#i should do another sato draws
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forgetitbeam · 1 year ago
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crimson-mage-02 · 6 months ago
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Ultraman Rising
To The Stars and Beyond
Chapter 1: Bitter Reunion
Summary: Ken Sato has come back to Japan from LA to assume the role of Ultraman. While fulfilling his responsibilities as Ultraman, he has taken in a baby kaiju he discovered when Gigantron escaped from the KDF. Unexpectedly, he encounters his childhood friend and crush, Mireya Sayuri, an aspiring artist and photographer. However, their friendship is strained. Will their bond be reignited, or will it develop into something more?
A/N: Posting this again on Tumblr! This is my very first Ultraman Rising fanfic, I do hope that you will all like it as much as I do! After watching Ultraman Rising on Netflix, I became obsessed with Ken Sato and I just got started to write my own fanfic!
Anyway, enough of me babbling, please do enjoy reading my fic! There will be more chapters coming up soon! Hope you'll enjoy this fanfic as much as I do!
He was exhausted from looking after the baby. He was tired! Baseball, practice, watching over her, and making sure she gets fed. She does everything a human baby does! They never stop! He sighed deeply as he walked out of the elevator. A small smile crept onto his face as he discovered her peacefully sleeping in the basement. He took a sip of his coffee after a moment. Ken looked at the time from his watch and saw it was only 7 pm.
Ken pondered his options while the baby was asleep soundly. “Ken, if you want, I can watch over her, and you have some time for yourself.” Mina offered.
His eyes widened slightly and turned to the smooth orb beside him. “You sure, Mina? I don’t mind staying a bit longer.”
“I am sure. Go have some time for yourself.” Mina replied.
Ken pondered over the thought and glanced at the baby before sipping more of his coffee. A break wouldn’t be so bad. He shrugged. “Well, uh, I guess I would have some me time then. If something does happen, ping me.”
“Of course.” Mina nodded before turning her full attention to Emi.
After an hour of preparation, Ken rode his motorcycle around. He longed for Japan - the lights, the scenery, the food, everything. He cherished it. It was also where he met his first friend. He often pondered about her whereabouts and well-being. He parked his motorcycle in front of a museum.
Ken took off his helmet and entered wearing a baseball cap. He preferred not to attract attention when out. While he enjoyed his fans, sometimes it became overwhelming. He sought out places with fewer crowds. He strolled through the museum displays before heading to the art section. Ken grinned at the memory of accidentally spilling paint on his best friend, who then retaliated by splattering some on his face. He noticed photographers capturing a painting.
He stepped aside, allowing others to view the painting. Ken tilted his head to get a better look. His smile widened upon seeing a painting of a traditional Japanese temple surrounded by cherry blossoms at night.
Turning to the side, he noticed a lone woman gazing at a painting of the night sky with comets streaking across. He stood quietly beside her, appreciating the artwork in silence.
In the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar woven keychain on a purse and caught a glimpse of her face before she turned away to look at another painting on the wall. Ken reached out but hesitated, not wanting to draw attention from the other people inside. He clenched his fists in his pocket. Kenji walked around the bench and lowered his head. He wasn’t sure whether he should talk to her after everything he had said during their childhood. Her name was Mireya Sayuri. She was his first friend in Japan, and she never judged him for who he was. And he never judged her for who she was.
He once saved her from bullies who were mocking her for looking different. Kenji defended her from all the bullies, and they became the closest of friends. They used to play together constantly. Even their mother’s scheduled playdates before he moved to LA. One day, he felt remorse for hurting her feelings and never had the opportunity to ask for her forgiveness.
Ken managed to sneak through the crowd, deciding it wasn't worth approaching her. He observed her heading towards the painting of the temple he had seen earlier and then noticed the signature in the corner. She had fulfilled her dream of becoming a painter. He smiled proudly and admired the painting once more. This was her night, her special event. Ken turned around and unintentionally collided with a server, his eyes widening as the drinks spilled on Mireya's dress, ruining her special night.
All of the guests gasped in shock and the security guard came to her aid. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry!” Ken immediately apologised.
He heard her softly sigh before their eyes finally locked. He found himself captivated by her brown eyes. He was about to say something, but she glared at him. “So, you came here to ruin this event because you heard I was here?”
Ken frowned, taken aback by her fearless demeanour and then scoffed. “W-What? No!”
Mireya rolled her eyes and left even before he even attempted to apologise. He groaned lightly. “Dang it! Mireya! Reya, wait––“
“Sato-san! Can you please sign my autograph?”
“Could we please take a photo together?”
Ken found himself surrounded by fans and guests inside the museum. Just as he longed for some peace, he also looked forward to reuniting with his childhood friend, who had grown into a successful and talented artist. It was shaping up to be a long night for him, and he yearned to return home, away from the bustling crowd.
Hours later after returning home, he looked through the albums that his mom put together. Ken chuckled when he saw a photo of him and Mireya playing at the beach, playing baseball with his dad. He brushed his fingers against the photograph with a wave of nostalgia.
“Hey, Mina?”
“Yes, Ken?”
Ken closed the album and set it on the floor next to him. “Did––Did you know Mireya had to move?”
“I am sorry, Ken. But I didn’t know that she moved away.” Mina replied.
Ken sighed softly and rubbed his eyes, stood up to his feet and rested his hands on his hips. “Ugh, I ruined her special night and now, she won’t talk or look at me now.”
“Perhaps, you should talk to her again and apologise to her,” Mina suggested.
Ken scoffed softly, shaking his head. “No, after tonight, she might not want to talk to me at all. Besides, she has her own life and I have my own.”
(~)
Ken winced in pain and massaged his shoulder. His game today was not going very well. He could barely keep his eyes open and couldn’t catch the ball. He was still exhausted after watching over the baby kaiju in the containment unit.
Right now, he could use a nice and cold bath to––“WHOA!” Ken stopped his bike when he saw Mireya right in front of his house and he was gonna crash into her if he didn’t stop in time. “What the hell, Reya?!”
“Don’t call me Reya.” Mireya crossed her arms.
Ken sighed sharply before taking off his helmet and running his hand through his hair. He chuckled nervously. “Hi.” He sat on his motorcycle in silence before he glanced at his house. “Do you...I don’t know, want some curry? I could cook. Just like the way our moms cooked––“
“I came here to give you all these,” Mireya said interrupting him and grabbing a box filled with his old childhood toys and books.
Ken frowned. “What? Wait, Rey––Mireya! Please, look I am sorry about the other night. I-I didn’t know that you were back in Japan. I-I missed you.”
“Missed me? After everything you’ve said?” Mireya asked, clearly hurt by what he had done. “You said you wouldn’t be friends with someone like me. Well, after seeing you on TV, I would not be friends with a cocky, selfish, ignorant, hot-tempered and egotistical man like you.”
Ken scowled, overwhelmed with anger and frustration before releasing it all. “Well, I wouldn’t like to be friends with someone who left without saying a word and abandoned me! You didn’t even bother to tell me, your only best friend, what was going on! Maybe you were just too afraid to even say it to my face!”
Silence and tension filled the air as his eyes widened in shock and dread of what he had said. Mireya gasped in shock at his words, which only served to worsen the situation. Ken's shoulders tensed; his eyes filled with guilt looking into Mireya’s brown eyes. “Reya, oh my god, I––“
Before he could apologise, he was slapped by Mireya in the face hard. He looked back at her as she breathed heavily and walked back to her car. Ken watched her drive away in her car before he let out a frustrated yell and kicked the ground in anger. Could his life get any worse?!
Later, following his brief interaction with Mireya, he released some tension by practising baseball swings in the basement. The confrontation during today's game and their argument only fuelled his emotions further. Ken shouted out and swung his bat until the virtual simulation vanished, leaving him facing the infant's and Mina's worried gazes.
He breathed heavily and steadily, then closed his eyes to calm himself down. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“It is alright, Ken. I understand that your reunion with your childhood friend wasn’t all that you hoped for.” Mina said.
Ken shook his head. “It’s fine, Mina. It was my fault. All I do is make her even more mad at me. She’s different now, Mina. She was shy when I met her. Now she’s feisty, stubborn and well, hard-headed.”
“And so, did you like her back then?” Mina wondered.
Ken sat back down on the couch before looking back at Mina. He opened his mouth to answer her but didn’t get the words out. He sighed softly and buried his face in his hands. He remembered he had a crush on her. Okay, a huge crush on her. And looking at her now, god, she looked even more beautiful. Talented and feisty.
Ken leaned back on the couch and nodded. “I...I did. But that’s in the past, cause we’re not friends anymore after our big fight from earlier. I am Ken Sato, a famous baseball player. I don’t need her or talk to her anymore.”
(~)
The next morning, he fed the baby kaiju before he went for his photoshoot with his team. He needed to look good but still felt very sore after doing his Ultraman duties that he never wanted to do but he was asked by his mom to take up the mantle after his dad retired and got himself hurt. He walked through the hallways before his eyes widened when he saw Mireya was with the photography crew.
Why today of all days?! He sighed steadily and nodded to himself. He’s got this. He can do this. Ken approached the photography crew and greeted them politely before his eyes landed on Mireya who had a neutral expression.
All day he had tried to talk to her but she wouldn’t go anywhere near her. So, that goes to show that she doesn’t want to talk with him. Maybe it was for the best. Ken was in the locker room, taking a break and heard his teammates speaking among themselves and crowded the door.
He raised an eyebrow at them. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Miss Sayuri is in the hallway, check it out. She looks hot!” exclaimed one of his teammates chuckling softly.
Ken tightened his jaw and gazed down the hallways, where Mireya was engaged in conversation with the other photographers and crew members. He noted her outfit and watched as she sorted through some photographs. He could see her dedication to her work and couldn't help but smile to himself at how much she had matured and...become more beautiful. Wait, was he really thinking that? He let out a soft groan and shifted his attention to his teammates, who were also watching her.
“So, you think she has a boyfriend or what?”
“She’s not married either. I see no ring.”
Ken couldn't explain why he felt protective of her. He disliked how other men in the hallways stared at her as if she were a prize. However, he couldn't intervene. He and she were not on speaking terms and were unlikely to become friends again.
“Alright, you lot. Get ready for your photos. Sato, you are with Miss Sayuri.” Coach Shimura announced before instructing the other players to go into separate rooms to go on with their photoshoots.
Kenji turned to Mireya who also looked shocked that she would be the one to handle his photos. He could hear his teammates groaning and muttering in disappointment. He could feel his heart beating rapidly but he shook it off before putting a smirk on his face.
“Hey...looks like we’ll be paired off for the photos.” Ken winked at her. “Looks like we’re stuck together.”
Mireya rolled her eyes. “Mr Sato, if you could follow me please.”
Ken kept quiet and followed her to one of the private rooms. He saw all types of equipment in the room and then saw her laptop filled with photos of the Giants, Coach Shimura and him warming up in the field.
“Wow, these look good.” Ken complimented.
Silence filled the room and he glanced over his shoulder before sighing softly and taking off his helmet. “Mireya. Look, I want to apologise for what I’ve said. It was...uncalled for and I shouldn’t have said it. I was so angry at myself and I...” He sighed sharply. “I’m trying here.”
He saw her turning around with her hand on her hip and leaning against the table behind her. “And I should be apologising for slapping you in the face.”
Ken chuckled softly and waved it off. “Well, I do deserve that slap, though. That was a really good one, I should say.”
Mireya chuckled and bit her lips. “You have changed, have you?”
“Changed?” Ken playfully placed his hand over his chest. “Baby girl, I haven’t changed a single bit. I’m still the same Kenji you knew. But as a famous baseball player, that is.”
Ken heard her chuckling softly and saw her rolling her eyes before he was handed a baseball bat. He stared down into her eyes and realised how much he had grown a bit taller than she was now. He could see her brown eyes clearly and the world just stopped when they stood close to one another.
Mireya cleared her throat. “Um, just stand in front of the paper and we’ll get started.”
“Y-Yeah. I’ll do that.” Kenji nodded and stood in front of the sheets. “So, should I pose or...?”
“Whenever you are ready,” Mireya replied, grabbing her camera.
Ken nodded and posed with the bat resting on the back of his neck. His feet were apart, and he smiled while winking at her. He could tell she enjoyed seeing his confidence. She snapped photos continuously while Kenji switched to another position, holding the bat as if he were about to hit the ball.
After a few minutes, the photo session concluded, and Ken examined the photos with a smirk. “Wow, these are amazing!”
“Thank you, Mr Sato.” Mireya smiled softly.
“Reya, come on, no need for formalities when we do know each other.” Ken grinned at her.
Mireya shook her head with amusement. “You are one to never give up and like to challenge.”
Ken shrugged with a smirk on his face. “You know me too well, Reya. Now, what are you going to do with these?”
“They’ll be printed for the magazine. Later on, we’ll do a group photo with your teammates and Coach Shimura out in the field.” Mireya explained as she cleared up the table until her notebook fell on the floor.
Kenji and Mireya both bent down to grab the book and had their hands touching one another. He looked up at her and saw her looking down at their hands before gazing at him. He didn’t realise how close their faces were. He gulped softly and gazed at her lips, slowly leaning in before he heard a knock on the door.
“Mire? Are you about finished? Everyone is getting ready for the photoshoot in the field.”
“Um, yes we are!” Mireya answered and stood up while rubbing her hands together nervously.
Kenji stood up and passed her notebook back to her gently. “Here.”
“Thank you.” Mireya grabbed her notebook back before putting it back in her bag.
(~)
Later after practice and the photoshoot, Ken waited near the entrance on his motorbike and saw Mireya coming out with her co-workers. He put his hands in his pockets and approached her. “Hey, good work out there.”
“And you too, Mr––Ken.” Mireya chuckled nervously.
“Ah, see you remember to call me by my name. I’m touched.” Kenji playfully smirked at him.
Mireya rolled her eyes yet again before crossing her arms again. “What do you need Ken? The photoshoot is over. You are free to go home.”
“Well, I thought, maybe I don’t know, go to Tonkatsu Tonki, the same place we used to go with our moms. It’s my treat.” Kenji offered. He hoped to talk more and wanted to ease the tension between them.
“Oh, uh, I already made plans with my friends. I’m sorry.” Mireya apologised, pushing back her hair behind her ear.
Ken nodded in understanding and waved it off. “Nah, it’s okay, I understand. Figured you would spend your time with your friends.”
Then he saw a taller man walking up to Mireya and frowned at him, felt a pang of jealousy coursing through his veins and turned to his childhood best friend. “I’m sorry who are you?”
“Oh, I am Daisuke. One of Mireya’s assistants. I heard about you, Ken Sato.” Daisuke introduced himself.
Ken reluctantly shook his hand before turning towards Mireya who smiled awkwardly. He could tell she was uncomfortable and tried to move away from Daisuke’s grasp. He clenched his fists in his pocket and turned to Daisuke. “You heard of me?”
“Yeah, also, great game out there. It’s a shame no one can see the great Ken Sato continue his game when that monster appeared.” Daisuke chuckled.
“Heck, yeah, it was a great game until the kaiju interrupted it.” Ken remained composed, resisting the urge to confront or physically harm him for causing Mireya distress. “So, you and Mireya are friends?”
“Friends?” Daisuke scoffed. “She and I go way back. The two of us will catch up, won’t we darling?”
Ken glanced at Mireya, who gazed into his eyes as if silently seeking help. He became entranced by her eyes before Daisuke approached her, attempting to kiss her with a smirk. That was the last straw. Ken was about to punch Daisuke until he witnessed Mireya kneeing Daisuke in the groin.
“Oh....why?” Daisuke whined bending down, holding his crotch in pain.
Ken’s eyes widened and a smirk grew on his face. He was impressed by this change and he was proud that Mireya stood up for herself against the guy. In the corner of his eye, he saw Mireya’s friends coming to join in kicking his ass.
Once Daisuke was gone, Mireya let out a sigh of relief and he turned towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder gently. “You okay?”
Mireya nodded slowly. “I will be.”
Kenji watched Mireya’s friends scare Daisuke off. He sighed and turned towards her. “Let me take you home.”
“Oh, no it’s fine.” Mireya shook her head.
Kenji frowned and crossed his arms. “Seriously. It’s the least I could do.”
“I hope you are aware that I can look after myself.” Mireya mirrored his stance with her arms crossed.
Ken grinned, appreciating her sass and determination. He knew that she would be stubborn to ask for help. He chuckled and shook his head in amusement before stepping closer to her, just a few feet apart. “Well, I do not like you walking home alone.”
Mireya huffed and turned to her friends who silently encouraged her to go with him. He smirked before chuckling softly. “Your friends seem to agree with me.”
She rolled her eyes and ran her hand through her long hair. She couldn’t believe what was happening right now. “Fine! Fine! I’ll go with you. Only to get you to get off my back.”
Ken smirked triumphantly before grabbing a spare helmet from his motorcycle. It was a small white helmet and showed it to her. “Here...A spare helmet so your pretty head won’t get injured.”
She grabbed the helmet from his hand, and he chuckled in amusement. Ken donned his helmet and mounted his bike with her behind him. “Okay, hold on.”
“To what?” Mireya raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t you trust me, baby girl?” Ken winked at her, teasing her.
The response he got from Mireya was a slap on his head. He let out a breathy chuckle and revved up his bike. “Just wrap your arms around my waist. And I promise I won’t let you fall, baby girl.”
“Don’t call me, baby girl.” Mireya huffed, wrapping her arms around his waist.
The strength in her arms almost made him lose his balance on the motorcycle. He was unsure why his heart was racing. He released a calm breath. Ken focused on safely taking her home. “You might wanna hold on and navigate me where your house is, okay?”
Ken drove through downtown and returned Mireya to her home. He parked his motorcycle in front of her house, removed his helmet, and then turned to assist her in dismounting. “Nice digs.”
“Says the guy you live in a mansion across Tokyo Bay.” Mireya took off the spare helmet and ran her hand through her hair.
Ken chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. He did own a house overlooking Tokyo Bay, appreciating its tranquillity. It was preferable to his residence in LA. He glanced towards Mireya's house and whistled. “Your house has style. I like it.”
Mireya chuckled softly and crossed her arms before sighing softly, looking up at her house with a soft smile. “Yeah, it is nice.”
Ken smiled and strummed his fingers on his helmet. He rubbed his neck. “So, uh, yeah, great work. For the photoshoot, I mean. Guess, I’ll see you again?”
“And have your face be the first thing I would ever see? How lovely.” Mireya said sarcastically before walking inside her house.
Ken chuckled with a grin on his face. “Baby girl, you do love to destroy my ego, don’t you?”
He saw her turning around with her hand on her hip. Ken smirked at her and leaned forward on his motorcycle. He enjoyed riling her up like this. This type of banter reminded him of their childhood and he missed her. He missed being with her and wanted to rekindle their friendship.
“What I do enjoy is not seeing your face all the time and not having you flirt with me.” Mireya mirrored his smirk.
Ken chuckled and shook his head. He relished the banter they shared and admired her newfound sassiness. Once a timid girl, she had blossomed into a bold and self-assured woman. He was also proud that she had come so far in pursuing her dreams. He knew she was a talented woman. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Reya.”
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sepdet · 2 months ago
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OK, I just tagged something "Microsquat shooting itself in the foot," so, in the spirit of "I'm not immune to the propaganda," I'm unearthing one of 500 half-finished rants from the drafts folder, where most rants belong.
Let's see if I can de-rantify it.
Audience: US Tumblr. The rest of y'all, feel free to chime in with, "What the fuck, US Tumblr?"
What set this off: A post saying we should give a gun to real Doge's owner to shoot Elon Musk (which I started to agree with before catching myself, remembering she's a schoolteacher who campaigns for pet adoption) — a post which I saw soon after one that joked the Ents were Tolkien saying we should give trees guns.
Both were jokes, and here I am taking them seriously. But the things people joke about tell us something.
And what that those jokes told me is that they had to have been made by US Tumblr— someone younger than GenX, because we grew up before school shootings, active shooter drills, and the whole teach-kids-fear-of-death-before-we-tell-them-where-babies-come-from dystopia that is modern America.
Not that we didn't have a dystopia like that, too. No, not the Cold War. A narrative.
We had "cigarette culture" and the Marlboro Man. Parents, bus and taxi drivers smoked while driving, restaurants and planes were hazy. TV characters smoked in every genre (even Starbuck and Boomer on Battlestar Galactica).
There were candy cigarettes, but new dads handed out cigars. Children doodled cartoon characters smoking or cigarettes on the lips of people in magazines, and mimed smoking with invisible cigarettes or rolled-up paper or twigs and toothpicks. I did it, even though cig smoke made me nauseous and gave me migraines.
Sounds crazy, doesn't it? Cultural zeitgeist gets into your head.
Which is probably why US Tumblr folks so easily imagine a gentle person like Atsuko Sato with a gun, in a culture where gun crime is extremely rare, and gun culture is nonexistent. And it's why a US fan would miss Treebeard's rants about Saruman [having] "a mind of metal and wheels; he does not care for growing things.” That conflict was nature vs. the machine, especially the industry of war.
So what?
