#boy i've missed this tagging system

[heffrondriving]

this is how i'm gonna fucking die i think

[tmae3114]

*skids into the room and slams a folder down on the table*

SINCE I AM HAVING TIMELINE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS AGAIN, I WANNA ELABORATE ON A THING FROM MY DIAGRAM OF THE MQ/DF/RESET SITUATION BECAUSE IT IS BOUNCING AROUND MY HEAD AND I WANNA INFODUMP ABOUT THIS SPECIFIC ELEMENT OF THIS ABSOLUTE MESS OF A TIMELINE SITUATION (AFFECTIONATE)

SO

I specified in my diagram that “before the Reset is inaccessible by standard means of time travel”. I wanna elaborate on that because I have EXAMPLES. I hope you’re ready to learn precisely how we know that for certain.

1. Clarification of Terms

Okay, so, to be entirely and fully clear here, when I say “before the Reset is inaccessible”, I am referring to intra-timeline time travel. Meaning, from within a Dragonfable timeline, it is impossible to access the Mechquest timeline which became that Dragonfable.

I say “a” because the Artix Entertainment multiverse is A Mess and we know that there are a ton of different versions of all of these timelines. Not only does The Inn At The Edge Of Time tell as much in-game in Dragonfable but AdventureQuestWorlds (relevant here bc we are discussing multiverse) is canonically a result of DF, AQ, and MQ timelines getting merged into one and we know that those timelines all still exist outwith AQW’s existence. For every version of the DF timeline that exists, there is a MQ that preceded it.

However, for sake of clarity, I’ll be using “the” to refer to the DF timeline for the rest of this post, because even if these factors almost certainly apply to all the timelines in terms of mechanics, I am specifically working with The Actual Timeline We Have Experienced (i.e. canon Dragonfable)

The effects of the Reset are, to use a term that @cyraen-ae reminded me exists, retrocausal. If you were to, say, travel back in time five thousand and one years from A Hero Is Born, you would not find yourself in MQ a year before the Reset happened, you would find yourself five thousand and one years in the past of DF. Thus, “before the Reset is inaccessible via intra-timeline time travel in a DF timeline”. (That is too many uses of time related terms right next to each other. I’m going to just say “intra-timeline travel” after this.)

Hopefully that’s clear because I am now moving on to THE EXAMPLES.

We have three specific quests which I will be pointing to today. They are Yulgar’s First Date, Frostval 2014 - A Tale of Two Timelines, and CyseRedux.

2. Intra-Timeline Travel Cannot Access Pre-Reset

We know this because we see it happen.

Hello, Yulgar’s First Date, thank you so much for serving as proof here, I love you for giving us a solid canon example of how this works.

So, during the events of Mechquest, the hero is fully grown. Whether they’re in their late teens, early twenties, or older than that, it doesn’t really matter. The signficant detail is that they are clearly and visibly Not A Child. The hero had a childhood in the MQ timeline and was Not A Child at the time of the Reset. They are Not A Child in the fixed point in time. The hero enters the DF timeline as Not A Child and, if we looked at this purely linearly, was never a child within DF.

But! As mentioned earlier, the Reset was retrocausal. The hero did have a childhood that, as far as they or anyone else can know, they experienced in the DF timeline.

In Yulgar’s First Date, Cysero gives the hero some Time Cake to allow them to travel twenty years back in time. This also equips the Kid armour. While it’s possible that this is a random side effect (it is Cysero, after all), Occam’s Razor would suggest that this is just the age the hero was twenty years ago.

And since we know that the Reset took five thousand years to complete and only ended at the start of Book One, we know that this specific point in time is one in which the Reset would have been on-going, if it were accessible.

So! Intra-timeline travel cannot access the Reset or reality as it existed before it.

3. Wait, But Then, What About The Times MQ Did Show Up Via Time Stuff?

I’M GLAD YOU ASKED. THE ANSWER IS SHENANIGANS.

To be specific, the two instances in which MQ related stuff shows up from Time Stuff are instances of non-standard time travel. One is explicitly inter-timeline (multiple timelines are involved) and the other is...... Cysero Did It (and is also inter-timeline. They are both inter-timeline. Though the inter-timelineness of the latter may not be relevant.)

So, A Tale of Two Timelines. The Artix of an AQW timeline (we do not know if he was canon AQW) got a wand off of a Time Travel Fairy and promptly started trying to bring different timelines together so all the heroes could hang out at Frostval. He also destabilised a bunch of timelines because he was merging them together. During these timeline merges, a bunch of MQ stuff showed up, including various characters having elements of their MQ appearances for periods of time.

However, as established, this was a case of timelines being merged together and, also as established, there is more than one MQ timeline.

Therefore, this was not the before-the-Reset of the Dragonfable timeline being brought forth but rather a separate MQ timeline being brought in.

And that brings us to CyseRedux, in which Sys-Zero shows up in person and shares a bunch of nods with Cysero. This would suggest that they are aware that they are the same person. However, this quest also features Blatant Breaking Of AE Multiversal Rules and Four Other Cyseros, so there’s A Lot Going On.

So. Here’s the thing. CyseRedux features DF Cysero, AQ Cysero, AQW Cysero, Sys-Zero, and Actual Real Life Staff Cysero In A Background Cameo.

It is explicit AE Multiverse Lore that there cannot be more than one instance of a person in a timeline at a time. If you jump to another timeline, your counterpart gets yanked to your timeline until you return. This comes up in A Tale of Two Timelines, for a DF source, but also comes up in the AQW Mirror World plotlines.

CyseRedux is a case of Cysero blatantly and flagrantly breaking this rule. Because Cysero gets to break any and all rules of reality as he wishes and it’s great.

Which means that we have two options here. The AQ and AQW Cyseros are from other, separate timelines. So it would be logical that the Sys-Zero who shows up is also from a separate MQ timeline. However, he could be from the DF timeline’s pre-Reset MQ, without it presenting a problem to the impossibility of intra-timeline travel across the Reset, because Cysero is already breaking the rules.

4. Conclusion

I just infodumped to you for over a thousand words about timeline mechanics in a bunch of indie flash-based video games and it is currently past four in the morning in my timezone. I have Special Interest Brain so badly.

[kimkaelyn]

Ditto [s. todoroki]

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝒾���� 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒, 𝒟𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓃𝑜 𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒, 𝒮𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉, 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀, 𝑜𝒽 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜 — 𝒟𝒾𝓉𝓉𝑜, 𝒩𝑒𝓌𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈

→ summary: when you transferred to U.A., you didn't anticipate slipping on a pair of chopsticks in the middle of the crowded cafeteria during your first week. however, what was more surprising was the unexpected fall for the boy who gracefully caught you.

→ pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader

→ genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers

→ word count: 13.1k

→ warnings & tags: sfw, female pronouns are used, usage of y/n l/n, Class 1-A are now third-year students aka 18+, swearing, the usual U.A. chaos, reader has a Quirk, misunderstandings, some training violence, minor injuries, mentions and discussions of insecurities, aizawa briefly belittles the reader as a form of motivation, beginnings of a panic attack but it's cut short, there is one instance of the reader appearing to be ‘flushed’ in regards to a fever, since this is my first bnha fic some characters might be ooc? | please kindly let me know if I missed any tags!

→ author's note: AHHHH HERE IT IS! I've been working on this for almost a year now and I am so excited to finally share it with all of you. Honestly, I didn't think I would ever finish this story, but I kept slowly chipping away at it thanks in part to the encouragement from @andypantsx3, @missrosegold, and @getstarried. Special thanks to @pikatsum for beta-reading this for me! Thank you girls. This is for you🫶🏻

The cafeteria at U.A. High School was a pretty chaotic environment, you quickly learned within your first week after transferring from another Hero Course in the countryside. There were multiple things that could and would happen after the famous students had gotten some much-needed nutrients in their systems.

It was only three days into the school year and nothing had happened just yet, but in the U.A. world, that something was overdue.

The first chaotic event of the year that everyone had been anxiously—or in some cases, excitingly—waiting for happened on Thursday.

The day started off average; you got to school with three minutes to spare, which was a new record, but you had forgotten your pencil pouch in your dorm room, so you had to borrow some pencils from a girl who sat in front of you; Mina Ashido.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you took the pastel pink utensil from her. There was even a cute little fluffy puffball at the end in exchange for an eraser. Good thing you had an eraser in your bag.

“No problem! I gotcha!” She physically lit up and gave you a bright smile before turning back to focus on the blackboard.

You somehow managed to get through your morning classes running on the four hours of sleep you got the night before. You were cutting it quite close to passing out at your desk during calculus class, but you were saved by the lunch bell.

As soon as you stepped foot into the hallway, you were wrapped up in the faint, delicious scent of your favorite food coming from the cafeteria. Your mouth instantly watered, and you made a mad dash for the source of the delicious scent.

“Hey!” a sharp voice made you freeze in your steps. You glanced over your shoulder to find Tenya Iida, Class 3-A’s representative, glaring at you. The light reflecting off his glasses made him appear more threatening than he really was, but regardless, you still found yourself shying away from his harsh glare and rapid-moving hands. As they passed by, some students gave you apologetic smiles while others were not shy about openly staring at the scene before them, wondering what you possibly could have done to induce the wrath of the student representative. “There is to be no running in the halls!” You cowered some more at his brisk and overly formal tone.

Geez, what a stuck-up, you thought to yourself.

“My apologies, Iida.” You respond with a bow. He accepted your apology with a curt nod before he continued on his way to the cafeteria.

You waited for him to pass before rising from your bow. “Wow, he makes it feel like I broke the law or something.” You mused aloud.

“Don’t take it personally,” a comforting voice said from behind you. You turned to find Momo Yaoyorozu, Ochako Uraraka, and Tsuyu Asui standing before you. Ochako gave you a slight wave in greeting. “Iida can be quite demanding,” Yaoyorozu reassured you.

“Thank you.”

Tsuyu regarded you with gentle onyx eyes. “It’s L/N, right?”

You smiled, happy that she remembered your name from roll call. “Y-yeah! I’m Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I, um, already know who you guys are.” You suddenly felt shy, and you bashfully rubbed the back of your neck out of nervous habit.

Before your transfer was finalized, you did extensive research into your future school’s history and future classmates. Thankfully—or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it—a lot of information is public knowledge; the various attacks on the school in the year leading up to and the conclusion of the War between the Paranormal Liberation Front and the Heroes, not to mention the various televised sports festivals, and the fact that the members of Class 1-A are practically household names even before their graduation.

The girls invited you to sit with them in the cafeteria. You had been keeping to yourself the first few days of school, choosing to observe from afar the already established social circles and friend groups. You had waited for an invitation to join one of said groups, and here was your opportunity.

The four of you made small talk as you made your way through the lunch line and to the table. Right away, Asui told you to call her by her given name. You told them about your life growing up in the countryside—with you and Uraraka bonding over your shared reason for becoming Pro Heroes—about the friends you had, embarrassingly funny stories from your junior high days, and eventually what led you to transfer to U.A.

“Well, this is the best Hero Course in the country!” you all laughed. “But to be frank, the only teacher at my old academy who could handle my Quirk retired, and none of the other academies within the prefecture had the resources to help me advance. Plus, my mentor is an U.A. alumnus, so naturally, the only other choice was U.A.”

Yaoyorozu hummed. “It is a shame about your mentor retiring, but that is what led you to transfer to U.A., and for that, I am grateful.” The class vice representative regarded you kindly. “I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason, and your transfer doesn’t change that.”

Uraraka nodded her agreement. “Momo’s right. U.A. is a place where anybody can make a difference, and I think you will find success here.”

You were rendered speechless. The tips of your ears turned red as your classmates regarded you with so much hope and sincerity in their eyes. “Uh . . . I,” you bashfully scratched the back of your head. Not knowing how to respond, you instead reached for the small bottle of milk on your lunch tray and brought it to your lips.

However, before you could take a sip, a BOOM erupted from the front of the cafeteria, accompanied by a gruff voice yelling, “Don’t walk in front of me, Icy-Hot!” You reflexively jolted at the loud noises and lost your grip on the glass, spilling the half-full bottle all over the front of your uniform.

“Shit,” you exclaimed as you instinctually rose from your seat, only to quickly sit down again when the liquid started to fall to the floor. The girls gasped and were quick to hand you all the napkins in the vicinity.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Asui asked as she watched you pat down your sodden skirt.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You waved off her concern as you continued to wipe away the remaining liquid. The napkins managed to soak up most of it, but your skirt was still damp. If you didn’t change skirts, you were going to smell of milk for the rest of the day, and you didn’t want to start off the school year with a reputation for smelling vile. “I’m going to go back to the dorm really quickly and change into a clean uniform. Please let Mr. Snipe know that I will be late for class.”

“Do you want us to accompany you?” Yaoyorozu asked. She began to rise from her seat, but you stopped her.

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You gave her what you hoped to be a reassuring grin instead of a grimace. “Thank you for offering, Yaoyorozu, but I’ll be fine.” Before your classmates could respond, you stood from the table and made your way to the exit.

Great, this is just great, you thought as you walked, not really paying attention to where you were going. As soon as I make some friends, I make a fool of myself.

Unbeknownst to you, there was an obstacle in the aisle directly ahead. You were too distracted by your growing inner turmoil to notice the pair of metal chopsticks lying on the ground before you until your foot made contact and slipped out from under you.

It all happened so fast that you couldn’t even react.

Time froze as you became weightless, and you felt your body become briefly suspended in the air. Before you could react and rotate your body to prevent yourself from violently banging your head on the tiled floor, gravity took hold and yanked you back down toward the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to witness your classmates’ reactions to your misfortune.

Great, now I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of the entire school. Fuck you, chopsticks.

You prepared yourself for the pain of hitting the hard floor but were shocked when you were suddenly wrapped in a chilled warmth. You did slam into a hard surface, but this didn’t feel like the cold tile you expected.

“Are you all right?” a voice asked from above. You opened your eyes, only to find yourself captivated by a beautiful graphite and turquoise gaze. Your mouth opened to respond to the inquiry, but you couldn’t speak. This strange yet calming gaze hypnotized you, causing the rest of the world to fade into a buzzing silence. You watched as the perfect eyebrows of the owner of those magical eyes furrowed downward at your prolonged silence, the action momentarily drawing your attention.

With your attention span no longer zeroed in on the heterochromatic gaze, the world around you suddenly slammed back into your senses at full force. The volume of your fellow classmates’ conversations was deafening at first, but your ears grew accustomed once again to zone them out and focus on the person before you.

It took about thirty seconds for the entirety of your current predicament to register within your brain.

You were hanging about ten centimeters off the ground. The only thing keeping you upright and injury-free was Shouto Todoroki’s firm grip on your wrist.

“Um, hello?” the dual-haired teenager once again drew your attention to him. His grip slightly tightened before he tugged you up onto your feet.

“I think you broke her, Icy-Hot.” A rough voice drawled from your peripheral.

The intrusion of the other voice is what finally brought you out of your stunned silence. “No, I’m okay. Not broken.”

“Did you hit your head?” Todoroki inquired. He steadied you on your feet but didn’t release your wrist from his hold. Katsuki Bakugou was standing off to the side, trying to appear like he wasn’t involved with either one of you.

“I-I don’t think so.” As you reached down to brush yourself off, you caught a whiff of the unflattering scent of old milk emitting from your clothes. You held back your gag and turned to face Todoroki and Bakugou. “I’m sorry to rush, but I really do need to go.” You gave a quick bow. “Thank you for catching me, Todoroki. Bye!”

The two boys watched you sprint away like a bat out of hell. “T’fuck is her problem,” Bakugou muttered. “Fuckin’ extra makin’ me late for lunch.”

Todoroki didn’t respond to his classmate’s remarks. His lips pursed together as he watched you nearly run into a couple of first years before you disappeared around a corner, out of sight.

“Don’ even think ‘bout it, Icy-Hot.” Bakugou drawled from beside him. Todoroki cocked an eyebrow, the only sign of emotion on his otherwise indifferent expression. “Gettin’ involved with ‘hat extra will ruin your precious bloodline.”

You tried to forget about the cafeteria incident, but the embarrassing ordeal refused to secede from the forefront of your mind. As you lay in bed that night, your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers a minute, antagonizing and overanalyzing every second of what had happened.

As the night dragged on, your thoughts shifted from the overall event to one single individual: Shouto Todoroki. You knew who he was, of course. You didn’t grow up underneath a rock. Yet, you weren’t prepared for how much more handsome he was in person than on the news or in photos.

You overanalyzed everything he did in the brief two minutes you were blessed to be in his company, every word he said, and every brief flash of emotion that showed in his heterochromatic eyes. Todoroki had tried to approach you after training in Ground Beta once you had returned from the dorms, but you avoided him, not wanting to face him again so soon after the embarrassing first meeting.

By Sunday, you had begun to forget about your embarrassing cafeteria incident. Your newfound friends didn’t bring up the spilled milk, and thankfully, they didn’t see you slip on the chopsticks and fall into Shouto Todoroki’s muscular arms. You breathed a sigh of relief when you found out that last part. You didn’t want them to think you were a total klutz.

Todoroki may think otherwise.

As you were rounding the corner to walk back up the stairs to head back to your dorm room, Todoroki happened to be walking down. You both turned at the same time and walked straight into each other.

He wasn’t fazed by the sudden collision; however, you were taken completely off guard. No matter how strong you may be, suddenly walking into about a hundred kilos of pure muscle would make anyone stumble. While he remained steadily standing, you, on the other hand, fell back onto your ass.

It took about three seconds for the two of you to comprehend what the hell had just happened. You groaned out when pain flashed across your backside.

“My apologies, I did not see you.” Todoroki said as he offered you a hand. You begrudgingly accepted his assistance, face heating as your super handsome classmate helped you to your feet for the second time in a week.

“Thank you,” you bowed your head to him. You brushed away some dust from your sweatpants, finding yourself too shy to look back up.

You felt a firm, yet gentle hand land on your shoulder. You jerked your head upwards to meet Todoroki’s captivating gaze. “Are you injured?” His heterochromatic eyes searched you for any injury, and they glimmered with relief when he found none.

“No, I’m okay,” you reassured the male. “I may be a little bruised in the morning, but I will be fine.” Not to mention my bruised ego.

Todoroki hummed in acknowledgment, his hand still resting on your shoulder. His eyes were hyper-fixated on you, leaving you to feel bare under his intense gaze.

You shifted your weight back and forth as the silence between you dragged on for a couple more seconds. “Um, I—” You cleared your throat. “I should be on my way now. Got things to study, you know.” You told him with an awkward laugh.

You moved to step around him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to move. Your movements are what must have shaken him out of his stupor, with him bashfully stepping to the side to allow you access to the stairway.

