eventually, our parents are going to catch on,”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, chills crawling on your skin. He knows?

And he says it so nonchalantly, so casually, as if he’s discussing the weather and not the fact that Touya deliberately kidnaps you to fuck your brains out in his car every single time they gather for one of those dinners. Fuyumi and Shouto look over at him with brows furrowed in confusion, but you choke on a gasp, coughing a little and nodding.

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

“What’s wrong?” he’s asking immediately as his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you lean on him, heart finally beginning to slow.

“N-Nothing, niichan,” you wrap your arms around his, hugging them to your chest, and he squeezes you in reassurance.

“You sure, baby?” Sapphire eyes search your face as you tilt your head back to look up at him, scanning for any sign of distress.

He shouldn’t be using that pet name here, not in front of his blood siblings, not loud enough that any of the passing guests can hear him with ease.

He shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop it from sending sparks skittering up your spine, heat beginning to coil in your tummy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said you didn’t get some sort of twisted satisfaction at the loud gasp that leaves Fuyumi’s chest, or the sharp intake of breath Shouto chokes on, coughing as he tries to cover it up, all at the drop of that one, simple, four letter word.

Touya loves it, too—you can see it in the way his smirk grows into a full smile, a grin big enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, can see it in his gaze, in the way his cobalt eyes almost sparkle at their reactions.

Your gaze flits back to the three people standing in front of you—your step-siblings, your mind corrects—eyes gliding over their faces slowly.

Natsuo looks thoroughly entertained, a stupid little grin stretched across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuyumi and Shouto, on the other hand, look thoroughly uncomfortable, shifting a little in place, their faces screwed up with poorly masked disgust.

Touya’s smile drops the moment he looks back at them. Azure eyes scan the faces of his siblings cautiously, giving Natsuo one quick, sharp nod of acknowledgment before his gaze lands on the youngest. And the glare Touya gives him is nothing short of terrifying, practically snarling at the boy, a rough, dangerous sound that gets lodged deep in his chest. It makes the boy cower away, shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to his sister, who shakily glares back.

Lips tugging down into a frown, you look up at Touya, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s still glowering at the kid, eyes narrowing just a little before he huffs and turns away, leaving without speaking a word to any of them.

“Don’t you ever talk to them again,” he’s murmuring as he whisks you away, something malicious in his voice. “You’re my little sister,”

You nod obediently, promising him that you won’t, reassuring him that you didn’t even want to as you relay the entire situation. But he can see it, the curiosity swirling in your eyes, a question dancing on your tongue.

Because although Touya appears to be on seriously awful terms with his younger siblings, Natsuo seems to be some sort of exception. From the interaction you just witnessed, you’re able to deduce that something, some line of communication, must be present between Touya and Natsuo, evident in their shared looks and swift, discreet nods.

He sighs, irritation coating his voice as he demands that you spit it out already.

It makes you jump a little, but the words come tumbling out of your mouth the moment he commands them to, powerless to disobey a direct order.

“Does that include Natsuo?”

Your voice is so tiny that he barely hears you, brows knitting together. There’s an odd look in his eye as he observes you—something that isn’t quite jealousy, but close to it—nose twitching a little as he considers.

“Alone, yes,” he finally says. “With me around it’s fine, I guess. But you are not to speak to him alone, do you hear me?”

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Dinner is absolute torture, and the two of you can barely keep your hands off of each other. It starts innocently enough, discreetly enough, with palms on thighs, fingers brushing down arms, hands interlaced under the table. But the need to touch grows, and grows, and grows, these simple actions too teasing to satisfy that dull burning in the pit of your stomach, flaring a little more each time his fingers press into your thigh, or his thumb runs across your knuckles.

And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t start acting up now, not while the two of you are seated at the head table, looking out amongst the guests—a few months ago, you would’ve never thought to do something so indecent, so dangerous, in such a public place. But you just can’t help it, you’re getting restless now, brain going hazy with thoughts of him as your fingers trail up his thigh and ghost over his lap.

“Getting bold, are we, princess?” his hand catches your wrist, holding your palm in place and grinding up into it. His voice is low, head tipped towards you, sapphire eyes dark. A breath catches in your throat and he smirks, an evil little quirk up of his lips, raising an eyebrow at you in expectation.

You’re lucky they’re seated in a straight line instead of a circle, he murmurs in your ear, Natsuo snickering beside him. “Imagine what your daddy would think if he could see you, acting like such a desperate little slut in front of all of these people,”

A soft, broken moan escapes your lips without your permission, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to combat the heat pooling in your panties. Someone down the line of the table says something, but you’re too enticed by Touya to hear them, your father writing off whatever the remark was with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, those two are always in their own little world,” you hear him dismiss, voice sounding muddled and distant.  

“Be a good girl and sit still,” Touya growls in your ear, grip tightening to near bruising.

“But niichan,” you whine, much too loud, gazing at him with glazed, blown eyes. “Niichan,” you repeat, leaning forward to whimper in his ear, fingers flexing around the bulge in his trousers. “N-Need you,”

“If you can’t behave, niichan won’t let you cum later,” he breathes, though his voice is stern, heavy with the weight of the threat.

A pout forms on your lips as he releases your wrist, firmly placing your hand back in your lap and holding it there for a moment, a silent warning for your wandering fingers to stay put.

But he’s up and out of his chair the instant dinner’s over, moving so quick his seat wobbles a little as he grasps your hand tightly in his, practically yanking you up and dragging you along behind him.

The best thing about these fancy venues, he’s telling you as he strides through the halls, cerulean eyes searching for something, is that they have single person washrooms.

The granite is cold on your cheek as Touya shoves you up against the wall, head bouncing a little as it whacks against it.

You whine and he laughs, a cruel, piercing sound echoing off the walls.

“Aw, baby,” he coos contemptuously. “Did that hurt?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut against the throbbing pain radiating through your cheek.

“Poor little thing,” he hisses, lips against your ear as his hands begin to bunch up your dress, gliding over your silk covered thighs, hands fisting in the material as he goes. Pushing it up around your waist, he leans back, hands travelling over the globes of your ass and kneading hard enough to make you cry out.