My point is that people in the US under the age of 40-50 have been so acclimatized to gun culture we're liable to impose it on media whose authors do not share that culture. It's like drawing Studio Ghibli characters smoking cigars. Ok for a joke, but USians don't realize how odd it is.
So, maybe, those of us from the US should make a mental note to watch and see when we use gun metaphor or imagery (as if we don't have enough to worry about): am I letting my US gun culture show? Am I imposing GUN on somebody/something in another culture where GUN is not a place people's minds often go?
Because that's One Weird Trick we do.
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writingwhimsey · 11 months ago
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All's Fair In Love & War- Motonari
Here we are with the long awaited first chapter of the next installment of my All's Fair in Love & War series! Suitor this round is my number one husband, Motonari! I hope you all enjoy this first chapter! Hope you all enjoy this fic as much as you did Nobunaga's "route."
You can read the prologue here (parts 1, 2, & 3)
Chapter 1
It was the day after my alliance with Nobunaga became official. We would be attending a banquet later that night to celebrate. Until then, Sato, Jiro, and I were all checking out Azuchi castle town. Mitsunari had been kind enough to volunteer to be our guide.
“Wow, this town is quite amazing.” Sato said as she looked around. 
“The variety of goods here is truly amazing.” I said. 
“That is because of the policies Lord Nobunaga has enacted.” Mitsunari informed us.
It was then that I recalled that Nobunaga was considered a bit of a radical during this time. “I can tell that they are very effective.” I agreed. “While we’re here we should work out some trade with some of these merchants.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful.” Mitsunari said. “And I bet you could get Lord Hideyoshi to help. Everyone in town loves Lord Hideyoshi.”
“You mean he’s not suspicious of everyone?” I asked.
Jiro looked at me. “My lord, you do have to admit, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of suspicion and caution.”
“I know. I’m just saying I was invited here by Nobunaga himself. He should trust his lord.” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“Don’t take Lord Hideyoshi’s suspicion to heart, Lord Ava.” Mitsunari said. “He just wants to do his best to serve Lord Nobunaga and truly believes in his vision and wants to see it through. I am sure in time you will earn his trust.”
“I hope so. I find it irksome for an alliance to be healthy with such suspicion.” I replied.
The four of us continued to walk through the town. Mitsunari had decided to take us to a tea house to enjoy a nice break. We were all sitting down and enjoying the tea and a few sweets, Mitsunari speaking with us about Azuchi, but also asking us about my territory…and even discussing strategy with me. He was quite knowledgeable and very interested in what I had to say. He was particularly interested in the strategy I used to defeat the Ishihara.
We were having our nice little chat when it was interrupted by another patron in the tea house. “I will not pay that, especially for such swill!” A rather large man declared rather loudly. “Besides, I am a warrior. I keep the area safe for all. You should be falling on your knees to serve me!”
“I am sorry, but…well this is a business and…I do need to make money…” The proprietor tried to protest.
“Well, I don’t care. You should be eager to serve me. You should be happy someone like me would even come in here.”
“Uh-oh.” Jiro mumbled as he looked between the scene unfolding and back at me. He could see me seething.
“THAT IS IT!” I shouted as I stood up to face the man supposed warrior. “YOU need to pay this man for his FINE tea and most excellent sweets.”
The man turned to me, looking at me with a derisive snort. “You’re awfully fired up for such a little slip of a woman.” He said. “I won’t be paying this man. But I might consider paying you for a night in my bed.”
“Oh, he just signed his death warrant.” Sato murmured.
“I should say something…” Mitsunari said.
Sato and Jiro both shook their heads. “No. Don’t worry about Lord Ava. She can handle herself.” Sato assured.
“You’d only get in her way.” Jiro agreed.
I gave the man a look, deciding to look him up and down, as if appraising him. “Please, you’re not man enough.” I told him. “I doubt any woman could be paid enough to suffer a night with the likes of you.”
The man looked at me belligerent. “How dare you…I’ve had plenty of women walk away satisfied. I bet I could make you scream just like them!”
“From boredom right?” I replied. I was then drawing my sword and pointing it at the man. “Now listen, if you have enough that you THINK you could pay any woman to sleep with you, then you certainly have enough to pay for your food and your tea.”
“Oh, you think you know how to use that, little lady?” The man asked, looking at my sword, not at all threatened.
“I know my way around a sword better than you, of that I am certain.” I replied.
The man glared at me as he drew his own sword. “I am starting to get annoyed with you, you little bitch.”
“I’ve been annoyed with you from the beginning.” I replied.
The man lifted his sword ready to strike. I easily dodged the blow. It was clumsy and obvious. Of course, I also wanted to get the man out of the tea house. Away from the civilians. So I kept dodging his clumsy blows until I had led him outside.
Once we were outside, I kept dodging his attacks, studying his movements and waiting for my moment to strike. Men like him were so easy. “You quite running away!” The man shouted at me.
“Oh? You always have this hard of a time catching a woman?” I taunted.
He let out a growl as he lunged for in his next attack. I blocked his blow with my sword this time. He was already starting to wear out. 
“Look at you…is that sweat I see? If THIS exhausts you, I don’t see how you could ever last long enough to satisfy a woman.” I replied. “I’m not even breaking a sweat.”
“You little bitch!”
The man and I fought, me using his own momentum to block and redirect his blows. Once our blades were locked, I delivered a kick to his soft belly and then headbutted his chin. As he was falling, I gave him a few more blows before knocking him out with a blow from the handle of my sword.
By this point, we had drawn a crowd…which included Hideyoshi coming out of it. “What in the world is going on here?” He asked.
Sato, Jiro, Mitsunari, and the owner of the teahouse were all coming up then as they had come out. “I was just taking care of some riff raff.” I answered.
“What? You…you knocked this man out?” Hideyoshi asked, looking down at the fallen man. 
“Yes. He was trying to skip out on paying his bill and trying to intimidate one of your citizens.” I replied. I was then kneeling down and grabbing the coin purse off his waist and tossing it at the owner of the tea house. “I think that should cover his bill.”
“Thank you.” The tea shop owner replied.
“Lord Ava was truly amazing, Lord Hideyoshi. She stepped in before anyone else even had a chance.” Mitsunari spoke up. “I witnessed the entire thing.”
Hideyoshi was staring at the downed man, his eyes wide in disbelief. He then looked back to me. “Are you crazy?”
“Pardon?” I asked.
“That man was easily more than twice your size! He could have crushed you!” Hideyoshi scolded.
I blinked at him. “Wait…are…are you scolding me?” I asked, trying to keep from laughing.
“Yes, that is dangerous.” Hideyoshi replied.
I was smirking. “Look, I am a big girl Hideyoshi. I can take care of myself.”
“She really was quite amazing.” Mitsunari said. “She defeated him like it was nothing. That was truly amazing Lord Ava. Your technique for turning his own attacks against him.”
“Why thank you Mitsunari.” I replied.
“She’s always like this.” Jiro explained to Hideyoshi. “I’ve been trying to get her to cool it down for years…but well, there’s really no changing her.”
Hideyoshi sighed. “Well…thank you for standing up for my people.”
“Yes, thank you so much.” The proprietor said, bowing to me. “It truly means a lot.”
“It was nothing. Anyone else would do the same.” I replied.
Hideyoshi was calling some guards to come and take the unconscious warrior away before we were all returning to the castle together. Hideyoshi thanked me again before going to report to Nobunaga, while I headed to my room to get ready for the banquet.
A couple of hours later…
It was time for the banquet. I headed to the main hall with Jiro and Sato at my side. As soon as we entered the hall, a delicious aroma hit our noses. “Mmmm…smells amazing in here.” I said.
“I would hope so. I spent all day making this feast.” Masamune declared. “Now you better get over here and eat as much as you’d like. Can;t have all if this good food going to waste.”
“I would never waste a good meal.” I replied, moving to take the seat beside Masamune.
Sato and Jiro took seats beside Mitsunari and we were all soon feasting together and sake flowed. Though I did notice Masamune stuck with water. “So, lass, Hideyoshi and MItsunari told us all about your fight in town today.” Masamune said, eyeing me with his one good eye.
“Yes, I commend you on taking care of such a troublesome person in my town.” Nobunaga said.
I took a sip of my sake and shrugged. “It was nothing. He was an unskilled moron who just wanted to trample on those he thought were lesser than him. I just taught him the lesson that he wasn’t as amazing as he thought he was.”
“You shouldn’t sell yourself short like that, Lord Ava.” Mitsunari spoke up. “It was truly amazing what you accomplished.”
“It was reckless is what it was.” Hideyoshi said. “He was so much larger than you. He could have just sat on you and crushed you!”
“There’s a reason my lord is known as the Tiny Terror of the Yamada clan.” Sato spoke up.
“A name she has truly earned.” Jiro agreed. “She’s certainly been terrorizing me ever since she arrived.”
I just grinned. “I do strive to terrorize those who deserve it.”
“Are you saying I deserve it, my lord?” Jiro asked.
“Only at times.” I answered.
“I can’t believe we have another hothead who charges in.” Ieyasu grumbled. “Do you know how many more injuries that causes ME to have to tend to? I’m constantly having to treat this idiot.” He was gesturing to Masamune.
Masamune just grinned and threw his arm around Ieyasu’s shoulders. “Ah, now come on lad. You haven’t had to treat THAT many injuries on me.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Ieyasu. When I return from battle covered in blood, it;s not my own.” I replied.
“I never said I was worried about you. I just don’t want the inconvenience of having to look after you when you get injured.”
“That falls to me and Jiro.” Sato said. “Though just as my lord said, she returns uninjured.”
“Yes, Lady Kaede used to fret every time we returned.” Jiro said. “Lord Riku always looked proud.”
I had a bittersweet smile on my face recalling my parents. “They did indeed.” I said.
“I have heard that you are undefeated in battle.” Nobunaga declared, eyeing me over his sake cup.
I smiled, partially grateful for the change of subject from my parents, but also because I knew this was more of a test. Seeing about the truth of the rumors about me. “Indeed I am.” I replied. 
“I still don’t understand how someone as small as you can be undefeated like that.” Hideyoshi said. He appeared to have a couple of drinks in him by this point. 
“I may be small, but my mind is my sharpest weapon.” I replied. “I work my strategies and use my opponents' own strengths against them. My father taught me well.”
“I can see that in the way I witnessed you fighting that man today.” Mitsunari said. “Your moves used little energy on your part and turned his own momentum against him.”
“I’d like to see that in action myself.” Masamune said. He was then leaning in closer. “Lots of ways I’d like to see you in action, lass.”
I rolled my eyes as I shoved Masamune away. “I’d be happy to give you a sparring match, but that’s the only action you’ll be getting from me.”
Masamune chuckled. “You are going to be a fun one, lass.”
Sato, Jiro, and I spent the evening feasting and drinking with our new allies. There was lots of laughter and joking and teasing thrown around as well. This alliance seemed like it was going to be a pretty good fit. The Oda forces were an entertaining group for certain.
Meanwhile somewhere on the outskirts of town…
A maid from the castle had snuck out under the cover of darkness. She made her way out of town and to the edge of the forest, where a loan figure stood bathed in the moonlight, white hair practically glowing. “Ya weren’t followed, were ya?” The man asked, red eyes fierce as he looked at her.
The maid shook her head. “No. I made sure.” She answered.
“So, what news ya got fer me today?” He asked. “Better be somethin’ more useful than what Nobunaga had fer breakfast.”
“W-well…a new lord has joined the Oda forces.” She answered. “They’re having a banquet right now to celebrate the new alliance.”
“Who is it?” 
“The new Lord Yamada.” The maid answered.
Red eyes narrowed. “The hell that woman thinks she’s doin’ joinin’ Nobunaga?” He growled.
“So…you know her?” The maid asked, hesitantly her eyes wide.
“I know of lots of people.” He replied. “I’m Motonari Mouri. I know who all the power players are.”
“R-right…I’m sorry.”
“Get outta here.” Motonari replied, practically shouting in anger at the woman. “‘Fore I change my mind and kill ya.”
The maid didn’t say another word. She quickly ran off, heading back for the village. She wold run away and never look back.
Motonari raked a gloved hand through his hair in agitation. “How dare she.” He growled. He paced back and forth for a moment, thoughts swirling around in his head. Then he grinned as a new plan began to form in his mind. “This just might work…I can make this work to my advantage.”
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pleaseshutupaboutsatou · 1 year ago
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I love your artstyle soooo much. I was just wondering if you ever draw sato alone or in a comic bc i love him so much
Thank you!
Yeah, I do and I have. He's one of my favorite characters but last time I got to draw him was for Ajin week. I've contemplated some ideas for him but I've been jumping from one thing to another this year.
You can see what I've drawn 6 months ago and before here on my art blog: https://cloverdraws.tumblr.com/tagged/satou
You can also just jump to it on my pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/219143
Everything with this character has him in it; R-18 content though btw but that should be tagged - 佐
If you want to check the rest of pixiv, here's his tag - 佐藤(あじん)
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pigeons-svtfoe-au · 6 years ago
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aye yeah Rune don’t be like that Sato’s nice
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fanfic-gallery · 3 years ago
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Happy birthday! Would you do a birthday scenario where Todoroki Shoto accidentally ruins the surprise of the surprise party class 1A is throwing for his girlfriend?
Did I do something wrong?
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✎ Todoroki x Reader
✎ It was a surprise when you realized Shoto had slipped out that he really shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight
✎ Tags: fluff, platonic class 1-A, f! reader
: ̗̀➛ Manger’s/Author’s note: He would do this- like there's no excuse, he would and will! But that's just what makes him so adorable. And thank you Anon, your request is much appreciated <33
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"Todoroki kun!" Shoto rolled his head back, a familiar freckled face catching his attention. "Midoriya?" A smile tugged upon the green haired boy's lips, his fingers fiddling with one another. "Could you do us a little favor?" Eyes blinking in curiosity, a slow nod making Izuku beam in delight, face drawing in closer to the male's ear.
"Todo, well, aren't you early, haha~" You giggled, dusting your overalls as you strolled towards the stoic boy. Shoto nodded, pink flushing his pale features as he stared longer than he should. "Hello, snowflake, shall we?" He coughed. You, without a second thought, laced your fingers with his, gently dragging him towards your direction.
"So I heard you had a plan, what are we gonna do, my prince?" Shoto hummed, hand reaching for his device, pulling up his notes for the day. "Well, we can walk around for a while, maybe purchase some items while we're at it, have a bite to eat and move back to the dorm for your surprise party."
"Wait- what?" Shoto paused, irises darted towards yours, confusion held on his face when noticing the twitching of your lips. Before he knew, you were laughing your ass off, stomach hurting at the pressure from your lungs. "Did I say something wrong?" You flashed a scrunched up face, your snickering grin never leaving your face. "Nothing dearest!"
"Sero kun!" The ravennette smirk, elbow aiming at the folded areas before blasting a gust of wind along side strips of tape. "I got 'cha!" Uraraka smiled back, releasing the banner of her quirk before moving on with the other decorations, finger tips trailing the streamers and cutouts, glowing pink spreading like wildfire.
"Bakugo kun, are the side dishes—" the chopping of the knife quickened yet the roughness of the blade work still made precise slices of vegetables and meat alike. "THEY'RE ALREADY ON THE TABLE PONYTAIL! NOW HURRY UP WITH THE TEA!?" Momo huffed out a sigh, turning her attention back to the boiling kettle along with Sato alongside Hagakure with the cased cake batter.
Knock knock knock
"Must be Midoriya with the materials for the games!" Kaminari shuffled over to the entrance, hand already hooked on the handle, swiftly pulling the door before slamming it back in its place. "Er- gUYS! Theee birthday girl is- I don't know- AT THE DOOR?!" Silence flooded the room, screams of chaos reflecting outward after moments of realization. Only with the creaking of the door did they manage to calm down a little, keeping their continuing howls inward.
"Jigs up guys, little Shoto over here told me everything~" You snickered, fingers trailing over to the Todoroki's waist, pulling him closer into your embrace. His face flushed softly, head lowered a bit as he mumbled incoherently as you placed light kisses on his burning cheeks.
"Sorry, was I not suppose to?"
"DAMN IT, ICY HOT! NOW YOU RUINED THE FUCKING SURPRISE- I WASTED MY TIME FOR NOTHING!?" Bakugo threw a fit, knife immediately stabbing the wooden board with a loud thump! [Poor chopping board :,)]
"Bakugo, language please!" Iida waved at him as a certain red head reached over and patted the explosive male on the back. "There there, bakubro, Todoroki's too blunt for his own good!"
"Sorry Bakugo, even if you ask me to lie, I could never, it's just doesn't sit well with me.."
"Don't be sorry love~ I really couldn't care less if it's a surprise or not, as long as I get to spend time with my friends on my birthday, I'm happy regardless!"
"Babeeee!" Mina yelled, pinkish arms slithering around your waist, pulling you into her chest as her chin nested at the top of your head, snuggling herself closer into you.
"Sigh.. well since you are here early, why don't we just prepare the party together?"
"Sure~ come on everyone!"
"YEAH!"
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amjustagirl · 3 years ago
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castles in the air: chapter 2
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chapters: one.// two.// three.// four.// five.// six.// seven.// eight.// nine.// ten.//
pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f! reader genre: university romantic dramedy, mild angst, fluff wc: 6k summary: kuroo tetsuro is your pain in the ass classmate. that’s all. really.
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The semester hits the midway mark almost too quickly. 
Training grows harder, his captain unrelenting in his demands for more drills, more laps, more practice matches. His fingers ache, more calluses grow, thick and ugly on his palms, and he’d fall asleep in class far more often if you weren’t there to prod him awake. But it’s worth it, he tells himself. He holds on to his starting position because the team’s regular middle blockers are either injured, on academic probation or off in Europe on exchange, so his peers watch with envy when he gets to play almost every match, the defensive cornerstone when the team prepares its march to the intercollegiate championships.
He misses the camaraderie built with Yaku and Kai, the knowledge that they have each other’s back, the unwavering trust formed over years of working towards the same goal. The university team’s not half-bad, the seniors refrain from hazing the juniors (save for Sato-san, who prefers to shoot barbs, the immense chip on his shoulder from having to retake his first year screwing with his brain a bit), and he’s pretty sure he’ll make firm friends with the guys from his batch, but still - he misses his team.  
“Why work so hard when you’re not gonna go pro after college?” you ask, after a project meeting that you had to barge into his room to remind him about, his catnap stretching into an hour-long siesta that he’s horrified at himself for taking.  
“Cos I love the game”, he says simply. “I wanna play as long as I can.”
You don’t sniff at him, nor do you stare at him disapprovingly. Instead, you just peer over your laptop screen as you crouch on his bed. “Well. Just - just don’t burn yourself out.” 
“Are you concerned about me?” he asks slyly, propping his head up to stare at you. 
As expected, your head whips back to your work. “Psh. Concerned that I might lose a competitor, more like. Topping the cohort won’t be as sweet if you weren’t there.” 
“Cocky, I see. Let’s see who’s crying when they release the results - “
“As if! Considering the amount you’ve been studying, which is barely anything at the rate you’re going, you’re going the one who’s left crying  -” 
Ouch, that stings. With competition season drawing close, he has to admit that he really hasn’t been hitting the books as much as he should be, his notes are in shambles, his undone work is piling up, not because of procrastination but out of a sheer lack of time, and - yeah, he has to admit you’re probably right. 
“Oh well”, he remarks. “Guess you’ll be dropping me as a project mate next semester then.”
You stare at him as if he’s grown another head with gravity defying hair. 
“Kuroo Tetsurou, do you really think so little of me?” you say quietly, curling back behind the screen, almost as if he’s hurt you with careless words. 
“I uh - “
Then he sees it, you giving yourself an almost imperceptible shake, shoulders straightening. 
“Well”, you say briskly, flipping over your screen to show him an empty schedule that to his horror, is marked - ‘STUDY SCHEDULE FOR IDIOTS’, in bright red. “Let’s make sure your grades don’t suffer too much, in that case.” 
It’s testament to your strength of personality that he finds himself tucked into a corner of the library with you and your other friends to study and revise for exams almost every night after practice. 
“What”, you ask indignantly when he does a double take, shocked at the fact that you willingly associate with other living, breathing beings. “Did you think you were the only one with friends?” 
“Kinda”, he drawls. “Especially since you’re so -”
“I dare you to finish that sentence”, you growl, pointing a pen threateningly over his wrist. He closes his mouth with an exaggerated snap. 
Your tiny circle of friends are welcoming to him, even though they do look a little taken aback when you drag him in the first time but it’s cosy, companionable, and he gets a lot more work done than he’d have been able to by himself. It certainly helps that you lend him your notes, even though you grumble good naturedly, and he’s pretty sure he’s the only classmate you lend your carefully prepared notes to, because Sato-san and the rest of his team groans in envy when they catch a glimpse of your notes in his bag. 
“Gotta give the rest of us a chance”, Sato repeats his insult, laughing to himself. “You and that machine - what an unfair combination!” 