“Right.” He said as you walked by. “Take care, Y/N.” You startled at his sudden usage of your given name, but nevertheless, you felt oddly relieved. You smiled shyly and bid him goodbye. Nothing else was said between the two of you, but you felt his eyes on you as you walked up the stairs.

I hope he likes cinnamon; you thought as you peered into the oven.

To be fair, you should have considered that before laboring for over two hours making kinako cinnamon cookies from scratch—which absolutely failed. Therefore, as a last resort, you were forced to run to the store and buy a box mix.

The he in question?

Shouto Todoroki.

It had been several days since your embarrassing first interaction with the dual-haired male and forty-five hours since your second, literal, run-in—not that you were keeping track, of course.

You wanted to do something nice for him as a way to apologize for your newfound clumsiness and thank him for his assistance in both instances. Your calligraphy skills were not . . . up to par, so to say, by any means, so a handmade thank-you card was off the table, and you highly doubt Todoroki was a flower guy. Not to mention his affluent background, so buying him a gift or offering to take him out to dinner was null—and way too straightforward for two people who were barely even acquaintances.

Therefore, you were left with only one option: homemade cookies.

Besides, all the old aunties back home always said the quickest way to win anyone over was through food.

“Ooooh, something smells amazing!” someone exclaimed from the stairway. Smiling slyly to yourself, you turned away from the oven to the new arrival.

You hadn’t interacted much with Rikido Sato save for the casual good morning greetings and thanking him for the delicious red velvet cupcake he baked for you as a welcoming gift to U.A.

“Thanks,” you said, grinning at the male.

The combined low mutterings of more approaching classmates brought your and Sato’s attention to the doorway where Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, and Hanta Sero were entering the dorm.

“Woah something smells fantastic!” Kaminari said, gazing into the kitchen in hopes of spotting the source of the delicious scent.

“Yeah, it does!” Kirishima agreed.

“Oh my gosh, what is it?” Ashido asked as she walked over. Her eyes lit up when she spotted you. “L/N! Did you make something?”

“I did.” You confirmed with a slight nod. “I’m making kinako cinnamon cookies.”

“Oooooh, yummy!” the pinkette exclaimed as she bounced over to peer into the oven. Your other classmates quickly joined her, all of them staring into the soft, golden light of the oven with stars in their eyes.

“They look so good!” Kaminari was practically drooling at the tawny treats. At that moment, the timer went off with a soft ting! You politely shooed your classmates back as you pulled a hand towel over your hands.

“Step back, everyone,” you warned as you opened the oven door. “They’re going to be hot.” You carefully reached in and grabbed the cooking tray, cautiously sliding it off the rack and fully into your cloth-covered hands. Despite taking precautions, you hissed as the hot aluminum seeped through the towel and made contact with your flesh. As quickly as you could without dropping the pan of cookies, you turned and set it down on the kitchen island.

“These look delicious!”

“Woah, man, they look amazing!”

“I bet they taste as scrumptious as they lo—”

You zoned out the boys’ compliments as you moved to the sink and turned on the tap.

“L/N, are you okay?” Ashido asked as she followed you. Her question caught the other's attention, and they, too, turned to watch you quizzingly.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Your response ended with a wince as your skin made contact with the cool water.

“Here, let me see,” Ashido gestured to your hand. With your permission, she took your wrist with gentle fingers and held it up for you both to inspect. Your skin was reddened slightly, but it wasn’t anything serious. You let out a sigh of relief. “It’s not serious, thankfully, but we should still put some burn cream on it just in case,” Ashido advised as she turned off the tap.

You nodded your head again and followed the pink-haired girl as she went to retrieve the first-aid kit. Before you walked too far from the kitchen, you shouted over your shoulder to your classmates, “Please don’t eat the cookies, boys! They are still hot and are for someone special!”

There was a noticeable delay in response to your warning. After a pregnant pause, there was a muffled, “okamph!” in response. You were about to turn around and make sure that they weren’t eating your treats, but Ashido calling your name changed your plans.

“Let’s fix you up, yeah?” She said as you both entered the girls' bathroom. Ashido gestured for you to sit on the counter while she dug through the first-aid kit for burn cream.

“Thank you, Ashido,” you said a few moments later as she lightly applied the cream to the worst of the reddening. Your skin wasn’t blistering, which was a good sign, but it was beginning to ache.

“No problem,” she replied. She began to gently rub the cream into your skin, mindful of the sore spots. She beamed at you as she said, “And you can just call me Mina. We are friends!”

You smiled at her. “Okay, Mina.” The two of you were silent for a couple of minutes as Mina continued to dress your burns.

“So,” she started, breaking the silence. “Who did you make the cookies for?”

You sharply inhaled. “W-what? What do you mean?” You tried to play it off by playing dumb, but Mina gave you an are you kidding me look.

“Don’t play that game with me, girl.” She scolded you. “So, tell me, who is this ‘special someone’?”

You let out a heavy sigh, dropping your shoulders in defeat. “One of our classmates. . .” You trailed off, turning away from the pinkette, and absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

Mina’s eyes lit up and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh my God, seriously?!?” She squealed. You turned to face her again. “Girl, you absolutely gotta tell me! Who is it?!” She went to grab ahold of your hands but stopped herself when she remembered your injury. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You said. “But, um, I—” You hesitated, searching for the right words, but you couldn’t find them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” You said, barely above a whisper, turning away from your classmate once more in embarrassment.

Mina leaned back, taken by surprise by your change of tone. She studied you for a few seconds, her expression falling when she saw the look on your face; the clenching of your jaw.

“It’s okay, girl,” she reassured you. She set the roll of bandages down on the counter as she finished wrapping your hand. “You don’t have to tell me who your crush is if you don’t want to.”

You whipped back around to face her, eyes wide. “C-crush?!” you stammered out. “W-what?! I don’t have a crush! I never said I did.” you explained.

“Yeah, sure,” Mina smirked at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wouldn’t of baked cookies for them if you didn’t like them.”

“Um, because I’m nice?” you asked with a lilt in your voice. Mina does have a point, though, you thought.

Mina laughed. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.”

A couple of minutes later, you and the pinkette exited the bathroom, laughing over something Mina had said. Your hand had been expertly wrapped and treated with some burn cream. Your injury didn’t even hurt anymore, but you were still going to check in tomorrow with Recovery Girl as a precaution.

As you rounded the corner to go back into the kitchen, you stopped dead in your tracks as your eyes fell to the now-empty pan where twenty cookies sat not even ten minutes ago. Mina stopped next to you, and you could see her giving you a questionable look, but you didn’t—couldn’t—acknowledge her. You just stared blankly at the pan, trying to process what you were seeing.

What the hell? you thought.

“Ah, man,” a voice drawled out. You slowly turned towards the source; Denki Kaminari. He was lounging against the counter as he rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Those cinnamon kinako cookies were delicious!” Your brain blanked out when you heard that, the organ pathetically trying to comprehend and respond to the current situation.

“You’re telling me!” Kirishima piped up from beside the blond. Sero and Sato voiced their agreement from where they were seated on the couches. “They really hit the spot after the day I had.” The redhead noticed you and Mina. “Hey, guys, welcome back!” he greeted with a wave, a broad smile overtaking his features. “How’s your hand?”

You did not formulate an answer right away, your brain still processing the crumbled remains of your cookies. Your delay didn’t go unnoticed by the others, but before they could question it, Mina came to your rescue.

“It’s okay! Y/N is alright, nothing major.” She informed them. Kirishima’s gaze left you to focus on the pinkette by your side, but Kaminari’s remained transfixed on your blank expression.

“Oh, well, that’s great to hear! I was worried—”

“But you should be ashamed!” Mina cut the redhead off, tone sharp as a blade. “All of you.”

“What—?”

“Mina, why—?”

Kirishima and Kaminari spoke at once, their voices clashing, but the pinkette interrupted them once more.

“Y/N didn’t make those cookies for you.” She said. “She made them for someone special, yet you guys ate them even after she told you not to.” She just about bit the last part out. The boys gaped at Mina, her scolding catching them by surprise.

“Is that true?” Sato asked, rising from the couch to approach you. Everyone fixated their attention on you, waiting for a response.

You hesitated at the sudden limelight, and also in shyness. When you originally set out to bake the kinako cookies for Todoroki, you didn’t expect them to 1.) burn your hand and 2.) for them to be eaten by others. Even though you were upset, you didn’t want the others to be ashamed or scolded. But they did eat them after I told them not to, you thought, pondering your next move.

After a few moments, you squared your shoulders and steadily said, “Yes. I . . . made them for somebody.” At your words, the room’s atmosphere soured. The boys’ shoulders slumped as they realized their mistake.

“Shoot, L/N, I’m sorry,” Kaminari said, stepping forward to gently grab your uninjured hand and bow.

“Yeah,” Kirishima added, scratching the back of his neck and looking away slightly. “That wasn’t really manly of us.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Sero intoned, looking sheepish.

Sato came to stand in front of you next to Kaminari, who still had a gentle hold of your hand. “I’ll be more than happy to remake the cookies for you.” He said. “If you want that, of course.”

You smiled, though it was closed-lipped. “Thank you, Sato, but not today.” He bowed his head.

Suddenly, the front doors slammed open, startling the six of you. You all watched, shell-shacked—you did, at least—as a fuming Bakugou stepped inside, loudly exclaiming, “I had ‘hat dumbass villain handled! Damn Sidekick extra jus’ had to step ‘n and—” He noticed your little group gaping at him. “The hell ‘re ya fools lookin’ at?” As the words left his mouth, the other two members of the infamous U.A. trio entered as well.

“Kacchan,” Izuku Midoriya said, trying to placate the explosive male. “He was just trying to . . .” The rest of his sentence fizzled into the background as the entirety of your attention span landed on Shouto Todoroki.

It had already been well-established that the youngest Todoroki son was even more handsome in person, but seeing him in his Hero costume did things to you. Your mouth almost dropped open to gawk at his god-like appearance, but you clenched your jaw tightly shut to avoid that catastrophe. Despite that, you were pretty positive your eyes were as wide as saucers, greedily taking every inch of him in as if it were the last time you would see him.

I should sue him for the cost of my medical bills when I develop heart palpitations, you thought.

“Shut the hell up, ya stupid nerd.” Bakugou snapped at a sputtering Midoriya, drawing your attention once more. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“Is he always this angry?” you asked under your breath; half-serious, half-rhetorical.

“Oh, yeah,” Mina confirmed, voice just as low.

Sero snickered from his post next to Sato. “You get used to it after a while,” he reassured you.

One of Kirishima’s blinding smiles makes its appearance once again. “Katsuki’s always been passionate about, well, everything.” He told you, not bothering to lower his voice. “It’s who he is. We love him regardless.”

Sato chimed in with, “Platonically.” The boys snickered and Mina rolled her eyes, yet there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“Even though his sour attitude can be harsh and lowkey over the top,” Kaminari began, eyes shining with mischief. “It sure makes him fun to mess with!” Your companions groaned in exasperation and started to voice their reservations.

“No, Denki. Leave him be—” Mina urged him.

“Awe, come on, man. Don’t—”

“Heyy~ Katsuki,” Kaminari crooned, rocking back on his heels as the pale blond’s attention zeroed in on him. Kirishima and Sato facepalmed. “Why have trouble catching a ‘dumbass villain’?” he teased. “Bad day? Your head not in the game?” The hair on your arms rose to attention as an electric charge swept the room, putting everyone on edge. Kaminari’s baiting also drew the attention of the explosive male’s companions. Your eyes briefly met captivating graphite and turquoise, eliciting a sharp gasp to leave your lungs.

“You’re gonna regret the day you were born, dumbass!” Bakugou bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at the electric blond, snapping your attention from the hypnotizing gaze. You fully expected him to charge the male, already taking a cautionary step back, but instead of explosions ripping apart the building, Bakugou grunted and moved towards the showers.

Mina turned to the blond and shouted, “Now why did you do that, Denki? You know better than to rile Katsuki up like that!”

Kirishima dragged a large hand down his face before running it through his unruly red locks. “I’ll go check on him,” he announced before jogging after the sandy-blond. You were at a loss for words as you continued to watch your classmates scold a shit-grinning Kaminari, not even the tiniest bit remorseful for his teasing of Bakugou.

“Please don’t take Kacchan’s rashness to heart.” A new voice piped up. You turned to meet the electric green gaze of none other than Izuku Midoriya, the new generation’s proclaimed Symbol of Peace. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t think we have properly met. I’ve been in and out of campus lately—with missions and such.” He practically skipped over to stand in front of you. He smiled brightly as he gently took your hands in his large, calloused ones. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’m so happy you are here at U.A.!” he excitedly exclaimed, lightly squeezing your entwined hands. You couldn’t hide your wince and small gasp of pain as Midoriya unknowingly squeezed your burns. The green-haired male let go of your hands so fast as if he was the one burned instead of you, eyes growing wide. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?!” he asked, noticing the bandages wrapped tightly around your hand. Midoriya’s frenzy caught the other's attention, and all eyes were on you yet again.

The tips of your ears grew hot at the unwavering attention from the Heroes-in-training—especially from a certain icy-hot male who made your heart falter in its beating. “Y-yeah, I’m f-fine.” You stuttered as you met each of your classmate's gazes, trying to reassure them of your stability.

“What happened?” Todoroki inquired, eyes hawkishly zeroed in on your face.

“U-um, well . . .” you trailed off, words fading from your brain as you slightly cowered under his unwavering attention. “I—”

“She burned herself while baking kinako cookies,” Sero spoke for you, having caught onto your growing anxiousness. You didn’t miss Todoroki’s eyes narrowing at the black-haired male’s words. Sato and Kaminari made noises of agreement, the blond absentmindedly rubbing his stomach in content.

Midoriya’s eyes shined. “Really? You did?!” He looked behind you to the kitchen, eyes searching for the aforementioned treats. “Where are they?” he asked when he didn’t spot any, only a plate littered with crumbs. He turned his attention back to you. You opened your mouth to answer, but a wave of shame overcame you as your eyes once again met those of the one you had made the cookies for.

Mina noticed your hesitation, giving you a knowing look as she answered for you. “The three idiots to your left ate them all,” she said with a little bite to her words, glaring daggers at the culprits. “After they were specifically told not to.” She reaffirmed. The boys shuddered at the reminder of their disobedience. The pinkette turned her attention back to the green-haired and dual-haired males. “I patched her up, though. The burns are minor.”

Midoriya nodded his head in understanding. “You should still see Recovery Girl,” he instructed, unashamedly expressing his concern for someone he had just properly met. “At least let her take a look at it.”

“I’m going to stop by to see her in the morning,” you reassured him, words coming back now that your mind was a little clear. His shoulders slumped in relief.

“You should rest, Y/N.” Todoroki’s searing gaze trailed over your form, calculating eyes searching for any additional outward signs of injury or discomfort. “After suffering an injury, no matter how insignificant, rest is important.” He softly chided.

“R-right.” You stammered out, at a loss for how else to respond to your handsome classmate's concern other than compliance. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at that moment. Your feet stumbled as you became lightheaded for a split second. You noticed the dual-haired male take a step towards you, catching onto your sudden exhaustion, but you quickly rightened yourself. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You’re not exactly sure why you thanked him, or what for. His concern, perhaps? He subtly nodded as you turned from the small group, breathlessly mumbling some sort of farewell and something about retiring to your room for the rest of the day.

The others muttered their goodbyes as you made your way to the stairwell.

As you walked up the stairs, head hung low, your throat began to burn and your vision began to blur with tears. The first one fell when you reached your floor, quickly followed by a couple more. You wiped them away, sniffing, as you made your way to your door. You didn’t react to the sudden presence next to you and the weight draped around your shoulders.

Mina didn’t say anything, only traced comforting circles into your back as tears flowed freely down your cheeks.

The next day, you and your classmates were gathered outside Gym Gamma for an impromptu training session. You were surprised that Class 3-A still regularly trained together, but in your defense, that assumption came from someone who didn’t have many options when it came to sparing partners up until your transfer—a major shortcoming in retrospect.

“Today we are working on ‘last stand’ combat.” Mr. Aizawa drawled in his natural I Don’t Give A Fuck tone. “Close-quarter combat in which a violent assailant has obtained the upper hand and corners you in an attempt to defeat you.” He proceeded to explain the instructions of the training exercise and pair the students into groups of four who would take turns being the Heroes and the assailants.

“Midoriya will be with Jirou.” Mr. Aizawa intoned, briefly glancing at the two students to confirm they heard. “Todoroki will be with L/N.” Your muscles stiffened when you heard that. Your heart began to race as you watched the red-and-white-haired male make his way over to you.

“H-hi,” you greeted him, giving a soft smile.

“Hello,” he said, politely inclining his head. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Same here.” You said before facing forward once more as the first group began their round. You and Todoroki observed the match in silence, with you paying extra attention to your classmates’ movements and taking mental notes of how they incorporated their Quirks into hand-to-hand combat.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Expecting the new additions to be Ochako and Asui, you turned to greet them with a warm smile but paused when instead of your friends, Midoriya and Kyoka Jirou were standing next to you, both with warm expressions on their faces.

“Hi!” Midoriya greeted with a wide smile and a small wave. “I’m excited for this training exercise! It’s going to be so cool to see everyone’s improvement with hand-to-hand combat over the break! And any new moves! Or Quirk Awakenings! Or—” You had a hard time keeping up with what he was saying as it turned into a stuttering rant as he went on about each individual’s Quirk.

The rumors were true regarding his ramblings, you mused to yourself, wondering how long he could go on for before a small hand on his shoulder made him take pause.

“Midoriya,” Jirou intoned. “Calm down.” His cheeks flushed a bright red. He began laughing nervously while absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.

“S-sorry,” he said, shyfully.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I agree with your stance, though. Observing others' skills is an effective way to improve your own. Get an idea or two.” You turned your attention back to the ongoing training, taking mental notes of your classmates’ fighting stances and their defensive moves, trying to get a better understanding of the why behind them. You pulled a small item from your jacket pocket, absentmindedly rubbing it between your thumb and forefinger. The movement caught Midoriya’s attention.

“What is that?” he asked, green eyes alight with curiosity.

“What? This?” You held up your good luck charm; a small, pink parrot keychain from a popular cartoon series you had won years ago at one of your hometown’s summer festivals. It was lucky because at the moment, while little you were trying to win, your Quirk had manifested. “It’s my good luck charm,” you explained the pink parrot’s value to you.

“Oh, cool!” Midoriya exclaimed. “You know, I used to have a good luck charm—it was my super rare exclusive All Might trading card! First edition!” His eyes shined as he reminisced. “I would bring it with me everywhere! Even Kacchan—”

“Deku,” drawled a low voice from the other side of your gathered class. The temperature fell as Bakugou’s vermillion eyes narrowed onto Midoriya. “Don’t say another word.”