“You’re a slutty little brat, y’know that?”

Deft fingers hook in the waistband of your thong, all delicate baby pink lace, Touya snickering about how much of a whore you are, wearing such skimpy, slutty panties, as he lets the elastic snap back against your skin.

A little shocked gasp escapes your lips as he begins tugging the dainty fabric down your thighs—you had expected him to merely push them to the side, but he forces you to take them off entirely, stuffing the soaked material in his pocket.

“You think you can just tease niichan like that and get away with it?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head against the wall.

“No,” he murmurs, hips grinding against your bare ass. “Good girls don’t tease their niichans without delivering, do they?”

“No,”

“On your knees,” he orders, spinning you around and stepping back just enough to allow you to sink to the floor. “Get my cock wet,”

Little fingers work quickly, eager to obey, as they undo his pants, practically salivating as you free his cock from its confines.

“Your cock’s so pretty, niichan,” you breathe, eyes glittering with pure, potent desire as you take it in your hands, tongue darting out to trace the prominent veins.

“No teasing,” he growls, a hand knotting in your hair. “I wanna see you choke on it,”

You nod as best you can, mouth instantly falling open, reduced to nothing more than a wet, warm little hole for him to stuff.

And then he’s shoving it down your throat, the hand fisted in your hair holding your head still, and you gag around it almost immediately, working to force you jaw open even more.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he rasps out, voice echoing off the walls of the washroom.

The praise has your heart soaring, has you sucking hard around him as he thrusts into your mouth, coating his cock in thick saliva and desperate to hear more. It’s intoxicating, every quiet moan you manage to pull from him, every breathless good girl that falls from his lips, makes you feel lightheaded and heady and dizzy for more.

His hips pump a few more times before he’s pulling you off his cock completely, devious smirk forming on his lips at your whine of protest, and commanding you to go bend over the sink.

Calloused hands are bunching your dress up around your waist again, toe of his shoe kicking at your inner ankles and forcing your feet further apart.

He doesn’t bother stretching you out, not because he doesn’t have the time to, but because he simply doesn’t want to. It’s truly one of his favourite things, to see tears fill your eyes while his cock stretches your cute little pussy, and he knows you love it too, don’t you?

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

His cock glistens with your saliva, sufficiently wet that it slides in easily enough, with minimal pain for him. And the soft groan he lets out as he watches your little hole struggle to take him, paired with your sweet little whimpers of his name, is nothing short of gorgeous.

It has your pussy fluttering around him, pulling a breathless chuckle from his lips as he fills you to the hilt, hips pressed against your ass.

And then doesn’t fucking move.

Your brow furrows, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You try to fuck yourself back on him, but he’s too quick, hands stilling your hips immediately and tutting in disapproval.

“Niichan,” you whimper. “N-Niichan, please fuck me,”  

“Do you think you deserve it?” he’s asking, tongue tracing the shell of your ear as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “After the way you behaved at dinner?”

“M’sorry,” you whine, wiggling back against him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stops them, grip tightening. “Couldn’t help it, wanted you so bad,”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he smirks, hips starting to move slowly, teasingly, stilling after only three simple thrusts. A hand reaches down and finds your clit, forcing a gasp from you as his thumb brushes over it, back and forth, back and forth, featherlight grazes that have you arching back into him, trying to press further into his touch.

“Think you can cum just like this for me?” he asks, beginning to thrust shallowly again, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging against that spot buried deep inside your cunt, that spot he knows so well, then nudging your cervix. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, breath starting to come out in short little pants.

“Then do it,” he demands in a whisper, eyes still holding yours. “Show niichan how pretty you look, cumming all over his cock,”

And the combination of his deep, rough voice rumbling against your back as praises tumble from his lips, his thumb and cock, and the fact that anyone within a fifteen foot radius of this washroom could probably hear you, has you cumming within minutes with a sharp cry of Touya-nii!  

Touya laughs at how pathetically quickly you came, about how easy it is to have you creaming on his cock, heat seeping into your cheeks as you try to look away.

“My turn,” he breathes, yanking your head back up by your hair, fingers finding root in the intricate updo that has begun to fall apart. “And I wanna see your face as I fuck you, so keep your damn head up,”

And then he’s slamming into you with enough vigour to propel you forward, face pressed against the mirror, toes barely touching the ground. Every moan and whimper and mewl he forces from your throat fogs up the glass, leaving tiny glistening drops of condensation as they fade.

You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open, to watch him as he fucks you, because he always looks so damn pretty.  

He’s stupidly attractive, with his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, first few buttons undone and collar popped, revealing his sharp collarbone, smooth ivory skin stretched taut across it. Ebony hair clings to his forehead and neck delicately, coated in sweat, and he’s emitting the most glorious noises, heavy pants and little broken whines, peppered with praise.

Nails bite into your flesh as he holds you in place, hips snapping relentlessly, your fingers curling around the porcelain sink.

“You want niichan’s cum?” he growls in your ear, eyes burning into yours. You whimper in response, nodding against the mirror. “Yeah? Then fucking beg for it.”

Pleads are spilling from your lips immediately, nothing but senseless babbling as he pounds into you.

“Please, niichan, please, need it, your cum, stuff me with your cum,”

“That’s it,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I want every single person in this godforsaken hall to hear you, I want every single person to know how much of—” he cuts himself off with a shuddery curse. “—How much of a slut my baby sister is,”

“Pretty please,” you whine out the words, eyes rolling back in your head. “Fill me up with your cum, niichan, I-I want it,”

His hips still just as your cunt clenches around him, cockhead pressed tightly against your cervix as he fills you with hot, thick ropes of cum.

He pulls out a few moments later, and you uncurl your fingers from around the rim of the sink, wincing at your appearance; lips bitten raw, hair beginning to fall from it’s elegant style, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

You look back at him to find him already staring at you, expectantly, impatiently, hands jittery as he quirks his head towards the door.

“We can’t leave together,” he says, as if it’s obvious, even though you stumbled into the washroom together twenty minutes ago.

He needs more.

