#honestly i could gush about echoes characters all day

[oigimi]

. performances .

. arthur x reader . entry for day 2 of 12 days of arthur .

“Is he here yet?” I murmured to myself, trying to get a good look of the crowd from backstage. I had to do my best to not be seen, but god I wished I could get a good look at everyone present. It was closing night of our show. Six days of mayhem, six days of putting myself out there for everyone to see, six days of makeup that could make my skin break out like I’d never known before, and six days of hoping he’d show up. Any show came with aggressive advertising, and practically begging my friends to come see it, usually with some success. I’d seen my friends Theo and his brother Vincent, Isaac, Sebastian (who came multiple times), Leo, Napo, and everyone else in my circle. It was validating, having people come up to me and give me a big hug, couples with choruses of “You were amazing!” and “You were my favorite character!”

But none of it really mattered if he wasn’t there.

Arthur was the one I really wanted to see in the crowd. He was someone I’d only known for a few years, but I’d developed the biggest crush on him. His accent, his kindness, his talent, and his general sharpness encapsulated me. He was the kind of guy that someone can only dream of. Like a character in a story. He wrote a lot of those, too. His stories were so vivid, with imagery that was brewed in my mind like a stew with the finest ingredients. The characters, the settings, the emotions they felt drew me in so deeply I’d lose myself in them and blur the lines in my psyche to the point where I’d forget where I was at the end. And the most amazing part: He did all this while working his way into med school.

Poor guy had been so busy the last few weeks, but he said over the course of two weeks that he’d try his best to make it. With a confident smile and a twinkle in his eye, his promises eased my heart. But as each day came and went, as I came out for every curtain call, I hadn’t seen him. His sapphire eyes, the color and shine unlike those of anyone else in the world, were nowhere to be found. His smile was not in the sea of people rewarding our efforts with a standing ovation. “Don’t worry, he’ll be there next time,” I’d keep telling myself. But every time I didn’t see him was another crack in my lovestruck hopes that he’d be there. That hurt me more than anything, as I remembered his confident words of assurance.

As I retreated from my viewpoint, I came face to face with Will, who was performing in the show with me. He had a forlorn expression, making my heart pound a little harder. What was wrong? Was a light not working? Did someone get sick?

“We have sold all the tickets,” he murmured to me, and nothing more.

Will had known of my infatuation for months now, and he knew how excited I was about the idea of Arthur bearing witness to the show we had worked so hard to put on. He’d heard every time I gushed about him, every story I’d told about him and myself, every scenario in my mind where he would react to the show in different ways. And that’s why he had such a heavy expression, that only deepened as he witnessed the tears pooling up in my eyes.

“We are? But I don’t see him!” I whispered, so as to not echo my voice into the crowd. “He’s not here! Will!” I hugged myself and looked down, trying not to mess up my makeup I’d worked so hard on. A weep escaped me, I just couldn't help it. It felt stupid, especially because my other friends already came. It felt like I was being ungrateful, but through my rationale was the flood of emotions that I’d been hiding from Arthur the whole time. If he didn’t come to the show, it was like he didn’t return my feelings. It stopped being about the show a long time ago. I knew he was probably busy, but he’d promised. He promised me a sliver of his time. Honestly if he’d just said outright that he likely wasn’t going to be able to come, I’d probably have been spared a lot of heartache.

But the reality was that seats were filled, and Arthur wasn’t one of the people filling. The show must go on.

My presence in the wings wasn’t my presence backstage. As I stood waiting for my entrance, I did everything I could to suppress my feelings. I gulped, I sighed, I shook it all out, but it only worked a little bit. If I was being honest, nothing was really going to stop how I felt, but I could stop how I presented myself. I put my brave face on, swallowed my hopeless feelings, and stepped onto the stage with all the swagger I’d possessed before.

I did one last scan of the crowd, as a Hail Mary that maybe something would work out. Maybe the stars aligned and things would go my way. He’d be there. He’d be there just like he promised.

And what I saw startled me to the extent that I almost broke character. Sitting in the front row was none other than Arthur Conan Doyle, with the most focused expression I’d ever seen him bear. He was taking in every bit of what we were doing, eyeing the intricate set and the handmade costumes from our costumer Mitsuki. This changed everything. This absolutely changed everything!

All it took was one moment for everything bad I’d ever felt to evaporate. The rejuvenation was unlike anything I’d ever felt, like I had been born again. My lines became coated with a sort of vigor I hadn’t had until that moment. They came from the chest, louder and stronger than before. My triumphs, my losses, my highest and my lowest were all more pronounced than they had ever been. All thanks to the presence of the one I cared about the most. I had to do my best for him! I just had to perform like everything was at stake!

Like every show, it had to come to an end. The cast and I came out, hand in hand, to take our final bows. Our farewell to the months we’d spent crafting a play all of us were passionate about. One last hurrah before we parted forever. And as my gaze shifted back to the crowd, I could only focus on the blue-haired man who was the first to get on his feet. His confident grin wasn’t that anymore: It was a radiant, delighted smile that reached his eyes. His beautiful, brilliant blue eyes. This was it. This was the happiest I’d ever been post-show.

“You did positively fantastic, bird!” he laughed, scooping me up in a hug once we were able to meet in the theatre lobby. “I was starting to wonder if it was truly you, you are just wonderful at playing someone wholly different! I think you’d even be able to fool me one of those days with those acting skills of yours.”

“Oh no, I’m not that good!” I replied, hugging him back with all the force my body could muster. “I think you think too highly of me.”

“Nonsense, I don’t extend that praise to just anybody. You shone so brightly, even next to your co-stars.” He pulled away to get a good look at my face. “You’re quite red. Could it be that your performance was motivated by something else? Fueled with… Hm, I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

I gulped, trying to hide the growing redness that apparently bled through my makeup. “N-no, I always perform that way! What are you trying to get at here?” Through my defense, I anticipated another teasing jab from Arthur. Was he catching on? Or worse, had he caught on long ago? Oh god, the thought was starting to make me dizzy.

“Well you were simply the best on that stage,” he hummed. “No one else had that sort of passion you did. And it was only when we made eye contact that this all seemed to kick in. It seems my presence boosted your performance. And that, coupled with your flushed little face seems to imply… love, perhaps?”

I stood, completely at a loss as to what to say. He’d cracked the case, like he always did. Digging my hole even further wasn’t going to help me in the long run. I sighed the heaviest sigh and nodded. “Yeah, maybe a little bit.”

“Just a little bit? That disappoints me. I must say that I feel very similarly about you. You’re quite cute when you’re embarrassed, you know.”

“Hey, I’m not- What?! What did you say?!”

Arthur chuckled, relaxing a bit. “I return your feelings, love. The passion you feel for me, I feel it for you too. How could I not? So you don’t have to worry. You don’t have to be embarrassed any longer. I’m truly in love with you.”

I soaked in every word he said, still wondering if I was in a dream. It seemed too good to be true. Well, whether or not I was in a dream, I knew I had to act. I stepped forward and hugged Arthur again, mashing my lips against his, to which he returned the favor.

[fayesdiary]

Top 5 characters from Shadows of Valentia!

Sure! Since you haven't played Echoes I'm gonna be a bit more vague than usual!

Rudolf) I don't know what's going on anymore. I hate this man. I ironically love this man. He's one of the characters I think about most. He genuinely inspired a lot of my most interesting discussions about this game. He's a shitty character, a shittier ruler and the shittiest parent. I made an April Fools where I pretended to stan him. Dunking on him brings me joy.

5) Python. This man, I swear. Ever since I started working he's been the biggest mood. Why bother putting effort into something that barely matters to you for someone who only cares about how much you can make them earn, after all? He even criticized the monarchy straight to Clive's face! This man is as "lazy" as he is clever, and he's in the Deliverance just so he can support his boyfriend and see him achieve his dream of becoming a knight.

Also he supports aro rights in a series that can get very obsessed with romance, seriously this man is based

4) Sonya! This is a woman who knows she's hot shit and relishes it, she never stops being confident, has a personal beef with the main antagonist, and despite very much being a self-interested mercenary with her own agenda, it turns out said agenda is to help women who met her same fate as her sisters. It's a wonderful example of giving a character an engaging personality and just enough information to get you interested, while still keeping an air of mystery around it, which is why I'll always choose her over Deen.

3) Clive! Honestly, if Echoes wasn't a remake, I think he would have made a wonderful protagonist. I adore how the game makes painfully clear in both the main story and his DLC supports that while he does mean well and wants to improve the life of the common people, he knows next to nothing about the problems they actually face, and he's still unconciously valuing the nobles as superior to commoners and that's something he has to work on if he wants to make any meaningful change.

He's one of the best written characters of Fire Emblem, honestly.

2) Celica! I've talked so much about her, she's one of my favorite characters of the entire series, honestly, while I wish she didn't get shafted near the end of the game she's still so good!

1) Faye! I mean come on, this blog is themed after her! She's definitely not the most popular or the best written by far, but at the same time there's so much about her that I dig. I love that her obsession with Alm has both a reasonable explanation and is treated as genuinely unhealthy for once (she's the one character in the entire series that has one of her stats drop if she's supporting Alm and is next to him, specifically her Avoid), I love how despite this she's still overjoyed to see Celica, and I have a soft spot for socially awkward characters because honestly, same.

[opalsdarkreadings]

✰𝙅𝙪𝙟𝙪𝙩𝙨𝙪 𝙆𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙎/𝙊. 𝘽𝙤𝙣𝙪𝙨: 𝙎𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙍𝙮𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣✰

Pairing: Gojo, Yuji, Fushiguro, Nobara, Sukuna x gender neutral reader

Warning: angst, depression themes, mentions of blood

Notes: I love the smell of saddens and crying in the morining, great starter of the days. lol I hope you all enjoy, there’ll be some grammical errors so please just ignore and I’ll try to fix them when I spot them. And I’m addicted to this series and characters so I’ll be releasing a bunch of others stuff regarding this show soon.

✵𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘂✵

You were going to get up, you always did. The two inseparable prankster would be back at it agian like always. Like old times. You....you were fine

But the pit of his stomach twist and churn, his heart aching with a new found sense of despair. He knew, so why didn’t he just accepted it.

NO! You were going to get up, you just liked to joke around that’s all. So why did he feel a surge of rage so deep, so painful that ach his very core. Even destroying the special grade left nothing but dissatisfaction.

For the first time in his life he felt... hesitant.

Your body unmoving from the blow dealt by the curse demon. The curse being dealt with in seconds afterwards. The stillness felt eery, his heart pounding against his chest as he makes his way to you unmoving body

He crouch and pulled the slik blind off his face, beautiful bright blue eyes scanning over you body. Sadness being reflected in them but he kept that signiature smile of his

“S/o...can you still move?” He asked hoping, silently praying you could at least answer him.

...nothing.

“Cutie-chan~ quit playing around...get up so we can go home....” the weak laugh that left his lips felt more like whimper, as you continue to not answer him.

He doesn’t even know why he’s trying, he should be use to it. He’s lost thousands of friends in battle, time and time agian. One of his students wouldn’t come back, a coworker that didn’t make it, a close friends that died tragically. He’s heard it all.

So why did it hurt so much?...

Droplets fell over you color ridden cheek, you body being lifted into a broad chest. As Satoru buried his face into the crook of your neck, that awful perfume he hate infiltrating his nose, a choked laught left him.

“God I hate that perfum..”

That smile of yours as bright as the evening star, flooded his mind, your words ringing out as he cradled your dead body.

“I know you do, but you still love me~.”

✵𝘆𝘂𝗷𝗶 𝗶𝘁𝗮𝗱𝗼𝗿𝗶✵

That face, you always made that face whenever you did something stupid. Honestly, he couldn’t talk much, seeing on half the crap he’s done was on impulse, however...god you were an idiot.

You Could’ve lived, left him there on the cool slab of the concrete, the beast that was too far over their heads coming his way. He could’ve handled it, Sukuna was a stubborn bastard, but wouldn’t let him die.

You were and utter fool and he cursed about it to this day.

But it all felt like slow motion, the pounding of your footsteps hitting against the ground, his weak shouts trying to get you to go back. The drop in his stomach as that sickening crack echoed out the domain.

There was so much blood, the walls were splattered with it, the floor painted a sea of red, your body nothing more than crushed remembrance of what it used to be.

He’s never felt such a feeling of rage so strong before. All his actions a blur until late on. When he’s bound by a cursed rope and set aside near the school where the cursed demon was located.

A stretcher hauling, what’s once was your body. Your hand peeking out from under the blood covers. That’s all it took for him to lose it.

The rope keeping his struggling body from moving as he sobbed hysterically.

“S/O! S/O! Answer me please..please! Why would you do that?! You’re such an idiot damnit, don’t you dare leave me...you promised.” He fell over the harsh ground, tears cascading down from his cheek to the floor.

Fushiguro and Nobara gazes lowered to the ground. Effectively trying to hold back their friend as your body was carried off.

His sobs turning into quiet whimpers. It dawned on him, he’s was official alone now. You and his Grampa being taken from him unfairly. He had no one, you would never smiles at him agian

Slap his head whenever he got a little to handsy or tease Him relentless when he slipped up and blurtted out random things

Your sweet laugh would be distance memory of the past, something that made his heart squeeze with hurt.

“That’s no fair...it’s not fair.” He mumbles soflty to himself

Sukuna for once, was eerily silent.

✵𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗼 𝗠𝗲𝗴𝘂𝗺𝗶✵

He still couldn’t believe it. It all happened so quickly. One minute you two were sharing a passionate night, basking under the moonlight as you kiss and bodies dance together.

And the next, he’s cradling your bleeding body, words stuck in his throat and horror swirling on his eyes. Trembling hands trying to stop the blood from gushing out from your neck.

The bastard had got away but he could care less. “S-s/o..just...just stay awake for me okay...c-can you do that for me?” His words trembled off his lips, your eyes shifting over to his. The dullness setting in.

Weakly, your fingers brush over his cheek, his hands reaching up and taking hold of them as he kiss over the knuckle. “You’re....you’re gonna be okay! I promise the others are coming.” He hadn’t realized it but tears had already started falling from his eyes.

He was lying out his ass, the culprit behind this, another cursed user, has been terrorizing this part of town for months now. They weren’t letting him getaway, so you’re mostly his responsibility till the aftermath. He knew you didn’t have that long.

He went to move you but you grunt in pain, more blood pooling out from the wound. He cursed and held you on the bloodstained ground.

“I’m sorry...I-I’m so sorry..” he mumbles into your neck, uncaring if his face was stained with blood as his quiet sobs racked his body.

With as much strength you could muster, you raised your hand to be lazily placed over his head and stroked it over it like you always did.

“I...I l-love you..” you whispered to him, your body becoming slack and your hand falling to your side.

He didn’t need to check, he didn’t need to see whatever expression your face was making to know that you were gone. His grip over your lifeless body tightens, his cries reaching into screams.

This felt all too familiar to him.

He wanted to blame you for breaking his defense, to inching so close to his heart. For making him so happy and attached, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy the moments that came with it.

The memories that’ll forever stay replaying like a broken record in his mind. This is why he didn’t try to make friends, he didn’t try to get close, he hated that he loved you so much.

✵𝗡𝗼𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗮 𝗞𝘂𝗴𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗸𝗶✵

Maybe she was too mean to you, not caring enough, She mishandled you to many times, to many fights and arguments over tedious things that should have been left as it was.

Was this her punishment? She allowed for such actions to boil and fester, and now what? A dumb argument over a stupid past that no longer connected to you and the exchange was your life. 

Even though you said you sorry’s, I love you’s, there was still tension before you both part. Nobara saving to say all those mushy things she felt for when you were back in her arms

Oh, the deep regret she felt.

The way her teammates came back quieter than usual and more seemly more sluggish then earlier

“What are you idiots standing like that for, that cursed demon shake you that bad. Hmph, simple enough what would you guys be with me?” She teased her sly smile spreading over her lips before it falter

They didn’t even try to agrue much less protest, they just seem distraught, stunned even. Then I dawned on her, they were missing someone...they were missing you.

“Where’s...where’s s/o?” She asked them soflty. A look of guilt overcame Yuji's features as he fished for something out of his pocket.

Confusion ran across Nobara face before it morphed into horror. A single scrap of a school uniform being held out in his hand.

“We...we couldn’t get their body..” Megumi finished his gaze meeting her’s before falling back to his feet. Fist clenched tightly to his side.

She barely heard anything after that, her eyes fixated on the single scrap of clothing. She inched to Yuji taking it and stroking her thumb over the material.

She bites her bottom lip, this was fates cruels joke. She didn’t deserve you from the beginning, it seems like everywhere she went someone had to leave her.

But why did it have to be violent? Why you out of all people. Maybe she should have told her how much you meant to her.

How much of a rock and pillars you were in this crazy life of hers. A beam of reassurance and love that she could always depend on whenever she needed you.

How does she continue now, that beams were gone, taken from her so harshly. The only things she could cling so desperately to have been the last thing she saw you in.

What a cruel world she lived in.

✵𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚✵

There was always some form of a catch when it came to huamsn. No relationship or friendship was formed without a common goal or another interest being taken into play.

The sweet smiles, honey-coated words, and gentle touches were always a facade...wasn’t it?

He could care less about what happened to you, what became of you. After all humans are dirty devilish creatures so even more so then cursed beast.

But he didn’t understand... he didn’t understand why he felt such strong stings of anger, sadness, and a bit of shock bubble in him as you push him out the way.

Did you place some sort of technique over him, that made the king of curses catch such disease as emotions? Laced your words and touches with magic that only you could see and undo....no that’s not it.

Possible it was this damn vessel's fault. Always hanging off your words and embraces like a lovesick fool. Opting to distract himself with your praise and love then rather focus on what’s important at hand.

though denying that he didn't enjoy your persevere, from time to time would make the ping of guilt worsen.

Your body hit the floor with a loud thud, the gaping hole through your chest made the anger and feelings of anguish flow in him.

He didn’t even notice when he had taken over Yuji's body, destroying the very thing that took you away from him. The slaughter more animalistic and erratic as his state of sanity seems to be blown out the window.

He cares not for the look of horror and fear that clouded Yuji's teammate's face. Not concerning much of his attention to them, he came over, plucked your dead body from the ground, and disappear.

Appearing back to that place you talked with Yuji so dearly about..what was it again. He couldn’t recall the name, only knowing about the large wisteria trees that guard the scenery. 

“Dumb human...surely foolish beings you are.” He mumbles you head was press into his chest as he looked out from the Cliffs view.

“Look what you have done, making me feeling things for you..” his voice soft as he pushed back small strands from your face. Yuji memories of this morning playing back

“You two better make it out of here alive or I’m kicking both of your butts.” You proclaimed earning a whine from Yuji and scoff from Sukuna as he appeared on the other’s cheek. “Dare I ask how you’ll be able to deafest me, don’t bite more than what you can chew.” He threatens but only succeeded in making you laugh, “Mhm..yeah you’re right I’m just worried about my two favorite boys.” You had told them, leaning in and kissing a flustered Yuji, “I love you both so be safe.” Okay and no stupid actions.” You scolded Yuji plucking the boy's head.

A weak laugh fell off from his lips, “Looks who’s talking, you’re the one that’s gone and died on us..” he spoke aloud. Moving to crouch by the tree and sit your body against the bark.

He let one finger trail over your lips and down your features letting them be engraved in his memory as he gazes down at you.

That disease having still affecting him, even as you lay dead in front of him. These feeling of sadness and heart ach and most of all loneliness suffocating and clawing at his throat

He dare not shed a tear, Yuji would do enough of that for the both of them. Instead, he let his hand gently cup over your cold and colorless cheek. The warmth he remembers oh so clearly, know felt like something that occurs ages ago.

He leans his forehead against yours and shutting his eyes, and allowing Yuji to take control.

You’d never heard him say, though he wished you are hear so he could that dazzling smile as he did

“I love you... S/o.”

[honeydarlings]

Hi!! Could you write something for Toshi or Enji (Whichever character you feel like writing for!) with a darling that escapes for a few days and when he finally gets her home, all of that fear just turns into anger and hate fucks her while talking about how ungrateful she is? (Preferably with a bondage, overstimulation and degradation kink!)

(I hope you enjoy this bubs !! )

Ungrateful

TW || Non-con, bondage, degradation, overstim and fem!reader

“I’ll be back at around 9 tonight. Behave.” Enji grumbled, upset that he had to leave you alone. All you did was bow your head. Once you heard the door click shut you stood from the rough leather couch, determined to finally escape. You made your way to the back window of the large cottage. You pulled the broken lock off and ripped the screen. Every single time Enji would leave you would always go back to this window, prying at the lock, which was already slightly broken, trying to fully break it off. Today was the day, the lock was off the window. You could leave. Without hesitation you leapt through the window and started running through the deep woods, not looking back at the nightmare you were leaving behind.

Enji rattled his keys, unlocking the last barricade. He pushed the large door open and was met with silence. The TV wasn’t on, nothing was being made in the kitchen and you never came up to greet him. “Darling?” He called out, his voice echoed through the empty house. That’s when the panic set in. He rushed through the house shouting to you, checking every room, every hiding spot. Then he noticed the window. The open window with the broken screen. He was breathing heavily as he stared at the place where you made your swift escape. “Selfish brat.” He hissed, storming out of the house, preparing to find you. He wouldn’t rest until he did and when he did, you would pay.

Days had passed since you managed to escape, you had reached a small dirt road which led to an old abandoned cottage. You had been staying there since, patching up cuts that the woods had given you and trying to make a plan to find a police station. You were re-bandaging the large cut on your ankle when suddenly the front door swung open, snapping the puny lock. Your heart dropped. You wanted to scream. You wanted to get up and run. But you couldn’t move. Enji stood in the doorway, anger and disappointment painting his face. “Y/n.” He threatened. You knew that you had no chance of escaping him again, so you admitted defeat. You limped over to Enji like a weak little bunny. His large hand swiftly gripped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Did you honestly think you could get away from me? You stupid girl.” He snarled. You felt tears sting your eyes, you were so close, so close to happiness. He hoisted you over his shoulder, carrying you all the way back to your prison.