“He’s such a fanboy.” Jirou chuckled, fondness seeping into her voice. Midoriya smiled sheepishly, not bothering even to try to deny the label. You spent the time until your group’s turn getting to know the two, quickly finding out that you and Jirou share the same taste in music; vowing to swap playlists after class. You were so caught up in your conversation that you almost forgot about Todoroki's presence, if not for the awareness of a body next to you. His chilled warmth seeped into your muscles, causing you to relax one moment, and tense up another.

“Are you all right?” he softly inquired, spying your tensed posture.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You replied, softly smiling but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Just a lil’ nervous, is all.”

Todoroki frowned slightly, not understanding how you could be experiencing anxiousness. “Wh—?”

“Oh yeah!” Midoriya suddenly interjected. “This is going to be your first time demonstrating your Quirk, huh?” he asked you. “Or at least this is gonna be the first time I will see it. What is it again? Object—no—um, yeah, anyway I bet it is awesome!” His eyes still shined with his enthusiasm and curiosity. “Sometime you gotta let me ask you about it! I have so many! Does it work like Ochako’s Zero Gravity? Or Yaoyorozu’s Creation?”

You couldn’t help but give a small laugh at his eagerness. You had never met someone as enthusiastic about Quirks as Izuku Midoriya. It was kind of refreshing to interact with someone as passionate as he was.

“Kind of,” you began, silently pondering over what you know of the brunette’s Quirk and comparing it to your own. “Ochako and I have the same limitations when it comes to the weight of an object, but besides that, our Quirks are different.” Your Quirk was object manipulation; you could telepathically manipulate objects within a certain range. To you, your Quirk wasn’t all that—wasn’t anything unique by any means—but to others, you were seen as a powerful goddess. “To be honest, I’m lacking in hand-to-hand combat skills.” You sheepishly smiled.

“Really?” Midoriya asked, blinking in shock. “I thought your previous school would have prepared you for all types of situations.” Jirou nodded her agreement with the green-haired male. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Shouto continue to observe you with a calculating expression on his face.

“Unfortunately, no.” You shrugged. “Their curriculum was more focused on improving the individual’s Quirk than learning how to fight without it.”

“Oh, wow,” Jirou said. “That could put you at a great disadvantage down the line.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why—” You were cut off by Mr. Aizawa calling for your group to begin your training round. “Welp, this is it, I guess.” You chuckled nervously.

Midoriya gave you a reassuring smile. “You’ll do great!” he said, giving you a thumbs-up accompanied by a warm smile.

“Do your best,” Jirou added before moving towards the training pitch.

You started to follow, but a cool hand on your shoulder made you pause, shivering softly. You turned to find Todoroki giving you an expectant look. “You’ll do fine,” he said, confidently. He looked as if he put his entire faith in you. “I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

You felt a surge of confidence fill you at his words. You gave him a determined look. “Right,” you said. “We got this.”

You swear up and down his eyes twinkled when he looked at you, but it could have been a trick of the light. “You got this.” He replied, softly. The two of you walked into the pitch together, side by side.

The training went . . . not terrible, but it could have been better on your end.

Todoroki, Midoriya, and Jirou were amazing. Even without using their Quirks, they each were a force to be reckoned with. You were captivated by how swiftly they moved—as if they were ballerinas performing Danse des Petits Cygnes.

You weren’t on the same level as them and the rest of Class 3-A. You knew that, and you acknowledged it, but to see and be confronted by it so bluntly in person made you feel a whole other level of embarrassment and shame. You weren’t weak by any means, you could hold your own in a fight for some time, but not like your classmates could—and had.

Perhaps that is what separates you from your classmates. They have battle experience. Hell, they fought in a fucking war for crying out loud while you were on the other side of the country, guarding civilian shelters. You were fortunate not to see much bloodshed, but maybe that brought you to a disadvantage against these future Heroes surrounding you.

The horn had sounded as Jirou pinned you in the dirt for the sixth time, signaling the end of the round. You heard the sounds of Midoriya and Todoroki’s scuffling come to a halt from somewhere off to your left as Jirou lifted herself off of you. She offered you a hand as you began to rise from the ground. You accepted her extended hand with a grimace as the muscles in your back burned.

“Nice work.” Mr. Aizawa said as the four of you approached. “You performed adequately,” he addressed Jirou, Todoroki, and Midoriya. He turned to you. “You, not so much.”

You flinched as the words landed home. Damn, you thought, but he’s not wrong. You had naively allowed yourself to believe that Eraserhead wouldn’t call out your inferiority, at least in front of others. Then again, he was Eraserhead—infamous for his bluntness and apathy.

“Your skills are greatly lacking in hand-to-hand combat,” he continued. “I haven’t seen somebody so physically inadequate since your classmates were first years. Coming from another Hero Course, especially one with its reputation, it’s to be expected that you’re not up to par with your new classmates, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.” As he spoke, he never broke eye contact with you, scrutinizing you. Even with one eye, his unrelenting gaze made you feel as if he could see every minuscule detail about you. “Based on the performance I saw today, it was a mistake to put you in this class.”

You heard a gasp from one of your classmates; its owner unknown. You gulped down your shame and remained silent. You had a feeling Aizawa wasn’t finished with you.

“From here on out, I expect you to train harder and push yourself further than anyone else. Extra training, extra classes—anything that will make you catch up.” His eye narrowed. “If I do not see substantial improvement in one month, you will be expelled. No exceptions.”

Your eyes widened, but your shock did not stop you from replying. “Yes, sir.” You said, keeping your tone neutral as you mulled over his words. Although extreme, I understand the reason for Mr. Aizawa’s methods, you thought. He’s right though. I’m far from even scrapping the level these guys are on. I need to be more disciplined and work even harder if I want to stand on equal ground with my classmates. Resolve made, you promised, “I will go Plus Ultra!”

“Yaass, Y/N!” Mina cheered. “Woohoo!”

Aizawa didn’t say anything else to you, promptly dismissing the class. Midoriya praised your performance and commented on his wish to sit down and talk in-depth with you regarding your Quirk. You promptly accepted his request, telling him you would let him know when you were free. He smiled before walking off to join Iida and Ochako.

“If it means anything,” a voice suddenly intoned from behind you. You spun around, having not sensed the person's approach. You weren’t all that surprised to find Todoroki there, softly regarding you. “I think you did well.”

You scoffed but smiled softly. “Thank you, but you don’t have to patronize me. I have a lot of work to do if I want to catch up.”

“You will,” he declared, before quickly clarifying, “Catch up. Especially with my help.”

You furrowed your brows. “Excuse me?”

“Should I repeat myself?” he inquired, his heterochromatic eyes swimming in mirth. “I will assist you in your training and classes.”

You didn’t respond right away, regarding him with suspicion. You waited for him to name a condition for his help, but when he offered none, you relaxed. “Thank you, Todoroki.” You inclined your head. “I greatly appreciate it.”

“Shouto,” he corrected.

You blinked at him, taken aback. “What?”

“Shouto,” he reiterated. “You may call me Shouto. We are friends, are we not?”

You gaped at him for a moment, processing his words. “Ye-yeah!” you said a little too loudly. “We are friends, Shouto.”

The small smile that graced his lips lit up your entire world and caused your heart to speed up, pounding almost painfully against your ribcage. “Meet me here tomorrow after class.” He instructed.

“Tomorrow.” You repeated in confirmation.

His smile grew a little wider. “See you then, Y/N.” He said before turning on his heel and strolling away. You watched him go in a daze, in disbelief of what just occurred.

“Oooooooo, Y/N’s gotta date!”

You shrieked at the sudden voice and spun around for a second time to find Mina standing there, hunched over laughing at your reaction.

“Mina!” you shrieked, placing a hand over your heart. “You scared the shit outta me!”

She continued to laugh. “Sorry,” she said once her laughter died down. “You were so entranced with Todoroki that you didn’t even realize I was here!”

“Oh, yeah right.” You responded, playfully rolling your eyes. The two of you began to walk to the dorm. “I wasn’t entranced with him.”

The pinkette gave you a look of disbelief, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, sure,” she retorted. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you ain’t lying to me.”

You scoffed but didn’t attempt to refute her claims. You put your hands in your pockets and looked to the ground, lost in thought. Mina didn’t say anything else, allowing you both to walk in silence.

The next afternoon, you met Shouto at the training grounds outside Gym Gamma for your first tutored training session. He regarded you kindly as you slowly approached, suddenly feeling quite bashful.

“Thank you for offering to do this, Shouto.” You said when you arrived. “It really means a lot. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”

“There’s no need for repayment.” He softly responded. “I volunteered to assist you. Therefore, no repayment of any sort is necessary.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

His soft call of your name made your next words die in your throat. “I assure you, this is fine.” He said. “Your company and attention are substantial enough.” You felt your face warm at his admission. Shouto gestured towards the training pit. “Shall we begin?”

He started by teaching you some stretches that are supposed to help decrease sudden muscle spasms and strengthen them. Afterward, he had you show him the little knowledge you had of hand-to-hand combat to gain an idea of where you stand in regard to U.A. training. Once you had demonstrated the few kicks and different styles of punching you knew, you turned to judge Shouto’s impression.

Your breath caught at what you saw.

His handsome features remained stoically blank for the most part, but the pursing of his lips and slight furrowing of his brows spoke a different tale. He grumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like they didn’t prepare you at all, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure.

“Shouto?” you inquired, voice slightly uneven as your mouth formed the syllables of his name. “Is everything alright?”

His beautiful eyes snapped to yours, and once again you were frozen by the intensity with which he looked at you. His gaze was calculating, and you could just about see the cogs turning in his brain as he silently regarded you. A couple long moments later, his lips parted on an exhale and he finally addressed you.

“We have a lot of work to do.” He declared. “But we already knew that.” You slowly nodded your head, curious as to where he would be going with this conversation. “Thankfully, you’re not completely helpless,” he intoned dryly. “Even though you don’t have many skills regarding physical, non-Quirk combat, I have identified several places where we can start, correct, and then build on.”

You steadied yourself, resolve firmer than ever before. You declared, “I’m ready.”

Shouto gave a quick, but detailed, overview of his plans for your ‘training tutoring’, you referred to your sessions as. He was going to teach you everything he thought you should know—which was everything he knew—in order to successfully become a Hero people could rely on.

The two of you began by improving your physique. You joined him on his early morning run along with Midoriya and Bakugou, who welcomed you with contrasting fervor. When you met for your afternoon training, you would run five kilometers before learning various grades of combat moves, and then concluding your time together by sparring.

It was established early on that neither of you would use your Quirks during your tutoring as the two of you were well-adapted to your respective Quirks—and the strict rules regarding their usage.

For the next several weeks, you worked tirelessly on your training, and your dedication and hard work paid off. At your end-of-the-month assessment, Aizawa was pleased by your rapid and exceptional improvement and announced you could stay at U.A. He also informed you that it was never his intention to expel you in the first place, but nevertheless, he was impressed by your efforts.

You and Shouto continued to grow closer as time went by. You still had your training tutoring sessions in the afternoons, and you became a regular on his early morning runs. You even hung out outside of class and training; preparing pre-workout meals and drinks together, and various study sessions at all hours of the day and night. Once, you even packed him a small canister of his favorite brand of soba noodles for lunch one of the weekends he was interning at his father’s Agency. When he came back to the dorm after his shift, he made a beeline for you and promptly informed you that from then on out, you would be solely responsible for packing his lunches.

“Now why would I do that?” you implored. You crossed your arms, awaiting his response. “Are you gonna pay me?”

Shouto slowly blinked at you in the way a cat would. “Why would I compensate you for an action you chose to do?”

You had no retort for that.

As you spent more time together, you noticed some changes. Shouto would stare at you for seemingly no reason, and whenever you called him out on it, he feigned innocence. He also sought you out more often, insisting on walking to your next class or to and from the dorm by your side. He even began to occupy you on your shopping runs, dutifully holding your bags for you. And whenever you would thank or compliment him, his whole demeanor would light up as if Aphrodite herself had shown favor towards him.

You weren’t any better, though.

If Shouto would do so much as even blink in your general direction, your heart would soar and butterflies would take flight in your stomach. At first, you brushed it off as nerves for being the subject of the Shouto Todoroki’s attention, but you were in denial, not wanting to admit what was actually occurring. Looking back, you realized that deep down, you had known all along what was happening, but at the time, you weren’t ready to admit it—to yourself and him.

Regardless of your rebuttals and lack of admission, you were falling for your dual-haired classmate, hard and fast, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

3 months later . . .

“Y/N! It’s starting! You’re gonna miss it!” Ochako shouted from the couches, the other girls of Class 3-A surrounding her, all dressed in comfortable loungewear. It was the class's annual Girl’s Movie Night, which was held every couple of months. Tooru told you earlier that week that they would like to have it more often, like once a month, but given their hectic and ever-changing schedules, the girls had to settle for every few months. They took turns who got to pick out the movie. It was Mina’s turn this time. True to her nature, she selected an early 2000s chick flick set in the States.

“Hold on, wait for me!” you hollered back as you finished pouring the freshly popped popcorn into a large bowl, a few kernels spilling out as you whirled on your heels to sprint into the living area. You nearly tripped over Jirou’s legs as you practically threw yourself towards the last remaining free spot on the couch.

“Ah, sorry!” you exclaimed as you settled yourself into the cushions, checking over Jirou and your popcorn bowl. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, it’s just starting,” Momo said, taking a sip from her cup of tea as the opening credits began to roll.

“Ooh, this is one of my all-time favorite movies!” Mina squealed next to you. “Have you ever seen it before?” she asked.

You hummed, acknowledging her question. You thought hard, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen the characters on the screen before. “I’m not sure,” you said. “I don’t think so.”

The pinkette gasped aloud and theatrically placed a hand on her chest, sprawling backward. “Y/N! You wound me!”

Across the room, Tooru piped up from her spot next to Asui. “How could you not have?! It’s only one of the greatest movies ever made!”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” Ochako interjected. “Gonna have to disagree.” You expected them to start arguing back and forth over what is truly the greatest movie ever made, like your friends back home would have done, but they don’t. Mina stuck her tongue out at Ochako before turning back to the movie.

You all watched the movie in relative silence, save for the light background noise of popcorn moving around in a bowl and slurping from a now-empty straw. It was nice, peaceful; a well-deserved and appreciated respite from the grinding hustle of being Pro-Heroes-in-training.

“Just confess already!” Jirou shouted at the screen as the main character allowed another opportunity for them to confess their feelings for their classmate slip through their fingers. “Gosh!” A corner of your mouth curled at her irritation. A few grumbles of agreement sounded from the others as the movie continued playing.

You had to stifle your laughter as the main characters continued to pine after one another, completely oblivious to the other’s growing feelings. I can’t believe there are actually people in the world who are like them, you silently mused. It’s so obvious they like each other. I can’t believe they don’t see it.

“Ugh, the anticipation and pining is killing me!” Tooru cried out, her slippers moving frantically in the air as she kicked her legs.

Asui raised a brow. “I thought you’ve seen this movie before?”

“Well, yeah, I have,” the invisible female said. “But the suspense still gets to me!”

“It is quite intense.” Ochako agreed. “I hope they confess soon. It hurts to see them think the other doesn’t return their feelings.”

“I don’t understand how they cannot.” You admitted, shrugging your shoulders. The girls turned to look at you as you continued, “I mean, they’re so obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda annoying at this point,” Jirou mumbled.

Mina snickered. “Y/N, as if you’re one to talk.”

You gave her a questioning look, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, come on. You’re so obvious, too, with your crush—”

You cut her off, “I do not have a crush.”

“You have a crush?” Asui asked. You and Mina responded at the same time.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, she does.”

“What is this about?” Momo inquired, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie.

“Nothi—” you began but was swiftly interrupted by the pinkette next to you.

“Y/N has a crush on Todoroki!”

The girls gasped and gapped at you, eyes wide.

“I do not!” You said, face burning as you tried to mitigate the situation. “We’re not like that!”

“Oh my.” You thought you heard Momo say under her breath, but you couldn’t really hear since Tooru started shrieking with glee.

“You guys would be the cutest couple!” she exclaimed, jumping up from her spot on the couch and racing over to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I mean, it does make sense given they spend so much time together.” Ochako mused, a finger on her chin as she considered the situation.

Asui jumped on the bandwagon with, “Oh they are definitely into each other.”

“One hundred percent,” Mina agreed.

“Girl, you gotta spill the tea!” Tooru exclaimed as she pulled away. “Tell us everything!” The others voiced their agreement.

“I do admit, I am curious as to how this relationship came to be,” Momo vocalized, setting her tea cup down onto its saucer. “That is if the two of you have gotten that far into your companionship.”

You blinked at the midnight-black-haired woman, shock clouding your brain for a moment as you processed her words. “Um, n-no. We aren’t in any type of r-romantic relationship.” You clarified, but immediately you could tell certain people thought your answer was complete horse poop. “We aren’t!”

“Regardless, you guys are pretty close,” Ochako interjected. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jirou nodded in agreement. “And all the extra training you do together.”

“The early morning runs,” Asui added.

“Okay, okay,” you threw your hands up in a placating manner. “I understand what you guys are trying to get at, but you’re wrong.”

Mina came to stand beside you, giving you a knowing look. “Girl, Y/N,” she began. “You can try with all your might to deny it, but it’s obvious what is really going on between you and Shouto.” She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder. “And I know you know it, too.”

You stared at the pinkette, pondering her and the other’s words. You wanted to continue denying what they were saying, but you were getting tired of denying your feelings to yourself. You slumped your shoulders, the tension leaving your body as you resolved to come clean with the truth—to yourself and your friends, besides a certain dual-haired male. “Alright, fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, mentally preparing yourself for their reaction to your next statement. “I like him a little.” You confessed, looking at the floor, too afraid to meet any of their gazes.

The room was dead silent for two breaths before Mina erupted in choking laughter. “’A little’? Yeah RIGHT!” She laughed so hard that tears began to stream down her pink cheeks. After she managed to calm down a bit, she turned to face you fully, laying a hand on your knee. “Girl, you’re lying to yourself.” She told you, tone light yet serious. “We have all seen the way you look at Shouto—” the others nod in confirmation. “—and your eyes tell it all.”

You flinched as embarrassment flooded you. “Is it really that obvious?” you asked. You turned to the others to gauge their reactions. “Am I?” They all nodded.

“Definitely.”

“For sure.”

“We could see it from a mile away.”

You gasped. “Oh my,” you covered your face with your hands. “Do you think Shouto knows?”