You nod, slow and dumb, staggering a little on your trembling legs. Grasping the doorknob you pause, turning to look at him again.

“What?” he asks as he searches through his pockets, not bothering to glance at you. He can feel your eyes on him.

“Um...” you shift nervously from foot to foot, lip caught between your teeth.

He looks over at you sharply, brows rising as if to ask why are you still here?

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, brows relaxing.

“What about them?”

“Well, I—I can’t return to the reception without them,”

“Oh, and why not?”

You pause, blinking a few times, at a loss for words. Why not? Because you can feel his cum beginning to trickle out of you, mixing with your juices and dribbling down your inner thigh?

“Exactly,” he says, when you take too long to reply. “Now be a good little girl and go. I’ll be out soon,”

       ✰          ✰          ✰

You don’t go back into the ballroom, terrified that you’ll be ambushed by his—your—siblings again. Collapsing in one of the plush chairs, you cross your quivering legs tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the cum oozing out of you from getting on your dress.

People are looking again, probably think you’re drunk based on the way you teetered over to the seat, or the way your hair’s begun to come undone from it’s intricate updo, wispy strands framing your face.

He returns from the washroom only a few minutes later, eyes finding you immediately. There’s a stupid, smug smirk on his face, thinks it’s so cute that he fucked you so good you can’t walk, can’t even get up, that you need your niichan to help you.

A pout forms on your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Not funny,”

“Very funny,” he chuckles as his hands snake under your armpits, hauling you to your feet. You stumble a little, bumping into him and he laughs again, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and propping you up against him.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

“Oh, niichan,” you murmur and he pauses, glancing over at you. You reach up, your thumb swiping across his nose to collect excess white powder.

“Thanks,” he breathes, winking at you. You hum noncommittally, about to rub your thumb across his white dress shirt to clean it when he catches your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips and licking it instead.

It isn’t discreet. It’s slow and deliberate, tongue sticking out of his mouth, flattening it against your thumb and dragging it up, from base to tip. You’re sure someone saw that, but you can’t be bothered to care, not when another bout of intense heat rushes to your core, forcing you to squeeze your legs together, trying in vain to keep Touya’s cum from seeping out, from your juices traveling down your leg. A soft whimper leaves your lips, breathing beginning to accelerate as your eyes bore into his, now half-lidded and dark. He holds your gaze for a moment before something snaps.

“We need to go,” he says, voice firm with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

And, God, his voice is rough and raw and fucking dripping with desire. It’s got you nodding before he’s even finished speaking, a flock of butterflies invading your stomach at the downright sinful grin he gives you in response. Such a good girl for him.

Despite the fact that you’ve barely recovered from your previous orgasm, you nearly moan at his look alone, the urge to kiss him burning through your veins and alighting your entire body in direct juxtaposition to the shivers his eyes just sent rippling across your skin. The insatiable need overwhelms your senses, and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous, how captivated he has you, entirely wrapped around his slim finger and hanging on his every word, how you’re positive that, in that moment, you’d do anything he asked.

You wobble awkwardly in your heels, legs still shaking and having trouble keeping up with Touya’s swift pace. You’re about to ask him to slow down just a little so you don’t break an ankle, when you bump into your father.

Who just so happens to provide you with the perfect excuse to leave early. You can practically see the gears clicking into place in Touya’s mind, sapphire eyes glittering as a sinister smirk spreads across his face.

Your father’s eyes widen as he observes your appearance, strands of hair sticking to your clammy face and eyes half-lidded, chapped lips beginning to crack, leaning heavily against Touya and seemingly too weak to stand on your own.

“Hi dad,” you greet hoarsely, wincing a little at how grating your voice sounds.

He frowns immediately. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you feeling alright? You look…” he trails off, forehead wrinkling with worry.

“Oh, she’s not feeling too good,” Touya says softly, smoothly, just the right amount of concern and compassion in his tone.

“Oh no,” your father breathes, frown deepening. “That’s terrible,” he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to tough out the rest of the reception?”

You begin to croak out an answer, but Touya speaks over you.

“She’s burning up, sir,” he informs him, and it isn’t a lie—not exactly, anyway. Technically, if your father were to feel your forehead, your body temperature would be above average, a result of Touya fucking the absolute life out of you a mere ten minutes ago.

Touya looks down at you with painfully sympathetic eyes, but you can still see that little glint of mischief, buried under all of that artificial benevolence.

“Maybe I should take her home?” Touya muses, looking back at your father, mimicking his anxiety effortlessly.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “I think that’s the best thing to do,” his eyes dart to yours. “You really don’t look well,”

Oh, you’re sure you don’t. Resting a little more against Touya, you play up the symptoms a bit, whimpering quietly as little fingers twist in his shirt, nuzzling your face against his side. A soft noise of endearment sounds at the back of his throat, large hands readjusting your body to support you better.

Another whimper falls from your lips, but this time it isn’t from pretending you’re ill. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, slimy and cool as it drips down your inner thigh, and a sick thrill shoots through your body, abused cunt throbbing greedily.

Rei comes up behind your father then, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes flitting between the two of you carefully.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I’m gonna bring this little princess home,” Touya explains, nodding his head at you in indication as he speaks. “She isn’t feeling very well, poor thing,”

And it’s scary, scary how terrific he is at lying, how easily he slips into that niichan role, the one painstakingly crafted and flawlessly maintained around your parents, the one he’s perfected at this point.

Rei doesn’t say much, only cooing in sympathy, remarking that it’s such a shame, but your father’s eyes soften. “Such a good big brother,” he praises, clapping a hand on Touya’s shoulder.

Touya has to consciously work to smother the smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he responds.

“You have no idea,”  

       ✰          ✰          ✰

Your parents don’t come home that night, opting to go straight to the airport from the venue, embarking on their honeymoon immediately.

It’s nice, playing house with Touya, having the entire place completely to yourselves. He’s been home an awful lot these past few weeks, more than he ever has in the past, and you get to experience things you never could before.

Every morning and every night, you cook breakfast and dinner together. You go grocery shopping together, wash the dishes together, fold the laundry together, all while stealing kisses in between; little domestic things you didn’t really do with your parents around.