Enji pushed open the large door and threw you to the floor. He slammed the door, locking it. He approached your weakened body, suddenly grabbing your hair, pulling you upwards. “You ruined everything between us. I thought I could trust you but I was proven wrong.” His voice was low, his face full of fury. “I suppose now I’ll have to break you properly. To insure you’ll stay.” You were shaking. Hot tears fell down your cheeks. “Please! Enji I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I was just scared!” You wailed. He just shook his head and dragged you by the wrist to the bedroom. He slammed your body onto the bed and ripped your dirty clothes off. “I’ve really tried to be nice, dear. But you’ve always been so damn difficult. I own you.” He reached underneath the bed pulling out coiled rope. He grabbed your wrist wrapping the rough material around it. You sobbed, begging him not to do this but he didn’t listen. You were bad, you deserved this. “You’re such an ungrateful little bitch.” He spat, tightening the rope. He tied your other wrist and then smashed his lips into yours. You tried to pull away which earned a hard bite on your bottom lip. You tasted blood. Enji pulled away now staring at your naked body. Enji then straddles your hips, placing his rough fingers onto your clit. You whined as he rubbed tight circles. “Look at how wet you already are, you little slut. I’ve barely touched you. I’m beginning to believe you’re enjoying this.” Enji was sneering, suddenly stuffing a finger inside your tight cunt. You moaned quietly as Enji’s large finger slipped in and out of your pussy. “P-please Enji. I’m sorry!” You cried out. He let out a low laugh at your plea then added two more fingers. His fingers were so thick, a single one already felt like he was pounding you but here you lay with three of his fingers inside of you. You howled in pain and pleasure as Enji sped up. You choked as you came. Your whole body shaking as your juices gushed onto Enji’s fingers. He pulled his fingers out and stuffed them in your mouth. “Suck them, self-centered little whore.” Enji muttered as you sucked on his thick fingers. He started grinding his erection between your thighs, suddenly biting your hard nipples. You were sobbing as he thigh- fucked you. Out of nowhere Enji suddenly slammed his cock into your cunt, bottoming out. “Ow! Fuck!” You screamed as Enji started fucking you. His long, girthy cock sliding almost all the way out then ramming right back into your cervix. You were full out sobbing, crying out inaudible words as Enji pounded you into the mattress. “Until you learn to be -fuck- grateful you’re going to be my dirty little cumdump.” He growled into your ear. The rope around your wrists was rubbing your skin, causing a hot burning sensation. “I’m- fuck!” Enji let out a low groan as his hot cum filled your stomach. You came with him for the second time. As you both came down from your high you began to relax. “Did you think I was done? I won’t stop until I’m ready to. You don’t have a say, bitch. You’re my property, and I’ll use you as such.” Enji then stuffed his cock inside your pussy again. It felt like you were going to split in two, it hurt being fucked by him. It hurt to cum, you knew he wouldn’t stop no matter how much you begged, how much you cried. You were his little fucktoy until you learned to behave.

“You’re taking my cock so well, pet.” Your wails turning him on more. He bit your neck over and over. Fucking you harder. You couldn’t form words anymore, not that he’d listen to them anyway. It felt like hours had passed at this point, you felt as if you were going to pass out. You couldn’t cum anymore and your throat burned from all the crying and begging you had been doing. You couldn’t feel your legs. Just as you were about to black out Enji collapsed on top of you. “I hope you learned your lesson.” He stood and put his clothes back on. He headed towards the door. “W-wait, don’t leave me like this.” You slurred. “Stupid girl. You’ll stay tied up until I see fit.” Enji exited the bedroom leaving you naked and tied up. You were terrified but deep down you knew, you deserved this.

(Requests still open, feel free to request as much as you’d like !!)

[stellar-imagines]

NSFW SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝that damned piercing.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

「NSFW Scenario of Bakugou who recently got a tongue piercing and you’re forced to wait for him to recover before you can have some sexy time.」

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

Honestly, when Bakugou came home and announced that he got his tongue pierced, you were surprised. He told you that you looked absolutely in awe like a kid receiving a present during Christmas. You were happy for him, since he had been contemplating whether he should get it pierced or not. But you didn’t realize how that piercing will affect your relationship with your hot-headed boyfriend. 

To begin with, you wouldn’t call yourself the type of girl who would constantly want attention from their boyfriend. You respected his personal space and never forced him into anything he didn’t like. But on that day when he got his piercing, you were about to kiss him like you normally do but he rejected it. It was something he did often, telling you to stop being so mushy but he would always give in. But it felt different this time, you could sense that he had a different reason for rejecting it.

”At least 4 weeks are needed for him to recover.”

4 entire weeks without kissing your boyfriend? That’s preposterous! You didn't know that you had to suffer from not being able to show your boyfriend your love and affection. Honestly, it shouldn't be such a big deal but you made it into one. You were an overly dramatic person and thought that your boyfriend might actually die without receiving any affection from you. But it's the other way around. Bakugou just thinks that you're overreacting, thinking that it was the end of the world. This guy has no idea what kind of effect he has on you. He just has to exist for you to be weak at the knees for him. Again, a bit too dramatic.

You like to imagine that you're back in the days where you kept your relationship with Bakugou as a secret. He had never been the type for PDA to begin with so you try your best to remember what you went through back then. You'd both hold pinkies underneath the table and sneak kisses whenever no one is looking. However, the more you thought about that, the more you wanted to kiss him. So you quickly devised a new plan to distract yourself. While you were busy trying to figure out a way to keep your hands to yourself, Bakugou wasn’t faring any better.

You had somehow managed to convince him that having a tongue piercing is kind of hot. He recalled about you gushing over some celebrity who got a tongue piercing and he kind of got pissed off that you were fawning over a celebrity when you had him. To be honest, he seems to be enjoying that you seem to be suffering from not being able to kiss him as he would deny you from it, saying that he needed to recover. Bakugou had to admit that he, himself was starting to reach his limit.

“I'm home.” Bakugou grumbles underneath his breath as he stands at the entrance of your shared apartment.

As soon as he announced his arrival, you welcomed him back and quickly ran towards him only to latch onto his back like a koala. You gave him a quick peck on his lips and had waited for him to take off his shoes. After he did that, you were looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. Bakugou, on the other hand, didn't seem to quite understand what you wanted from him. His eyes narrowed at you, a bit annoyed with that sparkly aura you're emitting. You looked like a person who just ordered something online that will take a week to arrive but decides to wait by the entrance as if it were gonna arrive any minute.

"What? Are you horny or something?" he asked so casually that it made your cheeks burn bright red.

"No! I'm not horny!" you slapped his arm before storming away. Bakugou rolled his eyes in response, giving you his signature smirk as he headed to your shared room to change into his house clothes. The time was nearing 10 at night, the two of you had dinner separately. Bakugou who had used his agency's shower to get rid of the grime from the mission he has earlier and was very pleased after changing into his clothes. He sat on the couch next to you and before he knew it, you were climbing onto his lap.

"So you're horny after all." he teased.

"Shut up, I just wanna cuddle with you." you huffed with a pout, burying your face onto his chest. Bakugou put his hand on your back as you clung onto him for a while. You eventually shifted around until you had your back against his chest, eyes fixated on the television.

"Wait, have you fully recovered?" you asked. Bakugou wanted to facepalm but instead, he rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't kiss you if I haven't recovered yet, dumbass." 

Bakugou didn't even let you respond, pulling you into another kiss. Your hands found their way around his neck, wrapping themselves around him as you kissed him back. He had his hands around your back, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed up against one another. He felt your hands leave his back, only to feel them wander to his soft ash blonde hair, your nails lightly scratching at his scalp in a certain way that he really loved. He let out a soft grunt into the kiss.

Makeout sessions with Bakugou usually led to something more. You felt lightheaded and gasping for breath once he pulled away. For someone who claims to not be romantic, his kisses were always intense and filled with passion. Then again, he's always better when it comes to showing his feeling through actions instead of words. You could see a string of saliva connecting your tongues and feel that your cheeks were burning hot. The sight of you looking so lost and panting was enough to make him hard.

"You're being an asshole." you mumbled absentmindedly.

"But who's the idiot who decided to date this asshole?" he smirked.

"I am." you said with a pout, avoiding his gaze. 

Bakugou found himself grinning, lifting his body to settle between your thighs. It had been so long since you both got intimate like this and he was determined to make up for the lost time. Your hands threaded into his messy hair, gently scratching at the scalp, something he really liked. He pressed his lips against your inner thighs, pulling at your oversized sweater ― which probably belonged to him. The ball on his tongue felt cold against your hot skin. It made you let out a small whimper when he began biting your skin, hard enough to leave marks that you certainly last for days.

He glanced up at you smugly as he tugged your panties down your legs, not even caring about what kind of design it had. Usually, he would take some time to admire your choice of underwear, no matter how ridiculous it was. He put his hands underneath your thighs and pulled your body closer to his face as he spread your legs apart. Bakugou could hear the low moan coming from you when he prodded at your clit with his fingers. You were about to complain at him for taking his time until you felt his tongue lick a long line along your folds.

The sensation of the metal piercing scraping along your sex had you writhing beneath him as his grip tightened against your legs. Your moans echoed in the room, fingers latching onto his hair, tugging at his ash blonde strands. Bakugou let out a low hum, eyes half lidded as he slowly and tortuously lapped at the juices that leaked form your pussy.

"Fuck—! You taste so fucking good." he cursed, his nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. Moans of his name spilled from your parted lips unabashedly, as one of his finger slid down to tease your entrance. His finger went it with ease and Bakugou had this look on his face as he watched your pussy practically suck his finger in — a look similar to when a kid is watching their mom cook in the kitchen. He didn’t think twice about adding another finger into the fray. The added stretch earned a higher pitch of moans from you.

"Yes, yes! Oh god! Katsuki, faster, faster!"

He hummed around your clit, pulling his finger out as he brings your hips up to insert his tongue into your twitching pussy.  You gasp and whine at the welcome intrusion as he laps you up, tongue and fingers working you towards your first orgasm. he relishes in every sound coming out of your mouth. Bakugou has always been good with his mouth, never leaving you unsatisfied, but you want nothing more than to be filled and fucked to oblivion right now.

Curling his finger while pushing deeper, he hit that sweet spot inside you, eyes locked on the way your pussy clenched around his fingers. He pulled his fingers out before you could even come, much to your displeasure. With his fingers coated in your essence, his gaze locked with yours, bringing his fingers to his mouth. Pink velvety muscle darted out to lick it clean, humming, a grin spreading on his face. You lightly glared at him.

“What’s with that look, Princess? Upset that you didn’t get to cum?”

His voice was teasing and clearly mocking you. His eyes was dark with lust and you knew if you crossed him, you’d be punished. And to be honest, the thought of that didn’t sound so bad. You head was foggy and you didn’t even see Bakugou dive back into your pussy until you felt his tongue on your clit. A sharp gasp resonated in the room, music to the ash blonde’s ears. Without having to look at him, you could tell how smug he was.

The ball of his piercing was pressed firmly against your clit, he watched as you try to grind your hips against his face. Bakugou moved his mouth to your clit, sucking against it harshly as he began to flick his tongue against you. He deliberately moved it in a way that his piercing was hitting the right spots making you moan even louder. The sensation made your hips jerk, followed by your incoherent pleads. After a few moments, he pulled away yet again, just when you’re about to reach your peak too. Your head was starting to spin and your stomach was flipping so much that you almost feel sick. But the pleasure he had bestowed upon you distracted you from all those negative feelings.

 “Yeah? I knew you’d fuckin’ like it.” he groaned.

“Katsuki, please.” you whimpered as he repositioned himself between your legs. 

“We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for, Princess.” He brings his hand to the back of your head, pressing a kiss on your lips. Bakugou takes the chance to get atop of you, cupping your breasts and gently squeezing them in his large hands. You love how big his hands were, they always feel so large compared to your own and you feel very safe. A gasp left your lips when he pinches your nipple, arching your chest into his hands. You could feel him, his erection throbbing against your thigh.

"I wanna be on top today." you managed through the ragged pants that left your lips. Bakugou finds himself raising an eyebrow and smirking at your sudden assertiveness but he wasn't complaining at all.

Bakugou laid down and you crawled over on top of him, kissing his cheeks before lining yourself up against his cock. You gripped onto his shoulder with your left hand while your right grasped his cock, guiding it to your soaking pussy. You lowered your hips down slowly, moaning when his cock stretched your walls apart. He's laid comfortably on the couch, head one the cushion with his strong hands guiding your hips as you ride him. Honestly, you wanted to cry. When was the last time you were on top? No, the real question was when was the last time you had sex with Bakugou. His groans were low and soft, music to your ears, and a signal for you to start moving. 

He had his hands on your hips, aiding your movements and supporting you so that you wouldn't tire out too early. Bakugou's cock is hot and hard in your pulsing walls. You were so damn sensitive, not having the time to even recovering from the orgasm earlier, your cum coated his length. He paid no mind and focused on how tight your pussy was even after being stretched earlier. You tossed your head back, moaning his name to the Gods above and pleading silently.

"Look at you, moaning like a slut over my fucking cock." he grunts and reached to grope your breasts. Your moans encouraged him to meet your downward thrusts with his own upwards thrust. Without having to steady himself, Bakugou thrust upwards faster while rubbing and pinching your hardened nipples. The added simulation made you gasp and the swirling feeling inside your stomach was starting to build up. 

"Please, Katsuki!" you pleaded. 

"Don't stop! It feels good right there, go faster!" you begged so desperately that your head was starting to spin from the speaking to fast and all the panting. It was as if you were deprived of oxygen, like a fish washed onto the shore and flopping about. The sound of your skin slapping against one another and the sticky slaps produced from the slick that coated your thighs, served to turn Bakugou on even more. Your hands found purchase on his toned abs, bouncing almost violently against his cock.

It took some effort for you to open your eyes to see Bakugou's face tightened in concentration, his hands wandering everywhere from your breasts, waist, hips, and thighs. He can't keep his eyes off you, the tears pricking at the edges of your eyes and how his cock thrusts in and out of your cunt. He loves seeing your tits bounce along with your motions and how you can’t help but do anything but claw meekly at his chest and abs as he wrecks you in the best way possible.

"Come on, babygirl." he licked his lips, moving his hand around your waist to grope your ass. The slapping of your skin sounds obscene and your cheeks burn at the noise.

"I'm close!" you whined, unable to handle the overwhelming feeling of pleasure. Bakugou groans, his mind losing it over the way your throbbing walls cling onto your cock.

"Fuck!" With a well-aimed thrust to your g-spot, you let out one last scream of his name, your pussy tightening around his cock and reached your climax. Bakugou swears under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening. He thrusts upwards a few times, moving your hips down as he cums, filling you up to the brim. You let out a small relieved sigh, falling against his chest as you listened to his racing heartbeat. 

There was no way you could move at this moment, not when your legs feel like jelly and your head spinning from everything that happened. It took a moment for Bakugou to get over his fatigue before lifting you up and moving you to your shared bedroom. He kissed you on the forehead before leaving the room. You closed your eyes while Bakugou headed to the kitchen to grab a glass of a water for you. It was when the bed dipped next to you that you realize that he has returned.

"Katsuki, carry me to the bathroom, please." you whined, your thighs were still sticky from the mixture of your relaese and Bakugou's cum. You could feel it slowly dripping your thighs and it wasn't long until it hit the sheets. Of course, you don't want to deal with soiled bedsheets. Honestly, you questioned how he can still stand after all that.

"You're that tired?" he lightly taps your back as you whined.

"Who did all the work, huh?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes, fully aware of what you're trying to hint.

"Exactly." 

Total: 2714 words Published: 13.10.2020

Thank you for requesting! ｡٩(ˊᗜˋ)و*｡ We take a long time to finish NSFW Requests. We hope you liked it! ― author Lou

Thank you for requesting it! Hope you enjoyed this! ― author Natsuki

Requests are open! Matchups are closed!

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[cherry-interlude]

Lana Del Rey Unreleased Ranking (5)

This is a re-ranking of Lana's unreleased songs, after making a first a few years ago. This is all my opinion, which I don't mind anyone disagreeing with but don't come for me for it - honestly, I like every song, despite any criticism, and this ranking is very vague. It's based on objective and subjective opinion.

This is the fifth of five posts, with my favourites.

Wild One

Lana is nostalgic without the sadness, remembering how she’d shake it for Mike but is embracing her freedom. She lets country influence seep through her voice and her uncomplicated instrumentals – it would be an unsurprising addition to Chemtrails

True Love On The Side

Though simple in structure and lyrics, it’s more Lana’s grittier rock sound and her incredible vocals that make this one of my favourite unreleased tracks. Lana lets herself go and goes full pop rock chick for this track, whilst keeping in with her ‘other woman’ trope that makes the song still familiar despite its departure from her usual music.

Driving In Cars With Boys

Dripping in nostalgia, Driving In Cars With Boys makes you yearn for the kind of 1950s/1960s era Lana often laments over. Lana is a bad girl just having fun, doing what she pleases and giving in to her vices, and it’s this kind of song that is relatable in its escapism and desire to just do what you please. There are two versions, one with a more monotone chorus that matches the rest of the verses and another where Lana sings in a higher register, letting her cheerful, breezy love for driving with the boys shine through in her vocals.

Angels Forever Forever Angels

Perfect for Paradise, Angels Forever Forever Angels has that slow, rhythmic summer drive feel, a relaxed version of Ride which also has associations with the bikers that feature in both the music video for Ride and the lyrics to this unreleased song. It’s dreamy but grounded by Lana’s patriotic love for the grungier side of Americana.

Hollywood

It has a breathy chorus you could sing to, the feeling of a summer evening and blue skies. The ever building and dropping beat that keeps the song ticking as restlessly as Lana’s hopes and dreams gets me feeling pumped as much as her emphasised, dragged out “Hollywood” in the chorus makes me soothed. Lana is wishing for fame and fortune but it has the feel of an eighties American teen movie, iconic and deserving of a cult following.

Yes To Heaven

Hazy like a daydream, Yes To Heaven is made of sunlight and soft grass, closer to nature than the spotlights of Lana’s often alcohol-soaked, money drenched stages. Lana’s voice is tentative until it shimmers in the chorus, and though it was made for Ultraviolence, it wouldn’t be out of place on the shining beacon of hope that is Lana’s positive turn, Lust For Life.

Life Is Beautiful

This gorgeous song was intended for Age of Adaline’s trailer, and it’s been years of waiting for the full song to be released. Now we have it, it’s certainly worth the wait. Dreamy and soft, this track is a timeless classic that could underwhelm from it’s gentle feel but works perfectly well as a pure little love song.

On Our Way

Stripped back and with a country twang, Lana doesn’t add fuss and frills to this song, instead just crooning precisely how she feels in the kind of song that keeps you daydreaming for hours. Not even the smattering of her favourite imagery (Chevrolets and K-Mart lip gloss) overshadows the love that’s at the forefront of this track.

Never Let Me Go

Like On Our Way, Never Let Me Go has the country twang and stripped back feel that makes this a more subdued song, her lyrics shining even more. Lana’s additional strings layer this song well and her comparisons to the dangerous couple that is Sid and Nancy gives this track an edge, keeping it from being too frothy.

French Restaurant

A piano ballad, Lana strips back the hurt of Without You and dual dedication of Video Games to sing about how fame matters so little to her while she’s torn between two men. Her voice is beautiful and it does well to be so minimal in its production, her emotion driving the song clearly enough. Especially pretty are the backing vocals of the choruses, echoes of her thoughts that hammer home her broken feelings.

Trash Magic

Lana’s delicate and soft vocals help tie into the Lolita-esque character Lana often plays in her music. It has a similar feel to 1949, dripping with her delicious imagery, and wouldn’t be out of place on AKA Lizzy Grant. Lana is the fragile ‘daddy’s girl’ again in this song, and the sharp yet soothing music in the background sets the tone for a quiet trailer park night.

Us Against The World

Though fairly chilled out, Lana still hooks listeners with her characterisation of waitress by day/stripper by night, a dangerous girl tempting an equally dangerous guy. Lana drips sexiness in this song and though it’s not as exciting as some of her other unreleased pop hits, it is perfect for the Del Rey character.

Your Girl

Much like Caught You Boy, Lana is desperate for a man she can’t have but is instead a complete wreck. Lana just repeats over and over how she wishes she was this man’s girl, practically pleading after describing how she needs to be led off the stage from falling apart. Yet it’s still sultry, still passionate, and is topped off by her honey-like vocal demonstration in the bridge and the chorus.

Roses

Lana is the other woman with a twist – instead of moping about her man (Other Woman, Sad Girl) she is taking action. Fighting against him, not letting him go without making some noise and getting rid of his girlfriend, Lana storms into the song with a vengeful wrath and calls him out for his poor attempts at apologies. When this song first came out, I adored it, since it was the exact kind of strong-girl track I wanted from her with a great hook and all the right Lana-isms. Now, I still get that thrill listening to this song and its kick-ass fuck-you to the man she loves.

Playing Dangerous

The churning drums, the spoken verses and the coy vocals set this song apart from her others. It falls shorter during the choruses, the verses being the best parts of the track, but the way Lana interacts with the listener ultimately and is a more direct character of ‘innocent’ seductress who might actually be downright bad (arson is hinted).

Serene Queen

Lana is unbothered and unruffled, as collected as she is in Put Your Lips Together but this time with a definite Ultraviolence/Honeymoon feel. Lana is unshaken by the blazing guns, instead completely calm with her dangerous lover, questioning why he even has a problem in the first place. As it picks up in the chorus, almost smirking, it becomes one of her finer unreleased songs yet.

Ave Maria

This is just an instrumental but there’s something so beautifully haunting about it. It wouldn’t be out of place in a Hollywood movie, with shades of the Lolita soundtrack instantly coming to mind when it first starts. It even works well without singing, and I hope we get a full version soon.

Puppy Love

From the perspective of a Marilyn Monroe figure, Lana plays the teenage girl wishing for a traditional romance with her lover. It’s ever-so-adorable, harking back to the sweeter parts of the fifties, but there’s a sense of sadness throughout it. Under the surface of the puppy love is the reality that the references to Monroe do not forget her sadness, loneliness and ultimately her overdose. The tone shifts to such an unhappiness in the bridge, directly calling back to Monroe’s phone call shortly before she overdosed, twisting the song to something more melancholic.

Cherry Blossom

The lullaby that grew into the marvellous, completed Cherry Blossom is a lovely tribute to someone small and beloved. Though Lana doesn’t have children yet, the care in her voice and each of her heart-warming compliments and promises is still thoroughly enjoyable – and comforting.

Colour Blue

In a song that reminds me of the love/hate relationship of Norman Fucking Rockwell, Lana takes her time to question why she loves the men that she does and, ultimately, grow from it, beginning to want something different. It’s raw and personal, with a gushing chorus that is complimented fully by the guitar. This song is blue all over, from Lana's opening harmonisation to her abrupt, unhappy ending.

Paradise

This song is, of course, pure paradise. A summery beat, a flippant Lana simply enjoying her lover no matter how long she’ll have him for and her coos of “sick!” and “that’s dope!” make this into a tasty distraction fit for the sunny months. Her casualness in this track is fresh as well as the dance-happy music that she doesn’t often create in her albums.

Meet Me In The Pale Moonlight

Lana is the waitress with a crush in this bop of a track, trying to convince a guy to get with her instead of that “bitch”. Convincing she is, as she uses all of her charm, wit and insistence that there’s no promises behind her intentions to have a good time with him. It’s just a breath of fresh air compared to a lot of her music, not too heavy and perfectly polished. It’s self-assured as much as it is breezy, and calm as it is it’s still a riot to listen to.

Caught You Boy

A dream-esque confession of desire, obsession and pure, crazy love, Lana isn’t outright insane in this track (Kinda Outta Luck, Jealous Girl, Serial Killer) but she hints towards being slightly too attached to her beau and describing herself as an army of one. The song is sweet and flowery but there’s a sadness and danger to it that keeps it from being too sugary.

Fine China

Some of Lana’s best lyrics are in Fine China as she sings of her fractured relationship, unhappy wedding and many beautiful yet easily broken things. It’s a slow, unfussy ballad but her strong voice and stunning lyrics make it so much more than a throwaway unreleased song.