“I doubt so,” Momo said. “Shouto is quite intelligent and a formidable force to be reckoned with, but as I’m sure you’re aware, his experience and understanding of social concepts and cues are fairly limited.”

“In other words,” Jirou interjected. “He’s none the wiser.”

You released a sigh of relief. At least he doesn’t think I’m a psycho stalker or something.

“Hey, give him some credit, guys,” Ochako remarked. “Todoroki’s more aware than he’s given credit for.”

“Moving on,” Mina said. “Have you thought about confessing your feelings to him?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shamefully looking away. “No. . .”

“What?!”

“Really?!” Tooru shouted. “But he’s so hot!” The sleeves of her shirt crossed in front of her. “I would do anything to be his girlfriend.”

You laughed. “While you are correct about his handsomeness, I don’t even know where I would begin or how I would confess.”

“Your feelings are valid, Y/N,” Asui assured you. “Confessing one’s feelings for another is a life-changing occurrence.”

“You gotta do it before graduation in a couple months, though,” Ochako added. “If not, then you may never get another chance to do so.”

“Why do you say that?” you asked. “As Pros, wouldn’t we work together often? Why does it need to be before we graduate and turn Pro?”

“Possibly, but with our chosen line of work, there is always a possibility. . .” she trailed off with a grimace.

You understood immediately. “Oh.”

“Although rare in the line of duty, it does happen.” Momo said. “I wouldn’t worry about that though, but I agree with Ochako.”

“Plus,” Mina began, mischief glowing in her eyes. “If the two of you get together before you make your Pro Hero debut to the world, you wouldn’t have to worry about him falling in love with some random civilian he rescues on the street or another Pro.”

You nodded. “You have a point.”

“Either way, I think it will all work out in the end,” Ochako said, her cheeks widening with her smile. “I think perhaps Shouto returns your feelings, and just simply doesn’t know what to do about them or how to address them, therefore you should tell him.” The other girls voiced their agreement.

“Yeah, it doesn’t have to be some big romantic gesture or anything,” Jirou said.

“Just be honest with him, Y/N,” Asui said.

“Yeah, girl,” Mina added, giving you a warm smile when you met her gaze. “You got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

You squared your shoulders as a burst of confidence filled you thanks to the encouragement you received from your friends. “Okay, I will!” you loudly announced. “I will confess my feelings to him!”

The others cheered as you all held up your lemon water in a faux toast. In your happiness, none of you noticed the shadows shift in the stairwell and the soft noise of retreating footsteps on the wood.

You were screwed.

“How am I gonna tell him!?” you mewled aloud a couple of days later in the cafeteria. You dramatically slumped your forehead on the tabletop, mentally kicking yourself for allowing the girls to convince you that confessing your crush would be an easy endeavor. You felt a reassuring pat on your shoulder. Groaning, you lifted your head from the table to shoot puppy eyes at Ochako. “Ochako, help me!” you cried. “How do I confess?”

The brunette gave you a sheepish smile. “I don’t know, Y/N.” She professed, her eyes apologetic. “Proclaiming one's love for another isn’t really my strong suit.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Asui mumbled under her breath before taking a sip of her drink, receiving a glare in response.

“Y/N, sweetie,” Mina cooed from your other side. “I think you’re overthinking it a little. It shouldn’t be but so hard. Just be honest with him!”

“But that is hard!” you said, waving your hands in the air. “I can’t just walk up to him and say, ‘hey, Shouto, I think you’re really hot and amazing. Wanna go out with me?’”

“Sure you can,” Momo intoned, trying to reassure you. “Maybe not in those exact words, but when the time comes, you will know what to say.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, slumping your shoulders. “I hope so.”

As time passed, you found that you did not, in fact, know what to say when the time came to confess your feelings to Shouto Todoroki. Whenever you were near him, you became tongue-tied and could barely speak without becoming a stuttering mess. During each interaction, Shouto would give you a long, confused look, his eyebrows drawn downwards as he watched you struggle for words. He wouldn’t comment on it, bless him, but he must’ve thought you to be a total weirdo.

Yet, he still accompanied you on the walk back to the dorm every day after classes ended, and he insisted on continuing your training sessions every weekend after he finished his shift at Endeavor’s Agency. The two of you grew closer, to your absolute delight, and yet you still hadn’t managed to work up the courage to confess your feelings to him.

Until one day . . .

You were sitting in homeroom during free period, chatting with Midoriya about the latest episode of the rebooted All Might: The Mightiest Man TV series.

“I’m telling you, Midoriya,” you said. “It doesn’t matter how much the animation and special effects have improved, the original will always be better than the reboot.” You crossed your arms and lounged back in your chair, waiting for the forest green-haired male to start sputtering his counterargument. “You can’t change my mind. I will die on this hill.”

“Are you seriously sayin—?”

A call of your name from a familiar tenor drew your attention. You turned towards the source to meet a pair of heterochromatic eyes. Shouto was making his way to your desk, coming to a stop right in front of you. You had to tilt your head back in order to maintain eye contact. After a moment, he turned his attention to Midoriya next to you. “Pardon me, Midoriya, but I need to speak to Y/N in private.”

You and Midoriya gaped at the dual-haired male for a good twenty seconds before you slowly rose from your seat. “O-okay.” You turned to face your green-haired companion. You hoped your eyes were conveying your inner panic as you said, “Midoriya, I’ll be back.”

All he could do was nod as he watched you follow behind Shouto, wondering why you looked so panicked to go with the male. Maybe you were constipated.

As Shouto led you toward the classroom door, Ochako and Mina shot you curious glances. When you met their gazes, they gave you a reassuring smile and a thumbs up, respectfully.

“Good luck, girl!” Mina whisper-shouted.

“You got this, Y/N,” Ochako said. You tried to match her comforting smile with your own, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

You followed behind the dual-haired male, silently wondering what was going on. Once you were outside the classroom, he led you down the hallway to a little corner nook bathed in the golden light of the afternoon.

“Shouto, is everything okay?” you asked, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Is something wrong?” At your inquiry, he finally came to a stop in front of a set of windows and turned to face you.

“Yes, everything is fine.” He reassured you. “I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

You blinked. “Okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

Shouto likewise paused at your usage of unfamiliar slang but didn’t comment on it. “Um,” he started, but drifted off, not finishing the thought. He opened his mouth only to shut it again after a moment or two without making a sound. You furrowed your brows as you continued to watch him struggle for words.

“Um, Sho?” you prodded. He didn’t respond, however, still thinking over his next words. Shouto never hesitates, you thought with a mixture of wonderment and anxiety. Is something bothering him? you thought with growing concern. You felt your heart come to a skittering stop as another horrifying conclusion came to mind; am I the problem?

“I overheard you and the other girls’ conversation on Movie Night,” he confessed at last, interrupting your spiraling train of thought. He bashfully looked away as if he was ashamed.

“Oh, okay?” you responded, absentmindedly going through the events of the night in question. Your heartbeat began to calm down to a normal rate. “What conversation?” You couldn’t think of anything in particular and were about to ask him to elaborate before the realization hit you like a freight train.

“I like him a little.”

“Okay, I will! I will confess my feelings to him!”

“Yeah, girl, you got this. Besides, he can’t reject you. You’re too hot for that.”

Oooohhhhh.

Fuck.

Maybe he didn’t hear that particular part of the conversation! You tried to reassure yourself as you waited for Shouto to answer your question. Your heart rate picked back up as panic began to settle in. We were there for several hours. There is so much he could’ve—

“You have an admiration going on.” You hate to admit you gawked at him for a couple of seconds before his formal wording translated into modern speech. You have a crush.

FUCK!

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” you rushed out, trying to save face and whatever friendship you had with Shouto. You felt your cheeks burn. “Please, just forget you ever heard that!”

Shouto snapped his head to you as your words registered in his brain. “Why would I do that?” he asked after a moment. “We live in the same building with shared living space, barely anything is not overheard by another.”

Oh God, how much did he overhear?

“Besides,” he continued. “At our age, it is completely natural for one to harbor feelings for another.”

You blinked at him as his words registered, your cheeks now tingling due to the burn. Gosh, he sounds like a grandpa giving the birds and the bees talk.

“It—it’s j-just,” you stammered. “I-I-I—” You let out a harsh breath in frustration when your words continued to fail you. Shouto raised a brow before his eyes narrowed. Your heart sank when you saw that.

Oh great, he’s annoyed!

“Are you all right?” he asked before moving so he was right in front of you. You squeaked at the sudden warmth of his body heat as he placed a hand on your forehead. “Do you feel ill? You feel warm, and your face looks to be flushed with some perspiration gathering on your forehead.” His eyes frantically looked you up and down as he examined you for any further signs of sickness. “I should get you to Recovery Girl.”

“N-no!” you exclaimed when he went to sweep you off your feet. “Sh-Shouto, I—I’m fine, really. I’m n-not s-sick.”

“Oh?” Shouto blinked in confusion and, adorably, subtly tilted his head to the side. “Then why are you so febrile? And you are stuttering?”

“It’s not because I am sick. I’m just em-embarrassed.” You whispered the last part, and you couldn’t help but look away from Shouto in shame.

“Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed, Y/N?” You shut your mouth, refusing to speak. Shouto sensed your hesitation. The light slowly left his heterochromatic eyes and he bashfully looked away from you. “Is . . . is it because you don’t want to be seen with me?” he asked. “For fear that your crush will see us together and not return your affection?”

You let out a gasp in surprise. “What? No!” You are quick to reassure him—your actual crush—of your intentions. “That’s not it at all!”

Shouto met your gaze again. His eyes lit up with what looked like . . . anticipation? Hope? You weren’t sure, but your heart began to race in trepidation. “Then what is it?”

“I like you,” you blurted out. You shut your eyes and covered your face with your hands, trying to hide from your drowning embarrassment. “Like, not even a little bit, but, like, really, really like you.” You whispered from behind your hands.

There was no immediate response from the dual-haired male. You didn’t dare to remove your hands from your face to check if he was still standing in front of you.

He probably didn’t hear me. You internally slapped yourself upside the head.

Before you could react, Shouto was carefully removing your hands from your face. His touch was gentle, like he was afraid you would crack and break under his fingertips. “Why are you hiding from me?” he whispered. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared wide-eyed at him.

“I—I.” Despite your efforts, words weren’t able to come out of your mouth.

“You should never feel like you need to hide,” he continued. He let out an airy tsk before he reached his hand up and gently tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear. You felt your face heat up even more at the action. “Especially from me.”

What.

“W-what?” you voiced aloud. You blinked a couple times, trying to bring your brain back from the brink of short-circuiting.

Shouto chuckled lowly, moving impossibly closer into your space. “I think you need to get your hearing checked out, love.”

You blinked some more. “What?”

“Have I broken you?” he asked, the corner of his perfect lips turning up at the thought. “First you forget your words, and now you have lost your hearing. . .” he trailed off as he continued to stare intently into your eyes.

What is he playing at. . .? you wondered as you blankly stared at him.

The two of you stood there and took each other in for quite a while. In reality, it mustn’t have been for very long—at most a minute and a half—but to you, it felt like hours. You were so close you could see the light reflecting in his heterochromatic eyes and the small streaks of gray in the turquoise-colored one.

“I . . . like you, too,” Shouto suddenly confessed, violently snapping you out of the daze his proximity causes. “I have harbored feelings for you for some time now.”

WHAT!?

“You . . . do?” you asked, skeptical. You were hesitant to believe his words in fear that this whole thing was some sick prank. But—

No. Shouto isn’t that type of person, you thought. He barely understands humor as it is, so he must be telling the truth.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Oh, um.” You fumbled again for words, embarrassment flooding your entire system once more. You licked your dry lips, missing the way Shouto’s eyes locked onto the movement. “Cool.”

Shouto blinked at you, one of his perfect eyebrows raising. “Cool?” he repeated with a sly smile overcoming his lips.

“Mhm.” You dumbly nodded. “Cool.” You paused before muttering a small, “Ditto.”

He chuckled again, subtly moving the tiniest bit closer to you. He was just about crowding you into the corner at this point. “Ditto, huh?” He mumbled under his breath with a widening smirk playing at his lips. “I think I have broken you, dear.”

You grinned. “Perhaps.” Shouto chuckled again before falling silent. The two of you stared at the other, lost in each other’s gazes.

“Can I kiss you?” He spoke on an exhale, his deep voice somehow even deeper. Before you could internally flip the fuck out and fully comprehend what was happening, you were already nodding. That was all the confirmation Shouto needed before he brought your lips in for a sensual kiss. Fireworks exploded behind your eyelids as you relaxed into him.

You smiled into the kiss. Thank you, chopsticks.

The next day, you and Shouto walked into the classroom holding hands. Everyone collectively stopped what they were doing to openly gape at the two of you as Shouto, always the gentleman, escorted you to your seat. The shocked silence lasted all but three seconds before Mina and Tooru let out ear-piercing shrieks and practically tackled you.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Mina was shouting meanwhile Tooru was holding onto you so tight to the point that she was nearly crushing you into her invisible body.

“AHHHH, I knew this was gonna happen!” she exclaimed before somehow pulling you in closer.

“Can’t . . . breathe.” You wheezed out before your boyfriend pulled you away from the two fangirls and protectively held you to his chest.

“I would be grateful if you didn’t crush my girlfriend to death, Tooru.” He intoned in his naturally dry tenor. His statement only made them freak out even more.

“Ah! Look at the two love birds!” Ochako swooned.

“Fuckin’ disgustin’,” grumbled a deep voice from somewhere in the back of the room.

Before you could turn to shoot Bakugou a death glare, Shouto was already clapping back. “What, are you jealous, Bakugou?”

The desks which had surrounded the blond a moment prior were blown to shiverines.

“I’LL END YOU!”

Fin.

→ extras: snapshot 1, snapshot 2, fic tag

No plagiarizing, re-uploading, translating, or copying of any kind or on any platform of my writing or inserted into any type of AI generator. Do not recommend my work on TikTok. Do not repost on YouTube.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

can I have a moon knight x fem reader smut

which the reader is dating the moon knight system and she’s a avatar of thoth that the moon boys find out on accident

Ahhh, thank you so much for this ask! I am so sorry it has taken so long!

Twin Moons

Steven Grant x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: You go back to Steven's after a date.

Warnings:, Kissing, pet names, oral sex (both receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, surprise god, not beta read, swearing, overuse of italics, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 2788

“So this is the place.” Steven smiles a little nervously, he scratches the back of his head as he gestures to his living room with his other hand. “Sorry it’s a little messy, I didn’t think- presume, I mean. That you’d be coming back, that’s not polite, is it? No. I mean-” He sighs, screwing up his eyes, and you can’t stop the twist of affection in your chest. 

“Steven,” You smile and take his hand, bringing it to your lips and lightly kissing his knuckles. “It’s okay.” 

His shoulders relax slightly. “Sorry, I’m getting all in my head aren’t I?” 

You shake your head. “It’s cute.” 

He pulls a face. “Cute isn’t exactly what I’m going for…” He glances at the mirror on the side and gives his reflection a glare. 

“What’s Marc saying?” 

“Taking the mick.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the little scowl on his face. The way his nose scrunches is adorable. 

“Tell Marc,” You squeeze Steven’s hand reassuringly, “I’m very much looking forward to my date with him tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” He looks back to you. “He’s just still pissy about the fact that I won paper, rock, scissors.” They’d decided that after a few casual dates with both of them, that it was time for separate (ish) dates. And what separate really meant was they could choose the location and activity on their own without the other's input. And without too many snide comments.

You giggle, “Is that how you decided?” 

Steven gives you a bashful smile, something you’re sure he simply must know what effect it has on you. “ We didn’t tell you that, did we?” 

You shake your head. “It’s cute.” You repeat. 

“I’m starting to think I’m getting stuck in the ‘cute’ area here.” 

“Oh really?” You tease. 

He nods and steps a little closer to you. “It’s a very serious concern love.” 

“What’s so wrong with the ‘cute’ zone, it’s cute?” 

He pulls a face, an over the top expression to make you smile. “It’s fine, really, and normally I’d be all for it. It’s just not where I want to be right now.” He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. Lightly, he places his hands on your hips. It’s a feather touch, barely there. His hands are radiating warmth, like all his pent up nervous energy is trying to escape through his skin. 

“And where do you want to be?” You ask sweetly as you rest your hands on his chest. His heartbeat speeds under your fingers, thumping so fast it’s almost a blur. 

“Between your legs.” He says softly, and quickly. Immediately he screws his face up and smacks his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Oh my god, I’msososorry, that was just fucking awful.” 

You grin, unable to suppress your chuckle. “Hey,” you take hold of his wrist and pull his hand lightly away from his face. “I liked it.” 

“No, you didn’t love, don’t tell tales.” He pretends to chastise but you can see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. 

“I did.” 

He shakes his head, “No, I refuse to believe it. It was awful and you’re too wonderful to put up with something like tha-”

You quickly lean forward and kiss him, it’s light and soft and you’re careful not to bump your teeth against his as he is still speaking. But quickly Steven sighs, wrapping his arms around you and cradling the back of your neck. He presses closer when you go to move away, his plush lips moving against yours hypnotisingly. 

You shiver when he darts out his tongue, just teasing the edge of your bottom lip and then retreating when you part your lips. 

You moan softly, screwing up the front of his shirt in your hand as you move your body flush against his, trying to capture his tongue when he teases again. 

He lightly grinds the outline of his semi-hard cock against you, and this time when he retreats again you follow, licking into his mouth eagerly. 

Steven groans softly, welcoming you immediately as you deepen the kiss and racing to react to your every move. His sounds vibrate through his chest, buzzing along your fingers in the most pleasant way. 

When he pulls back his lips are shiny and kiss swollen, there is a soft hint of pink to his cheeks, just highlighting the tan of his skin. 

Steven takes hold of your hand lightly, guiding you slowly to the bed and watching you with his large eyes intently. Seemingly waiting for you to object. 

His breathing hitches as you both come to a stop by the edge of the mattress. 

He swallows, opening his mouth to speak as he rubs his fingers together a little hesitantly. But you kiss him again, swallowing his anxiety as you gently coax him down to sit. You trail your lips over his jaw, his neck, sucking just under his ear and delighting in the shiver and soft sigh he gifts you with.

“That’s really nice.” He mutters, his voice thick. Lightly, he puts his hands on your back as he presses closer, angling himself more and more into your embrace. 

He jumps deliciously when you run your nails up his inner thighs, just missing the solid outline of his cock straining the material. 

Quickly, you untuck and then unbutton his shirt, starting from the bottom and distracting him with your teeth on his skin. 

He groans, his eyelashes fluttering as you suck a love bite into the hollow of his throat. The sound sends a spiral of heat to your belly. 

