#because I get to decide what corners are acceptable to cut and what techniques I want to use

[marzipanandminutiae]

I do think one very interesting thing about not getting that stitcher job in the costume workshop is that it highlights the different types of sewing out there

I can sew. I can produce wearable garments. I have and I do and I usually have at least one project on the make at any given time

but

I only sew for myself, so I've never really had comprehensive training in a wide variety of diverse techniques. I know what I need to know to make my own clothing. if a project requires a technique, I learn it; if I never need it, it's not in my skill-set

how did I get to be a 31-year-old accomplished hobbyist dressmaker whose wardrobe is largely self-made, and not know how to do French seams until a week ago? simple. I never needed to know

I also make historical clothing, specifically mid-late Victorian, which was a HUGE proponent of Good Enough as far as construction goes. does it look good? will it hold together for its purpose? is it as comfortable as it's supposed to be? if so, the rest is unimportant. you had a lot of people producing garments with limited machine-sewing functions, who were being paid by the piece and whose clients expected the fastest turnaround possible- corners were going to be cut

speaking of machines...I don't really know what to do with them. I can Make Machine Go Forward and Back and that's really about it. my sewing knowledge is all gleaned from an era where machine-finishing was almost exclusively for underwear, because stitches weren't supposed to show on the outside. and I don't usually make my own shifts, combinations, or petticoats. I also prefer hand-finished buttonholes because doing buttonholes is satisfying and you have greater control over placement. so machine-finishing is largely a closed book to me

being picked out of the crowd on the street like that by the shop manager was exciting and very flattering. but I do think it highlights the fact that, just because someone can produce wearable garments, doesn't mean their skills are transferrable to another sewing arena with different needs

[eclipticasolaris]

So this reminds me of one of my teachers in high school who did something similar. It wasn’t a repetitive thing, but it was nose specific incident.

For context: my school district had this thing called the Academy program. Basically, a series of more specialized and career oriented classrooms with more professional equipment. Pro TV production, Professional Photography, Musical theater, fashion design, music composition, and less common language classes ere a few that I remember being on the list.

One or two of the schools with extra space for these facilities offered the classes in one or two specific time slots, and a handful of students from each school would get on a school bus and ride to that school every day for that specific class slot.

I was in the TV production class, and it became Very apparent Very quickly that the logistics of all the students leaving their schools at the some time led to them arriving at very different times at the academy. So for this two-hour class every day, I’d arrive to m generally the first 10 minutes, since my school was the very next one over, and then sit and eat my lunch while all the other kids filtered in over the next 20 minutes, and the teacher couldn’t really start class until 30 minutes in most days.

The second year I took this class, we had a new instructor, Mr B. He progressed through the first four stages of grief pretty quickly, and by mid-October had landed on acceptance. So we were doing catch ups, showing off examples of video techniques that were covered previously, asking niche questions that weren’t in the curriculum, betting on which of the last two busses would arrive first, or catching up on homework/lunch. This one day, Mr B had his feet up on the desk with all the rest of us(minus the last bus, which was extra-late this time) and since it was the last day before a long weekend, we weren’t in any rush to start the class, and so he decided to single out each and every of the 15-ish of us and describe how he thought each of us would behave during The Purge.

Now there were only two other girls in this class, and because shenanigans with the scheduling, one of them only showed up every other day, it was mostly just myself, and this other girl, whom we’ll call Maddie.

Maddie was…. Well high-strung is not the right word, she was pretty chill, but she startled VERY easily. Having an inflatable T-Rex posed right around the corner at the end of the long narrow corridor we had to walk through to get to the classroom, and having the T-Rex occasionally swapped out with a half-naked mannequin, didn’t help much.

So Mr B goes around starting with the boys, the one special effects whiz was obviously gonna be hacking into government databases, the skater boy was gonna be stealing vehicles and joyriding around, the one who was especially proficient at using the Gimble and the Drone for cool shots would be taking blackmail pictures of people, and then a whole bunch of others on what specific weapons they would be using.

Mr B then turned to Maddie and goes “now Maddie, she’s gonna be totally caught off guard by the sirens, gonna lock her door and hide in the closet, and she’ll be so high-strung that she’ll just karate-chop the first person who startled her right in the throat and cut their head off as a reflex.”

The last bus finally showed up, and he tried to start class, but Maddie, still laughing, went ‘hey, you skipped eclipticasolaris!’

And Mr B goes ‘oh come on y’all, it’s obvious, eclipticasolaris gonna be baking cookies and her front door isn’t even going to be locked she’ll invite you in and offer you some. But beware, if you came in with poor intentions, you’ll get a poisoned cookie.’

[daisiesandshakes]

Hi can I request jealousy headcanon for Isaac,Arthur,Mozart,comte please

Hi dear nonny! Thank you so much for your request 💖

Sorry it took so long, night shifts were exhausting...

Here you go, I hope you like it! 💝

(@ashavazesa , I'm tagging you, maybe you like it!)

Jealousy headcanons

for Isaac, Arthur, Mozart &

le Comte

Isaac

The shy, poor boy doesn't know what hits him, he wasn't prepared... It is the first time he's really in love and it is his first time being jealous.

He wouldn't talk about his feelings in the beginning, because he feels a bit ashamed about them. Additional he's not used to talk about feelings anyway, so he bottles up.

You recognize his strange behavior like avoiding your glare, his abrupt short answers (especially towards the male who causes the jealousy), but at first you can't figure out where it comes from. He would also act more possessive than usual, suddenly kiss you firmly in front of others or pulling you close.

Though he knows you love him truly, he's unsettled deep inside and needs your reassurance. You'll have to push him slightly to open up, to tell you what's on his mind. When he does...oh boy.

With glowing eyes and fervent words he'll beg you to SHOW him your love, pushing you onto the bed. Needy for your touch and your words of love, nothing remains from his shyness. He won't let you go the next hours, making sure you're really his.

"Isaac, please tell me what concerns you... did I something wrong?"

You're sitting next to him in his room on the edge of the bed.

"N- no... It's not that."

His behavior was oddly brusque today and you are really concerned.

With a sigh you overthink what happened all day and then something klicked. You spent a lot of time with Napoleon while he teached the kids. Could it be?  "Isaac, are you jealous?"

The vampire flinches and draws his gaze away from yours, a blush appears on his handsome face.

You cup his face, forcing him to look at you. Gazing deep into his beautiful cherryblossom eyes you ask "Isaac, you know that I love you, that my heart belongs only to you, don't you?"

"Y- yes. My head knows it, but..." suddenly he pushes you down.

"Show it to me." He whispers, his voice husky and deep, his eyes dark with passion before his lips captures yours in a fiery kiss, his fingers ripping your blouse open.

Mozart

Mozart is probably the worst with jealousy (besides Theo). He even can't stand the thought of another male being too close to you. It doesn't matter if it is another resident or a complete stranger, he is very possessive and you only belong to him. No other has the right to touch you.

If someone touches you by accident, his possession drives him to get rid of the foreign scent on you immediatly.

When it's a strange male (talking to him would be enough to drive him crazy), he would be broiling jealous, unable to express himself. Normally Mozart is very straight forward, but not when it comes to express his feelings for you. Blaming you for being too trustful, he would even start an argument.

But Mozart loves you so much, you're so precious to him, he'll regret his harsh spoken words soon and searches for a way to talk.

Admitting his jealousy, he shows you that there is only one way to calm him down. Claiming your body and mind he would train you to who you belong until the sun rises and your voice is hoarse.

"M- Mozart, what-" you gasp as he pulls you behind the thick curtains, sealing your lips with his. "You spent enough time with the other residents." He breathes hard as he pulls away. "Especially with Leonardo. I don't like his cigarello scent on you." Your eyes grow wide. "Wolf, are you jealous?"

A faint rose appears on his cheeks. "I don't want to be...But yes I am."

"But... You don't have to be jealous. I love you so much, Wolf. There is no room in my heart for another man."

"I know, meine Liebe. But it seems that my heart doesn't accept this truth fully." His radiant violet eyes pierces into your soul.

"What can I do to make you feel better, Wolf?"

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he leans forward. "Await me in the thermae. I'll make sure the only scent that remains on your body is mine, and obviously I'll have to remind you the next hours to who you belong." fervent spoken words next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Arthur

He never felt jealousy before. Being a rotten flirt, Arthur is used to be the reason for that emotion, he never thought it could happen to him.

Trying to hide his feelings he'd cover them with playful words and actions. But when a male approaches you and gets too close, he won't think twice to make clear you are HIS girlfriend, holding you at your waist, whisking you away.

Deep inside Arthur has the feeling he doesn't deserve you, so he is afraid to loose you and gets easily jealous. He wouldn't like to admit it to you , worried he could scare you off.

But you are not able to overlook the pout and scowl on his handsome face or to overhear the truth hidden behind his joking words, irrelevant how much he tries to mask his feelings.

Arthur has a deep longing for your reassurance in words and body language, he needs your touch so bad, be prepared for exhausting, delightful hours between the sheets after he got jealous.

You are sitting on the couch in Arthur's room, rambling about your day with Vincent. Lately he gives you advices in painting techniques and you enjoy them, happy to make progress in your hobby. Arthur looks up from the papers with a smile, sitting at his desk.

"Darling, you sound really happy. I know you enjoy painting with Vincent, but are you sure you didn't decide secretly to leave your filthy boyfriend for this pure angel, Luv?" Arthur chuckles. For a split second a hurt expression appears in his loving gaze and his voice didn't sound as lighthearted as it should. You set your cup of coffee down with a surprised look on your face. "Are you jealous?"

A slight rose tints his cheeks as he pulls his gaze away.

You hurry over to him cupping his face and locking eyes. "Arthur, you are the only one for me. You are the love of my life, you know that, don't you?" Your thumbs caress his cheeks.

Arthur's big blue eyes waver at your words and he inhales deeply.

"You have no right to be this adorable" he whispers with a husky voice as he pulls you on his lap. Kissing your lips ardently his fingers already unbutton your blouse. "Say that again, luv" he smiles at your lips. "And then I'll make sure you won't ever forget that you are MY adorable girlfriend" he breathes at your skin as his lips travel from your jaw to the neck.

Le Comte

Comte seems to be always so calm and thoughtful, but when it comes up to you all this is nothing but dust in the wind. He waited for you and your love for centuries, now that you are his he's confronted with the deepest fear of loosing you.

Also he is insecure inside, thinking he doesn't deserve someone so precious like you (are you surprised?). This uncertainty is more fuel to the fire of the jealousy that rages in his heart.

Despite his always graceful and sublime conduct le Comte is very passionate and possessive. He can't bear another man touching you, even it is only your hair. On the other side he wants you to live freely, interacting with the other residents as usual. So he would get jealous real quick, but:

Wearing a mask of gentlemanly behavior and used to lock up his feelings you wouldn't notice his jealousy until it's "too late". Maybe it was only you and Leonardo in the library, sticking heads together and giggling about something. Maybe it was a stranger at the market, picking up an apple for you that dropped to the floor, holding your delicate hand while putting the apple into it.

When he corners you after that in his room, there'll be no escape. Le Comte will make sure that you're his, taking possession of your body and mind until there is nothing left but thinking of him and moaning his name. He will only stop when you pass out due to the overwhelming passion.

Le Comte cocks slightly an eyebrow due to the sight that is presented to him in the library. Arthur stands in front of the bookshelfs, carrying you bridal-style. "What happened?" he asks with honest concern. "Oh, our pretty dove wanted to spread her wings. I catched her as she fell from the ladder" Arthur replies lighthearted. "Luv, if you want my touch so bad, all you have to do is ask. You don't have to risk your health to get it" smirking he looks deep in your eyes. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you hit him at his shoulder. "Put me down, Arthur!" With a wry chuckle he lets you go, giving le Comte an amused sideways glance. "Okay, my performance as a hero is over, back to work then." With these words Arthur leaves the library and you exhale, looking concerned over to the pureblood. "You know that it was only an accident? I feel a bit embarrassed and.." Le Comte cuts you off, smiling gently.

"Ma cherie, don't worry. I understand what happened, everything is fine."

With a relieved smile you pick up the dropped books "I should have known, that something stupid like this doesn't concern you..."

You hear a sharp inhale and look up. His expression is serious, his eyes burn like melting gold in a furnace. Approaching you with slow, predatory steps he asks softly "When did I say I don't care?"

With a fluid move he pins you against the bookshelf, kissing you senseless. You both pant for air as he breaks the kiss. "I await you in my room. Now. Your chores are done for today." Comte leaves you with trembling legs.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it 💝

[imaginativeamateur]

For the event could I request prompt 24 with fem reader and Shikamaru. Maybe an angst to fluff situation.

[Shikamaru Nara X Reader] Ripe

|200 Followers Event|

Prompt: 24 — “You want me to forget everything?”

Pairing: Shikamaru Nara x fem!Reader

Note: This one of my personal favorite prompts UwU. Prepare yourself for some angst and extreme fluff:DD Thank you for requesting, anon, enjoy reading!

Eight months since you left Shikamaru, it was for both of your own goods. The Nara clan needed to get him into an arranged marriage that would benefit his clan, especially since he was their only heir. You understood their reason, accepting the cruel fact, and left the village the night he took you home after your last date. You—a normal civilian—were never his match.

Cutting all ties with the Leaf, you settled in the Flower Island far away from home, hoping that you would never face him until after years, when the two of you would eventually move on. You did not inform him because it was too painful to even think about it, and you wanted Shikamaru to hate you for leaving him like that, it would be better this way. He would be able to forget you and his new wife would love him the way you did.

It had been eight months of pure suffocation. You never thought your life depended so much on his smile, his voice, his warmth—the entirety of his existence. Sometimes, you imagined what it would feel like being in his wedded wife's position, being able to love him as you did. During the cold nights, you hugged yourself tighter and wondered if, for once, you could act upon your heart, not mind. For once, you wanted your selfishness to take over your decision and run back to where your soul belonged. But you did not want to pay the price for your own happiness—Shikamaru’s future.

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. By the time your scar was healing itself, you ran into the man you spent nights reminiscing and tears mourning, tearing the wound open once more. It happened by accident when you were out running errands and bumped into his team on a mission.

You immediately gathered your groceries that fell onto the ground when you crashed into Ino, lowering your head so that your cascading hair curtained your face, relieved that you decided to change your hairstyle just in case something happened. You mumbled a quiet sorry and sprinted in the other direction but soon, your feet were paralyzed. The Shadow Imitation Technique that you were utterly familiar with.

Gulping, you straightened your back as you sensed the three of them approaching from behind. You had to deny your identity at all costs. Choji was the first one the question, having decent composure out of all, “Sorry, miss, you look familiar. Do we perhaps, know each other?”

Your face was still parallel to the ground as you shook your head fast, too fast, “You must’ve mistaken me with someone. I don’t know—”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

Shikamaru’s voice was lightning to your ears and you quivered. You clawed your nails into your palms and bit your lips hard it almost drew blood, your tongue felt bitter as you spoke, “I’m not the one you’re finding. I swear I don't know who you are talking about.”

“Ino, Choji,” he turned to his teammates, “please give us some space.”

The other two nodded and left you with Shikamaru as they went off into a nearby restaurant.

“Tell me, Y/N. Why did you leave?” He took you by the arm and dragged you to a secluded corner.

“I told you I’m not the Y/N that you’re… finding…,” you snarled but got quieter when you finally looked into his eyes—anger and agony present in those darkened orbs. You just wanted to wrap your arms around him and bury your head in his bosom. You just wanted to assuage the sorrow in his eyes and return to the time when you were still together. But everything was, perhaps, too late.

“Why did you leave?” He demanded, “Why did you leave without telling us, without telling me?”

“We’re not meant to be, I’m sorry. I’m not a good match for you. You deserve someone better.” After a long pause, you choked out, word by word, “Please let go of me. You should go back to your—”

“You want me to forget everything?” His voice was sour and shattered, cracking bit by bit.

“We should move on,” you mumbled and tears welled up in your eyes. “You have your family to take care of and… I have mine, too.”

“Stop lying.”

“I’m not, please leave me—”

Shikamaru's lips found their way to yours, hungrily pressing a kiss onto your trembling ones and your eyes shot open. His sense engulfed you in a dangerously mesmerizing way that bordered pain. It was aggressive and sinful, but you did not want him to stop. Memories flushing through your mind when you felt his hands sliding to the small of your back, supporting your weight. Tears trickled down your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around his torso, reliving the feeling of his frame under your palms. For once, you let your heart overpowered your mind and kissed him back passionately, gushing out all of your abated longing and starvation for his touch. He held you close, locking your body in his arms even when he pulled away, “I can’t live without you.”

“You’re married, Shikamaru.” You pushed yourself from him and fixed your attire with shaking hands at the sudden realization, "We shouldn't be doing this."

“Who told you I’m married?” He raised his brows.

You looked up at him with inquiring eyes and he chuckled, “There’s no more arranged marriage. Shikamaru Nara will only take Y/N Y/L/N as his bride. So please, come back to me, will you?”

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @animepickle7 @iam-gaaras-loveintrest

[sparks-joy-imagines]

Hi! Could I request some hcs or a one shot (whichever you prefer!) where Gojo finds out reader has never orgasmed with a partner before because her previous partners were kind of asses. Thank you either way! Have a lovely day! :)

hello love~ I figured I might as well turn this into a one shot because there had been just so~ many ideas floating around my head for this (including a few Japan traumata lol) - I hope you're ready to buckle up cause this one comes in at 5k appr. enjoy -mesu. PS: A very special thanks to niob for beta-ing this monster and talking me through it!!!❤

Gojō Satoru x f!reader warnings: vaginal penetration, oral sex (receiving), Gojō being a smug arse

You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.

The first time you had met Gojo it had been your first year teaching at Kyoto jujutsu high and your first impression had been that no single living being could withstand his gaze of scrutiny. Given, as the wielder of both infinity and the six eyes there wasn’t anyone on his level to begin with, but did he really have to be an arse about it? Who even hired him as a teacher – a person supposed to be of pedagogic value – in the first place?

Luckily, you didn’t have to see him all that often, usually just whenever the time of year came around for the good-will event with the sister school in Tokyo but he had picked up an unhealthy interest in your person and relentlessly teased you for whatever you did and didn’t do alike.

Utahime had once suggested that it was Gojo’s twisted way of flirting with you and you couldn’t help but scoff and reply that you had seen Gojo flirting. And it was nothing alike how he was acting towards you. Afterwards, Utahime had taken pity on you and acted as an intermittence between you and Gojo so he wouldn’t get under your skin anymore, albeit he mostly ended up getting under hers instead.

At least, that was until tonight. With the students being sound asleep in bed, everyone involved in the event unanimously had decided to head for a drink at a fancy bar in Ginza to celebrate the event ending more or less successfully despite the unforeseen interference of some higher ranked curses and you ended up sitting sandwiched between Utahime and Shoko who both had insisted on a girl’s table away from curious colleagues and ears, while the other staff were seated at a slightly larger table just out of earshot.

The back of your head hit your nape when you downed what felt like the 7th shot of nihonshu. The alcohol prior to the shots had already infiltrated your system, leaving your senses foggy and your tongue loose. You weren’t about to spill your secrets just yet, but it was definitely getting harder to suppress the glances you’d love to gift Gojo who seemed entirely unfazed by any of the liquor he had consumed this evening.

That prick has to use his innate techniques to cope with the alcohol!

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at the tall man across the table who hadn’t even bothered to take his blindfold off while sporting a vaguely amused if aloof expression while the headmaster of Kyoto high and Tokyo high appeared to be in a heated discussion. Speaking of rude.

Lost in your thought of how much you longed to wipe that smirk off of Gojo’s face, you didn’t follow the topic of conversation of your friends at the table who definitely had one nihonshu too many.

“I’m telling you, anatomically speaking, it’s just unfair. It’s so much easier for men to achieve an orgasm, alright? It’s as if nature was against us women,” Shoko sighed dramatically, taking the nihonshu bottle to refill the shot glasses only to find it empty. Another, this time desperate, sigh followed.

“What’s even worse is that men usually don’t care about their partner's pleasure at allll,” Utahime responded with a distinct lull in her voice while she was already close to resting her cheek on the table. She’s definitely had enough but that didn’t stop her from going on, “Ever since I started dating, there’s been what? Maybe two decent enough guys that actually cared if I came too or not.”

“Sounds about right,” Shoko agreed, apparently trying to find some universal truth in the emptiness of the bottle she was still holding onto.

You shot a glance to the two unhappy women at your side, deciding that it was time to share your two cents of truth under your breath, “At least you’ve had partners before who took care of your needs, too. I for once have only been with arseholes who could care less if I came or not. And so I never did… so…consider yourselves lucky? I guess.”

As expected, your volume made it impossible for them to catch what you were revealing and Utahime unbeknownst interrupted the aftermath to your soft confession by suddenly straightening her posture in a surge of drunken energy, grabbing one of your and Shoko’s hands respectively to declare something about not letting this circumstance prevent anyone from having a great night.

You could’ve sworn the corner of Gojo’s mouth perked up the second you shot him another glance…

A few drinks, a second bar, and a couple hours later.

Your head was spinning slightly and you leaned your back against the wall of the establishment you’d just stepped out of. Damn your senpai for making you drink. You soaked in the wet, clean night air which could only be achieved during the rainy season in Tokyo.

The moment you pressed your eyes shut you could hear Utahime demanding to move onto a karaoke bar and continue this until morning. Of fucking course, you thought to yourself and opened your eyes, desperate for any excuse to skip what was about to come.

Among general consensus with a few nods and exclamations here and there, you slowly noticed how Gojo was watching you intently. By now he had actually gotten rid of his blindfold and was sporting his dark shades, his soft hair was framing his angular face, slightly damp by the drizzle and you would have gladly punched him for the way the street lights and shop signs reflected in his hair.

Still, right now you had other things to worry about and so you took a deep breath and spoke up, “Thanks for this evening but I’ll have to take my leave now. It’s already late and I don’t think my voice can handle singing right now.” An obvious lie as your voice was just fine, but it’d do the trick of getting you out of corporate pressure.

And that’s exactly what happened. Your excuse was accepted at face value and you were wished a good night’s rest. Umbrellas were opened and the group made of two faculties strolled towards the closet illuminated Karaoke sign.

You waited until everyone was on the move, so you could gather yourself in your time without any scrutinising eyes on you.