Thunder

What feels like a coming-of-age slow dance song but is ultimately a choir-backed break-up track. Lana’s lyrics are clever and her voice is the perfect complement to The Last Shadow Puppets, this combined work a sure hit that deserves some kind of release and recognition. Lana is frustrated but tender as she leads the song with plenty of presence.

Prom Song Gone Wrong

The fifties feel, the teenage romance, the warm and gorgeous vocals that switch from dreamily longing to a cheeky talk-rap suggest this is a song tied tightly to Puppy Love, except with a more hopeful feel to it. Lana is ready to leave and she wants her lover to come with her, and even if it’s a youthful mistake there’s no mistaking that the love she – and her man – feels is real. It’s a pretty dedication to the kind of head-spinning romance of younger years, though it has an edge to it. Lana’s choruses are desperate, her pleading genuine and the strange way the music builds and collapses right at the end give the illusion all isn’t the sunshine and rainbows Lana sings of – and hopes for.

[polar534]

Jersey Stealing Pt.2

Well. You all need to stop liking my stuff. It only encourages me. Anyways, Jersey Stealing is now at a 4 parter so I lied before apparently. I just got done writing part 3 so I’ll post the second part here now! Honestly it’s the most boring of the 4... so... apologies. I’ve said too many numbers now.

Also eventually I’ll learn how tumblr works and actually just... make a master post... or like link back to previous parts. Ah... dreams. Anyways, we meet a new character today. Apologies in advance, this do be the boring part out of the bunch.

***

“Ms. Noceda?”

“Can you tell me about Luz’s classmates?”

The dish dropped from the woman's hands. The sound of it clattering back into the sink echoed throughout the quiet house.

“I’m sorry!” Amity yelped as the sharp sound caused her to wince.

Camilla turned around quickly, holding up her hands with a smile on her face.

“No, no. It’s fine.” Camilla reassured her gently. “The last time I was asked that, it wasn't a pleasant talk.”

“So, it’s not good then.” Amity sank deeper into her seat at the kitchen table.

In all honesty, there was a part of her that already knew that the truth wasn't pretty. It was the same part that caused a painful twist of her heart whenever her girlfriend 'shut down'.

Camilla sighed. She reached over to the counter and grabbed a towel, drying her hands as she sat down on the opposite end of the small table.

"Well, I'm sure I don't need to tell you this but Luz has always been..."

"Odd." Amity finished for her.

The older lady nodded and suddenly the bags under her eyes seemed to darken. Camilla Noceda looked tired.

"At first, it wasn't such a big deal. Every little child starts off 'odd'." Camilla chuckled. "But eventually all the other kids grew up, while Luz's imagination grew wild."

Amity clenched her fists. She knew where this story was going. Knew how easy of a target a girl like Luz was. After all, it wasn't too long ago that she would jump on the 'odd' ones at school.

"She began to make her classmates feel... uncomfortable. Those who didn't go out of their way to avoid her, lashed out, especially because my daughter doesn't exactly know how to take no for an answer."

"That's an understatement." Amity laughed softly as Camilla cracked a small smile.

"Every school we tried her in had it's own problems. Eventually I think Luz finally understood how the other kids felt about her. That was about when we found a school that seemed to work... but of course there were still problems. And there was also Bryce."

Amity's ears twitched. Bryce? Camilla must've noticed her confusion as the older lady lifted her glasses and rubbed her nose tiredly.

"Bryce was, or rather is, a mean kid who thinks he deserves the world. And because he is the 'star athlete' of the school and is well liked by all the teachers... he usually gets it."

Guilt began to twist in Amity's heart. This sounded all too familiar.

"Him and Luz always got into it. He was the only person who ever managed to bother her. Everyone else she simply... ignored."

Camilla sighed heavily and looked at the table. Amity could tell it bothered her, the way Luz was treated. The witch wondered if Camilla was happier now that Luz had found so many friends in another world.

Or if maybe she was still just stuck in the past.

Amity pushed aside her feelings and Camilla's both as she tried to puzzle together what might have happened the other night. If it was just another spat with Bryce, well, Amity saw how Luz used to handle Boscha. That kinda fighting didn't get to her like this...

Even now, 2 days later, it was obvious something was still bothering Luz.

As Amity sat there, sinking further and further into her chair, another question entered her mind. One that she just had to know... even if it was painful.

"Was there anyone?" The witch blurted out after a short pause.

Camilla looked up at her quizzically.

"Anyone who was... nice to Luz? Or at least gave her a chance."

Amity's heart sank as Camilla shook her head sadly.

"I wouldn’t call the girl nice, but Luz always came home gushing about a Sasha. She was a fine enough girl, never joined the other kids in bullying Luz. I think that’s why Luz held on to the hope that one day they could be friends."

***

“Alright. What’s up with Luz?”

Amity turned as the team captain of the Otter’s skated up to her. The witch immediately turned her head back to look at her girlfriend, sitting quietly in the players box, scribbling something in her notebook.

Luz hadn’t moved all practice.

“Yeah, we noticed all right.” Lokte acknowledged Amity’s unspoken question as she turned back to them with a heavy sigh,

“I don’t know.” Amity answered sullenly.

The witch had nothing. Even the answers Camilla gave her this morning didn’t seem to help. Her shoulders slumped as Lokte lined up for their next shot.  

A loud crack echoed around the rink as the puck sailed straight into the goal. Amity’s eyes flicked up once again to Luz. Normally a shot like that would have her out of her seat and cheering.

Instead, the rink remained quiet.

Lokte kicked up some ice as they skidded back around to rest near Amity again. Leaning against their stick, they raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t know?"

"No." Amity growled, digging at the ice with her skates. "And it's getting worse..."

Lokte shifted, tossing their stick in the air flippantly. Amity could tell Luz's behavior was worrying them too. They were anxious to do something.

"All I know is that something happened at our game the other night. Luz ran into her old classmates."

Her captain growled, and Amity knew why. When the team first started to bond with both her and Luz, they wanted to know why they weren't enrolled in any local school. It was a fair question and Luz told them that they were too cool for school. Amity only told the truth to some of her teammates later. About how poorly Luz was treated and how she had decided to be homeschooled when she came back from 'camp'.

Lokte was one of the more vocally upset ones, having been treated similarly themselves for being who they were. Amity watched as their face changed into a slightly more hopeful expression.

"Wait, you said this happened the other night? My brother goes to Luz's old school, he went to the game with a couple of his friends. I'll bother him about it when I get home. See if the little weasel heard anything." Lokte grinned.

Amity could only stare at them, she glanced back up to Luz as her fingers curled tighter around her stick.

"Try to get names for me. I understand if Luz doesn't want to talk, but I'm looking forward to having a... conversation... with whoever is responsible for this."

Amity felt a gloved hand on her shoulder. Turning around she saw was met with the supportive eyes of her team captain.

"I'll let you know as soon as I know." They nodded.

***

- Is Luz home?

- Yeah she's asleep. Why?

- I'm coming over.

Amity stared at her phone. The short conversation with Lokte happened only a few minutes earlier. She didn't know where they lived, or how they knew where she lived. The witch could only guess it had to do with her girlfriend who was currently passed out, snoring, on her lap. Amity dropped the phone to her side and let her face sink into Luz's hair. In the background she could hear the movie that they had put on earlier, but she couldn't care less about it at the moment.

Amity loved the end of every night, when she was finally able to have Luz all to herself. Squeezing the human ever tighter, Luz sleepily snuggled further into her girlfriend’s arms with a large smile on her face.

The witch sighed as she heard a buzzing come from nearby. It was her phone. She felt a sharp flicker of annoyance, before gently kissing Luz's forehead and leaning back to check it.

Swiping across the screen she answered the call.

"Hey. I'm out front. You're going to want to hear this." Lokte voice answered, their tone guarded.

Amity glanced down at Luz who was still snoring away.

"Alright, give me a moment." Amity told them quietly, hanging up.

Taking a deep breath, she shifted Luz aside her on the couch. Her girlfriend groaned softly, but Amity simply grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to tuck her in, silencing any sleepy protest that would follow. Leaning down she swiped her jersey off the floor and gave it to Luz. For being almost entirely asleep, Luz snatched it quickly from Amity's hands, relaxing back into sleep as she buried her face into the material.

Amity smiled softly. She already couldn't wait to get back under the blankets with her. Grabbing a coat from the front closet, the witch opened the door and slipped out into the night. Standing on the front lawn, Lokte held a squirming kid by the ear.

"Come on, let me go already!!"

"Tell her what you told me!" Lokte ordered sharply, letting the boy's ear go and shoving him forward.

Amity raised an eyebrow. This must've been the little brother.

"Fine. Yeesh! Like I told my sibling over here," the boy turned around to glare at the hulking figure of Lokte before turning back to Amity, "I went to the game with a group of my friends. Sasha and Bryce left to go grab some snacks and when they came back Sasha was really shaken up and Bryce was pissed. They told us something about a really creepy delusional girl who was stalking you. Claiming to be your girlfriend."

Amity's eyes narrowed.

"I don't see why I'm in trouble! We were just watching out for Amity. I mean Bryce usually over exagerrates everything but this was serious. Sasha looked genuinely freaked out, and nothing EVER gets to her. They told the girl that they would call the cops on her if she came near you and then we left shortly after. That's it. That's all that happened. I don't even know what the creep looked like."

Amity's mind was buzzing with anger. She could feel her face going red and had to remind herself to breathe as she heard the two siblings begin to squabble.

"You little, THAT WAS LUZ! Amity's actual girlfriend!"

The boy's eyes widened as they shot between Amity and Lokte.

"Wha- I didn't, I didn't know that!! I swear! The way Bryce was describing her you'd think she was some sort of criminal!" He yelped as Lokte grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket.

"Go. Wait. In. The. Car." They growled. "We'll talk about your choice in friends later."

The boy shrank under his sibling's glare and Amity felt a small bit of pity. Lokte was no small person, they towered over pretty much everyone they met and had the muscles to match. Being on their bad side had to be terrifying, but in actuality that was nothing compared to the pure fury radiating off of Amity as the brother's words registered.

After they watched their brother climb back into the car, Lokte turned to Amity and immediately flinched in fear under the witch's furious stare.

"Looks like I'll be paying Luz's old school a visit tomorrow." Amity growled after a short pause.

Lokte's fear eased only a bit as their eyes lit up with mischief. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I'll see you tomorrow at practice." Amity nodded, ignoring the suggestion as she turned to walk back into the house.

She stopped with her hand on the door handle and turned around. Lokte was climbing back into their car. The teammates shared a look as Amity nodded.

'Thank you.' She mouthed.

Lokte gave her a small smile.

'Anytime.' They mouthed back, turning on the car and pulling away.

When Amity went back inside, she crawled back into Luz's arms, squeezing her close. Tomorrow, she would have to talk with Luz about what she had learned, but tonight?

Tonight Amity buried her head deep into Luz's shoulder, her anger draining rapidly under her girlfriend's warmth.

Regardless of how Luz was always somehow able to relax her, Amity laid there wide awake. Wishing she could do something, anything, to somehow fix the years of emotional abuse Luz had suffered.

All she could do however was hold Luz closer and wait until morning...

[juno-of-the-sky]

mystical / koutarou bokuto

every night, you come to the forest to practice violin. tonight, bokuto happens to be there.

tags: violinist reader, gender-neutral reader

word count: 1,706k

a/n: hope you like this one! this was my first time writing bokuto that wasn’t extremely self indulgent (although it kind of was with the violin) so he might be a little out of character sorry!! i am actually a violinist myself so like,, if you ever wanna talk about violin my ask box is always open teehee

Bokuto had a habit of finding himself in forests in the early hours of the morning.

Mostly, he liked the atmosphere — he had told this to Akaashi once, but he couldn’t understand his response because he started rambling quietly about nature being one of his biggest inspirations, the importance of being somewhere with a good atmosphere, more art student-esque lingo.

Akaashi had actually pointed out this particular forest to him once — a dismissive, “Pretty trees,” and then the continuation of walking. Something about that forest had caught Bokuto’s attention, so, at a time he was definitely supposed to be asleep, he climbed out of his bedroom window armed with a flashlight and planned to find a nice tree.

He found something much, much more beautiful.

At first, the violin music coming from a few feet away startled him. He was considering running off like this was a horror movie, but something drew him to it — so he navigated through the brush until he finally came across you.

You were dressed in a black hoodie, the hood pulled over your face so you weren’t visible, but that didn’t matter to Bokuto — he knew that you had to be gorgeous. How else would you make this beautiful music flowing into the air from the violin you held against your jaw? You were turned toward a stream, playing a concerto from memory — you had been practicing it for so long that your fingers hit the proper fingerings just as easy as breathing or eating. He was utterly entranced and engaged in your performance, despite the fact you didn’t even notice he was there. It wasn’t until you stopped abruptly and he impulsively started clapping that you whipped around and screamed, your bow falling to your side.

“Oh — I’m sorry!” Bokuto said immediately, starting to feel guilty about scaring you. “I didn’t mean to shock you!” Oh my God.

You recognized his face, and somehow that was the most horrible feeling in the world. You’d seen this boy before, at school; you’d never been more thankful to be wearing a mask that probably made you unidentifiable.

“I—It’s fine,” You managed to say, still recovering from your stomach falling to your feet. “H—How long have you been here?” He tapped his foot against the grass as he looked up at the trees, pondering this. “Um… good question! Maybe three minutes?” “Oh.” So he hadn’t been watching your whole performance. That was good — if he’d watched the entire thing, you’d think you would just keel over and die right there on the grass. This was humiliating, having this cute boy you knew from school discover you practicing violin in the forest at 2 AM like some kind of horror movie antagonist. Even as you stood there, violin at your sides, you felt your face start to burn up.

“You’re so good at violin!” Bokuto gushed, not helping your rapidly rising temperature. “I felt like you were putting some sort of spell on me; it was incredible!” “Aw, you’re too sweet,” and it was true because you weren’t that good at violin. You’d only started a year ago, and despite your teacher telling you that you were a natural, you never believed her. “I just have a lot of motivation to do this,” You’d respond quietly most of the time to compliments. In truth, you didn’t like to take compliments. It made you feel vain — but he looked like the type to cry if you didn’t take his flattery, so you just smiled underneath the mask.

You glanced down at your wrist — it was getting late. Even though it was Friday, you still needed to sleep.

“I should go,” You murmured. “Um… thanks for sticking around.”

You elbowed past him. As you went, he called out, “I’m Bokuto!” “It’s good to meet you, Bokuto.” And you couldn’t see it, but he beamed. It’s a shame he was so caught up in his own wonder that he forgot to ask you your name.

The next night, Saturday, Bokuto waited for what seemed like forever until you finally came through the brush, your violin case in your right hand and phone on its flashlight in your left. Usually, you came to practice in the dark, but something tonight told you to bring a light.

His excitable face being the first thing you saw when you laid the bright light on the grove made you scream and stumble backward.

“I’m sorry!” He was above you in a second, holding out his hand to help you up. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“It’s fine,” You choked out, getting deja vu from this whole situation. “Um… did you come to...?” “I came to watch you again. I couldn’t get that out of my head all day!”

Your face heated up again and stayed that way as you tuned your instrument and played a quick chord. The sound, bright and pure, echoed throughout the grove. Perfect.

As you began to string away mindlessly, Bokuto asked, “How long have you been doing this?” “Violin for about a year,” You responded. “Practicing here… also about a year.” “It’s almost mystical here! You’re like some kind of forest spirit.”

You couldn’t help a smile — you enchanted him so much, and you didn’t know why, but it was endearing. You didn’t think of yourself as anyone extraordinary; he was probably halfway convinced you were some river deity.

You finished the song, your mind still somewhere else, and put your violin down as Bokuto clapped excitedly, a one-man audience. “That was amazing!” “Haha… thanks.” And for the first time, you didn’t feel so reluctant to take his compliments.

Bokuto kept coming; night after night, you’d go to the grove with your violin to find the gray-haired boy sitting on the ground waiting patiently. You’d make small talk while you tuned and then play something— sometimes it was new, sometimes it was something he’d already heard. But he never got tired of hearing that bow drag across the strings.

On the third night of the third month of doing this, as you tuned your violin strings, Bokuto asked a different question. Usually, he just asked you about the activities of the day, or you let him talk about something that happened at volleyball or something Akaashi did— but tonight, he seemed more interested.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Bokuto asked suddenly. You paused— you had never told him your name, had you?

After a bit of silence, you reluctantly responded, “(Y/N).” “I like your name! It suits you.” Bokuto’s compliment made your cheeks heat up— with delight or embarrassment, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you liked Bokuto. You liked his presence; you liked talking to him, no matter how childish he could be somehow; most of all, you liked when he watched you play the violin with his glittering eyes. You liked him a lot.

“Thanks,” You murmured. “I like your name, too.” “Thanks!”

The next night, Bokuto asked you what you looked like.

“I…” was your flushed, stuttery response. He wanted to know what you looked like? But wouldn’t he recognize you from school? Somehow, that was your worst nightmare. “Um, I look okay, I guess.”

“How long is your hair?” Tripping over your words, you managed to whisper your hair length and color to him. He nodded like it was a profound secret, saying, “Mhm!”

You were about to say something new when he said, “Can I see?” “What?!” “I wanna see your face,” He said with an innocent beam. “I’m sure you’re perfect!” “Oh, trust me, you don’t want to—” “But I do!” His voice was pouty now, and it made your heart thump against your chest so hard you almost worried he would be able to hear it. Should you do it?

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about here,” You demanded, pointing a finger at him. “If you do, I’ll never come back.” Bokuto held out his pinky at you, a gesture you realized much too late that he was making a pinky promise. How long had it been since you’d made a pinky promise? Regardless, you hooked your pinky on his and squeezed. It was set in stone, at least if you still followed the rules of an elementary school.

Shyly, you hooked your left hand on the top of your mask and your right on your hood and pulled them down simultaneously.

Bokuto gasped— a gesture which you just took as a compliment, but then he flapped his hands and said, “I recognize you!” Your heart sank straight down to your shoes. “R—Really?” “I knew I knew someone named (Y/N)! I’ve seen you watching practice sometimes!” It was true that, over the past few weeks, you’d sneak to his volleyball practice once or twice a week and watch the practice going on with your homework binder open next to you. It was funny how Bokuto thought you were mesmerizing when he could just… play like that. You could never take your eyes off his hands— each day, you ended with homework hardly touched and heart swelling times a million. You liked watching him.

“I guess I kinda…” You admitted shyly, tugging on a strand of your hair that was exactly how you described it to him. “Came to watch you practice…”

“I’m honored,” Bokuto said with starry eyes, and you felt like he actually meant it. “Honored that such a lovely person would take the time to watch me!” “To you just the same,” You giggled. “Honestly, you don’t know how much I’ve looked forward to playing violin for you.”

He sat down on the grass, making you feel the need to follow. The next thing you knew, your hands were linked together. Your hand fit against his perfectly, almost like your palms were molded to fit flawlessly together. Nobody had ever held your hand like this… you weren’t about to complain.

“Maybe we can skip out on violin for tonight,” You whispered, a suggestion you never thought you would say. “This is… kind of nice.” Bokuto’s response was immediate— to pull you against his chest. It made your eyes widen, but… you liked it. 

He didn’t say anything, but you figured that he was perfectly content to follow your suggestion and hold you in this strangely mystical forest until the moon sank low under the trees and the dawn was there again.

have something you’d like to see me write? send me a request!

[sunseteyes]

FLUFFVEMBER DAY 11: NATSUO TODOROKI

promp: meet-cute (prompts are by @jojosmilktea)

unedited | word count: 983 words | themes: gen!reader. pure fluff

rv: this is unedited because there’s a storm rn and god any second now our electricity and wifi will go away. this is on queue btw so i hope ot posted. so yep. anyway, this is so cute but wait until tamaki’s (^u^)

✒︎ our love story

"(y/n)! (y/n)!"

your head whips to the two children who were already clinging by your legs, making you bend down to offer them a bit of a distance for a conversation whilst offering them one of your most beautiful smiles.

"yes, what is it?" you cooed unconsciously as how you would to any other child, their eyes giving you an impression of a feeling that you couldn't really explain inside of your chest.

"nejire-neesan said you're good at telling stories! will you tell us one, please!"

"i want a love story! tell us a love story, (y/n)!" the voices they used were not much far behind from yours, pleading for a responsibility that nejire surely had passed onto you when she had the chance to. glancing over to the sides where the girl merely flashed you a smile and a wave of her hand, you sighed and crouched down.

"well, i haven't got that much but i'll try!" you say and just when you were beginning to feel relieved with the happy faces in the two children's faces, your heart sank when they suddenly made an announcement.

"hey everyone! (y/n) is telling a story!" one of them shouts and all of a sudden, a flock of five year olds are already in front of you, sitting on the floor attentively as you stood in complete shock at how the attention instantly shifts to yours in a matter of seconds.

you turned to look at nejire, tamaki and mirio but they only gave you a grin, silence, and thumbs up respectively, glad that the responsibility was taken off of their shoulders—and now, the stage is all yours.

clearing your throat, you frantically took a sight, slightly fidgeting at the way you were losing any ideas to say in front of the children.

i mean, what could possibly-

your mind echoed of the voice of the child from earlier once you’ve set eyes on the girl, her orbs twinkling in delight and hope of a story that could awaken the romance in her very young heart.

and alas, you now know what you’d tell.

your lips curling up, you began, “does anyone want to hear my love story?”

it was not as if the fact that the pro hero endeavor's son is one of the students in your college is a secret. actually, most already knows who natsuo todoroki is and there will always be flocks of students who gush over him because well, he is cute.

you never really met him face to face. after all, you are always in another building and you just often see him in his social media where your friends often stalk on.

aside from that, you were particularly not that interested in him.

i mean, why do they make a fuss over him anyway? just because he's a pro hero's son doesn't mean he's supposed to get this much attention. plus, does he even want it? because honestly speaking, if you were in his case, you would rather be famous for something that is done by your effort not because of your parents'.

your hand raised to the doorknob of the classroom and your ears were filled by the muffled noises inside, your new classmates surely having a time of their own despite this day being the first day of classes in the university for the whole school year.

turning the knob, you swung the door open and instead of seeing the space of the entrance your way was blocked by a figure you certainly have not seen before.

“excuse-“

“hey there!”

it was the way his voice spiked up that made you look, eyes meeting his own. and that’s the moment you realized that you were standing in front of natsuo todoroki

the natsuo todoroki.

“good morning, it’s nice to meet you!” he smiles boyishly, as if trying to impress you with that slight perk of a corner of his lip than the other side. from where you were standing on, you could certainly feel the charisma oozing out of his presence alone.

“hey,” you say, rather unenthusiastically. “yeah, nice to meet you too.”

basing on his reaction and his history, you could easily tell that he was not used to your response. passing by him, you ignored the way some of your classmates saw the scene, especially the ones who were near the door. but nonetheless, it was not as if it was such big of a deal.

was it?

shrugging the thought off, the memory slowly drifts off of your mind as soon as the day passed by. but unlike you, it was not the same for natsuo todoroki.