You spend every night that they’re away in his bed, being fucked into his mattress, surrounded by the smell of him—campfire and Marlboros and expensive cologne—absolutely full of him in every sense.

You wake up in the mornings with his hand between your legs, playing with your cute little clit, or his cock pressed against your ass, grinding until you wake up. You have sleepy, slow morning sex while you’re both still half asleep, and it’s the most gentle he’s ever been. It consists of lazy, sloppy, messy thrusts against each other, hips meeting halfway—just grinding until he gets too impatient, though he usually lets you cum two or three times before he finally flips you over, trapping you under his body and slamming his hips into you, growling and grunting, your legs pushed up and folded on either side of you.

You get to fuck in the kitchen—not that you hadn’t before, but this time you get to take it slow. He eats you out while you sit on the counter and then fucks you into oblivion and it’s nasty, it’s disgusting, it’s so good. He cums so much that it’s leaking out of you, onto the counter, his chest heaving as he observes it with an odd little smile and a soft “fuck,”

And you get to fuck in the bathtub, that big jacuzzi in your parents room, water and bubbles sloshing around as you bounce on his cock, loud cries echoing off the walls.

It’s going great, until the last weekend of the honeymoon, a mere few days before your parents are supposed to return.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

A party.

Keigo tries to talk him out of it, tries to at least talk him out of letting you stay.

“She shouldn’t be here,” you hear Keigo hiss under his breath as guests begin to fill the house, Touya snorting in retort.

Keigo doesn’t think you should be around any of this at all—there’s no reason you should have to witness this shit, you catch him growling, gold eyes blazing. No, not a poor innocent babygirl like you, this isn’t the place for you.

But Touya’s too stubborn, too selfish to let Keigo take you out for the night. He knows he’s right, would rather not have you around these people, but he doesn’t have a fucking choice. The thought of you being out of his sight, out with another man, has anxiety rising in his throat, panic clawing at his chest.

As a result, you spend the entirety of the party being passed between Touya and Keigo. There are so many girls here, so many people you don’t know, wide eyes scanning the living room as your fingers twist in Keigo’s hoodie.

Niichan’s busy, Touya tells you, when you ask why you can’t just stay with him, when you ask where he keeps disappearing off to. Niichan’s working, don’t you know? Be a good girl and stay with Kei.

You can tell that Keigo isn’t happy about it. He coos softly when you timidly ask if he’s upset that he’s stuck babysitting you all night, in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off.

“It isn’t your fault, songbird,” he murmurs, gentle fingers tracing the curve of your face.

He’s even angrier at Touya when he takes that first girl back to his room, because the look on your face—the way it crumples accompanied by a soft, hurt sound caught at the back of your throat—kills him.

And it isn’t like you don’t know about his side whores. You do. They’re customers, he had snapped at you, the only time you had ever asked about it. But it’s an entirely different thing to actually have to witness it with your own eyes.

You can’t help the flare of jealousy that rises in your chest every time he takes a girl by the hand and leads them to his bedroom. It stings, burns, feels like a fire’s been lit in your chest, filling your lungs with dense smoke and making it hard for you to breathe.

Keigo tries his best to distract you, gentle fingers on your cheeks turning your face towards him, golden eyes softening in sympathy. He keeps you as preoccupied as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Your eyes are drawn to Touya every time he’s in the room—an automatic, instinctual reaction you couldn’t control even if you wanted to.

And every time you watch a girl giggle into his ear, or hop up with him, that fire smoldering in your chest blazes, rages, has you wheezing and hissing and pressing a palm flat against yourself, a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop.

Tomura’s here, too, though he’s sitting in a shrouded corner on his phone, the light from the screen reflected on his pale face, colours flashing intermittently. He looks absorbed with whatever he’s doing on there—probably playing a game, Keigo tells you, but why are you interested, anyway?

You don’t know, you aren’t sure, you can’t exactly put it into words. He terrifies you, but he sparks a morbid curiosity in you, too. He’s so silent, private, almost inobtrusive; and yet Touya never lets you anywhere near him. Your eyes keep flitting his way, as if trying to will something to happen, staring at him longingly and hoping he’ll look up from his phone for a split second and catch your gaze, that he’ll somehow magically get the hint that you’re desperate and dying to talk to him, and take the first step.

But it doesn’t happen.

Touya is thoroughly unimpressed each and every time he finds you sitting on Keigo’s knee or lap, leaning back against his chest as he speaks with that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, but there isn’t much he can do. The third time he returns to take you from his friend he can tell you’re beginning to get tired, can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re cuddling into a warm chest. He debates sending you to bed right then and there, but you protest, little hands tangling in Keigo’s hoodie.

“Aw, she’s alright for a little more, isn’t she?”

Touya’s sharp jaw clenches twice and he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darting between your faces.

“Fine,” he says, although it doesn’t seem fine.

And you are exhausted, straddling Keigo’s hips, face pressed into his shoulder and hot breath evening out softly against his neck. Fingers ghost up and down your spine nonchalantly as Keigo talks softly to the people around him, his laugh vibrating against your chest and filling you with an odd, tingly sensation, a warmth that seeps through your body. You snuggle a little closer to him and he coos, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

“Don’t wanna go to bed with him,” you whisper, words muffled by his skin.

Keigo hums in question, squeezing you once. “Who, songbird?” he presses his lips to your ear as inconspicuously as he can, lidded gold eyes lazily scanning the room for your brother. “Touya?”

You nod sluggishly, little fingers curling in his hoodie, a silent plea not to let you go.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Keigo says softly with a small chuckle, but it sounds off to your ears—sad, even.

“Don’t wanna,” you repeat, pout evident in your voice. “Wanna stay with you,”

You wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest hitches at those four words if you weren’t pressed flush against it. But you feel it, feel his breath getting caught in his throat, reverberating against you as he clears it quietly. Unexpected guilt sours your mouth, makes your stomach turn to a block of heavy lead, weighting your body down.