“If you can’t beat them, join ‘em”, he chuckles a little hollowly, swallowing the sudden urge to argue that it’s unfair to reduce you to that unkind nickname. Because Sato is his teammate, his senior. He can’t jeopardise any good will he has on the team but still, his words sting. He’s glad you aren’t around to hear the insults thrown your way, though he thinks you’re strong enough to ignore them anyway. Your sense of humour would probably even allow you to laugh at that horrid nickname - a machine - even if it’s inherently dehumanising, dismissive of all the hard work and effort you pour into your studies. 
“Why bother working so hard when you could just marry a rich husband?” You make a sound of discontent at his words and he adds quickly - “And hey, come to think of it, maybe I should start looking for a rich wife.”
It’s not his best day, not when he’s a little cranky after a hard practice where his captain yelled at him for not jumping high enough, fast enough to block the spikers, and you don’t let up on him either, drilling him on his finance calculations, on his marketing strategies until his head swims with figures and disjointed words, and he just needs a break from this relentless grind that’s slowly but surely wearing him down. 
“My mom was a housewife all her life”, you tell him. “My dad made sure we were always comfortable, but I tend to think my mom feels like she might’ve preferred a little more independence, especially when my brothers and I grew older.” 
Exhaustion forgotten, he thinks of his own mother. He sees her twice-yearly, once on mother’s day, once on New Year’s where she brings him to the shrine to pray, and while she shows some maternal affection for him, sending him money at regular intervals, asking about his studies, he’s never dared ask if she’s ever regretted walking out of his and his sister’s lives when she looks much happier, brighter even - than back when they all were a family, back when the walls would shake from the force of her arguments with his dad. 
“Sure”, he says. “Independence is good, I guess.” 
He thinks about his father, curled up in a corner, drunk out of his mind, cursing his ex-wife. He thinks about his sister, having to go to their obaa-san instead of their mom when she got her first period, met her first boyfriend. He thinks about himself, having to explain to his classmates with a strained smile that his mother doesn’t live with them anymore. 
“You don’t sound convinced. Please don’t tell me you’re one of those gross dudes that think a woman’s proper place is in the kitchen.”
The thing about you is that you’re far more perceptive than you have any right to be. 
“I just -”, he pauses, mindful that he might be treading into dangerous, murky waters. “Independence is all well and good, but I think you and your siblings benefitted from your mom being around for you.” 
You tilt your head, fortunately doesn’t take offense as he feared. “Yes”, you say slowly, the words treacle in your mouth. “But I’d like to think I can have the best of both worlds by having a husband who loves and supports me in whatever I choose to do. I guess I’m greedy - my dreams make me sound like I want to build castles in the sky but I’m not, really. All I want is a meaningful career of my own. All  I want is a family of my own. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for.” 
“That doesn’t sound like too much at all”, he remarks, taking a swig of coffee even though it tastes like wet dirt, in a bid to keep awake. 
“Of course you don’t - you’re a man. That’s always been your birthright”, you reply, mouth twisting, your tone more bitter than the coffee currently swirling in his gut. 
“I think the solution is to find yourself a nice husband who’d let you do what you want.”
“A decent man who respects that I’m entitled to do what I want”, you retort and he laughs, raising his hands up in defense. 
“As if any man could stop you from doing what you want”, he chortles, and you roll your eyes, pinch his arm playfully as he dodges your attacks. 
So yes - you’re headstrong and efficient, smart as a whip, good at your work. He highly doubts anyone would ever consider you a machine if they spend more than five minutes with you outside of class. You’re so easy to chat with, so easy to tease. There aren’t any airs about you, because you’re unabashedly you, scowling at him when he points out a mistake you’ve made in your work, laughing too loudly about some stupid chemistry joke he’s made, falling asleep on your books like a floppy seal when you try (and fail) to wean yourself off coffee yet again.  
“Why don’t you have more friends? From class, at least. Most young people these days have more friends, y’know?” 
You click your tongue against your teeth, mouthing indignantly young people at him. Another night spent in the library studying, your small circle of friends breaking up in favour of human pursuits like food and sleep. But midterms are coming, you seem to not mind spending a little time tutoring him on the finer points of accounting and cash flow forecasts, and he needs all the help he can get.
“Did we not just spend two hours sitting among my friends?” you reply pointedly. “Or did you think they’re just goldfish - “
“Oi, don’t put words in my mouth, princess”, he shoots back. “You know what I meant. You don’t seem to have friends in class except me - is it because I’m special?” 
“You’re really fishing for compliments here, aren’t you?” 
He gives you a flash of his patented smirk, leans back in his chair. “Nah, just wondering why no one else seems to have caught on to your fantastic personality.” 
You stare at him, obviously searching for the punchline in his words, but he just smirks back at you. 
“I don’t really find making friends easily. A relic from high school, I suppose. It’s even more difficult in business school where everyone seems a bit transactional.” You wrinkle your nose, spinning a pen in your fingers. “They didn’t really take much notice of me until the end of last semester when our grades were announced and then suddenly all they wanted to talk about were assignments and job placements and -” you sigh through your nose, forehead wrinkling. “They didn’t really see me as a person. That makes me wonder whether they see me for who I am, or for what I can do for them.”  
“But here we are - “ 
“Are we friends? I didn’t realise that”, you tease, as he pouts playfully, hand to heart. 
“You wound me, princess, you really do.” 
“Fine, I guess we’re friends”, you answer, a fond smile on your face that he can’t help but wish he saw more of. “You made me a business proposition, I fed you ramen, now you tease me about my books and I tutor you because you like to pretend to be a dumb jock, so here we are.” 
“Here we are indeed”, he replies, smirk smoothing out into a smile.  
It’s their loss, he figures, if they don’t want to be your friend. It’s their loss if they don’t get to see you as a human being, just a soulless machine, racking up points and scoring top marks, someone inhuman, soaring past them in the stratosphere. They don’t get to see the moments when you doubt yourself, when you hunch over yourself whenever you get poor feedback on your projects, when you pour your heart and soul into your work, shouldering more than your share when he falls short without complaint. 
“We did it!” you squeal at the end of the term, when your professor beams at you both, awards you the top grade for your project along with a long review. 
“Of course we did”, he replies smugly. The taste of success is addictive, oh-too-sweet. He chuckles when you shove at his shoulder playfully, catches your hand to rub it in that - “I told you you’d have no regrets partnering with me.”
“Kuroo Tetsurou, it baffles me how you’re so bloody annoying -” 
“Let’s go out to celebrate” he adds, ignoring her barb, still riding the high of success. “I’ll buy you dinner tonight!” 
“Not fish again. You’re such an old man”, you tease. 
“You need fish for docosa-haxaeonic acid”, he retorts, but you only tug at his sleeve, impatient when he’s dangling the promise of food before you. 
You both end up at the ramen shop anyway. It’s become your regular hang-out spot, both yours and his, so much so that the old oji-san recognises his order, grumbles when he doesn’t come in for more than a week. But the old oji-san’s clear favourite is you, always leaning over to ask how your week’s been, feeding you an extra ramen egg or bamboo shoots, and Kuroo points out that it’s probably because you’ve bought his crusty heart by chatting with him about he and his wife’s favourite long running soap operas, even bought him a bottle of sake to celebrate his birthday once you’ve learnt the date. 
“It’s called being a decent human being and listening when people talk about themselves, Kuroo.”
“You’re just sucking up for no reason”, he retorts and you chuckle, chopsticks held aloft. 
“It’s called being kind, you fool. Look it up, someday”, you retort before stuffing yourself full of ramen noodles, which you declare to the oji-san to be the best in Tokyo, nay, the world, as you always do. He swears the old man is about to declare you his honourary grand-daughter at this rate. Well - his grandparents would obviously love you too, his grandma’s been complaining that she misses him bringing his friends home, and she can’t wait til the day comes that he brings a nice girl home to meet her wait - he shakes his head clear of that thought, choosing to wolf down ramen instead of exploring that stray alley his brain seems intent on leading him down.
“Earth to Kuroo”, you call, leaning in, eyes gleaming with that sharp, mischievous tilt, an expression that you adopt too-frequently when you think you’ve gotten the better of him. You wave a hand across his face, and he jolts back, as if he’s fallen out of a dream. 
“Alien acid ate up your brain?”  
“Pfft, there’s no such thing.” He makes a show of shaking himself awake. “Just thinking about exams.” 
“You’ll do just fine”, you say dismissively, kicking his shin. “I’m sure of it.” 
“Cos if not it’d mean your tutoring skills suck?” 
“No! Because it’d mean your brain sucks, if all my tutoring didn’t help you one bit - ”
He pays the old man and compliments him for making the best ramen in the world, as he always does, though the old man only truly perks up when you wave at him and promise to come again soon before stepping back into the world outside. Summer is long gone, autumn is on its way out, and winter, with its chilly gales and bleak, short days, is about to arrive in full force. He tucks himself into his coat - Nekoma red, of course, gloves on his hands when he notices you try to zip your coat all the way to the hollow of your throat, shrugging your shoulders in a bid to hide the exposed skin of your neck to the nipping  winter cold.
Receives, bumps, one touches - movements on court that are honed through many years of training, movements that come naturally without his brain having to be engaged too much, but even though this particular movement is new, he doesn’t even realise he’s unwinding the wool scarf from his neck until he’s tugged you close, tilting your chin up gently to wrap it around your neck. 
“My skin’s a lot thicker than yours, so you better make sure you wrap up nice and warm”, he tells you with as much bravado as he can muster,  since you seem to be stricken silent from shock. 
You tuck your chin into the cloud of woolen weave, as you walk beside him, and he’s wondering if he’s wrong for acting over-familiar with you - you’re a friend, but you’re also a girl, and he wonders if his actions might be misconstrued when you glance at him, almost as if you’re looking at him for the first time. 
“Cat got your tongue, princess?”, he asks, his tongue engaging before his brain stops it from its instinct to provoke, to annoy. 
Luckily, your regular scowl crosses your face, and he knows you’re both back on familiar grounds. 
“I just didn’t know you could be nice”, you say airily, tossing your hair behind your shoulder as you dash ahead, laughing merrily. 
“I’ve always been nice to my friends!” he yells, white puffs streaming behind him as he chases after you. 
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Your classmates notice around the same time he does that you’re actually friends. 
“Wow, I didn’t know that frigid bitch could actually be human”, Sato comments idly during a break in practice. “What did you do, charm your way into her pants? You gotta tell us if there’s really a stick up her arse if you do.” 
He bites his tongue yet again, preventing him from spitting out some acerbic remark or two. “We’re just friends”, he manages to say with a veneer of politeness. “We work well together.”
“Good for you”, Sato replies. “It’d be a joke if anyone wanted to date that bitch.” 
His mood doesn’t lighten when he turns up at your room for his usual study session after dinner, eyebrows drawn together, a weathervane for his stormy mood. You take one glance at him and snap your laptop shut. 
“Out with it”, you say. “What’s bothering you?” 
“Nothing!” he says too quickly. “Everything’s fine.” 
You obviously don’t believe him. “Did Sato screw up serves again? Or did your captain say something to you? You can’t be stressed about schoolwork, you’re actually ahead, which is good - “ 
“It’s fine”, he stresses, grimacing. “Can you just drop it?” 
Oops. He may have said that a little too sharply because you flinch back into your seat, wincing slightly, even though you try to cover that up with a quick shake of your shoulders, an impassive expression sliding back on your face. He didn’t mean to snap at you - you’re not the cause of his ire, far from it. 
So he fixes it the only way he knows how. 
“Wanna grab ice cream?” 
“What?!” you stare at him, flummoxed.  “It’s a school night and it’s cold, Kuroo!” 
“Perfect weather for ice cream then”, he chortles. “Any weather’s perfect for ice cream. I don’t know a time or situation that’s not a good time for it. C’mon, I know a place that we can study at - or not, since you said we’re ahead.” 
“I thought you only eat old man things like fish”, you jab, but allow yourself to be swept off to a tiny ice cream parlour just off campus. It’s definitely a step up from the combini ice cream the Nekoma team used to eat by the bulk, swirls of strawberry pink in white vanilla, chocolate parfaits abound, a sweet treat you and he both deserve after a hard week at school. 
You settle into a small booth at the back of the store, digging in with a tiny wooden spoon only after he prompts you. “Just admit it’s the best ice cream in the world already”, he teases as your eyes immediately widen when you take your first bite of the overflowing sundae he’s ordered for you to share. 
“It’s good”, you admit, through a mouthful of delicious, creamy ice cream, matcha and chocolate and azuki beans all melding together. It’s horrendously indulgent, because he orders you a huge vat of hot chocolate to go with it, along with pillow-like marshmallows that you giggle at, popping two in your mouth and puffing your cheeks out like a child. He aches to poke your cheeks and laugh at you, but keeps his hands firmly to himself. 
“See”, he says when the urge passes. “Ice cream is always good. In every situation, in every season, having ice cream is like, the go-to. You’ll weed out the weirdos in your life fairly quickly by screening them by their reactions to ice cream  -” 
“Please don’t soliloquise about ice cream, you’re clearly the weirdo here”, you joke, as he clutches his chest, acting affronted. 
“Hey!” 
You scrabble against his arm as he steal the sundae away, he smears ice cream against your nose resulting in a loud, indignant squawk and well retaliation is clearly in order - 
Long story short, you both get asked politely to leave (though the store owner winks at him for some undecipherable reason- he’s become fond of the obaa-chan by now), and you both sit outside on the curb, finishing your ice cream like two happy fools.  
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Winter means a brief respite from school, at least at the turn of the year. 
The good thing about attending university in Tokyo is that he’s able to make frequent trips back home to visit his family, so they don’t make any complaints when he makes plans to hang out with the Nekoma team at an izakaya to count down the new year. Yaku and Kai are both in attendance despite the former playing for the Falcons, though with the waves he’s made in the V-league, he won’t be surprised if Yakkun told him he’s headed for Europe in the next year or two, and the latter busy with his studies at the Tokyo University of Agriculture. With Kenma, Fukunaga and Yamamoto graduating in a matter of months, he’s not sure when he’ll get to see his whole team again. He’s not going to miss a chance like this for the world. 
“Lev! Did you seriously grow taller again?!” 
“Yaku-senpai - you look shorter than ever!” 
“I dare you to say that when I can reach you!!!”
“Yaku senpai, please don’t murder Lev, we’ve got nationals in two weeks -” 
None of them can drink just yet, even though Kuroo’s definitely stolen sips of beer from his seniors before, but they’re still by far the rowdiest bunch in the diner. It’s a good thing Fukunaga’s aunt runs the place, and she’s always been fond of the Nekoma team, having fed them over the years, so it’s fine if they all sit around, bickering with each other, ordering so much food that the table groans under the weight of laden dishes. 
He’s debating the pros and cons of playing for a university team versus going pro directly with Yamamoto when the door slides open, and a familiar figure stumbles in, the wind howling outside strong enough to knock a person off their feet. 
“Kuroo?” 
He glances up and his mouth promptly falls open.
“Princess? Wha-what are you doing here?”
It’s probably the wrong move to address you with the affectionate nickname he initially adopted to provoke you, with his team falling silent, watching as their usually unruffled captain turns traffic light red at the sight of a slip of a girl - but they don’t know that he’s so accustomed to seeing you dressed in an oversized hoodie, comfortable pyjamas even, when he’s invaded your room to study - that his brain short-circuits at the sight of you in a form fitting sweater dress that highlights every dip and curve of your form. 
“I live near here, remember? Some of my friends dragged me out to count down the new year, like you it seems!” A gaggle of girls wave over at you, before Fukunaga’s aunt ushers them towards a table at the other end of the diner. “Is this your high school team?”
Yamamoto nods so vigorously he nearly falls out of his chair, not even bothering to hide the fact that he’s eavesdropping shamelessly. You laugh at his antics, introducing yourself to him, and the younger boy looks like he’s about to rocket out of his chair when you ask if he’s the powerful wing spiker that Kuroo told you about, conveniently leaving out the fact that Kuroo’s mentioned that he’s a little over-enthusiastic, almost to a fault. 
“I’m Nekoma’s ace now!” Yamamoto half shouts, puffing his chest, as Shibayama and Inouka hide their smiles behind their hands. 
“I’m sure you are”, you reply, your smile so bright and earnest that Kuroo has to stamp down the urge to push Yamamoto away from you. “He’s said so many good things about you!” 
Yamamoto looks like he’s about to burst into tears, but Kuroo can’t seem to catch a break when Yaku leans over to introduce himself. “I didn’t know Kuroo had a girlfriend!”
Now Kuroo wants to stamp Yaku into the ground. From the frying pan, straight into the fire.  
“Oh!” you toss a look his way, biting down on your bottom lip. “N-no, you got it wrong. We’re just friends!” 
“That makes sense”, Yaku says. “We traded having a manager for having Kuroo as our captain.” 
You laugh again. He wonders if this is the most he’s ever heard you laugh - it just has to be at his expense, in front of his old team. 
“Is that so?” 
“Everyone thinks he’s a pain, but he’s really just an old man despite his Yakuza-like hair, if you haven’t realised by now. They all think we’ve been tormented by him for years, which is kinda true  - ” 
“Right”, Kuroo manages to get between the two of you, gesturing wildly. “That’s enough - don’t you have to hang out with your friends?” 
Yamamoto is still staring even after you’ve flitted away. Yaku is still grinning, mouth stretched wide.  
“She’s a pretty girl - not my type though, I still prefer girls with short hair. She’s definitely more your type though, Kuroo, maybe you should - ” 
For some reason, his brain stops working when it comes to you, so his tongue moves yet again of its volition as he snaps, a little too loudly, “She’s a bossy know-it-all, just like you. She’s definitely not my type either - ”
Yaku stiffens in his seat. “Did you just call me a bossy, know-it-all?” 
He’s too preoccupied defending himself from a roundhouse kick from Yaku to notice that you looked up  at him from your seat, a furrow in your brow that remains throughout the night, even after the everyone counts the year down in unison, the ridiculous variety show playing on the TV finally coming to an end. 
He's shepherding his kouhai out, bowing deeply to thank Fukunaga's aunt for her hospitality when he catches sight of you again, standing by the side of the road as you wave your friends off. 
"It's late", Kai pipes up from behind him unexpectedly. "You should go walk her home."
Ever the voice of reason, his trusty vice captain. He ignores the catcalls from his idiot team when he approaches you for the second time of the night, tries not to flinch when you turn to gaze at him, eyes flinty, though for the life of him, he can't imagine why. 
"C'mon princess." He runs a hand through his hair, shifting uncomfortably. "I'll walk you home, lead the way."
"I can take care of myself just fine", you tell him pertly. "You don't have to go out of your way for someone who’s just a bossy know it all -" 
"Stop being stubborn, it's late. Young people these days lack common sense, seriously -" 
You ignore him, start storming off into the shadowed streets. Luckily, his long legs more than make up the head start you’ve gained on him, hand outstretched to grab the back of your coat. 
“What’s with you today? You’re more stubborn than usual.” 
You whirl around, shaking his hand off. "Oh, just add being stubborn to your description of me as a bossy know-it-all, that's just fine by me!" He frowns in confusion, as you speed up into a slow job, as if intent to shake him off. It makes no difference, he matches your pace easily.
“Stop!” He pulls at your coat sleeve, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Physics wins out, and he manages to drag you to a halt. He’s just glad you aren’t armed with a fork or pen, your usual choice of weapon because that might tilt the balance in your favour instead. 
“Fuck right off, Kuroo Tetsuro!” 
This is not how he wanted to spend the first minutes of the new year, spitting and avoiding the claws of a hell-cat. Not to mention the fact that the situation he’s in probably looks really suspicious to any passerby - a guy chasing after a girl, even after she’s told him in no uncertain terms to leave her the hell alone. But he wants to see what you see, even though he’s insistent that no insult was intended. 
“What’s with you today? I’ve called you a bossy know-it-all before, and you’ve never taken issue with it. In fact, you just insult me right back - I think my favourite insult to-date is pompous, rooster-headed prick, so it’s not like the vocabulary I used is new, and I seriously don’t understand why you’re pissed at me right now.” 
“Do you even hear yourself?” You spin on your heel, jab a finger into his chest. “I don’t care that you called me a bossy know-it-all, you gaping asshole! I just - I just thought -” 
“Thought what?” he echoes, seriously confused when you stop short, gaze suddenly losing its heat, falling like a comet discovering gravity for the first time. 
“It’s nothing”, you say firmly, marching on ahead towards the traffic junction. The roads are still busy with cars, even in the suburbs. “Really. Nothing. Everything’s just fine.”
“Oi, weren’t you mad at me?” 
You shake your head, resolutely staring at the road ahead. “I forgive you for being stupid, Kuroo Tetsuro. I think stupidity’s a blight on your gender,  it’s not just confined to you.” 
He stumbles over a stray crack in the pavement, before catching himself. When he recovers from his shock, it melds into confusion at your sudden magnanimity. “Uh, thanks I guess?” Then, because he knows food is the way to soothe the annoyance in your soul, he grins - “I was gonna offer to buy you dinner and ice cream, buy your forgiveness, you know - but I suppose that’s not needed anymore, huh.” 
You snort, loud and clear in the night. “You’re absolutely buying me ramen when we’re back at school.”