“but how did you know?” one of the children’s little voice beam, catching you and thre others’ attention just as soon as the question was raised.

you were about the answer, but before you could, another voice overpowers your own.

“because i told it to them.”

the children’s heads perk up at the new, yet familiar voice, whipping their attention to the person at by the doorframe, his tall figure and presence unable to be mistaken by anyone, including the little kids.

“natsuo!”

“hey guys it’s natsuo!”

“todoroki-san!”

a gentle smile and look smooths is way unconsciously towards your face as you watched how the toddlers interacted with the newly-arrived man, who apparently was one of the main characters in your rather short story. but as your eyes made contact with his, it was like your heart leaped in joy, much different from how you’ve met before.

certainly, there was a change in how you treated him over the years, especially when you realized you were starting to have feelings for the said man. but like others say, it didn’t matter how it all started.

it was how you end it. and for now, you want it to end like this; happy, contented—with him.

rv: i’m so sorry i was panicking last night that i didn’t got to edit this. anyway just wanna say that tamaki’s fluffvember is connected to this so.... yall better look forward to that.

[rohondra]

Firsts || Izuku Midoriya

a/n: this is for another bnharem discord collab!! the prompt was “Pen Pals”. I’m pretty content with how this came out and I’m super excited to write a bit more considering I got a computer!! I’m hoping to do a pt2 hehe. god bless the people in my haikyuu server who swooped in and saved the day every time I had a brain far. 

rating: n*fw 18+

word count: just over 2k

warnings: virgin!Reader, daddy kink yes again ok I have a problem, FaceTime sex, mutual masturbation, big buff Izuku

all characters are aged up when I write and I take no credit for the images I post w said writings unless stated otherwise.

PLEASE CHECK OUT EVERYONES AMAZING FICS FOR THIS COLLAB!!!

A notification from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Field Office Discord server you were a part of popped up on your phone. It was an announcement that they would be randomly selecting pen pals as an event to get people more connected during this pandemic, of course you had the option to opt out, but the idea of doing something so “risky” excited you. You held your breath and reacted with a thumbs up, butterflies instantly flooding your stomach.

Just under an hour later one of the admins sent you a pm;

-Hey! Thanks so much for joining our penpals event. Social distancing is a pain in the ass, but hopefully this will lighten your spirits! We paired you with @/izuku#2485. Xx

Being the nosy son of a bitch you were, you immediately typed his user into the server and checked his activity within it- specifically the “#pictures” channel, but found nothing. Just as you were about to send him a friend request, you got a notification of another pm.. Oddly enough from him;

-Hi, we got paired for the penpal event! It’s okay if you don’t want to send your address to a complete stranger, I get it haha.

The butterflies returned as you pressed the request button, and immediately saw it change from “pending” to “send message”.

~Hi! If I’m honest it’s just my college address lol, nothing too risky.

-College huh? Me too. I was afraid you were going to end up being a minor and then I’d feel kind of weird ha. What school?

~Do not fear, I am in fact legal. Even if it is by 8 months lol. ASU! Yourself?

-Arizona huh? Interesting, I’m actually finishing my senior year at Iowa State.

Your stomach flipped, anxiety coursing through your veins at the last message. Senior?! What if this guy was like, 40?? No, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be living on campus at that age.. But he never specified he was living in a dorm. You closed Discord and moved onto what seemed to be the never ending flood of assignments, two of which were due that night.

A notification popped up on your computer mid essay;

-Don’t wanna be pushy. Here’s my address if you decide to write me.(:

You chewed at your bottom lip, weighing the consequences. It couldn’t be that bad of an idea right? He seemed nice, not pervy at all.. Fuck it.

“Hello! It’s your good old pal from the Marvel server. If I'm honest I'm not that good at these things, haha. This letter will be pretty short, but tell me- who’s your favorite Marvel character? Feel free to gush! I’m looking forward to hearing back from you.

From,

Y/N”

-

Two weeks later your RA slipped the envelope under your door, “MAIL!!!” she yelled before hurrying to the next room to deliver. Your heart fluttered as you opened it, admiring his clean handwriting;

“Hi. Alls good, I’m pretty awkward myself ha. My name is Izuku Midoriya! My friends call me Deku. Y/N is a nice name.

Honestly, it’s kind of cliche but Captain America has to be my favorite. I’m a bit of a Marvel junkie. I’ve seen every movie, have the entire Captain America comic series, own a Marvel Encyclopedia, plus almost every Marvel funko pop they’ve released.. Now that I think of it I’m definitely more than “a bit” obsessed ha. How about you? If it’s easier for you, you could just message me on discord.

-Izuku”

You giggled as you opened the app on your phone.

~Hi! I just got your letter. Seems to me you’re DEFINITELY obsessed lol but that’s okay, me too. I’m obsessed with Captain America. Chris Evans? *cheff kiss*”

-Hey. That’s so funny! I aspire to look like him one day haha. Taking it one day at a time, but this pandemic is making it difficult rip. You wanna add me on snapchat? I probably came off as some creepy perv ha. @/deku_zuku.”

From that point on, you two became OBSESSED with each other. Deku was an extremely gorgeous, freckled man with colored, fluffy green hair. You thought your sleep schedule was already fucked because of the pandemic? Sike, now it really was. You were staying up until 5am snapchatting him, interacting with him on discord, texting him, etc. You just couldn’t get enough of each other.

Your favorite snapchats from him were his post workout selfies. You loved the way his skin glistened, his muscular body littered in scars and freckles. More often than not you screenshot them and definitely got off to them, but you could never tell him that. It was embarassing to think about how most nights you laid in bed pumping a dildo inside of yourself desperately calling his name, imagining it was him fucking your tight virgin pussy.

As you were getting lost in imagining scenarios your phone began ringing, oh fuck he was FaceTimeing you.

You quickly sat up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and setting your phone against a book for support before answering.

“H-hi! Sorry I wasn’t expecting you to FaceTime me ha.”

Izuku grinned ear to ear, “No I’m sorry! I should’ve asked first, but you look great so I mean.. No complaints from me with how you look.”

Red tinted your cheeks, “A-ah thank you. You’re pretty good looking yourself.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, “Did I catch you at uh- a bad time?”

You tilted your head in confusion, “No? I mean I was trying to catch up on some stuff but other than I wasn’t doing anything important.”

“Ha, that looks pretty important. You also look a little flushed.”

When your eyes followed his on your screen your cheeks immediately lit on fire and you shifted to cover the dildo you carelessly left on the parallel night stand.

“So that’s why you’ve been screenshotting my pictures huh? I never would’ve taken Y/n to be such a slut.” he smirked.

He could feel his cock begin weep at the sight, he couldn’t help but palm himself. What if you got off to him? Thinking about how your little moans might sound when they slip out of your mouth made his cock pulse, he wanted to make you moan. He wanted to be the reason you came undone.

You tried to defend yourself, slightly annoyed by the derogatory term he referred to you as, “I- no. It isn’t like th-”

He cut you off, his voice having dropped an octave, “It’s okay baby, tell me what you think about.. I wanna hear what gets you off with those pictures.”

Hands came up to cover your face, you felt like you were going to puke- this was too embarrassing. His screen went to “paused” and you heard shuffling from his end. Within seconds you received a picture of Izuku in the mirror, his large hand barely covering his erect penis and his shirt between his teeth. He chuckled, “How about now princess? What makes that pretty pussy tighten around your toy?”

Slick slipped from your previously abused cunt, he sounded so delicious and looked even more delicious. When you spoke, your voice came out as a squeak, “I-I uh, I can’t tell you! It’s embarrassing.” If you could light on fire, it would’ve already happened. In fact, you wish you could. If you’re lucky the entire dorm might catch ablaze as well so all evidence is ruined.

A deep chuckle echoed from your phone speaker, “Embarrassed? It’s not like you’re a blushing virgin baby.”

There was a pause as you lowered your hands, your nose scrunched from the humility and one eye shut, “.. And if I told you I was?”

Izuku felt his member pulse yet again, precum gliding from his slit. That almost sent him over the edge, there was no way someone as breathtaking as you hadn’t been with anyone. Fuck, he could take your innocence and ruin you for any other man. He could make you his own and have you milking his thick cock every night, screaming his name and begging for more.

A meak sigh pulled him from his fantasies as you spoke up, “Sorry if that makes me less appealing.” He was quick to follow up, “N-no. God no. That,” he sighed,” fuck that’s honestly hot.”

Boldness coursed through him as his hand lazily pumped his shaft, “That just means I can be all your firsts.. Here, give me a minute.”

Your heart sank for a minute when the FaceTime ended, but fluttered once again when another call from him came through. This time though, it was from his laptop. He smirked before rolling back in his computer chair, his cock twitching against his stomach anxious for attention.

Desire burnt within him at the sight of you, eyebrows raised and eyes enlarged with pupils blown while you licked your lips. Izuku couldn’t help as his hand encircled his shaft once again, “What is it you think about baby? Me kissing and licking all over your body? My fingers pumping in and out of you while my tongue plays with your nipple?” He began a generous pace of pumping himself before his next taunt, “Maybe my tongue playing with your clit?”

A soft moan fell from your lips as you nodded, “A-all of that. ‘Zuku c-can I please touch myself?” You gasped as you watched precum flow from his tip at your words. He nodded, “Please do.”

You sat back, lifting your hips just enough to slip your panties off, nervously looking at him. All caution was thrown to the wind when Izuku groaned, “Ah, be a good girl for me baby.”

You made sure your full body was in view before grabbing the toy and lowering it between your thighs, which were now covered in a thin layer of your arousal. Squeezing your eyes shut you opened your legs and gently pushed until the dildo was fully sheathed inside of you.

Opening your eyes you were greeted with the most sinful sight, Izuku Midoriya quickly gliding his hand up and down his cock with his chest heaving, his body sheen with sweat.  You let a high pitched moan, your name resonating slowly from his chest. With every thrust your wrist made, a coil began to form inside your belly, it all seemed so familiar but was far more exhilarating knowing that someone else was watching.

“Just think about when that’ll be my cock splitting you in half. Shit- close your eyes for me, start playing with your clit and imagine it's me.” You nodded in response, unable to form words.

Obeying his command, it felt like electricity struck you when your finger made contact. The coil was now fully formed and threatened to burst with every movement.

“I need to cum, p-please.”

“Yeah? Only if you beg for daddy to let you.” He smirked as he watched your thighs tense for a moment.

“A-ah.. please! Please let me finish. Please d-daddy, need to so bad.”

Izuku felt his orgasm quickly approaching with each shaky word spilling from your beautiful lips, “Yeah baby, you can cum now. Let me see the pretty faces you make.”

SNAP

You were gone, your body lost to the ocean of ecstacy ripping through you as you rode the waves of your release.

He sat forward, studying the way your face contorted and how your cunt sucked the toy in as far as possible. The thought of you milking the absolute hell out of his cock sent him over the edge, head thrown back with spurts of cum covering his beautifully toned chest and stomach.

Eyes twitched trying to focus from the intensity of your orgasm as you came down from euphoria.

As Izuku  began cleaning himself off he spoke up, “So you’ve genuinely never done that kind of stuff before?” You shook your head before sitting up to sling a large t-shirt over your body, “Nope, when I said I was a virgin I mean like V I R G I N.”

He shook his head and chuckled, “Crazy. I have some assignments I need to do, if you want you could keep me company?”

You pulled a pillow under your chin and hugged it.  “I have some work to do too, so I guess that’ll work.” You giggled. He twirled a pen between his fingers before bringing it up to chew on, “And once we call it quits for the evening, how about we check off some more ‘firsts’ for you?”

[todoscript]

Corps-à-Corps [ 1 ]

Parts | one ; two

Corps-à-Corps (“body-to-body”): the action of two fencers coming into bodily contact with each other that is deemed an illegal move 

Genre | Sports AU. Slow Burn. Angst. Fluff. Future Smut.

Pairing | Fencer!Todoroki Shouto x Fencer!Reader

Words | 10.7K+

Warnings | Pining. Mild cursing. Characters are aged up. Insecurities and expectations. Research was done in order to accurately convey the action of the sport in this fic as I am not a fencer. Whole fic will be two parts.

Author’s Notes | Oh wow, 10k words. I was debating whether or not to just write the entire story in one go and post everything together, but at the speed I’m going, along with my assignments harassing me in the background, I decided to upload as a two-shot. Also please read the ending author’s notes when you’re done!

Also a special thank you to @sadistiks​ @natsuosfairy​ and @pat-writes-stuff​ for being my beta readers! <3

The thought of being late to your very first practice at the fencing academy you’ve admitted to is nothing short of an insult to your former coach, who was the one who recommended you in the first place.

You tell yourself this, yet here you are, running as if your life depends on it. Ragged breaths are ripping from your throat, accompanied by the slick sweat dotting the skin of your temples and a pair of lungs positively burning through every arduous step you compel yourself to tussle through.

“Dammit, why’d I have to be late today?!” you groan through gritted teeth, glancing at the map in your hand to verify the correct path forward to the Tokyo Fencing Center. As you clutch the strap of the duffel bag hanging off your shoulder, you seethe over your lack of time management skills, knowing full well you can’t blame anyone for this disorganization but yourself.

You persevere through, despite the dizzying heat flushing your skin and the fatigue piling in your body, awarded with the fencing center coming into view. You grant yourself only a second of rest before you’re rushing forward again. If you were a track athlete, then this would be the last hurdle.

Finally, with a fierce slam open of the double doors enclosing the facility, you’ve crossed the finish line. The relieved heave of your breaths practically topple you over in exhaustion but you regain your balance by adjusting yourself next to a wall. Little do you know there was still another impediment you needed to face.

The noises that lightly ring and echo throughout the hallway emit down from the main room, indicating to you that you’re definitely past due punctual. Steps heavy and hesitant, you cross into the threshold. Everyone has already clad themselves in their fencing gear, scattering into their respected fencing disciplines to practice amongst each other. You’re left standing there in high contrast compared to the white uniforms dispersed in the room. At this point, you just hope to speak to the primary instructor without disturbing the vibe.

However, your goal is cut short by a quick thrust of a saber. Your eyes view over and behold the fencing match before you, where two combatants ready their blades on opposite sides of the piste—the extended playing area the game takes place on. Their bodies are encased in the standard protective gear, faces obscured by the dense masks covering their heads to the napes of their necks.

“En-garde... Prêtz?” The referee utters two distinct French words before starting the bout—one meaning “on guard,” the other “ready.” Each participant raises their weapons in preparation.

“Allez!”

At the signal, their movements advance into nearly triple time, feet light and flexible as their steps shift across the mat. You’re familiar with this particular fencing discipline known as saber fencing. It’s fast; in fact, it’s the second-fastest sport at the Olympics after rifle shooting. The aim of the game, of course, is to hit your opponent anywhere from the waist up with your sword. It may seem simple enough, but there’s another layer of complication factoring in the game’s speed, for this sport is calculated in as little time as milliseconds.

The fencer on the left side of the piste lunges forward, attempting to draw the momentum. Sadly, it’s a sloppy pursuit; his form is unstable and his efforts are in vain due to a missed strike. He swiftly backs up.

At this error, the opposition takes the reins and progresses forward, forcing his competitor back and back across the mat from his utter retaliation. In an instant, he spots a chance to win priority by taking over the impetus of the battle, and makes no hesitation in slashing with his weapon. Every movement he commits to is as swift as wisps of fire in the wind and burns nearly as fast. His opponent tries following the hit out of sheer panic. In the end, the exchange of strikes is so quick that even a simple blink could deter you from the actions at hand.

The two attacks make simultaneous contact on their lamé—the electric conductive jacket hugging their upper bodies—causing the machine in front of the referee to glow two colors. Left is indicated by red, green for right. If both colors concurrently light up, it’s the referee’s position to decide who earns the point.

Though the battle proved to be hasty and expeditious, you managed to observe every detail as keenly possible. From your basic understanding of the rules of saber fencing, the point should belong to—

“Right,” the referee promptly states, his arm lifted toward the corresponding side. By controlling the initiative of the fight, the right-sided fencer gains priority, meaning he’ll receive the point even if both players hit. The moment his competitor had made a mistake, the opposition had the right to steal the momentum along with priority.

The gush of air that heavily tightens your lungs eventually releases into a breath you hadn’t realized you’ve been holding in the spur of the match. The complication, as well as the speed of saber fencing, has always made you appreciate the aspect of the game, despite how different it was from your own fencing discipline.  

“And so the victor of this match is Todoroki,” the referee congratulates as everyone around sounds with applause, at which you can’t help but join in. The triumphant fencer brings his blade down by his side before running a hand over his mask to reveal himself.

You glimpse at a head of white and red tresses that flair elegantly upon layers, sticking to the sweat glistening across his forehead. His pretty heterochromatic eyes gleam at his victory, and exuding nothing but effortless confidence, he stands tall above the crowd. However, there’s frigidity in his expression, an underlying cold beneath frosty irises of turquoise and gray that’s difficult to comprehend.

Movements like fire. Spirit like ice. And together, they collide into an enigma that rattles your thoughts in that infinitesimal moment.

Staring at his form, you can’t help but compare this scene to a shot right from a movie, what with the man’s handsome looks, glowing charisma, and athletic ability. He’d definitely make for a killer male lead—

“Ahem.”

The panorama view is pressed on pause when you hear an abrupt clear of someone’s throat in your direction. The referee greets you, a slender man possessing messy, shoulder-length hair and an unusually worn-out appearance despite his young age.

“Can I help you, miss?”

Everyone’s actions are on hold after the match. They peep over to the commotion surrounding you and their instructor, exchanging choruses of whispers and curious looks. You can’t suppress the urge to cross your arms and nervously rub your skin over the uncomfortable amount of eyes boring into you. After all, it doesn’t take a detective to comprehend how you stick out like a sore thumb in this sea of white.

“Oh, um, I’m a newly admitted fencer… My coach recommended me, and I’m here to attend my first practice,” you manage despite an embarrassing red creeping up your cheeks. The only physical bearings you can hold onto is the strap of your duffle bag, which you grip firmly in hopes of not potentially floating away like a hot air balloon. Though at the same time, you’d also wouldn’t mind drifting off, or perhaps even bury yourself into solid ground if it meant escaping the stares.

While exhaling an arduous sigh, the man’s flat and tired eyes sink into your existence. You honestly can’t tell if he’s annoyed with you or perhaps just having an exhausting day. Maybe it’s both. In that case, you might be fucked.

“Well, you’re about twenty minutes late and not dressed in fencing gear. Though I suppose explanations are long overdue,” says the instructor, adding more heat to the squealing teakettle that is your mortification, “Your name?”

“L-L/n Y/n,” you reply. Let’s hope he’s not asking for it to kick you out of the academy.

“L/n Y/n...” He flips through a page, scanning the contents, “You’re an… épée fencer?”

“Yes, sir.”

As the man continues looking over his clipboard, you notice blue and gray eyes peering right from behind him. Your face lights up, perceiving them to belong to the saber fencer—Todoroki—from the earlier match, and your eyes are drawn to his as if they’re glaciers glimmering in the moonlight. The boy, however, averts his gaze the moment the two of you make brief eye contact. He returns to the mat and brandishes his blade for another bout.

“L/n if you want to stay here,” the instructor’s voice nudges your attention back to him, “I suggest you go get changed in your fencing gear. And quickly. I have an assignment for you.”

Your only reply is a prompt “yes sir” before you hurry to the locker rooms, bag smacking against your side at every step as if it’s physically reprimanding you for getting in such an unpleasant predicament. All you give it is a violent throw into a locker. Your hands rummage inside, hastily scouring for your gear to don on.

The thin clothes you’re currently wearing allow you to slip your long fencing socks over them, along with white trousers that hang onto your form thanks to two straps hooked over your shoulders. Next comes the safeguard for the upper body—a plastic chest protector first, followed by the plastron or the underarm protector. Finally, a white jacket sports over all the upper layers. Everything afterward is self-explanatory, what with only the gloves and shoes left. You won’t need the mask until later, so you grip it next to your hip, leaving the locker room with haste.

By then, everyone resumed their usual business for today’s practice. The swoosh of blades accompany you when you return to the training hall, sights set back on the shaggy-haired man standing on the side waiting for you. His wary expression is a chasm you can’t correctly discern.

“Though you’re not punctual, you dress fast at least,” he says just as you approach, “Now if you want to secure your spot here, there’s something you need to do.” You follow him to a piste occupied by only one other fencer. Assuming the player is also an épée fencer like yourself, you can guess what this “assignment” consists of now.

“If you’re going to be training here, I need to evaluate your skills and see where you currently stand,” he declares and hands you the corresponding weapon to your discipline: The épée, the largest and heaviest sword used in fencing. Compared to foil fencing, it dons a larger guard and is broader and thicker. But unlike saber, which has more slashing in play, this weapon is designated for thrusting.

“So I’m having you perform in a small, quick match right now. I’m only giving you one chance to prove you should stay here and train amongst us, so I suggest you play to the best of your ability.”

You nod, enthusiastic, and ready for the bout. Your opponent wordlessly walks off to the opposite end of the piste, their épée blade prepped at their side while you do the same, also wearing your protective headgear. Due to their dense mask, you can’t distinguish any prominent features or emotions on your contender, but you’re sure the sensations crossing their body are parallel to your own.

“En-garde.”

Inhale and exhale. Your even breaths lull your nerves, and every hindrance you faced today is buried in the back crevice of your mind. Right now, you focus your energy and spirit into this small match, let yourself envelope the vitality of fencing that drives your movements.

“Prêtz?”

Your knees are bent, steps light on your toes while your grip remains steady on the handle of the épée, the shine glossed from the hilt to the tip of the blade points you toward a new adversary standing in your way.

“Allez!”

Even with the signal, the small spring in your step ushers you only a bit forward. Unlike saber fencing, the pace is quite different. Whereas saber is fast and flashy all within as little as a speck of a second, épée is methodical, slow, and plays defensively. For in épée, any part of your body can register as a point. So the discipline focuses on maneuvering cautiously to protect yourself, being wary of your stance, as well as deflecting and parrying attacks.

Saber fencing is equivalent to a real-life scenario. If two people are equipped with knives and face off to see who wins, then the one who makes the quickest move and cuts down their opponent first is victorious. They don’t just trade blows with each other; they go in for the kill. It’s basic survivability. Meanwhile, épée fencing is reminiscent of a duel—a show. The competitors give the crowd a performance to enjoy, watching through every meticulous move and observing their blades clash in a struggle. Similar to the exaggerated fight choreographies seen in action movies and animation.

Every step an épée fencer performs is calculated and strategized in their heads because there are so many vulnerable factors an opponent can exploit. Knowing any part of your body is a target for your opponent’s blade, the most sure-fire way to avoid receiving a hit is to take extra precaution in your form while monitoring the enemy’s.

You regard every movement, every muscle, your competitor makes, indicating how fast or slow they shift when not attacking. Suddenly, the opposition proceeds forward, easing slightly into your range. You grapple yourself, ready for the fencer as they swiftly advance at a possible opening, their épée is thrust in an unyielding path to take you down. However, you foresee the hit, bringing your blade up to parry the attack. When the metal swords collide, you detect a break in your opponent’s defenses and launch your counterattack known as riposte—the offensive action carried after a clean parry.