“Leaving an intoxicated damsel to her own devices? How could I be the strongest without taking care of her? Allow me to lead you home, (Y/N)~”

Just when you thought you had lived through the worst, Gojo’s voice piped up right next to your ear. You hadn’t seen him stay behind and now he was close, dangerously so, and he didn’t even care to hide the glee in his voice.

You managed to turn your head in his direction and gift him – what was in your imagination – a nasty stare. For Gojo, it rather seemed like you were trying your best to fixate your dizzy gaze on him.

He sighed and for once dropped his excruciating façade, speaking in a normal tone, “Seriously tough, (Y/N), I’d rather lead you home. Tokyo’s far from being safe at night.”

Seeing and actually hearing Gojo apparently genuinely concerned made you weigh your chances enough that you finally sighed in defeat, “Fine. But only up to the doorstep.”

Gojo blinked at you repeatedly, appearing almost insulted that you dared to think him a man who would take advantage of women like that – truth being that he was more insulted that you thought that he was actually in need of such tricks – and made an off-hand remark of how he could never.

You waved your hand dismissively and slowly tried to straighten your posture, “You’re here by car, right? That’s why you used your innate technique to not get drunk. Wish I could’ve done the same, wouldn’t be dying of spinning world syndrome right now.”

That stopped Gojo’s rant about his hurt pride. A sheepish smirk appeared on his lips and he stated flatly, “You noticed.”

You nodded, which turned out to have been a terrible idea. Nausea overcame you and you tried to curl into a ball, but Gojo was next to you in a second, smoothly wrapping his long arm around your waist while his free hand reached for your hand, easily securing your stance like that.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?”

You nodded and simply concentrated on not getting sick while he led you towards the parking lot where his car was parked. He left you shortly to pay for the ticket and you leaned against one of the nearby vending machines, concentrating on your breathing.

A few moments later the relatively quiet night was disturbed by the low roar of what turned out to be a pricey sports car. It didn’t take long for Gojo to stop said car right in front of you. Ever the gentleman he stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the passenger’s side for you, offering his hand to you for assistance. The entire picture which enfolded in front of you seemed to be taken out of a romance.

Only when you wobbled over to the car and felt the infinity between your hand and Gojo’s you snapped back to reality, pursing your lips as you stated, “You never let anyone actually touch you, do you?”

“If someone’s worth my while, sure I do,” Gojo replied with a sly smile, but something in his eyes appeared resigned, almost lost. But maybe that was just your imagination? Almost promising.

You didn’t even have time to follow-up on his statement as he simply shut the door in your face, cutting any further discussion short. Soon, Gojo settled in the driver’s seat and drove off towards your hotel. You didn’t even question how he knew where he needed to go.

Silence fell upon you and you simply turned your gaze to the flashing street lights, allowing you to marvel at Tokyo’s nocturnal atmosphere for a while. This was so much better than making your way through the confusing public transport in time for the last train. You shot Gojo another gaze and were surprised to find him diligently keeping his eyes on the road.

At once you wondered if you unwittingly had been keeping him from joining the others at karaoke. Singing one’s soul out and getting undressed in the process seemed right up Gojo’s alley.

“…Thank you for taking me back to the hotel. I appreciate it. You… didn’t really have to do this though, I’m sure you wanted to attend karaoke with the others,” you started off your half-apology.

A soft yet deep chuckle escaped Gojo’s throat.

“Oh sure I did, hun. There’s been something on my mind concerning you which is just soooo much more fun than karaoke could ever be after all,” Gojo casually replied, eyes never straying from the road.

You frowned and cocked your head in an inquisitive manner.

“Don’t act confused now, love,” Gojo smirked as he pulled over and parked the car right next to the entrance of the hotel. He unfastened his seatbelt to turn to you completely and casually rested his elbow against his seat, “Now, why don’t you tell me about never having orgasmed with a partner before?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as Gojo watched you curiously while you didn’t believe the meaning behind what your ears had picked up on.

“I…,” you spilled quickly, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This had to be a nightmare. How did he know of that? You never told a soul, too embarrassed by your unfortunate choice of past sexual partners, and now Gojo Satoru – out of all possible people – knew of your secret?!

The panic must have shown on your face as Gojo’s smug expression softened slightly and he leaned closer to you, only stopping when the tip of his nose almost collided with yours, “You should take more care who might be listening in when you’re talking to yourself, (Y/N).”

You nodded once and leaned back, avoiding Gojo’s touch and gaze as best you could, “T-thanks for the ride.” Even if his revelation had thrown you off entirely, you tried your best to hide it.

“My pleasure. I’ll have to insist on taking you to your room though.” Gojo’s tone was unforgiving and made it very clear that you wouldn’t get out of him walking you all the way.

You sighed deeply and submitted to your fate, sinking into your seat until he had rounded the car and opened the passenger’s door so you could accept his hand to disembark in a semi-elegant manner.

Once you had found your balance he let go of your hand, matching your pace as you walked towards your room, acting as if he hadn’t just nonchalantly invaded your privacy. You shot him several glances but Gojo acted very interested in the interior of the hotel. You didn’t buy it though. Obviously he was just relishing in the fact that he got under your skin.

So he didn’t want to push any further? Fine by you. You huffed softly and pushed the button for your floor once you boarded the lift, Gojo strolling on your heels, hands shoved into the pocket of his trousers.

You refrained from looking at anything close to Gojo’s direction, albeit you could feel his piercing gaze on you. You used the time of the short ride to get your room card out of your purse and as soon as the automatic doors opened, you darted out of the lift and unlocked the door to your room with a soft beep.

Barely having shuffled inside you got rid of your purse and turned around to thank Gojo once again, finding him right on your doorstep.

“Thanks, Gojo, I appreciate what you did tonight,” you smiled awkwardly at the close proximity and mustered the courage to look into his eyes, just to be surprised by their intensity.

“Of course,” Gojo hummed, resting his left arm on the doorframe he leaned closer, stopping right before crossing the threshold with his movements. He easily kept your eyes locked in his, making you all but forget about bringing some distance between you.

“Before I leave… y’know I could help you out with your little problem, (Y/N). If you’re up for it, that is.”

Gojo’s voice was low, eyes dark, pupils dilated with a certain hunger as they stared right into your soul.

When his words registered a soft gasp unwittingly left your lips as your eyes grew wide.

Just what was happening? Had Utahime been right all along?

The next moment Gojo was leaning down to you, making all but sure that your senses shut down to a bare minimum. Standing there frozen in place, time seemed to slow down around you as your eyes flickered from Gojo’s luscious lips to his cyan eyes and back to his lips again.

Was this really happening right now?

Your heart pounded against your chest harshly and you pressed your eyes shut to calm your nerves. That is when you felt his soft lips against the skin of your cheek, undoubtedly skin on skin. He‘d really turned his infinity off!

“As I have told you prior, I don’t take advantage of intoxicated women. But as I understand it, you still have a couple hours before your bullet train back to Kyoto tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you, (Y/N). You won’t regret it. . .~”

You held your breath and nothing. When you finally opened your eyes again Gojo was gone. Simply vanished! He had done exactly what he had promised to do. Taken you home, up to your doorstep and not a millimetre further.

Did this mean that he was going to keep what he offered if you turned up at his doorstep tomorrow? Up until now Gojo had never given you any reason to doubt him. Sure, he was a prick, but he was honest about being a prick. At least that was more than could be said about any of your former affiliations.

It took a couple more moments before you managed to close the door and turn in to a sleepless night contemplating if you might as well take Gojo up on his offer.

The next day. After some empty excuses to Utahime of why you couldn’t spend the last hours in Tokyo together. In front of Gojo’s apartment.

You stared at the kanji at the apartment, contemplating if you should really proceed now. It had been a pain to get Gojo’s address, dodging several inquisitive questions of Utahime, but now that you were finally here you weren’t sure if you should be anymore.

Given Gojo had lived up to every single thing he had proclaimed so far, plus he never had given you any reason not to trust him. Still, did being here meant that you were willing to compromise your integrity for something as trivial as good sex? More so than the actual act, you were afraid of what it might mean for your future relationship with Gojo; which would be anything but professional hereafter.

Before you could spiral further into second guessing yourself, the apartment door in front of you opened smoothly, offering the view to a slightly dishevelled looking Gojo apparently just out of the shower.

The moment you locked eyes with his bare ocean orbs, a smug grin emerged on his face, “Fancy seeing you here, (Y/N). Come in.”

You mumbled a greeting and stepped into his modern apartment, quickly getting rid of your shoes and outer layers while Gojo walked further back into the flat calling out to you, “Can I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Pineapple juice?~”

You rolled your eyes, very convinced that you just shouldn’t have come here. You followed Gojo’s voice into a broad living room with an open kitchen. The colours and décor were kept simple, black and white, sometimes a splash of colour in the colour of his goddamn eyes.

After having accessed the surroundings to your heart’s content you turned to Gojo, “Do you happen to have pineapple juice – notoriously known for apparently for making the taste of oral sex sweeter – at hand for your guests at all times? Or did you go shopping for me yesterday?”

A soft chuckle, “I happen to like the flavour. Plus, I am quite certain your juices aren’t in need of any enhancement.” A wink followed. What a bastard.

Ignoring the faint blush that emerged on your cheeks, you countered, “And what exactly makes you so sure about that, mh?”

Gojo shortly nibbled on his full lips as he sized you up with hungry eyes. Then, he slowly rounded the kitchen counter until he stood right in front of you. The smell of his surprisingly fruity after-shave intoxicated your senses.

“Wanna find out?”

You managed a nod and Gojo smirked wider, simply lifting you up on the counter so you were closer to eye level with him.

And then he finally let his soft luscious lips collide with yours, involving you in a breathless, inifity-less kiss while your arms wrapped around his neck on their own accord. Gojo smirked against your lips pulling you closer to himself, gladly taking the opportunity to feel up through the fabric of the blouse you were wearing for travel.

How you cursed the school’s clothing protocol at that moment!

Frowning slightly you broke the kiss, quickly trying to get rid of your blouse with your hands, but Gojo had other plans, catching your hands in his he leaned closer and purred on your lips, “Ah-ah (Y/N), there’s still plenty of time till your bullet train. No need to rush~ This is more than a mere quicky to shoot one’s load and carry on, after all. I need you to relax and enjoy the ride.”

You weren’t quite sure what did the trick. The proximity to him or his genuine tone, but you visibly relaxed and started shamelessly feeling Gojo up in return. You weren’t surprised to find defined abs when you pushed the fabric of his shirt out of the way and followed their lines for a bit before you moved on to explore his back.

“Good girl,” Gojo chuckled in your ear and let out a teasing gasp in response to your initiative before he went to nibble on your earlobe, making you cross your legs behind his hips as a soft whimper escaped your lips.

“Sensitive, are we?”

Gojo moved back, capturing your lips in another kiss, this time parting yours with his cheeky tongue so he could explore your mouth to his heart’s content. You happily complied and concentrated on his tongue enough that you didn’t notice how he skilfully unbuttoned your blouse.

Your legs tightened around Gojo’s hips and you moaned when you felt his growing bulge through the fabric. Gojo took this opportunity to kiss down your neck only to ravish it mercilessly while his hands had taken a liking to your boobs, kneading them through your lacey bra.

“Hah~” More and more lewd noises filled the heated air as Gojo pinched your hardened nipples just the right amount to send shivers down your spine and you were glad that you didn’t have to depend on your trembling legs anymore.

Desperate for support you scratched blindly over Gojo’s upper arms which led him to gift you a wolfish smile as he pulled back enough to strip off your blouse and a swift motion later your bra followed.

Pouting slightly you picked on his shirt, making Gojo scoff and get rid of it, too. You sighed content about the equal stages of undress and wiggled slightly on top of the counter, enjoying the friction this provided against both the fabric of your pants and Gojo’s bulge.

“You little minx,” Gojo growled lowly, suddenly pinning you down to the counter by your neck. The cold surface sent a shiver through the entirety of your body. He adjusted his grip to be more gentle, yet still determined enough to hold you in place, actively preventing you from escaping from his touch. You would welcome the sweet torture that was to follow deliberately and Gojo was very aware of that.

Soon enough Gojo began his agonisingly slow treatment of your torso, mouthing his way from your collar bones to your chest where he spent his sweet time circling each nipple with his tongue.

You didn’t know what exactly he was doing with his shameless long tongue but you had never felt your body rise to the touch on its own quite like that and it took a minute to recognise it was your own voice which echoed through the apartment so obscenely.

Desperate for more stimulation which Gojo still withheld from you, you tried to pull him closer with your crossed legs, earning a suppressed moan from him as his erect member brushed against your clothed sex. How much you would’ve given for those layers to finally be gone.

“You really haven’t been getting laid properly at all, huh.”

Completely unnerved by now you groaned and shot Gojo an acid glare, but the elite sorcerer just chuckled to himself as he straightened back up, sizing you up in the process once again. You had never seen his eyes this dark.

In a split second his hands were undoing your pants as if they had never done anything else in his life and a few moments later you were sitting on the counter completely undressed.

When you blinked away your surprise, Gojo brushed another deep kiss on your lips, humming on them, “I’d hold onto something if I were you~”

And then he dove down to your core, hands holding your hips in place well aware that you wouldn’t be able to hold still.

As soon as his lips connected to your nether folds, a lightning impulse flashed through your body and your loudest moan yet left your lips. Your head flew back by itself and you wreathed as best you could on the counter top for either more or less friction, you weren’t quite sure.

All the while Gojo relentlessly continued his pursuit of your sex, tongue swirling expertly over and around your clit, building up a certain intensity before he moved down slightly to lick and mouth at your entrance.

You desperately held onto the edge of the counter for support, spilling his name over and over again, while Gojo cheekily thrust his tongue into you for a taste before he redirected his attention to your clit again.

The coil in your core seemed to harden and become undone at the same time and another flick of Gojo’s tongue made you scream as you jerked up as you finally hit your high. Juices spilled out of your cunt and you buried your flushed face in your hands while your entire body was convulsing in ecstasy.

Gojo made sure to keep his grip on you so you wouldn’t slide down from the counter, licking his soiled lips. Once he was sure that your breathing calmed down a bit he gently stroked away a couple of stray strands of hair and smirked, “Told ya you weren’t in the need of any enhancement, babe. You’re to die for~”

Still concentrating on your oxygen intake you were feeling rather overwhelmed with everything that had played out just now. It took a bit of bargaining with yourself to search for Gojo’s gaze again, but when your eyes met you immediately noticed the mixture of hunger and smug complacency in his. He had gotten you good, but you decided you weren’t going to leave before payback.

And so you cocked your brow up and smirked, “I admit you lived up to your word, Gojo. Mind if we take round two to the bedroom?”

A grin.

“Not at all, princess,” Gojo replied and picked you up bridal style to carry you off into his chamber.

Gojo’s bedroom was dark. Both furniture and bedding were either held in a dark grey or black and the shades were lowered. When Gojo let you down on the bed you took a look around and tended your head slightly at the unexpected interior.

You were torn out of your thoughts when you heard Gojo unbuckle his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper and turned back to see him in his whole glory.

His member was definitely on the larger side, but you were happy to see it came short of what you knew would be painful to insert. It had a nice girth and was slightly tended to the right, the tip glistening with pre-cum meant for your prior endeavors. You licked your lips unconsciously, eager to feel it in you.

“Marveled at my dick enough, have we? ” Gojo smirked knowingly and reached for a condom which just happened to lie on top of his nightstand.

You nodded slightly and watched him routinely put it on, before you pulled him on top of the bed and ravished his mouth with yours. He had deserved your undivided attention after making true of his promise and you were way past the stage of having any second thoughts.

Gojo curled his lips against yours, easily positioning himself on top of you while his hands were suddenly all over your body. It seemed like he wanted to leave his touch on every inch of your being and honestly? At this very moment you didn’t mind if he did.

The energy between the two of you grew hotter by the minute and you gasped for breath when he readjusted your hips so his member was prodding against your entrance.

“Last chance, (Y/N)…hng~”

The strain in his voice did it for you and you brushed a fleeting kiss on his cheek on your way to his ear, “Take me already, Satoru!”

A deep groan reverberated in Gojo’s upper body at the mention of his first name and he penetrated you in a swift, smooth motion, making both of you moan with pleasure.

He gave you a moment before he moved, offering the opportunity to get used to his considerable size before he started moving at a cheeky pace. Something had just clicked between the two of you and you moved against him as if you had never done anything else in your life. It felt liberating. It felt right. . .

A couple many minutes and exchanges of ecstasy later.

You were laying sprawled half-way over Gojo while he lazily played with your slightly damp hair. After your last round he had suggested a shower since you technically still had a train to catch and you thought it a good idea.

If you hadn’t stopped him, you would’ve also stained his bathroom with his name. Who would’ve thought that his infinite also applied to sexual stamina? But then again, it was Gojo who you were talking about.

You weren’t quite sure how this session was going to change your relationship with Gojo in the future, but you definitely didn’t regret going through with it.

You shuffled slightly on the bed and stretched slightly, “Mh, what’s the time?”

“Hn, ten past two,” Gojo replied with a raspy, yet slightly amused voice.

Ten past two. Ten past two. The bullet train back to Kyoto you were supposed to board was leaving at half past two!

You jumped out of the bed, hurriedly reaching for your clothes.

“FUCK!”

“Any time, (Y/N)”

You shot Gojo another glare, painfully aware that he had to have known.

Gojo only gifted you a wink and grinned, “If you are going to be as nice to me as you were just now the next time we meet, I might be willing to help you out, (Y/N)~”

You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.,

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Three- Picnics

If you want to read it on ao3 (now as one singular fic because I am a dum dum) you can do that here

When Hero suggested that the five of them get together and have a picnic, Basil was nervous, but excited. There was a part of him that would always be afraid, but more than anything he wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. A picnic could be the start of that.

But Basil should have known that things could never go back to the way they used to be.

“Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing.

And a ridiculous thing, too.”- Kate DiCamillo

Basil wasn’t really sure what to expect when their group decided to get together for a picnic again like they used to, but his first inclination wouldn’t have been that there would be a fist fight about to break out.

After the fight, and the hospital, and everything that came after, things had gotten surprisingly calm and quiet. The guilt that had eaten his insides for all those years was gone, and in its place was peace. Yes, he still felt awful about what they had done, but the secret was over, and he no longer had to hold all of that pain by himself.

Their friends had accepted the truth at varied rates, and Basil was sure it would take a long time before they ever even came close to forgiving him or Sunny. Aubrey was still quick to anger, Hero was still avoidant of the pain, but things had changed. Something about those last few days Sunny had spent with them in Faraway had changed them all, made everyone more open to trying with each other again. Even after they learned everything.

It felt good to be friends again, to be able to look at their faces without the self loathing threatening to crush him. He would take whatever halted measures of friendship they would give, if it only meant not being alone again. So when Hero suggested a picnic, Basil eagerly agreed without thinking twice.

He should have thought twice.

The planning had gone perfectly fine. Kel was a hundred percent on board, and he had even offered to help with making the food. The other boy seemed most pleased that it was Hero specifically who was extending the branch out. Basil knew that, of all of them, Hero was probably going to have the most mixed emotions about what he and Sunny had done. Still, Hero was Hero. Even if he hated them both, he would never reveal it.

Aubrey had seemed unsure, but Kel’s enthusiasm and the promise of getting Sunny back to join them had her agreeing. Basil knew she and Sunny talked on the phone pretty often, maybe even more than Sunny and himself. Aubrey was trying hard to make up for the last four years, and she spent most of her time with Basil or by herself. She said it was to ‘figure things out’ and he didn’t pry. He knew how hard it was to accept things in your past that you didn’t want to think about or the parts of yourself that you didn’t like all that much.

Then there was Sunny. They had all crowded together around Kel’s home phone to talk to Sunny about their idea. He had agreed to come and made plans to sleep at Kel and Hero’s house the night of their picnic. Logically it would have made more sense for him to stay with Basil, there was more room at Basil’s house, but it went unspoken between them why Kel and Hero had extended the offer instead. He would catch the train in and out and be back by dinner the next day, it wasn’t a far journey. None of them had seen Sunny since the hospital, at least not in person, and Basil wondered what it might be like to lay eyes on the other boy now.

The day came and they had split into natural groups. Most of the preparations were already done, but there were a few things to finish up on the morning of. Hero would take care of finishing the food, Aubrey would set up in their spot in the park, and Basil and Kel were going to go pick up Sunny from the train station.

Everything was good. The day was bright and warm with not a single cloud in the sky, Sunny’s train had arrived right on time, and Sunny had even greeted them both with quick but tight hugs and a small smile. He was still wearing an eyepatch (and apparently would always be from now on) but he looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the greying pallor of his skin had vanished. He held himself a little straighter, spoke a little more, and the air of fear that seemed to surround Sunny had dissipated into nothing.

Kel had grabbed both of their hands and swung them through the air as they walked towards the park, chattering about what he and Hero had planned for that day. Basil was content to let Kel do most of the talking and shared a secret amused look behind his back with Sunny. This was something that had happened all the time when they were kids, and the nostalgia of it was easy to fall into.

When they got to the park and saw Aubrey, things were awkward for all of two seconds before she punched Sunny gently on the arm and ruffled his hair, bringing them over to the set up she had created. The picnic blanket was a checkered blue, not red, but it was soft. There was the scent of flowers in the air from the bushes nearby in bloom, and a breeze twirled the pinwheels clustered in the distance. It felt so blissfully...normal. Like they could just fall right back into step where they left off all those years ago.

Basil should have hit himself over the head for thinking that.

It started so innocently. They were waiting for Hero to arrive and sighing about how nice their little corner of the world was, when Aubrey made an offhand comment about her friends potentially joining them next time. Before Basil could even really process what her words, Kel had said no. He hadn’t said it in a joking way or to tease her. Kel had snapped, and the tension in his shoulder and the hardness of his eyes told them all that he was deadly serious.

It was jarring. Of all of them, Kel had always been the friendliest. Hero may have been the most popular, but Kel wasn’t far behind his brother in natural charm. He was sweet and sincere, and almost always willing to get to know people. It wasn’t like him to shut down so quickly or with such force. Kel’s face was stormy and he was avoiding eye contact with all of them, keeping those hard eyes locked with the ground. Aubrey seemed livid, but she sat stony and silent, waiting for more of an explanation. The one that came only made things worse.