The traffic light changes from red to green. He moves forward, a step behind you. 
“It was my turn to buy dinner next, so it’s no loss to buy ramen for you anyway.” 
A familiar eye-roll tips him off to your next move, an elbow to his ribs which he dodges, sidestepping your attack neatly. “You’re annoying”, you grumble, and he just chortles, replying with a quip he knows will frustrate you to no-end. 
“Nah, I’m just Kuroo Tetsuro. Always at your service, princess.” 
“Those words are synonymous now, I swear -” 
Your bickering tapers off when you finally reach your parents’ apartment building, a modest, four storey block that’s thankfully just a bus ride away from his grandparents’ home. He should be happy his night’s almost over because it’s late, the night air growing colder with every passing minute, and he needs to be up early to continue revising for the upcoming exams. But he can’t help but drag his feet, prolong the time he has with you. 
“You sure you’re not still mad at me?” 
He doesn’t need you to know that he teeters on the knife edge of being snarky and annoying - Yaku, and to a far lesser, gentler, extent, Kai too, have both made it very clear that his way with provocative taunts can land him in hot water at times, so he’s also learnt to apologise, where needed. He’ll let you slap him if you’re still mad (not that you’ve actually used enough force to hurt him before, sans the time you stabbed with your fork for stealing your dinner), or throw yet another pen at him (that he’ll dodge anyway). He just doesn’t want to spend the first day of the year fighting with you. 
“And if I am, what’re you going to do about it?” 
He promptly drops onto his knees. Your mouth promptly drops open. 
“W-what are you doing?!” 
His jeans will survive the dirt and dust, even if obaa-chan might complain a little about him dirtying her pristine washing machine. “I’m very good at grovelling”, he informs you, laughing aloud as you dart forward to try tugging him to his feet, ignoring your hissing that you really don’t need to attract the attention of your neighbours, thank you very much! But there’s no way in hell you’d be able to lift a load that’s at least seventy kilograms of pure muscle, no matter how much you threaten said load, so he waits until you pant, exhausted, resorting instead to cheap tricks like prodding his nose with an indignant finger. 
“Kuroo Tetsuro, you stop this right now! Get up, or help me, I will hurt you -”
“I’ll get up after you accept my apology - I don’t think my heart could take it if you’re mad with me, princess.” 
He presses his hand to said heart, both to assure you of his sincerity and act as a shield in case you do decide to stab him right in the chest, which he won’t put past you, considering the way your eyebrows telegraph the way you’re fluctuating between exasperation and annoyance. 
“I didn’t hear any apology from you.” You eventually settle on exasperation, the better option in his opinion, even though there’s a vaguely murderous glint to your eyes that he doesn’t quite like. 
He scrambles to his feet. “I’m sorry for calling you a bossy, know-it-all”, he says contritely. “Please forgive me. I’d have a terrible year if you don’t.” 
“Fine”, you grumble, tone impatient, but he’ll take it as a win, since there’s no bodily harm inflicted upon him yet. “You’re still an asshole, Kuroo Tetsuro.”
“I’ll accept your insult, fair maiden, even though an apology was all I sought”, he says blithely. He’s courting danger right now, the equivalent of prodding nitrogen triiodide just to see what happens (it’ll explode, that’s what), but you surprise him when you don’t react, eyebrows suspiciously straight as you stare him down. 
“Did I say something wrong again?” 
This time, your eyebrows waver. He’s not sure if it’s a good thing. 
“Good night, Kuroo”, you say, so quietly that he has to strain to hear it. Then you reach for his face, and he flinches back, expecting a punch, a slap, a smack, but all he gets is a brush of your thumb against his cheek. It leaves a spark of warmth in its wake, heat rising in his chest despite it being the first day of January, deep in the winter's chill, but then you retract your hand, quicker than any attack of yours. 
“Happy New Year”, he vaguely hears you say, as you look away. “I hope you have a good year, Kuroo.”  
“Happy New Year”, he replies, watching and waiting until you disappear into the lift lobby, until the lift doors hide you from him.
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m.list.~ taglist.~
a/n: hope you guys are enjoying the fluffy goodness between these two dorks. 
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caravan-mad · 2 years ago
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MHA + HOMESTUCK Crossover: Classpecting intro
Hi, this is dumb.
Since recently My Hero Academia and Homestuck have been my hyperfixations, I have decided I am going to classpect certain My Hero Academia characters into SBURB.
Should I find more interest in this I might expand this into their planets, playstyles, hell might even draw some stuff for it or make sprites but my interest in doing this depends on the hyperfixation lmao. Anyway off to the info:
ORGIZATION
simply put ill organize the subgroups of MHA into sessions, meaning that how these classes and aspects will correlate to with one another and their sburb session. The order in which I am classpecting goes as follows:
LEAGUE OF VILLAINS - Shigaraki, Spinner, Dabi, Toga, Mr. Compress, Twice
CLASS 1A TEAM LIME - Midoriya, Ururaka, Iida, Todoroki, Aoyama, Yaoyorozu, Shoji, Tokoyami, Asui, Mineta
CLASS 1A TEAM CITRUS - Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido, Sero, Jirou, Sato, Oijro, Hagakure, Koda
POST-SCRATCH PROS - All might, Eraser Head, Present Mic, Midnight, Endeavor, Mirko, Hawks, FatGum
Should I decide in the future to add more or not is up for debate, but for now these are the ones I will be classpecting and have thought about
CLASSPECTING
So basically how I am going about this is simply choosing off of the character’s personalities and how their abilities work in canon to make these decisions. I am going to *try* and avoid having the same class and aspects in the same session however this is not guaranteed (see class 1A being 1 session in two teams like the trolls containing 20 students, there will be duplicates) however this is mostly to get me thinking deeper about these classpects and really having to decide what traits fit which characters on a better level.
my sources for the classpects will be a mix of the canon EXTENDED ZODIAC and classes will be going off of @homestuckexamination‘s analysis of the classes. I will also be using a mix of the homestuck wiki however this is just meant to fill in the gaps of certian classpects (and because i am too lazy to dig thru homestuck to find chatlogs dear god lmao)
Anyway this is just a dumb little project im doing. If you are into Homestuck and MHA hoping this will be fun to see lmao
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jangofctts · 4 years ago
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Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)
Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)
Word count: 7.5k
Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy 
Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.  
a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn​ THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL
Well—
Here you are. 
Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that? 
Not much, as it so happens. 
Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding— 
Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—
The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail. 
The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…
Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought. 
Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in. 
Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.            
Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics. 
The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…  
So you ran. 
Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.    
Coward.
The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.  
Maker—how did everything become so tangled? 
You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out. 
The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift. 
It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.  
Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.     
Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground. 
The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.  
Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.
If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?
A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and— 
“Changed your mind? I—“
Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times. 
Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving. 
“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“
You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;
“Sit.”       
Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.   
Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz. 
“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now. 
The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.      
“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”  
Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”
“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”
You swallow and bite your tongue.  
The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”
Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.  
You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”   
The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.   
“No more bounties.” 
“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.  
“No more hunts alone—“  
You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”
He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.” 
“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.  
His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”   
“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”    
Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”    
That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire. 
“Din?”
The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”
Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond. 
“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."
Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”
You blink and return to picking at your fingernails. 
“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”    
The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.   
He was worried—
You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.   
A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.  
Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.    
Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble. 
Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.      
It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night. 
Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over. 
You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits. 
By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.  
You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.  
He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.   
Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.    
Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—
It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you. 
“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”
“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”
A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”
“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”       
You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.
The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.
You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow. 
Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—  
It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…
“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.” 
“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.  
He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.       
“Don’t quit on me yet—“
“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”  
Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”
The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.        
“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.   
Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.   
His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.     
You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.   
Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous. 
“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”
Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”
Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”  
You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”
He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”
Oh. 
A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?” 
Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”    
You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers. 
Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling. 
You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal. 
Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“ 
You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.       
Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.   
His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.  
“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.” 
Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.  
Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.  
“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you. 
“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”
You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now. 
Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”
Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"  
He continues without missing a beat. 
“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck.  “I want to do it again—can I?”
You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity. 
Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”
He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”
Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.    
To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly. 
He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.   
Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?
He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.   
Maker you hate this fucking planet—   
Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up. 
Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.           
“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”    
Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.      
“I want to. For you—only you.”
Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar— 
The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.    
You were right. 
You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand. 
“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”     
Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.   
He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants. 
If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought. 
He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath. 
Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.  
“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.  
Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward. 
His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance. 
Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.          
Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.  
Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs 
A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips. 
You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”
You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.” 
Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”
He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up. 
Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you. 
Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.           
Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips. 
“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.” 
Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug. 
Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.  
Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.      
Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”
There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.    
“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.     
Another time for that game maybe. 
Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you. 
“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.” 
How can you deny such a request?
You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.  
Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.  
Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works. 
Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.      
“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.” 
A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind. 
“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”
White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.  
Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”
You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things. 
He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim. 
Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss. 
He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue. 
Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?” 
You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.            
Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”
Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—
Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent. 
His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”
You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.   
“Wait—is that Paz?”
The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.
“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”
Your heart skips a beat. 
“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” 
Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches. 
The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.
You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.         
He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been. 
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desertdragon · 2 years ago
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Three headcanons that have been sitting in my head this week:
I think Yugiri would be familiar with and enjoy bonito flakes (Katsuobushi) and other dried fish / fish dishes since in Sui-no-Sato we do see fisherman and fish dry racks as one primary source of food in public; so because of this she goes to eat some she’s gotten her hands on and it draws Vaste’s attention because he’s never seen it before. She lets him try some of course, and he goes insane, instantly one of the foods ever for him.
They start splitting it together whenever its around but may or may not sometimes take more than they should if they feel greedy. Fast forward to them as parents and the kids want to try some so again Yugiri lets them try it, half out of curiosity to see how crazy they’ll react. If she thought Vaste got crazy then all three kids go out of their fucking minds. They so much as smell it or hear the packaging unwrap and they come running balls to the wall or bribing their way into a share. All you hear is one yelling something like “MA GOT THE KATSUOBUSHI!!” and all hell breaks loose. Yugiri uses this knowledge for other things (like bribing them back) as she should.
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As I’ve mentioned they stopped thinking of more kids after the twins because of how disastrous their birth was. First off they were born two weeks early, which normally is fine since it scrapes the limits before being premature, but it turned out to be one of those rare bad cases. Yugiri bled a lot, was weakened faster etc. It was to the point she told Vaste if she should die then she wanted her to keep going, look after the kids, that she trusted her to bury Yugiri properly and so on very bluntly. They both got flashbacks to when Shiina died and what it was like watching her fade and her own last wishes on top of how it changed Gan.
Whenever Yugiri got too cold Vaste had no problem keeping her warm laying beside her, and Yoshino imitated her dad because even though she couldn’t fully understand or articulate it she still felt how grave it was. Whenever she needed care they both were there within reason, Vaste gave her simple things to do and didn’t have her around all the time to keep her from worrying. As an adult if you asked her she would say it was one of the scariest times of her life, and one of a handful of times she’d ever seen her dad terrified and helpless.
She recognized that Vaste tried being strong for her but that makes it hurt anyway in hindsight; that memory would be something she carries approaching her own family later. People might think the whole family resent the boys even a little for nearly taking Yugiri’s life, but they don’t. Yoshino at most had an inkling of that feeling when they were newborns but her parents talked her through it. Yugiri doesn’t regret having her sons because they’re her children, but she doesn’t consider herself stupid enough to take risks like that again. Parenting is about valuing your children rather than pumping out endless kids. She’s thankful to have survived another brush with her familiar friend death and it affirms her grip on life one more time.
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All three kids now have light brown skin tones instead and some of U’odh’s subtle features; in real life the genes for melanin can skip generations or create new combinations depending on one’s immediate ancestors. I skipped giving Vaste dark skin from her father to avoid writing a hyper-violent and traumatized dark skin character; her children however are none of those things and will never mimic the evil things she’s done nor kill anyone. So I’ve decided the darker skin would pass to them instead.
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eggtoasties · 4 years ago
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Chapter One: I. Allegro
Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader
Rating: G
Word Count: 3.2k
Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.
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Counter point: Good counterpoint requires two qualities: (1) a meaningful or harmonious relationship between the lines (a “vertical” consideration—i.e., dealing with harmony) and (2) some degree of independence or individuality within the lines themselves (a “horizontal” consideration, dealing with melody).
It was illogical really, Kuroo thought to himself, having to take a mandatory arts class. He was an athlete. He would probably major in STEM or business the next year if he didn’t go pro. But here he was, staring at the course catalogue, deciding between different bands, choirs, art classes, and orchestra. Irritatingly, Kenma had finished his arts requirement last year, taking a video editing class which Kuroo thought was definitely cheating since he figured Kenma already knew the basics. Plus, he not-so-secretly believed that Kenma would benefit from another non-electronic hobby.
Sighing, he assessed each class. He knew he was tone deaf and did not want others listening to him sing. Plus, he’s seen the red cummerbunds and bow ties the choir had to wear for concerts and refused to give his teammates the blackmail fodder even if Yaku thought it looked “refined.”
To be honest, Kuroo didn’t know much about the arts. He only had the vaguest understanding of the differences between Watercolor 101, Figure drawing 101, and Oil Painting 101. While he thought of himself in the studio, palette in hand with an apron tied around him, working intently at the easel on the next generational masterpiece, he remembered when Kenma threw his pencil-drawn mockups of promotional posters in the trash and told him not to show the rest of the team.
While maybe he could try digital media, he couldn’t help but imagine himself against the romanticized backdrop of more traditional arts.
He had to choose between the several band electives and orchestra. He couldn’t do marching band—he wouldn’t be caught dead in those uniforms, wind ensemble had auditions he surely wouldn’t pass, jazz band had mandatory solos, but symphonic band was for rookies. ‘Beginners welcome,’ was typed out with an asterisk under the listing. But, so did orchestra. Doing a quick search to figure out the difference between band and orchestra, Kuroo weighed his options.
He took piano lessons from ages four through ten before finally convincing his parents to let him quit—wearing them down by crying every week and throwing a mini tantrum at daily practice—not that he intentionally did it as an elementary school student. But, even from an early age, he knew volleyball was it for him.
While he wasn’t well acquainted with classical music, he had grown up with it from his parents. Well, when they were irritated with the bickering matches between him and his older sister, their parents would crank up the car radio, drowning their yelling. His mom would tell him she used to play Mozart for him when he was a baby which is why he grew so tall—which he would always say makes no sense—and occasionally, a film score would make the hairs on his arms rise even when he was trying to focus on the scene.
So he decided. He’d enroll in orchestra for the year, make himself unnoticeable in the back, and fulfill his arts requirement so he could graduate high school and maybe apply to university. Plus, he figured, as he ticked the box next to orchestra, he’d finally be able to wear his suit his parents bought him, saying that he’d need it eventually.
Folding the course registration paper and sliding it into an envelope to be sent to Nekoma High, he stood up from his seat at the low dining room table and decided to go to Kenma’s, figuring they could squeeze some volleyball practice before summer vacation ended.
.
The first day of his third year was unextraordinary. He woke up tired, coaxed his bed head into something manageable, and started his commute to school, picking Kenma up on the way. Double and triple checking his course schedule on his phone and reminding his teammates that they all had to help out in advertising the volleyball club—well, maybe except Yaku—he tapped his toes with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.
His classes were nothing special, most of them a continuation of the year before or courses he carefully picked with the advice of his seniors. But, walking towards the orchestra room at the far side of the building where all the music classes were, he felt a familiar rush of nervous adrenaline spike—not unlike the nerves before a big match. But this time, he couldn’t be confident in his own skills or rely on a team to back him up. Counting the room numbers until it matched the one on his registration, he found the room with its double doors propped open.
Striding in, the large open space was in various states of organized chaos. Other students were already moving chairs in uniform columns, two to a row, and were pulling instruments out of cases. Unsure of what to do, he immediately found the teacher.
“Hi Jouda-sensei, I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he introduced. “I’m new—where should I sit?”
“Hi Tetsuro-kun, it’s nice to meet you,” she said warmly. “Ah, yes I see you enrolled as a beginner.” Flipping through the pages on her clipboard she hummed, “Is there a particular instrument you’d like to play?” sweeping a hand across the room. “We could always use more violas, we have enough cellos, weirdly too many basses, but we could also stick you with the second violins?”
Kuroo didn’t quite know the difference between violas and violins but figured ‘second’ violins implied that there was also a ‘first’ violins group and that he’d be more likely to be able to hide in the back in a bigger group.
“Yeah,” he drawled out confidently, “I actually wanted to learn violin.”
“Okay, perfect. Here—” she motioned another student over. “Tetsuro-kun, meet Daisuke-kun.” Daisuke greeted Kuroo with a shallow bow and Kuroo responded with a head nod, mentally rolling his eyes at Daisuke’s subtle disapproval.
“He’s first chair of the second violins,” Jouda-sensei continued, “he’ll get you set up. Daisuke-kun, have him take one of the rentals and teach him the ropes. Today’s mostly getting people set up if they don’t have their own instruments and playing through potential setlists,” she explained while twirling her pen in her right hand. “Testsuro-kun, you’re our only new violin which means everyone can help you learn—take today to be comfortable with an instrument in your hands and observe your classmates!” she finished, walking away.
“I’m Sato Daisuke, a second year,” Daisuke reintroduced, emphasizing his year.
“Kuroo Tetsuro, third year,” he said smugly.
“Ah—okay,” Daisuke said standing straighter, “Kuroo-san, follow me,” turning towards the back of the room.
Chuckling Kuroo said, “Just Kuroo’s fine—you’re technically my senior here since I’ve never played violin before.”
Stuttering a bit and covering it with a cough, Daisuke nodded once. He stood in front of a wall of neatly labelled cubbies and pulling a black rectangular case out, he handed it to Kuroo. Explaining the rules of the rental and making him sign a form, Daisuke taught Kuroo how to properly tighten the bow, use rosin, clean the instrument, and taught him simple exercises to practice posture.
Fiddling a bit with the shoulder rest as Daisuke excused himself for a second, Kuroo ran through the exercises to get himself acquainted with the feel of the violin under his chin and a bow in his right hand. It was uncomfortable, he noted. His left shoulder wanted to scrunch up towards his face, his left wrist wanted to press towards the neck of the violin, and he couldn’t comfortably hold his bow. For the first time in a while, Kuroo felt out of his element—he felt as though his body couldn’t do what he wanted it to do. He felt awkward and unsure and the back of his neck prickled as he caught other students look his way.
Finally, Daisuke came back. Holding a thin blue book in his hand he explained, “This’ll teach you the basics of reading music. The thickest string on the left is G, followed by D, A, and E. Notes go in order of A through G and it just repeats.” Making sure Kuroo was following along, he continued. “So, If we start on the G string and put a finger down,” he moved over to place Kuroo’s index finger on the first tape, “what note is this?”
“A?”
“Yup, great. Follow the tapes for where you should put your fingers, I taught you how to tune and you need to study and practice every night so you’ll be able to partially follow along in class.”
Head a little dizzy with the new information but also proud to have understood some of the basics, Kuroo nodded. Daisuke took Kuroo to the back of the group, explained to a student who Kuroo was, then took his place towards the front.
Kuroo’s stand partner was a first year—Hayato. He’d been doing orchestra since middle school, didn’t take private lessons like many of the other students, but enjoyed orchestra enough to continue in high school as a hobby. Although a little awkward, Hayato was patient when giving Kuroo a more detailed explanation of reading music, since six years of piano lessons had completely left him, and set him up with basic exercises.
“You need to make sure your left wrist is down and relaxed,” Hayato said, tapping a pencil to Kuroo’s inner wrist. “Also, your bow grip is atrocious, but that’s one of the hardest things for a beginner.” He showed Kuroo how the bow was supposed to be held, stressing how it should look relaxed and curved.
Making small adjustments while Kuroo shakily moved the bow across the strings, Hayato said, “Sensei will probably have you come during study hall to practice, but you need to practice at home too or Sato-san and the concertmaster will probably chew you out.”
Bow stuttering crookedly across the strings, making Sato tut at him, Kuroo paused. “The concertmaster,” he asked disbelievingly. “What is that?” imagining some despotic conductor in long tuxedo trails and a clipboard.
Laughing at his confusion, Hayato explained. “The concertmaster is the first chair violinist. In orchestra they’re like the leader of the group. They tune the group, come out second to last before the conductor during concerts, make decisions on bowings, and everyone kinda follows their lead.”
Nodding to himself Kuroo said, “Okay, so he’s like,” he trailed off, “the captain of the team?”
“Exactly. Except she’s a third year like you and pretty well known in the music scene in our area, y’know.”
Frowning at his assumption he admitted, “Ah, okay so,” he trailed off, “concertmistress? I play volleyball, I don’t really know music.”
Hayato laughed and Kuroo raised a brow. “I mean obviously—you don’t really look like a violinist.”
Affronted Kuroo said, “Oi, what does that mean?”
“Kuroo-san, you’re like, huge,” Hayato squeaked out.
Trying not to preen, Kuroo waved his hand and turned his head towards the front of the class.