“You know you can’t, sweetheart,” he finally responds, voice cracking just a bit, right on that last word. “Don’t hurt your niichan like that, he loves you,”

No he doesn’t, you want to say, but you can’t seem to force the words from your mouth, opting to shake your head instead, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears.

“He does,” Keigo says, more sternly this time. “Don’t doubt that,”

But you’re not so sure. If Touya loved you—really loved you—would he have disappeared no less than three times tonight, each with a different girl, leading them into his bedroom with those dark glittering sapphire eyes while they gaze up at him like he hung the fucking moon himself?

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

You keep your face buried in Keigo’s chest to block it out, to keep yourself from watching your big brother as he flits around the room, handing out discreet baggies in exchange for ridiculous wads of cash and talking in hushed voices, in code, to men who look much too old to be at a house party.

Eventually, Touya returns to retrieve you, bending down and speaking softly.

“It’s time for bed, princess,” A hand pets your head, and you flinch away.

“Hey,” you feel the couch dip beside you as he sits down. “Look at me,”

You’re shaking your head, trying in vain to press even closer to Keigo, but that doesn’t stop Touya from reaching out and gripping your chin, forcing you to face him.

Crystal eyes search your face carefully, wide and alert—he always works sober, you found out. He can tell you’re upset, can see it written plain as day across your face, eyes glassy with your lips set in a deep pout, eyebrows pushed together. Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes, fingers rubbing at his eyes in exasperation.

“C’mon,” he says lowly, wrapping a hand around your bicep and tugging as he stands.

“No,” you nearly growl, shaking your head and viciously pulling your arm from his grip.

Touya stares at you for a moment, like he cannot believe you just had the audacity to tell him no, before he speaks, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “What did you just say?”

Keigo’s sitting up straighter now, more alert as your body subconsciously curls into his chest, cowering away from your big brother. “Y-You heard me,”

Snorting in disbelief, Touya raises his eyebrows as his tongue runs along the front of his teeth, huffing out the remnants of a chuckle before his smile drops completely, blue fire blazing in his dark eyes.

“Get up,” he snarls, hand in a vice grip around your arm as he yanks harshly. The force of it has you practically falling off Keigo’s lap, though Touya catches you roughly before your knees hit the hardwood, hoisting you up by your arm to stand on unsteady feet.

“Move.” He instructs, giving you a shove in the vague direction of his bedroom. “Now.”

His chest bumps into your back and you stumble forward, yelping softly. He keeps pushing like this, strong hand clasping your shoulder so tightly you’re sure you’ll have five little bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, driving you to walk with the sheer force of his body.

“No,” your whispering, trying desperately to turn back and look at him as you approach his door, tears flooding your eyes, frantically shaking your head and trying your damnedest to plant your feet, heels digging into the floor in an attempt to stop him from pushing you forward.

“You really gonna say no to me a second time tonight? In less than fifteen minutes? You think that’s wise, baby?”

You don’t—of course you don’t. It’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do, in this situation.

But even though you know, know this isn’t a smart move, know you shouldn’t be testing him like this—challenging him like this, especially in front of so many people—you’re powerless to control the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I don’t want to sleep in a bed that’s been infested by your whores,”

They come out as a hiss—you don’t mean for them to, but they do, voice quivering under the combined weight of your fury and fear.

That gets him to stop, entire body going rigid. Icy dread rushes through your veins, panic clawing its way up your throat, forcing uneven breaths through your parted lips. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you brace yourself for the impact of his bellowing voice, shoulders tensing in anticipation for the blow, for him to really snap.

Except then he starts laughing, his hand relaxing around your shoulder, spinning you around to face him as he backs you up against his bedroom door, caging you in with his body.

“That’s what this is about?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you blink twice in disbelief, prompting hot tears to finally spill over. “I—Wh-Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

It hurts, stings like three massive spikes just shot through your heart, causes a tiny whimper to sound from deep in your throat, chest hiccupping with pathetic little half-sobs.

“Sil…Silly?” Time feels as if it’s slowed, your sluggish brain having trouble comprehending the situation unfolding.

His lips pull down into a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards you with extreme precision. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds far away, muffled, like you’re underwater and he’s speaking to you from above the surface. “Hey—”

Your head’s shaking again, in slow, delayed motions from side to side. “No,” you whisper. “No.”

You feel nauseous, and the proximity of his presence is only making it worse, making you feel like you could hurl at any moment. Little hands find purchase on his chest and push, stomach lurching painfully as your head spins.

He catches your wrists easily, holding them together in one large hand, his other coming to grip your chin and force you to look at him.

Thick silence settles between the two of you as Touya’s eyes study your face slowly, noting the tears flowing steadily down your face, the way your breath stutters with sobs you’re so desperately trying to hold back, the way your entire body trembles.

“Are you seriously upset over this?” he asks, laughing a little.

Your gaze holds his, tears casting a thick, gleaming screen across your eyes.

“Yes, Touya,” you whisper, wishing your voice didn’t sound as small and weak as it does. “I’m seriously upset,”

That’s the first time you’ve used his first name—just his first name, void of any honorific—in a long, long time.

It gets him to pause again, his usual and well-worn mask of passivity melting away for just a second as shock crosses his face. Then his features are hardening again, brows knitting together and creasing his forehead, eyes narrowing into near slits.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spits harshly, the words cutting into your flesh. “You know none of them mean a thing,”

“Then why do you fuck around with them?” you shoot back almost immediately, voice fading into a whisper.

He glares at you, as if you’re wasting his precious time with such childish questions when he’s told you this already, and you can see the blue fire simmering in his eyes.

“It’s late,” he says curtly, voice sounding off to you. “You need sleep.”

You try to fight him on it, but he’s too quick, reflexes too swift, and he shoves you into his room, door slamming shut less than a second later.

Tears obstruct your vision as you stumble around, finally finding his desk chair and collapsing heavily. You don’t even bother trying to open the door, know it’s locked without having to hear that soft click! as the lock turns into place.

He’s right—it is late, well past three in the morning, and you are utterly exhausted, drawing your knees up to your chest and curling up in the plush chair.

But no matter how tired you are, you absolutely refuse to sleep in his bed. The party’s dying down, you can hear Touya’s muffled farewells as guests begin to leave while you fade in and out of consciousness.