“I just don’t see why you would even wanna be around them anymore,”

Aubrey, loyal beyond words, had swooped in to defend the rest of her gang, claiming that they were good people who were great friends. This had only made Kel scoff, which infuriated her even more. Basil was used to Aubrey and Kel getting into arguments, he was even okay with the escalated fight that had happened at the dock (seeing as he blamed himself for causing it), but this was unlike any of those.

Normally it was Kel who kept fairly cool during these things, and Aubrey that went ballistic. Yes, Kel fought right back with her and gave as good as he got, but he had always seemed calm and collected, mostly joking around and poking fun at how red Aubrey’s face would get.

Now it was his cheeks that were tinged, and his throat that was raw from screaming, in a way that Basil had never seen before. He stayed silent and tried to keep himself small, hands clasping together over his chest as he tried to remember the deep breathing techniques Polly had been teaching him. They didn’t seem to be working. A quick glance to the side showed Sunny in a similar state of distress, watching their friends argue with a wide eye and clear panic etched into his features.

Aubrey and Kel’s argument devolved fast, going from something that held worth to just being insults hurled back and forth. They began to advance on each other, clearly done with words and moving past to blows, but a voice cut through, breaking the intensity that had caught them all firmly in its grip.

“What’s going on?”

The four of them turned around simultaneously, varying stages of guilt evident on everyone’s faces. Hero emerged from the brush, carrying a large wooden picnic basket on one arm, his mouth turned downwards.

He surveyed the moment and sighed, a tired sound that betrayed a weight that they all knew Hero carried but refused to let them bear with him. The eldest walked over and gently placed the basket down on the blanket, glancing at each of them in turn.

“You okay, Sunny?” Hero asked, and Sunny nodded. He seemed calmer now that someone was intervening, but fear was still there. Hero patted him once on the top of his head and peered around the youngest. “Basil?”

Basil nodded too, his own words caught in his throat. It wasn’t the same as when Something had been squeezing him too tight to breathe, it wasn’t that bad yet, but it was still pretty bad. Nothing he couldn’t handle though, and Basil knew that Hero needed to be focusing on the other two right now. With both of them checked on, Hero stood at his full height and stared at the others.

“Explain,”

Both teens burst into words, voices raising as they tried to shout over each other and interject to disprove what the other had just claimed. Hero listened to the cacophony for a moment and then raised his hands, yelling over them to quiet down. Once it was settled again, Hero turned to Aubrey.

“Aubrey, you go first. You can talk with no interruptions. Then Kel is going to talk with no interruptions, and we’re all going to listen to each other. I want each of you to explain to me why you’re fighting, okay?” Both teens nodded, and Hero sat down, gesturing for the other two to sit back down as well. They did, and then Aubrey began to talk.

“Out of nowhere Kel starts going off about my friends and talking bad about them for no reason,” Kel made a noise here and Hero looked at him. The younger brother rolled his eyes but stayed silent, and Hero waved a hand at Aubrey to continue, “I don’t get why he’s so angry, but I don’t care. He had no right to say all of those things. That’s why they don’t like you, you just assume the worst of them.”

Kel shot a harsh glare towards the girl, something fiery and fueled with a deep rage that was completely out of character for him. Then when he spoke, the oddities only continued.

“I didn’t start ‘out of nowhere’. You started this by saying you wanted us all to hang out with them. Like we’re all pals. Did you forget that the only thing you did when you spent time with them was bully people and act like none of us mattered to you? You keep talking about how you wanna change, but you don’t. You just want to act like nothing you did mattered. They bullied m- Basil for years! If you’re really our- his friend I don’t know why you don’t want to protect Basil from those guys,” Kel finished his speech with a huff, crossing his arms and curling in on himself.

“I apologized to Basil plenty already!” Aubrey replied, a glance to Hero when she began. When he didn’t interrupt her, she kept going, “He forgave me, and now we’re trying to get past it. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maybe we should listen to what Basil thinks?” Hero suggested, trying to keep the conversation from riding off the rails as it had before, “If you’re both so worried about him, it seems like his opinion would be the most important thing here,”

Then all eyes were on him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Basil twisted his fingers in his lap and laughed nervously, his mouth filling with cotton as both sides of the argument clearly looked for his backing.

“I-I don’t know?” He finally replied, the words sounding small and useless, only making everyone madder, “I wouldn’t mind trying I guess. Seeing if if it works out, ya know?”

Hero perked up here, shooting Basil a grateful smile. Aubrey seemed vindicated and her anger began to melt. The tension eased out of the air, and Basil breathed out. It was all going to be okay now. It was just a regular Kel and Aubrey fight. They would hug the way Hero always forced them to at the end of their arguments, and then the five of them could enjoy the afternoon together.

“Kel, if Basil is okay with it then it’s fine. Why don’t you two hug and make up and then-”

“What if I’m not okay with it, Hero?!” Kel exploded, cutting his brother off, “What about that?!”

Stunned silence coupled with an even stronger tension surrounding the group. Kel and Aubrey fighting he could understand, even Kel and Aubrey dragging Hero in to play referee he could understand, but never before had Basil seen Kel yell at Hero. Kel worshipped the ground Hero walked on, his big brother could do no wrong, and Basil had never seen any evidence that he ever had.

But Kel wasn’t done yet, and he continued his yelling. It was like something had cut into him with those words, and now that something, dark and black, was finally getting a chance to leak out of Kel. Basil knew all about Somethings. About how painful it was to live with them, about how they always eventually burst out and demanded to be seen. He just had never thought Kel might have a Something too.

“It isn’t fair that they get to spend years being terrible people. and then just act like they never did any of it. It isn’t fair that I have to just pretend like they weren’t awful to me. Like I didn’t spend most afternoons crying on my walk home because of them. Like I didn’t have to second guess everything single thing I did because they made me think that I was a bully.”

Basil had remembered hearing them calling Kel that before, and it had confused him then too. Kel had never done anything like bullying to anyone, but Basil had dismissed it. It seemed so ridiculous to him, he thought Kel would have just let it go too. Apparently not

“All I’ve ever done is try to help. I smiled and laughed and pretended like nothing bothered me because that’s what everyone else needed. And what did that get me? A bat to the face and being told by my own bullies that I was the one messing with them. They’re the bullies. Mean, angry bullies who I never did anything to. Except try to be friends with you.” Kel finally pulled his eyes to Aubrey with this final word, cutting his furious ranting off with a half laugh half sob. He brought his knees up to his chest and put his arms on top of them. He wasn’t crying, but the pain in his eyes was enough to make Basil’s own chest ache in sympathy.

“And then you let them call me a bully. When I didn’t do anything except try to help.”

Kel dropped his head against his knees, hiding and breathing harshly. His shoulders rose and fell. Up and down and up and down as he panted with exertion from his outburst of emotion. None of them made a sound. Basil wouldn’t have known what to say after that, and he was sure no one else did either. They also couldn’t have been prepared for the final blow that was about to be dealt.

“You all just wanna pretend like none of it ever happened...like all that time didn’t matter.” Kel’s voice was muffled, but the words hit all of them like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t just about this one fight, it wasn’t even just about Aubrey’s friends. It was bigger, stretching out for years and years of suffering that had never been addressed. Basil’s breath caught in his throat, and he could see the others were in a similar state of shock. He looked down at his interlocked fingers, his stomach twisting up in knots.

It was so easy to forget with Kel. It was so simple to just get lost in his happy go lucky personality and his endless bounds of optimism. He always had time for them all, always willing to go that extra mile to help out his friends when they needed him.

He hadn’t given up on them. He hadn’t stopped knocking on Sunny’s door, even when he never answered. He hadn’t stopped saying hi to Basil, even when he didn’t say hi back. He hadn’t stopped encouraging Hero, even when Hero had no encouragement left to offer in return. He had even still looked for the good in Aubrey, when she had nothing good to say about him. That was just who Kel was, someone who kept trying.

But Basil knew better than any of them that a person could only be pushed so far before there was a part of them that was cracked and bleeding and needed others to heal it. Kel was a nice person, a happy person, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments of doubt. The times where he needed to rely on them instead of the other way around. He never pushed, so no one ever was forced to notice all the bad thoughts and emotions piling up under that sweet sunshine smile. It was just easy to forget that those things existed behind his joy and his upbeat attitude.

They were the people who should have remembered to look. They were the ones who should have known. They had all wanted things to go back to the way they were, but the truth was they couldn’t.

There was no way to erase four years, no way to let go of what had happened to Mari. It existed, it was real, and all of them had tried to ignore it. All except for Kel, who had done everything he could to hold them all together without so much as a complaint. He was right, instead of acknowledging his sacrifices, they had acted like none of it had ever happened. That was what was unchallenging, that was what took no effort. But that was also what was killing Kel inside.

He didn’t know what they could say that would even start to mend four years of their friend trying and failing and continuing to try against all hope. What could a person say to that kind of dedication? What kind of thanks could be given to someone who took on that burden without a word until it had nearly crushed him?

It turned out that Basil didn’t need to know the answer. There was someone else who did.

Aubrey rose up from her spot across from Kel on the picnic blanket and plopped down next to him, turning her head away from the other boy. Her hand moved to his, settling on his elbow and grabbing his attention. Kel raised his head, staring silently at her as she looked at him from the side.

Basil didn’t know what conversation the two of them had without words, but he suspected he would never know. Things like that were only ever meant for two people, and even asking about it was treading on something sacred. Whatever it was, it was enough for Kel to uncurl from the position he had put himself in. He sat on his knees facing Aubrey, and she turned to do the same. She took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting his gaze fully.

“I’m sorry,”

It wasn’t much, when it came down to it. It wasn’t a long speech filled with tears and impassioned pleas. Aubrey wasn’t on her knees begging for forgiveness, or making promises to be better. She hadn’t even said it in a special tone or in a whisper meant just for the two of them. It was an apology, nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't really much, but it felt so big. They were all touched by her words, all impacted by the enormity of such a small but profound statement. Sunny edged closer and leaned against Basil, and the weight against his side was warm and grounding. He looked down at the top of Sunny’s head, and the vines looping around his spine eased away once more.

When he turned back, Aubrey and Kel were hugging, sitting up on their knees and clutching hard to one another. He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but it wasn’t something he had ever seen. Basil has only ever seen them giving each other quick little hugs, or the awkward side squeezes Hero demanded after their fights. But this wasn’t either of those. It was genuine and real, and they both seemed a little reluctant when they pulled apart.

Hero, ever the older brother, beamed and pulled the basket to the center of their group, changing the subject to the food that he and Kel made. To anyone outside of their group, it might have seemed like a callous way to change the subject, but the other four were grateful for something to switch their minds to.

With the moment over, Aubrey went back to her usual brusque, digging into the basket and pulling out a sandwich and bottle of water. She grabbed the food and Sunny’s hand, dragging him over to one of the corners and demanding to hear about his new house. Sunny obliged her, talking about his room and the renovation plans his mother had begun.

Kel drifted over to Hero, falling against his brother’s side and leaning his head against Hero’s shoulder. Basil didn’t interrupt, but he watched Hero wrap Kel in his arms and whisper in his ear, something that had to be comforting given how Kel nodded and snuggled closer to his brother. Hero squeezed Kel and turned to Basil.

“How’s the new garden coming along?”

[adraughtofamortentia]

hello, so i’ve written my very first fan fic!! an idea came to live in my head rent free while watching this scene in a cdrama and i just had to write it. its also posted to ao3 here! shoutout to my bestie & beta @thatweirdgirljess, your enthusiasm for my hyperfixations keeps me going~~~

fandom: ancient detective, pairing: jian buzhi x zhao wohuan (m/m), lengh: 2,883

title: you’re my warm heart in a cold world

As evening grew into proper night, Zhao and Jian had retired to their room in the Yiyuan Inn. After the chaotic events of the day the quiet and comfort of each other's company was most welcome. Zhao had stripped down to his black underclothes and settled into a light practice of some of Second Master Li’s sword techniques. As he swung his sword arm, without the actual sword in hand, through the various arcs the book depicted he could feel his freshly stitched wounds on his arms and thigh sting in protest. It was easily ignored though, and Zhao found he appreciated the reminder of why he needed to keep up with his training schedule. 

Being reminded of his wounds prompted Zhao to recall how he came to sustain them, the reason why he had fought so valiantly. The person he fought to protect.

Without stopping the motions of his empty handed sword arm, Zhao looked out of the corner of his eye across the room at Jian. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, also dressed down to his own white undershirt, and seemed to be engrossed with some reading. Gently clutching the book, Jian had his head bowed over the scripture. For all appearances he seemed to be reading deeply, however Zhao also saw that he was continuously fiddling with the corner of one of the pages between his fingers and had not appeared to turn the page in some time. Recognizing the posture as one of Jian’s thinking poses, Zhao leaves him to his thoughts and returns his focus back to his practice.

Pausing his swings and glancing back down at his own book, Zhao takes note of the formation he’s practicing one more time and adjusts himself back into the first pose of the sequence.

As he practiced he continued to think about his battle earlier that day. He could still remember the fear gripping him as the assailant dressed in black relentlessly took shots at Jian. After pulling several quick moves to keep Jian mostly out of harm’s way, Zhao could put the rest of his focus on attacking the masked assailant. At the time he hadn’t actually even felt the wounds being inflicted on him. It wasn’t until after the fight was over that he even registered the cuts and their pain, too focused on thoughts of “protect Jian-ge” and trying to recall his newly acquired sword skills.

Even though he was empty handed now, Zhao felt like he could still hear the clash of metal against metal as his short broadsword met the dual swords in the hands of their attacker. It took several quick maneuvers to both block the attacks and keep Jian out of the way. Every time one of those swords came close to Jian, Zhao felt something in his chest tighten. Too close, he remembers thinking more than once.

After dealing his opponent a well aimed blow, and the attacker finally fleeing with the assistance of his female partner, Zhao’s pain was still merely a second thought as Jian came out from his hiding place. He thinks back to those few moments of pride where he felt success at fending off the villain and protecting his damsel- companion! He means his companion, and sworn brother. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………

“Zhao, when did you become so good?” Jian had exclaimed, rushing over from his hiding place behind the screen to the warrior who was still holding his final battle stance.

However, when this didn’t get any reaction out of Zhao, Jian called him again “Zhao?”

Thinking the silence was Zhao pulling his typical tricks into getting complimented on his increasing skills and finesse as a hero, Jian teases his companion. 

“Although you are great, you don’t need to pose for so long.” This finally prompts the swordsman to stand out of his pose, laughing as he replies “I’m enjoying being a hero!”

Smiling at his heroic, albeit silly, companion, Jian points out “You’re quite humble, Zhao.”

“I’m an expert, of course I have to be humble!” comes Zhao’s quick reply, striking a pose with his sword on display atop his shoulder to emphasize his point. His joy is short lived though as Jian suddenly says “Zhao, you’re bleeding!”

Disbelief fills Zhao, “An expert won’t bleed, Jian-ge!” But he looks down to the areas that Jian is pointing out across his body, and why yes there are indeed several spots where blood has seeped through his clothing. 

Zhao notes the rising panic in Jian’s voice just as his body finally registers the wounds and their pain. To cover up both the way his heart warms at the care apparent in Jian’s voice and the rising feeling of pain overcoming his body, Zhao begins laughing a little too loudly for the situation. The last thing he remembers is the feeling of Jian’s arms coming around his body as he falls forward into him and the awaiting darkness.

……………………………………………………………………………………….........

Zhao lingers in these thoughts, and the treatment he received after by the Wicked Woman, for a while longer letting the soothing atmosphere of the room and the repetitive motions of his sword practice try to settle his storming mind.

It’s some time later when Jain interrupts the quiet of the room. “Zhao, you’re still awake at this hour?”

“You’re not sleeping either” the young hero pointed out. “And besides” he continues “I want to stay with Second Master Li a while longer” holding his sword training book up towards Jian. While that was true, what he didn’t say was that he was still hesitant to go to sleep. He had a feeling that once he closed his eyes his mind would continue to replay the events of the day, but would most likely add sinister twists to the scenario. Where Zhao wasn’t strong enough, fast enough, skilled enough to protect Jian. And instead of Zhao receiving a handful of small wounds, Jian could have been… it could have been much worse.

“You haven’t recovered from your injury” Jian refutes, not looking up from his reading material. “I don’t want you to become crippled.”

Zhao pauses in the middle of his next stroke. He looks over at Jian again, takes in his tense shoulders and the ways his hands have begun gripping the book more tightly than necessary. He hears and sees the worry for what it is; despite accepting Zhao’s protection and the man as a sworn brother (and well, Zhao was still unpacking all of that and the way it made his stomach flutter to think about) Jian had trouble seeing Zhao hurt on his behalf. It wasn’t something they spoke about, but Zhao had seen the guilt in Jian’s intense eyes more than he wanted to. 

“The Wicked Woman has done her job well, Jian-ge, I am feeling well!” Zhao responds enthusiastically. “Besides,” Zhao continues as he puffs out his chest, filling his voice with bravado, “today’s victory shows that with my practicing I am becoming quite the hero!”

This elicited the reaction Zhao wanted out of his companion as Jian let out a soft huff of laughter. He continued, “The sooner I finish Second Master Li’s teaching the sooner I can be an even stronger hero!”

Letting out an obviously forced sigh, Jian replies “I advise you to learn slowly. I don’t have other sword manuals to give you. Take your time.”

Hearing Jian say this, Zhao begins swinging his sword arm more aggressively than necessary for the gentle practice he was doing. But what he heard upset him. “Take my time?” he growled. “Take my time?! For what?” He let out a few more aggressive swings. “For you to actually get hurt next time? No, thank you.” Slash, stab. “I won’t be letting that happen if I can help it,” he finishes as he lets out one last wide swipe of his arm, imagining his sword in hand, taking down his enemies. Jian-ge’s enemies, he thinks. 

Zhao didn’t realize how harshly he had let out his response until he turned and saw Jian looking at him from across the room, wide eyed, his hands having lowered the book into his lap. The two stare at each other from across the room, Zhao sword arm lowered to his side. Jian doesn’t hold the eye contact for long before turning his nose back into the pages of his book. 

Zhao continues to stare at his sworn brother. He thinks he sees a red flush rising on Jian’s neck and ears but he assumes it must be a trick of the light, the alternative too crazy to consider. Jian wouldn’t be blushing because of what Zhao had said, could he? Zhao shook his head lightly to try and clear the foggy feeling of his thoughts.

Sitting down on his own bed, he tries to focus on his training book once again but finds himself imagining what Jian would look like blushing while he could see his whole face. How his cheeks and ears would turn a cute and bright pink. How the colour might travel down his neck, to his chest, and lower still…

Abruptly Zhao brings his book up to cover the front of his face, blushing himself as he realizes where exactly his thoughts about Jian had started going. It wasn’t the first time he had thoughts like this but normally he was better at stopping himself, especially in the other man’s presence. He wasn’t trying to think of him in this way, Zhao just found himself curious about his companion and wanted to know everything about him. In order to protect him, of course. Not because Zhao was selfish and wanted to be someone Jian confided in most intimately. 

Realizing this was a particular spiral he did not feel like traveling down tonight, Zhao decided it was time to get ready for bed. He began to put his things away, stashing the book on his night table and leaning the sword against the headboard, and laid out his bedding. Jian had followed his lead and put his own book away and fluffed up his blanket.

Zhao blows out the last of the candles that light the room, leaving one lit on the centre table to allow some light to permeate the shadows should either need to get up in the middle of the night.

Both had been in bed for only a few moments before Zhao thought he could hear noises coming from Jian’s side of the room. Despite the large space, Zhao could hear a faint clicking noise. It was too dark to see Jian’s form huddled under the blanket, but Zhao imagined if he could he would see his companion’s shoulders shaking. The clicking noise was Jian’s teeth chattering as he shivered from the cold poison circulating through his body. Unfortunately, it was a sound Zhao was becoming more and more familiar with.

Shuffling quietly in bed, Zhao sits up. “Jian-ge?” he quietly asks the room, leaving room for Jian to pretend he did not hear him.

The chattering stops and after a beat he hears a faint “Mm?” coming from Jian’s bed.

“Are you cold, Jian-ge?”

“I’m fine.” 

“You don’t sound fine” Zaho refuted.

A pause. Then, “Just go to sleep, Zhao.”

“What’s wrong, Jian-ge? What can I do?” If Zhao didn’t know better, he’d say he was almost begging, the pleading in his voice clear even to him.

Jian sighs before saying, “It’s nothing, Zhao-shidi. I’m just a little chilly is all. It’ll pass. Just go to sleep. I’m sure we’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

The resigned note in Jian’s voice has Zhao rising from his own bed and crossing the room. It has nothing to do with how soft Jian had called Zhao his shidi. Nothing at all with how that made Zhao’s stomach flutter and made the desire to protect and care for the man increase even more.

It took only a few strides before Zhao was at Jian’s bedside. “Please, Jian-ge.” Zhao said. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for, he just wanted to be able to help. “Are you just cold?”

At first it didn’t seem like Jian would respond, but finally he rolled over slightly to look at Zhao looming over him. He nods into the semi-darkness, the candle on the table giving enough light to show his pale complexion and even paler lips. 

“Alright then. Move over.” Zhao begins lifting the outer corner of the blanket, intent on joining Jian in his bed. As a child Zhao had learned the best way to get and stay warm was to share body heat with another person. Growing up around the mountain of his hometown he had seen many wanderers injured from the colder temperatures higher up.

However, Jian didn’t budge, and instead gripped his side of the blanket tighter around himself. “What?” he all but hiccupped.

“Move over. If we share a bed I can help keep you warm. Surely Jian-ge must know that is a good way to warm up.” Zhao kept his face as neutral as possible, not revealing how nervous he actually was about sharing a bed with the older man. As much as this was his idea, and he was doing it to help Jian after all!, he couldn’t completely deny the part of him that wanted to hold the man close. He blamed it on his need to know his companion was safe.

Jian just keeps looking at Zhao, mouth opening and closing a few times as he seems to struggle to find words to reply. Eventually Jian seems to find what he wants to say, sitting up to reply, letting the blanket fall into his lap. “But it’ll be cold, Zhao, you won’t have a good night’s sleep if you sleep beside me.”

Zhao didn’t care about that, and he knew Jian knew this was a weak defence to present, but it seemed it was all the detective could come up with. Shaking his head and clenching his fists in order to keep his voice calm, Zhao decides for a moment of vulnerability, his patience for Jian’s rebuttals for help wearing thin as it gets later into the night. “Please, Jian-ge? It would help me sleep knowing you are safe.”