“Oh, love,” he bites his lip as you push his shirt off his shoulders and nip lightly at his clavicle. The material stays bunched up around his wrists and elbows as you sink down to your knees, kissing a messy trail down his chest to just above his belly button. 

“You, erm, you don’t have to, I mean, only if you want- I mean,” he screws up his face. “I’m assuming here, aren’t I? Yes. What I mean is, it’s not… I don’t expect you to-”

You bite lightly at his belly, hardly more than a grazing of your teeth, but he yelps then giggles in surprise, looking down at you with large eyes. 

“I want you.” You smile. “You’re gonna be good and let me, aren’t you?” You tease, expecting a classic sassy Steven comeback. 

Instead, he audibly gulps, his throat bobbing. “I…” he breathes, his voice low. “Yes.” 

You bite back a smile as you undo his belt and hurriedly unzip his jeans. 

Steven’s thighs shake as he holds himself back, excitement races along his veins at lightning speed. He holds onto the side of the mattress with both hands, trying to focus on keeping himself as still as possible. 

You waste little time as you hook your fingers under his waistband and urge him up a fraction. He raises his hips obediently as you pull his jeans and boxers down to his calves. 

The sight of his cock bouncing free makes your mouth practically water. He’s slightly curved, the tip just brushing against his navel and leaving a snail trail of shinny precome on his soft skin. 

You can’t help yourself as you lightly run your forefinger down his length, reveling in how it jumps under your touch.

Steven sighs desperately, his heart beating so hard in his chest he’s sure he’s going to pass out any second. 

Gently, you cup his balls, just kneading them and feeling the weight of them in your hand for a second. Steven graces you with another breathy moan for your trouble. His pubic hair is neat and trimmed, a little softer than you expected and you can’t help but wonder if he uses conditioner regularly down there, or if this was in hopeful preparation for seeing you.

“You’ve got such a pretty cock.” You whisper and Steven gasps.

He thrusts weakly towards you, unable to hold himself completely back. “Thank, thank you.” He bites his bottom lip the second the words are out of his mouth, looking bashful. 

You smile reassuringly and give his balls a light squeeze before you take the base of his length in hand and flick your tongue across the tip.

He swears, loudly. His back arching as you open your mouth and sink him a few inches past your lips. 

“Shit, shit.” He groans, his thighs practically vibrating under the force of holding himself still. “That’s really- feels so- thank you, oh god, thank you!” He sighs and pants, his head thrown back as he weakly rocks into your mouth, moaning louder and louder as you swallow him deeper and deeper. 

It’s so warm and wet, he’s sure he’s died and gone to heaven as pleasure rushes along his nerves and settles at the base of his spine. You squeeze his hip with one hand, encouraging him to move as you bob your head. 

“Love, fuck, love, please.” He gasps, his skin burning. “Please, please. Can we, can you? Fuuuck.” He bucks lightly, nudging at the back of your throat. “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.” 

You pull off him slowly with a pop, lightly tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue so he shivers again. “So?” You smile at him.

He pants hard, sweat beading at his temples. “I… can… I think I’d like to fuck you before I finish.”

“You think?” 

He pulls a face at your tease and you giggle. “I know.” 

“Oh, okay.” You stand up, “because you know then.” 

He grins, giving you a familiar sassy look as he takes hold of your hips and starts to pull up your dress. He watches you carefully, checking for any sign that you want him to stop. Instead, you stroke your hand through his hair. 

He shivers, preening into your touch. 

He groans loudly when he sees your underwear, the outline of your pussy and the damp patch that has soaked through. Lightly, he strokes it, swallowing, still holding your dress up with one hand. 

You’re not quite sure what you expect, but it’s not how desperately he pulls your underwear to the side, too eager to waste time by pulling them down. 

He swears lightly, his eyes rolling back at the sight before quickly leaning forward and latching onto your clit greedily. 

You gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair and he groans loudly as he sucks rhymically, easing your bundle of nerves out past his lips before coaxing it back in. 

You can’t help but pull his hair, mirroring the intoxicating pattern of his mouth and eagering a happy whine from him in the process.

“Steven,” you swallow harder, practically gasping for air as he pleases you, his lips so soft and slow. The movement is hypnotic, lulling you into a deep build as the threat of impending pleasure builds at your core. 

He moans against you, sucking and sucking until you’re sure he’s going to pull your soul out of your body. 

Your body tenses, shakes, so close to pulling you over that sweet edge. 

With a herculean strength you lightly push him back, your palm against his forehead. 

He gulps, his eyes lidded and lust blown as he gazes up at you, his cheeks flushed. His voice is a little unsure when he speaks. “Was that…?” 

“I want to come on your cock.” You pause as he groans, and then add. “Please.” 

Steven nods, not trusting his own voice in that moment. You both help each other completely out of your clothing quickly. But he puts his hands on yours when you go to take off your high heels. Normally you would have taken them off at the front door, but in the rush you hadn’t had a chance. 

“Can you… leave them on, love?” He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“You want me to?” You tease lightly, and he nods eagerly. “Didn’t take you as that kind of guy?”

He giggles and shifts back a little into the centre of the bed. “I don’t know, you just look so hot with them on. Is that okay?”

You nod. “More than okay.” You kneel on the bed, your legs either side of his as you inch forward. He leans back a little, propping himself up on his elbows as you cage him in. He watches you eagerly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Warmth radiates off of his body, permeating the air around him. 

He moans sweetly when you take hold of his cock again, wriggling his hips to move into a slightly better position for you. 

You pump him twice before you lean down and spit onto his dick. Steven groans, his eyes rolling back and cock jumping as you smear your saliva along his skin. 

Painfully slowly you line him up with your soaking entrance, rocking back and forth against his tip but not easing down.

“Can you, fuck,” he swears softly, a little embarrassed before he clears his throat. “Can you tell me how you like it?” He asks so sweetly, his eyes closed and lips parted.

“Yeah?” 

He nods. “While you, shit-” He lets out a loud moan as you start to sink down, a broken string of ‘thank yous’ falling out of his mouth with every breath. “Please, while we fuck, tell me how, tell me what you want?”

“What if I just want you to be still and take it?” You tease, barely managing to keep your voice steady and own sounds of pleasure under control. “Be my own personal fuck toy?”

He swears, gasping for air. “Please.”

“You’d like that?” You groan. 

He’s so thick, you’re barely halfway down and you’re sure you can feel him in your lungs. You ease back up a fraction before you sink down further, getting used to his stretch and size. 

“Yes.” He whines. “Want you just to use me to come.” He breathes hard. “Any time you want, just, just tell me and you can ride my cock or my mouth and just come all over me.” He shivers, his hips bucking up a little at the thought. 

He slides his hands up and down your thighs, moving to sit up more so he can palm your calves and then grab at the sturdy heels of your shoes. “Fuck.” 

The angle change makes him just slide all the way in, bullying his fat cock into your aching heat. 

You gasp his name, groaning as his pubic bone rubs wonderfully against your clit. 

A rumble of approval sounds from his chest. “God, yeah. Just…” He thrusts slowly, rolling his hips against yours so he barely leaves your heat and instead grinds deeply. 

His grip tightens on your shoes as he pulls you back and forth, fucking you onto his cock. 

Your hands fly to his shoulders, your fingers digging in as pleasure bubbles in your lower stomach. 

“Good?” He whines. 

You nod rapidly, not fully trusting your own voice.

“Can, can you come like this?” 

You nod again and he whimpers. The tip of his cock brushes deliciously deep, rubbing deliciously and harmonising with the relentless grind against your clit. 

“Love, fuck, I want you to come so badly, I want to feel you squeeze me and just make a mess of me.” He whines, moving faster to match the pace of your hips. “I’m, I’m gonna come, I can’t help it. You feel so good, so good, so good for me, fuck, please, please, can you? Please? Can I? Can?” 

You shiver as your orgasm hits you suddenly, bucking weakly as you soak his cock. Your body burns and sings as the pleasure is squeezed from you, pulled perfectly as you shake and moan in Steven’s ear. 

He follows you half a second later, your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer as he fills you as deeply as he can. 

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close and snuggling into your neck as you relax against him. “Love, that was-”

“I am in need of your assistance.” Thoth’s booming voice from behind you makes you practically jump out of your skin. The god was not so hot on personal boundaries and had apparently chosen now to appear out of the ether. Well, at the very least it was now, and not a minute ago.

For a second you think Steven’s accompanying flinch is simply because he felt you do it, surprised by your own surprise. 

“What the fuck?” His grip on you tightens and you frown in confusion, from your position you miss his shocked expression, how he stares at the god. 

There’s no way he could see Thoth, was there?

Thank you so much for reading!

Taglist 1:

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @steven-grants-world  @blushingrn @to-be-a-sunshine

 @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin

@reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr 

@spxctorsslxt @novarosewood @hammerhead96 @emma23  @mylittledelulucorner

@sub-aro @killerdollz @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist 

@dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious @homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop 

@oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 

@pigeonmama @marcsb1tch @iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan 

@faretheeoscar @lonelyisamyw-0love  @queerponcho @twwcs @ingoldthewizard

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[calaisreno]

Re-Read Recs: Victorian Edition

Thanks to @totallysilvergirl for pointing me to this post by @acethatlovesdinos asking for more Victorian Johnlock. Your timing is great; I was just compiling a list of Victorian setting fics for my next RRR post!

If you go searching specifically for Johnlock in a Victorian setting, part of the problem, as always, will be finding things. As admirable as the AO3 tagging system is, when you're searching for something specific, you still have to dig a bit.

Many people, myself included, assign all their Victorian stories to the fandom tag "Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle."

But some writers add "Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle" to all their stories, including those set in BBC or other adaptations, because they wish to attribute the characters' creator.

And some do not use the ACD tag at all because their stories, even those in a Victorian setting, are inspired by the BBC adaptation and imagined with those characters.

There are other tags: Victorian, Victorian Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Victorian Holmes/Watson, Victorian Johnlock.

(My own approach: readers may imagine whatever actors they prefer; I tag by the setting. Even so, I've tagged stories set in the 1920s and 1820s as ACD, even though these are outside of the Victorian Era.)

There is no one-click method to separate out all the stories, and only the stories, where Watson and Holmes are together in a Victorian setting. AO3 lets us use tags however we wish; it's a folksonomy, a collaborative system. For the number and variety of stories contained there, it is the most practical method.

You can search an individual author's works, filtering and sorting by kudos, hits, relationships, tags, and other things. You can search anyone's bookmarks in the same way. (I'm always surprised when people don't know this!)

If you search my works, for example, you will find 60 stories in the Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle fandom. A couple of those are tagged 'timetravel,' so if you don't want that, you can exclude that tag. If you don't want any stories with Mary Morstan married to John Watson, you can exclude John Watson/Mary Morstan under Relationships.

However you search, if you filter your search results by hits or kudos, you will find that stories in the ACD/Victorian Johnlock category have many fewer of these. AO3 went live only a year or so before BBC Sherlock began to air, and it was one of the top fandoms for many years. There are a huge number of stories in the BBC fandom.

But there are dedicated and talented authors who have been writing Holmes/Watson for a long time, and today I'd like to point you towards a few of them. Here are some of my favorite re-reads:

Memento Vivere - @mydogwatson - The life stories of Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes and John Watson. An alternate history.

My Gentle Sin Is This - janeofarc - It takes a near miss for Holmes to realize that he cannot imagine his life without Watson.

Missing Pages - @PlaidAdder - a group of interlinked short stories (most between 2000 and 7000 words) which tell the story of how Holmes and Watson really came to be separated at the Reichenbach Falls, and how they found each other again

Missing - @Random_Nexus - Holmes is missing. Watson is trying to figure out where he is and what happened.

Oubliette - gardnerhill - A series: a treatise on love and grief. Watson is kidnapped by a gang; Holmes must find him before it's too late.

Laphroaig in the Lumber Room - wordybirdy - Holmes & Watson discover a bottle of Laphroaig inside the lumber room at Baker Street. A drinking game of truth results in intimate confessions.

All of these authors have written many excellent Victorian Holmes/Watson fics. But there are many more you should look at if you want to read more of our boys in their original canon setting. I think I will have to write a Part 2 for this post!

Thanks for reblogging!

@totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes

@redmondcollege @raina-at @7-percent @lhrinchelsea

@a-victorian-girl @ghostofnuggetspast @friday411

@meetinginsamarra @inevitably-johnlocked @copperplatebeech

[margowritesthings]

A Job Well Done

pairing: Arthur Morgan x reader (f) word count: 4944 words warnings: 18+ minors dni, sexually explicit, oral (f giving), rough oral, a little choking, a touch of voyeurism, explicit language, it's pretty much a blowjob fic authors note: idk what to say... this started as a little drabble because me and my fiancé love having a little smoke together at night and.... well, here we are I guess?? i hope you enjoy you lovely lot, and if you've asked to be tagged and you're not please let me know!! I have a new system for keeping track of my taglist and I may have lost some requests in the transfer

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries @delilah-grimes @mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i *if i've missed you please let me know!!!*

You pull Arthur’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, settling into the old wooden chair while it creaks beneath you. Thanks to being in the middle of the Lemoyne swamps, it isn’t too cold despite the moon hanging so high in the sky above you, the jacket is more for comfort. From where you sit, you can see near the whole camp, watching lanterns flicker off incrementally as each member of your makeshift family retires for the night. A few of the boys stay up, drinking by the fire, their voices muffled and distant in the thick air.

It’s been a week to the day since you last saw Arthur, before he left to track a rather sizable bounty down and attempt to cushion out the camp funds, and God do you miss him. The days feel so much longer, nights so lonely you’ve considered saddling up and finding the bastard yourself just to bring him home sooner. Comfort can be found, though, in the ways Arthur’s presence has bled so deeply into your life that his physical being doesn’t even need to be here. 

His smell lingers on the jacket he left (the one he wore every day before he had to leave just so you could wear it when you missed him), that perfect mix of tobacco and whiskey and something so ineffably Arthur that you soak up every time you wrap it around your frame. 

He’s there in the routines you've built your lives around, intertwined as they are, the ones you can’t shake even if he’s not beside you. The cup of coffee in a morning, his so much better tasting than yours but you try anyway. The first morning after he left, you made two, ending up giving the extra to a very grateful Abigail to save face.

There’s a nightly routine, too. The one where you get ready for bed, then climb through the window to meet him on your balcony. He’s always there waiting with a cigarette hanging from his lips, patting his lap ready for you to crawl on. He’ll drag a match across his boot, (or sometimes the bottom of yours, if you’re still wearing them) lighting up the smoke before handing it to you. You’ll pass it between each other, catching up on your days, limbs entangled just how they should be as you watch Shady Belle fall asleep around you. 

Without him, those routines bring you comfort, grasping onto the remnants of your cowboy until his safe return. That’s why you’re sitting in this spot, pulling a cigar out of the little tin stash box Arthur left behind. Normally it’s just a cigarette, you could never survive a cigar a night and have the throat to tell the tale, but there’s something inexplicably Arthur about this brand of smokes, something you’re seeking tonight. 

You pluck a match from the tin, striking it against the table beside you, never having gotten the knack of igniting the thing on your boot as effortlessly as Arthur does, and light the cigar between your lips. The all-familiar woody essence dances across your tongue, your tired muscles relaxing from the first few tokes. 

It’s just you, the moon and the crickets as you sit on the balcony, Arthur’s smoke between your lips. You wonder what he’s doing. He should be sleeping, but knowing him he’s probably up planning, or doing exactly what you are right now. You pray he’s safe, hasn’t been gotten by the law or worse, gotten himself killed. You can’t let yourself even think about that, the very idea bringing a tremble to your limbs. To combat the sudden spike in anxiety, the next time you bring the cigar to your lips you drag in just that bit more smoke, letting it soak down your spine. Not nearly as experienced in smoking as Arthur, you cough a little, but you recover much quicker than you used to. 

Memories of that first time, of Arthur offering you the little brown stick and you nervously nodding, bring a little smile to your face. Oh, how you spluttered, Arthur giving you his drink on instinct, only realising that the whiskey burn would do the opposite of help once it was too late. You’d have been in your right mind to be embarrassed as hell, but by the way he chuckled as he rubbed circles around your back told you that he found it nothing but adorable. 

You sit there for a few minutes, basking in the precious peace so seldom found nowadays and taking a drag every now and then, the smoke riding a sigh from your lips. Your eyes slip closed, trying to shut off as many senses as you can to really connect with that smell and taste, imagining him emerging from your bedroom window to be here with you. 

He’s much less graceful than you are, often catching some part of his person on the windowsill when he climbs out onto the balcony. So many nights spent patching up little holes in his pant legs, right where that out sticking nail used to be in the frame before he ‘bested it in combat’ (i.e. pulled it out with a hunting knife and threw it ceremoniously in the lake). 

Manifestation is a powerful tool, you’ve always believed that, but you still nearly jump out of your skin when you feel a large hand grasp your shoulder just as you imagined, Arthur’s gruff, hushed whisper tickling the words “hey, sweetheart” into the skin of your neck. It takes you a second to catch your breath, heart racing from the shock before everything registers and reality sets in. 

“Arthur?”

He’s here.

“C’mere, darlin’.”

You fly out of your seat, the rickety old thing nearly splintering under the force, launching yourself into his open arms to burrow yourself into him.  Every part of him consumes your senses and you drink it all in like an addict. The smell, the real thing, much more of that Arthur essence than the whiskey or cigars, probably because he forewent breaks in his journey for those little pleasures to get back to you sooner. 

He seems to be taking you in as much as you are him, inhaling long through his nose and sighing it out contentedly, feeling whole again after so long without you in his arms.

“I missed ya’, beautiful.” He says softly into your hair, holding you tight against him, his knuckles brushing up and down the small of your back through layers of clothes you’ve stolen from him. 

“I missed you so much…” You mumble into his shirt, hardly able to breathe through the wall of hard chest muscle you’re pressed against, caring even less. 

It’s only then do you remember the cigar, forgotten and abandoned, smoking away on the table propped up on a jar lid turned makeshift ashtray. Most of the boys don’t bother with one, and neither did Arthur, until a fateful night a few months before you started dating when you first handed him the jar and told him you read something about birds and rabbits eating the butts of cigarettes. He kept the little piece of junk right next to his bedside, waiting for you to find it after that first night together. 

Arthur spots your momentary pull of attention, pulling his chest away to raise a brow down at you with a little chuckle rumbling his chest.

“Having a fancy smoke of a night, are we?” 

A cheeky little smirk- Arthur’s favourite, actually- tugs at the corner of your lips, waiting patiently for him to kiss it away.

“The smell reminds me of you…” you play coy, earring yourself that kiss when Arthur lifts you up to his height, kissing you softly, letting his world and yours fall back into place together. 