The point of your blade hits home against the fencer’s chest. With the electric conductive lamé pierced, a high-pitched squeal rings in the air—a distinct indication that you have rightfully gained the point in the bout, winning the short test match.

Typically, a regular bout would continue until one of the contenders reaches fifteen points, but in this case, the coach had already held his hand up to halt your actions only after one round. You remove your mask, vision adjusting to the light, and hearing faint sets of claps in the vicinity. Glancing around, a small ring of onlookers commend your swift demonstration. While it is not on par with the garish applause you witnessed earlier, you appreciate the praise with an elated grin lining your lips. Your eyes cross into the threshold and notice Todoroki sparing a brief glimpse over the laudation, but doesn’t pay much mind.

“Hm, at least your former coach didn’t make a mistake recommending you here. You’re not half bad. Could touch up your technique a bit more, but I suppose that’s what you’re at this academy for,” the coach calls out, but his tone quickly submerges into deep waters. Out of instinct, your back straightens when he nears.

“However, I don’t have time for slackers, and tardiness is not something I tolerate. Here at this fencing academy, we don’t waste our time dawdling. We get in, make the most of every minute, and get our jobs done. So I better not see you twenty minutes late again, understand?”

A creeping veil of severity slithers down your spine, jolting nerves in your body you had no idea existed. If you stared into the man’s eyes long enough, they might shift into a threatening hue of red that could swallow you whole. Your fear over that has you shaking your head up and down in rapid succession, and surprisingly, the oppressive atmosphere disperses instantly like smoke scattered by the wind.

“Good. With that said, I’ll be your coach, Aizawa Shouta.” His narrowed brows soften when he speaks, reverting to his downbeat appearance. “If you have any further questions, you can ask your fellow fencers. If not, then get to practice.”  

He walks off to inspect the other fencers on their progress, allowing you to conduct your business. However, before you can conjure any thoughts on how to proceed next, a hand finds its way into your peripheral vision. A girl with onyx black hair tied in a high ponytail comes in view, a singular thick lock framing the kind smile adorning her face.

“That was a great match, I enjoyed every bit participating in it, even though it was so short,” she says. It’s by her statement and when your eyes scan across her form briefly that you recognize her to be your opponent, now no longer concealed by head protection.

You take her hand, grip settling into a light shake while you return the smile cordially, “Ah same, I hope we can play a full bout in the future.”

“Agreed,” she giggles amicably, which you find soothing, “My name is Yaoyorozu Momo, and as you witnessed, I’m an épée fencer like yourself.”

“L/n Y/n, though just Y/n is fine.”

“Well, Y/n, that was quite an entrance in the beginning, coming in twenty minutes late to your first practice,” the girl teases, a playful hand over her lips that leave a pout on your own.

“Yeah, that was my fault…” you drawl, rubbing a hand over your head. Your eyes avert to the ceiling upon remembering the chagrin, “It’s an excuse, I know, but I lost track of time…”

“Haha, don’t worry. Coach Aizawa may seem like a hostile man, who arguably doesn’t get enough sleep, but I assure you he has his soft spots. You just have to get to know him a bit more.”

Your face droops, finding the claim hard to believe when testifying for the man’s daunting character that left your nerves shivering. At this point, all you need to do is not get on his bad side, and you’re good to go.

“Rather, if I did have to point anyone to look out for, it’d be fencers like him,” she gestures off to the side, your eyes following the movement. The person in query is a boy of slick, blonde hair whose lips draw into a smug grin that somehow irritates you enough for your face to gaunt.

“That’s Monoma Neito. Fencing is a chivalrous sport, but he’s as arrogant as they come, all talk and no action. However, his family funds and supports the academy, so he was offered a place here with little regard. Luckily he fences saber so we won’t be running into much of him anyway,” she describes a type you’re fairly familiar with. They’re the kind of people that throw their money at their problems, reaching undeserving plateaus thanks to their authority and status. It’s frustrating to think a prestigious sports academy can still be touched by people like him, considering the lengths ordinary folks like yourself need to extend to reach the same level. In this cruel world, some arrive at the top with a simple touch of a button on an elevator while the rest must burn and sweat and suffer to climb mountains that span the same peak.

Despite that, you’re glad this place still harbors some exceptional skills, judging by the abundant competence surrounding the room in the form of rigorous training and practice. You should join in the grind soon. However, your curiosity piqued at the last second as your eyes have subconsciously been trailing the saber fencers, seeking peculiar tresses of red and white. It’s not long until you spot him again—Todoroki. He’s stepped off to the side, relieving his thirst with water and wiping the lingering sweat dotting his face.

“Hey, Yaoyorozu,” you call, eyes unwavering, “can you tell me about that boy over there, Todoroki?”

She gives a mildly surprised look, “You don’t know who he is? I thought the last name would ring a bell, especially as a fencer.”

“Um, should I?” You raise an eyebrow. Even when you spare another glance at the boy, hoping your mind would jolt with a distant memory, nothing clicks. Only a blank greets you.

“That’s Todoroki Shouto, son of Todoroki Enji, who’s a former saber fencing Olympian. He’s one of the best fencers here. They say he rivals his father in skill and is aiming to participate for the next coming Olympics, but Todoroki doesn’t talk much about it,” she finally answers. Your gaze fills with intrigue, processing the information through a filter that quickly fathoms the different planes you and the boy of ice and fire live across. Little do you realize that your worlds will soon collide faster than sword to body, and mar just as bad.

.

.

It’s by the next practice at the Tokyo Fencing Center that you genuinely take Coach Aizawa’s words to heart and let it show in your actions by committing to managing your time that day. Even with university classes and studies before another rigorous training session, you arrive with no commotion, no irritating looks, and no sweat. One thing’s for sure, the coach won’t be biting your head off this time.

You start to consider the notion that you could potentially be the very first person here; if not for a sound you begin to discern louder and louder the more you walk down the hallway toward the training room. You surmise it’s too early for anyone to be here when practice does not officially start until two o’clock sharp. Lighting up your phone, it reads 1:40 PM, twenty minutes ahead of schedule.

A ghost? No, you don’t believe in such things. Unless it’s maybe Coach Aizawa’s exhausted spirit coming to punish you for last time? In that case, perhaps you should be more mindful of specters after all.

You decipher the noise as a swoosh carried by thin metal slicing across the air and resounding in swift successions. Your steps careful and silent, you enter the training hall to peek upon the lone entity. It’s there you spot a white figure, however it’s not a ghost. Instead, it’s a fencer. A saber fencer at that, and one whose form is in peak and perfect condition as they jut their blade out with such a keen technique, you’d want to capture the shot within a sculpture of ice to admire every angle. But, under every chain of moves is a fire that melts and burns the previous images’ glaciers.

Before your thoughts can catch up to you, the fencer stops and lowers his sword.

“Do you usually spy on people while they’re practicing?”

The figure evokes a husky voice from beneath the meshed mask. Had it not been only the two of you here, you might not have heard the muffled words that nearly have your feet stepping on top of each other from how sudden they resonate in the air. You gather yourself and find your balance. When your eyes reach the boy’s again, he’s already swung off his headgear, revealing his heterochromatic eyes peering at you. Todoroki waits silently, expecting an answer.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to gawk at you or anything,” you sputter while unable to look directly at him.

“You kept glancing at me the first day you came in for practice too,” he mentions, his voice relaxed despite the detail making you out to be some attentive fangirl, maybe even a stalker if you stretched it. Surprising to you, however, he furrows his brows.

“Did I do something to bother you?”

You swing your hands up fervently to deny the question and assure to him that was not the case.

“Oh no! I just, uh…” your splayed utters have you fumbling to reach for a response that won’t come off too garish for your standing, “I just… admire your fencing. Saber has always been a discipline that’s fascinated me, considering it’s so different from épée.”

“Right, you’re an épée fencer,” he says.

You nod genially, “Hehe, that’s correct. I’m L/n Y/n, by the way, the new girl, but you probably already knew that when the coach scolded me last week for coming in late,” you chuckled, offering a strained grin to lighten the dreadful memory.

Noticing he’s about to return the introductions, you stop him with a wave of your hand, “Don’t worry, I know who you are, Todoroki Shouto.”

He lifts a brow, and you have to giggle at the perplexed expression etched on his face when comparing it to the icy demeanor he usually sports on pause.

“I watched a bit of your match last week the moment I walked in,” you explain, “Plus, you’re quite the talk around here at the fencing academy.”

“Am I?” Todoroki questions, a hint of inquisitiveness edging the tip of his tongue.

“I thought you’d already be the one to know that. You’re the skilled saber fencer here,” you tease. “So do you usually come so early just to do warm-ups and swing your saber around by yourself?”

His eyes avert to the blade handled in his right hand, then return to you, “I follow a training routine. In the morning, I work out at a gym, and then I come here afterward.”

Your eyes blink twice, interpreting his words, “Wait, so you’ve been here since..?”

“1:00,” he finishes for you. Your mouth hangs open in an almost cartoonish manner.

“You seriously stayed here for a whole hour doing fencing drills before the actual fencing? And that’s after working out?” you relay the questions in a way that expresses the details to be appalling, yet he simply shrugs.

“Isn’t that a bit much? Don’t you want to hang out with people for a bit or relax somewhere else?”

He pauses for a minuscule moment, glancing at the saber’s shining edge that reflects the fraternal twins of his irises across the metal. It’s as if the sword imparts him with an answer to your query, which drops weight in his next statement.

“The way I see it, there’s not much time to waste if I’m going to go for the top. If I’m going to beat him, I need to keep up this momentum, or else I’ll stray off course.”

You stare, eyebrows knitted, and unable to recognize if the words coming from his lips are genuinely his own upon sensing the candle flicker of anguish lit behind his glacial facade. The heat threatens to melt it off at the emphasis of “him.” Whoever “him” is, you aren’t too sure. Unfortunately, Todoroki does not allow you to ponder any further.

“Sorry, but I have to get back to my training,” he says before turning his back to you. The proximity left behind stretches into a tension you know you shouldn’t trifle with, lest risk snapping a nerve that must be left untouched.

“Right, it’s almost 2:00, and I need to get changed anyway,” you offer back, though truthfully, it was a way to excuse yourself and not suffocate under the tense atmosphere.

By the time you’ve entered the locker room and gotten changed, the other fencers have trickled in along with Coach Aizawa. Practice proceeds as usual, and everyone scatters evenly into their disciplines. You train in sets of matches with the other épée fencers, going through the ropes and trying to polish your technique—advice given to you by Aizawa that you needed to improve on.

It’s by the third match that the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind start to surface and cloud your motions, evident when you teeter in your stance and receive a thrust right against your torso you surely would have dodged in time. That bout ends in your defeat. Continuing with practice like this won’t do, so you seize the loss as a sign to take a water break and settle the haze in your head.

“Got something on your mind, mademoiselle?” a voice chimes in, airy, flamboyant, and not a tone you recognize, “You’ve been staring at that bottle of water for an awfully long time.”

The boy that approaches the bench is slim, blonde, and possesses an aura, both foreign and confident. He draws attention to the scrunched bridge of your nose and the pointed crests furrowing your features that you fail to notice you’ve been harboring.

“Well, er,” you’re hesitant to admit it at first, but you relent with a nod.

“Would you like to talk about it with me? I am always willing to lend an ear to any of my fellow fencers.”

You don’t say anything, words trapped in your throat as if lost in an abyss. Instead, you answer with a small nudge in a general vicinity. The boy turns in that direction and bemuses that you’ve ushered his gaze to where all the saber fencers are practicing. There’s a twinkle glimmering in his eyes now, a look that sparks uncertainty for you.

“Ah, some boy trouble?” he inquires playfully. Grasping his words, you fluster and your cheeks color pink. You vigorously shake your head.

“N-No, it’s not like that!” you start, voice rising slightly in volume, “I’m just worried about… OK, this guy. He seems like he has no room to breathe, practicing all the time.”

“Ah, you must be speaking of Todoroki Shouto.” His finger points to him, and you observe Todoroki is diligent as ever during practice.

“You see it too, don’t you?”

The boy you’ve come to know as Aoyama Yuga exchanges an inquisitive look, “Well, I suppose I wouldn’t blame him for living like that, considering the situation he’s in.”

Your eyes perk up, puzzled by his statement as you spare a confused visage, “Huh? Why not?” you ask.

“His father may have been a renowned saber fencer, but he was only runner-up to Yagi Toshinori while they were in their prime. Ever since Toshinori started competing in fencing tournaments and competitions, Todoroki Enji has always placed second since,” he remarks, shifting his gaze back to the dual-haired boy while he tells the story. “People say the youngest of the family was trained to rectify that error.”

Now you’re able to put two and two together, joining the pieces to view the full picture.

You draw a memory in the long film of your life. It’s an old clip from the Olympics you watched when you were only a small child, and from it sparked your ambition to fence in the first place, watching the athletes display their skills and passion on the piste for the entire world to behold. Little did you realize that the men participating were rivals whose bitter strife exists even to this day in the form of Todoroki Shouto and his father’s will carved into him. The will to carry out a petty dream that is not even his own.

You fight against the notion, “But shouldn’t he think about himself rather than his father?”

Aoyama shrugs, “It’s up to him to decide how he creates his path. And if he chooses to walk on it, who are we to stop him?” is his response before walking off, finishing the chat, “Well, it was nice talking to you, mademoiselle, but I must be getting back to my practice. Au revoir~”

The conversation leaves an odd sensation in you that you can’t shake off, with remnants of Todoroki’s struggle swirling. As you glance toward the boy one last time that day, your heart aches for him.

.

.

It’s the weekend, and you’ve made some plans to stop by the mall and head to the sporting goods store to replace some of your fencing equipment. Lately, the sneakers you’ve been using have worn out, making it challenging to keep your feet light on the piste, so you thought it’d be about time to purchase some new ones and break them in before the next practice.

When you enter, you’re greeted by the usual cashier at the register, who doesn’t pay much mind to you coming in, his attention glued to a volleyball game playing on the television. You instinctively head to the fencing section of the store, located around the back area where equipment such as blades, safety gear, and other fencing goods are sprawled and laid around for the average consumer to gander.

You navigate through the aisles, but soon discover another patron in the distance, hovering around the section—which to you was strange. Fencing is a sport a majority of people have heard before; however, it isn’t a sport that generates as many fans as basketball or baseball. People who follow the game take the time to understand the swordplay and make a note of what happens during the action, as well as touch upon the complicated rules. An average sports fan would find it hard digesting the contents of fencing, with many regarding that the pacing and action is too monotonous for their liking. Plus, fencing does not harbor as many active players compared to other popular sports littered with sponsorships, so because of all that, this section of the store was usually vacant whenever you visited.

Approaching closer, you decipher the figure obscured by the rows of equipment and goods, and to your utter astonishment, tresses of red and white hair come into view.

Your first instinct is to duck and dodge between the rows, an act which you’ve been repetitively doing as of late. To run into Todoroki outside of fencing practice is appalling to you; though, it seems fitting that if he were not working out at a gym, training at the fencing center, or staying at home, he’d take root in the fencing section of a sports store.

Your head darts out. Man, what am I doing? You gingerly think, relaying to yourself that you’ve already been called out for spying on him the first time you’ve encountered each other. It’s better to act natural and not give the security cameras the wrong idea that you’re potentially stalking this boy.

You ease out from behind a rack of protective gear. Todoroki does not detect your presence in the slightest as his attention is on the variety of premium shoes lining the shelves. So when you suddenly tap your finger against his left shoulder, he turns in haste and is bewildered to be greeted by your stiff facade.

“Oh hey, Todoroki, didn’t expect to run into you here,” you wave, and his expression mellows upon perceiving that it’s you—the épée fencer he spoke with before.

“Likewise,” he replies, then rotates around again to scan through the shoes. Luckily for you (or perhaps unluckily), your reason for coming here is to get your sneakers replaced so you establish yourself next to him.

Todoroki starts a conversation, despite his quiet self, “What are you here for?” he asks.

“I need to get a new pair of shoes, mine are a bit worn-out at the moment,” you answer, following down the rows of footwear to find your particular size and desired brand. “Since you’re in this section, I’m guessing you might be needing some new ones as well?”

He shakes his head, “My current shoes are fine. However, I’ve been thinking about trying out this new brand,” his finger hovers in front of him, drawing his sight to specific footwear, “Been told they’re better for fencing.”

Your eyes go from tracing the shelf to glancing at the boy, curiosity dancing. “Oh? Think I should try them out myself?�� you ask while your hand grazes against the natural texture of the shoes you’ve been accustomed to, “I’ve been using these specific pairs for a while now, maybe it’s time to switch it up.”

“From what I hear, the cushion on these makes it easier for your feet to walk across the piste,” is his response before he spots said shoes on a particular row, about to draw them from their display board to inspect closer. However, subconsciously, your hands brush up next to each other while wandering through the litter of footwear among the walls. You’re both quick to separate as soon as they touch—like the sensation singes your skin—creating a distance between your hands.

“Sorry about that,” the two of you murmur your apologies. Upon hearing how in-sync your words sound between one another, you giggle and the boy next to you can’t help but hide a grin beneath his hand, amused.

Then you watch as Todoroki resumes analyzing the pair of sneakers. They’re fresh and matted in white with slick black streaks etched across the material. You nudge the boy to let you have a look, and he passes it to your palm. From a glimpse, you can tell these models were created with excellent quality and attention to detail.

“Wow, these are quite the shoes. A bit fancy, don’t you think? Wonder how much they—” the rest of the question does not leave your lips. You’re hushed the moment you turn over the white price tag strung around the holes the laces weave into, attempting to process the confounding amount of zeroes printed there. It only concludes with your eyes widening and your mouth hanging open. You ask yourself, how can mesh material molded into two simple pieces of footwear cost this much? Baffled, you merely twist the tag back around so you wouldn’t have to read the price anymore, and ease your spirit.

“I think I’m good with my current shoes…” your voice deadpans, swiftly gathering the box of reasonably priced sneakers into your arms.

Todoroki doesn’t make much of your reaction. He pulls the shoes off the shelf and ends up accompanying you to the register.

“It was a surprise to see you here, Todoroki,” you tell him.

“It’s my free day today, so I thought I’d run some errands,” he says.

A free day, huh? Your mind conjures the thoughts of last practice, recalling the rigorous routine the boy performed every other day, memorized into the fiber of his muscles down to the marrow of his bones.

You had to ask, “What do you usually do on your free days?”

“Rest,” his response is blunt and straightforward as expected, “sometimes get ahead on my studies,” he adds. By this point in the conversation, the two of you have arrived at the cash register.

You haul the box onto the counter, an action the cashier isn’t particularly fond of, forced to divert from the game airing on the screen. He scans the shoes, issues the price, and gathers the box in a plastic bag before doing the same for Todoroki, enacting the bare minimum amount of manners throughout the process.

Your purchased goods in hand, you’ve essentially finished your business here. Yet your eyes blink back, mind swallowed by the fact that after you leave the store, both of you will return and go about your day as you always do, likely not sparing a glance at each other until the next coming practice. You trail behind Todoroki, crossing through the exit with your gaze keen at the back of his head as if mustering a thought out. Soon, an idea emerges almost similar to a fast flicker of a light switch. Your voice calls out to him, and he turns back to you as a result.

“Say, Todoroki, since you mentioned today is your free day, how about we go grab something to eat together?” you ask, noting that the clock is currently ticking to lunchtime.

He narrows his brows, expressing uncertainty, “I don’t need to be back home until later, but I’m not sure if—”

“What? Are you gonna tell me you have homework to do or something?” You tease the boy for his overly-strict attitude. “C’mon Todoroki! Hanging out for a bit and eating with a friend shouldn’t hurt,” you chide, tone light, and persuasive.

Friend. You repeat the title in your head, wondering if it was right to designate that status on your own when you haven’t interacted much with him. In the end, you push the tricky thoughts aside for now.

“In fact, I know a pretty neat café around here. It’s right next to this popular soba restaur—”

His entire demeanor reacts in a flash the instant the last words depart from your mouth. Suddenly, he dons a faint, spirited expression, approaching closer as if he had heard wrong.

“Did you say soba restaurant?” His tone conveys an intense zeal at the word soba. You gawk before blinking in quick succession, the almost uncharacteristic gleam in his eyes taking you back. Then, your pupils dilate at the pieces assembling in your head.

The icy, diligent, handsome saber fencer, Todoroki Shouto, has a great weakness for soba noodles.

A smile curls across the line of your lips, “Would you like to come eat there with me?”

There’s a brief pause between you, but surely enough, Todoroki agrees with a nod. You verify with an exchange of smiles—yours wide, welcoming, and his subtle, yet still simmering warmth—before tugging him along with you to the soba restaurant, humming in tune with your steps that the boy can’t help but be amused by. When you arrive there, Todoroki’s quiet enthusiasm is evident while he scans through the menu filled with an assortment of food.

“They even have cold soba served in baskets here,” you hear him mutter beneath the menu. It ensues an amused grin on your lips. You try your best to contain the giggle threatening to chime as you watch the boy’s fervor for the noodles take on its most prominent form when presented and served within a woven basket, the bowl of dipping sauce on the side.

You opt for a hot bowl of udon, a contrast between the colder, thinner noodles on the opposite end of the small table. The two of you eat across each other, slurping your food with gusto to truly appreciate the restaurant’s well-cooked meal that soothes your bones. Just as Todoroki smothers his soba in the flavorful sauce, you speak to him to ease the atmosphere with more small talk.

“Todoroki, you mentioned earlier that you do some of your studies on your free days. Do you attend university?”

He swallows his noodles down to issue a response, “I do.”

“Interested in any particular majors?”

Todoroki shakes his head, “I’m undecided for now,” at his answer, he sets his bowl down for a moment and his sight lines down to his basket of soba.

“I haven’t had much time to think about where I’d head during university. Or what I’d do afterward.” The stare he evokes on his food could delve a fissure through the plate, considering the intensity over the troubling thoughts you’ve accidentally allowed to settle.

You frown, the udon noodles hovering above your bowl, twirled in your chopsticks. “It’s likely because you’ve been fencing all your life, huh?” you quietly surmise yet it’s loud enough for him to hear judging from the pensive look that crosses him. He doesn’t carry a response back because deep down, he knows it’s true. All he’s ever known throughout his young adult years of living is fencing. It has got to the point where the sport is second nature to him like it’s all he wakes up for, all he breathes for.

The shift in the air is apparent as you watch him silently resume eating his soba, but you don’t let the change deter your mood.

It’s up to him to decide how he creates his path. And if he chooses to walk on it, who are we to stop him? Aoyama’s words stir the depths of your subconscious. They ring through you until eventually activating an almost visceral reaction.

With your hardened fist wrapped around your chopsticks, a determined slam rattles the table. Todoroki, along with the nearby patrons encompassing the restaurant, rouse when it connects.

“Hey, look, you’re a great fencer. You should use your skills and talents to mold your future if that’s what you want to do,” you affirm, vigor in your voice, “It’s OK if fencing is integrated into your life. What matters is how you make your abilities your own and how it shapes you as a person.”