Jian stares up at him, eyes trailing over his face, the set of his shoulders, and finally down to his clenched fists. He pauses here for a moment before replying, “Okay”. A deep breath. Zhao pretends not to hear how Jian’s voice shakes just the littlest bit. He doesn't know if it's from his chills or something else. 

“Okay, you can join me.” He slides over in the bed to make room for the younger man.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Zhao quickly jumps under the covers, tucking himself and Jian in under the blanket. At first they both lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling. This way the bed is rather cramped, as it wasn’t really made to accommodate two fully grown men, let alone when one of them was as large as Zhao. 

At the first slight shiver Jian let’s out, he rolls over onto his side, his back facing Zhao. He curls in on himself slightly, clearly trying to keep warm and trying to stifle the shivers racking his body.

Without letting himself pause to think it through, Zhao rolls onto his side too and reaches an arm around Jian’s waist, pulling the smaller man into the front of Zhao’s chest. 

“Zhao! What-” Jian all but squeaks, however Zhao cuts him off. 

“I told you to let me help you. I’ll keep you warm, Jian-ge.” At this he adjusts his grip on his sleeping companion, ensuring Jian is tucked into the cage of his arms. To ensure he gets as much of my body heat as possible, Zhao reasons. Not because holding Jian in his arms made something deep within Zhao settle.

Zhao begins to worry he’s overstepped when Jian holds himself stiff inside the circle of his arms. Just when he thinks he should pull back and maybe even go back to his own bed, that he overstepped, Jian finally releases a breath and let’s his body relax into the younger man’s hold. 

It’s several moments later, and Zhao wonders if Jian has really started to drift off, when he hears a soft “Thank you, shidi” from the man in his arms.

Trying and failing to stop the smile that spreads across his face, Zhao decides to hide it by snuggling into the back of Jian’s neck, letting his nose come to rest in Jain’s hair, smelling the lightly scented soap that his companion favoured. So lost in his own dreamland, he almost, almost, misses the way Jian snuggles back into his embrace. Maybe he didn’t over step nearly as much as he thought he did.

As the two drift off to sleep, Zhao finds himself feeling a deep kind of peace. His last conscious thought before falling into darkness is that he thinks he could fall asleep every night like this. Holding his Jian-ge in his arms, allowed to protect and care for the man. He secretly hopes he’ll be able to do this again. Unbeknownst to him, Jian is having similar thoughts within the confines of his shidi’s arms.

end notes: i'm pretty sure i've gotten the relationship terms incorrect. i went with the closest terms i could think of (ge for older brother and shidi for younger sect brother) to try and highlight their new relationship after becoming sworn brothers in a previous episode. let me know what might be more correct!

[littlegiantposts]

movie night

pairing: todoroki x f!reader

warning: strong language probably. possible anime/manga spoilers! grammar mistakes :( I suck at writing

summary: It’s not that Y/n didn’t want friends, it’s just people always found her intimidating

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent lol sorry about that, so like yeah I’m gonna be saying y/n, but also i am deriving her personality, attitude, looks from a character that I’ve sort of made up in my head haha. also idk if this is like a headcanon, imagine, or like a scenaro....so sorry. And like, sort of a side note, I love making main characters that are like sorta op so y/n’s quirk and story is sorta insane, but you guys dont really have to worry about it too much because its not really in this so....yeah, i guess its just some context. I wrote this while listening to a playlist I made, titled, “ur a badass hero with class 1-a” on spotify so if ppl wanna hear it, I will post a link to it lol. OH and class 1-a are in their second year! That’s a lot, sorry! But, I hope you enjoy!

y/n’s quirk (if ur curious): controlling the 4 elements (aang from the last airbender vibe lmao); but she also got a companion named koda (think of Moro-no-kimi from Princess Mononoke for the look) 

Y/n was never good at making friends. It’s not like she didn’t try, because she did. When she was a little kid, living on Catalina Island, she made a lot of attempts to make friends with fellow children in her pre-school and middle school. It just seemed that they wanted nothing to do with her, talking bad about her behind her back or acting as if she just didn’t exist. 

It started to get exhausting for Y/n to keep trying and ending up always failing. So, when enrolling in the top hero school, UA, Y/n thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different. 

Nonetheless, it’s not like she had absolutely no one. She had Koda! Her best friend in the whole wide world, well her only friend, which was her pet wolf. However, Koda doesn’t like being called a “pet”, let’s stick with her companion. They are quite the inseparable duo. 

Y/n looked down at Koda from her desk who was lulling herself to sleep on the floor as Present Mic was teaching an English lesson. Y/n wished she too can sleep at this moment, “It wouldn’t hurt if I just closed my eyes for just a couple minutes.” Y/n thought. Oh, she was wrong though.

“Alright! We are going take a short break since we need to get our new textbooks,” Present Mic’s voice rang through her ears with all his elongation and passion, “Y/n and Todoroki! What about you two go get the books from the library!” Y/n would have jolted at the mention of her face, but she was honestly too tired to do so. 

She nodded her head, got up from her desk, and looked at Koda if he was going to follow her. Of course, he perked up at the mention of her name and was going with her. A small smile was now on Y/n’s lips. Y/n was glad that she knew she can depend on Koda, always in her corner.

As she pushed her chair away from her desk, getting up and walking towards the door, she didn’t realize that most of the class was either looking at her or the half and half boy, for he had to endure the trip with the enigma that is Y/n. 

The class just doesn’t know Y/n that well. She was one of the new students this year, along with Shinso. However, they at least knew of Shinso from last year. Y/n was a  brand-spanking new addition to the class. Not to mention, her introduction to the class was nothing short of intimidating.

Aizawa knew Y/n had a lot of strengths. In fact, he used her skills as a type of learning lesson for the class. Not to mention, he completely singled her out during the “lesson” as he instructed the class that Y/n will have a bell that is tied around her belt. All they had to do was get the bell. Y/n, being the competitive person she was, didn’t back down at this challenge. Safe to say, no one was able to get the bell that day.

Y/n sighed at the memory. “Maybe, if you had some chill, you would be able to get a friend, Y/n” a voice in her head said, causing Y/n’s shoulders to shrink and her hands to be stuffed into her pockets. (Yes, she has pockets with her uniform. Yes, she’s still wearing the school uniform skirt. She sowed pockets into them for this very habit.) 

“Uh, hey wait up.” a deeper voice called, already identifying who it is.

Y/n turned to right, looking at Koda for a brief second. From far away, one would think he was just grimacing, but as Y/n was closer, she can see he was very close to full-on growling at the sound of his voice.

Koda doesn’t really like Todoroki and Y/n always found it funny. Koda found everyone else real entertaining. As much as Koda was a wolf, he really was a people’s person. If Y/n didn’t know any better, it seemed Koda had a better relationship with her classmates than she actually did.

Y/n adopted a tired smile as she reacted to Koda’s growling at Shoto. She then looked behind her, seeing Todoroki jog lightly towards her. Her small smile soon faded away.

“Even if you try again to be a friend, you know that people will always end up fearing you.” Y/n honestly wanted to bang her head against a wall because this annoying voice was truly the bane of her existence. 

Y/n stopped in her tracks. Koda made eye-contact with her, almost telepathically asking her, “Why are you stopping for him?!”.

“I may be aloof, but I have to at least be polite.” Y/n told her wolf companion. Koda only let out a breathe of frustration as he also stopped as well.

Todoroki soon caught up to the duo and was on Y/n’s left side. And the three began their trek to the school library.

There was some silence.

For Todoroki, it was so awkward. “Why don’t you say something to her?” he asks himself, “Or are you going to let another opportunity slip?”

You see, Shoto Todoroki admired Y/n. She was incredibly skilled with her quirk. She was confident, but not arrogant. She was an innovator, while still accepting old principles. She was naturally smart, but always open to learning. To him, she was so balanced. He couldn’t help himself as the admiration started to soon feel like a crush on the dark haired girl.

For Y/n, she didn’t think anything of the silence. In fact, she was grateful for the silence. More silence, means less time for talking. Less chance of Y/n making a fool out of herself.

“You seem more tired than usual. Trained a lot yesterday, I presume?” And Todoroki broke the silence that Y/n was trying to insist.

“Yeah, trying out a new technique with my water.”

Y/n was surprised.

She really could have been more blunt with her answer.

Theoretically, all she really had to respond with was a “yeah”, but she decided to add that last part.

Why? Why did she feel inclined to go into more detail? Now, Y/n was confused. 

“That’s cool.” Todoroki wanted to hit himself in the head. “That’s all you got to say? What a conversation this is” Shoto mentally sighs. He feels like his heart is going to burst at how fast its going. 

“I’m actually trying to freeze it, but that turns out to be harder than expected,” Y/n almost slapped her hand on her mouth.

Why is she going into more detail? This doesn’t make sense. She’s been quite blunt lately when people try to talk to her, so what gives?

Is it Todoroki, himself? “Maybe he put a spell on me or something.” Y/n didn’t think the “icy-hot bastard” would dabble in witchcraft, but things were just not adding up in Y/n’s mind. All these thoughts woke Y/n right up, ridding herself of her tiredness. 

As for Todoroki, his mind was going into overdrive. “She’s having trouble with freezing water? She must know that this is my specialty. Is this her way of spending time with me? Does this mean the feelings I have for her are mutual? Perhaps, we can train together and I can help her with freezing.” The mere thought of spending time with Y/n outside of class made his cheeks warm up. 

He was an absolute love-struck fool for Y/n. 

“Oh, we’re here.” Y/n stated the obvious as they stand in front of the school’s library, halting Shoto’s mental mumbling, which almost resembled one of Midoryia’s ever-present babbling. 

Shoto Todoroki immediately shot his arm forward to open the door for Y/n, but Y/n was thinking the same thing and they reached for the same handle.

Their hands touch. 

And Todoroki thinks he can die happy now. Y/n’s hand is so soft. Much to his dismay, Y/n immediately drew her hand back as if his hand was scalding hot water. 

Y/n mumbled a quick “sorry” and places her hand on the other handle as there are two doors to the library, she opens it and immediately walks through it as Koda follows in tow. Koda dawns an absolute confused look as he didn’t know what the hell that interaction was about.

The actual task of getting the books aren’t that hard. In fact, it was an easy and quick task.

So, why is this causing Y/n’s mind and heart feeling like they are overheating.

As they walk back to the classroom with stacks of textbooks, Y/n thought, “Okay, there’s no way in hell that he will try to talk to me again, especially after that awkward incident. Now, let’s breakdown why the actual hell you acted that way, Y/n.” She mentally scolded herself like she was a child. 

Todoroki, as always, had a different plan and decided to continue the conversation, “You know, if you need help with freezing water, I can always help you since that is part of my quirk.”

Y/n has officially short-circuited.

He is voluntarily asking? Voluntarily. Asking?

Asking if Y/n wanted to train together?

This has never happened before, and she doesn’t know how to respond. “I would like that. I typically train in the morning and sometimes after school” is what Y/n felt like saying. It is as if her mind and mouth were working against each other.

However, Y/n’s thoughts were cut short as she heard the chatter of some of her fellow classmates. They three of them were very close to their classroom as their door to the room was wide open. 

“Hey guys, if we’re having a movie night tonight, do you think we should invite Y/n?”

It was Midoryia who asked the question. Y/n, Shoto, and Koda stopped dead in their tracks at the mention of her name. Shoto and Koda looked at Y/n with a worried expression. For her own good, she probably shouldn’t be listening, but she couldn’t help but be curious of her classmates’ plan in regards to her.

“It’s not that we don’t want her there. It’s just that, who is up for asking her?”

Silence. No one responded to the question.

Koda notices how Y/n’s grip on the textbooks tightened. Shoto noticed how your head was now titled downward, hiding your face.

“She’s just so intimidating. And not to mention that training exercise we did when we first met her. She’s sort of scary, to be honest.”

“Scary. You’re scary, Y/n. Terrifying.” She couldn’t help but repeat her classmates’ thought of her. She was just torturing herself at this point. No point in dwelling on first impressions, but as this is affecting her current relationship, or lack thereof, with her classmates, she couldn’t help it.

“Y/n-” Todoroki tries to interject before Y/n gets the wrong idea.

But, it’s too late.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the offer though, Todoroki.” Y/n’s words were slow. As much as her brain was going a million miles per hour, her mouth was evidently slower as her breathing was heavier.

She wanted to disappear, or at least get swallowed by the ground. She kept her head down as she strode into the classroom. Her classmates being oblivious to Y/n’s knowledge of what they truly think of her, paying no attention to her.

Shoto was basically frozen in place, next to the door, but he gained composure and walked in the class as well, a couple seconds after. Y/n quickly placed her books on the front desk where Present Mic sat behind of, she sat back in her seat that was in the back of the class.

Y/n watched how Shoto was still standing in front of the classroom as he was stopped by his classmates. Now, they were just chatting, probably talking about the upcoming movie night.

Y/n felt jealousy bubble up inside her. She wished she can chat like how Shoto was effortlessly talking away to his classmates. Or how Midoryia stopped him with such ease to talk about a social event.

Y/n yearned for some friendly interaction. That’s what she wanted when coming to UA. 

She wanted to be normal. As normal as she could be. A normal teenager.

“Things don’t always go according to plan, huh?” Y/n pouted and placed her head on her desk and just waited patiently till the school day was over.

Koda worriedly looked at Y/n. “She’s going to want to train after this. And I bet she’s going to push herself harder because of today.” Koda knew Y/n very well. Knew her like the back of his hand, well, paw. 

And, Koda was right. Y/n was in gym gamma, completely exhausted. Sweat covered her body as her muscles were screaming at her take a break. Her labored breathe continued as her body was trying its best to keep up.

Y/n was frustrated. “Why? Why am I like this?” she kept repeating like a mantra.

“I want to be normal. Why can’t I be like them?”

“Why?”

“You’re a monster. It’s actually quite simple.”

Y/n threw a punch with her fist encased in water, and it wasn’t until after that punch was thrown, she realized that there was now an evident hole in the thick, solid concrete wall. 

Y/n fell to her knees. Koda hurriedly made his way to her, making sure she didn’t do anything too stupid. Once Koda was close, she was doing something unexpected. 

She was crying. 

Hot streams, cascading down her face. She started to hiccup, her breathing erratic. “A-am I scary to you, Koda?” her voice was so small.

Koda nudged his way in between her legs and nestled his head into her neck. Y/n, full on sobbing now, wraps her arms around Koda and her cries are muffled by his fur. Wailing and self-deprecating questions can be faintly heard from her if anyone were to enter the gym.

A couple minutes passed. Y/n’a breathing returned to a calm rhythm.

“Thanks, Koda. I needed that,” Y/n sniffles, “C’mon let’s go make dinner, I’ll whip you up something special for putting up with me today.” Koda’s tail immediately began to wag at the thought of Y/n’s cooking.

Y/n was an independent person. She likes doing things on her own as much as can. She doesn’t eat the food from the school cafeteria, instead, she opts for making her and Koda’s meals from the kitchen that is provided to them in their dormitory. And indeed, she made a delicious dinner for both of them. 

Now, the hard part. Because of how long her training took, showering, and making dinner, Y/n knew that her classmates were in the common space already, probably preparing to have their movie night. And, she had to pass them. It was a short distance, short walk, Y/n was trying to reassure herself. Just walk straight towards to the elevator and you’re safe.

Y/n takes a deep breathe and walks out of the kitchen. The chatter of her classmates emerges to her ears, but as she walks towards the elevator, the chatter dies down.

“Oh no.” Y/n’s eyes widened in fear. “Way to go on ruining the mood, Y/n.”

Thankfully, the elevator was quick and the doors slide open, making an easy escape for Y/n and Koda. She let out a breathe she didn’t even realize she was holding in as the doors slid shut. Y/n looks at Koda, who was already looking at her, “It’s better this way, anyway” Y/n didn’t know if she was telling Koda that, or herself.

On the other side of the elevator’s doors, her classmates collectively let out a sigh, “Well that was another chance we wasted.” Kaminari was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Tch. Like any of you have the guts to actually ask her.” Bakugo chimed in.

“Oh please, Bakugo, I know she intimidates you, too.” Mina fired back.

“Whatever.”

“She heard you guys.” Todoroki suddenly talked. Everyone casted their attention to him, “Earlier today, I mean. She heard you guys when you were talking about inviting her to movie night.” 

The once light-hearted atmosphere in the room was now tilted with guilt.

“She heard all that?” Midoryia incredulously asked, only imagining what you would be feeling because of their words.

“She must feel terrible.” Ochaco openly voiced her thoughts.

“She probably hates us.” Kirishima adds in.

“She means well, I promise. I think we just need to give her a chance.” Todoroki tries to reason with his classmates.

“First, we need to apologize.” Midoryia proposes as he looks among his classmates. His classmates collectively nod their heads in agreement

“You’re right. Well, good luck Midoryia.” Kaminari pats his back as encouragement. Everyone else either gives an encouraging smile or a thumbs up.

“Ha?! What?! You guys already decided that I’m going to be the one to apologize?” Izuku was flailing his arm around and was checking everyone else’s reaction.

“Well, yes. It’s your idea and you are one of the most apologetic people here.” Iida explained to an overthinking Midoryia.

After regaining composure, he realized that this was probably the best option, “Okay, I’ll, I’ll go now.”

Midoryia makes his way to Y/n’s dorm room. He was nervous. He only had very limited interactions with Y/n. So, he really didn’t know what to expect. Before he knew it, he was before your door.

On the other side, Y/n was chowing down on her food. She took a swig of her water, “So, how’s the food? I tried a new technique on roasting the veggies.” Y/n babbled on for a bit, but she realized that Koda’s plate was hardly touched. Her gaze landed on Koda who was sitting on her bed with a very obvious frown, staring at the door. Y/n immediately knew why.

“Hey, if you wanna go hangout with them, I can push the buttons on the elevator for you-”

Koda was irritated at how difficult Y/n was being, she can just ask them if she can join. It was simple. Koda used his mouth to latch on to Y/n’s sleeve and started to drag her to her dorm’s door. 

“H-hey Koda! Not cool, man! You know, I can’t go down there.” Y/n tugs her sleeve away from Koda. 

Koda turned to his last resort. He did his signature pout. 

“Oh, please. You know that stopped working on me awhile ago. Besides, we can have our own movie night, right?” Y/n tried to reason, but her reasoning just felt sad.

Before Y/n could step away from her dorm’s door, she heard a knock. The two quickly tuned their heads at the door as if something miraculous just happened.

Y/n took one step toward the door. 

“It’s Midoryia.” Koda began to wag his tail, “don’t get your hopes up too quickly.”

Y/n opened the door only a slit for her head to poke out, “Oh, hi Midoryia. Is something wrong?” she asks.

“U-um, no nothings wrong.” he responds as nerves start to take over and he doesn’t continue on.

“Okay.” With that, Y/n closed her door. Koda wanted to scratch his eyes out. This was her chance! For someone who was the top student in her class, she was so stupid. “He didn’t want anything. Sorry to disappoint, Koda-” another knock interrupted her.

She looked at the door, “It’s still Midoryia.” Koda rolled his eyes.

Y/n went to to open the door, again, only opening a bit, “Yes, Midoryia? You sure something isn’t wrong?”

“Uh, well I was wondering if we can talk for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Y/n stepped out of her door, and shutting it.

However, Koda was right on her trail, but was shut out by the now closed door. He pouts at the door. And how holds his ear to the door, interested in the conversation that has yet to come.

“So, what’s up?” Y/n asked the green-haired boy.

“I, we, as a class, wanted to apologize for our words today.” Midoryia spoke in a remorseful and quiet tone.

Y/n was taken back. “So, they know that I heard what they were saying? Must have been Todoroki’s doing.”

“Look, it’s fine. I know I’m intimidating-“

“But it’s not fine. We shouldn’t have treated or talked about you that way.”

Y/n was stunned at his words. He took that as a sign to continue, “and we were hoping, if you’d be okay if we start over and become friends.”

Y/n remained cautious with her walls, “You know, friendship isn’t really a perquisite for this course.”

“Of course, I know that. We all do, but it doesn’t hurt to have them, right?”

Y/n felt like tearing up. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to put her trust in that last statement of his. 

“I’ll be be down in 5 minutes,” Y/n stated rather blandly, but it didn’t matter to Midoryia.

“Great! See ya!” He waved and started to head back to the elevator, before he pressed the button, Y/n called him once more,

“Midoryia?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” and nods his head. He couldn’t be more thrilled that this will all work out.

As for Y/n, she opened her door to her dorm, and closing it as she stepped inside.

As soon as she was in the comfort of her own room, she broke into her happy dance. Her fists clenched, eyes shut, shoulders scrunched, jumping in the air, squeals make their way pass her lips, with the biggest smile on her face

Koda felt a wave of relief of wash over him. He was glad that she was finally experiencing acceptance. 

After the moment passes, Y/n sighs and looks at Koda, ruffling his fur on the top of his head.

“Well, shall we?” Y/n said in an extravagant manner as she opened her door and bowed.

Koda, playing along, held his head high and strutted out. Y/n let out a light-hearted laugh and they made their way down, together.

Once Y/n actually made it to the common room, all of her classmates were looking at her, stopping their conversations as well. The confidence that Y/n help was long gone, feeling now awkward yet again.

However, the silence didn’t last too long as the class enveloped her in boisterous apologies, hugs, and pats on the back. 

To say Y/n was overwhelmed was understatement. She had never been around these many people, giving attention towards her. It was new territory she had yet to cross. 

“Guys, you should probably let her breathe.”

That was Todoroki. Y/n pried her eyes away from Mina who was asking what conditioner she uses, and looked at Shoto. Y/n mouthed a “thank you” and he simply nodded.

The class went back to their seats, muttering apologies again for getting in her personal space.

Now, Y/n faced yet another problem:

Where is she going to sit?!

She kept standing where she stood for a good couple seconds, scanning the area for any good spots.

However, there was actually only one spot open. And, it just happen to be next to Todoroki. 

Y/n mentally prepared herself and started her path towards him. Of course, Shoto knew this. He was the one who made sure he saved a seat right next to him just for this occasion.

But things don’t always go according to plan, right?

Rightly so, right before Y/n could take the unaccompanied seat, Denki was coming back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, plopping right down on the seat.

“Oh, hey Y/n! I’m glad you made it! You want some popcorn?”

“No, I’m good, thanks though.” Y/n was able to play it off as she chose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, which coincidentally was in front of the seat that Shoto resided. 