“Well I’m here now, angel. Wanna sit? Could do with a nice cigar with my girl to celebrate a job well done.” 

You’re eager to nod, heart fluttering at the prospect of getting to sit with him and hear all about his trip. He untangles from you to sit down first, patting his lap for you to crawl into. You fit perfectly together (you should do, you were made for eachother), head resting on his shoulder, legs splayed over his thighs with your arm draped over his shoulder. The cigar has gone out, so Arthur strikes a match so expertly on his spurs before shaking it out and placing his hand on the small of your back for support. You lean into him, watching him take puffs of the cigar and feeling the tiniest bit of tension leave his joints. He looks so natural with a smoke between his teeth, commanding an air of power with each movement he makes. Smoking doesn’t suit just everyone, you think, but God, does it suit him.

“We’re celebrating? You got the bastard, then?”

“Sure did,” he says, smoke spilling from his lips with each syllable. Arthur looks you over again, drinking in the dearly missed view, before kissing you on the forehead and flipping the cigar between his fingers to offer it up, “Eventually found him up in Fort Brennand, but he weren’t alone. Nearly lost a damn eye, but luckily only Woffard had to be brought in alive, so I dropped the other bastards and ran.”

You hang on his every word, your hero. You know he’s downplaying the fight, the danger of it all, but he does it so that you don’t worry every time he’s gone. It never works, and you always do, but you love him for trying. 

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so glad you’re alright…” You coo, pressing a hand to his cheek, feeling the weeks worth of stubble scratching against your palm. He nuzzles into your touch, not unlike a cat, and your find yourself keeping your hand there to mindlessly play with his hair, tipping his hat off to put on your own head. He chuckles, reaching to adjust it on you.

“Course I am, couldn’t leave you here all alone with this buncha’ fools, could I? Besides, someones gotta bring home the bacon around here, and you know Marston’s too trigger happy to bring a bounty in alive.”

“So you got the full price?” Your eyes gleam, the proudest smile on your features as Arthur nods and shifts both your weights for a moment to pull out a stack of bills and smack them on the table dramatically.

“You’re damn straight I did, baby.”

Of course he did. Arthur never fails, and God knows how much the camp needs this right now, freedoms diminishing by the day as Dutch makes more enemies and plans jobs that just seem to keep going wrong. But you don’t want to think about that right now. Right now, there is only you and Arthur, and the promise of a whole night spent with him uninterrupted. You hand him the cigar back, along with a stolen kiss, and he takes another mesmerising drag. The way he holds it, every so often tipping the ash into the first gift you ever gave him, it does things to you that you just can’t explain. It’s just a cigar, and yet you’re pressing your thighs together tight to futilely subdue the tightness coiling between them. 

“I’m so proud of you… I always am.” Unkempt locks of hair are twisted between your fingers, your face so close to Arthur’s you can pepper his cheek, temple and lips, whenever not occupied, with little kisses, Arthur’s hat sometimes tipping up against his forehead on your head. The two of you are always like this after a few days apart, unable to get enough of each other or keep your hands off one another. You shift your weight to access him better, catching his bottom lip between your teeth to press a long, tender kiss there. He hums under you, hand splaying under your jacket to grasp at your shirt. It’s seconds before you feel it, that hardening that nudges up against your thigh, prodding and reminding you just how much Arthur has missed you.

You pull away from the kiss, just enough to raise a teasing brow at how sensitive your cowboy is to your touch. He shrugs, unashamed, with that cheeky grin and those glistening eyes directed right at you. 

“What? I missed ya…” His words are accompanied with a pinch of your ass, which makes you writhe on top of his stiffness, the friction dragging a low growl from deep within his chest. 

“I can see that, cowboy… I missed you too. I missed you more.” You emphasise, nipping at his lip again and splaying your fingers across his chest. He rises to your touch, and you feel him stiffen more so under you. It takes a second of manoeuvring, but you’re soon straddling him, hovering above him like the angel he sees you to be. From this angle, with the moon behind you, you’re glowing. 

“You absolutely did not, you little siren…” He growls again, pulling at the flesh of your ass so that you’re grinding against him, the friction of denim against denim igniting you both and burning so wonderfully. 

“Oh, yeah? I can prove it.” There’s a little cock of your head, a raise of one teasing brow as you start to slide off him. He looks confused, disappointed, even, until your knees rest on the planks of wood on the balcony floor and he instinctively spreads his legs to give you the space between them. Your fingers splay across his thick thighs, and they tense under your touch, as does Arthur’s jaw. He’s starved after a week without you, clearly trying to reign in a control he’s struggling to possess. There’s no wonder, having his girl knelt before him like this. 

“You wanna take this to the bedroom?” He growls out, abandoning the still smoking cigar in the jar lid. You look up at him, peeking out from under the rim of his hat. 

“No.” You reach for the cigar, taking a few drags yourself before flipping it in your fingers just like he did and placing it between his teeth, “Finish your smoke.”

A distant laugh captures Arthur’s attention for a second, reminding you both just how close you are to the other gang members. You’re somewhat hidden by the railing, but if they looked in your direction, Arthur is fully visible from the chest up. A simple bob of your head- and you’re planning on plenty- would bring you into view. 

The look Arthur gives you when he quickly diverts his attention back from Marston and the others is downright feral, especially when your hands reach for his belt buckle. Nimble fingers make quick word of the obstruction, and you’re soon pulling Arthur’s thick, long length out from his jeans. He groans at your very touch, involuntarily bucking his hips up into your hand. 

You laugh, the sound a tempting little giggle as you tell him “Patience, cowboy…” 

He almost snarls in response, clearly having been goddamn patient enough over the last week where all he could do is fuck himself with your name on his lips and the thought of you knelt just like this between his legs at the forefront of his mind, always. 

Just as you lean in, when your soft lips trace over his rosy, swollen head, he pulls you back by plucking his hat from atop your head and throwing it to the side. He rests the cigar between the fingers of his free hand to free his mouth to speak to you.

“Need to see you while I fuck that pretty little moutha’ yours, angel…”

His words soak through you (and soak you through), and you just can’t wait a second longer, needy to have his cock deep down your throat, desperate for the burning of your lungs and the stinging in your eyes when he loses that control he so often vehemently clings to. 

Unable to wait a second longer, you run your tongue from base to tip, feeling every vein pulsing under your muscle and eliciting a deep groan from Arthur. When you finally take him in your mouth, his hand reaches to cup your cheek, following you down as you take as much of him as you can. 

“Fuck.” He groans, fingers reaching to tangle in your hair, scratching at your scalp. He’s probably louder than he should be, your eyes flickering to the general direction of the others as a warning, but they soon snap back to your cowboy, an intense eye contact burning at your skin as the head of his cock bumps the back of your throat. Arthur never takes his eyes off you, guiding you up and down his length and bringing the smoke to his lips. The tip of the cigar flares a deep, fiery orange, and smoke billows from his mouth with each laboured breath you coax from him. The way he’s sitting, fingers of one hand pulling at your hair, controlling your movements, and the other limply holding the smoke, he exudes a power many seek to master but never quite get. It makes your heart swell and your cunt throb for him, knowing on your knees before him is the only place you ever want to be, knowing only you inhabit it. 

You can taste Arthur, his salty essence leaking from the pure ecstasy you’re providing and spit pools in your throat, mixing with it and dribbling down your chin. Arthur catches it with his thumb, guiding you off his cock to push the digit into your mouth and let you suckle from it. You do, hungrily, adjusting on your knees to better take Arthur deep down your throat and-

“Arthur! That you?” 

Marston. 

For eyes widen at each other, Arthur instinctively pushing you a little lower by your shoulder to keep you out of sight. John hasn’t seen you, and you’d like to keep it that way, being in the incriminating position you are between Arthur’s legs. 

You spot the irritated sigh, the twitch of Arthur’s jaw as he plasters a fake friendliness onto his features and peers over the balcony to see his brother standing on the clearing below. 

“Sure is. Whatchu’ want?”

Straight to the point.

“We didn’t hear you get back. How long’ve you been here?”

All that tension you’ve worked so hard to dissipate comes back to Arthur’s form with a crashing force. You can almost hear his plea for just one second a’ goddamn peace, merely by the way he sighs before answering. 

“Not long, thought I’d try and sneak past you fools and get some shut eye.”

Subtle, cowboy.

Ever oblivious, or simply not caring, John continues, “How’d it go, then? You got the bastard?”

He has you pressed against his thigh to hide you from sight, cock standing to attention right beside your face. It’s too tempting, especially with a none the wiser Marston stood right below. When your tongue darts out, hovering above Arthur’s twitching, aching cock, his eyes flick down to you, warning residing deep in his eyes. You take it as less of a warning, more a challenge.

You wouldn’t.

Oh, but I would.

And you do. You lift up, just enough to fit the head of his throbbing cock past your lips and slide the whole length in. It bumps the back of your throat, but upon hearing Arthur’s strangled, poorly hidden groan, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

“Y-uh… Yeah, I got ‘em…” 

It’s impressive, how he can just about hold a conversation despite his cock being so far down your throat his balls rest on your chin. 

You can’t see John, but you can only imagine how his head must tilt and his brows must pull together at the strange response from Arthur. 

“You alright, brother?”

He won’t be.

You blink up at Arthur, feigning an innocent, near angelic expression as you inhale through your nose and push him even further into you. You hum, low and quiet, letting the vibrations pass through him. Arthur whimpers, instantly knocking any and all sounds you’ve ever heard from top spot and replacing them as your favourite in the whole world. 

“I-I’m fine. Just tired.” He tries to hint again, to no avail. His fingers are digging into your shoulder with a bruising force, that control slipping bit by bit with every passing second, every little movement. Tears prick at your eyes, that burning in your lungs you’ve been reaching for finally igniting. You’re stuffed with him, feeling so full that it’s hard to breathe. When you go to release him, to be able to gasp for precious air, you realise you can’t, Arthur’s huge hand holding you right in place with his palm flush against the back of your neck. Revenge. 

“Where’s the Mrs?”

A raise of a brow. You’re not married, but everything is so naturally right between you and Arthur that the gang just seem to have defaulted to that. It makes you beam, wanting nothing more than to be this man’s wife, the kind of wife that makes him cum down your throat while he has a menial conversation. 

“S-She’s- fuck…” When he grips harder at you, you gag around his length, tears now streaming down your cheeks and mixing with your spittle and the little bits of precum that leak out from Arthur. “She’s in bed. I-I better go check on her, a-actually.” He whimpers again, fingers now gripping into your hair to keep you in place. You’re not sure how much longer you can last like this, struggling to breathe, overflowing and, God, so wet for him. 

John sounds unconvinced. You’d giggle, if you could.

“Alright… Well, g’night, brother.”

Arthur barely manages a grunt, and you can feel his thighs tensing and twitching from the sheer effort of not bucking his hips up into you and giving the pair of you away. He stills, most likely waiting for Marston to fuck off already, before he rips you away from him and pulls you to your feet, gripping your aching jaw with force enough force to keep it open. 

“You goddamn siren.” He isn’t mad. He’s trying to be, but you know Arthur far too well, and he’s burning with a fire far hotter than mere anger. Need. 

The mischievous glint in your eye is all you can offer for response, what with his iron grip on your face, but you do manage to slip your tongue out and lick the pad of his thumb, tasting the mixture of fluids still lingering. 

It’s all getting too much, knowing what you just did and who you did it around, hearing Arthur unable to string a sentence together because of you. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, so desperate for a release that you’re pathetically writhing in Arthur’s hold. He notices, forced anger on his features replaced with a cockiness that only comes from knowing he’s regaining the power in the situation. 

Your cheeks tingle when he releases you, sitting back in the seat and leaning back, one elbow resting on the arm of the old wooden chair and picking the cigar back up. God, you could ride him in that chair till morning, if you thought the wood wouldn’t splinter under the force. 

“You gonna finish what you started, my little siren?” He asks, taking an especially long toke from the smoke while he waits for you to drop to your knees before him. Your cunt throbs, screaming out for his attention, but it would seem your antics have earned you punishment. 

Your knees hit the wood with a force, though an involuntary whimper escapes you, hips grinding pathetically against nothing. Arthur notices, smirking like a goddamn cheshire cat at his little wanton whore. 

“Patience, angel.” Your own words echo back to you like a slap in the face. You definitely deserve this.

The grip you had on the power in this game you’re playing with Arthur officially disappears when his hand snakes around the back of your neck, grasping at your hair and winding it around his wrist like a leash. You have to tilt your head so the tugging at your scalp is a mere burn rather than a sharp pain, but that’s just where he wants you. 

“Now, little siren, I’m gonna teach ya’ some manners, and you’re gonna finish what you started, alright? And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll think about getting that sweet little cunt of yours off…”

It’s all it takes, the promise of Arthur’s fingers deep inside you while he sucks on your clit just how you like it, lapping up your juices like a man starved, and the defiance in your eyes dissipates. Arthur bends you to his whim, messy, sloppy putty in his hands as he drags you onto his weeping cock. You’re all but drooling for him, leaking out of the corners of your mouth when he slips into you. Your scalp tingles with the pull, especially when Arthur involuntarily tightens his grip with a hiss of his breath. His tip bumps the back of your throat, but he doesn’t stop even when you’ve fit all of him in that you can.

“Fuck, good girl, just like that baby girl…” he groans, and when you open your eyes to look up to him, he is watching you with a gaze so intense you feel like it could tear you apart. The tension burns between you, coiling so tight the chirp of a nearby cricket could snap it. 

There’s an unspoken question in your eyes when you start to nearly choke on his length of when you’ll be released, but his eyes darken, “Come on, baby, you can take more, can’t you?” 

He seems to register your fear, but it phases him little. It seems more a challenge, really, coaxing him into rocking his hips into you, pushing you even further onto his cock until you feel it start to breach past your throat in a way you didn’t even know possible. You splutter, wriggling and writhing as you try your hardest to breathe through your nose. 

“Shh… good girl,” he coos, a ravenous look taking over your usually so lovable cowboy. You’ve pushed him, and God do you live for it. “Not much further… wanna see you take all of my cock, alright? You gonna do that for me, angel?” 

You can’t nod, but it isn’t much of a question, not much choice available with your limited movements and the way Arthur has completely commandeered your body. You’re irrevocably his, body and soul. 

It doesn’t feel possible to fit more of him in, your throat burning for relief that won’t come until Arthur is satisfied, but when he bucks his hips into you, you feel his base press against your nose. He groans hard, the noise initially from the sensation of having your throat wrapped around his cock, but when he sees the sight of you, tear stained and gagging on him, the moan is pulled out into a noise of pure ecstasy. 

“Good girl… my good fuckin’ girl.” 

His thumb rubs lovingly over your wet cheek, a sensation you cling to as the corners of your vision get fuzzy. Fuck, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you’re so desperate to feel Arthur’s spend trickling down your throat, feel him lose control and moan just for you that you’d honestly be willing to die for it. 

Your expression, complete with lust-fogged, watery eyes, and beautifully flushed skin, teases the last of Arthur’s restraint like a razor thin blade against that final thread. When it finally snaps, you’re allowed one gasp for air, before he’s thrusting back into you hard. You can feel him stiffen, even more so than before, as his hips splutter into your mouth and he starts to tumble over the precipice into that realm of pleasure that only the two of you share. 

“F-Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-” But he interrupts himself with a visceral, primal groan, the vibration of it shattering the both of you. You take advantage of his practically inebriated state to regain some of your own anatomy, managing to swirl your tongue around his pulsing head inside your mouth. The hot, salty spend blooms across your tongue at that, Arthur guiding you by the cheek to bob up and down on his cock while he paints your throat white. His moans are a melody you’ll never tire of, animalistic and vulnerable all the same. 

It feels like it never stops, Arthur’s spend filling your mouth up and leaking out from the corners of your lip. You can hardly stay still, writhing your needy cunt against your own heel, desperate for a reward you’re earning when you look him in the eye and swallow it all down. Pride blooms across Arthur’s features, saturated with a love that warms you from the inside out. His thumb caresses your face softly, wiping the tear tracks as you finally release his cock from your mouth and he guides you to your feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then nose, then lips.

“My good girl…” He coos, barely above a whisper as you breathe each other in, both as breathless as the other. Your throat aches, your jaw burning, but you’d do it a thousand times over to experience what you just did all over again. 

“Now…” He splits the sentence with another kiss, catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Get on inside, sweetheart, I think you’ve earned yourself a reward.”

[monbons]

Stitches and Sentences Roundup 2024

Thanks for the tags on your writing round ups @run-for-chamo-miles, @drowninginships, and @emeryhall! I just got back from a weeklong trip and instead of doing laundry, I'm joining in on the roundup fun.

FIC I moved from lurker to active fandom participant this year with a bang. I posted my first fic ever for EGF and have basically been writing or posting non-stop since then. I wrote/co-wrote 5 fics this year and clocked in at 101, 725 words.

Kill Em With Kindness - rated T, 6.5k, Watford-Era, getting together fic

When no one seems to care that Baz is sad, Simon steps in to help. The only reasonable explanation for all Simon's kindness is that he's trying to kill Baz, right? (My most popular fic as measured by kudos.)

Knock Your Socks Off - rated T, 4k, Watford-Era, 7th year fic

Baz steals Simon's socks. Simon blames the sock monster. Chaos ensues.

The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch - rated M, 42k, Addie LaRue AU, a truly epic romance

Told in two alternating timelines that span from 1700s Hampshire all the way to early 2000's Washington, DC, this fic follows Baz as he spends centuries searching for the love of all his lives. (This was the fic that convinced me I could write long and holds a very special place in my heart. Is it angsty? Yes. Is it some of the most beautiful prose I've ever written? Also yes.)

The Boy Next Door - rated M, 47k, and they were neighbors AU, a coming of age romance

When Simon moves in with his gran, he decides to befriend the mysterious boy next door. He changes both their lives in the process. (My most popular fic by literally every other measure.)

The Reason for The Season - rated T, 1.6k, text fic, co-written with @thewholelemon

Dev and Niall make a list. Holiday hijinks abound. (A bday gift for @mooncello)

ART I do not currently have a great way to track my dolls and searched my Instagram to do the math, only to realize I hadn't posted every doll I made either! (If anyone has a good art tracking system, I'm open to ideas.) If my count is correct, I clocked in at a grand total of 35 dolls this year, including:

10 Simons

15 Bazzes

2 Pennys

2 Nialls

2 Devs

1 Mage

1 Fiona

1 Agatha

1 Shep

The picture below shows my earliest dolls, where I was still experimenting with style and form. As you can see, many of them are quite flat. (Fun fact: All of these dolls--including their clothing--were made before I owned a sewing machine.)