Todoroki blinks over your words. You scrutinize his face, searching for a reaction within the delicate seams of his handsome features before your chopsticks meet the broth in your bowl again.

“What I’m asking is, ‘Why do you fence?’” you ultimately inquire. That is the most important question after all, isn’t it? People who live this long in their path as athletes wouldn’t burn so much sweat and energy into a sport without so much as a reason—a goal.

Todoroki swallows the last of his soba noodles while contemplating. “I guess, to put it simply, it’s to become the best. To compete with the best and to go where... my father once stood.”

Your eyes flicker at the note of his father, perceiving the falter in Todoroki’s tone before the mention.

“Maybe even higher,” he adds, setting his utensils across the edge of his depleted bowl of sauce. You understand the reference at the attachment of higher. To head towards the upper step that his father could never achieve on that podium. It’s a weighty, arduous, and grandiose ambition, but the boy is determined to go to any lengths to get there, for the flare beneath his eyes quavers into a blaze too powerful to be doused by even a torrent.

“That would be quite a feat, Todoroki,” you whistle, “I just hope you remember, you’re allowed to go at any pace you want. You don’t need to be running all your life to get there.”

Saber fencers are fencers who live on the speed and adrenaline of the game, and only seem to increase their acceleration as time goes on. People who thrive on the discipline compare it to Formula 1 racing as it’s aggressive, fast, and requires split-second decision making. In a way, these traits reflect the boy’s story—the vigor he feels, the rapid-fire swiftness he tackles his life to attain that one point further to win the bout and achieve his dreams, his glory. He’s forgotten that he’s allowed to go at any pace he desires to accomplish something like this. He doesn’t need to keep his body in a full sprint all his life to make it to the finish line. He’ll get there eventually, and certainly doesn’t need his aspirations to be handheld by someone on the sidelines. He just needs to realize he can make those decisions on his own.

The breath he respires inward, along with the silence that drags amidst the gap enclosed among you two, is enough for you to know he’s absorbing your words. However, you’re blindsided when he leans forward on the table, chin resting on his palm with poise in his gaze.

“Why do you fence, Y/n?” He redirects your question right back. It’s not a move you expected, for you don’t respond immediately, attempting to conceive a reply through a trance in your head. Ultimately, you are scrounging for an answer that doesn’t exist.

“I’m... I’m not sure myself,” you say, returning empty-handed at the question.

Unlike Todoroki, you don’t harbor any challenging or earnest dreams and ambitions. Whereas he strides through his life, steered down a clear, concise path, you course through your existence like a nomad, and wander with no map and no specific directions to guide you except the wind and stars.

Perhaps the “stars” that led you here was that Olympic video you watched long ago, the one that spurred you to fence, and now collided you face-to-face with Todoroki, where he continues his venture to the top, and you’re still settling at the bottom with no particular outstanding talent or skills. Maybe the reason you could never drive yourself to achieve such feats is because you know, deep down, you’d never attain the results you desired. You’re just... average.

He observes as you shroud your figure in a stiff stance, your visage cast down to your own hands intertwined together beneath the table. You do not meet his eyes. Like an épée fencer, you are slow and defensive, putting up a wall hoping that it will be enough to repel the pierce of the deafening question away, along with the sear of his fixed stare.

However, he relieves you of the tension when his hand journeys across the table to tilt your chin up. Your walls teeter down as he allows your eyes to meet his once more, except at glance they do not burn. Instead, they are warm, soothing—parallel to the smile on his lips—like a kindle of fire you could sit by and revel in peace and tranquility.

“It’s OK, Y/n. I know you’ll find it eventually,” he assures. His words comfort you. The stiffness in your nerves mellow upon hearing the smoothness of his voice.

When the waiter abruptly drops off your bill on the table with a palpable clunk, your gazes remove themselves from one another at last, aware that you’re in the restaurant and have cleared your plates and bowls of noodles a while ago. Now was about time you vacated the spot for another set of people to occupy and enjoy a meal.

Your hand rummages into your bag to pluck out your wallet to help pay; however, Todoroki already allots his card atop the tray retaining the receipt, telling you that the food was on him. Even when you deny the offer, he still firmly insists.

“Consider this a thank you for showing me this place,” he asserts, “and for spending your time with me. I enjoyed talking with you.”

You wane, your hand easing out from your bag to wholly accept the proposal upon hearing that he relished your company—that the moment between you two meant something to him within his usual monotonous routine. It was a change, one he realized that, despite his uncertainty in the beginning, proved to conclusively recollect his thoughts and perhaps made him judge his ideals.

In the end, you lug your purchased shoes at your side as the two of you leave the table after paying the bill, now standing beside each other outside the restaurant.

Currently, the sun hangs above the clear sky scattered in the bright azure of late afternoon. You check the time on your phone, grumbling over how fast the hour flew by during your meal. Todoroki simpers, waving a hand out in front of you.

“I think it’s about time I headed back,” he says. You nod in agreement, knowing well you’ve intruded into his free time today, but are glad he enjoyed himself nonetheless.

“Can I borrow your phone, though? I need it to call someone to come pick me up.”

You pass your phone over to him without hesitation. He punches a few buttons through the call app, and the tone rings two consecutive times before he speaks into the mic. From where you’re occupying, you distinguish a muddled feminine voice talking on the other line.

His mom probably? Or maybe he has a sister? Either way, he concludes the call with a click sooner than you can debate further, returning your phone after his fingers dial across the screen longer than necessary. The swift series of motions bemuses you just as he places the device back into your palm.

“I’ll see you next practice, Y/n,” he farewells with a flourish of his hand as he walks off.

“Wait, what was it that—” your question pauses when you gesture your eyes down at the answer in front of you. The light emitting from the screen displays a newly added contact information with an attached number, and interestingly, it’s indicated by a single given name.

Shouto

Due to your inclination and inquiry, the contact rallies you to press your thumb above the series of numbers, clicking the message icon in the submenu. You type a quick text and push your finger on send without delay.

⇒ [ 4:13 ] — shouto?

Oddly enough, a gray bubble of ellipsis materializes as a notion that someone is typing on the other end, and it disappears just as fast as it emerges.

⇒ Shouto [ 4:13 ] — yes?

Of course, you’re surprised by how instantaneous the message appears, noting Todoroki had just utilized your phone to call home a minute ago. But at a tilt of your head, you pinpoint the boy hanging by the lamppost in the distance, turning back at you with—lo and behold—his phone right in between the slips of his fingers, a teasing grin gracing his lips. Your taunting nature quips a similar smirk in response.

⇒ [ 4:14 ] — you sly dog

.

.

“My, seems like you’ve been in an especially good mood lately, Y/n,” Yaoyorozu notes the way you hum upbeat melodies in the tune of a song one improvises on the spot, unique and unheard on any radio station, while you clasp the straps of your trousers over your shoulders in the locker room. The beam cast prominently on your face is enough indication that her remark is spot on.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you jest in a dulcet tone, fully aware of your jovial complexion. It’s almost as if a luminosity glows within your ambiance.

Since your run-in with Todoroki three weeks ago—resulting in your furtive exchange of numbers—you’ve been sending messages to one another, holding conversations outside the confines of fencing practice. During these texts, you grasp more and more of each other—your lifestyles, personalities, and interests. Todoroki even mentioned his older siblings to you in one exchange. His sister, Fuyumi, taught children at an elementary school while his brother, Natsuo, worked in the health department. However, his oldest brother, Touya, he wasn’t too sure about though he insisted he must be doing fine on his own, so you didn’t pry, surmising the brother to be free-spirited or some sort. Despite the generous dictions Todoroki spoke about his family, he still maintained a strained effort to not mention his father anywhere in your chats, presumably not to taint the conversation’s mood or flow. Especially considering his mother and his father are not on good terms.

However, through every delicate shift, you made a point to him that if he ever needed to open up to anyone about these sensitive topics that you’d always be willing to listen.

“You’ve even been on fire with all your matches during practice recently. Care to explain?” the onyx-haired girl questions, but you continue to wave her insistent queries away, latching on your last piece of fencing gear. Yaoyorozu quirks an eyebrow as she follows your splendor outside the locker room and into the training hall.

As you enter the room, now hectic with work, you catch sight of Todoroki only a little distance across from you, who’s preparing for a match. When your eyes meet, a smile unconsciously spreads on your lips cheek to cheek while he acknowledges your gesture with his own. Unknowingly, the reciprocation does not sneak past Yaoyorozu’s keen, peripheral vision as she soon emerges by your side with a witting glint in her eyes the moment Todoroki turns away.

“Oh I see now…” she begins musing, her hums pitching toward a chafing inflection, “You and Todoroki Shouto are seeing each other.”

“Momo!” you shrill. Despite Yaoyorozu passing on her remark through a bare murmur, your senses spike into acute awareness, jutting your head side-to-side behind you to perceive if anyone heard. Though your cheeks bloomed a dainty pink, the tips of your ears were suffusing a much more noticeable red that the girl can’t help but giggle at.

You release a sigh after composing yourself. “Shouto and I are most definitely not a thing,” you insist.

“Hm, but you’re already on a first-name basis with each other.” Yaoyorozu is as observant as always. You furiously shake your head, continuing to deny every accusation.

“Look, we’re just good friends! Besides, he doesn’t have time to get involved in things like that,” you tell her, and thankfully, Yaoyorozu does make a point that the boy seems more pressed about fencing than seeking a relationship at the moment, so she waves it off for now. All in all, you’re merely happy you could befriend him and offer your support whenever he needed it. Well, that was a summary of your relationship anyway. With Yaoyorozu mentioning the possibility of you and Todoroki being an item, it does find its way into your mind.

Holding hands, going on dates, exchanging—

But as soon as the idea transpires with vivid imaginations, you drive them away through an impulsive slap of your palms against your cheeks.

What am I thinking?! Shouto has too many things he’s working towards right now. He doesn’t have time for love and relationships! You scold yourself and immediately rush into training to distract those thoughts from appearing again.

On an average day of practice, the schedule follows along the lines of everyone scattering into their respected areas to warm-up before transitioning to drills and matches, mixing it up against different opponents to grasp a broader skill level. Today, you occupy your time as much as possible, taking breaks only when necessary to maximize the session and not allow your eyes and mind to wander towards a certain dual-haired young man again. And you’ve nearly succeeded this feat to the very end if not for said boy popping up at your side unexpectedly while you were placing your épée down.

“Oh, whoa, Shouto,” you sputter, about to tip off balance had Todoroki not caught you through a grip on your arm.

“What’s up?”

“Sorry, Y/n,” he apologizes, “but I wanted to ask if—”

“Todoroki.”

He’s cut short by a call, and when you two turn around you’re greeted by your messy-haired coach standing behind you.

“I need to speak with you real quick.” Coach Aizawa nudged his head toward the sideline. Obliging, Todoroki nearly dismisses himself from your side, but leans into your ear at the last second to mutter in a hushed voice, “Wait for me when you finish changing after practice, I’ll tell you then.”

Your sole response is a swift nod before Todoroki walks along Coach Aizawa. Whatever they’re speaking about is far beyond the curiosity of your mind because instead, you’re pondering the last bit of Todoroki’s words that edged off, making you wonder what he wanted to ask you. At first, you speculated the query to consist of trivial topics, like perhaps he was going to ask for another restaurant recommendation to show his family or whatnot. However, it didn’t take long for you to dive into the depths of your overarching thoughts. You surmised that maybe the other fencers have also speculated the two of you are in a relationship, and the boy came to you to clarify the matter by drawing a clear, defined line between you to rectify the misunderstanding.

“God, I’m just paranoid,” you mumble under your breath. While you do agree with not letting the others misinterpret your friendship, you’d rather it’d be through a means that wouldn’t have to hinder something between you two.

All you can do for now is fend off the rest of today until you’re finally hastening to the locker rooms to get dressed.

You tug the white uniform off to replace it with your casual apparel, shoving the gear back into your duffel bag and latching the strap onto your shoulder before closing the locker much more abruptly than necessary. As you’re about to make your leave in an evidently impatient manner, you still made sure to slip a remark to Yaoyorozu that you’ll be waiting outside the center for when she finishes.

By the time you headed to the exit, Todoroki had already situated himself beside the door, scrolling through his phone until he noticed you approaching.

“Hey, Shouto,” you greet, and Todoroki locks his phone to turn his attention to you. “What was it that you wanted to ask me earlier?” you ask, hoping he didn’t notice how eager you sounded.

“Right, I was recently invited to watch a fencing exhibition, and I wondered,” he starts, his hand brushing against the back of his head, “if you wanted to come along with me.” He averts his gaze to anywhere but your face, stance surprisingly stiff and a dust of pink blotting his cheeks that you don’t catch.

Oh, it was only that. At all your overrun thoughts and misunderstandings that built up beforehand, a grin arises, and you inevitably can’t suppress the laugh that gradually trembles in your gullet. Stumped, Todoroki scrutinizes your sudden animated expression like he’s left out in the ending of a joke.

“What? Was it something I said?” He squints his eyes, deliberating if he somehow said something humorous. You flit your head back and forth while the quivers resonating from your throat cease.

“No no, it’s not that. I’ve just been overthinking things is all,” you explain. Todoroki tilts his head.

“‘Overthinking’?” he repeats.

“Yeah, like I’m looking into certain details too much...” you trail off, voice running toward a dead-end that forces you to shift the tone of the conversation, much to your chagrin.

“Shouto, has anyone… said anything today?” Unknowingly, your fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt when you ask the question, nervous.

“What do you mean?”

At the response and his narrow brows, you shake your head, almost lamenting even asking something so ambiguous. “No, never mind, it’s nothing.”

Todoroki discerns the faint stir in your expression when you wave off the query. However, you’re quick to transition back into the subject at hand before he can even attempt to pry.

“Anyways, to answer your question, yes, I’d be glad to come with you, Shouto,” you answer, but a finger rests beneath your chin, “Though I’m a bit curious as to why you chose to ask me instead of someone else.” If Todoroki was invited to observe an exclusive exhibition match, it’s likely to consist of many other competent players within his league, meaning it’ll be an advantageous way to size up the competition. To invite you of all the people from the academy to tag along with him may be a waste compared to the other talent nurtured in that training hall. You understood your skills that much, at least.

The dual-haired boy raises his shoulders, nonchalantly, “I don’t see why I wouldn’t invite you.”

“I mean, wouldn’t it benefit another fencer better?” you reason. Todoroki remains unchanged in his stance.

“I don’t care about anyone in there. You’re the person I want to go with, Y/n,” he declares, firm with weight beneath every word that you don’t even think to oppose his fortification. So much so that those over-analytical inferences jointly possess your senses once again—the gears in your head beginning to speed up through a motor of hypersensitive nerves that drive your thoughts into ambient fantasies—until you will yourself not to let his words run over you, no matter how unwavering they may sound, or how saccharine they may be. You cannot indulge in cloying mirages, because you tell yourself those word don’t mean anything. They shouldn’t mean anything. 

“Alright, alright, I’m going with you,” you ultimately yield, and Todoroki grins like he’s beaten you in a longstanding debate.

“Good.” You hear a car pull up outside the fencing center, right as he finishes. At that, he makes his leave, calling out to you that he’ll see you again for the exhibition between an empty expanse that increases more and more as he walks to the vehicle. Your voice is only a distant holler when you utter back that you can’t wait, tone dying down. The moment his car drives through the broad horizon across the sky soaked in brilliant hues of reds and oranges, your hand reaches into your duffel bag to draw out your phone out of a deep longing for something you can’t properly discern.

An odd pang ripples your cognition, inciting you to unlock and push buttons that lead you back to your texts with Todoroki. You thumb across the keyboard in a gradual process to type a message you have little idea of the repercussions behind.

⇒ [ 5:34 PM ] — shouto what would you think if you and i|

“Oh, Y/n, thanks for waiting!”

Yaoyorozu’s preppy voice disrupts your motions, eluding your attention from the text message that is impulsively transcribed by the emotions running through your fingertips.

“Oh, Momo, you’re done,” you respond, feigning a sprightly tone in your reply to help waver the sensations playing at hand before cutting them off entirely by your thumb squeezing the backspace, suffocating the incomplete message away from your thoughts.

It is better to stab the heart now before it can beat any faster.

You try to ingrain this into your head, yet the lingering sensations you fail to extinguish produce the electric shock that prevents that heart from dying, and you head home, not realizing that it swells back into aching throbs.

Ending Notes | We made it to the end! Hope it wasn’t too boring or anything. If you liked to be added to the taglist for part 2 (which is basically the final part), just ask. However, I just want to warn you now in case you did not read the warnings and genre at the top, that this twoshot will contain smut. While it won’t be super explicit, it is still NSFW content so beware under 18 aged readers, especially since I haven’t posted any explicit content before this aside from sexual undertones and implied stuff on Syndicate. As always, comments and feedback are welcomed!

[ingu]

(1/2) I came here straight from finishing your TUA fic when I saw you had a Tumblr. Honestly, I could gush about it all day?? There's not enough space in these comment boxes, so I might review it chapter by chapter when I have the time, because there were so many things I thought you just NAILED about the characters. It was also one of the most thought-provoking fics I've read in the fandom. There were so many moments where my eyes lit up, because I felt you were really onto something.

(2/2) So yes, I just wanted to thank you for contributing such an amazing story! I was actually curious if you'd be writing anything else for this fandom, but to my delight I saw you posted some ficlet prompts. HMMM... What about "Promise me you’re not gonna over-react." or "It’s four o'clock in the morning, what are you doing?" Whichever interests you!

Gosh anon, thank you so much! This was such a sweet message to read and your words are massively kind. I would be absolutely thrilled if you ever decide to leave reviews on the chapters. It’s been such a relief to hear that the characterisation has been working for you guys!

Also, ask and you shall receive, here’s a non-canon(?) mini AU? continuation? of my TUA fic for you.

-

The house was quiet in the early morning, and even the sounds of the city outside were more muted than usual. With almost a dozen superpowered people sharing the house, it was also the time in the day where Five could be guaranteed a quiet moment to think and work on his equations without the danger of harassment.

Five mulled over his equations as he walked down the stairs toward the kitchen, holding his empty mug. He was right on the cusp of something big, and he knew that he could fix the imbalance in his maths. His calculations had gone wrong somewhere and he needed to redo the working, though he wasn’t entirely sure where he’d made the mistake.

As he walked, Five paused at the sound of ominous creaking in the floorboards ahead of him. It sounded like someone very heavy trying their best to be stealthy, and failing.

“Luther?” Five said, a frown falling across his face.

There was sudden silence, and Five stepped around the corner to find none other than Number One, skulking in the hallway.

"It’s four o'clock in the morning, what are you doing?" said Five, squinting at Luther in suspicion.

“Uh…” said Luther eloquently, his eyes wide and screaming with guilt.

Five stood unmoving, waiting for a response.

“Nothing?” Luther said in a tone that screamed something.

Five stared at him for a doubt filled moment, before deciding he didn’t really care. If it was anything truly important Luther would be rounding up the troops, not sneaking around like he was scared of getting in trouble with Dad.

“You really need to work on the lying thing,” Five said, and then jumped past Luther to get behind him.

“Wait!” Luther suddenly hissed, whirling around in a panic.

Five paused, then turned around with an annoyed frown. “What?”

“Wh- Uh, where are you going?”

“Kitchen.” Five gestured with his mug, before turning away again. He needed more coffee.

“No, stop!”

Incredulous, Five turned back. “Christ, what do you want?”

Luther made a frustrated, grumbling sound. “Okay, look. I’ll tell you. But you have to promise me you’re not gonna over-react.”

Something in Luther’s tone sent alarm bells ringing in Five’s head. “Luther, what did you do?”

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything, I just wanted a snack but then you-” Luther cut off suddenly, his mouth slamming shut.

“I what?” Five said, eyes narrowing. Luther had better be careful how he finished that sentence.

“Look just, come with me, alright?”

“To where?” Five said, as Luther pushed past him and started heading back the way he had come from.

“The kitchen.”

Frozen for a moment by the ridiculousness of the situation, Five rolled his eyes, and followed after Luther.

This had better be important.

-

The lights were on as they approached the kitchen, though it was hard for Five to see beyond Luther’s massive bulk.

“Oh hey, you’re back already?” Vanya’s voice sounded as Luther crossed the threshold. “Where’s the-”

Vanya’s voice abruptly cut off as Luther moved inside and Five, behind him, finally saw just what Luther had been hiding in the kitchen.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Five muttered, as he found himself face to face with his thirteen year old self.

At the kitchen table, Vanya sat next to Five’s younger self. The thirteen year old Five looked miserable, sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of something looking like hot chocolate. His hair was the same, but he wasn’t in a uniform, and wore a dark striped sweater with jeans and boots, looking unsettlingly like any other teenager he could walk into on the street. The younger Five’s clothes were creased and rumpled, but clean, and Five wouldn’t have been able to tell that he was a runaway if he hadn’t already known. 

Five felt faintly proud of the fact that his younger self managed to not look starved and homeless despite what had to have been a week on the street.

He also couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Holy shit,” the younger Five murmured, staring back at the adult Five with widening eyes. “How-”

Five made a face, then shrugged. “Congratulations, you can’t age anymore.”

Then, he walked around both Vanya and his younger self to check the coffee maker.

“Five!” Vanya chided as his younger self’s eyes went wide.

“That’s not true, Five,” Luther said with a look of confusion, before alarm fell over his face. “Wait, is it?”

Five shrugged. He was just fucking with them, but they didn’t need to know that yet.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” the younger Five muttered, echoing Five’s own feelings, before he suddenly cried out. “Wait, is this why none of you came home?” 

Five frowned as he put down his mug and picked up the empty coffee pot. It was strange to hear such obvious hurt in his own voice. He scratched at his neck, and then sighed internally as he took note of the new itchy patches that sprung up across his skin. Right, the damned psychosis.

“Well, this is certainly an interesting development,” Five said, turning around to face his siblings and his alternate self. “I’m going out to get some coffee.”

Everyone watched him in surprised silence. There were tears in Five’s younger self’s eyes, and that was an even more unsettling thing to see.

“Luther?” Five continued, turning toward his brother. “I expect to see you at Griddy’s in twenty minutes.” He gestured between himself and the younger Five. “We need to talk about this.”

“Wait, you’re just going to leave?” Luther said, stepping forward.

“Luther, do you remember what happened the last time I spent too long near my alternate self?” Five said, smiling mirthlessly. “If you don’t fucking do as I say, then don’t blame me if I skip straight to the homicidal rage.”

Five turned and jumped out into the alleyway before Luther could respond. He was getting really thirsty, and needed that coffee. Griddy’s had better still be open.

[curiousconch]

Someone Else's Christmas Star

An OH Christmas One-shot

Synopsis: Casey performs in Edenbrook's annual Christmas charity concert. Set in the time jump of OH Book 2.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC / Rafael Aveiro x MC

Words: 1.4k+

Rating: G / Fluff sprinkled with a little bit of angsty dust

Author's notes: This was mainly inspired by that Christmas Concert scene from Last Christmas where the adorable Emilia Clarke sang her own upbeat rendition of Last Christmas by Wham! (watch it here, I swear it gives off major Christmas cheer vibes). Disclaimer: all characters belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them. Thank you for reading! ❤️

This will probably my last work this year. I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas! 🌲❤️

It was Christmas Eve, and Edenbrook's atrium was a buzz with activity. Tonight was their Annual Christmas Charity Concert, where the first year interns are performing. It's been a long standing tradition and honestly the closest to an initiation rite the interns can have. As if Dr. Ramsey's snobbery wasn't enough torture.