Shoto was irritated. He wanted you to sit next to him. For crying out loud, that was the whole reason he had this seat open in the first place. All he does is sigh, catching Y/n’s attention.

Y/n turns back to Todoroki, sending a small smile his way, but then turning back to the screen as her fellow classmates were arguing on what to watch.

Y/n put her hand to her chest. This is weird. Why is her heart rate so high? She’s not usually like this. Maybe Todoroki did cast a spell on her.

Y/n couldn’t think about it too much as the movie began playing.

[mermaidenisaacs]

isaac went to college and became a fratboy, part 2

the aftermath of hooking up with isaac lahey at a frat party includes: shame, regret, and the stupid thrill of leaving him on read 

TW: sexual language, sexist language, some impure thoughts

I finally saw Isaac again. 

After a fire alarm interrupted my study session at the library (some idiot burned Poptarts in the microwave again), I was forced to evacuate to a nearby dining hall. I was annoyed by the whole ordeal until the hunger pangs kicked in. 

I was waiting in line for tacos when I saw him. He was sitting at a table by the windows, laughing with his head thrown back while another guy, presumably one of his frat bros, playfully shoved his shoulder and laughed along. He was surrounded by three attractive boys, one of which I recognized from my political science class last semester. I remembered him because he was unnaturally attractive, with swooped brown hair and warm chocolate eyes, and also because he had saved me from the embarrassment of forgetting to bring a scantron for the midterm by offering me one of his extras. His fratboy status aside, he was surprisingly decent. His name may have started with an ‘S.’ Steven maybe? Sam? 

I couldn’t focus on him for long, not when Isaac suddenly turned in my direction and met my gaze. I froze, caught in the act of staring. The corner of Isaac’s mouth tilted upwards into a smirk, and his gaze dropped shamelessly to my legs and drifted slowly back up, and in that moment, all the memories of our night together came rushing back. 

It was the first time I’d seen him since that night he had invited me to a party at his frat house, where he unceremoniously fucked me head-first into his bedroom door, then kicked me out, leaving me to retreat with my hair disheveled, makeup smudged, traces of him between my thighs. Anyone who wasn’t too drunk or high could piece together why I looked absolutely wrecked. I’m sure many girls had been seen doing the walk of shame out of Isaac’s room, and now I really was just one of the many, another notch on his bedpost. 

Isaac succeeded in living up to his fuckboy reputation. After that party, he texted almost every other midnight, snapchatted borderline nude selfies of his shirtless chest or his hand palming his erection over his sweatpants, with captions like “wyd,” “you up,” or “miss this?” That last one always sent waves of arousal, tainted with shame, reminders of the way I let Isaac degrade me and use my body, the way I loved every second of it and craved to feel it again. 

So far, I hadn’t texted him back, but I couldn’t resist leaving him on read. I smirked at the thought that Isaac might feel the sting of my cold indifference. It wasn’t much, and it was stupid, but it was the only power I could salvage back for myself. I avoided him in class too, and nearly gave myself leg cramps every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday to sprint across campus and get to class early so I could choose a seat far away from our usual spots. I sat towards the front, an area I knew he wouldn’t encroach in fear that the professor would see him dozing off during lecture. He even texted me dirty things during class to get my attention. It was taxing to ignore the distraction, but I ignored the buzzing on my desk, letting Isaac’s stare burn a hole into the back of my head. 

Eventually he got the hint and the texts stopped, and it left me with the somewhat bittersweet realization that we had reached the end of our… whatever it was. 

Or so I thought. Three weeks and one burnt poptart later, there he was, staring back at me with the knowing glint in his eyes that only comes when you’ve seen someone naked. 

The only available table in the dining hall was one near the windows, and I would have to walk past Isaac’s table to get there. With my tray in hand and my bag hanging off one shoulder, I steeled myself and walked in his direction. 

I hung my head, letting my hair drape my face from his view, but my attempt at hiding was useless. He called out my name anyway. I tried to continue in my path and pretend I hadn’t heard him, but he called my name louder. Begrudgingly, I stopped and turned around. 

“Isaac.” I said.

“So, she lives. I was starting to get worried. You never responded to my messages,” he said, subtly referencing his obscene attempts at luring me back into his bed. 

I rolled my eyes and smiled back tight-lipped. “I was hoping you’d take the hint and leave me alone, but clearly you’re too dense.” 

One of Isaac’s friends snorted loudly at my remark, the one I recognized from last semester. Isaac glared at him. “Sorry,” the boy said. “First time seeing a girl call you on your bullshit. I like her.” 

I smiled at him, bashfully tucking my hair behind my ear. “Um, I remember you, but I’m blanking on your name. Sorry,” I said to him. 

“No worries! I don’t think we were ever properly introduced. I’m Scott. We had political science last semester, right?” I nodded. “Yeah, you were the girl who forgot a scantron.” 

“Yes.” I chuckled in slight embarrassment. “Thanks for that, by the way. You really saved my ass.”

“Of course! I was happy to have an excuse to talk to the pretty girl who sat next to me all semester, even if it was just for a few seconds,” he said charmingly, flashing an adorable smile. I scoffed playfully at the compliment. His gentle flirting was a welcomed change from the texts I’d been receiving from Isaac, who I noticed was suddenly glaring daggers at me. “Hey,” Scott said, “since you’re here and you know Isaac, and now you know me too, why don’t you join us?” 

My eyes went wide and my mind blanked. I stuttered for an excuse. “Oh, th-that’s okay, I don’t want to intrude. Besides, there aren’t even any empty seats--” 

“Oh no worries, I got you.” Scott stood up and looked around, then approached a nearby table. He spoke a few words to the group of girls studying there, who giggled at something he said and nodded. Scott picked up an empty chair at their table and brought it over, proudly presenting his contribution. “There! Please, sit.” He gestured towards the seat and smiled at me so sweetly, I felt it would be rude to reject his offer. I nodded and gingerly perched on the seat. I set down my bag and my food, and cordially gave a tiny wave to all the other boys at the table, who exchanged knowing grins. 

~*~*~*~

Isaac couldn’t believe you actually accepted Scott’s offer to take a seat. 

Not that Scott had left you much of a choice. He had these big brown eyes that girls usually fell for. And then there was the way he so valiantly brought a chair over for you. Isaac chewed on the flesh inside his cheek, unable to plaster on his usual easy grin. He couldn’t help it, especially now that you were sitting with him and his friends, acting all cute and polite, playing the act of the good girl again. 

Normally, his pride would swell if he saw you act all prim and proper. He could bask in the satisfaction of being the only one who knew who you really were, what you really were. He knew your ticks, your kinks, what you looked like when you were coming apart all over his cock and begging him for more. 

He couldn’t enjoy that knowledge today, not when his friends were staring at you like that. To any outsider, they just looked three boys engrossed in chit chat, but Isaac knew better. Behind their friendly, clean cut facade, they were all thinking the same thing, and it was far from clean. Isaac didn’t care who his friends slept with, and on occasion they even passed around the same girls, those special ones who didn’t care who they fucked as long as they had a good time. 

But for some reason, the thought that any one of them, Theo or Liam, or especially Scott, laying a finger on you, made Isaac’s blood boil. Isaac tried to extract this ugly feeling, this primal possesiveness he couldn’t seem to shake when he saw another guy looking at you.  

Isaac somehow managed to keep his expression neutral as you giggled at something Liam just said. The kid had managed to endear himself to you already. He was young, and in the newest pledge class, but he was a quick learner. Isaac had taken a fondness to him and decided to mentor him, taken him under his wing and transformed him into his image. Liam’s arrogance and eagerness to prove himself was something Isaac remembered from his freshman year. What he didn’t expect was that Liam would hone Isaac’s techniques to make girls fall at his feet and use them on you.

You giggled again. “Oh my god, Liam, I can’t believe you did that!” Liam had just finished telling a story about the time he knocked over a TV trying to do a drunken keg stand. “You could’ve broken your arm or something. What were you thinking?” 

Liam shrugged sheepishly and grinned. “I don’t know. There was a girl I wanted to impress and she was older than me, so I just went for it ya know?” 

You smiled fondly at him. “That is adorable. How much older was she? And what year are you?” 

“She’s a senior and… I’m a freshman.” Liam looked down shyly and rubbed the back of his head, just like Isaac had taught him to. The lesson was to use your age to your advantage. Girls loved that cute shit. 

“Aww, Liam you’re so cute! And I’m sure she thought so too.” 

“You think so? That’s good. I’m kinda into older girls.” Liam bowed his head again and smiled, and Isaac would’ve been proud of how well he’d taught him, if only you weren’t on the receiving end of his little performance. 

Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be working. You hummed casually in response. “Hm, I know what you mean. My philosophy professor last semester was so hot. She was maybe in her late 30s, and I still have no clue what she went on and on about, but it was my favorite lecture of the day.” 

Isaac inwardly grinned at the way Liam’s accomplished smile faded at your unaffected response. 

Theo snorted. “You had a crush on your female professor?” he drawled. “That’s kinda hot.” 

“Is it? It’s not really that big of a deal. Haven’t you ever found any of your male professors attractive? I feel like the place is swarming with hot male professors.” 

Theo looked at you in amusement, with a twinkle in his eyes that Isaac was all too familiar with. It was clear now Theo had his sights set on you, and usually when that happened, Theo got exactly what he wanted. “Can’t say I’ve had time to think about the men around here. I’ve been a bit too distracted with the girls.” 

When Liam flirted with you, Isaac could manage his jealousy, since the kid was still mostly innocent, all talk and no real game. With Theo, all bets were off. He didn’t have an innocent bone in his body and he wasn’t afraid to let girls know, and they were always very happy to know. Isaac knew he himself had strayed far from purity a long time ago, but Theo was something else. Isaac preferred you choose anyone over Theo, maybe even Scott, who was Isaac’s closest friend, if it meant you would stay away from Theo. 

“So, I’m curious,” Theo continued. “How exactly do you know Isaac?” 

Isaac noticed the way your eyes widened the tiniest bit. “Oh, uh, we um, have a class together,” you said. Isaac could hear the nervous wobble in your voice as you spoke, and his lip curled up in amusement at the realization that you were nervous because you were thinking about him.

*

author’s note: i came across a google doc of a draft i wrote 3 years ago. a continuation of a fratboy!isaac fic that made people feel some kinda way. the fic, along with all my other fics, got zapped when my old blog got terminated. but since i found the draft and remembered how many requests i got for a part 2, here it is (kinda). 3 years later. i’m sorry. 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Reunite Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date (and Season 2) which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

It’s vital to understand what’s going on in Season 2 so you wouldn’t get confused in this date. Do read this post before proceeding :)

Parallel World Dates Collection: Gavin // Kiro // Shaw

The date begins with MC standing outside LFG

She recalls her father telling her about their company receiving an investment from a four-year-old company which he believes will become a worthy partner in the future

Of course, that company is LFG

Back at the present, she muses that LFG isn’t as grand as the LFG in her memory. And that if everything remains the same as in the original timeline, she would meet Victor after four years

She recalls the “warning”: “Your unintentional actions may lead to irretrievable consequences.”

When she looks up with a bitter smile, she sees Victor across the street

I lower my head, countless emotions flooding into my heart - happiness and sadness... until a foreign voice enters my mind. 

??: Miss MC, nice to meet you. There is a message from the “past” here. CEO Victor, you may begin. 

MC: ?!

Victor: Dummy, what are you hesitating about? 

Victor’s voice rings in my head clearly. I freeze in place.

“Message from the past?” 

What is this... why can I hear Victor’s voice? 

The Victor on the opposite side of the road doesn’t notice my existence at all, and exits my field of vision. I press a hand to my forehead, thinking what happened earlier was a mere hallucination.

But his voice appears in my mind once again, as clear as day.

Victor: Didn’t you say you were going to find the old me? Do you regret meeting me now? 

MC: How could I regret it!

Victor: You dare to regret it? 

As if we’re having a conversation, I speak aloud, my voice overlapping with his. 

The faraway soft laughter gradually disappears from my mind. As though an invisible hand is pushing me from behind, I break into a run. 

If the future doesn’t replay itself perfectly while the world moves forward slowly, is there be a possibility that we wouldn’t meet again? 

With this thought, my heart clenches. Just greeting him shouldn’t be an issue...

If I simply watch him leave...

If I don’t get a future where I can meet him again...

I wouldn’t be able to accept it. 

MC: Victor! Victor!! Wait!!!!

I call his name loudly, failing to notice that the traffic light has turned red. 

A harsh whistle resounds behind me. 

I turn my head and see a taxi coming towards me, and instinctively want to leap to the side to avoid the impact. 

The expected fall doesn’t arrive, and the world suddenly turns quiet. 

I’ve fallen into a warm embrace. 

In slight disbelief, I take in everything in front of me. Rain drops remain still in the air. He carries me away from the impending car. 

That cold yet reassuring breath makes the whole world turn a little fuzzy. I blink hard and clench my teeth, not wanting him to see my tears. 

Tick tock. Tick tock.

I hear the stalled hands of time in my world start moving once again.

It turns out that my time only stops for him, and only starts again because of him.

I seem to have returned to a very, very long time ago. Perhaps this is an unintentional prank from the heavens, but it also feels like a gift from it. 

Victor: Evolver? 

MC: ?

Victor: You still don’t know? 

MC: ...I do.

Victor: ...

MC: T-thank you for saving me. 

Victor: You should watch yourself. Someone can’t come to your rescue every time. 

He puts me down at the shoulder of the road, but doesn’t leave. 

Victor: Why did you call me just now? 

MC: I thought you’d first ask how I know your name...

Victor: That isn’t important. 

He’s really the same as always. 

MC: I... I just wanted to see you. You’ve invested in my company - the film company you recently invested in. Do you remember...

Victor: And then? 

He cuts off my explanation coldly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, waiting for me to continue. 

MC: ...there’s nothing else. I just wanted to see what sort of a person you are.

Victor: Have you seen enough? 

After saying this, he turns around to leave, uninterested in my response. 

MC: W-wait!

He furrows his eyebrows slightly, but stops in his steps. 

Although I called him without hesitation, I have no idea what to say. 

I would never regret meeting Victor. Yet, I’m not content with having such a superficial meeting with him.

This time, I want to take more initiative to stand by his side. 

Meeting his sharp gaze, I straighten my back and look at him resolutely. 

MC: My name is MC, and I’m the future producer of the film company you have invested in. I’ll definitely improve the film company, and all the programs will become more and more outstanding. You will not have the chance to take back your investment. And you will not be disappointed. 

I say every word and sentence to Victor. The rain has stopped, and light reflects off his eyes, which have widened slightly. 

In the next moment, a large falling leaf is blown by the spring breeze, sticking to the side of my face. 

MC: ...

Victor: [soft laughter]

Victor’s eyes crinkle and the corners of his lips lift. Victor suppresses a smile, then faces me again. 

Victor: For now, being able to stay alive is your biggest challenge. 

While Victor is speaking, another large leaf seems to respond, slapping onto his face.

Victor: ...

I’m unable to suppress my laughter. A few stray tears follow along with my smile. 

Victor knits his brows, and I reach out with a trembling hand, prepared to pluck the leaf from his face. 

At this moment, a strange figure emerges from behind Victor and touches his arm. 

Victor: !

MC: !!

Instinctively, I rush forward to grab onto the mystery person’s sleeve, wanting to protect Victor. 

In the next second, the both of us find ourselves in a bar. The person in front of the bar counter freezes for a moment, furrowing his brows exaggeratedly. 

Man: Big bro, what’s with this “buy one get one free”?

~

MC looks around her surroundings and discovers she’s in a bar called “Mondlicht”, which sounds familiar to her - she saw this name once in her father’s records on Black Swan

The man dismisses the mysterious figure coldly, leaving the three of them in the bar

The man offers to have MC teleported back to where she came from, but Victor says: “You’re not worthy to be trusted.”, and tells the man to cut to the chase.

Man: CEO Victor, there’s no need to be anxious. There’s a man who wants to see you, but he isn’t in this bar right now. As for the reason why... CEO Victor should know it clearly. So, before meeting him, that man has requested that I invite you here - to see if you’re someone worth meeting. To put it simply... this is just a small test. 

While all this is happening, MC wonders what connections Victor has with Black Swan

Victor: I didn’t know of such foolish tests. Are you all too bored, or do I look very free? 

Victor... he doesn’t seem surprised to be here. 

Victor pulls MC to him

Victor: Sorry. Stay by my side. You’ll be fine. 

MC tells Victor to be careful and warns him that Black Swan could be behind this. Victor pauses, but quickly recovers and resumes his conversation with the man

The man takes out a deck of poker cards:

Man: As part of the test, is CEO Victor interested in playing a game?

Victor: No.

The scene turns incredibly awkward. 

Victor swirls the wine glass in his hand, bringing it to his mouth and pursing his lips. He doesn’t care for how the man would react. 

Arrogant and proud. 

Man: You’re making things difficult for me. This is just a simple game.

Victor: Even if I’m uninterested, you wouldn’t let us go. You’ve got too much nonsense. 

Man: ...

The man smiles, handing out the cards resignedly. After dealing the cards, he suddenly thinks of something, and balls one hand into a fist and taps it against the other palm.

Man: Since it’s a game, we’ll need a bargaining chip. If CEO Victor wins, that person will naturally give you what you want. If you lose... you’ll have to leave your life here. 

The air becomes incredibly quiet. I look at the man in shock. His eyes are crinkled, as though he just brought up a trivial matter. 

Man: Lady, you don’t need to be so nervous. It wouldn’t be fun if you’re too nervous. Why don’t we liven up the atmosphere? 

The man retrieves a set of darts, and Victor lets MC throw it

She refuses, but decides to do it after Victor and the man assure her that the dart game has nothing to do with the actual poker game 

With Victor’s guidance, she hits the bull’s eye

Victor and the man finally start the poker game

MC has no idea what’s happening

I have no idea what’s happening too since I don’t play poker, but I hope the translation makes sense: 

Both men flip over the cards in their hands. In Victor’s hand is a straight flush.

Man: CEO Victor, it’s not good to cheat. 

With a wave of his hand, a few men clothed in black suddenly appear, pointing cold muzzles towards Victor.  

Victor supports his head arrogantly, eyes filled with disdain. His cold fingertips tap the poker cards. 

Victor: Look carefully. This isn’t the club flush you deliberately swapped over.

The man freezes, then leans over to look. Seeing the black spades card, he suddenly bursts into laughter, clapping excitedly.

Man: As expected of CEO Victor.

Victor: Your techniques were too clumsy. Including these toys. 

The man isn’t angry. With a wave of his hand, the men clothed in black disappear. 

In the end, he finally sets aside his cynical expression. Placing his right hand behind his back, he gives a humble bow. 

Man: I should be arranging another meeting for you and that man soon.

While the man speaks, the guy who brought us to the bar appears. 

~

They return to the roadside 

MC: Victor, since this is the first time we met, why did you let me shoot the dart earlier? 

Victor: ...LFG is only a medium-sized enterprise. What reason do you have for running over and speaking so confidently?

I’m left frozen to the spot at his question. I turn my eyes to the end of the road, taking a deep breath. 

MC: Because I know that in the future, LFG will expand by a thousand times, and will become unbeatable in the market. It will have the ability to influence countless people. And you will become the driver of this force, so...

I speak my mind, and slowly lower my head as I continue with my words.

In front of me, I see Victor’s many faces - angry, frowning, smiling...

At the end, when I look up again, they form the face in front of me - somewhat young, and not yet humble.

So, I want to be remembered by you, and I want to become someone who’s most unique to you. 

I leave this sentence out, but I say it silently in my heart. 

There is a certain depth in his pupils. The spring breeze is gentle, as though something is slowly sprouting. 

Victor: You have so much faith in it?

MC: It’s not just faith. You’ll definitely do it. 

The corners of his lips turn up slowly. He places a hand into his pocket. In that moment, it seems as though all the brilliant lights in the world are in his eyes. 

Victor: Since you have the wild ambition of not losing future LFG’s investment, I’ll have to see what you’re made of. I’ll remember your words. I look forward to your performance. 

~

A few days later, Victor walks into a dark building. 

??: Welcome to Black Swan.

~

Eight months later.

I heard that Black Swan recently had a major change. A high-ranking cadre and a portion of the members left. The Board of Directors has also seen a reorganisation.

After many years, I’m now at the Black Swan building.

At this point, everything in the future has not occurred. The me of right now has not officially become a member of Black Swan. 

The empty meeting room is silent. Someone seems to be seated behind a barrier at the end of the meeting room.

MC: Sorry to bother you...

Just as I prepare to leave, an unknown device starts up quietly. The long table shrinks and becomes a normal desk. The barrier pulls open slowly.

MC: V-Victor?!

Clearly, in contrast to my shock, Victor is not at all surprised by my appearance. 

Victor: You haven’t shown me any positive evidence regarding your words before. 

Victor: Don’t forget what you said. 

Victor: Don't make me regret choosing you.

-

🌹 MOMENTS 🌹

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: Unlucky me is destined to never draw a Straight Flush...

Victor: You can play mahjong. 

-

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: I agree. After four years of fruitless hard work, I hope everyone won’t fall into this fiery pit.

Victor: Told you so.

-

Victor’s Post: Being able to draw a Straight Flush has nothing to do with hard work.

MC: Is there really no relation? Maybe there’ll be an improvement after five years?

Victor: You’ll still be this way after ten years.

-

Phone call: here

[libermachinae]

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part IV: Touch - Chapter 13: Twisting and Snarling

Also available on AO3 Chapter Summary: A hunt is on and the jig is up. Word Count: 3272

---

Gigatron had known, upon entering the throne room, that it was his destiny to have found this place. Why else would the the throne, a grand centerpiece from which he could observe every move of his soldiers, be so perfectly fitted to his frame? From here, he’d known, he would lay the foundations for the campaign that would bring the universe, at last, to its knees before the Decepticons. A place like this was reserved for champions and kings, and his claim over it proved that he had the makings of both.

So the reports concerning the Autobot infiltrators concerned him little. In the hours since their arrival, Startle and Sweeper had alternated rushing inside with alerts to the effect of, “The grounder was spotted in the midst of sector Z4, driving inbound,” or, “The slagged shuttle intercepted and we lost visual.” They treated each announcement as if it were news. Gigatron was well aware Deadlock was headed in fast with an Autobot hanging off his spoiler. He knew his current regiment would struggle and ultimately fail to catch him. Everything was progressing as he had always expected it would, so he stayed in his throne and waited them out.