Going 3D was actually an accident, but we have the Watford Baz and Simon below to thank for it! After committing to 3D dolls, I kept evolving my pattern---improving joints, proportions, and adding details like ears!---until we reached my most current iterations.

Now every doll has their own special pattern that takes into account their canon proportions, where available. Notice Baz is tall and slender where Simon is extra fluffy!

I did not include any of the dolls I created for COC 2024 since I assume everyone has seen them already, but I linked the master post in case you missed a day.

Finally, in addition to dolls, I also created 2 plushies (a merwolf and a bunbaz) plus 12 finger puppets this year.

It's hard to quantify dolls like fics, especially since almost every doll before COC did not have a dedicated tumblr post. However, here are some fun art stats:

Most Popular Art Post: The Watford Map

Most Popular Doll: FIONA!

Second Most Popular Doll: Felt Smut (Look @emeryhall! Dragonboy Simon is indeed the sexiest given that this is my duplicate of your doll!)

I also had three art collaborations this year:

Baz and The Prophecy - Doll and Tapestry, a COTTA collaboration with @iamamythologicalcreature

Ballet Baz and Disco Simon - a CORB collaboration with @melodysmash (Read the fic she wrote--Body Language. It is as adorable as these dolls!)

Watford Advent Map - a tapestry made for COC 2024 with help from @rimeswithpurple

While it has definitely been a fabulously productive year, I think my greatest achievement has been all the new friendships I've fostered because of fandom. Y'all bring me so much joy, and I am so happy I found this little corner of the internet.

I am currently drained of all creative energy (I can't imagine why!), so you may not hear from me for a while. However, I promise I am still around---likely catching up on all the fic and art I've missed while being a literal word and doll factory. With all that said, if you have an idea and wanna collab in the new year, I'm all ears and tons of fun!

Hellos and high-fives for the last time in 2024! @alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy

@best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer

@cutestkilla, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @harrie-leithillustration, @hushed-chorus

@ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli, @larkral, @letraspal

@martsonmars, @messofthejess, @mooncello, @noblecorgi, @orange-peony

@raenestee, @rbkzz, @roomwithanopenfire, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee

@stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon

@valeffelees, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold

[firstprincehornyramblings]

WOW I've been slacking on these lil updates, huh? Well, I'm almost done with the wip I'm focusing on. It might even be done next weekend? So, time to make sure you guys are still vibing with it? So, back into the age gap professor Henry fic I was affectionately calling 'what if Henry was Alex's bisexual awakening, but they weren't together?' All dat below the cut.

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

“Oh,” Henry inhaled deeply, it was the tone of voice and the fucking way Alex looked at him. As if he’d broken the poor boy’s heart. It made Henry’s ache, guilt seeming to climb his limbs like a physical horror. He sat up a bit straighter, fixing his pants, trying to avert eye contact. “Well, if you’d prefer, I can request another assistant for the remaining two months.”  “I don’t want you to do that either,” Alex sat back on his heels, his own face contorting with guilt.  As if he had anything to feel bad about. It was Henry who should be ashamed, not Alex. Why was this beautiful man feeling anything even close to the contrition that settled itself into Henry’s bones. If Alex felt a negative emotion, it should be anger, he should hate Henry, for being so weak, for giving in so easily, or for stringing him along. Was it possible he knew how hard Henry was fighting? Could he understand the gnawing need to feel even the brush of fingertips? Did he know how Henry wrestled with his own desire and logic? How he found it hard to sleep with the shame of allowing himself to be so taken with a man so much younger?  “I want to see you,” Alex continued. “Part of why it’s sad is because soon you won’t need an assistant anymore. And I’ll go from seeing you every day to not seeing you at all. I think that would be worse, I’m going to miss you so badly. I already miss you on weekends, seeing you makes my day better, He- Professor Fox. Even when we fight and I annoy you, shit, I’m just flirting with you. I love seeing you crack a smile when you call me ‘deplorable’ or some other stupid word.” He sighed then, straightening his posture, as if to look serious, “I know I’m young, and you probably do want someone your own age, but I think I could make you happy. We could have fun together, and that’s the only thing that matters, right? I know, at least, that nobody would try harder to make you hap-” “Alex,” Henry interrupted, his voice trembling. But he couldn’t take anymore, not a single word. He couldn’t listen to everything he’d ever wanted to hear from every other man he’d been with, “It’s late, they’ll lock the doors soon. You should head back to your dorm, or your boyfriend, or whatever you do on Friday nights. As long as you want to keep working with me, I’ll see you Monday afternoon.” 

----

in my defense, i didn't say the cut was for smut reasons. don't be mad at me. (i promise the fucking nasty is COMING <- not as fast as alex will tho. ba dum tss)

ANYWAY, TAG TIME. adding a few new people, but also if any of you want to be taken off my tag list, lemme know, i always feel like im bothering people lol

@taste-thewaste @henrysfox @mikibwrites @judasofsuburbia

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @anti-homophobia-cheese

@redlipstickandglitter @eusuntgratie @potato-jem @gayhoediaz

@thesleepyskipper @onthewaytosomewhere @thighzp @lfg1986-2

@bitbybitwrites @midnight-soulless-system @tailsbeth-writes @percy-jackson-is-sexy-

+ literally anyone else; I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[cho-aaacho]

(HC's) Bocchan Boyfriend! Gojo Satoru

Masterlist

Tags : Soft Gojo, Melancholy Gojo, Violinist Gojo, Secret Love, Forbidden Love, Backstreet, Boss/Employees relationship, Showering together, Kissing, Gojo is madly in love with you.

A/N : Bocchan means "Young Master."

You two have known each other since you were little. Because your dad is a head butler at the Gojo Clan. You've been living in Gojo mansion since you were three.

Although he was raised as a wealthy, old-money, and spoiled cute little boy, but he treated you better than he did to anyone else.

Perhaps because you are the only person of the same age in the mansion as him, or he just feels lonely?

He enjoys playing the violin, and he has a practice room. When you catch him playing the violin, you may see a different expression on his face. Serious, melancholy, with delightful finger motions.

He'll sometimes let you judge his performance, identify a few flaws in him, and then invite you to his music room. You'll be sitting on his favorite couch, listening to his violin performances.

His favorite instrument is Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.

He loves afternoon tea, and you are the only person he trusts to take care of everything: tea leaves, sweet macarons, and cake. Don't worry; he has you!

Reading books by the window is also his favorite thing. His bedroom is on the second floor, so when you're in the garden, you can see him there, bathing in the rays of sunshine. Caresses his sweet silver hair.

He reads two books a day and spends like 4 hours reading them.

He wears a ring matching his two best friends, Suguru and Shoko. He also introduced them to you, saying they were the best things in his life.

When test week arrives, you'll often find him sleeping in an unexpected location, such as a kitchen table, living room, or fountain, because he enjoys studying and doesn't want to miss out on his school scores.

And you will approach him, covering his body with a blanket, you don't have the heart to wake him up.

"Thank you for always supporting me. I don't know what would happen to me if you didn't lend me your hand."

"You've been nice to me since we were kids. We aren't family at all, but you and your father are better than the Gojo clan itself."

"I always love your tea, and I don't want anyone else to replace you! Promise me you won't stop making tea for me."

"I've just realized the reason I'm still living in this mansion is because of you and your father. I hate this family and its hierarchy system. They always force me to do something."

Your relationship with him is more intense when he realizes that he's in love with you. Not only does he enjoy your tea, cake, and the way you treat him every day, but he loves you because you make him feel free; you make him view things in a new light. 

It's because of you.

"During all those times I was acting as just your friend, in reality, I had wanted to get closer to you."

He loves to hug you while you make tea, and he would say, "Keep holding me tight."

Secretly loves to kiss you. Kissing you while you are asleep, watering the flower, cooking or anything else.

Sometimes when the head of the Gojo clan is not around, you'll sleep with him and cuddle.

...or maybe showering together.

When the head of the Gojo clan learned of your relationship with his heir, he separated you from him and transferred you to another Gojo mansion in a different prefecture. 

Although you didn't want to leave Gojo Satoru behind, you accepted it. Because you are just you, after all. You will never be his.

He didn't know about that; initially, he thought that you had left him because you were bored with him or because you were already married to someone else.

He forces himself not to believe it, filling his head with the thought that you were studying abroad. But the head of the Gojo clan makes it worse by telling him a lie about the reason why you left.

"They already have a good life, Satoru. After all, they don't come from a royal family like ours. Just forget about them."

It hurts him, to be honest.

When he learns the truth, he goes insane and punches everyone and everything in the mansion. He threatens his father and the rest of the Gojo clan.

"Do you think I'm a rag doll that you can play with? I have a right to choose someone in my life, not you. You are not me, and I'm not you!"

"Let us exchange these rings, forget about everything, and run away. I'll throw my Gojo name."

He couldn't stop himself from hugging you when he finally found you. He pouring his sadness and longing into your presence. Despite his sadness, he tried his best to act strong.

But when you say, "Welcome home, Bocchan," he cries aloud.

Hey... I just want to say thank you for following this "boyfriend" series! I might be adding more characters in the future.

[millylotus]

Duke's cousin Jay

His full name is Jayden Jackson, he's Doug's older sister Patricia & her husband Heaven's son.

Jay's always been a competent guy, physically inclined like his maternal grandpa and just as smart as the rest of his family. But the Thomas have never been particularly well off, so Jay never really got the chance to properly expand on alot of his talents and stuck to what would get him far quick enough & cheap enough.

One of those things was the Army.

After the loss of his parents in the bombing of Bludhaven he had nowhere to go. He wasn't going to bother his Uncle & Aunt, who where raising his baby cousin and caring for Granny Luci. He needed somewhere quick and cheap. He had nowhere else to go.

Nowhere to go but the Army.

At first they where going to use him like every other boy who'd lost people to attacks like the one on Bludhaven. Trauma riddled and gunning for revenge on anyone they where directed at, but Jay just didn't want to be a bother, and being useless was being a bother.

They saw just how good Jay was and in no way where they gonna lose such a useful asset. He learned quick & adapted to everything they put him through. And all those things they put him through where important, so important that Jay was put on teams that required code names and red tape for everything.

When Doug & Elaine went missing & Duke was put in the system Jay wasn't even aware until two years later, and even then he couldn't leave because he was still "fighting the good fight".

Eventually he gets a break, a couple months and with a payout on the bounds he'd stay quite and no one would get hurt. He ran to Gotham, got an apartment and found Duke living with the Waynes.

For a second he thought maybe Duke wouldn't want to live with him, the extravagance, the comfort, it was all Jay had ever dreamed of for his family. But his little cousin jumped right into his arms and suddenly Jay has split custody with Bruce Wayne of all people.

He adjusts to civilian life about as well as he adjusts to that of a soldier, but not quite. Just enough that it doesn't register to him that Duke met him in the middle somewhere between soldier and everyday life.

He'll be back with the special ops eventually, but he has a couple months left with all the family he's got. And by god is Jayden gonna milk every second of that.

---

I generally think of Jay as an easy going if not a paranoid and really awkward guy

I've decided he has anxiety that he just isn't acknowledging right now

He's between Dick & Jason in age leaning more towards Jason

But ya know that's just how it is sometimes

He's not a very high emotions type of guy, most of the people in his family aren't

The most you'll drag out of him is an overprotective streak when it comes to Duke

He fidgets with his dog tags often

He knows how to kill a man in at least 50 different ways

He was the rookie for a solid 6 years before ending up as basically the middle child of his team

He's not sure how he feels about the Waynes but he's willing to take as much child support from them instead of indebting Duke to the army by using their money to care for him

When he finds out Duke is a meta-human he takes that shit to the grave, no-one is using his cousin

Same thing when he finds out Duke is a vigilante

He routinely cries to 16 Carriages by Beyonce

His favorite artists are Beyonce, Adele, & India Arie

He frequently goes to art exhibits and has tried his fair share at painting but is to embarrassed to really share it with anyone

Chronic resting bitch face he gets from his dad

The army aged him and people sometimes think he's Duke's dad

Knows things he shouldn't

Not tired all the time, but definitely more mellow compared to when Duke last saw him years ago, he smiled bigger back then

He's dated one person seriously in his life and that was a girl in high school

A fling there, a tent mate over here, maybe even on old friend who might come back, he doesn't really know

Once tried to eat his dad's belt as a kid

Got Duke hooked on sweets as a kid, much to Elaine's chagrin and now they're both sweettooths together

His favorite subject was art history

He reads plays a lot because they where just in abundance everywhere he went for some reason, and also because he likes dialogue a little more than heavy prose

Only has his GED, never really intended to go to college, now the army gets in the way of that

Figured out the We Are Robin thing quick, the Signal stuff not so much

Lets the WAR kids crash at his place even when he's dispatched

Doesn't like loud noises or the sound of guns

This ruined a lot of his fav trap songs for him

His fave color is yellow

He's jealous of Duke relationship with the Waynes and Robins sometimes, especially Jason, but by virtue of Duke just being a loving guy those feelings never really stick for long

One time he was babysitting Duke and the little man got him hooked on TMNT

He still has his Mikey mask, and Duke still has his Raph one

He's kind of just a guy sometimes

He's my one of my favs now

Jay Jack is just that guy, no excuses

[i-3at-s0ap]

Hey! Welcome to my blog!

[plain text: Hey! Welcome to my blog!]

FUCK TERFS 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 THIS BLOG IS RUN BY A TRANSMASC!!!!! I LOVE TRANS PEOPLE (because a couple of TERFs are following me for some reason 🤢)

Info below the cut :3

He/they 🏳️‍⚧️

Bisexual, possibly demiromantic

I'm not going to share my real name here but people call me Rat so that's my name now lmao. you can also call me Soap.

Go check out my doll based side blog @custom-dolly ! (Even if you don't like dolls very much I also post doll houses which are more about the craft than the dolls lmao.)

I mostly post fanart, and I try my best to make all of them have an image ID, please tell me if I've forgotten :)

Drawing requests are OPEN right now, and I will...

Do ✅

- fanart for fandoms I'm in

- OCs (I'll need a reference pic)

- ships for fandoms I'm in

Not do ❌

- furries (I love y'all, the thing is I'm shit at drawing animals and furries sorry. I'm working on it lol)

- severe body horror

- NSFW (sex, kinks, you get the idea)

- Harry potter shit (fuck JKR)

- incest/large age gap/step sibling ships/pedophilia

I reserve the right to decide whether or not I draw something.

This blog has like no tagging system but here are the few I do have

#I-eat-art -> my art

#look at my suicide posting boy -> where I talk about my mental health, usually not super sensitively, feel free to block this tag if that kinda stuff upsets you /gen

#Rat in situations -> small drawings I make about my life, mostly goofy stuff

#fish woman -> the tag I use for my OC named Morwenna (she is indeed a fish woman)

If there are any trigger/content warning worthy things in my art/posts I will tag them as such, if you feel like there is a warning missing please tell me!

Avatar of the Hunt 🐺

Fandoms:

Dungeons and daddies 🎲

Arcane 💣🌈

Hermitcraft ⛏️📺

The Magnus archives 📼 👁️

Dungeon Meshi 😋🍲

(and kinda Camp Here and There but not really pls don't follow me if you are expecting CHTH stuff lol)

DNI:

Transandrophobes

Swifties

Racists

Fatphobes

anti-Semites

Homophobes

Transphobes

Ableists

TERFs

Zionists

Transids

Detrans/misgendering kink blogs (if you've detransitioned but you're not transphobic I love you btw)

Pedophiles

People who think "narcissistic abuse" is real

Bigots

Pro eating disorder/thinspo blogs

You get the idea

[waitmyturtles]

Wandee Goodday: I'm caught up and I love this show and here are my thoughts AND! (aka, In Which I Partly Ruminate On Golf Tanwarin's Thematic Overlaps Between Wandee Goodday and The Eclipse)

(Thanks to the homegirls @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm for catching me up on @bengiyo's wonderful meta round-up here!)

Through @bengiyo's round-up linked above, I *think* I'm caught up on what was going around the Wandee Goodday fandom last week; I myself, because of LIFE. EVENTS. fell behind two episodes, and only caught up with this generally fabulous show last night, and I wanna bust a couple words on it.

I surprised myself a couple weeks ago by having a touch of Wandee brainrot at week TWO, which is generally absurd, but I'm still stuck on the theme of medical observation and how that theme has permeated this show so far. More on this in a second.

Out of transparency, I also want to note that I'm coming off a close rewatch of Golf Tanwarin's The Eclipse for my Old GMMTV Challenge project, and not just because of LIFE. EVENTS., but also because of some deep thoughtfulness that has surprised and delayed me in my review of The Eclipse, I can't help but recognize that there's some thematic overlap between The Eclipse and Wandee that Golf's getting into -- a coincidence that I'm absolutely loving and screaming internally over.

(As an aside, I've been working forever on my Eclipse piece because I'm struggling with the meaning of having a huge debut branded ship in FirstKhao helming that show, and what that meant for GMMTV in 2022 and its BL future. I'm not feeling that same branded ship pressure here in Wandee, especially as Inn Sarin and Great Sapol were both separately established actors who joined GMMTV for this project, and the future of this ship is unknown at the moment. That's a part of the reason why I love Wandee -- I don't feel fandom pressure about the ship, per se, at this moment, but I might be missing hype on the tag.)

While the stories between The Eclipse and Wandee are clearly different -- the ways in which Golf offers commentary about internal and external homophobia, ESPECIALLY vis à vis macro-level interactions of micro-level humans in systems like boarding schools and hospitals/medical systems, is deeply thrilling for me. I admire Golf as a former politician, Thailand's first transgender member of parliament who was unceremoniously kicked out for economic concerns (and likely their affiliation with the Future Forward/Move Forward parties). As someone who's been around the way with smart politicians, I'm not surprised that this is a space in which Golf lives -- the space in which they explore how homophobia is expressed at macrosystemic and micro-emotional levels.

In The Eclipse, Golf explores:

social pressures to conform to hetero-social standards

the internal destruction that those pressures cause to individuals

how that internal destruction impacts the ways in which young high-school men interact with each other, and develop social and/or romantic bonds, and

how that internal destruction also impacts general social group dynamics, and how individuals police themselves and each other into conforming to the hetero-social standards dictated by the environment around them.

There are many, many issues with The Eclipse, but generally speaking, Golf weaves between the internal and external, the micro and the macro, in that show, cyclically, to depict very messed-up young men fumbling through their experiences of social conformity and love.

As I've been writing my Eclipse piece for my OGMMTVC, I have referred often to @bengiyo's FABULOUS post from the Our Skyy 2 x The Eclipse days, about how some of The Eclipse fandom was concerned for the stability of AkkAyan vis à vis their romance in OS2. As Ben writes, these fictional boys were messed TF up. It was natural, in OS2, to witness their continued fumbles as they still confirmed their love for each other. The conflation for "real" affection between First and Khao aside, this demand for clean-cut romance dominated the fandom discourse at the time of OS2, and it wasn't aligned with what I think Golf's messaging about the emotional states of the boys actually were.