"Dr. Valentine, can I talk to you for a second?" Esme approached the blonde doctor at the nurse's station, mustering the courage she needed to make her say yes.

Casey turned to face the young intern as she closed the clipboards of her last patient for discharge. "Mind if I sit down first?" Casey's feet hurt from standing up all afternoon, as a lot of their patients were in a rush to get home before tonight.

"Uhhh, sure," the intern nodded, leading them both into the cafeteria.

"What's up?"

"Well..."

Casey eyed Esme suspiciously, it was clear this was a situation she would rather not do.

"We don't have all day, Dr. Ortega. Spill."

"Can you be our lead singer tonight? Gary can't just freaking keep a tune."

***

Three hours later, Casey was wearing a green elf outfit adorned with multi-colored fairy lights all over.

"I did say no right? I said no so many times. Why am I here?" she asked her boyfriend, who was fussing all over her along with Sienna.

Bryce put on a matching green Santa hat on her head and grinned his effervescent megawatt smile.

"Because you're absolutely one talented singer, baby. And people can't miss out on that gorgeous voice of yours," he said as he kissed her forehead, making Casey's cheeks cluster.

Sienna giggled behind her while she secured the wide black belt around her waist, completing the costume.

"You'll do great, Cass, the kids will love you!" she said, mentioning the main audience of the concert, who was also the beneficiaries of all the donations from it.

Casey rolled her eyes, but couldn't help herself from grinning. She loved the kids, remembering her recent visits to the orphanage with Bryce. She was an orphan herself, so it wasn't hard for her to fit in with them.

Bryce pinched her cheek and planted a peck on her glossy lips. "You can do it, baby. I love you," he winked then playfully spanked her ass, then left the room with Sienna before she could retaliate. Casey felt her face burn, still getting used to the way she and Bryce fit like a glove. They were only dating for a few months, but theirs were so uncomplicated that it didn't take too long to be comfortable around each other.

Bryce was the one who were there for her all those nights. He was there when she was at the brink of death, he was there when she tried to wrestle with her trauma. He was there when she dealt with her heartbreak. And this Christmas, she wouldn't spend it alone, because her wonderful, lovely and magical Bryce was there to be with her.

She recalled how she spent last Christmas in an unimaginable demise, that she instantly pushed the very thought of it to the back of her mind. It wasn't long that Esme called her at the back of the makeshift stage, letting her know that their number was up next.

With a brief intro, they climbed the platform. Casey stood in the middle, illumated by the bright spotlights. As she waited for the other interns to setup, she waved at Gabriella, Tony, Chris and the other familiar faces of kids sitting in front. They beamed at the sight of her.

As the applause and Bryce's whistles receded, Casey's blue eyes caught a glimpse of the familiar green bomber jacket a few rows back. Her breath hitched as she saw his arms wrapped around the shoulders of another, making her freeze for a few moments.

"That's my baby! Wooh!" Bryce's cheer echoed though the makeshift concert hall, eliciting a few snickers and chuckles from the other surgical interns. She immediately snapped out of her trance.

She smiled back at her boyfriend, and took a deep breath, before singing the first line in acapella:

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart

But the very next day, you gave it away

This year, to save me from tears

I give it to someone special

With that the band came in, playing in an upbeat tempo to the synchronous cheer of the audience.

She repeated the chorus, but now to the accompaniment of Esme's electric guitar, Mitch's drums, Sokh's trumpet and Gary's tambourine.

She twirled around, smiling widely before she took the wireless mic and stepped down the stage to approach the kids, singing the verse as she patted each of the kids's heads:

Once bitten and twice shy

I keep my distance but you still catch my eye

Tell me, baby, do you recognize me?

Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me

"Merry Christmas!" the audience shouted, participating into the song.

I wrapped it up and sent it

With a note saying "I love you" I meant it

Now I know what a fool I've been

But if you kissed me now I know you'd fool me again

In response, Casey walked down the space in the middle of the hall, nodding at the familiar faces of her patients who were spending their holidays in the hospital, as she continued the tune.

She sang back the chorus again, waving her free arm in the air. As the music transitioned to the second verse, she walked towards Sienna, Jackie, Elijah and Aurora, the group of friends she now could call as her own family.

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes

I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice

My god, I thought you were someone to rely on

Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on

She stepped towards her man, and Bryce didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her waist, dancing with her as she sung the next verses.

A face on a lover with a fire in his heart

A man under cover, but you tore me apart

Now I've found a real love, you'll never fool me again

Together, they danced, temporarily forgetting the hundreds of eyes watching, as Casey sang the chorus again and again.

Bryce twirled her one final time before he brought her back the front, and helped her climb back onto the platform, winking with pride.

She swayed her hips to the chorus one last time, as the rest of the audience clapped and sang along.

Last Christmas

I gave you my heart

But the very next day you gave it away

This year to save me from tears

I'll give it to someone special

As the instruments played the outro, she pointed at each of the interns laughing and twirling, as the rest of the stage lit up in a burst of joyful color.

Once the song ended, Casey and the interns bowed down to raucous applause that even Dr. Ramsey can't help but join in.

"Baby you were incredible!" Bryce gushed as he embraced her, lifting her petite figure up from the ground. "You're my sexy shimmering Christmas star!"

She squealed in delight, her arms enclosing his neck as she pulled him to a kiss.

"Get a room, you two!" Jackie belched, as Elijah, Aurora and Sienna approached the two and the interns.

"Yeah, it'll take a whole lot of Christmas miracle to separate this pair of lo-" Elijah was interrupted by the barrage of youngsters who stampeded towards Casey.

"You were awesome up there Caseeeeeyyy!"

"Yeah Casey so cool!"

"Way to go auntie Casey!"

She crouched down to talk back to them, Bryce lifting one little girl onto his shoulder to the kid's absolute delight. The interns were beyond amazed at the sight.

"Thanks, Dr. Valentine," Esme grinned, as she tackled a young boy who was pulling the Christmas lights around her.

"I was just trying to keep up with you guys," Casey winked, to the chuckle of rest.

Several paces away, brown eyes watched the joyful cluster with a mixture of sadness and longing. He knew she wasn't his anymore, that she was someone else's Christmas star now. Yet he couldn't stop thinking about the million regrets he had since last Christmas.

Nimble fingers tapped him on his shoulder, making him turn away from the sight.

"You ready to head back? Your vovo's waiting," Sora spoke softly, as she handed him a bag of goodies.

Rafael took it from Sora's hands, forcing a smile and nodded. "Let's go."

Sora took his hand and together they walked away. Raf looked sideways, catching a final glimpse of Casey and Bryce. It was at that moment that he began to doubt himself, when he started to realize that he didn't entirely move on. He realized much later, that he really chose not to.

Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[chilling-seavey]

Oooo blurb idea but what about Daniel and Florence meeting the girls' boyfriends?

I went with the girls’ endgames for this one and how they met can be found in each of their character profiles ;)

Clementine

Clementine was always a fiery spirit, a proud feminist too if you will, and she never let stupid boys get in the way of her aspirations. That being said, it was a bit of a surprise to Florence and Daniel when Clementine came home at age twenty-two giggling like a schoolgirl and absolutely gushing about this boy she met at her internship. Clementine rarely gushed about boys like that, if ever.

Clementine knew her father well and she knew he was going to be keeping a firm hand on her the day she would bring home any random boy for her family to meet so she pushed away the idea of dinner for a while. In fact, Winston didn’t meet Daniel and Florence until they had been dating nearly five months. Clementine finally caved and took her pleading and excited mother up on the idea of dinner, showing up at her family’s apartment at the end of September in black jeans and a dressy sweater with her well dressed boyfriend on her arm.

Clementine stopped right outside the apartment door and turned to him, “Dad might ambush you.”

“You’ve said that plenty.” Winston chuckled, his sweet British accent and small dimples already being enough to calm her nerves.

“Just…don’t be freaked out, okay? And be good. I want them to love you.” Clementine said.

“I’m always good.” Winston teased, dipping down to kiss her once before she was opening the door and leading him inside by his hand.

“Hey!” she called out as they took off their shoes and headed farther into the apartment.

Lucy was at the piano, already practicing her pieces for her university applications even she didn’t have schools or programs in mind yet, and her fingers slipped over the keys at her first glance at her sister’s handsome boyfriend. Her stumble made Daniel look up from setting the table, his eyes locking on the couple in the doorway and Clementine could see his eyes taking them in flatly.

“Guys, this is Winston, my boyfriend. Winston, this is my family; mum, dad, and littlest sister – Florence, Daniel, and Lucy.” Clementine rushed out quickly behind her nervous grin, her hand tightening on his arm.

“So good to finally meet you.” Winston smiled, offering his hand out to Daniel first.

“You too.” Daniel cracked a small smile to the young man who was just about his same height if not slightly taller, taking his handshake as he glanced over at Florence approaching from the kitchen.

“I’m so glad you could make it tonight. We’ve heard so much about you.” Florence said sweetly, sliding her hand around Daniel’s back.

“Only good things, I hope.” Winston chuckled. “Dinner smells divine, Mrs. Seavey.”

“Oh, thank you.” Florence bit back her smile at the formalities.

Clementine and Winston moved to the living room and Daniel followed Florence back into the kitchen, leaning over her shoulder to whisper a slightly mocking “Mrs. Seavey” into her ear in a little British accent.

“Be nice.” Florence smacked his chest with the tea towel in her hand.

“I am. That was just cute.” Daniel shrugged, his eyes falling across the apartment to where Lucy was showing off on the piano, messing up a few more times than normal due to the handsome stranger watching her from beside her sister. Florence let him stare for a while, offering him bits of the carrots that were cooking and a scoop of mashed potatoes as he kept his eyes on their guest.

“Do I need more salt?”

“Huh?” Daniel turned to look at his wife, eyes wide like a clueless puppy.

“God, I could have been being strangled over here and you wouldn’t have noticed.” Florence chuckled, pushing another spoon of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Does it need more salt?”

“Mm, no.” Daniel said, taking a quick inhale. “But it’s freaking burning my mouth.”

When dinner was ready and they were all around the table, Lucy had gotten to the point where she was just talking their guest’s ear off about everything and anything. Winston didn’t mind – he was used to keeping up with Clementine’s own rambling anyway – and he politely answered all of her rushed questions.

When Lucy took a second to actually breath, Winston turned to Daniel, “Clementine tells me you own a music production studio in the city?”

“I do, yeah.” Daniel said, a bit taken back by the fact that his daughter spoke about him when he wasn’t around…and to her boyfriend. “I started as an intern there in university and my friend and I worked our way up until the place was handed over to us a few years back.”

“That’s amazing. I dabbled a little in music as a boy but chose law as my career path instead.”

If it was possible, Daniel probably would have swooned right then and there and Florence giggled into her forkful of potatoes at Daniel’s little grin and excited shuffle,

“What kind of music?”

“Singing mostly. Just a hobby but I performed a few gigs at my local pub back home in secondary school. People said I was good.”

“You should come by the studio some time and we could jam a bit.” Daniel offered.

Clementine’s eyes went wide at the offer and she looked to her mother who seemed just as surprised. They shared small smiles and turned back to their plates.

“Yeah. That would be lovely.” Winston agreed. “Thank you.”

Dinner went well and Clementine was pleasantly surprised that her boyfriend wasn’t hounded with any ridiculous questions from any of her family members. After a good meal and a bit of tea in the living room catching up some more with Lucy’s gentle piano practicing in the background, it was time for the couple to head out as it was getting late. Daniel and Florence walked them to the door.

“We’ll have to have you over again when Penelope’s back from school.” Florence said.

“Yes, absolutely. I would like that very much.” Winston agreed. “Thank you again for supper.”

“You’re most welcome.” Florence beamed. Daniel draped an arm around her waist as Winston helped Clementine into her coat.

“Wait for me in the car?” Clementine asked him softly.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Winston smiled, dipping down to kiss her again before saying his last goodbyes and headed out of the apartment.

Clementine turned her lovesick smile around to her parents, clasping her hands together and rested her chin on her interlaced fingers, “So?”

Daniel started, “He was…”

“Dad, if you spew out critiques at me, I will never ever talk to you again.” Clementine whined.

“Oh my gosh, angel.” Daniel laughed. “Glad to know you think that way of me. I was trying to say, that he was amazing. I might want to date him.”

Florence smacked him playfully.

Clementine’s mouth fell open, “Really?”

“Why are you so surprised that we liked him?” Florence asked.

“Normally you’re so…dad’s so…annoying and protective.”

“Of course, I’m protective; you’re my little girl.” Daniel said. “But my little girl is also twenty-two now, so I think I don’t really have a say anymore, huh?”

“But honestly, you liked him?” Clementine bit back her grin as if it was too good to be true.

“So much.” Florence nodded.

“And he seems to treat you so well.” Daniel added.

“And he looks at you the same way this one looked at me.” Florence finished, gesturing to her husband.

“Looked? Past tense?” Daniel gaped at her. “I always look at you like a lovesick doofus, what are you talking about?”

Clementine scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned for the door, “God, you guys are gross. I’m leaving now. Love you! I’ll text you when I get home!”

Penelope

Daniel hummed softly to himself as he walked up the steps of the art gallery, an excited smile on his face as he was going to surprise Penelope with lunch on her break. It was an extra hot summer day so he was only in shorts and a tank top – not quite the attire one would wear to visit the gallery – but the employees at the front desk knew him well and they didn’t give his outfit much of a second glance.

“She’s in the studio on the third floor.” one of the ladies said before he could even ask and Daniel thanked her with a sweet smile before heading for the curving staircase in the interior courtyard. He didn’t notice the lingering glances of the young ladies on his exposed muscles and softly tanned skin lightly shining in sweat from the summer sun.

The studio classrooms were tucked away from the main gallery and they were where Penelope mostly spent her internship assisting the teachers and artists with their classes. Daniel let himself into her usual room, pushing open the cracked open door, calling out a lighthearted, “Hey, bug. I was wondering if you wanted to-”

He stopped in his tracks barely two steps into the room, eyes wide as Penelope pushed the strange boy away from her and wiped her lips with the back of her hand as she jumped off the table quickly.

“Dad! Oh my gosh-” Penelope tried to defend her actions behind terribly blushed cheeks but Daniel was already out the door and halfway to the stairs, nearly just as embarrassed as she was.

Penelope rushed after him, tugging off her paint stained apron on her way out the door.

“Dad!” she called, her voice echoing down the hallway.

“I’ll just see you at home, okay? I didn’t mean to interrupt or just barge in on your…work.” Daniel rushed out, stopping at the top of the stairs.

“Daddy.” Penelope sighed. “I’m sorry. I…gosh, I’m sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. I’ll go.”

“No. Don’t. Please stay. I want you to meet someone.” Penelope took his hand in hers.

“The guy who just had his tongue in your mouth?”

“Oh my gosh, Daddy, stop. I’m pretending you didn’t see anything.” Penelope cringed, pulling him down the hallway.

So he let his nineteen year old lead him back into the studio where the young man still stood quite nervously across the room, his hands in his pants pocket.

“I didn’t want you guys to meet like this but…Dad, this is Anthony. My boyfriend.”

“B-Boyfriend?” Daniel gaped, looking from the stranger to his daughter, her hand still in his. Penelope had never had a boyfriend – at least none that she went out of her way to be with – and Daniel was nearly stunned into silence.

“Yeah. I told you and Mum I was talking to someone.” Penelope mumbled.

“Yeah…talking to someone but it didn’t look like there was a lot of talking going on.”

“Dad!” Penelope squeaked.

“Despite what it looked like I’m quite polite.” Anthony chuckled nervously, his cheeks dusted in pink, he held his hand out to Daniel. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Daniel hesitated but shook his hand, his other tightening in Penelope’s, “You as well. Although I haven’t heard much of you.”

“We’re taking it slow.” Penelope said softly, shifting her hand out of Daniel’s to stand beside Anthony and leaned into him.

Daniel might have been a bit oblivious about women staring at him but he certainly wasn’t clueless when it came to Anthony’s slight stare towards his muscles and the protective father crossed his arms over his chest for emphasis. His height enough was slightly intimidating, standing 6’1” over the 5’10” young man and Anthony swallowed nervously.

“Anyway, I should let you two have lunch.” Anthony mumbled. He turned to Penelope and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Talk later, Penny.”

Penelope pulled a small smile and nodded, letting him leave the room without another word, Daniel’s narrowed eyes following him out. Penelope groaned in annoyance when they were alone.

“Dad, what the heck?” Penelope smacked his arm.

“What?” Daniel turned back to her.

“You were being so rude and possessive. Why can’t you be nice for once?”

“I was perfectly nice.”

“You didn’t say anything and just flexed your stupid muscles and glared at him like a weirdo!”

“Gotta make sure he’s up for the challenge.”

“Challenge of what? He’s not a wresting partner! He’s my boyfriend!” Penelope frowned. “And I’ve never had one before so just…freaking relax, okay?”

“Exactly. He’s your first boyfriend. So I gotta make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“Dad!” Penelope groaned through a pout. “You’re so obnoxious. I’m calling mom.”

Lucy

“It was so funny, Daniel, oh my gosh. So Lucy brought her boyfriend over for dinner last night and he was telling us-”

“What?”

“What?”

“She brought her what?”

“Her…boyfriend? Xavier?”

“What the fuck? Who the fuck is Xavier?”

“He was one of her dance instructors and they started dating like last month. You don’t…know?” Tyler’s voice was much softer now as if he was just caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, the pixels over the FaceTime call buffering a moment through his worried frown.

“He was her teacher?” Daniel nearly shouted. “She brought him to my house for dinner to meet my family before I even knew he existed? Her teacher?” Daniel gaped into the phone.

“Daniel, relax, okay? It’s not a big deal.” Tyler said as gently as he could.

“So all of you met him?”

“Yeah. Christian and Anna came by home too.”

“What the fuck.” Daniel breathed, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“God, please don’t lash out.” Tyler groaned. “You always overact with this stuff, bro. It’s not like he’s 45. And he’s a nice guy, okay?”

“I gotta go.”

“Daniel-”

He hung up before his older brother could say anything else and he threw himself off the couch and stormed down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

“Florence!”

She had just gotten out of the shower – like barely had even pulled her underwear up her legs before he was barging into the ensuite. She knew he was angry when he used her full name and she pulled her shirt from the counter to keep herself someone decent under the emotional glare of her husband.

“What’s wrong?” Florence asked as gently as she could.

“Did you know Lucy has a boyfriend out in BC?” Daniel asked sharply, throwing his arm out like he was pointing to the other side of the country like that.

“A boyfriend? Yeah, I think I knew. She mentioned it in passing to me that she was talking to someone, why?” Florence said, walking past him to start to blow-dry her hair.

“You knew?!”

“She tells me a lot. I’m her mother. Did you not know?” Florence frowned, talking louder over the noise of the hairdryer.

“No! Did you know he went over for dinner with my family? And that he was her dance teacher?”

“She’s dating her professor?” Florence’s eyebrows raised as she stared at him through the bathroom mirror.

“According to Tyler! Tyler! Fucking Tyler knows before me.”

“Jesus, Daniel. Maybe because she knew you were going to blow a damn fuse like you are.” Florence laughed lightly, turning off the hairdryer and set it on the counter to give him her full attention. “Call her then, sweetheart. Take some deep breaths and grab a drink of something and call her.”

Daniel whipped out his phone and dialed their youngest daughter right away.

“Daniel, I said calm down first before you-”

“Hey, Dad.”

“Why the hell am I finding out from my brother that you have a boyfriend?”

Florence sighed tiredly and ran a hand over her face as Daniel took his conversation out into the bedroom.

Lucy’s face on the other side of the screen was answer enough, her wide eyes and shocked face as if she was a deer in headlights, “Uhh.”

“Yeah ‘uhh’.” Daniel scoffed. “And your professor of all people? That’s is hugely inappropriate. You’re just barely twenty-one, Lucy Elizabeth. I swear to God, if he’s closer to my age than he is to yours I’m flying out tonight to take you home.”

“Dad! Shit! Listen to yourself! You’ve gone freaking insane!” Lucy shouted to cut off his angry tangent. “I’m not an idiot, Dad! I know how to handle myself. Even still, do you think Uncle Christian and Uncle Tyler would let me bring around some old man? Or especially Grandpa? Yeah, he was my dance instructor last year but we didn’t talk seriously until after I was done his class. We didn’t break any rules so calm yourself.”

“How old is he?” Daniel asked, narrowing his eyes towards the screen.

“I’m twenty-six, sir.”

The voice coming from somewhere behind Lucy made Daniel’s face completely fall pale. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Lucy, I swear, why couldn’t you have put headphones on-”

“Because you called me like a maniac to yell at me in the middle of dinner!” Lucy turned her phone to show her half-eaten place setting and he caught a glimpse of the young man across from her.

“Lucy’s a strong woman, Mr. Seavey. She knows when to put me in my place and it’s only been a month and things are going nicely. At least I think so. She decides what happens with us and when.” Xavier assured him as politely as he could.

Daniel sighed at Lucy’s prideful grin at her boyfriend sitting across from her and she turned back to their FaceTime call with a scowl.

“I know what I’m doing, Dad.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to make sure things were serious before getting you and Mom involved. The family out here is one thing but you two are my world and I gotta make sure I’m doing something good and something solid before telling you. So can you not scream at me like I’m six?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Daniel sighed, rubbing his hand over his face tiredly. “I was just worried about you. After what happened at prom I-”

“Oh my gosh, Dad. That was like four years ago. Nothing happened. I’m fine. I’ve grown up. Now can I eat dinner in peace?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m sorry.”

“If you’re good maybe I’ll bring him home to meet you guys.” Lucy chuckled.

“I would like that a lot!” Xavier spoke up.

“We’ll think about it.” Daniel said flatly.

“Love you, Daddy.” Lucy smiled, blowing him a kiss through the screen.

“Love you, princess.” Daniel sighed, watching the screen turn to black as she hung up. He flopped himself backwards onto the bed with a huff and ran both hands through his hair, staring up to the ceiling blankly.

“I know what Clementine would say if she was here.” Florence said from the bathroom.

“What?” Daniel mumbled.

“‘Someone needs to get laid.’”

“Was that an offer?” Daniel bit back his smirk.

“No way, pretty boy. I’m going to sleep. Move it.” Florence said, turning off the bathroom light and smacked his thigh to get him off her side of the bed. Daniel shuffled over and let her climb under the covers before laying down and resting his head on her stomach. “Tired yourself out, huh?”

“Shut up.”