Jouda-sensei stood on her podium and tapped her baton on the raised stand in front of her. “Hi everyone, good to see all of you again. We have a few new faces so make sure to welcome them and help them out. I’m super excited for our potential set list this year, but before I pass out the folders, let’s a hear a few words from our concertmistress!”
With scattered applause and stomping, a girl rose to the podium as Jouda-sensei stepped off. Holding her violin and bow in her left hand she beamed at the class. Briefly introducing herself and sharing her excitement for the year to make music with everyone, Jouda-sensei interrupted her return to her seat.
“For the first rehearsal, how about you formally tune us?” Jouda-sensei offered.
“Aw, no it’s okay—some people are beginners and all the section leaders already took care of it right?”
Next to her, her stand partner threw an eraser at the podium making her scowl. “Just do it, her stand partner complained,” drawing laughter from the class.
Giving her partner the finger, hidden from their sensei’s view, she laughed good naturedly and straightened her shoulders.
All of a sudden, Kuroo noted, the atmosphere in the room changed. Students were no longer whispering to each other, playing random tunes, or shuffling in their seats. Everyone’s eyes were on her at the podium. She offered an open palm and nodded towards the back of the room. A single note penetrated the silence.
She swept her hand towards the back and Kuroo was suddenly flooded with the sound of the deep and rich brass section. After a few seconds, she repeated the process and the woodwind instruments close to Kuroo in the back began to tune.
Hayato leaned towards Kuroo. “Before concerts and rehearsals everyone should’ve tuned beforehand. This more for last minute checks and also a show for the audience. The order and how many sections tune at once is usually decided between the concertmaster and the conductor—Kuroo-san, we’ll tune last.”
Nodding in appreciation, Kuroo turned his attention back to the podium. The woodwinds trailed off and after a beat of silence, she nodded once again for the tuning note to be played and she waved her hand towards the cellos and basses at her right. The gravelly resonance of the strings filled Kuroo with a strange sense of full contentment and marveled at the size of the basses, whose strings seemed to be quadruple the thickness of his own.
Finally, the concertmaster gave one last nod and tucked her violin under her chin. Hearing the drone of the pitch, everyone around Kuroo began to tune. Unsure of what to do, he stumbled to mimic Hayato who was adjusting his tuners. Since Sato Daisuke already tuned his instrument, Kuroo just played open strings and waited for the rest of his section to stop. Glancing to his left at Kuroo’s right hand, Hayato whispered sharply, “Keep your pinky curved!”
.
After tuning, folders were passed out to each student, filed with sheet music. Hayato organized the sheets on their stand.
“Since you’re on the inside—the left hand side of the stand—your job is to turn my pages,” he explained. “It’ll be good practice to see if you can follow along even if you can’t read, but no worries if you want to spend today just watching and listening.”
Thanking Hayato and teasing when he fumbled in embarrassment, Kuroo spent the rest of class in awe. Although the group was seeing the pieces for the first time, he couldn’t help the goosebumps on his arms as the orchestra came together. Even when he heard Hayato miss a note, noticed when the conductor would glare at a section, or when they had to stop and regroup, listening to individual instruments try come together as one left Kuroo wanting to be a part of it. From the inside, he watched as bows moved in unison and fingers slid up and down the necks of stringed instruments. He was hyper aware of the instruments behind him providing support to the main melody, and leaned towards them to catch their individual parts.
He set his gaze towards the front of the room and watched the concertmaster. Powerful yet graceful, her bow made sure movements across the strings, fingers moving quickly and accurately. Her body swayed with the music and her face, unlike Hayato’s, was not one of extreme concentration. She seemed focused as she watched the conductor and indicated entrances to her section through her body, but despite the multi-tasking, it was clear to Kuroo that she was having fun.
She trusted her section to follow along, for her stand partner to flip the pages at the right times, and for the rest of the orchestra to do their parts. When Jouda-sensei made the class begin again, she would lean towards her stand partner and share whispered giggles and Kuroo caught the glint of shiny pink polish and traced the way her hair fell across her shoulders.
He knew what being a captain was like—he had been captain since he was voted in at the end of his second year and he wondered how long she’d been playing for, how much she practices, and how she encourages her section. He wondered what the differences and similarities were between leading a team and an orchestra were—the differences and similarities between them, even.
At the end of class Kuroo promised to himself to practice a little every day to be able to play with the group and hold his own. For the rest of the school day, he idly hummed the melodies they had played in class and replayed images of bows and hands moving in unison.
.
In the club room before practice, Kuroo came in with his violin case. Greeting his teammates, he started to change.
Loosening his tie and pulling his sweater over his head, Kuroo heard Lev ask about his case. Swapping his school top for his practice one, Kenma responded.
“Kuroo’s taking orchestra for his arts credit.”
“Why would you take a band credit, you should’ve taken sculpture like I did,” Yamamoto exclaimed proudly.
“Your sculptures were ugly,” Kenma said evenly, over the sounds of his video game.
Before Yamamoto could respond, Fukunaga menacingly shook his water bottle at the two of them causing Kenma to turn his back and hunch defensively over his game.
Narrowing his eyes at Kenma, Yamamoto turned his attention back to Kuroo who was idly flipping through the practice book Daisuke had given him.
“Yeah Kuroo, band classes are so much work when you’ve gotta learn the instrument, why’d you enroll?”
Before Kuroo could respond Yaku jumped to Yamamoto’s side and jabbed him. “Band and orchestra are two different things you uncultured swine!”
Doubled over and grasping his stomach, Yamamoto glared tearfully at his senior, then directed his glare towards Lev who was slapping his knee in laughter.
“Kuroo-san,” Lev shouted, “can you play us something?” he asked excitedly.
Gaining the interest of the rest of the team, everyone crowded around Kuroo, nodding in unison. He rubbed the back of his head in uncertainty.
“I’ve literally just learned how to play. I don’t know if you’d really want me to.”
“We really want you to!” Lev said, encouraging him to open his case.
Begrudgingly, Kuroo went to his violin and briefly explained how to setup and tune, to the amazement of some of his teammates. Even Kenma peered curiously over his video game in the corner. He tucked the instrument under his chin, carefully held his bow and placed the hair on the A string and played. Kuroo focused intently on ensuring that his bow grip was loose, but secure, that his pinky and thumb were curved and that his bow was making straight lines across the string.
As Kuroo looked over to his teammates, he noticed Yaku’s shoulders starting to shake while he pointed a finger at him.
“I-Is that the best you can do?” Yaku nearly screamed, howling in laughter. “You’re not even moving your f-fingers!”
To Kuroo’s embarrassment, the rest of the team tried desperately to hold in their laughter and Lev deadpanned, “That kinda sucked, senpai.”
Stuttering out an indignant scoff, Kuroo’s brow furrowed, “I told you I just learned this today! A-and posture is important you heathens!” shaking his bow at Lev and Yaku.
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sokkascroptop · 4 years ago
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traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 12
part 1 | part 11 | part 13
A/N: Enjoy a fic where Katara is able to express her emotions to someone and not have to keep everything bottled up inside until she explodes in a blinding rage. The next couple parts are gonna be so angsty :) *Also, I never came right out and said this, but I allude to it a lot. Y/N is a tall bitch. That is all.*
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Katara peeked her head in. “Can we talk?”
The sound of her voice didn’t soothe any of Y/N’s fears. “Yeah, sure,” she said shakily. 
Y/N sat on her bed roll and left room for Katara to sit across from her. She pulled her knees up and played with her hands. They aren’t your friends. They aren’t your friends, Y/N chanted inside her head. She willed herself to take this well. She always knew this was going to be the ending, that this was going to happen–
“You know how you said I could talk to you?”
Y/N let out a huge breath she had been holding. Maybe this wasn’t a send off, no hey, thanks so much for your help so far, Sokka really appreciates you teaching him to sword fight, but we’re off with the Avatar now! 
“What’s wrong?” More importantly, what’s so wrong that you wanted to come to me to talk to? Y/N wanted to say. She settled herself a little more comfortably against the wall. “Is it about your dad?” Y/N guessed.
Katara froze, halfway between pulling her legs into cross them, her face a mask of shame. “Gods, is it so obvious?”
“Oh–um…” Y/N trailed off, not sure of what to say. 
“I don’t know why I feel this way,” Katara stuttered out.
“Don’t you think that you should talk to Sokka or Toph?” Y/N wasn’t sure that she was the best person to talk to about father-daughter relationships, seeing as she didn’t have one. They knew her better. Although, that might be the exact reason why she wasn’t going to them. 
“No,” Katara waved her hands. “Sokka, he wouldn’t get it. He loves my dad–not that I’m saying I don’t but–ugh,” Katara groaned and dropped her head in her hands. When she looked up again her eyelashes were wet. “Sokka doesn’t get what I’m feeling. I don’t understand what I’m feeling. I really do love Dad and I missed him every single day, but the moment I saw him I just felt this anger towards him. He was gone for so long and I was forced to grow up more than I should have with both my parents not being around. When I needed him the most he left. How–how can I just ignore that? How do you love someone and still be so unhappy with them?”
“Oh,” Y/N realized now what this was all about. Everything always comes back to Azula. Every decision she makes, every conversation she has, Azula still dominated her life. 
Y/N didn’t realize she started crying until Katara grabbed her hand. “No, no. I’m sorry! Don’t cry.”
Y/N squeezed Katara’s in a vice grip. “It’s not the same. Your dad, I’ve seen him look at you. He loves you and Sokka, he cares about you so much. He never meant to hurt you by leaving, but you don’t need to ignore it either. I love Azula because I’m weak. You love your dad because you know that no matter what he did, it was for the best even though it hurt.” Y/N wiped at her cheeks. “You need to talk to him. Tell him everything you told me. He’s probably hurting because you’ve shut him out, but he’ll understand.” 
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Katara sniffled. 
Y/N gave Katara’s hand another squeeze, not trusting her voice at the moment. She wished she had the courage to ask what was going to happen to her. It meant so much more now, but they were both teary-eyed and vulnerable; Y/N wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. 
There were always distractions on the deck while Y/N and Sokka sparred, other warriors stood around eating, talking, watching them; the two of them had gotten used to it and ignored most of the voices, focusing on the task at hand. The difference that morning being that Aang was awake, and Aang didn’t know that she wasn’t their enemy anymore. 
“What are you doing?!” Aang’s voice broke through her concentration. A small gust of wind knocked her to one knee. Sokka’s inexperience didn’t give him the ability to pull back when going in for a strike and his sword glanced across her leg. 
Y/N didn’t feel it right away, in fact she thought he had missed until she looked down and saw the hole in her pants and the blood seeping through the fabric. It was the first blood they’d draw while sparring, and in the back of Y/N’s mind, she was thankful it was hers and not Sokka’s. 
“Oh shit. Oh shit, I am so sorry.” Sokka grasped her wrist and pulled it away so he could look at the wound. “Katara?!”
“It’s just a scratch.” Y/N waved her away after noticing that Aang was leaning heavily on his staff after airbending at her. “I’m fine, Katara.” 
“It’s like the size of my hand. Let her heal it,” Sokka protested. 
“Sokka,” Y/N growled through her teeth. “Let her help Aang first.” 
---
“Sorry, Aang. We should have told you when you woke up last night. I just didn’t want to overwhelm you,” Katara explained as she mended the gash on Y/N’s leg. The water soothed the sting, and when she was done all that was left was a pink scar. 
Aang rubbed his neck. “Sorry, Y/N.”
“No harm done. I probably would have reacted the same way if I saw someone beating up on my friend,” Y/N reassured. 
“You weren’t beating up on me,” Sokka muttered. He was quickly silenced with an elbow to the ribs, courtesy of Toph. 
“Maybe we should tell Twinkle-Toes what’s happened these last couple weeks.”
“Right, so after Ba Sing Se, we had to get you to safety. We went to Chameleon Bay and found Dad and the rest of his fleet. But the bay was full of Fire Nation ships and we wouldn’t stand a chance against them. So, we stole one.” Sokka gestured happily around him.
“So, what now?” Aang asked. “What are we going to do now that I’m awake?”
“My dad and I have been working on the invasion plan,” Sokka said. 
Y/N knew of the invasion plan. They didn’t act like they were trying to hide the plans from her, but it wasn’t like they included her in them either. 
“We won’t have the Earth King’s armies but we’ll have our allies from the Earth Kingdom, the eclipse and a surprise on our side.” Sokka wiggled his eyebrows. 
“What’s the surprise?” Aang asked suspiciously.
“You! The whole world thinks you’re dead! Isn’t that great?” Sokka jumped to his feet.
“Great?!” Aang stood up too, albeit unsteady, and leaned over the railing. “That’s terrible!”
“No, it’s great.” Sokka countered. “The Fire Nation won’t be hunting us anymore and they won’t expect you the day of Black Sun.” 
“No, no, no! You have no idea. This is so messed up!” Aang ran his hands through his short hair and opened his mouth to say something else when a foghorn interrupted him. 
Everyone’s faces whipped around in the direction of the sound. A Fire Nation ship was approaching. 
---
The five of them huddled on the staircase that led below deck, each one peeking their eyes (or ears) over the railing to catch what was happening. A metal gangplank was dropped between the ships and two soldiers and their captain approached Bato and Hakoda. Words were exchanged between the men but Y/N couldn’t hear a thing. 
“Gods, he looks familiar,” Y/N mumbled to herself. 
“Something’s wrong. They know!” Toph grabbed the edge and was about to haul herself over to tell everyone. 
But Y/N grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. “Wait.”
“What?!” she shrieked. 
Y/N ran up the steps. Sokka grabbed her calf but she shook him off and put on her most confident walk; long legged strides and her billowing cape hid her shaking hands. Y/N still wasn’t sure what she was doing. 
“Captain, what is going on?” She blinked at Hakoda and begged the spirits to tell him what she was doing. 
“My Lady,” He said gravely and Y/N held back a smile. “This Captain tells us that we need to be headed back to Ba Sing Se to support the occupation there.”
“Absolutely not!” She shouted.  
She stepped up on the gangplank and walked towards the three enemy soldiers who had frozen in the middle at her voice. “What is your name?” she pointed at the Captain.
He looked at her, taken aback. “I am Captain Sato. And who are you?” 
His eyes moved up and down her body and she stood a little taller. She put on her most diplomatic voice. “My name is Y/N, daughter of Commander Zhang. Right now you are delaying a very important mission. I command you to disembark our ship immediately and let us be on our way.”
Captain Sato let out a chuckle. “And what mission would that be? Your Captain is heading in the opposite direction of where he should be going and doesn’t even know which Admiral is in charge.” 
“That’s the point, you idiot! I’m on a secret mission for Fire Princess Azula; one of which you aren’t privy to the facts of and neither are they! Get off my ship!” 
He took an intimidating step towards her but Y/N didn’t back down. “I will be sending a messenger hawk to Capital City to confirm this, of course.” His voice was slimy, and she finally knew where she recognized him from. Some dinner party or something. His eyes always lingered too long. 
“You can do that, but know that I will be sending my own to make sure you are stripped of your title, stripped of your ship and you will go back to the Fire Nation as a disgrace. How does that sound, Captain Sato?” she sneered. 
She was met with silence. His face was red and he was breathing heavily. He wasn’t going to risk his job for his, Y/N knew it. “You’re free to go, My Lady.”
“Yes I am,” she growled. 
She marched back to Hakoda and Bato with wide eyes. She stood shoulder to shoulder with them as the Fire Nation ship pulled away. 
Toph grabbed her from behind and spun her around. “Y/N, I laughed so hard when you said you were going to strip him of his title, I thought they were going to be able to hear me.” The younger girl threw her head back and laughed some more. “Who even says ‘privy’?”
“You did good, kid.” Hakoda patted her shoulder, and that little action took a huge weight off her shoulders. Y/N let herself laugh loudly and freely along with Toph; she laughed so hard that she could barely pull a breath back in. 
“I–I don’t even remember what I said. I think I blacked out.” Y/N giggled again and she felt good. 
---
The ship docked in a Fire Nation port at dusk. Food was getting low on the ship but that was just the essentials they needed. It was also exhausting being at sea for so long. They all needed to stretch their legs on dry land. 
Toph, Sokka and Y/N waited just inside of town. It was beginning to get dark outside and Sokka was pacing. “Where are they? I’m starving.” 
“Calm down, Snoozles,” Toph said. “Katara said they’d be right behind us.”
“But what if they got captured? We are in the Fire Nation.” Without meaning it, he looked very pointedly at Y/N. She in turn, focused her eyes anywhere but him. 
“Wait!” Toph said. “I can hear Katara…” She trailed off and gave them both a confused look. “It’s just Katara.”
Y/N followed Sokka and Toph as they ran to meet her. 
“There you are!” Katara’s cheeks were red from running. “Aang is gone.”
“What? Where did he go?” Sokka inquired. 
“I don’t know! He said–he said he needed to redeem himself. He took his glider and left! I think he wants to finish this on his own. He said he needed to defeat the Fire Lord alone.” Katara shook her head, not even she could understand the reasoning behind it. 
“Well come on! We have to go find him!” Toph was already running back in the direction of the ship. Y/N hesitated, but then followed them. The least she could do is give them a proper send off when they took Appa. 
---
Katara climbed up and took the reins while Sokka and Toph clamored up into the saddle. Y/N opened her mouth, but she didn’t even know what to say. Was good-bye something even appropriate? Good luck? Sokka interrupted her thoughts and she realized she was standing there staring at them like a fish out of water. “What are you doing?”
“Saying goodbye?” Y/N replied. 
“Why are you saying goodbye?” Toph asked. She nudged Sokka in the arm. “Why is she saying goodbye?” 
“I’m not a part of your team.” Sokka and Katara shared a look. Y/N felt stupid, like she was missing something very important. 
“You’re coming with us,” Katara declared. “We thought you knew. You became a part of this the moment you fought with us, fought for us. Aang would want you here. I–We want you here.”
Y/N couldn’t help the small smile that drifted across her face. Finally, here was her answer. And it was as simple as Sokka leaning down to grab her hand and help her climb up Appa. She finally had a cause that she could be proud to serve. Because this was what it was all for; uniting the nations. And here they were, five kids doing it themselves on the back of a sky bison.
---
A/N: How do we feel, guys? Send me asks and messages bc i love hearing your feedback ❤️
I think I’m gonna let Toph say fuck in this fic. I don’t know exactly how Katara’s healing powers work when it comes to severity of wounds so I’m just making it up as I go. Also, I don’t know if I’ve made Y/N sound passive at all because of how Azula treated her but I want all of you to know that that is not her in my head at all. She is aggressive and vindictive, and despite all of her internal monologuing, she actually hates being told what to do. 
Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon @reclusive-chicken-nugget @astroninaaa @aangsupremacy @beifongsss @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx @littlefluu @lozzybowe @thebluelcdy @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey @fanficdepot @teenbiology @13-09-01 @riespage @davnwillcome @naanlianid @creation-magician @lunariasilver @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng @rockinearthbending-marauders @francesciak @thia-aep @aphrcditeee @milk-n-cheese @solarsuki @sendnuwudes @humbleseame @my--shitty--art @lovingcupcake51002 @loganrwebb
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notchesandbullets · 4 years ago
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Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)
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Part 14: Shinsou receives some surprising news, Eri-chan is adorable and Aizawa is 100% a proud dad. When you get back to Heights Alliance, Hagakure and Ashido have got a few tricks up their sleeves to push you and Ojiro together. Contains hints of all the ships: Kaminari x Jirou, Kirishima x Mina, Todoroki x Midoriya, Asui x Tokoyami. And a riveting game of truth or dare is finally enough for you and Ojiro to face the truth of the reason why your hearts beat so fast when you’re around each other.
Word Count: 9.9k
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That night when you got back to Heights Alliance, you were exhausted but at least it wasn't even near curfew yet.
During dinner, your dad had announced that he talked to the principal and they decided to allow him to fully transfer.
Shinsou's eyes were wide in shock as Aizawa elaborated that he would start classes in the hero course starting next week and Eri clapped her hands together jubilantly, diving in his lap to hug him around his waist.
"Toshi-nii, yayyy!!!"
Shinsou awkwardly patted her on the back, still reeling at the bomb his mentor had just dropped on him. He hadn't been expecting it so soon. According to his sensei's plan, he was supposed to undergo three more weeks of training and then a series of tests that would accurately assess whether or not his physical capabilities had improved enough to let him in.
But Aizawa had made a call, one that told Nezu that the teenager was more than ready to take on the challenges that would come with the transfer. He could handle it. He was more than prepared.
You had squealed happily once the news broke and eagerly asked if anyone else knew about it, to which your dad blankly stated that Nezu had only just informed him, so no, none of your nosy classmates were aware yet.
Shinsou jolted out of his trance when you ran over to him and shook him violently, almost dislodging Eri as you asked over and over again which class he was going to pick.
He stared at you incredulously. "What the heck— Class A, now stop shaking me!!"
You immediately released him and cheered loudly, grabbing Eri to dance while Aizawa sidled over to his student.
"You okay, kid?" He asked with a touch of concern as Shinsou didn't react.
Blinking, Shinsou nodded slowly. "I just... I didn't expect it to come so soon."
Aizawa shrugged. "Well, you worked hard. You should be proud of yourself."