You think you might’ve heard Keigo say something, might’ve caught the word stay, might’ve detected the annoyance laced in Touya’s voice as he responds, but you’re too worn out to reflect on it.

At some point in the night, Touya reenters his room, chuckling a little at your antics and carrying you to his bed.

The move wakes you, and you weakly protest—no, you don’t want to be in this bed, please, just let you go sleep in your own bed—but Touya ignores you entirely, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tightly to his chest.

It’s then that the tears start up again, salt staining your puffy cheeks, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he hushes you, nimble fingers combing through your hair. “I’m here, right here,”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Touya over these past few weeks, it’s that he becomes marginally softer in the middle of the night. Your fingers twist in his t-shirt, trying in vain to pull yourself impossibly closer, Touya making a soft noise akin to a coo in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

You hate it. You hate that he’s the only person you want comforting you right now, as you lay in his bed, surrounded by the smell of cheap perfume and clinging in desperation to him, needing him close, needing his body heat warming you and his hands on you. You hate the way your sobs come harder the more he soothes you, the heavy ache in your chest almost bruising, crushing your lungs and making it near impossible to breathe.

But you crave his comfort nonetheless. It’s a special kind of comfort, one that’s difficult to describe, one that only comes from the love and adoration and protection of a big brother.

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop, pause, his words reverberating in your mind. He sounds almost like…like he’s upset over this fact, like he wishes that you didn’t have all of him.

You want to press for more, to probe and prod and pick away at it, but exhaustion finally claims you, rendering you incapable of speech, your tongue moving sluggishly in your mouth as you desperately try to form words.

       ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s grey when you wake, only a few hours later, eyes sticky and dry from lack of sleep. Your head is pounding, feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, and a painful lump forms almost immediately in your throat when you get a whiff of sickly sweet artificial vanilla, then another of intense, synthetic citrus.

The tears are starting up again, collecting in your eyes and clouding your vision. It makes you nauseous, makes your skin crawl and your chest burn as your throat fills with acid. The tears sting, but you blink hard to keep them at bay. You will not cry, not in front of him, not in his bed surrounded by the remnants of those other girls, not again. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

You spring up quickly, halfway through climbing over Touya’s body when a strong hand latches onto your wrist.

“No,” Touya mumbles, face half buried in his pillow. “Stay,”

“No,” you whisper, pulling yourself free from his grasp and hurrying out of his room. You can smell them on your clothes, on your skin, and it makes you want to scrub your body under scalding water until it’s raw.

Everything hurts—it hurts so much it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, like you can’t breathe, gasping for air as you stumble onto the porch, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stop and realize you have nowhere to go.

Touya has cut you off from all of your friends at this point; any spare time you had was now claimed by him.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to follow after you, isn’t worried about you going anywhere, knows you can’t leave him, no matter how badly you want to. No, not a precious little girl like you, with nowhere to find refuge.

You sit down heavily on one of the front steps, vision so blurry with tears you’re barely able to make out the figure advancing towards you. They’re finally escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you blink twice, trying to clear them. Your chest stutters under the force of a sob you’re desperately trying to hold back, clapping both hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence it.

“Hey—oh no,” Keigo breathes the moment your watery eyes look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, causing more tears to leak out as your shoulders shake, whole body trembling from the force of your sobs, poorly muffled by your palms.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he’s saying as he rushes to sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders tightly.

Keigo’s the closest thing you have to a friend now. And really, you should be embarrassed by the way you practically fling yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your hands form fists in his t-shirt. He’s a little startled by your borderline violent reaction, but he recovers quickly, arms encircling your body and pulling you against him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing your back while the other pets your hair. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,”

And you hate the way his words almost directly mirror Touya’s, the way his low sultry voice turned gentle and soft as he carded deft fingers through your hair echoing almost painfully in your head. But Keigo lets you cry, lets you stain his t-shirt with salty tears and saliva until you’ve got nothing left, never stopping his compassionate motions.

“You…Stayed the night?” you pull back a little, the fact that he’s still here, blonde hair all mussed up from sleep, finally dawning on you.

“Well, yeah,” he says, a little bashful as he looks away and ducks his head. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, s’all. Last night was…” he trails off, frowning. “What happened?”

Golden eyes search your face, his forehead crinkling in concern. A beat of silence passes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…” kind fingers move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better if you let it out, promise. And, not to brag or anything, but I’m preee-tty good at this kind’a stuff,” he chuckles a little.

“Got in a fight,” you whisper, eyes staring intently at the brick wall behind his shoulder as your chin trembles slightly, memories of last night flashing through your mind.

“A fight? With Touya?” Keigo moves his head a little, forcing his face into your field of vision and catching your face with tender fingers when you try to look away.

“Yeah,” tears are beginning to well up in your eyes as you think about it, the sheer fact that you’re in a fight making your heart feel like it’s ripping itself to shreds. A chaotic storm of emotions brews in your chest, switching mercilessly and swirling together so quickly that you can’t even tell what they are. Your insides feel all jumbled up, and trying to decipher what the heck’s going on only makes your head ache more.

They torment you, a deep sense of anguish finally settling at the core. You’re confused, livid at Touya for being such a jackass; jealous, because you want him all to yourself; heartbroken, because you want—need—his approval, desperate to hear him tell you that you’re his good little baby girl.

You want to be his good little baby girl.

But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Get used to it, he had told you once, when you had complained about something so silly, so simple as him eating the last ice cream cookie sandwich (he made it up to you, of course, telling you he wanted to taste your cream—such a cheeseball—and making you cum three times before taking you out to buy more).

No, it isn’t fair, but you don’t care. You want him to be yours, too.

Keigo tsks, bringing your attention back to him, mouth set in a hard line as sad eyes watch you. “What was it about?”

“I-It…H-He—” a shuddery breath cuts you off, and Keigo draws you into his arms, holding you against his chest as the sobs start up again, sobs that make it feel like your body’s about to tear apart, desperately clutching Keigo to try and keep yourself together.