[amethystunarmed]

Is Heavy, So Few Men Can Carry It

Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Dabi/Hawks

Warnings: Manga Spoilers, Implied Child Abuse

Word Count:  2278

Part of the Truth Series Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

AO3 Link (Links will be added in a reblog)

~~~~~

Koharu Mukai more or less enjoyed being an EMT. Her quirk was certainly suited for it. The ability to see heartbeats through even dense piles of rubble certainly came in handy during earthquakes and large scale building destruction. It helped in grimmer situations too, like letting her know when there’s no need to rush at the scene of a car crash. Those days were the worst. Sometimes, she had nightmares about silent cityscapes where she can’t see a heartbeat at all.

Where she’s utterly alone.

Maybe that’s part of what influenced her career decisions. When Koharu’s quirk first manifested, her parents had nudged her to the life of a hero. It was never anything overt, never openly stated, but Koharu knew. They weren’t exactly subtle. They entered her into judo lessons the moment she could walk, gushed when rescue heroes like Thirteen and Uwabami were on the news. During her last year of middle school, a brochure for UA appeared on her desk. Again, not subtle.

But... Koharu didn’t want to be a hero. Didn’t want to fight and train for combat with villains. Didn’t want to risk seeing those heartbeats stutter out as a result of her actions.

But she did want to save people.

So, she trained to be an EMT, and she was a damn good one too. And she loved it, she really did.

Except for when it came to dealing with heroes.

Koharu couldn’t say she didn’t get it. Ranking was everything for heroes, and more than half of it relied on reputation and public opinion. She had witnessed a hero from her hometown drop thirty spots in rank after a reporter broadcast him being taken away in an ambulance.

She got it.

But it didn’t mean they needed to be such assholes about it. Attempting to treat a hero after a fight could get you scolded like a child at best, and reported on as incompetent by the media at worst. One of her friends had tried to bandage a seven-inch gash on Endeavor’s arm, and ended up with second degree burns on her hands. So when she pulled the short straw and was sent to look over Hawks, she only really felt a pang of resigned dread.

Honestly, she’d heard good things about Hawks. Every EMT who spoke of him recounted him as polite, cheerful, and actually willing to comply with basic check-ups. Koharu finds all of this to be true. He obeys her every request, even as he repeatedly checked the time on his phone. He starts anxiously tapping his foot, and she takes pity on him.

“You seem alright, Hawks,” Koharu says, as she finishes checking for a concussion. “Not even a scrape.” She’d be surprised at the lack of injuries if she hadn’t seen the current state of the villains. All nine completely immobilized and unharmed. After treating some of the perps Endeavor has brought in, she’s honestly surprised Hawks isn’t Number One. His care and efficiency are unmatched. “Anything else happen that I should know about?”

“I mean, I think one of the villains hit me with her quirk,” he says with no regard to how worrying that statement is. He blinks and startles, almost as though coming back to himself. He looks at her with a large smile, but she can see his heartbeat kickstart with adrenaline. “But it didn’t do anything, I feel perfectly fine.”

Bullshit.

Still maybe she can coax him into actually taking care of himself.

“Even so, it would be best for you to go to the hospital. We can monitor you for any changes.” His smile widens but she sees his eye twitch with annoyance. She holds back a groan and waits for the meaningless platitudes to begin.

“I’m not allowed to go to the hospital.”

Koharu has to admit, her jaw drops. All the training classes, all the years experience, everything she’s ever learned just flies out of her head.

She stares at him, silently, like an idiot.

“I r-really need to go,” Hawks stammers. He looks scared. He looks like he’s about to cry. And suddenly, Koharu remembers that Hawks is a couple years younger than her baby sister. “I just broke like, 8 NDAs by telling you that.”

He’s trying to get away from her, she can see his wings flapping. He is biting his lip, hard, like he is trying to keep himself quiet.

Koharu remembers the words of one of the officers first on the scene. He’d told her to stay away from one of the villains, because of her quirk...

Her eyes widen. She reaches forward to Hawks, unsure if touch will calm him, or just make him more upset. Given the way he flinches, she guesses the latter. She keeps her words calm and level, trying to ease his rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“Hawks, one of the villains is registered as having a truth quirk. I think you’ve been affected–”

“I have to go,” Hawks yells, so loudly it startles her, “I’m terrified of telling you something that will get you killed.”

Koharu gasps, body nearly going limp in shock.

Why would something like this put her in danger?

Could this endanger her family?

What is happening?  

By the time she thinks to ask, Hawks is soaring far above her. She watches until the skyline swallows him.

~~~~~

That night, when she gets home, Aimi is waiting for her. Her eyes light up when Koharu enters, but freeze over when she registers Koharu’s expression. Koharu longs to give in and tell her everything, let go of the terrible knowledge bubbling inside her. She opens her mouth to speak and chokes. I’m terrified of telling you something that will get you killed. She clamps her jaw shut and launches herself forward into Aimi’s arms, and muffles her sobs in her chest. To Aimi’s credit, she never tries to ask what happened. She only strokes Koharu’s hair and hums.

~~~~~

That night, long after her wife had fallen asleep on her chest, Koharu lay awake, staring at nonsense pictures in the ceiling spackle. She thinks of that strange admission—I’m not allowed to go to the hospital—and ponders endlessly of what he could have possibly meant in fractal conspiracy theories. Over and over again, she hears his panicked stammers, those words—I’m terrified of telling you something that will get you killed—echoed around her. He had looked at her with the same terror held by those in the midst of a disaster; the horrific certainty of life crashing down around you.

I should have done something.

I should have said something.

But she hadn’t. And even now, she cannot fathom what would have been the right words to say. She closes her eyes and tries to sleep.

The after-image of his frantic heart beats against her eyelids.

~~~~~

Two days later, in the hospital lobby, she spots a TV news report about the disappearance of the Number Two Hero, Hawks. She drops a stack of forms and they coat the hallway floor like snowfall.

~~~~~

Later that week, Koharu is called into the office of the Hero Public Safety Commission. They didn’t tell her what for, but she knew. Considering the timeline the news had constructed, Koharu would have been one of the last people to see Hawks before his disappearance, if not the last. Though Koharu can’t help but wonder what they could possibly expect her to know. Furthermore, she has no idea what to do with what she does know.

Aimi is nervous. She continually fidgets with the hem of the suit jacket Koharu hasn’t worn since her last job interview. She claims she is just straightening it, but each touch of the fabric evolves into a hand around her waist, a brush against her wrist. Aimi is touching her like she is saying goodbye. Koharu kisses her gently, attempting to comfort her, but can’t help but wonder if she will disappear too.

~~~~~

The office of the Hero Commission Director is blank, white, and boring. The photos on the wall are close ups of calla lilies Koharu expects were in the frames in the store. The desk is black, with stainless steel dressings, and is wide enough that Koharu feels the urge to shout so the Director can hear her. The room makes her feel small, like an outsider, and Koharu can’t help but wonder if that was the goal when the Director smiles at her.

“Welcome, Mukai-san, thank you for coming in,” she says, and Koharu robotically complies.

“H-Hello,” she stutters, and curses herself. The Director chuckles, though not unkindly.

“No need to be so nervous,” she assures. “I just want to know if Hawks said anything to you before he left the scene that day, or if you can recall anything out of the ordinary. You’re not in any trouble.”

“Sorry,” she says, “I just... didn’t expect to meet with you. I thought an assistant would take my statement, or something.”

The Director purses her lips, and looks at her with mournful eyes. “We took Hawks in when he was no more than a toddler,” she tells her, voice heavy with nostalgic grief. “I helped raise him. So of course, I am doing everything in my power to find him.” She reaches forward, takes Koharu's hand in his own, like a man begging for a pardon. “So please, tell me, do you remember anything from that day that could help us find him?”

She remembers I’m not allowed to go to the hospital.

She remembers the way Hawks cowered from her raised hand.

She remembers his heartbeat.

“No,” she tells him, “Nothing.”

~~~~~

Weeks pass. The Commission doesn’t reach out to her again. She breathes a sigh of relief and puts the whole business out of her mind. (Every night she lies awake and hopes that Hawks isn’t found.)

The next time she sees Hawks, he’s on the news.

It was after her shift. For the first time in weeks, she’d agreed to join the rest of her squad at a local bar for some beers. The night had been going better than she expected, at least, until the bulletin happened.

“Breaking News,” The anchor said, nervous voice a poor attempt at remaining neutral, “Former Number Two Hero Hawks has teamed up with the League of Villains in an ongoing heist.” Gasps filled the bar, including Koharu’s own. Someone turned off the music, with the report acting as their only soundtrack. They cut to video of the attack. It was blurry, taken on a phone by someone who absolutely should have been running away, but that is not why Koharu nearly doesn’t recognize him.

Hawks is different. Feathers sprout from his hair and trail down to the nape of his neck. His hands are uncovered, and spout deadly claws. He’s bare-foot, so she can see just how inhuman his legs are, clearly meant to perch and kill. She’s certain the talons on them are at least the size of her hand.

Despite all this, the strangest sight is his expression. Koharu had seen Hawks smile. Honestly, between the TV interviews and billboard ads, it was hard not to. Hawks was known for lighting up the room, making girls literally scream with his dashing looks. Hawks’s smile is like the sunset, constant yet endlessly alluring.

But Koharu realizes, as she watches him grin as he carries the scarred villain from a burning roof, she has never seen Hawks happy until just this moment.

The people in the bar are screaming with anger and betrayal. Someone throws a beer bottle and it shatters against the TV.

On screen, Hawks  croons, and nuzzles his cheek with the man he’s carrying, and something in Koharu’s chest shatters.

Tears drip down her cheeks, and though she is not the only one crying, she is alone in her sobs of joy.

“Fly,” she whispers, words trampled by the jeers and wails of the crowd. “Go far from this place.”

And though he cannot hear her, Hawks sails away, far out of reach.

She does not need to see his heart to know it beats free.

[ninjakasuga]

Sonsal Celebration Day 6

Day Six of the celebration of best furry couple by @boundforfreedomsonsal continues! Admittedly I’ve been watching eagerly for this day as this was honestly the first of the prompts I worked on. Having finished reading @archiesoniconline ‘s fan-project version of issue 249 and 250 (in which Sally was deroboticized huzzah) and the signs of Sally dealing with the obvious aftermath; I was inspired. Add in inspiration from a few pages of Glitcher’s Sonic Retold series, and well I had material to work with. I recommend if you want to see a faithful fan continuation of the pre-reboot Archie-Sonic era give ASO, a shot or even pay Glitcher’s DA page ( https://www.deviantart.com/glitcher ) a visit. Since the old comics are never going to see an official revisit we fans are the only ones who will see our beloved characters flourish so give these guys and other fan projects a looksie! Also the lovely, AMAZING art work provided for this prompt was by the amazing @foxinadress​  seriously this amazing artist deserves praise. I recommend not only giving his Tumblr a visit but check their various art platforms and Patreon.

One last Author note; there is some pushing of the PG-13 as per usual, but at this point you guys expect that from me. XD Also while this takes place in my little Sonic fic-verse, it’s out of chronological order, taking place between the Double Date and Surprise prompt episodes.

HURT:

Looking out at the forest beyond Sally Acorn didn’t seem to pay mind to the setting sun, nor did she react to the sounds of the far off cheers coming from the city nearby. There was a lot to celebrate, between the Deathegg being put out of commission, for Naugus being exposed and dealt with, everyone was in a party mood. As much as she didn’t care to dwell on it, the Princess knew a chunk of the celebration was for her own safe return after spending a few months as Mecha Sally.

A few horrible, painful months where she felt like she was trapped inside her own body, unable to do anything but the screaming impulses of Eggman’s whim. She’d be lying if she didn’t thoroughly enjoy seeing his shattered expression as he fled from the Deathegg as the vile creation was torn apart by explosions before crashing into one of his bases it was poised above. It almost made up for the hell she endured.

Yet that joy felt somehow hollow still and it bugged her incessantly. She was back home, her friends and family safe, the Kingdom was safe, and yet… Sally couldn’t fully feel right. She did not feel like she deserved to be there, enjoying the celebration with everyone else. The squirrel-munk hated how she felt, not when her friends, and especially a certain Hedgehog, fought like hell to get her back. Closing her eyes Sally felt the raging memories she tried to suppress coming back. Of her time as Mecha-Sally, from being used as a tool to harm, maim, and kill her friends. Thankfully the latter never happened, but plenty of the former happened; and then there was the recollection of when she was weaponized.

A deep shudder ran through her as she curled her legs closer to her chest, her breathing reaching almost hyperventilating levels as she tried to fight down the terror and panic. By the Neo-Walkers, the Almighty, and any Deity that truly was out there, it was like watching someone dismember you and be AWAKE through it all! In lieu of blood was oil, and yet every part ripped out might as well have been an appendage or organ! While a Robian was made of wires and metal they still had a ‘core’ representing their life-force. When Eggman was taking her apart and enjoying it, her ‘core vitals’ went crazy as if even as a machine her body and true mind knew of the violation being done to her. She nearly died just because Eggman wanted to be sadistic as he prepped her to be a killing machine against all she loved.

Even a week after being deroboticized, she couldn’t shake those vague but potent recollections. Sally was able to suppress and bury most of her trauma by focusing on deposing Naugus before he took the Kingdom down with him, but now that she was left alone to her thoughts; she couldn’t drown it all out.

So lost in her own mind, her ears didn’t even twitch as a familiar ‘sonic-boom’ echoed nearby, signaling the arrival of a certain someone. The flag on the pole she sat beside on the hill of FF Headquarters, began to wave and bob from the sudden gust of wind, along with her hair and vest. Yet Sally didn’t truly seem to pay attention any until a warm hand, gently settled on her shoulder.

“Yo Sal, you okay?! You’re shaking all over!” A concerned voice uttered as the hand moved from her shoulder, and now two entire arms began to gently wrap around her, pulling her into the lap of the owner of said arms. At the feel of his warmth behind her back, Sally instinctively nestled against him, and let out a shaky breath. “I-I’m okay Sonic, jus-just a little chilly is all.”

“Bullshi-er-baloney…” Quipped back the fastest Hedgehog alive as he self-censored himself from uttering a more potent and crass choice of phrase. As he gently rested his chin atop her head, Sonic softly began to gently sway his body, rocking Sally in their embrace as he sought to help her deal with her woes. “You can’t pull a fast one over on me, I know you Sally, and this?” He gestured to her entirely. “This ain’t the wind giving you chills.” His usual jovial tone was dialed all the way to deep concern as his hands remained locked around her waist. “Talk to me Sal, please talk to me.”

Swallowing hard, Sally none-the-less tried to ease his concern with false-assurance. Not easy when those emerald orbs looked at her like that. She loved his eyes but the way he looked at her with concern and love, it almost made things feel worse because she didn’t want him to worry about her. “It’s just a little shake, and bad memories I’ll be fine-.” Interrupting her, Sonic kept his tone even, but a firmness trickled in. “Sally, don’t play this off. Now isn’t the time to pretend you’re not hurting. We sent Naugus packin’ and Egg-butt is still reeling from his toys being broken. Right now the only thing this Hedgehog cares about is the well-being of the woman in my arms. You, numero uno, the one and only Princess Sally, Acorn. The woman I love.” His hand traced along her cheek, making her lip quiver. “You’re hurting, let me help you Sal, right now we have nothing to worry about but us right now. Don’t shut me out, not this time, or ever, please. Now’s the time to let it all out because we dunno when we might get another break.”

His pleas tugged at her heart-strings, his devotion and love for her making her feel wonderful; yet awful at the same time with how her conflicted mind felt. Yet those words she didn’t know she needed to hear, eroded what resistance had been left in Sally. She crumbled like a dam that had burst after too much neglect. Turning her body in his embrace, she buried her face into his neck and sobbed, and just gushed, everything in her spilling out in tandem with the hot tears, leaking from her eyes. “I still remember being weaponized, being taken apart piece by piece, Eggman not caring if he nearly killed me in the process. I saw my own limbs and other pieces just, discarded as he smiled and hummed to music!” A deep shudder ran through her body as she clung to Sonic even more. She began to hiccup but kept talking. “Then he sent me out after everyone… I wish it was a blur, but every image is potently burned into my brain! I remember being used against everyone… I-I almost killed you, my brother, Lupe, Antoine, everyone I cared for and loved… How I managed to not kill anyone I don’t know!”

Shaking her grip on him tightened as more hot tears rolled from her eyes, matting the fur of his shoulder and neck. “When I wasn’t out in the field he made plan out methods to attack the Kingdom, or how to use my knowledge of my friends to use psychological warfare to break you all… I was even tasked to come up with methods to-to assassinate everyone!” Her voice grew hoarse as the lump in her throat got worse, along with the hiccuping. “I made fifty plans for you alone…” 

Deep, burning anger, filled Sonic as much as his desire to comfort and console his best friend and love of his life. The latter won out, and so he mentally filed away his desire to race to wherever Eggman ran off too for the time being and pound his face into jelly. A rage that surpassed the killing desire he felt when fighting the original Robotnik one last time just burned in him, to the point it scared him. Mentally berating himself, Sonic tried to refocus his mind. Sally needed him, and not off fulfilling a vendetta. With one hand, he began to rub up and down her back gently, as the other rested against the back of her head; stroking her auburn tresses as she sobbed against him. “Oh, Sally…” Sonic wanted to make the pain all go away, but knowing he couldn’t just snap a finger and do so, the Hedgehog continued to cradle Sally in his arms.

Sonic was known for his fast-talking, use of quips, and using humor to play off the more dreary elements of what was going on. Keeping upbeat and focusing ahead and ready to move on without looking back much. This was not one of those times he could be flippant on the issue. Yet he wasn’t sure what to say, could he really say anything that could make it all better, even a little? He had to try. “That wasn’t you though-.”

Sally’s tear-stained face pulled away from Sonic’s chest, sending him a glare that could kill, if she didn’t look so emotionally wrecked. “Don’t bull-crap me Sonic Hedgehog, I remember doing all those things!! Me, all me! Eggman let me keep my free will so he could use my tactical prowess and memories and-.”

Interrupting her, Sonic let a low growl leave his throat as he shook his head fiercely. “That wasn’t you Sally Acorn!! I’ve been roboticized too, and I know how that song and dance went!” Shaking his head he placed a soft kiss to her forehead as he held her close still. “Buttnik didn’t give my mind as much leeway as Eggman gave you, but I wasn’t some common bot-job either. Point is you’re still programmed to follow their rules. Just like Robuttnik made me do as he wanted despite any freedom of tactical thinking he left me.” He grit his teeth trying to suppress both his memories of that time and his growing anger. 

“The same applies to you being made to follow that- that, F**King Egg-face’s orders!” He cried giving in and cursing, using a word even he rarely uttered which caused Sally to gasp and stare at him in shock. Something Sonic took advantage of to press on with his words. “Even if you were given some mental free-reign Eggman still wanted dominance and control, meaning he was still using you like a puppet. You were still doing things you did not want to do deep down, because the Sally I know, the Sally I love would never do any of that of her true free will.”

Lip quivering Sally sniffled again, her grip on him tightening some. A fresh wave of doubt, both of her current crisis and old ones creeping into her mind. “Sonic, why? Ho-how could you still love me after all I did? All that I put you and the others through-?”

He interrupted her again with a kiss, soft, and quick, after breaking it his hands gently frame her face. “Because I can, because I do love you, and want to help you through this. Just like you did for me after I was roboticized and used against you all. Remember I wanted to die, but you not only turned me back but helped me deal with the aftermath.” Gently ‘booping’ her nose, he flashed her one of his soft smiles. “I still owe you a makeup date since, well the last one got interrupted by all the blow-out from the Nicole paranoia.”

Softly hiccuping for a moment as she tried to compose herself, Sally found herself slowly smiling if just a thin one. “Even if your girlfriend is a mess? Sonic I-I don’t know if I can trust myself, even if a part of me knows you’re right…” Laying her hands over his, she shook as another wave of doubt and sadness took her. “That was still me, what if what I went through woke up some nasty side of me, a part of me that willingly became a monster to-to ‘get the job done’?”

Firming shaking his head, Sonic leans in, his nose touching hers as his emerald eyes stare into her soft blue peepers. “Then the monster’s gonna have’ta deal with having me around to poke her or wag a finger in her direction. That said I don’t think there’s a monster, just the most amazing woman ever doubting herself. I understand some of what you’re going through Sal, and what I don’t I’m still here to help you along the way. We’ll get through this together like we always do.”

A true, warm, and wide smile crept onto Sally’s face before outright overtaking it. Leaning closer, her forehead, and his touch as she let herself be lost in his emerald gaze. “I don’t deserve you.”

Making a ‘hmm’ of deep thought, the hedgehog just flashed his trademark cocky smile back at her. “Hmm, judges say that’s hogwash. I think the Princess deserves nice things.”

Sally lifted an eyebrow, her mouth quivering as she barely withheld making a ‘snerk’ sound. “So you’re a nice thing?”

“Ten out of ten agree, when you go Sonic, you don’t go back.” He chimed in a sing-song, cheesy tone. Just happy to see her expression lighting up.

A happy laugh left Sally’s lips as she slid her arms around his neck. “I’ll give you that, I’d be lying saying otherwise.” Leaning closer, still staring into Sonic’s eyes, Sally craned her head to the side still leaning in. “I still think I don’t deserve you-.” “Sal-.” She put a finger to his lips. “However, I am very, very happy that you still love and want me even with all my flaws, and baggage.” “Like I’m not flawed-?” She interrupted him again, “Not finished, the bottom line is- oh screw it! I love you too, now kiss me!”’ Deciding words weren’t enough and anything else she said would be a mere retread of words already spoken. She removed her finger from his lips and closed the distance. Planting a big, ol’ wet, and hungry kiss against the Hedgehog’s lips. To which Sonic’s only response was to make a surprised if pleased sound and eagerly return the kiss. Each tightening their hold on the other as the sun fully began to set, and soon the sky lit up with fire-works from the celebration in the city. Almost as if to mirror the setting sun, giving way to the moon and the night; their kissing grew more passionate. Simple lip-to-lip meshing gave way to dueling tongues and their grip on each other began to pet and rub at the skin under their fur, as a heat grew between them.

Shrugging a shoulder, Sally let her vest start to fall off. Noticing this, Sonic started to grasp the article to help slide it back in place, but one of her hands grasped his wrist to stop him. “Don’t.” She pleaded, heat in her voice, her still tear-wet eyes opening to look into his. “I need you Sonic, I want to feel you all of you, kissing me, holding me, on me, in me…” Her soft words carried a mix of soft pleas from the inner turmoil she still felt; intermingled with a sensual huskiness that underlined her desire to be loved and make the pain go away.

Any argument about being out in the open, died without Sonic even uttering the thoughts. Certainly, the concern of being walked upon was there; as far from prying eyes as Freedom Fighter HQ was, they were sitting on top of the grassy hill on top of it. Anyone could wander by and get, well one hell of a show. 

Sally’s loving, needy gaze, and soft pleas killed any objections as Sonic, helped her remove the vest and their kissing resumed. It was probably in their favor that the fireworks show went on as long as it did, dulling out sounds, a pretty distraction and if both Sally and Sonic were, to be honest, ambiance to the oldest dance they were engaged in without a care in the world besides each other.

Robotnik couldn’t destroy them, and neither would Eggman, they would endure as long as they had each other.