Shinsou looked down and swallowed hard. Was he proud? He didn't know. It all felt so sudden.
Aizawa's eyes softened as he picked up on the turmoil swirling inside of the younger and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Don't think about it so much. You worked hard, you earned your spot, Toshi."
After a pause, Shinsou dipped his head in hesitant agreement and Aizawa frowned, understanding why he felt he couldn't celebrate yet but almost wished that he allowed himself this accomplishment.
He had worked extra hard on his training on top of all his other schooling. If anyone deserved this, he did.
Another hour passed and after dessert, Eri could barely keep her eyes open.
Aizawa was reluctant to let you and Shinsou take a cab back to the dorms by yourselves since it was already dark out but he had to put Eri to bed and he made you both promise to text him the second you got back.
And under no circumstances were you two allowed to leave each other's sides until he confirmed it with a message that he had gotten your text.
Neither you nor Shinsou had rolled your eyes at the demanding tone he took with you like you normally would have done. This was too important.
The twenty minute ride that followed was uneventful at best but perhaps that was a good thing. It meant that nobody suspicious was lingering around and causing trouble.
"Thank you for your hard work!!" You said, bowing your head as the driver tipped his head in your direction before speeding off.
Shinsou elbowed you in the ribs, stuffing his hands in his pocket to fish around for his phone for a second before he found it. White light blinded him for a second before he got a handle on the device and adjusted the brightness so that it was no longer glaring in his face.
Sending a quick message to his mentor to let him know that you had both made it back safely, he shoved it back in his pocket, heading in the direction of Class 1-C's dorms when you latched around his arm.
"Where are you going?!" You wailed, hanging onto him with the help of your tail as he furiously tried to throw you off.
"Ack, get off of me, you little leech." Shinsou hissed, only growing more annoyed when you shook your head stubbornly and stuck your tongue out at him childishly. "Geez, you're worse than Eri."
The affronted gasp you let out was all the incentive he needed to pry you off and race towards the dorms.
"TOSHI!!!!" You shouted as you barreled after him and he laughed, so openly and freely that you forgot to be mad at him for the comment you know he didn't mean about Eri.
He loved her, he really did, and you knew that the only reason why he said that was to rile you up and get under your skin so you would let go. You hated how it worked.
Waving goodbye for now, you two parted ways.
"Welcome back, L/N-san!!" Midoriya greeted earnestly as you stepped through the doors.
You skipped over to him, giving him a hug as a greeting and he stammered, clearly affected by your presence. Giggling, you took mercy on your friend and did a quick scan of the commons.
Tokoyami, Koda and Hagakure were studying on the couches, Kirishima hanging over Koda's shoulders in an attempt to get the difficult material through his head.
Sato was in the kitchen, no surprise there, but the additional presence of Kaminari had you doing a double-take.
"Uh, are you sure he's meant to be there?" You asked skeptically, jabbing a thumb towards the electric blond who had his tongue poking out in concentration as he stirred something in a mixing bowl.
Sero barely spared a glance in the direction you pointed at, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he concentrated on beating Ashido in this round of Mario Cart.
"He hasn't burnt anything down or caused a power outage yet, so Iida says it's okay." He told you, cheering when he passed the finish line first.
As Ashido was left to pout, you observed Kaminari for a second longer. It was rare to see him so focused on a task, you were almost wondering what happened to him.
"Psst!!"
You leaned over as Hagakure gestured for you to come closer, envisioning the smirk the invisible girl must have had on her face as you complied.
"He's getting Sato-kun to teach him how to make chocolates for Jirou!!" She whispered to you so discreetly that none of the boys surrounding her picked up on it as they talked over the paper they had to finish by the end of this weekend.
Tonight wasn't a school night, thankfully, so everyone was a little more relaxed. Which, if you thought about it, actually made sense since less than half of the class that was downstairs was working on homework.
In the group of seven girls, it wasn't a secret that Jirou was harboring a bit of a crush on the electric blond, but what was a surprise to you was that those feelings looked like they were returned.
Your heart skipped a beat and you fought the urge to jump for joy, knowing full well that Jirou would not appreciate you spilling the beans on that secret.
It was just so cute!!
It was nowhere near Valentine's Day, so you wondered what got his heart twisted in a bunch to do this for her, but you couldn't say you were complaining. Practically the whole class was waiting for one of them to confess.
Ashido even managed to lock the two of them in a closet together but it didn't go anywhere, much to her dismay, and she spent the rest of the week dodging Jirou's earphone jack before she readily apologized and the other girl begrudgingly forgave her.
All of that going on took away from the fact that Kaminari's shoulders slumped in defeat as he trudged back to his room, locking himself away for the rest of the day. No one had noticed it except for Kirishima and Hagakure, who happened to look his way by chance.
You were glad that he was doing this though. Something told you he still intended to go after her until he worked up the courage to confess.
It was rather endearing.
Slinking stealthily to the stairwell to avoid drawing the attention of the rest of your classmates, you raced upstairs to the room of the one person you wanted to see the most since he wasn't on the common floor.
Knocking on the door, you bent over your knees and caught your breath before opening it a fraction when you heard him say you could come in.
"Hey," You said softly, bounding inside as he motioned invitingly and nuzzled the top of Ojiro's head from where he was seated at his desk, slaving away over the math problems he got assigned earlier that day.
He turned around the instant you stepped into the room, attention shifting over to you as his tail curled around you in a brief hug.
"You're back." Ojiro breathed in relief, his eyes flitting over you for a second. "Did you have fun?"
"Oh yeah," You giggled, flopping onto his bed, propping your head up with one hand. "Shinsou nearly won the last match they had."
Ojiro laughed, striding over to you and knelt down by your side. "Nearly?"
"Mmhm..." You hummed. "Dad put him in a headlock though that he couldn't get out of."
Ojiro smiled at your tease, shaking his head slightly but was ultimately glad that you were just happy. Even if it had been at the expense of Shinsou.
He was one of the only ones that knew exactly where Aizawa's flat was, that information strictly to be used in an emergency situation only.
The last thing Aizawa wanted was for them to destroy the peace and tranquility he had at home on his days off when he didn't have to deal with something being broken, set on fire, or carelessly thrown around that required funds to fix it.
No way.
The rest of his classmates were aware of how much time their teacher spent with you and Shinou outside of class but nobody minded the favoritism, all equally aware of how tough Aizawa got on you two especially during school.
With your background and Shinsou's aloofness, it was only natural for most of them to be glad that their sensei had taken to you two so well.
Most of them.
Bakugou had exploded on more than one account that he didn't care but in truth, he was just as curious to see where you and the brainwashing kid left after school. You both always came back rather late, it was odd.
Shoji had expressed his concern on more than one occasion, wondering if you really were safe enough to come back on your own after it got dark out but you waved him off, reassuring him that the phone Jirou had bought for you and taught you how to use was very effective in calling emergency services when you pressed a simple button.
You weren't worried. You felt safe.
Safer than you had in years.
You squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the bed even though nothing helped to quell the heat you felt creeping up your neck at Ojiro's closeness.
He raised an eyebrow and you swore you saw a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Y/N?"
That time, there was no mistaking the playful lilt in his voice and you fumbled, throwing the blankets up in your haste to hide under them.
Ojiro's voice was muffled when he called out to you and even though you tried desperately to block it out, nothing worked, your mortification only growing as he pinched a corner of your makeshift den, as though he was going to lift it up.
This wasn't fun. He got too much joy out of teasing you when you two were alone, it was so unfair!!
He always managed to catch you off-guard somehow, with those sweet smiles that radiated kindness and were the beacon of your hope.
It wasn't your fault!! You got flustered easily!!
Throwing off the blankets with a huff, you kept your arms pinned to your body as you pouted up at him.
"Don't tease me!!" You cried indignantly and he laughed.
"I'm not." Ojiro replied but the twinkle in his eye all but gave him away.
You pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You are!!"
Chuckling, Ojiro caught your hand when it flailed in his direction and lowered it gently. "Okay, maybe I am."
"See?!"
As he laughed again, you pushed your bottom lip out even further but when it clearly wasn't dying down, you shuffled back under the blankets until only the top of your head peeked out.
"Y/N, come on out." Ojiro tried to coax, biting his lip when your ears flopped around as you shook your head stubbornly. "I'm sorry for teasing you."
At the genuine tone, you cautiously pulled down the covers, gazing at him suspiciously. "You are?"
Ojiro nodded. "Yes."
As you sat up, satisfied with his apology, you squeaked in surprise when he accidentally leaned closer to you in the process.
Neither one of you expected that proximity. You blushed and stammered while Ojiro ducked his head down to avoid your gaze.
Nothing could be heard except your breathing and the rustle of his tail as he accidentally knocked something over, both of you wincing as the silence was broken.
You giggled slightly, feeling a bit ridiculous. "Mashirao?"
You almost fell over when you caught his eye, the sheer amount of tenderness in his gaze making your heart pound and blood rushed to your head when he hugged you carefully.
"I'm sorry, you're just... very easy to fluster." He said slowly, choosing his words carefully, wondering if you could somehow hear how hard his heart was pounding.
"Oh..." You trailed off quietly, unsure about how that made you feel. So he was teasing you. That hurt a bit more than you thought it would.
But Ojiro's arms tightened around you when you tried to wrangle free, sensing your sadness as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "Wait, I didn't word that right."
You could barely breathe, not daring to take a breath for fear that this moment would shatter. The atmosphere was heavy and it felt as though an invisible tapestry had draped over you both, only to be lifted when he got the courage to say what was weighing on his heart.
"It's... very cute." Ojiro admitted sheepishly, growing shy as you blinked at him innocently. "You're... cute."
His hesitation probably should have raised red flags but they didn't, and that was because you knew he was being completely honest with you. He was never one to waste breath on saying something he thought was unimportant.
It was odd, the giddiness that overcame you as you bumped your nose against his, a spark of joy running through your system as you heard him voice that he thought you were cute.
"Really?!"
Ojiro laughed breathlessly. "Yeah."
It was short but it was sweet. You nudged his jaw and he tilted it instinctively to let you scent him. Sighing when his comforting scent flooded over you, you snuggled into his neck, closing your eyes as he hugged you closely.
You could feel his solid body pressing against yours, it was warm and safe. It felt like home.
Ojiro's eyebrows furrowed slightly as he caressed your hair, drawing back to whisper into your ear before he lost his nerve.
"Y/N, there's one more thing I want to tell you."
You hummed, your tail wagging in lazy eagerness as the appendage answered for you and he laughed nervously, his own tail flexing anxiously as he thought about what he was finally going to confess.
What he was finally going to say after a whole month of debating about it.
His feelings went deeper than a crush. He knew that much. Every time you walked into the room, he was left wondering when you would come over to him and every time you left, he always worried about where you were going and if you were safe.
Nothing set his heart at ease other than having you in his arms after a long day of classes and rigorous training. There was nothing like inhaling your sweet scent and breathing you in until you both fell asleep in each other's arms, limbs tangled together on his bed or yours.
How a proud smile never failed to appear on his face whenever you worked your way through something that was difficult, whether it was an emotional or physical barrier that prevented you from achieving what you wanted to achieve.
You were brave. You were kind. And you were so strong.
Ojiro took a deep breath. "I lov—"
A sharp knock at the door interrupted him, effectively making the two of you spring apart and shattering the bubble you had been in.
“Downstairs in ten minutes!!!” Hagakure’s voice floated through the door as she jumped up and down excitedly outside. “And no excuses, we’re playing a game!!”
The rapid footfalls signaled that she had scampered away, presumably to rope the rest of your friends into this little game that she had schemed up on the fly. 
You glanced at Ojiro, clapping a hand over your mouth when he stood up and almost tripped.
“I’m sorry—” You giggled, unable to help it at the mock insulted look on his face. “I don’t know why I’m laughing!!”
You really didn’t. You certainly didn’t think it had anything to do with how fast your heart was beating at how close he was to saying something you dearly hoped wasn’t a trick of your mind.
You guessed you would never know now. 
Timidly taking his hand as he offered it to you, you bit back a smile as he grabbed your favorite plushie and handed it to you.
“We’re going down now?” You asked curiously as he led you out and closed the door behind him. “Hagakure said we don’t need to be downstairs until ten more minutes.”
Ojiro shrugged slightly, giving you a small smile. “I don’t want them to take all the good seats.”
Throwing your head back, you laughed at the cheeky reply as the two of you made your way to the vacant common floor.
The TVs had been turned off as well as all the lights and you didn’t bother turning them on as you got comfortable on one of the couches in the living area.
Five minutes passed.
You wriggled on Ojiro’s lap, trying to contain your excitement. It was almost 11 pm at night, way past Bakugou’s bedtime, and you were currently keeping yourself occupied until everyone else got down here, wondering what Hagakure had planned for tonight.
Given no other explanation, you played with your lion plushie while you waited for her to come back and explain what was going on. 
“Y/N…” Ojiro said with a smile and you froze in place. 
Willing your tail to calm down and stop tickling his face, you giggled as he rested his chin on top of your shoulder, your cheeks pinking. 
“Sorry…” You said sheepishly but he shook his head.
“It’s okay.” He chuckled, holding back a fond smile.
You were playing with Koko to keep yourself entertained while you waited and his heart warmed when you dropped a kiss on its fuzzy head. It wasn’t as though you didn’t use the presents that your friends gave you but this was special because this was the one he had given to you.
And this was the one you held every night before you went to sleep.
Everyone else came in a slow trickle, most of the boys obviously skeptical of how Ashido managed to get them all roped up in it. 
“What’s all of this about?” Kirishima asked earnestly, pulling his stubborn best friend who was violently protesting the entire way behind him that this was a waste of time and that he needed his sleep.
Somehow, he had managed to bring Bakugou along. You weren’t sure that was a win though, with how disgruntled the explosion boy looked from being woken up.
“Why do I have to be here?” Jirou grumbled, dragging her feet as Ashido tugged her along.
“Because~” The pink girl whined. “It’ll be fun!!”
“This is not my idea of fun.” She sighed but reluctantly caved in and took a seat next to Shoji, sitting cross-legged on the couch and twirled one of her jacks around a finger.
Ashido clapped her hands to garner everyone’s attention, smiling widely. 
You snuggled further into Ojiro, wanting nothing more than to curl up and take a nap on him. You had thought you would be more nervous around him after what you thought he had almost said before he was interrupted but there was nothing other than the pleasant hum of your heart. 
 Today had been taxing with news that Shinsou’s dream was finally going to be put into motion and you really didn’t want to do anything else besides sleep in his embrace. His hand landed on top of your head and he stroked your hair evenly until you almost drifted off. 
That was, until you heard what Hagakure announced next.
“Let’s play truth or dare!!!” She squealed and you nearly fell off of Ojiro in shock. 
Eyes wide in horror, you could practically see the mischievous glint in her eye and your mind raced at a mile per minute. 
Oh no, no, no, no, no—
“Y/N’s going first!!” Hagakure shouted.
“No way!!” You sputtered in disbelief, cheeks coloring as all eyes turned on you. “Why do I have to go first?!”
Sensing your unease, Ojiro intervened.
“Maybe we should play another game?” He suggested diplomatically.
Ashido pouted, planting her hands on her hips. “Noooooo I have a question I want to ask Kirishima really bad!!”
Kirishima blinked in shock and pointed to himself as though he couldn’t believe that out of everyone, she had something to ask him. “Me?”
Your shoulders sagged in relief as she hadn’t called you out but that didn’t make you any less wary of her or Hagakure’s intentions. They were both well known for being deceptively crafty when it came to anything romance related and you were sure you weren’t safe just because you were friends.
Todoroki had Soba in his lap and was petting him idly, largely ignoring the chaos raging around him while everyone bickered about the order to go in.
Yaoyorozu and Midoriya pitched in that there should be an impartial game of chance to determine who was going first, Iida echoing their reasoning with swift hand chops and a shout that could be heard above the clamor.
Eventually, for fairness, Ashido ended up using Aoyama’s idea of putting everyone’s name in a hat that Yaoyorozu created for random drawing.
The person selected could ask anyone a question, even if they’ve already gone and once they’re done, the selectee picks another name from the hat. 
No matter if the person picked truth or dare, if the person doesn’t want to answer the question or do the dare, they’d have to prank Aizawa.
During class. In front of everyone as proof.
And no one wanted to cross their homeroom teacher. Not even you wanted to take chances with your dad. He could be extremely scary when woken up from his nap during homeroom and no one was willing to take a chance on their life just to avoid answering a question or to negate a silly dare.
Because everyone knew that their lives would be at stake if it boiled down to their furious homeroom teacher who had been disrupted by their antics.
With that, the game began.
Surprisingly, Yaoyorozu got drawn first, and being the kind person she was, she asked Uraraka if she would like to go on an all-paid-for shopping spree the next day they had off, to which Uraraka promptly burst into tears at her friend’s generosity, blubbering out an agreement of sorts.
Once she collected herself, Uraraka drew next, getting Koda and asked him if there were any pets that he would like to own. He shyly signed that he had been wanting to take care of a Mamushi, a Japanese pit viper, but was uncertain about how Kawaii-chan would deal with the snake if and when he got one. 
The stunned silence that followed was not surprising since this was so far left-field, it even caught Bakugou off-guard. 
Koda drew from the hat, sweating nervously when he opened it up and saw the name.
“... Bakugou…”
Bakugou’s forehead irked in annoyance. 
“Dare.” He spat before Koda even got a chance to ask him.
Koda’s nervousness grew to unprecedented levels at the red aura emitting from the enraged pomeranian, stumbling over his words so much so that you felt bad for him. He could barely form his thoughts, let alone get his words out.
“I dare you to be nice to Midoriya for one day.” Koda said quietly, shaking frightfully as the aura increased to murderous and he squeaked, absolutely petrified.
Ashido slapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing as Sero and Kaminari promptly burst into tears of hysteria, smacking their thighs as they howled in laughter.
“Bakugou, that’s enough.” Shoji instructed evenly, shielding Koda before the seething teen could jump on him, though it did nothing to stop the sparks from popping in his hand.
“Why the fuck do I have to be nice to shitty Deku?!” Bakugou exploded, whirling around at the sound of a throat clearing calmly.
“Are you saying you can’t do it?” You asked slyly without cracking an eye open and Ojiro nearly lost it.
Bakugou scowled. “Like hell I can’t!!”
“Well then!!” You clapped your hands, sitting up as you flashed him a cheeky grin. “Then this should be no problem for the number one hero, right?”
Bakugou growled at you but he knew he had landed himself in this trap. You had covered it with honey and like an idiot, he went after it. 
“Fuck.” He hissed under his breath, snapping around to face a petrified Midoriya head-on. “I’m going to fucking kill you—”
“Ah, ah, ah!!” You tsked, wagging a finger at him. “Play nice, remember? 24 hours starts now.”
Bakugou raged for a good five minutes before sitting down heavily, glaring holes into the back of Midoriya’s head. 
You flashed Koda a thumbs-up and he smiled at you gratefully for enforcing the dare he wouldn’t have been able to do. 
The next several rounds passed by in the blink of an eye. 
Bakugou dared Aoyama to go outside and yell that he loves cheese, Tokoyami got dared by Aoyama to go the entirety of next week without wearing black, and Tokodoki was dared to leave Soba in the care of Bakugou, to which he promptly responded that he’d rather pour water over Aizawa’s head.
Next week was going to be interesting. 
You giggled at the horrified expression on Tokoyami’s face that he had to go without all next week without wearing his favorite color, so much so that you missed your name being called until Ashido and Hagakure screamed excitedly.
“Y/N!!!!!”
You nearly jumped ten feet into the air. “AHHH, WHAT?!?!”
Ashido grinned, rubbing her hands evilly. Todoroki had just gotten done asking her a question about what her favorite food was. 
“Oh, Y/N-chan~” Ashido sang and you sweated nervously, subconsciously leaning back into Ojiro’s chest as she trained her golden irises glimmering with mischief on you.
Hagakure tugged on her sleeve, whispering something in her ear and a crafty grin spread across her lips. 
“Truth or dare?!”
“T-Truth…?” You stammered out uncertainly, wary of that look in her eye. 
Your heart plummeted as Ashido clapped her hands gleefully.
Oh no.
Ashido wasted no time leaning forward and peering at you with her eyes gleaming. 
“Do you have a crush on anyone?” She asked cheekily, already knowing the answer thanks to your slip up the last time all you girls had gathered. 
Your fingers halted from where they were playing with Ojiro’s hands and you squeaked. 
Behind you, Ojiro went rigid as he tensed underneath you and his breath hitched, unconsciously waiting for your answer along with the rest of your classmates. 
Playing with your tail anxiously, your ear twitched and heat warmed your face, setting it on fire the instant her question hit you. 
Biting your lip, you uttered quietly a noise of confirmation that had Hagakure squealing and Ashido jumping for joy.
The majority of the boys looked shocked but Bakugou rolled his eyes, thinking everyone had to be blind not to see it.
“Who is it?!” Hagakure demanded, trying to get you to admit it and you just flashed her a smile.
“Nope, I already answered the question.” You said, grinning widely at her whine, thinking you found a loophole to this little game of cat and mouse they were playing with you.