“Oh, songbird,” he coos, rocking you gently. “Is it…Um, the other girls?”

“Yes,”

“But you know you’re his favourite, right?”

“D-Does it even matter, if he’s still fucking them anyway?” you ask, pulling back suddenly as hot anger flashes through you. “Why does he need them? Am I—” a sob cuts you off, but you swallow it, persevering. “Am I not good enough?” your voice breaks on the last word, fading into a whisper, big teary eyes scanning his face almost frantically, seeking an answer in his expression.

Keigo blinks, surprised by your sudden brashness, then gives you a small, sad smile. “Only he can answer that, sugarplum,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray tear and wipe it across your cheekbone. “But just because he’s fucking around, doesn’t mean that you can’t, too,”

Your head tilts to the side, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine,” Keigo shrugs, leaning back a little. “He definitely deserves it, for making an angel such as yourself so upset,”

You sniffle a little, wiping at your nose with the paw of your sweater as you consider the prospect.

“Y’know, it technically isn’t cheating, since you guys aren’t in any sort of official relationship to begin with,” Keigo reminds you gently, nudging just a tiny bit more.

It isn’t right—you know it isn’t. You’ve never been one to fight fire with fire, often preferring to avoid conflict and drama, but you’re so hurt; you’re so angry at him—angry at the way he reacted, as if it was you in the wrong, angry at the fact that he doesn’t even seen to care about your feelings on the issue, because he knows you’ll come running back either way, angry because he’s right, as evident in the way pathetically clung to him last night—that all you want to do in that moment is cause him a shred of the pain he’s causing you.

It’s an impulsive decision that has you pulling out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts, thumb jabbing at Tomura’s name—Touya had given you his number for emergencies only—before you have time to think it through, before you have time to regret it.

Tiny thumbs fly across the keyboard, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline accelerates your breathing.

Hey. Let’s hang out.

Keigo inhales through his teeth next to you, and your eyes dart to him in surprise, as if you had forgotten he was there.

“Well,” he begins, though his voice sounds odd to you—unlike his usually nonchalant, happy-go-lucky manner. “That’s, uh, definitely one that’s gonna hurt him, songbird,”

You look back down at your phone to see Tomura typing a response.

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”

[kettouryuujin]

Past and Future about Discussions - Wait. Strike that. Reverse it.

[Inspired by @monsoon-of-art​‘s Pokerus AU] Lian groaned. His body was… well, still gloopy. Great, it wasn’t a dream… he’d had such a long rest that he’d been hoping this blindness was just a nightmare, but…no. He still couldn’t see anything. His hearing was as good as ever, though, if not more so - meaning he could hear what was going on around him rather easily.

“Seriously, thanks... I wasn’t sure how long he’d be out, or if he would...you know...” Rei? That was Rei, yeah.

“Don’t worry. I just had to rope in some help...” The Survey Team Captain?

Growling grumbles. “Just...shut up.” Well, that was Adaman...

“I...am loath to agree, but he is right. Forcing us to drag our poor Warden back was...quite rude.” C-Clan Leader Iridia?

Cyllene mentioned something about best available options, but the blind Warden paid it no mind. Instead, he pulled his head out of the shell (once he found the hole again) and spoke up. “Miss Irida! Are you alright?!”

The first response was something slamming into his shell, sending him wobbling. The slight chill through his shell was enough to tell him who it was, though. “L-Lian! You’re alright! Oh, we thought we’d lost you...”

The Sliggoo leaned down, giving his Leader a small nuzzle. “It’s alright... I’m far more worried about my Lord...” Wait. “Actually, what are you doing he-” A goopy head jerked up as Lian listened to the surroundings in a way he hadn’t earlier, distracted by grogginess and realizing the Pearl Clan Leader was within earshot. 

The Sliggoo had no choice but to hone his other senses as his sight left him, and right now everything was screaming five words at him: “THIS IS NOT THE FIELDLANDS!!” Even with the strange variations that sprung up a week ago, this sounded far too close to a village to be near his Lord’s home. And it was most definitely NOT the Pearl Settlement. He’d not been to the Diamond Settlement since his...changes (not that he ever had much reason to go there anyways), but given how things were there was only one reasonable conclusion. “...M-Miss Irida...” A gulp. “Why are we in Jubilife Village?”

He could hear the Clan Leader choke back a sob, fear and worry wafting off of her in waves. And not just her, similar emotions were rolling through the room like a Sinnoh-sized bouquet. It honestly made him wonder if going blind was the worst thing that’d happened to him...

And upon hearing his Leader’s answer? He had to accept that yes, blindness was not the worst thing that had happened to him.

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

“So... you actually had to fight the Warden?” A large Snorlax grunted, trying to draw attention back to him. Sorry pal, Ms. Scary Abra (yes, Akari knew her name was Cyllene and she was the Survey Corps Captain, but to the Dewott she was Ms. Scary Abra until further notice) was kinda keeping more focus. Even if this giant Normal-type was technically above her.

She was able to snap her focus back to the fat ‘mon to reply, however. “Y-yes sir. And it was odd... he’d only been in there for a couple weeks, when usually it takes a month for-”

*SLAM!!* Up she went, and down she fell on on her side. Thank Arceus for Oran Berries. “I wasn’t asking for comments!” A groan as the (Snorlax) head of the Galaxy Team, Commander Kamado, leaned back with a grumble. “The situation is bad enough as it is, we do not need conjecture tossed in.”

“With all due respect, sir?” Wah! Ms. Scary Abra was talking! “I have to politely disagree.” Wait.

“What?!” Ok, Akari had thought that the same exact time the Commander said it. Kinda Creepy, but even weirder was the fact that Ms. Scary Abra apparently wanted Akari’s comments?! “As loath as I am to admit it-” Ah, there’s that good ol’ disapproval- “She does seem to be the only one here who knows anything about these distortions. Thus, I say we should let her speak... Just take all she says with a grain of salt until we can corroborate it.” 