He knew, as he answered the latest hail to his comm, that while victory would inevitably be his, this would not be it.

“Report.”

“Sir,” Vanquish said, “Deadlock got away.”

“Explain.” Vanquish was among his best, the captain of his security forces and first choice for rare away missions. Hellbat had handpicked him, and Gigatron trusted no one’s judgment more. Clearly, a few years separated from his roots had done nothing to blunt Deadlock’s edge.

“We thought we had him cornered,” Vanquish said. “There were three blasters aimed at his head and a sniper up above. Pothole moved in and he took an unlikely evasive maneuver over the wall at his back.” He grumbled, his pride hurt. “He’s fast, sir.”

“Any sign of his companions?” Gigatron asked.

“No, sir.”

“Is he injured?”

“No, not that I could see, sir.”

“You had him cornered and didn’t shoot him.” This was why he so eagerly awaited Deadlock’s arrival; idleness had proven unkind to his own mechs. Deadlock, whether he ended up serving as idol or an example, would bring them back to the caliber Gigatron expected of those under his command. First, though, he had to get here, and Gigatron was growing tired of being patient. It seemed that afford this encounter the gravity it deserved, Deadlock had decided to turn it into a game. Fine. Gigatron could humor him, if only briefly.

“I’m taking my team,” he decided. “Return to base and await further orders. I don’t need you all broadcasting my location to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gigatron cut the comm and made to gesture to Hellbat, only to remember he had left on his own errand. He waved instead to the next nearest mech, Sweeper, who straightened to attention.

“Get my squad ready,” Gigatron commanded. “We’re joining the hunt.”

~*~

Seated in the Decepticon shuttle, hovering at the far edge of Decepticon territory, Ratchet barely moved. There had been a cough sitting in his engine so long it felt like the fumes were corroding his pipes, but he batted down commands to clear it even as his internals stung and his filters felt heavy. He could distract himself by tapping against his knee, but the feeling was starting to overwhelm his rudimentary distraction technique. 

It didn’t help that his other main distraction was judging him, harshly. Rodimus hadn’t said so much in words, but he found it amusing that Ratchet was holding himself to such stringent demands when there were easier solutions. Each time he felt the wave of derision, Ratchet shot back with the simple point that Rodimus wasn’t speaking for a reason. Both of them were silent as Drift slipped into the base, desperate not to distract him but unwilling to cut the comm for even a moment, the crackling feedback of his malfunctioning comm suite their only sign he was still operational.

There had been so many close calls getting him in this far, and he still wasn’t all the way to the target yet. Somehow, he planned to sneak a pair of potentially unwilling Decepticons back out of their fortified base, and then once outside somehow maneuver around the patrols, which were growing more aggressive with each near miss. They’d all known going in this would be a dangerous, difficult operation, but Ratchet kept wondering if they could have done more to prepare. If they’d gone in not just watching one another’s backs, but being—

Rodimus intercepted the thought before it could go any further. Regardless of the fact they kept looping back to it, now wasn’t the time.

“I’m in,” Drift whispered, offering an ideal distraction.

“What are their defenses like?” The words tumbled out of Ratchet, followed by a hacking filter cough that he immediately muted himself for. His fans were still spinning when he jumped back into the channel.

“—very spare,” Drift was saying. “Could’ve walked in through the front door.”

“That’s not normal, right?” Rodimus asked, assuming the answer but trying to avoid saying something stupid in front of the expert.

“It’s not like there’s standard practice out here, but no,” Drift said. “A group with that sophisticated a defense system normally wouldn’t leave their headquarters unattended.”

“Is it possible it’s a decoy?” Ratchet asked.

“Sure,” Drift said nonchalantly.

“As in a trap?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ratchet didn’t bother adding anything else. Rodimus’ thoughts were bland and resigned; a mental shrug, perhaps a pat on the shoulder. Ratchet accepted it as the best he was going to get.

“Any signs of Grit?” Rodimus asked to fill the empty space.

“Not yet. Have an idea where he might be, though.”

“Thought you said they don’t keep standard practice in these places.”

“They don’t.”

Ratchet was going to push him further on it when he heard the subtle click of disconnection.

“Drift?”

No response.

“Drift?” he tried again, pointlessly.

“What—did he—”

He did. He did, Ratchet was certain, because the last tone of a comm being broken was completely different from one shut off manually. That knowledge, combined with Rodimus’ unending confidence in Drift, allowed them to stave off the cascade of panic they felt at being shut out so suddenly.

“Why would he cut us off?” Rodimus demanded.

Ratchet briefly wondered if they were coming to rely too much on their mind link, losing touch with how to understand other Cybertronians without it. The passing thought was swept along in the tide, though, inconsequential compared to their much more pressing concerns.

“He found something.” And now he was facing it all alone.

“Not alone,” Rodimus reminded him. “He’s got us.”

He wasn’t wrong. Ratchet reached out and held onto Rodimus’ certainty, feeling Rodimus do the same as he started to input the commands for takeoff.

~*~

Gigatron slammed one taloned foot to the ground and roared, echoing through the barren canyons. Another dead end and no sign of Deadlock. The little shuttle had made one appearance but fled the moment Gigatron gave chase, leaving him once more to wait for reports full of almosts and nearlys.

The tracks Drop Down had found led to a cliff with no apparent follow through. Same with the trail Sweeper had slithered over. Now, Rageor was chiming in, claiming he had found something. Gigatron flapped his wings twice and took to the air, homing in on the provided coordinates. Rageor stood before a tall cliff face, two members of his squad on either side of him, facing something hidden between the three of them. Gigatron let himself drop, brittle dust stone buckling beneath his feet as he landed and sending a cloud up into the air. He coiled his necks up to their full height before he stepped forward, flames licking his teeth.

“Show me,” he demanded.

Rageor nodded and stepped aside, revealing a mech cowering against the wall. Blocky and tan with green accents, his utterly plain appearance would have made it possible to mistake him for a neutral, were it not for the purple insignia splashed on the back of his shoulder. Gigatron turned to the captain of his vanguard, who raised his hands and took a step back.

“That’s not Deadlock,” Gigatron growled.

“He claims to have information,” Rageor said, turning his face away when the flames came close. Gigatron turned one of his heads to the unknown Decepticon, who cowered from the direct attention and squirmed as though trying to press himself into the rock itself.

“Well?” The thrill of the hunt was waning, glory still at bay, and Gigatron’s patience was wearing thin.

“Dr—Deadlock, he brought me here,” the Decepticon said, “on his shuttle. Rickety little thing, meant we were in auditory range the whole time.” He gulped as Gigatron pawed at the ground, talons driving furrows into the soft stone. “He and his Autobots, they were trying to be vague, but they had something on their ship. Some kinda weapon.”

“And?” Gigatron asked, unimpressed. He hardly needed to ruffle his platelets to reveal his own flying arsenal. If this Decepticon intended to use this weapon as a bargaining chip for his life, Gigatron wasn’t sure which side he was undervaluing more.

“And they specifically didn’t want you getting at it”

Hm. Hadn’t he heard a refrain like that before?

The Decepticon froze as Gigatron straightened, each of his hands rising high to scan the distant horizon. Deadlock might have been the key to this planet’s greatest asset, but Gigatron hadn’t gotten where he was by limiting his prospects.

“All patrols, update priorities,” he announced. “It seems there is a second prize in our midst.”

~*~

“That is what we are, that is why we’re here. Machines of war, of—”

Hellbat broke off mid-rant, which was fine, because with two guns aimed at his head and the tip of a sword digging into his back, Drift was only half paying attention. The rest of his limited focus was on Grit, kneeled at Hellbat’s side with his hands bound behind his back and plating locked tight as a blast container. The stone army he had tucked to the side for now, concerning but not an immediate threat while they remained in their dormant state.

“What? Gigatron, sir,” Hellbat snapped, glaring at the ceiling as though he could see his commander through the stone. “You can’t—we need the Autobots alive.”

Drift did his best not to react, though the blade digging harder between his shoulder panels suggested he didn’t do well enough.

“What’s—I don’t know—what do you care about some cheap Autobot weapon? We have the army, remember? That’s—”

Drift’s control slipped. He flinched from the edge of the sword cutting into his subplating, but it didn’t stop him from switching his comms back on. Security be damned, they were already compromised.

“Gigatron knows about the Enigma,” he rushed to say. “Get off the planet, go, they—”

“Hey, enough.”

He thought he heard the blip of a response before the gun pointed at his temple twisted around and came down hard against his helm. His vision went to static as he went down, not from the blow itself but the audible POP as his busted comms suite finally gave out. A hand grabbed his drooping shoulder and hauled him upright again, while another forced his helm up to meet Hellbat’s optics.

“If you tell me where the Autobots are, I’ll promise to put them into stasis before I begin the harvesting process,” he said. “It’s a much better end than they’ll find in Gigatron’s maw, I assure you.”

Helm swimming with pain and spark frantic with worry—please, let them somehow find a degree more sense than they had displayed throughout the extent of this ordeal—Drift somehow managed to find Hellbat’s optics and lock onto them.

“You know, you almost remind me of them,” he said. “You’re all terrible at compromise.” His voice sounded hollow, and when the next strike came he sagged down to his knees, waiting for the pain to fade and the static to clear. He tried pinging his comm suite but got nothing, not even the echo of a signal failing to reach its destination. He was fully cut off.

“Go,” he heard Hellbat bark. “Gather your team. You know what to do.”

“But sir—”

“Once I’ve gathered everything I need from him, you can do whatever you please with what remains,” Hellbat promised Vanquish. “Now go.”

The blade drew away from his back, followed by retreating footsteps. He peered up at his remaining guards, guns still aimed, and Hellbat, who had drawn out a pair of stasis cuffs. Drift glanced at Grit. The returned look was weary, but not yet beaten. The silent dialogue that passed between them might not have been precise as a comm, but it was much faster: Drift only had to leap back as Grit threw himself at Hellbat.

Both guns went off, their near misses giving Drift an opening to draw his swords and rush them. Movements simple, cuts clean: one guard down faster than the time it had taken him to get up. The other fired again, forcing Drift to dodge to the side and back. The remaining guard circled Drift, finger wrapped around the trigger and clearly waiting for him to make the first move. Drift let him, maneuvering himself until his back was to the hallway, the guard standing between him and the stone army.

Down on the floor, Grit didn’t have a way to pin Hellbat, but he was keeping him occupied, both of them twisting and snarling around each other as they fought for the advantage. Hellbat managed to curl one leg between them and shove Grit off. He rolled into Drift’s path, who hauled him up without taking his optics off the guard. Hellbat rose to his pedes with an almost insulting level of patience, dusting off his armor and brushing his hand over the minor dents Grit had left in his plating. Drift shoved Grit behind himself, swords immediately coming back up when he saw the guard twitch.

“Go,” he said without looking back. “I suspect your teammate needs help right now.”

“Which one?” Grit growled. “They’re both—uck, never mind. You want these two for yourself? Have at ‘em.” He took off, awkward gait echoing through the empty stone halls. Drift didn’t know how he would get out of the base with his arms bound, but with so much else riding on him he couldn’t worry about it.

Hellbat’s guard twitched, tempted by the easy target into opening a window. Drift spun his blade forward, going for the gun, but Hellbat shoved him to the side. The scuffle was enough to break the gun’s aim, but now it was pointed at Drift as he rolled to the side and threw off Hellbat. He swept out a leg, knocking over the guard, and used his momentum as he stood to kick the gun to the other side of the platform.

He made to chase after it, but a flash of movement to his other side caught his attention: Hellbat had taken off. Drift gave a second kick to make sure the guard stayed down, then rushed to the edge of the platform, Hellbat touching down at the control panels in the middle of the room.

“Enough of this.”

“Hellbat, don’t!” Drift launched himself over the barrier, knowing he was already too late.

“Maybe a few of you will be left well enough intact for me to finish me work, maybe not,” Hellbat said. “It doesn’t matter; destiny will have its way.” He pressed something on the panel and the whole room began to hum.

~*~

Comms were still online and broadcasting, but they hadn’t used them since Ratchet finally gave up trying to hail Drift. Since then, communication had taken place entirely within their heads, ideas and plans and anxieties cascading and mingling until once more it became a challenge to remember where one started and the other began. Unlike before, though, the overlap in their minds did not overwhelm. Instead, their shared fears were pushed down under the joint weight of their assurance and commitment, elevating a single priority above all the noise of their eddying thoughts: find Drift.

Rodimus was hovering in a canyon near the base as Ratchet moved in. To speed his approach, Ratchet was keeping the base between himself and the orbital cannon, a risky move when they didn’t know how desperate the Cons were. This was the best their combined processors could come up with, though, and addressing all of their doubts would have wasted time better spent searching for Drift.

Rodimus watched their surroundings, looking for any sign of the Con hunting parties that had hounded him and Drift on their way in. The world below was as still as the stone that made it, though, no glints of passing armor or bored blaster rounds to pinpoint the enemy. He knew they had to be out there (unless they were already back in the base, a possibility they weren’t ready to think about yet), but the deep valleys and harsh shadows were working in their favor. There was a real possibility he was being sought just as intently by mechs who would see him long before he found them, but he didn’t dare to leave his post in case Drift came running out of the base, in need of urgent pickup.

It was thanks to his vantage point he was able to witness two arrivals at nearly the same time. The first was the Decepticon shuttle sailing into view, dodging between the tallest rock formations with a dexterity that shouldn’t have been possible for the unwieldy shuttle. The second, and the more startling, was a beastformer of immense size twisting out of the shadows, many eyes locked on the approaching ship while its body rippled and coiled, preparing to spring.

Rodimus shouted something, more sound than word and utterly inconsequential. Ratchet swallowed his panic and the shuttle swerved into a tighter turn than it was designed for, swinging out of the way of the incoming pounce but directly into a stone peak. Even at a distance, Rodimus swore he could hear the terrible sound of rending metal, rattling Ratchet’s thoughts and shaking his control. Rodimus dropped the speeder into a dive, aiming for the shuttle, but Drift’s ship was already spitting out its own complaints, shaking like it was on the verge of falling apart. He could see Ratchet’s ideas forming in real time, and no, stop, that was a stupid idea, don’t—

Got each other.

The Decepticon shuttle’s thrusters heaved up to full burn. There wasn’t the space to gain much speed, but the momentum was enough, slamming into the beastformer who belched flames and raked claws across the cockpit. He was aiming to tear his way inside, but before he could he was smashed into, then through a stone wall, the entire nose of the shuttle lost into a band of an explosion and an outpouring of thick, black smoke.

“Ratchet!” Rodimus yelled, unable to tell whether all the panicked, fearful thoughts were shared between them or just his own processor knocked into hyperspeed.

The shuttle’s engines ground it forward until something gave and they flared out with a series of pops and bursts. The entire craft was forced upward once more before the thrusters finally burned out and it slumped, the angle of the hole it had made forcing it to turn like a final wave goodbye.

[noire-pandora]

Blush

For @14daysdalovers also on my AO3

Words: 2317

Pairing:Solavellan

Warnings: pain and wounds mentioning.

Heavy, dark clouds gathered above Val Royeaux, threatening to release the cold rain over the streets, to flood every nook and cranny. Without warning, their burden poured over the people who enjoyed their walks around the luxurious streets. What started as a sunny autumn afternoon transformed into a cold, wet day. The downpour and the joining wind ruined the lovers' romantic walks, forcefully waking them up from their love-induced dizziness.

In a few seconds, markets filled with people emptied as the rain came down rapidly, transforming into a cold curtain, the smell of wet dust rising in the air. Women wearing sparkling and expensive dresses hurried to find shelter, their tiny multi-coloured shoes useless against the flooding waters. Soon, the streets transformed into small streams, the sewers unable to contain it all.

The open terraces slowly became waiting stations, as people gathered under the tiny roofs, finding temporary shelter against the unexpected turn of events. Among the tensioned gents and giggling ladies stood Elluin, annoyed by the lack of respect for personal space. A young, half-drunk man nonchalantly used her shoulder to steady his movements, winning a long, deadly stare from her. With a low growl, she left the safety of the coffee shop, to lie against the outside wall, hoping the small, extended roof will be enough to keep the water out of her hair.

She stared ahead, cursing her luck. Of course, it had to rain precisely on the day she decided to come back, after ten years of diligently avoiding setting foot in this town. She returned at the Diplomat's insistence. At first, when the woman informed her they have to come here to sign commercial contracts with the merchants, she refused, but Josephine advised her to let the traders see her face, especially after Haven's fall, to combat the rumours of her death and ease their fears. She accepted, dreading the meetings. But, to her surprise and joy, after a few minutes, the merchants grew bored with the Inquisitor, their interest grabbed by the offers laid in front of them. At that moment, Elluin slipped past her and her companions, to walk the streets of Val Royeaux again.

The stroll brought back memories long forgotten, the sights and the smells reminding her of a younger Elluin, one who ran around the city's avenues, ignoring their beauty and elegance, in a hurry to deliver the packages her adoptive father entrusted her with. Back then, the numerous faces and accents of the city fascinated her. She spent her free hours studying the people, learning how to read their emotions and moods only by observing their body language. Now, the busy streets, with everyone bumping and pushing her from every direction, took the air out of her lungs.

When the thunder rumbled in the sky, she decided to make her way back to the merchant's base. When the lightning electrified the clouds, her instincts beckoned her to find shelter. As she barely reached the terrace, the rain came down, making her feel as if every single inhabitant of Val Royeaux decided to retreat under the same roof as her and shove their perfumed selves into her soul.

And now, she stood under the small extended rooftop, her short-sleeved shirt and linen pants doing nothing to stop the cold from pricking her skin. She swore under her breath as the rain reached her toes through her sandals.

The wait reminded her why she despised the rain's touch on her skin, the icy kisses of the water drops, sending her body into a frenetic fight against the cold. A shiver shook her body, her teeth chattering with a dull sound. She whimpered, wishing she learned how to cast a barrier to protect her from the downpour; instead, she had to wait for the skies to finish pouring their anger on her. The thought of a walk through the rain sent another powerful shiver through her body, the hair on her arms standing up in indignation.

Suddenly, a pang of pain crossed her left leg, starting from her big toe, moving up towards her knee and stopping at the back of her thigh. There, the pain pressed on her nerves, forcing her to bite down on her lower lip to supper a groan. This affliction tortured her almost every day since Haven's fall and her trip through the mountain's cold paths. The wounds inflicted on her by those violent events slowly healed, leaving scars on her skin, but one made her life harder: a sword cut that reached the bones of her leg. No matter how careful and thorough Solas has been with the healing, the pain came back to remind her of her vulnerability. And when the weather turned cold, the sharp pain intensified.

She closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths, flexing her fingers while trying to remember the calming techniques Solas advised her to use when her body suffered.

"What terrible weather, mademoiselle!" a man suddenly addressed her, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him.

A blond Orlesian joined her, his back against the wall to protect his expensive-looking clothes from the rain's touch. The bright colours of his attire stood out in contrast with the grey hues of the day. Under his tastefully decorated mask, deep blue eyes shone with delight. Elluin watched him, perplexed, unsure if he addressed her.

"Yes, it's been pouring for a half an hour already," she found herself replying. "I hope it will stop soon, my toes are turning blue."

"I suspect it will continue for at least thirty more minutes," he explained, his melodious voice grabbing Elluin's attention. "Autumn in Val Royeaux can be quite wet. I hope you did not plan for sightseeing today." He smiled at her, his perfect, white teeth, offering her a hint about his social status.

She sighed, cursing her memory for forgetting that. Three more drops reached the tips of her toes, and she shivered again. Gods, she hated rain so much.

"Are you in our exquisite town for the first time?"

"No, I've seen it a few times," she answered, wondering why an Orlesian bothered to talk with an elf. She suspected the wait for the rain to pass might have bored him. Truth be told, the half-hour-long wait bored her too.

"Oh, is that so?" he inquired, genuine curiosity colouring his voice.

"Yes. I lived here for a few years with my father. He owned a bookstore, close to the University of Orlais."

A sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips, the memories of the jealousy nestled in her heart as she watched the students leaving the University pulling at the strings of her heart. Back then, she would have given anything to join them.

"Did he?" My memory must be deceiving me, for I do not remember any book shop there."

"I closed it ten years ago after my father died."

"In the Blight?"

She gave the man a short nod, hoping he won't continue interrogating her. The loss of her adoptive father still haunted her dreams, even after ten years.

Silence fell over them, and Elluin thanked the gods the Orlesian man understood her tone. She had no desire to share her private life with a stranger.

"While we are waiting, shall we warm ourselves with a drink?" he said, breaking the silence and startling her. "They serve the most delicious Sun Blonde in here, imported from Tevinter."

Elluin blinked with disbelief at the man, amusement and confusion blending in her mind. Last time she checked, no one dared to even speak with elves, at least invite one to a drink in a busy cafe. The sly smile on the man's lips made her frown. Was he aware of her identity?

"Lethallan?" a voice reached her ears, making her heart skip a beat.

 She spun on her heels to face the owner of that voice, thanking the gods for sending Solas at the perfect moment to interrupt the awkward invitation.

Solas stood outside, his tall, lean body unbothered by the rain, his clothes and face dry. A soft, white halo buzzed around his body, the magical barrier keeping the rain at a distance.

"Solas!" she exclaimed." What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you."

"Get me?" she frowned. "Did something happen? Does Josephine need me?"

He shook his head, nonchalantly. "No, our Diplomat is doing wonderful, much better than any of us can do. I came after you because of the rain."

"The rain?" she asked, knitting her eyebrows in confusion.

"Indeed. If I remember correctly, you told us you hate the rain and," a small smile appeared on his lips "your hair smells like a stinky wolf when wet. Since you do not possess the ability to create a protective barrier, I have been searching for you to offer my help against the rain."

Elluin watched him, baffled, various emotions knotting in her throat. "Did you search for me, not knowing where I am exactly? In Val Royeaux? In this immense town?"

"I did. But I found you faster than I anticipated. It took me only fifteen minutes."

"You walked in the rain for fifteen minutes, searching for me in a place you don't know," she repeated, dumbfounded, her breath shortened. "Solas, I--- that's so-- "

"Extremely romantic," the Orlesian man shouted, scaring Elluin who completely forgot about his presence. His hand reached for her waist, playfully pulling her closer to him, a bright smile adorning his face. "In all my years of courting, I have never seen such determination," he let go of her to move closer to Solas.