Despite her protests and Ashido’s pouts, you drew another name from the hat, passing the torch of attention over to Sato as he was picked. 
Once he picked truth, you eagerly asked Sato if he would ever open his own bakery one day and he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully as he said he always wanted to but he wasn’t sure that his creations were good enough.
You shouted incredulously, blurting out that you thought they were amazing along with the rest of the girls, Shoji even inputting that he thought that as well.
“These truths are so tame.” Kaminari complained after almost everyone had gone once. “There needs to be more dares.”
“Ooooo, then why don’t we switch it up!!” Uraraka said, her eyes shining excitedly at the prospect of a challenge. “Only dares from now on!!”
“Eh?!” You yelped. “What, why?!”
“YES, GREAT IDEA!!!!” Ashido squealed and you groaned, burying your face in your hands. 
“No…” You moaned. 
Aside from knowing that they had something up their sleeves planned for you, you were really not looking forward to doing whatever that was. You didn’t want to be involved in any of this or have anybody’s attention on you, all you wanted to do was watch your friends have fun. 
This was going to be a disaster. 
Ojiro chuckled as Kirishima threw an empty paper plate in Bakugou’s face but even he couldn’t stop his heart from palpitating and he prayed that you couldn’t feel it against your back. 
You hugged Koko to your chest anxiously as the dares got more and more bold, elaborate and downright ridiculous. 
Asui got dared to peck Tokoyami on the cheek, Sero got challenged to a match with Bakugou the next time they trained together and Yaoyorozu had to go without buying anything from online stores for three days. 
The only reason why Sero didn’t make it involve all the stores was because he knew she’d go crazy.
And then, the dreaded time for your second turn came around. 
Luckily, neither Ashido or Hagakure drew your name, it was Yaoyorozu instead. 
Her eyes were sympathetic as she regarded your fidgeting form. 
“Y/N-chan,” She started, loud enough for everybody to hear. “You must spend 30 minutes with Ojiro-san in the pantry.”
It was silent at first, then the uproar started.
“WHAT?!?!” You shrieked, your face bright red.
You couldn’t see it, but Ojiro was wearing an identical expression of shock and embarrassment as Jirou laughed along with Uraraka and Kaminari, Iida loudly shouting for them to have some restraint.
“Go go go!!!” Ashido and Hagakure cheered together, yanking you up to your feet while Sato hauled Ojiro up to his, subsequently pushing the two of you together until you fell inside the pantry.
You immediately fell and Ojiro toppled in after you.
The lock that clicked sealed your fate and you whimpered at the sudden darkness that encompassed the two of you.
Ojiro’s eyebrows scrunched together in the dark, concerned that you had hurt yourself. “Y/N?”
You feebly answered that you were okay, knowing that he must be worried about you, and your hands knocked into his as you scoured the tiled floor on all fours, searching for your fallen plushie in the cramped space.
“Koko…” You whined, your eyes lighting up when your fingers brushed against something soft.
You could almost hear the smile in Ojiro’s voice. “That’s my tail.”
You drew back, yelping in pain as the back of your head banged against the shelf and a lump got caught in your throat when Ojiro scrambled over you.
“Y/N!! Are you okay?!”
You mumbled out an embarrassed yes, losing your ability to say anything else as he pressed up against you. He was so close.
Too close.
There was almost no breathing room between you two and all you could feel, hear, and sense was Ojiro’s labored breathing and the soft swish that his tail made as he balanced himself over you so he wouldn’t crush you.
A pout formed on your lips and even though he couldn’t see it, you made sure that the forlorn whine in your tone carried through. “Koko…”
Ojiro fingers clumsily found yours and he breathed a sigh of relief at having found where you were. “I’m sure you just dropped her outside.”
You hummed disappointedly, ears flicking as you heard the conversation pick back up outside, indicating that the rest of your scheming friends resumed their game. At least you were in here and not out there in this predicament. 
You didn’t want to know what they would say if they say you guys like this.
“Um, Mashirao?” You whispered, scooting up a little bit so that you were sitting on your bottom.
It was a bit awkward. His knees bumped into yours more than once as he figured out how to situate himself and you squeaked when he pressed against you in an attempt to find space somewhere. 
Repeating his name when he had settled down, opting for slotting his legs around yours that were propped up so that he was no longer crowding you, you sighed to yourself.
“How long do you think it’s been?” You asked curiously, oblivious to the crimson staining his cheeks due to the lack of light.
Ojiro cleared his throat, forcing his tail to stop swishing nervously, lest he knock something over and clue you in on his anxiousness. Being in here with you and being this close was making his heart pound and his palms sweat. 
It was too much, and at the same time, not enough.
Because he still had yet to tell you how he felt.
“Y/N—” He started quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
You were startled since you thought that he would just want to sit in silence until the time was up and you found yourself nodding instinctively before you realized he couldn't see you. 
“Y-Yes, of course you can.” You stammered out, cursing yourself for your inability to form a coherent sentence without stumbling over your words when you were around him.
Once. Just once you wanted to know what it was like to speak with complete and utter self-control and clarity when it came to him. 
Your massive crush on him probably wouldn’t ever let you.
Ojiro played with his tail absentmindedly, able to find a sliver of comfort in the familiar way it felt in his hands as he prepared himself for the inevitable heartbreak. “Who… Who do you like?”
You froze and you swore the temperature in the cluttered pantry dropped by several degrees.
“W-What?!” You squeaked.
“Earlier, when Ashido asked if you liked anyone… you said yes.” Ojiro reiterated, avoiding looking at you even though he knew you wouldn’t judge him.
Not that you could, you could barely make out his shape in this darkened place. 
“I-I—”
You couldn’t come up with an excuse for that one. 
Ojiro’s tone morphed into curiosity. “What are they like?”
The underlying sadness went unnoticed as you frantically tried to think of a way out of this situation and you tripped over your words in your haste to get out.
“I… You… Argh!!”
Ojiro nearly jumped out of his skin as empty cans clattered down on the floor from where your tail had gone rogue and knocked them all off of the shelf. They really should get rid of those and free up some more space in the endlessly full pantry but Asui liked to use the empty ones for growing water lilies when they were nothing more than just a pink or white bud. 
“... Y/N?” Ojiro prompted, hearing you go quiet.
You hesitated. You really didn’t want to say this but all your thoughts were filled with him and only him. You hardly knew at this point if it was because you were actively trying not to think about him that made things this way or if you were really just that obsessed with him.
I’m screwed, aren’t I?
“He’s kind.”
Ojiro broke out of his stupor once he realized you had actually answered him.
You smiled softly to yourself, envisioning the dumbfounded look that must be on his face, knowing that’s how he got every single time you said something about him. 
“He’s sweet, not just to me, but to everyone else.” You continued quietly. “His eyes always light up when something makes him happy and he’s such a good friend…”
Ojiro felt like he was hearing all of this underwater as you continued to speak so highly of this mystery guys, his heart breaking with every word you said. And he thought he was so sure that if you didn’t return his affections, that you at least thought of him as a good friend but now he wasn’t so sure after hearing all of that.
It seemed like this guy that you were crushing on hung the stars in the sky. You spoke of him like he was your whole world.
Ojiro swallowed thickly, blinking back tears.
Maybe this guy could take better care of you than he could.
You couldn’t see it but you sensed the mood change in the air and shifting to move onto your hands and knees, you padded forward curiously, nervously wondering if he had figured it out and didn’t return your feelings.
Pushing that aside once your ears picked up on the sound of his sniffles, your brow creased in concern, worried about him.
“M-Mashirao?! Are you okay?!” You asked frantically, keeping your voice low so that you didn’t draw the attention of your friends outside. This would be the worst possible moment for them to open the door. 
“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m fine.” Ojiro managed to respond, closing his eyes briefly to gather himself. “Don’t worry, okay?”
Your being filled with apprehension as his hand skimmed the side of your face to find it in the dark before plopping on top of your head to ruffle your hair reassuringly. But you let out a slight whine when he pulled away quicker than normal.
“You don’t sound fine…” You whimpered worriedly, nudging your nose against his hand as you located it easily. 
While your eyes took a longer time to adjust seeing in the dark, your senses were sharp and you detected his ragged breathing as well as how his hands drew back before fisting at his sides.
He definitely wasn’t okay. 
And you thought you might be imagining it, but was that hurt in his voice that he tried to mask? Was he offended that you thought so highly of him?
Ojiro’s eyes glazed over as he heard you whimper sadly and he sucked in a breath. And even though his heart was shattered, he still wrapped his arms around you and tugged you close to him.
“Y/N, I—” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, unable to form the words he wanted to say and he sighed. “I hope you find happiness.”
You blinked up at him, tucking in your knees tight. You couldn’t relax against him, physically incapable of it since the comfort his presence usually brought you was nowhere to be found at the heavy sadness in his tone. 
You stuttered, “I-I— Mashirao, I—”
“You don’t have to tell me who it is.” Ojiro said sorrowfully, hushing you quietly as his jaw clenched in jealousy. “I just hope that Shinsou’s able to protect you well enough.”
Bolting upright at the shock of his name, your jaw dropped. “Shinsou?!”
Ojiro cocked his head to the side. “Isn’t it him?”
You shook your head so fast that he felt the air whip around him from the force of your hair flying. 
“Todoroki?” 
Another head shake, faster than the last.
“Sato?”
No.
“Shoji?”
No.
“Kaminari?”
No.
“Bakugou?”
No!!
Ojiro was running out of options. “Then who? Is he in our grade?”
“It’s you!!” You blurted out in frustration, unable to prevent yourself from holding back any longer. 
Ojiro’s entire body tensed in shock, his eyes going wide at your confession and the hands on your waist stilled as he sucked in a sharp breath.
You pounded your fists on his chest, your head falling on his shoulder, unconsciously leaning into him and seeking him out as your anxiety took over.
“You dummy.” You mumbled, shaking in fear of a rejection. 
You should’ve been more prepared for this. As the time ticked by, he still failed to say anything in response and your heart was going into overdrive. 
Pushing his hands away, you tried to untangle from him but that apparently disrupted whatever trance he was in because his arms tightened around you, preventing you from getting up.
“No, wait—” Ojiro protested, his mind spiraling as he tried to collect his thoughts before you could leave. “Y/N!!”
Your skin prickled with unease at hearing him call it out so panicked, like he was afraid he’d lose you. You were the one who was worried about that, why should he care so much?
“It’s fine.” You sniffled, wiping your nose furiously with the back of your hand as you attempted to backpedal again, only to be stopped by his strong arms. “Ojiro-san, let go—”
“Mashirao.” Ojiro corrected brokenly. “You… My name, call me by my given name.”
You swallowed hard, shaking your head against his shoulder as he squeezed you closely to him and you squirmed. You thought you had lost that privilege to call him by his first name, the intimacy a sour taste in your mouth as you realized that some other girl would get to call him that one day.
“Y/N.”
You stopped fighting against him but refused to meet his gaze.
Ojiro’s hand slid under your jaw, tipping your head up and this close, you could see his eyes shining with emotion.
“It’s you.” He murmured breathlessly, his eyes softening as they filled with the deepest amount of pure love. “It’s always been you, Y/N.”
Gasping, you nearly choked as he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath puffing out over your cheeks and you giggled uncontrollably as he pulled your legs across his, tucking your head under his chin. 
“You were talking about me?”
The disbelief in his voice had you wiggling out from under him.
“Yeah,” You blushed, thinking about how much you gushed about him before he actually knew that you were referring to him. You thought it was obvious that you were talking about him. “Was— I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Ojiro bumped his nose against yours reassuringly. “You didn’t.”
He could have hid it better if you were so close to him but since you were, you could feel the air around you stir as his tail thumped happily against the wall. 
Though, you couldn’t blame him. Yours was just as bad, hitting his side every time and you were about to apologize when he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.
“I love you.” Ojiro confessed softly, his heart pounding in his ears as he finally told you what he had wanted to tell you for so long. 
From the very first moment he saw you, he knew he wanted to protect you. He wasn’t sure when that feeling morphed into something stronger, paired with the desire to call you his but the pang that went through his heart every single time he saw you with someone else clued him in that his feelings may have run deeper than he was willing to admit. 
You tried to stop it but a wide smile still spread from ear to ear and your heart skipped a beat. “You do?”
He nodded, bending his knees slightly to bring you impossibly closer and you giggled at the action, recalling what had happened before Hagakure had accidentally interrupted you.
“Is that what you were about to say earlier?” You asked curiously. 
Ojiro floundered for a second, trying to think of a half-believable excuse that you would take, but then realized he had nothing to hide now that you already knew. He chuckled slightly and nodded, albeit nervous when you started playing with his hands.
“Y/N?” He whispered, his exhales hitting the top of your head as he held you.
You smiled to yourself, unable to explain the happiness that swelled in your chest, skyrocketing the moment he said that.
“I love you too.” You replied softly. 
As cheesy as it sounded, it was true. 
He was your first friend, your first confidant, the first person you fell in love with and now, your first boyfriend. He was the person you trusted the most next to your dad.
You laughed slightly, your tail fluffing out in embarrassment, unsure of why you were laughing but you supposed it had something to do with the fact of the astonishment that your pining after him hadn’t been for nothing.
It was mutual.
To be honest, your head was still reeling and you weren’t sure you were going to be coming down from cloud nine anytime soon. 
Ojiro smiled down at you fondly, his heart squeezing as you beamed up at him joyously. 
“Princess…” He murmured softly.
Your ears perked up happily and you rubbed your nose against the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. It rolled over you in waves and a happy rumble emitted from the back of your throat. 
“... I like it when you call me that…” You mumbled shyly, burrowing your face into his neck when he tried to catch a glimpse of your face.
Ojiro smiled, elated. “Princess~”
“Nooooooooo…” You whined, hitting his shoulder weakly. “Don’t tease me.”
He let out a small laugh, his eyes twinkling with humor. “Sorry, princess.”
“You don’t sound sorry at all.” You grumbled but you weren’t really upset about it. 
You couldn’t wait to hear it more often, more freely and similarly, Ojiro couldn’t wait to use it all the time since it was practically second nature to him by now. 
You were just so pure, so soft. Oh All Might, he loved you so much. 
It was close to a year since he first met you and he couldn’t help it. He fell for you so hard but he didn’t regret a thing. And he couldn’t wait to tell Holly. 
She would be jumping for joy the instant he told her, he could already see it. 
Ojiro tapped your knee lightly to catch your attention as you continued to trace random patterns on his chest. “... What do you think about messing with them a bit?”
You sat up straighter, knowing exactly who he was talking about, a mischievous grin slipping onto your face as he whispered the plan into your ear.
It was payback time. 
Half an hour went by rather quickly, most of Class 1-A eagerly awaiting to see what the current situation inside the pantry was.
Most were hoping that a confession of some sort had taken place, since Tokoyami was exasperated on how clueless the two of you were around each other. 
Seriously. 
You guys had been chasing each other for months now. Everyone was getting sick of the puppy love, memory on all of their phones stocked with snapshots of the two of you together when you were looking. 
At first it was cute, but honestly, seeing you chase your own tail would be more adorable and endearing than seeing the two of you stammer around each other like it was nobody’s business. 
Ashido and Uraraka hoped that you and Ojiro would be kissing when they threw open the door but that wasn’t exactly what the picture was. 
Instead, an image of you on the floor across from Ojiro greeted the entirety of the class.
Kaminari nearly fell off of Kirishima’s head from where he was stacked on top of him and Jirou’s eyes widened in surprise. 
Bakugou scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you extras damn long enough.”
There you sat. With a chip halfway to your mouth. 
“Seriously?!” Hagakure shrieked incredulously.
“I was hungry!!” You cried out, it coming out more muffled than you intended as your cheeks bulged hilariously. You looked more like a chipmunk in that moment rather than the wolf that you were.
“What’s your excuse?” Tokoyami asked blankly, catching his friend snacking alongside you.
Ojiro shrugged nonchalantly, popping a wasabi snack in his awaiting mouth and smacked his lips obnoxiously. “I was following her.”
Sero snickered and Kirishima grinned at his cheeky response. There was a glimmer in his eye that wasn’t present before and they knew that no matter how comfortable the two of you looked, something had changed between you.
Something for the better.
“THEY CONFESSED!!!!!” They chorused together, dancing around while wildly waving their arms about as they did a jig. 
You almost choked, cheeks going rosy. “Eh?! W-Wait—”
“FINALLY!!!!” Ashido squealed. “THAT TOOK FOREVER!!!”
Ojiro’s expression matched yours in terms of mortification and he leaned forward as you shuffled behind him to hide.
“Y/N, you alright?” He asked softly as your classmates continued to chime in with how long that took and how much things were going to change. 
You both blushed when Shoji told an excited Kaminari that it also meant you guys had the ability to kiss from now on, the girls cooing and most of the guys gagging. 
“Yeah, I-I’m okay…” You mumbled into his back, finishing the rest of your food and taking his hand that helped you up. “Thank you.”
Ojiro smiled at you and this time, in the light, you could see how clearly radiant he was. 
“You’re welcome.” He whispered quietly, hugging you once more before you both rejoined the chaos that was your class. 
It took another few minutes to actually make your way back to the common room couches where everyone else had gathered because you pouted and said you wanted to stay in his arms longer.
That, and Ojiro was weak when it came to you.
You bounced when you jumped onto the couch, Shoji steadying you when it looked like you were about to fall and you flashed him a grin in thanks. 
Shoji shook his head at your antics and Ojiro, who had been grabbing you a few more snacks from the pantry, rushed over, scanning over you to make sure you weren’t hurt. 
You popped a cookie in your mouth. “Wufdidwemwis?”
Jirou blinked. “What?”
Breaking off a piece, you smiled broadly and it only grew wider when Ojiro handed you the discarded lion plushie you had lost a hold on when you were yanked to your feet. Squealing happily, you hugged it tight to your chest, beaming up at him in thanks. 
“What did we miss?” You repeated, smothering Koko with hugs and kisses.
Todoroki didn’t even look like he moved once from his spot, in the exact same spot that you saw him last and he didn’t spare you a glance as he held up a feather just out of Soba’s reach so that he could bat at it playfully.
“Kaminari gave Jirou the chocolates he made for her, Ashido asked Kirishima out on a date and Asui has to go with Iida to switch out Aizawa-sensei’s sleeping bag to see if he notices it.” Todoroki relayed impassively before blinking once, realizing he had left one out.
“Oh, and Midoriya kissed me.” He deadpanned and your jaw fell to the floor.
“WHATTTTTT?!?!?!” You wailed. “I missed all of that?!?!?!”
Todoroki shrugged, playing with his kitten too much to pay any attention to your outcry. “It wasn’t much.”
“WASN’T MUCH?!?!?!”
He merely nodded. “I didn’t get to kiss him back.”
Ashido’s hand punched up in the air. “Next dare is for Todoroki to kiss Midoriya!!!”
“Okay.” Todoroki agreed, brushing off his clothes before getting close to a flushed Midoriya, yanking him over to smash his lips onto his.
The whoops and hollers echoed throughout the common floor, even Bakugou smirking as the damn nerd owned up to his crush. It was fucking weak to hold out for that long. 
Confrontations were for the strong and brave of heart, just like he was. 
Proudly, he watched from the sidelines. They were all shitty extras but they were his circle of extras and he’d be damned if he let anyone else say shit about them. 
They were fucking happy.
Nevermind the fact that Kirishima and Kaminari were blushing ten different shades of crimson, Jirou was hiding in the corner with Shoji and Yaoyorozu’s aid as she tried to dodge all the questions you flung her way the second that Ashido exposed all the ships that sailed while you and Ojiro were having a heartfelt conversation.
“Spill it!!!” You exclaimed, shaking her shoulders furiously as though that was going to get her to answer you faster. “You have to tell me what happened!!! Kaminari gave you the chocolates already?! I missed it!!!!”
“Ack, calm down!!” Jirou shouted at you, blushing violently. “It’s not that big of a deal!!”
“NOT THAT BIG OF A DEAL?!?!?!” You yelled, your tail twice its size as you bounded in circles around her. “HE NEVER LIFTS A FINGER FOR ANYONE ELSE!!!”
“Hey!!” Kaminari pouted, insulted.
You grinned, planting your hands firmly on your hips. “It’s true.”
“H E Y.” He enunciated as he frowned, clearly put off and he lunged at you playfully.
You spent the rest of the night playing a deadly game of tag with the extremely flustered electric blond, having mercy on Kirishima cause the poor boy looked like he might faint at any moment.
Ojiro only got involved when you jumped over the couch and into his waiting arms to escape from the madman and he laughed when you claimed him as a safety spot. 
Kaminari complained at your immunity, saying you needed it at the beginning for it to be effective but you shook your head stubbornly, looping your arms around a blushing Ojiro’s neck and sticking your tongue out at him childishly.
“Princess…” Ojiro chastised quietly but his low voice wasn’t enough to escape Jirou and Shoji’s enhanced hearing.
“Princess?” Jirou asked curiously. 
The rest of your classmates’ jaws dropped in shock. 
“PRINCESS?!?!?!” They all thundered unanimously. 