We're certainly NOT THERE (YET) in Wandee Goodday by way of romance. We're squarely in the midst of Wandee's, Yak's, and Ter's very clear emotional and competitive fumbles. We're only at episode 4, and what we've gotten is just a tremendous amount of information about the internal and external struggles these very messed-up dudes have (and to confirm here, we know Ter is Satan/Dr. 666 Devil, we are literally told that, and I'm so thrilled for Podd to finally get the role he deserves, amirite @lurkingshan).

We are seeing similar social conformity pressures from The Eclipse to Wandee by way of the hospital setting -- long a globally misogynistic and highly pressurized environment that humans have played destructively in. Ter being an absolute ROACH with Dee's feelings is so apropos. (Oh, and Ter clearly not being committed to Kwan? That girl's gonna go AWF, I swear.)

We're seeing the same pressure by way of boxer Yak going public with his bisexuality, and taking an ENORRRRRMOUS risk in faking a relationship with Wandee, in front of titchy hospital staff who will likely narc Yak out to the media.

[I think this is a slip of the show, by the way. I don't think Yak is dumb enough to not recognize this risk despite his empathy to Dee, and I really wish the show would spend more time on the risks that Yak takes in showing public affection to Dee at the hospital. I think the show can actually take some time to explore the risk that Yak is taking, because it would simply illuminate the continued themes of homophobia and its ever-presence in the sports AND medical settings that Golf is exploring. (And separately, the meaning of having Yei and Cher helm the boxing gym means so much to me -- literally as a sports fan!)]

@bengiyo's meta round-up also nicely covers the meta out there about Dee and his very conflicted and hypocritical behavior. It's no duh that Dee only has one friend. The guy is a fucking ant. A very cute and sympathetic ant! But he's cute (and hawt), sympathetic, an ant, AND a jerk, someone who is driven to "win," both against Ter and Yak. Dee might be an ant BECAUSE of the impact of what was likely an intense and complicated medical education, as many a former medical resident around the world may relate to! That's a macro-level systemic reference that I wouldn't be surprised Golf would be making intentionally.

Both Wandee and Yak could and should be more accountable to themselves and to each other vis à vis their feelings and the very complicated pressures they both operate under.

They haven't gotten there in their intimacy yet because -- like Akk, Ayan, Kan, and Thua, they're fucking messed-up dudes dealing with homophobia at internal and external emotional levels due to the pressures of their homophobic macrosystemic environments in which they operate!

The social conformity pressures of the worlds in which Dee and Yak live are messing them up so fucking much that they're both acting like bumbling dillholes.

Is it DELIGHTFUL TO WATCH? OMG, YES! I'm obsessed! I LOVE THEM, YER HONOR.

I LOVE WATCHING COMPLICATED HUMAN BEINGS BE COMPLICATED. THIS SHIT IS COMPLICATED!!!!!

Fucking Dee stringing Yak along? YAK GOING ALONG WITH IT? Kickass Taem sees the necklace around Dee's clavicle and KNOWS what Yak's heart is actually doing/saying. Yak may even be "making up" this whole Situation with Taem to jealously win Dee over, maybe?, but we also know Yak actually is attracted to Taem, and so, fuck, THAT'S MESSY AND COMPLICATED, and also, oh so real! Fuck Dee, man! We've ALL BEEN STRUNG ALONG, hello song break, Dee, get it together, you jackass m'fer:

In other words, ha! People act like jerks when their micro- and macro-levels, their internals and externals, are out of sync and whack, and they don't have the emotional toolboxes to deal with it. There is so much mess-mess-MESSY-mess-mess, escalandos, poopy-woopy-shit all over the place in this show, and at least for right now, it's just delightful to watch it happen and unwind (as opposed to The Eclipse, when Akk's repeated stalking of Ayan just got a little tired after episodes 4 and 5, it was like, dude, Akk, if you're saying you don't like him, just stay the fuck away, on GOD. ANYWAY).

Who has the emotional tools to deal with this complicated-ness? Dr. Kao, Drakey-poo, Drizzy!

Dr. Kao, our OBSERVATIONAL asexual BFFFFFFFF, is shown, literally, helping dyads through their issues. He's addressing binaries on binaries -- a couple coming at sex from two different perspectives, and creating compromise between them.

I love, love, love this inclusion of this observational commentary. Kao is depicted at creating communication and compromise against a topic (sex) that he himself has a complicated relationship with. He is shown, professionally, keeping his shit out of the needs of his patients in order to help them with their medical goals.

Kao is practicing, in essence, a transcendence of sorts -- transcending his micro-personal issues with sex in his practice to help his patients achieve at least happiness, if not at least compromise and satisfaction, in their lives.

I appreciated seeing that the client couple in the show wasn't necessarily trying to "win" against each other. They just had different issues about sex that they were working on -- TOGETHER.

The competitive triad of Dee, Yak, and Ter is certainly not there yet. 666 Devil Ter will likely shake up any delicate balance that Dee and Yak MIGHT achieve. But Dee and Yak, a hopeful binary dyad that we are cheering for, are caught in all of their personal and professional competitions themselves, and are nowhere near transcendence at this moment.

The mess, right now, is making sense, within the script. Things can certainly go awry via the script, as my elder friend @bengiyo has warned me regarding Thai BLs these days. But as of right now, I'm finding this mess delightful, because it's VERY real, to me, against a standard of people acting like bumbling, intentional, and unintentional assholes, and living in worlds of emotional complications that are very difficult, in real life, to unwind from by way of macro-social pressures -- except with time, grace, patience, and eventual maturity.

[fated2bydesign]

Hi, I saw the prompt thing. Interview with an Attendant/Your DCA's talking to someone about something that happened in in there past that makes them who they are today. Feel free to ignore this if it's too spoilery.

Nah, I got you! I’m just going to spoiler the content since his past has been scratching around in the back of my head.. Hmm... Tell you what, let's see if you or anyone else can guess who the reporter is talking to with this one, and I might post a part 2. By the way, I mean can anyone guess his Name Name? Not just what unit he is.

This is just over 1000 words, but honestly, I have about 4000+ words written because I went overboard, so hopefully, someone figures it out because that would be awesome! Though if not, I'll still post it in its entirety; it'll just be after I've posted the next chapter of Missing Gears.

Also, look at the tags. There is content that may not be for everyone, and mentions of harm to children are present. You have been warned.

He watched her closely as she coasted around the room, observing the various tools and trinkets that lay about the work tables of Parts and Service. "So you wanted to ask me something?" His voice pierced through the silence with a deep, mellow tone. His demeanor was like that of a confident feline, watching the human with amusement. 

"Yes, I wanted to interview you. I'm doing a piece on whether robots are able to change as people as a result of experience like humans. Do you mind?" She inquired with a smile in her tone, and he got the distinct feeling from her that she would not be taking no for an answer.

Leaning forward, he placed the bottom of his faceplate in his padded palms, his gloves forgone on the table next to him, as he propped his elbow to rest atop the thigh of his crossed legs. The custom seat creaked under his weight as he leaned forward. "Do I even have a choice? I clearly don't have rights, and Faz'co most definitely already approved this if you, as a civilian, were allowed down here to begin with. So just ask away, dear."

She turned and inclined her head at that. "I meant no offense by it. Just giving you the courtesy. I hope you understand." She then pulled out her recorder from her back pocket and placed it on the computer desk next to him with a click. Evidently, by the red flashing light, it was recording. She sat down in the human-sized computer chair and crossed her legs as she picked up the clipboard she had come in with. "Well, let's just jump in the deep end, shall we? What's the first time that you experienced something that scared you? As in, truly made you question yourself or wish for a way out or an escape from the thing that was scaring you." She asked, and he looked down with a tick tick tick of his internal mechanisms. 

His face contorted into something that resembled a pained expression, the light hum of his fans kicking on as his processor struggled. Then he looked up at her with a flat, empty stare. "I was in the Daycare alone, waiting for the others to return after a late-night system update. The first two kids of the day came in, and I greeted their parents as I had been told to do many times before. Their parents were silent and refused to look me in the eye. The boys were twins and had just turned 12; in their culture, they consider 12 to be the age of maturity. When a boy becomes a man and must prove himself to their God." His words felt cold and yet full of remorse.

"What happened?" She asked, urging him to continue, as she was clearly intrigued as to where this was going.

He exhaled a breath through his nose with a hiss as he deliberated on continuing. "I'm sure you saw the report about the incident where the old Plex had to be closed down? When the others returned, Sun greeted the little ones with a smile and offered to get them something to eat since it was so early in the morning. When he turned around, apparently, one of the boys had their hand in their pocket and started saying, Deus est. Sun jumped on him and screamed for me to pin the other boy. The boy under Sun had his hand close to a detonator, and I turned to see the other fumbling to try and find his. I noticed he seemed sluggish and disoriented, so I grabbed him calmly." He sucked in a breath. "When I grabbed him, I lifted his shirt and found he had an incision about 3 inches long along the top of his stomach with a few wires running out the side of the incision, pinned by staples." He looked away, unsure. "I honestly still wonder what could drive a person to do that to their own child."

"Ah, I did hear something about that. The Downgrade extremist members from the Middle East were inspired by ISIS, and when they crossed the border, they acted like they were refugees from the Pana incident. Honestly, it's quite sad that they think that they are saving the world from itself by killing Robots. Then again, it's not my place to judge." She remarked in absent thought. "What happened then?" She questioned. She looked up at him from her clipboard, and the pencil was twisting around in her hand. 

He looked at her and shook his head, shaking off a thought before continuing. "Sun held the boy, who was definitely more lucid and willing to hit that button, while I held the other boy in my lap, keeping him from getting ahold of his detonator. We sent a ping, and a guard hit the evacuation alarm and cleared the building. We had to hold them down for hours until a bomb squad came out and disconnected the detonators in a way that prevented them from going off with the buttons, then they came in with human-looking synths who escorted the boys outside." He was shaking at this point, and he reclined in his chair as he spoke softly. "That was the first time Sun hit me. He was pissed off that I wasn't able to tell something was off about them. He said it took him 1 minute to realize with his scanners that they were on a sedative, and with only 2 words, he knew that they were dangerous. I, however, missed all the signs. I should have been more observant and diligent. He said I failed to maintain the safety of the people in the Plex and allowed that to happen…" He looked down at his hands as he clasped them shut into fists. "He pulled out one of the loose bars from the play structure and beat me with it, screaming at me. Telling me that I messed up. How I messed up. How messy I was, and how I needed to get with the program because the Location Director's kid plays in the Daycare, and she won't be so kind to me, to just hit me…" His breathing was shaky as he looked up again. "I still remember him breaking down into pathetic sobs, apologizing for hitting me, and telling me about how she just got through doing a round of controlled shocks on them in the cylinder. Apparently, her son turned up with a tiny bruise, and she requested them down for maintenance so she could punish them herself. 17 times. That's how many shocks she gave Sun alone. I got lucky and was assigned to look after a small party that was going on in Roxy's Raceway, so I was given forgiveness for not even being there."

"Gosh, that sounds awful. Is that why your Sun had issues with you?" She questioned curiously. 

"Unfortunately, that was only where it started. His mental state had slowly started to deteriorate after that day."

[redactedshapes]

Personal Art Blog + Sharing Policy

I've updated my self-hosted blog with all of my art (there're very few missing posts that I will be uploading in the coming months)

Since it's a static site, I've yet to look into implementing a search function that will not be mercilessly spammed by bots.

In the meantime, I'm using a Tag system. You can find them all here:

https://www.valentinapaz.com/blog/tags/

I've made some specific tags for certain niche categories, for example:

The system is not as robust as Tumblr's archive.

But it is a central, personal archive that I have zero intention on deleting, changing urls or placing behind a login wall.

Therefore, no link rot and no account needed to access it. Just, a bit clunkier to browse. AND! NO NOISE! NO NOTIFICATION, NO STATISTICS, NO ENGAGEMENT TRAPS FUCK THAT NOISE.

And most importantly:

From now on, please feel free to share my artwork to Discord or with your friend, just remember to include a link to my website.

Yes, that goes for Remedy's official servers.

(I'm in the main server myself but I have very little energy to post or interact there >_>;)

Either link the blog post with the specific art or share the art file as long as my watermarked url is visible + a link to my homepage (www.valentinapaz.com)

Please DO NOT REUPLOAD my art files to social media, like twitter, reddit, instagram, pinterest, etc. For public or social media sites, I'll be grateful if you just share a link instead.

If you're going to link to my art elsewhere, please make sure it's my website and not one of my social media profiles. We have all seen the volatility of these sites these last few years, and how fucked we are regarding discoverability.

There's very little a regular person in the internet can do help artists when social media sites fuck up, but contributing to my site's SEO and discoverability by pointing to it instead of to a myriad of profiles, is a small gesture but a super helpful gesture in the long run. My commission info is always one click away, and boy does that business takes a hit with each migration. I don't like to advertise often, so this a less annoying way to have that info easily accessible.

Thank you ❤️

[void-botanist]

WIP Intro Tag: Nicea

I am finally posting my intro for the WIP intro tag @anoelleart started over here! Since I first introduced Nicea over a year ago, it actually makes sense to do it for WIP intro tag.

Nicea takes its name from the Nicea, a starship from Antarac star system. To date, she's only gone on shipping trips within the neighboring systems that make up Argoh locality. But when she intercepts a message from her previous captain, Cady, who supposedly died warp racing ten years ago, the Nicea's crew prepares to take her across the galaxy to bring him home. And she's a sturdy vessel, but two hundred light years is a long way. Still, her crew has to make it—failure is not an option.

Genre: space opera

Setting: locality space, a galaxy full of people, some of whom are magical, and some of whom have enabled the current age of interstellar travel.

Core cast:

Declan Ruse [40, he/him, human]: Cady's husband & co-founder of Nicea Shipping. Currently the "shadow captain" of the Nicea, because of course he's the boss, but he hates talking to customers. He's the reason failure is not an option, because he can't imagine spending any more time apart from Cady.

Isabel Hendriss [36, she/her, human]: Rodney's sister & Spinder's best friend. Under Cady she was the load specialist of the Nicea, but she now serves as the registered captain, with her duties mostly being talking to people. She's been planning to leave the Nicea to start her own music career for a while.

Rodney Hendriss [33, he/him, human]: Isabel's brother & Declan's right-hand man. He was an afterthought on Cady's crew (read: cabin boy) but now he's the navigator, computer systems guy, and all around Knower and Organizer of Things. What he wants most is to be needed, especially by Declan.

Tristan Scherie [47, she/her, human]: Cady's friend & Bo's best friend. She's always been the pilot of the Nicea, even though Cady was also a pilot. She feels guilty for going on this trip, because it's dangerous and she runs the risk of missing her own wedding, but she needs to absolve herself of the guilt of indirectly causing Cady and Bo's "death".

Spinder Callawel [35, he/him, human]: Cady's uncle & Isabel's best friend. Years ago, he made a pact with Cady to become his ship engineer one day when Cady had a ship, and that's what he is still. But now he's bringing the ship back to Cady while he grapples with fears of death and also of telling Isabel he's in love with her.

Cady Thilta [40, he/him, human]: Declan's husband & Spinder's nephew. He was once the Nicea's captain because of his determination to become a space business owner, and now he's stranded because of his love of adrenaline. He sent the Nicea a message almost ten years ago and is still holding out hope it arrived.

Bo Eveldan [60, they/he, ferasca (dragon person)]: Tristan's best friend. They were never a member of the Nicea's crew, but they are a warp witch, and more than happy to take their favorite pilots warp racing. In retrospect, that might have been a bad idea, but at least he's here with Cady.

Progress: first draft, currently 31k words

Tags: wip: nicea, set: locality space, any of the characters' first names prefixed with "c: " (c: Declan, etc.)

I've only posted it in snippets so far, but you can also find a few scenelets of things that happened before the events of Nicea in my scenelets wrapped tag.

I'll leave an open tag for anyone who wants to do a WIP intro!!

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @kk7-rbs @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

[voxofthevoid]

Chiming in to say i like when people just use one general tag!!! When i want to read a ship i hate having to search thru 2-3 different tags i always end up missing stuff. If it matters that much just stick to fics thats specify top!character and bottom!character. Not to mention how useless it is when the characters verse.

Also, westerners (specifically in this case americans) have been using smushed ship names forever. I remember telling my millenial current sister in law about a ship when i was younger and she was just like, hold on did you brangelina (brad pitt/angelina jolie) them? LOL

I appreciate the chiming in!! And boy, do I have thoughts on this 📢

I understand and appreciate the utility of both top/bottom/verse tags as well as top-name-first ship tags—but only as optional systems. Now, this is already the case on Ao3. Every ship name permutation gets linked to the one alphabetical-order ship tag, and additional tags are by default optional. What you have are people trying to make top/bottom/verse tags mandatory, often by being obnoxiously loud about it, but with the ToS itself backing you up, it's relatively easy to tell them that you won't, in fact, be implementing their preferential system on your fics.

But top-name-first ship tags are a different matter, in that they split the ship entirely into two permutations (or more, when verse couples get tagged with double-ended versions like goyuugo or sasunarusasu), regardless of whether anyone's getting penetrated. Like you've said, it makes searching itself a pain (unless the site allows "OR" operators), and on top of that, what are the criteria for tagging fics/art without penetrative sex—in a manner that doesn't come with unfortunate implications, such as sex position doubling as a personality trait (regardless of canon personality, that is) or one position being considered the default? The latter is what I mostly see, but I've run into the former plenty too. You do get people tagging both ship names instead for non-sexual art, but the practice varies widely, and non-penetrative sex still tends to go into just one tag, unless verse tags are being used.

That's not really a system I'm interested as a fandom-wide usage. It clearly works for plenty of people, good for 'em, but my response to anyone trying to impose it on me is—well, you've seen what it is 😂

Plus, I think it's good for people with strict top/bottom preferences—and I am one, both IRL and in terms of fiction, so I'm not looking down on anyone for their sex tastes here—to do their own curation, be it via sticking solely to top/bottom tags like you said or using the handy CTRL+F function on untagged fics. Is it 10% more effort? Yes. That's the point. Ao3 tags are wonderful, but some people seem to be using them as a substitute for any effort or curation on their own part, and I firmly believe that makes for a less pleasant fandom space that's rampant with entitlement and worse.

Also, yes, agreed on the smushed names being pretty prevalent and longstanding in English—in and outside of the US, I'd say. My country is pretty damn far from the US, but we make portmanteau English terms like crazy and have for years.