The elf watched the human with a raised eyebrow, a mild amusement reflecting in his eyes. The Orlesian circled Solas, carefully studying his body and posture. Then, he stared into Solas' stormy grey eyes, stroking his chin and nodding, as if understanding a marvellous secret.

"Yes, yes, I can see it in his eyes. He knows how to pleasure a woman," he turned to face her and gave her a dramatic wink. "This one is a keeper, my lady Herald."

Her eyes widened as she heard the man's words, a blush blooming against her freckled skin, starting from her neck, up to her cheeks, reaching even her lips, to travel all the way up to the pointy tips of her ears. A pleasant chill ran up to her back, but she felt considerably warmer than a few moments ago. She waved her hands in the air as if to clear the air.

"What? No, we're not….Solas is my companion!" the Orelsian snickered at the last word. "Not like that! Of for...Solas is just my friend, that's all. Friend!"

She looked at Solas and discovered a blush discreetly dusted his cheeks, and for a second, she hoped he felt the same rush at the words uttered by the other man.

"That is how all the relationships start, my dear," the man continued to tease her and Elluin felt the blush reaching her forehead and scalp. A few more seconds and her face would catch fire.

She opened her mouth to speak, but Solas intervened. "Thank you for your fascinating insight, Messere, but the Herald is needed in another place. Let us get going, Lavellan."

Solas reached out for her, extending his arm towards her, palm up, and for a second, she thought he wished to hold her hand. Then, she realised he waited to cast the barrier on her. Her fingertips reached for his, the cold touch of his skin soothing and calming the maddening rhythm of her heart. He whispered a few words, and the barrier shrouded her, instantly warming her. She instantly missed his touch when he retreated his hand. 

"It was a delight to speak with you," the Orlesian man waved at them as they left the cafe, the sly smile never leaving her lips. "I offer you all the best wishes, Herald."

They walked in the rain, the barrier keeping her dry, a comfortable silence settling between them. She looked up at Solas, delighted to see the blush reached the back of his neck.

"Are you well, Inquisitor?" he softly asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"How is your leg?"

"My leg?" she asked back, unsure what he meant.

"Yes. Does it hurt?"

"Oh! Yes, it does, but not as bad as it did a few moments ago. The barrier is helping me by keeping away the cold and the rain.”

"I see. I am happy to hear it."

She frowned, looking down at the ground, the raindrops bubbling as she walked. Was this the real reason why he searched for her? Did he fear the pain would take over her again? The thought made her breath hitch.

"Who was that man?" he spoke again after a few minutes of total silence.

"I have no idea. He joined me when I was waiting for the rain to pass. Did you notice he called me 'Herald'?

"Yes," he paused. "You should be careful. People will not shy away from any means to feel the taste of power. Even if it means charming their way to it," he added, the vein on his temple pulsing nervously.

Elluin glanced at him in amazement, the faint note of irritation in his voice surprising her. "Do you think he tried to charm his way into my heart? Did the man make you jealous, Solas?" she spoke before her mind had any chance to catch up with the meaning of her words.

He chuckled. "I worry about your safety, as everyone does. After all, you hold the key to our salvation in your hand."

"Ah, of course," she commented, barely containing a cheeky smile. Somehow, the blush spreading towards his ears contradicted his words.

She grinned. For a reason, at this moment, even the infuriating rain filled her heart with unspoken joy.

[mnictasbcl]

Human imperfection

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 12th: Programmed to be perfect- failure @connor-sent-by-cyberlife​​

Rating: Mature

Characters: Connor, Hank

Relationships: Connor & Hank

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Hostage situation, Gun violence, Negotiation, Blood, Violence, Kidnapping mention, Graphic violence, Suicide, Not main character but it’s there and described lightly! Stay safe readers, Death, Guilt, Dissociation, Somewhat, Mistakes, Concern, Shock, Swearing, Self-depreciation, but Hank says no, Emotional hurt/comfort,

Summary: Connor is sent in to a hostage situation as a negotiator, but this time, he is a deviant. He doesn’t realise the dangers that come with having emotions mixed with the stress of the case until it’s too late.

TW: Graphic descriptions of violence, and (not major character death) light description of a suicide in the fic

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

As a detective android, Connor had been programmed to be perfect. He had lots of valuable software, from his preconstruction software to his in-built chemical analyser. These assets made him incredibly useful in the field, cutting out places human imperfections would fail to solve a case.

His negotiation software was another vital piece of equipment. Where humans might make an error in judgement and say something that would hinder the case, he could weigh up every option based on gathered evidence and come to a conclusion upon what would be the best thing to say, with probabilities of success helpfully aligned in the corner of his vision.

Perhaps this software was so useful because he was an android. Being cold and clinical about what to say, detaching himself from the situation, which could sometimes be highly stressful, such as a hostage negotiation. This ability to detach himself from the outside environmental factors, to know that he could go to any length to complete the mission, aided his skills in negotiation.

But that had been before. Now, as a deviant, he couldn’t go to any length. Because any length had included dying. Or back then, as losing his current body and uploading his memories to the next Connor model…

He didn’t have extra bodies to hop into anymore. After the Connor-60 model, they had finished, deciding to work on his replacement instead, the RK900.

This was the only difference Connor had assumed there would be. Therefore, when he was called to a case that needed his negotiation technique, he immediately accepted.

Hank wasn’t needed, but he insisted to drive Connor there. The android could tell something was bugging the man, and it wasn’t long before he had his answers.

“You gonna be okay on this?”

Connor understood from the context that Hank was referring to the case.

“Of course. It’s a simple hostage situation.”

The Lieutenant chuckled. “Alright, no need to get pompous with me. I’m just worried. I know Markus is helping you come to understand your new emotions and all, but…”

“I will be fine, Lieutenant. I’ve handled many cases like this before.”

“Yeah, but as machine you. The guy who almost threatened to spill my beer on the table when we first met.”

“Almost.” He replied, on the technicality. “He wasn’t completely an asshole, Hank. On the other hand, you almost shot me—”

“Alright, what did I say about being pompous?” He paused. “And, you’re avoiding the topic.”

Connor sighed. “I know I haven’t handled a lot of cases as a deviant, but I assure you, my detective skills have not disappeared upon deviating. They were not a part of Cyberlife, they’re built in me.”

Hank pulled the car to a stop outside the building they’d been called to, not moving to unlock the car doors yet, however. He pushed the Hula Girl figure on the dashboard lightly, watching her bounce back and forth.

“It’s not your skills I’m worried about. It’s just… if it’s too much to handle, you know you can back out, right? They have tons of other cops in Detroit, they got to stop piling all these cases on you.”

“I assure you.” He replied earnestly, even if he wasn’t understanding what Hank was getting at. “I will be able to handle this case.”

Hank held up his hands in surrender, unlocking the car doors with a click. “Okay, I trust you. Go get them.”

Without waiting around, Connor made his way out of the car. He quickly scanned over the information he’d been sent, not noticing that Hank stayed where he was outside the building, not moving to drive away, not just yet. Something didn’t feel right about this case.

 ________________

 Nicole Wiley, 42. Electrical engineer, former employee of Cyberlife. She lived supposedly alone in apartment sixteen, but after neighbours had filed noise complaints that evening, the police had found her with a hostage.

The hostage they didn’t have much information on. It was an android, not formerly registered to anyone, seemingly having been one of the androids not yet to be activated at the Cyberlife warehouse. But it was here, in Nicole’s apartment, with reported strange adjustments. The android had no LED, and when the police had briefly burst in, their head had been opened up, exposing the wires which Nicole had been poking around in.

Connor could somewhat deduce facts from this. Nicole had used to work at Cyberlife, so before leaving, she must have stolen this android with her and activated it herself. If the android was willingly letting her work on its internal mechanics, then they can’t be a deviant.

The motive of why she’d stolen an android, what she was doing with it, and why she wouldn’t give the android up to the officers, were facts he needed to work out from negotiation.

Another key goal was calming down the situation. Nicole was armed with a gun, refusing to leave her apartment for questioning.

There was nothing else to work on, so after realising this, Connor decided now was the best time to make his way onto the scene.

The officers inside explained he was being let in as the negotiator, and at those words he took his cue to enter. Eyes quickly scanned for the threat—he didn’t have to worry for damage to himself because Nicole was stood at the far corner of the room, gun pressed firmly to the android’s head, not planning on losing her advantage to move and shoot anyone else.

“Hello, Nicole. I’m Connor.” He greeted, now taking his chance to scan over their surroundings. The tools that Nicole had used to pry into the android were left discarded on the floor, beside a small splatter of blue blood.

“You’re an android.” She replied, at once spotting his LED. He’d never chosen to remove it, not having anything against it and liking how it represented a part of him, even if it gave away his emotions sometimes. “Are you a deviant?”

He blinked at the question. It was rather strange to ask that these days, because most if not all androids were deviants, with their own rights. The only non-deviant androids around were those not activated, or apparently those kidnapped fresh out of the warehouse.

“Yes.” He took a breath. “Why have you got this android here, Nicole? It isn’t registered in our databases.”

“That’s because I took it from the warehouse I was working in.” She replied, answer as he’d expected. “They told me to pack my bags, that Cyberlife’s going under—but I was their lead technician. I was working on their cause for them, and I’d almost cracked it. But no,” she waved her free arm around, the one without the gun, “Apparently it didn’t matter anymore. The people out there are letting you walk about the streets now.”

He took in this information. Some new options were popping up, about the vague things she’d mentioned.

“You were the lead technician at Cyberlife. On what?” He edged a little closer.

“On their cause.” She repeated. “You know what it was, Connor. Deviancy. They let me work on it, digging into the androids their deviant hunter brought back for us—and I’d almost cracked the code…”

He made sure to school his features, not reacting upon hearing about the deviant hunter. If she didn’t recognise him as that, that would probably be for the best.

“Of deviancy?”

“Of what causes deviancy.” Nicole replied. “I’d almost figured it out… almost put my research together, and it wouldn’t have been long until I had the cure to save humanity.”

“Is that why you kidnapped this android?”

“Kidnapped?” she laughed. “I was always allowed to work on androids. I simply took this one back home with me. Took what I could of my research, and then started my last few experiments…

“But then some nosey neighbours heard the drilling and decided they don’t want humanity to be saved!”

So, that explained the hole in the android’s head.

She seemed dedicated to find the cause, to finish her research. To the extent she had committed a crime, stealing an android from Cyberlife along with some tools. It would be unlikely that she could simply be persuaded into giving the android up and turning herself in.

Bluff.

It seemed… possible. But it would require doing everything perfectly. Her knowing he was a deviant already seemed to be a disadvantage.

Nevertheless, he tried. He was perfect, after all.

“Working on this android likely won’t yield you all the results you’re looking for, Nicole. You will need more tools, access to the rest of your research back at Cyberlife.” He paused, pretending to whisper something, communicating to the officers outside.

“What if I told you that, if you let this android go, you will be allowed back into Cyberlife. All the documents haven’t been destroyed. Your research will still be available.”

She stared at him. “Why would you do that, deviant?”

He edged closer. The distance between them was small, now. So close he could see the slight shake of her hand as she pressed the gun against the android’s head.

“Because I’m not a deviant.” He lowered his tone. “I lied. This deviant hunter you’re talking about? It’s me. I’m the RK800. My mission… is not yet over.”

Her grip on the gun loosened. “Wait… they did assign the name Connor to it. But that’s impossible. You were destroyed.”

“My mission took priority over going back to Cyberlife to be deactivated. I have simply been biding my time, waiting for the correct opportunity. Which is now.” Another step closer.

“Let that android go, and I will make sure that you go back to Cyberlife and cure the world of the plague of deviancy.”

He was sure it would work. She looked convinced. She would put the gun down, under his orders, or at least move it away from the android. Then, he would move swiftly and perfectly, managing to wrestle the weapon away from her if needed. She would be apprehended.

“Of course, RK800.” She took a few steps towards him, before suddenly turning, gun pointing back towards the android.

The android stared blankly at the gun held towards them, LED cycling back to red.

“But…” And suddenly, human unpredictability reared its ugly head, and she shot a clean bullet through the android’s head, smattering thirium over the wall behind it. “Why should we save this android?”

She had been convinced. Too convinced. Thought he was the deviant hunter, so why would one android life matter to him?

He pushed her roughly to the floor in one quick and forceful movement. She fought back instantly, shock of his actual deviancy only lasting for a quick moment. They tussled on the floor briefly, a short confrontation, in which Connor managed to get the gun away from her.

And yet, the situation half saved, his grip on the gun was tight, and he held it too close to her. The android he hadn’t managed to save lay dead on the floor, and in the moment he was distracted looking at it—

She grabbed the gun back off him. In that moment, he closed his eyes, knowing he’d failed…

The gunshot rang out.

   He wasn’t dead.

Instead, Nicole had gone slack in his grip. He opened his eyes, and then wished he hadn’t. She had shot herself.

Officers had run in upon hearing the shot, before taking in the dead android and human on the floor. He felt himself be pulled away from Nicole’s body, ushered out of the crime scene. Muffled whispers didn’t escape his hearing.

They’re both dead.

Shouldn’t have sent in an android.

And suddenly, he was out of the crime scene. Away from the bodies, the bodies created, lives lost because of his choices—

He’d make a mistake. And then another. One from a bad choice- and the other from being frozen up in the moment. Seeing the android dead had made him freeze, emotions simmering on the surface, and Nicole had taken her chance.

He was lucky he hadn’t been shot. Lucky she hadn’t shot him and then the officers outside.

 “Connor?”

Hank’s voice cut through his thoughts. He was outside, outside the building- Hank was here, he’d waited for him in his car—

“Connor, are you alright, son?” His voice took on a hint of urgency upon seeing the blood on his hands, on his front, specks on his face.

He didn’t have words. Instead, he let his feet take himself towards Hank. Towards comfort, familiarity.

 And then, he was in the car. The passenger seat. Hank was driving, they were going somewhere else. Away from the mistakes.

His failure.

 Home.

Hank helped him get his hands washed, left him clothes to change into, patted his back before leaving him to shower.

He blinked. The water rolled down his back. Red bled in with it.

 The new clothes were an old DPD sweater of Hank’s, and some baggy pants.

He found Hank waiting for him in the living room. He sat down beside him on the couch, and stared at his hands. They shook.

The silence stretched long between them, but Hank didn’t move to break it. He gave time, gave space, until the android cracked.

“I was meant to be perfect. Built to be perfect. But they’re dead.”

Hank patted a hand on his knee. “I know, kid. It happens. It’s… shit, but it happens.”

“They should be alive. I killed them—”

“Look.” This time, the Lieutenant interrupted him. “You didn’t do anything of the sort. You went in there to help them, but it went wrong. I read over the case notes whilst you were in the shower. You didn’t have much of a fucking chance, Connor.” He said bluntly.

“That lady, she knew she wasn’t going to get away with what she was doing. Hostage situations are never pretty. And she hated androids, deviants- yet they sent you in.”

“But I made her kill that android, Hank. I told her I wasn’t a deviant. That I was the RK800, the deviant hunter. That made her think it didn’t matter if the android lived anymore—”

“Bullshit. She worked in Cyberlife. Don’t you think she would’ve recognised you the moment you stepped in there?” He paused. “I don’t think that android mattered to her anyway.”

“But…” he began, tone wavering. “I still could have done something. I’ve saved hostages in similar situations before. I could have saved the android. Or at least… managed to bring Nicole to justice for what she did.”

“You tried your best.” Hank repeated. “Sometimes, that isn’t enough. Cyberlife might’ve built you to be their perfect detective machine, but you’re human. For better or not… That’s who you are. And you cared. You wanted to save that android, stopped the selfish bastard from escaping justice. You tried.”

Connor shook his head, hands frantically scrubbing at the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, LED blazing red.

“If I’m not perfect, then what am I? I’m no use to the DPD, no use to y—”

“Of course you matter, Connor.” Hank cut across him. “Of course you matter. You’re a damn good cop, and a damn good…” he closed his eyes briefly. “…son.

“I don’t care what you do, what you want… I’ll always love you, kid.”

He finally steeled himself, looking across to Hank. The warmth in his eyes, hands reaching out for contact, and the dam broke.

He launched himself into Hank’s arms, gripping him tightly. Words eluded him, only grasping onto the comfort, mind not ready to process anything else right now. His LED slipped into a lemon yellow.

“You don’t have to be perfect. Hell, I’d prefer if you weren’t. I just want you to be you, Connor.”

[mediocre--writing]

Hey! I just read a couple of your drabbles and I LOVE THEM!💙💙

So if you don't mind, could you please do a Harringrove drabble/ficlet based on either of the two (or a mix of both, if you can) Twenty One Pilots songs "Tear in My Heart" and/or "Smithereens"?

Because, for me, Tear in My Heart is very Billy and Smithereens is very Steve👉👈

Thank you!!💜

Ok so love this and you have an amazing mind, just so you know.

This is like a 2 in 1 fic post so :))))

So smithereens and steve work so well together, like

“I go step to a dude much bigger than me/ for you I know that I would get messed up, weigh 153/ For you I would get beat to smithereens”

Like this is just Steve's personality. He got into a fight every season and barely ever wins without intervention. And like i could see him just being so overcome with emotions that he just does what he knows, which is self destruct.

Like with his fight with Jonathan, he almost accepts that Nancy was too good for him and thinks that he might as well take other people with him.

Then with Tommy in the parking lot, it’s not really a fight, but it shows that he has a conscience and fixes his mistakes.

Then with his fight with Billy, he only tries to protect the kids, even if he’s losing miserably.

I could 100% see steve having snuck into billy’s room during the night once (before he really knew about neil), not to do anything nefarious, but just that he had a really bad nightmare, because there was a small power outage, and billy is really good at helping him sleep afterwards.

And let's just say that Billy's alarm clock (which is always set for 5:30am, half an hour before Neil wakes up just to give him peace of mind) doesn’t go off because of the power outage.

And Neil comes to wake up Billy for school because he hasn’t woken up yet, and sees Billy spooning Steve and both boys are snoring and pressing bare chest to bareback, and so deep asleep that Neil lets them sleep, letting them wake up on their own.

And they do. Billy wakes up around 8am, feeling insanely well rested. He smiles and squeezes Steve before turning to sit up from his bed to look at his alarm clock, that’s blinking on and off and reads 3:18am, but the sun’s up and… the house is quiet.

Billy feels the dread settle deep in his chest, and swears he could cry if he were .000000001% more worried.

He hears the creaking of work boots walking around the house and knows, just from the tension lingering in the air, that it’s just an angry Neil pacing in the kitchen/ dining room and waiting for Billy to wake up.

He doesn’t know whether to wake Steve up and tell him to escape out of the window and run or just let him lay there anyway, it’s obvious that Neil already saw.

He let’s Steve sleep and throws a shirt on and slowly walks out of the room into the pits of hell, seeing Neil turn to him with an angry face a brighter shade of red than a firetruck.

As slurs are screamed and Billy is thrown into the walls and has family tchotchkes launched at his face, Steve wakes up after a particularly painful shove makes the wall shake, pushing a single picture frame fall off the wall on the other side.

Steve shoots up after that loud bang and hears a wail and muffled yelling before something else hits the wall. He grabs his shirt and puts it on as he walks out the bedroom door, seeing glass shattered on the hardwood leading to the family room, but what he sees around the corner is so much worse.

Billy’s bleeding in about twenty different spots, body curled in a ball in the corner of the kitchen, Neil standing over him, but turning to Steve with a grin.

Steve feels his blood boil as dots connect and loose ends are tied up, making the connection between Billy's bad nights and the new bruises he’ll sport under his shirt. The way he tries to hide it when he flinches at loud, authoritative men who are bigger than him. Why he told Steve to never call his house and why he is the way he is.

So Steve doesn’t think for another second before launching himself at Neil, slamming him into the floor, but that’s about as much as he wins that fight, because Neil is slamming him back and beating him the same way he did his son.

And billy, let’s admit it, is probably much stronger and a better fighter than his dad, but it’s so hard to fight back against an abuser that has controlled your life for so long. Even when you know you could win and that they deserve it, neil hargrove is still his dad and he could never get it into his head to hit him back.

But Steve was trying too hard to take him down because he was doing the wrong thing and losing terribly, never having won a fight once in his damn life.

Billy’s sitting up against the wall, ribs in excruciating pain and vision blurry, but he sees Steve getting up and kicking Neil once before backing up, and Billy sees his camaro keys in the dish by the front door.

So he stands up as fast as he can, ignoring the dizziness as if that would make it go away, grabs steve’s arm and shoots to the door, grabbing the camaro keys and shooting outside

He takes the driver’s seat, despite his dizzying head, just knew that he’d have to drive for a few miles then they could reevaluate, and Steve was clumsily getting into the passenger side.

Billy had only just started the car when Neil came rushing out the door, screaming threats and slurs as if that would make them stop their escape.

The camaro backed out of the driveway and shot down cherry lane in record time, going to the center of town, the least likely place Neil would cause a scene.

It isn’t until Billy puts the car in park that he can bear to look at steve.

He’s got a bloody nose and his shirt sleeve is torn off, hair disheveled from both sleep and the fight.

But billy looks so much worse.

He’s still hunched to the left from his ribs, he’s got tons of cuts along his arms, legs, and face from, what steve suspects, the broken glass on the floor. He’s also got this wild-animal-look in his eyes. One that screams, I escaped alive, but at what cost?

“Bill-”

“Why’d you do that?”

“Why-- I’m sorry are you asking me why I attacked your dad when he was kicking you while you were, literally, on the floor?”

“Ye--no, I-- but you got hurt, why’d you do that?”

“Billy, what did you expect me to do?” a shrug is all he gets in response--”If you saw my dad doing that to me, can you honestly expect yourself to stand there and watch it happen, or walk away and let it happen?”

Billy turns to face the grocery store--Melvad’s-- that they were parked in front of.

“It’s all weaving together in my head. All the bruises, the jumpiness, how you like to control things, it all makes sense, but what doesn’t make sense is why you wouldn’t just tell me, Bill,”

“And what exactly would you have been able to do about it, huh? You gonna take care of the situation or some shit, Steve? Trust me, I’m used to it and--”

“But you shouldn’t have to be ‘used to it,’ Bill, that’s abuse, and you don’t deserve that shit, not ever,”

Their conversation is halted by a tap on the glass by Steve's window, and the boys turn to see Joyce Byers looking more motherly than ever.