Groan and slump while the Snorlax grumbles, that seems appropriate for the situation. “Well, fine. And I suppose you want me to take Rei’s account as “corroboration” for what happened with Lian?” Aaaand time to perk back up as Ms. Scary Abra just gave a “so-so” motion with her hand. “...FINE. Ugh.” A meaty paw barely ran down a meaty face, the meaty body getting in the way nevertheless. “So. Talk.” Oh-kay, noiw he’s focused on her and is almost as scary as Cyllene (Wah! She forgot to keep the nickname up!). “What normally takes a month?”

Gulp. Alright, pull yourself together Akari. It’s now or never. “I-it normally takes a month in a Mystery Dung-err, distortion, for a ‘mon to go insane enough to attack outsiders on-site.” Can she stop sweating so much please? It was bad enough that she’d already switched to the local parlance for Mystery Dungeons. “T-that’s why Rescue Teams exist, to get ‘mon who get stuck in a dungeon out of there before it’s too late. As it is, Lian...might have some trauma from the matter-”

“Actually, Lian doesn’t remember anything.” Rei covering for her nerves, thank Arce-wait, what did he say? “The last thing he recalls is trying to find some shelter in the Fieldlands to wait for help to arrive. Next thing he knew, he was in Jubilife.” Hang on, what?! “He does seem to be more...capable than we saw him last, too much so for only a week’s worth of practice. But he only agreed with us after we pointed this fact out...”

“Meaning for all he knew, he’d taken a nice, long nap.” Kamado growled as Akari took this new information in. “Well this is just Pecha-y. While it’s good that Lian’s stronger, this means that all our other wardens are likely just as mad as he was!” Paw slammed into table, and Akari had to right herself in mid-air once more. “And if Lord Kleavor is just as frenzied, then the other Nobles will be too!” A loud groan escaped the Commander as he slumped, the poster child of “Angry About Things But Not Knowing What To Do”.

“...erm...s-sir?” All the eyes in the room shot to Akari, who had landed on 2 feet (sorta, but who’s asking?). “I... I think I should mention that I think this...isn’t the Dun-Distortion driving them mad.” A chorus of “What?!”s greeted her statement, and the Dewott took that as permission to continue. “I...I actually think whatever’s creating the distortions could be causing these frenzies...”

“...And that makes a difference how?”

“Ah, well-”

Rei to the rescue again. “From the sound of it, sir, it means that these conditions should be cured by, well, defeating the crazed Warden or Noble in battle.” A gulp. “As...sacrilegious as that sounds, it worked for Lian, so-”

“So there’s no reason it wouldn’t work for the others, right.” A grumble as the earth shifted, the large ‘mon moving a bit. “I suppose it’d be a good idea to go ahead and test that theory with Lord Kleavor. Lian said he was only one or two... floors... below his Lord, right?”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well. You two are to go back to the Fieldlands and recover Lord Kleavor. Lian will accompany you-” Rei opened his mouth to speak, but the Commander beat him to the punch. “-because even if the route is different, he is Lord Kleavor’s Warden. I believe Miss Irelia would agree with me that the recovery of Lord Kleavor is thus part of his duties. However, as she and Sir Adaman are busy looking for any stragglers outside of the Dungeons, I will take command of the situation for the time being.” That...seemed like solid logic, damnit. Hopefully the Sliggoo could move properly, she reeeeeally didn’t want to be the one dragging his heavy shell on a sled this time ‘round. Help or no help.

Well, the sound of steel scraping on wood made those hopes real, the door opening to reveal the Warden in question who began dragging himself into the room. “I...I heard you needed my help with calming Lord Kleavor?”

Kamado blinked, then nodded with a huff as Lian pulled his way next to his two rescuers. “Indeed. I take it you will be joining them?”

“Y-yes, but I’d rather we not set out right yet-”

*WHAM!* And in the air they all went - again (that is a strong fist there, Commander...). “What possible reason could you have to delay? Are the Lords not important to you? Is your Lord not-”

“It’s nothing of the sort! I’d like to prepare some offerings to take with us.” Nicely timed rebuttal, Lian. The Commander shut up to listen. “I-I’d think that having some food for him could prove to be useful in calming him down... at the least, the scent should shake him from the Frenzy briefly.”

Eyes fell on the Sliggoo, silently asking “How do you know?”. To his credit, the Warden didn’t draw into his shell at the gazes (although if you asked Akari, that might be just the blindness).. “B-because...” A deep breath. This...must not be a nice reason. “Because I...I think my hat was the only reason I didn’t go crazy sooner.” And now everyone was leaning in, eyes open wide (and having jumped a bit from Kamado slamming his hands on the desk). “The first few days, I could...I could feel myself starting to slip. At the time, all I knew was that it was instinct, a need to protect myself...a-and fight.” He clenched (through his shell, and Akari was impressed she caught that!), the air in the room growing heavy from implications. “I...I didn’t want to fight. Not when I couldn’t see. And the smells of Warden Ingo and Lord Kleavor on my hat...they gave me something else to think about. At least until...” He trailed off, leaving the known bout of insanity out of his story. They already knew about it, anyways.

The Snorlax leaned back with a *hmph*. “Well, alright. I won’t deny that this feels like a stretch to me, but it’s probably worth a shot. Alright... you have 2 days to make the offerings, then you need to get over there.” A short, sharp nod - spraying goo everywhere - as the Sliggoo made to head off... And turned around right before the door. “Erm, sorry, but I’m gonna need some help, what with the blindness and all... you two mind?”

“Oh, sure!” The Pikachu scampered over towards the shelled ‘mon as Akari thought for a bit. She could spend the time working out tactics to deal with the Dungeon, especially if this Lord was going to be an even harder fight than Lian, but at the same time...

“Alright, count me in.” Good way to build camaraderie in a team, especially since they had no choice but to take the mission together. That, and while she knew Rei somewhat, she had no clue what Lian could do when he was of sound mind (he was a good shot with those Water Guns in the fight, but he was crazy at the time. That never counts). Not to mention, she had no idea who this Kleavor was, outside of some high-ranking official. Wonder why a human official had a “Warden” for a caretaker...wouldn’t “Butler” be a better fit? She had her answer the next day. “Wait, Kleavor is a type of Pokémon?!?”