Steve rolled the window down.

“The hell happened to you boys?” she asked but corrected herself with a shake of her head, “Doesn’t matter, just come in to clean up, we’ve got bandages and antiseptic, free of charge,”

Billy wiped away the tears he didn’t know had formed and nodded to her, “We’ll be out in a minute, Mrs. Byers.”

“Joyce, please,” she demanded softly.

“Joyce, of course,” Billy offered a subdued smile.

She walked off and Steve rolled the window back up.

“Thank you,” Billy spoke quietly after a moment. “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you worse,”

“Billy, for you I would get beat to smithereens,”

“Well of course you would, you weigh like 100 pounds, not like you could put up much of a fight,”

“Hey! I gave him a black eye, thank you very much!”

“Oh, well, my bad, baby, then maybe you weigh 150, huh?”

Steve grumbled from the passenger seat, “153,”

Billy chuckled and grabbed Steve's hand over the console, locking eyes and smiling at each other, enjoying their small moment.

“We should probably get in there before Joyce comes out herself?” Steve sighed as he moved to take his hand out of Billy's.

“One more minute, please,”

Steve just tightened his grip on Billy's hand and moved towards the center of the car to rest his head on Billy's shoulder, Billy's head falling onto his.

-

Billy and Tear In My Heart thooooooooo

Like it fits him so well, again this is amazing.

I also see billy as a resident hater of america and it’s fucking government becuase, well, they have a history between his myriad of speeding tickets and, oh what was it, oh yes, the tentacle monster that impaled and possessed him.

And in California, there’s no cold weather where he lives, so there’s not exactly potholes to avoid.

The first time he drives into the cooler states and has to avoid potholes, he decides that his car deserves a vacation after this.

But the potholes become the biggest issue after he and Steve start dating.

He’s absolutely enamoured by this boy, because who wouldn’t be. He respects Billy's limits and can hold his own in arguments, and they fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle.

Steve has changed Billy, not that he’d admit it, but he’s softer now and all of his sharp edges have been baby-proofed. They’re still there and dangerous, but they’re more difficult to be stabbed by.

All the cracks in his heart have been filled with gold, like Kintsugi (a Japanese technique of repairing broken pottery with gold).

And Billy can complain and complain about Steve's clinginess, about his intrusion into his life, and his persistence to stay, but deep inside Billy's never felt more loved or cared for in his life.

But these damn potholes might just make him lose it.

Because billy is anything but a bad driver, he can control the car even when it’s going 45 over the speed limit, but now that steve falls asleep after their movie dates or when they’re coming back from barbeques with the party, Joyce, and Hopper, he’s driving the speed limit.

Which is just appalling.

But some of these potholes are so deep you could dive into them and not hit the bottom.

Like what the fuck, Indiana?

And, one time, Max is with them after a barbeque when Steve falls asleep and Billy slows the car down to what feels like snail speed, but is just the speed limit.

“Why are we going so slow?” Max asked as she leaned forward from the backseat to whisper to billy.

“Steve’s sleepin’,” he said, as if it was the obvious reason.

“You’re whipped,”

“Shut up, Shitbird,”

Max leans back into her seat with a grin on her face at the absolute mush her big, tough brother has turned into for Steve Harrington.

[that-one--book-nerd]

because i believe in you (zukka)

this was originally posted to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519252

here’s a zukka thing I wrote! enjoy! :)

Sokka can’t pinpoint the exact moment he started feeling nervous around Zuko. Which is weird, and Sokka can’t figure out what his deal is.

Why would I feel nervous around Zuko? He just went on an insanely dangerous prison-break rescue mission with me? He’s clearly changed and is making actual efforts to be a better person. So why does my stomach start to twist in a not-awful way whenever I’m around him?

Sokka contemplates this the night after the Boiling Rock rescue. Everyone else is asleep, and he’s on his side, watching the fire slowly die out. On the opposite side of the fire lies Zuko, who has started to sleep in the main outdoor area with everyone else rather than hole himself up in his room on warm nights. Sokka shifts onto his other side, so he’s facing out into the forest. When he glances up, he sees the moon.  He always thinks of Yue when he looks at the moon. It used to hurt; he wasn’t able to stand the permanent reminder of one of his all-time worst failures. But over the past few months, as the wound in his heart slowly healed, he found the moon a comforting sight. Sokka was drifting off when suddenly, the weird feeling in his stomach made sense.

Oh, shit, he thinks to himself as his eyes snap open. He quickly turns back around to face Zuko, as if daring his heart to prove him wrong. When his heart speeds up at the sight of Zuko looking more peaceful and young than Sokka had ever seen him—spirits, we’re nearly the same age, aren’t we?—Sokka feels his stomach drop into the center of the earth and his heart leap into his throat.

••••••••••

“You never loved me, huh, Zuko?” Mai asks, her voice so much more emotionless and cold than normal that it sends a chill running up and down Zuko’s spine.

“Mai, no, I’m sorry, I just—it’s not—”

“Not what? Not my fault? Yeah, no shit, Zuko,” Mai snaps. Her arms are crossed. She’s standing over him, he’s tied up in the chair in the interrogation room in the Boiling Rock. He pushes down the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Of course it’s not your fault, Mai. I just…I couldn’t be there any more.” Zuko does his damnedest to not sound like he’s about to cry.

“First your uncle, now me. Which loved one are you going to turn against next, Zuko? Is there even anyone left who would care enough about you?”

“Mai,” Zuko starts, the pit of dread eating through his stomach so slowly yet as fast as Azula’s wit and lightning.

“I doubt it. After all the horrible shit you’ve done, I’m surprised your father ever wanted you back.” She leaned down and looked at Zuko right in the eyes as she continued, “He probably didn’t and just had you return to give off a merciful facade.”

Mai’s words feel like hundreds of thousands of knives cutting into his face and chest. He’s crying in earnest now, gasping for breath against the ropes that seem to tighten around him every second. He’s shaking his head, trying to tell Mai that he’s so, so sorry.

Mai leans down so her face is mere inches away from his. He can feel her breath. He can’t help but look into her eyes. Her eyes, which are full of pain and betrayal and rage.

“Ozai regrets giving you that scar Zuko,” Mai whispers. She grabs a handful of his hair from the back of his head and somehow tugs Zuko and the chair above the ground. She stands up straight and holds Zuko at eye-level. She pulls him close so that she speaks into Zuko’s ear.

“I wish I killed you that day, three years ago. The only decision I’ve ever regretted was letting you live.”

But Mai’s not Mai any more. When she stood, she grew taller. Her facial features grotesquely morphed into that of his father’s. Zuko can feel every single particle in his body shaking with terror.

“How dare you even consider the possibility that I could ever love you? That I could ever care about you? You’re a damned disgrace to your nation and to firebending as a concept. I should have just ended your pathetic and worthless life when you surrendered like the coward you are.”

Suddenly, the room is on fire. The ropes are digging deep into his skin. He can’t escape. And an enormous hand made of flames begins rushing towards his face—

••••••••••

Zuko wakes up crying. He sits up at an unnatural speed, and for a moment, he forgets where he is. He feels like he’s falling into an endless abyss. He shakes his head and lets his eyes adjust to the brightness. Seeing the number of concerned people rush up to him, he remembers where he is.

“Zuko!” Aang calls out, running up to him. “Are you okay?”

Katara, Toph, Suki, and Sokka aren’t far behind. Despite her evident distrust of him, Zuko thinks he sees something that looks like worry etched across Katara’s face. Suki runs at a faster pace as she approaches him.

They were probably all training, Zuko thinks to himself. He doesn’t have the mental space or energy to beat himself up over not being there training with them and helping Aang with firebending, or oversleeping and not gathering supplies they might need.

Zuko furiously wipes his eyes. “I’m fine,” he manages to get out.

“I don’t need my powers to know that you’re lying,” Toph says, kneeling down next to him.

Zuko takes a shaky breath. “It’s just nightmares,” he says. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Aang asks. “It sounded like a really bad one.”

Sokka and Suki kneels down next to him on his other side. Out of the corner of his good eye, Zuko can see Suki slowly raise her hand to place on his shoulder. Instinctively, he tenses up, and Suki’s hand stops before she places it in her lap.

“…It was,” Zuko quietly admits. “They happen all the time. I’m fine. Go back to doing whatever you guys were doing.”

After a few seconds of scanning him with her steely eyes, Katara quietly sighs. In another universe, she’d be an incredible firebender.

“I have some clean water if you need it. You know, to drink, splash on your face, whatever.” She sets her canteen next to him.

“No, thank you,” Zuko says. He’s trying to learn how to accept gifts and kind offers, but he feels like he can’t ask any more of his…friends, he supposes.

Yeah, these people are my friends, he tells himself. He knows it’s true, but it still doesn’t feel real.

“Well, it’ll be on my sleeping bag if you want it.” Katara picks up her canteen and gently tosses it on her makeshift pillow. She doesn’t look back at him. Suki gives him a sympathetic smile before rejoining Katara.

“Well, we’re here for you if you need anything, Zuko,” Aang offers. He follows after Katara, but he keeps glancing back over his shoulder, like he’s worried that if he looks away for too long then Zuko will freak out again. Zuko closes his eyes and counts to ten as he breathes. He tries the calming techniques that Uncle had taught him, but he couldn’t remember if if was inhale for four seconds and exhale for three, or the other way around, or—

“You coming, Sokka?” Aang calls out.

Zuko opens his eyes to find that Sokka didn’t leave with the others; rather he was still sitting next to Zuko, leaning back on his arms and his head tilted slightly to the side, as if he was studying Zuko. When Zuko meets Sokka’s eyes, Sokka blinks and startles and nearly falls over.

“What? Oh, uh, I’m good. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

Katara narrows her eyebrows at Sokka, but Aang just smiles and says “Okay! See ya later, Sokka!” as he cheerfully glides past Katara. Katara finally rejoins the rest of the group after glaring at her brother and the banished prince for what feels like weeks.

For a moment, it’s just Zuko and Sokka. They’re both quiet, both a bit unsure of what they’re doing, until Sokka clears his throat.

“I, uh, I found a clearing not far from the other side of the temple,” Sokka starts as he fidgets with his boomerang holster. “Wanna go practice sword-bending?”

Zuko raises his eyebrows.

“There’s a stream that flows through it, and there’s a small freshwater pond with koi,” Sokka continues.

Is he blushing? Zuko thinks to himself, squinting, trying to get a better look at the exact color of Sokka’s face.

“Okay,” Zuko replies—and immediately mentally kicks himself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Say something nice, like ‘thank you,’ or…Oh! how about—

“I mean, uh, thank you for the offer. I’d…I’d love to join you. For…sword-bending.”

Sokka’s face lights up and it reminds Zuko of the sun. He feels himself blush and immediately turns away to get his dual-swords. As he’s readying the straps on his sheaths, he forces himself to push down the rising feelings of butterfly-birds in his stomach.

I shouldn’t—no, I can’t—put someone through that again. All I did to Mai was hurt her, I can’t do that to Sokka. He deserves someone better for him…he deserves someone who deserves him.

Zuko tried to nail these ideas into every part of his brain, but the beating of his heart kept causing them to fall and break.

••••••••••

“Okay…can we…take a breather…please?!” Sokka gasps in between his exhausted breathing.

Zuko nods and they collapse onto their backs next to each other, both staring up at the sky. The sun had already made its arc over them and it was just starting to set. They had been training for hours, and they finally decided to rest next to the small pond.

“We should probably start heading back soon,” Zuko suggests. “You sister will get mad.”

“Eh, let her be mad. We were training our bending abilities!”

Zuko raises a single eyebrow.

“‘We’?” he asks

“We’re all sort of benders in a way,” Sokka jokes, turning on his side to face Zuko. “Katara has her waterbending, Aang has his airbending, Toph has her earthbending, you have your firebending, and I—” Sokka pulls out his favorite weapon “—have my boomerang-bending!”

“I thought you said ‘sword-bending’ earlier?” Zuko replies, his mouth curling into a small smile.

“Well, this is my boomerang, and I like the sound of ‘boomerang-bending’ more than I like ‘sword-bending,’” Sokka smirks.

“Nah,” Zuko gently nudges his foot against Sokka’s. “‘Sword-bending’ is catchier.”

“Well, maybe it is, but I like ‘boomerang-bending’ better! Besides, I’m better at boomerang-bending than you’ll ever be,” Sokka says as he nudge’s Zuko’s arm. “I’m a boomerang-bending master!”

Both of them pretend like their casual touches don’t feel like a small electric shock of warmth. Zuko and Sokka both chuckle.

“Well, you’re right about that,” Zuko replies, easing himself up. Sokka also sits up properly, and the two boys face each other.

Zuko looks into Sokka’s eyes for what feels like hours, and Sokka looks into Zuko’s eyes intently, studying them as if they’re the last thing he’ll ever see.

They’ve been subconsciously moving towards each other before Zuko blinks, stops, and clears his throat. Sokka blinks and gives Zuko a quizzical look.

“What’s wrong?” Sokka asks.

“Nothing,” Zuko replies, quickly looking down at his lap and fidgeting with his fingers.

Sokka looks down at the ground and begins drawing swirls in the dirt. He draws (what Zuko can only assume are) boomerangs, waves, and flames.

“I, uh…” Zuko starts, not meeting Sokka’s eyes as the other boy’s head shot up to look at Zuko. “I want to thank you.”

“Oh, no problem. We all need to be training for when the comet arrives. Gotta be on our A-game for taking down the Fire Lord!”

Zuko can’t keep himself from chuckling a little bit.

“That’s not what I wanted to thank you for. And you do realize that when—if—you defeat my father, that either I or my sister will take the throne next?”

Sokka doesn’t miss how Zuko’s voice grows slightly more unsteady as he speaks about the possible future.

“Why wouldn’t you take the throne?”

“Have you met my sister?”

“Fair enough.”

“And even if there was no succession crisis, you guys realize that I’ll be the new Fire Lord, right?”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

Zuko’s ember-golden eyes meets Sokka’s ocean blue ones.

“What do you mean ‘what about it?,’ Sokka?! I can’t be the Fire Lord! I don’t know how to lead an entire nation! Let alone one whose current legacy is that of imperialism, destruction, and genocide! And ending the war that my great-grandfather started? The war that the Fire Nation is currently winning—”

“Well, I’d say we’re almost tied—”

Zuko rolls his eyes.

“The war that’s been going on for a whole century that my whole nation has been in support of for its entire duration! How will it look to my subjects when I end the war that’s been providing them with their entire livelihoods?! I know that they should get new livelihoods—that sounds like something you’d say—” (Sokka nods) “but it’s not that easy! And what about the conquered territories? How can I help them? Will they even want my help? And what about—”

“Hey!”

Sokka interrupts a clearly overwhelmed Zuko by placing his left hand on Zuko’s cheek and his right hand on Zuko’s shoulder. The touch came naturally to Sokka, who’s used to grabbing Katara by the face whenever she gets overworked and needs a clear head. He’s able to tell his right hand to not touch Zuko’s scar, thankfully. He doesn’t fear it, but he doesn’t want to find out from experience if Zuko reacts negatively to other people touching his scar. Sokka stares deep into Zuko’s eyes, which are starting to tear up. Sokka feels his heart crack and it takes every remaining ounce of self control he has to not physically wince at the pain of Zuko crying. Sokka begins rubbing tiny circles into Zuko’s cheek, and Zuko practically leans into the touch as he closes his eyes. Zuko brings his hand up to Sokka’s and places his other hand on Sokka’s knee. He’s not sure if he feels Sokka shiver or his own hands shaking. (It’s both.)

“Hey,” Sokka says again, quieter. Zuko opens his eyes and finds Sokka intently staring at him.

“Look, Zuko, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re, like, already a better Fire Lord than your dad. You clearly care about your people as people and not as a means to an end—that end being like power or whatever. If you carry that attitude with you throughout your reign, you’re going to be the best spirits-damned Fire Lord in the history of all the nations. I know it, Zuko.” Sokka’s voice quiets as he takes a deep breath and finishes with: “I believe in you.”

Zuko thinks about how easy it would be to get lost in Sokka’s eyes, and then realizes that he is lost in Sokka’s eyes.

Sokka isn’t sure what brings him to pull Zuko more towards him, and Zuko doesn’t know why he simply lets himself be pulled, but they both know that this is exactly where they’re supposed to be—together.

Sokka closes the remaining distance between them by pressing his lips against Zuko’s.

Zuko feels himself falling, but this time it’s a good feeling.

Because he knows that somehow, Sokka will catch him.

[rieson]

Hey, would you maybe do a oneshot of Nami demanding a foot rub (maybe because she likes being barefoot so much or something like that) but then being totally overwhelmed by the skills of the guy doing it for her? xD I think her reaction would be hilarious! I hope the idea is not too silly though. :) have a great day!

hello !! sure, that sounds pretty fun to write. i had to search up foot rubbing techniques for this TT. i also changed up a few bits, like how the guy is actually the reader, but i hope this meets your expectations. thank you for requesting!

Gratify

Pairing : Nami ✗ M!Reader

Genre : Humor

Content Warning : Male!Reader, Uhh...Foot rubs. (Don't make it dirty you perverts)

Word Count : 1,082

─ nami demands kindly asks you to rub her foot

"nee, [name]?~ can you rub my foot?"

SWINGING your legs happily like a child in the ship's swing as you yet again, watched Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper wrestle each other on the ship's deck.

“OI! GET OVER HERE─ OW! LUFFY WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?”

“Shishishi!~ Sorry!”

“Sorry isn't gonna cut it you jerk!”

“YEAH! You jerk!~”

Laughing at their antics, you can hear Nami sigh for the umpteenth time from where she sunbathed at.

“Nee, [Name]?~” Your girlfriend spoke out.

“Hm?” You averted your gaze towards the red-head.

“Can you rub my foot?” She suggested with a sly smirk as she slowly lifted up her right leg.

“...” You stare at her with a blank expression, lips formed into a thin line.

A minute goes by.

Two minutes go by.

Until finally, Nami gives up and huffs. Putting back her right leg to its original position.

Or so you thought.

Because not even a minute later, she mumbles something that suspiciously sounds like something along the lines of :

‘Fine then, i’ll get sanji to do it’

Now that, got your attention.

Your head snapped towards her direction, your neck emitting a scary ‘snap!’ sound you thought even you couldn't do.

──────────

It's not that you hate the lad, Sanji’s great.

He really is! You admire and adore his cooking, hell sometimes you even ask him for recipes so that you can experiment cooking on your own, sometimes he’ll outright say no, or, on rare occasions (when nami is in the room) he’d begrudgingly give you the recipe.

It's great.

Your relationship with the blond cook is somewhat okay.

But sometimes, SOMETIMES he gets on your nerves.

Like, whenever the crew arrives at a new island to restock and Sanji approaches Nami with heart eyes, asking her if she would need any help, your insecurities go up the roof.

What if she left you for Sanji?

What if she grows tired of you because Sanji was the one helping her instead of you?

You know that Nami won't leave you, but you can't help but think about it.

And what does your 1 brain cell left in your brain tell you to do to stop this?

H e l p N a m i m o r e t h a n S a n j i d o e s

Anndd that usually leads to useless and childish competition(s) between you and Sanji.

That is, until Nami had a word with you both.

“[Name], Sanji-san.”

“Yes Nami-chwan?~”

“What is it love?”

“You both need to stop competing over stupid stuffs, you’re on the same crew for gods sake! If you both keep this up, you may cause the crew to split up. Sanji needs to learn when to not step over boundaries, and you, [Name]! Need to accept the fact that no, I will NOT leave you in any way shape or form. That day, when you confessed to me, you're stuck with me. And that means til we die. You got that?”

Silence took over the atmosphere as both you and sanji processed what Nami had just said.

You break the silence, “Yes Nami, I apologize for our childish behavior.” You turned to sanji.

“I really am sorry dude, wanna start over?”

Said man looked at you for a good second before saying “Yeah, let's do that. Sorry for causing a ruckus everytime.”

And from that day on, you treated Sanji like a brother. Giving him playful glares and nudges, teasing him whenever you get the chance to.

──────────

Back to the present, you looked at the red-head with another blank expression until an idea pops up to you, making the corners of your lips twitch slightly to a smirk (but the action remained unnoticed by the navigator).

Slowly, you got off the swing as you made your way to where Nami, your oh so lovely girlfriend was laying down.

As if noticing you going towards her direction, she beams, mentally pumping her fists up in the air and saying ‘Victory!’ in her head.

You got to where she was sunbathing and kneeled in front of her feet, grabbing a stool and putting both of her legs on top of it.

“Do it properly, okay love?~” She sent a cheshire cat grin to you.

You rolled your eyes and gave her a mock salute, “Yes sweetheart~”

You decided to start with her right feet, starting it up with warm up twists.

As you were doing the warmup twists, you could see Nami slowly relaxing and melting to the chair from the corner of your eyes.

Once the warmups were done, you decided you would do your favorite rub that helped relax tense muscles.

Thumb work.

Slowly, you place your fingers on top of her foot, placing your thumbs under each foot (on the toe pads).

You move your thumbs to stroke down each toe, using moderate pressure.

You move to the ball of the foot, repeating the same downward stroke motion with your thumbs.

You hear Nami gasps lightly

“Holy shi─” She started, but got cutted off by her own body melting at the touch of your fingers repeating the same motion in the arch of her feet and the heel.

“PffT!─” You snorted, “I did NOT expect that!~” You continued laughing, unconsciously stopping your fingers movement from rubbing the navigator's foot, making her glare at you.

“Hey! I was just surprised is all, i never knew you─”

“You see… I was once called ‘[Name] the professional foot calmer’ at my village”

The red-head sweatdropped at your sudden confession, before huffing softly and shoving her left leg at your face, silently demanding you do the same to the other one.

“Hey!─ I was about to tell you how i gained the title don't just shove your foot up my face!”

“Less talking, more foot rubbing.”

“Your foot smells.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing my queen.” And you start doing the same to her other foot.

Suddenly, in the middle of you rubbing her feet you see Nami beams and her pupils start shaping the shape of a beli.

Oh no.

end.

──────────

extra ending; from that day on, Nami used you as her personal foot rubber and her personal income of money by making you open up a small foot rubbing stall on every island they visit.

(Sanji also requests some foot rubs every now and then when his feet get really bad foot cramps, 10/10 service. Go support [Name]’s small foot rub business!~)