Iida instantly shot up to his feet. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing them!!!”
Too late for that.
You giggled. Even if it was, it didn’t matter. You had them all by your side and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 
“So let me get this straight, Ashido asked you out on a date?” You questioned slyly, aware of you pink-haired friend’s crush on him. You just didn’t think she’d act on it so soon.
“More like demanded.” Kirishima corrected dutifully, pink dusting his cheeks.
Ashido loomed over him. “Eh?! I asked!! And you said yes!!”
“Wah!!” Kirishima shouted, waving his hands frantically once he realized he gave off the wrong impression. “That’s not a bad thing, Mina— ack, wait!!”
Their antics dislodged Koko from your hold and you immediately burst into tears.
“Wahhhhh!!!”
The plushie was instantly thrown back at you by a disgruntled Bakugou and your cries ceased.
“Thank you, Boom Boy!!” You cheered.
His forehead creased in irritation and he scowled. “Don’t fucking call me that.”
“Hey,” Ojiro cut in, his eyebrows furrowing. “Come on, don’t swear at her.”
You waved it off, not minding it in the slightest. “It’s okay, that’s just Boom Boy’s love language.”
“Hah?! Like hell it is!!” Bakugou exploded at you and you rolled your eyes.
“See?”
“SAY IT TO MY FACE, DUMBASS!!!”
And when 3 am rolled around, everyone was passed out on the couches and sprawled in different places across the floor. 
Iida was sitting upright on the couch, Yaoyorozu asleep on his shoulder. They looked normal, but they were the only ones. 
Kirishima and Ashido had stayed up late talking, falling asleep against each other until they lost their balance and crashed to the ground, effectively waking them both up. They moved to a spot near the coffee table after that. 
Kaminari’s mouth was hanging open, a dribble of drool obeying gravity from where he was hanging upside down like a monkey, the string of saliva pooling on Tokoyami’s cloak.
He was going to be pissed when he woke up. 
The rest of the girls had bunched together, making a fort at the last minute so that they could all sleep in it. 
Shoji was responsible and brought down blankets for those that wanted them, even throwing a few over some that he felt needed it. 
Cough, Bakugou, cough.
Bakugou had passed out second to last, determined to claim his victory over you but you flicked his nose just as he was knocked out, a cheeky grin stretching from ear to ear.
You won. 
And when Aizawa arrived with Eri and Shinsou in the morning to help the latter move into his new dormitory, he raised an eyebrow at the mess that greeted him as Eri immediately bounded over to where you were, shaking you awake.
It didn’t pass unnoticed how you were tangled with Ojiro, your tail draped lazily over your own hip as his sturdy one was wrapped around your waist, tugging you impossibly close. 
Aizawa heaved out a sigh, numbly pointing out where the elevators were so that Shinsou could get started before everyone else started to get up and make breakfast. 
He wasn’t sure he approved of this, you two would face many challenges on your way to becoming pros, not to mention the hardships that would come with making this relationship work once you guys graduated but that all faded away the second he came closer to see you.
Ojiro’s hand was cradling your head carefully, even though he was unconscious, cushioning it in your sleep so that you were comfortable and your own hands had gone lax in fisting his shirt, probably in a sleepy attempt to draw him closer to you. 
The corner of Aizawa’s mouth twitched humorously as Eri tried shaking you awake, only for you to roll further into Ojiro and snuggle into his chest, the said boy pulling you closer the instant you did with a contented sigh.
Oh well… Aizawa thought to himself as Eri drifted back to his side and softly asked if she could go upstairs and help Shinsou unpack. I suppose it could be worse. 
She could’ve fallen for Bakugou instead.
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gamergirlshelby · 3 years ago
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"Can we talk about the BNHA OC Comeback timeline? I've been dying to talk about my theories for the BNHA OC Comeback timeline all day!"
-Me to anyone willing to listen.
Here are the ramblings of me, someone who has no restraint when it comes to coming up with crazy theories about their interests, rambling about their theories on how the BNHA OC Comeback timeline could work.
Note: this is all speculation, and if the people in charge of the AU deem it to not be canon it is not. This was just something I did for fun because I wanted to do some writing. That is why I said could happen and not should happen, because this is all just fun speculation, and none of the other fandoms I am a part of have been able to scratch that itch for me lately.
Also, I will be talking about spoilers for a majority of the anime, but mostly stuff revealed in seasons 3-5, with a little bit of stuff from seasons 1 and 2, since those are the seasons with a lot of the important details that I will be attempting to write work arounds for. I will also be using the Wiki's names for story arcs (a list of which can be found here) when referring to specific plot events.
My ramblings about my theories are under the read more:
Also, to start this off, this speculation was pretty much brought upon by this post from the official BNHA OC Comeback blog, but what is important here is the tags.
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I think the idea of Class 1-A and Class 1-B being third years would be a good starting point for what I want to be diving into.
First point should be a little obvious but in this timeline, Deku still inherits One for All from All Might. This is mainly because if he didn't, if someone where to write or draw an interaction between this version of class 1-A with, lets say class 1-X for this example, Deku would likely not be there, due to not having a quirk, causing the question of "who is the 20th student in class 1-A?" One for All would likely be passed down to someone else (most likely Mirio because Nighteye was going to recommend him to All Might in the first place, and if Deku is not going to inherit it, I doubt there would be anything in the way of Mirio getting One for All)
Second point I want to point out is the battle between All Might and All for One that had happened before the events of the show. I think All Might will still suffer from his injuries from the fight, and continue being the symbol of peace, even if it is killing him. BUT I think it would be best if All for One gets defeated and gets put into hiding, not initiating any of his plans or finding Tomura Shigaraki. Tomura never getting taken in by One for All would also cause the League of Villains to never form (at least not in the way we are familiar with) so we.
Third Point is, although this is speculation, and I do not know where Nomus come from, I do think, even without the league of villains, there would be some sort of lab somewhere where Nomus are being created, likely as one of the last things All for One was able to set into motion before going into hiding in the AU. (I mostly went with this because I think Nomus as a concept are really cool, and I think it would be great to have some sort of generic enemy for the 1-X and 1-Y students to have to face without the need of creating a new organization)
Fourth Point is because All for One is in hiding, so All for One can not force All Might to reveal his "injured form" (I dunno what else to call it), but I do think when All Might and Sato get engaged, he will maybe (and this is a big maybe) reveal it to the public on his own, as more of a "I'm retiring and settling down now" then a "You must keep fighting because I can not" thing, causing crime to not sky rocket, but still rise because there is no more symbol of peace, since there is still the possibility (at least in the publics mind) that All Might could come out of retirement and go back to saving people.
Alright now I begin with some of the actual stuff that actively happened in the show that Class 1-A and Class 1-B had experienced.
Alright so everything at the beginning of the anime is the same, going up until the USJ arc. This is because, as stated previously, there is no League of Villains to attack the USJ. The only thing I can think of that could possibly stay the same is the All Might vs Nomu fight, because I think Nomus as a concept are cool and that was an awesome fight. The only way for the fight to happen though is that the Nomu is let loose somewhere else, like a highly populated area, because it makes no sense for it to be at USJ without the League.
Next is the sports festival, and this would also go the same. But after that is probably the most interesting arc I leave mostly unchanged, being the Hero Killer Arc. This is because, even without a League of Villain's, there would still be people following Stain's ideologies after he is detained, so I think maybe there could be some sort of small unorganized group of people following Stain's beliefs that there are no more "true" heroes. The group of stain followers would likely be the characters that had joined the League of Villains after the Hero Killer Arc (like Dabi, Himiko Toga, and Twice). It is also unchanged in the sense that the students are interning with Pro Heroes, and that Nomus are running around, being a cool concept (can you tell I like Nomus? I just think they are neat.).
Next is the Final exams Arc, which would go unchanged, but the next arc, the Forrest Camp Training arc, would also not have a League attack (because there is no league), and Class 1-A and Class 1-B have a normal experience at the training camp, causing there to be no Hideout Raid arc, because there is no hideout to raid.
Next, the Provisional License Exams are the same results, so no change here, except Camie Utsushimi would be there instead of Toga's impersonation of her, and still ending up to need to take the Remedial Course.
After that is the Shie Hassaikai Arc and then Remedial Course Arc. The Shie Hassaikai Arc would actually largely go unchanged because it is mainly just another internship for the Hero Course students, with the only change to the arc being the League involvement being removed, even though this would leave some plot holes, which I will fill by saying the small unorganized Stain followers would take the place of the league (since Toga and Twice are apart of the Stain followers group, so they would still end up working for them, filling the same rolls they had in the original Arc). Also Overhaul doesn't lose his arms because there would be no reason for him to get them ripped off (because there is no League of Villains). ALSO this means Eri would be canon to the BNHA OC Comeback, which I wanted to mention since from my knowledge she is a fan favorite. After that, the Remedial Course would go unchanged.
I'm also going to say that Mirio will have already gotten his quirk back during the main events of the AU, since Nighteye had predicted that he would get it back before Nighteye had died. How he gets it back will likely go unanswered, since I have not read ahead to the most recent chapter of the manga, only watching the anime, so we should leave the answer to how he got it back to be unclear just in case he gets it back in a spoiler-y way.
Then, lastly as of right now, the rest of the arcs would go unchanged up untill the latest arc where Todoroki, Midoriya, and Bakugo are interning with Endeavor, excluding the parts of the arc going into the Meta Liberation War, which can not properly go through thanks to their being no League of Villains, but especially because there is no Tomura.
Alright now we get to the stuff some of you are here for, being the new info and timeline stuff that occurs during the year Class 1-X and 1-Y are first years. First off, Class 1-A and Class 1-B would now be third years, which was a concept brought up in the original post that cause my brain to go into theory mode.
I would also like to pose the idea of a new "Big Three", replacing Mirio Togata, Tamaki Amajiki, and Nejire Hado (and also the nameless "Big Three" from when 1-A/1-B had been second years in this AU) since 1-A and 1-B are now all third years. This new "Big Three" would be made up of Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, and Izuku Midoriya, seeing as out of Class 1-A and Class 1-B, those three have shown to be the most consistent heavy hitters (and also being the most relevant to the original plot).
Aside from that, Class 1-A and 1-B would not be doing that much in the AU aside from the new "Big Three" occasionally helping out the first year Hero Course students with their studies.
Anyway if you read this far I really appreciate it. I have some more ramblings about stuff in the tags, but its more side stuff that doesn't really effect this AU within another AU.
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epic-potato-crisp · 3 years ago
Text
Courtship - Part 3 (AjinWeek21/1)
Notes: So I decided to continue this for Ajin Week 2021! (although I was torn between making this a Sato fic cause you know. Hat.)
Day 1: Favorite character / summer break/ hat
Favourite character: Both Kei and Kou are among my favourite characters, Kei especially is one of my favourite protagonists of all time, and summer break, because this place during the sweltering time that is training camp. (fun! :D)
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“Really?” Kei asks with growing annoyance as the vampire movie plays out on the screen in front of them. “Really?!”
“I can’t believe you haven’t seen that!” Kou defends himself, depositing the bowl of chips into Kei’s lap so his hands are free to adjust the volume.
“This is not what I had in mind when I agreed to…well, dating you.” Kei says, lowering his volume at the last three words that seem a little too foreign too pronounce.
“Why not?” Kou replies, “Movie nights are a super normal thing to do, not even for a date-“ He in comparison, has zero trouble adequately naming their current situation – “or with friends!” He smirked, which could never mean anything good: “Which you’d know, if you had any-“ Kou winces as Kei’s elbow rams into his side.
“I did have friends.” Kei grumbles through his teeth, stretching out his feet over the old and battered, but still quite comfortable couch. This is, surprisingly, afar more relaxing activity than he had initially anticipated.
Even if the movie is grating on his nerves.
“Why is everyone trying to befriend her?” he asks, exasperatedly. Bella Swan had made it perfectly clear that she was not interested in socializing from the moment she had arrived in her father’s rainy suburban town. And yet, in the first half an hour, not only had her childhood best friend shown up, she’d also been introduced to numerous classmates and faculty, and on top of that, was subtly encouraged to take a glance at a family of – vampire’s, that was his most likely prediction based on what he’d heard of the plot.
“Well, she’s new and people wanna get to know her. Nothing wrong with that.” Kou said diplomatically.
“Ugh.” Kei groans, and takes a sip of his coke. Eriko had always tried to make him watch these movies, which, if he was correct, were five in number, because apparently it was no enough to have a fourth movie. No, it had two be dragged out across two volumes. So far, he had been able to avoid it. Until training camp.
“Which you’d know, if you’d had-“
“Shut the fuck up.” Kei snaps, and the mood sours for a moment.
“Right, right, I’m sorry.” Kou says, after a beat of silence, and then his hand reaches over to grasp Kei’s.
“Is that really necessary?” Kei mutters, feeling his cheeks heat up. He prays that the darkness of the room, only lit up faintly by the TV, serves as enough cover.
“Well, it’s a date, right?”
“Stop saying that all the time.”
“Date. Date. Daaate.” Kou sing-songs, grinning at Kei knowingly.
The latter glowers: “Are you in elementary school?”
Kou laughs. He still doesn’t let go of Kei’s hand.
Kei feels his heartbeat quicken, ever so slightly, nervousness manifesting in the pit of his stomach. He chalks it up to the unfamiliar situation. After all, he really doesn’t know whether the movie will provide suitable entertainment for the next one and a half hours. There is no way it has anything to do with Kou.
At least, it shouldn’t.
“If you could choose between being a vampire and an Ajin, what would you pick?” Kou asks, out of the blue.
The movie had ended just a little while ago, a pointless two hours and six minutes of a supernatural romance that Kei couldn’t care less for. It was a little past ten, and they were not finished for a long while, apparently, if the cover for the second movie, blinking traitorously in Izumi’s streaming library, was anything to go by.
“Not this again.” Kei sighs, “Do you spend all day on these unlikely scenarios?”
“It’s that not unlikely.” Kou argues, “Come on, a few years back, you didn’t even know Ajin existed! And now you’re one!”
“Of course I knew they existed. It’s part of the school curriculum.” Kei deadpans, this particular lesson still rather unsettlingly fresh in his memory.
“Which you’d know if you’d gone to school.” He adds, acidly.
“Wow, harsh.” Kou pouts, “I did go. I just…dropped out. There’s a difference. Everyone knows that.” He mumbles.
“Keep telling yourself that” is on the tip of Kei’s tongue, but he swallows it down, if only to retain the peace. And perhaps because he would feel the tiniest bit guilty further prodding at that sore spot.
But school is something he does not want to think about for a good while again. The memory brings only pain. Betrayal from his classmates, from teachers, a jealousy- one that Kou would never be able to comprehend - on missing out on education that is a given for his former classmates.. A High School degree that he will never receive, if the government has any say in it, after all the years and effort, the hours of studying and revising he has put into it. A bleak future with all paths to prestigious medical universities blocked irreversibly. His only crime had been crossing that road that day. If only I could be reborn, Kei thinks miserably, then I could get a new chance. chance. He is in dire need of a new identity. Perhaps he can later guilt Tosaki into creating one for him.
“So circling back to the topic at hand, vampires.” he says, reluctantly.
“Heck yeah.” Kou agrees, excitedly, “So?”
“There are pros and cons on both sides.” Kei shrugs, “If you were a vampire, you wouldn’t be able to age and have a career, build a reputation. You’d have to get a new identity every few years. That sounds like a hassle. And don’t get me started on the…blood lust.”
The vampires and even humans in the movie had looked hungry in a completely different way whenever that topic came up. As though sucking your body’s circulatory system dry was desirable under any circumstance. Kei shuddered at the thought.
“You mean, you wouldn’t be able to build a family, live out your life with your friends, that kinda stuff?” Kou asks.
“I was referring to the important things, but I suppose.” Kei says loftily.
“Yeah, well, you’re wrong about that. Even vampires enjoy having relationships.” Kou argued.
“Debatable.”
“Bella seems pretty happy with the Edward guy.” his teammate emphasizes, “No matter if he’s a vampire or not.”
“But it is going to be a problem in the future.” Kei argues, “Honestly, she should have just stayed with Jacob and been done with it. It’s a suitable match, why put in any extra effort? She’s just going to grow old while he stays young forever.”
“Figures you’d go with the childhood best friend.” Kou mutters, flicking crumbs of his trousers.
“What?”
But Kou – strangely, for once in his life- doesn’t seem to haven an emergent need to elaborate further on the matter.
Kei probably should have said something a long time ago.
Perhaps he should have stopped Kou from starting the blasted second movie, but “Kei, it’s not that late! And how else will you know how it ends?” (Apparently, never was not a viable option.)
So here they are, sitting through another two hours of what Kou calls an “iconic classic” and Kei under his breath refers to as trash, but not the recyclable kind.
The cinematography is stunning, he has to admit begrudgingly, and the plot, albeit ridiculous, still manages to draw him in enough for him to forego his plans of turning the movie off several times, which is quite bothersome.
Well, fine then, Kei thinks to himself, at least now if Eriko badgers him about those movies again, he can give her a detailed review of every single logical error he has discovered so far.
He is considering starting a list, just so as to have some backup proof. His little sister’s education doesn’t have to suffer any more than it already had.
“Is she really going to sit around for months and wait for him to come back?” Kei complains, grabbing a fist full of popcorn from the bowl Hirasawa had made for them, “That’s a complete waste of time.”
���I don’t know, don’t you think some people are worth waiting for?” Kou threw in, giving Kei a knowing -sort-of-look that he couldn’t place.
It was the first sentence he had spoken in a while. Apart from his rambling monologue to get Izumi to join them a while prior when she came in to check if the streaming service was working.
“Did you see these movies already, Izumi-san?” Kou had asked and Kei surely hadn’t imagined the blush pinkening her cheeks.
“Oh, those? Just��once.” she’d replied, her voice sounding a little too high-pitched for that to be true, “It all seems fine, so I should get going-“
“Ah, already? Take a seat, take a seat!” Kou says generously, gesturing to the couch, “You need a break too, right?”
And Izumi did, albeit only tentatively on the edge. “I’ll be gone in a few minutes.” she promises.
She lied. Fifteen minutes later, she is still there and Kei doesn’t have the heart to kick her out, despite this being a a date, as he not so subtly communicated to Kou via verbal cues – all of which the other successfully ignored -but then, he bitterly thought, what chance did their pseudo-trial stand against Kou’s immortal woman of his dreams?
His thoughts screech to a halt. What does he even care what Kou thinks about either of them? It was all beyond ridiculous.
“It depends on how long you’re waiting for them.” Kei says, in response to Kou’s earlier question, “What about you, Izumi-san?”
“I think some relationships are worth preserving.” Izumi replies meaningfully, but right before she can say anything else, her phone goes off, the Caller-ID flashing with a familiar name.
“It seems Tosaki-san needs my assistance.” she says, barely concealing a wistful sigh, “Have fun you two.”
“He really needs to stop working you to the bone.” Kou complains.
Kei has the decency to feel guilty about the relief that settles in him when she leaves.
The motorcycle ride looks engaging. An activity Kei himself wouldn’t mind doing, seeing as there was zero risk involved to his safety with his newfound Ajin status.
As he verbalizes all of this, Kou gives him yet another of these knowing looks.
“Well, you were always one for motorcycles, weren’t you?” he says, tone bordering on smug.
Kei frowns. “Where did you get that idea from? I’ve only ridden one so far, but that was with Kaito.”
“I know.” Kou says, and then downs the rest of his coke.
“Refill?” he asks, holding out his hand for Kei’s glass.
“Sure.” Kei says, passing it over. He eyes Nakano skeptically, for any hint as to why his demeanor kept fluctuating.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Kei cautiously takes the glass from him. Their fingers brush, lingering just a second too long to be casual. Kei notices how the tips of Kou’s ears redden and uses his momentary distraction to his advantage.
“You really hate that Jacob guy, don’t you?”
Judging by the look on his teammate’s face, he hit the nail on the head.
“I, uh, well hate is a kinda strong word.” Kou hesitates, stumbling over words, “He’s just not my favourite.”
“Really?” Kei asks, raising an eyebrow. In all honesty, he isn’t very interested in either of the characters, but psychoanalyzing Kou is what gives the evening its spice.
“Why is that so surprising?” Kou pouts.
“Because he’s just the same sort of muscle-brained idiot that you are.” Kei responds, gracing Kou with an exasperated look, before turning back to the movie.
“Oh.”
His words seemed to have had a profound effect on his teammate. Whatever sort of enlightenment had reached Kou, it had visibly brightened his mood.
“He is, isn’t he.” Kou says, with a small laugh.
“I don’t know why that is so surprising.”
“Guess I never thought of it that way.”
Which was exactly why it fit so well, Kei thinks to himself. Kou looks positively thrilled with the new discovery. As much as it pains to admit him, a lot remains about his teammate that he still doesn’t understand.
“I think he might be becoming my new favourite character.” Kou says, conspiratorially, sliding closer to Kei and slinging arm around him.
As the movie goes on, Kei starts to feel more and more tired. The comfortable atmosphere and the constant stream of voices from the TV serve to lull him a sleepy state. “Wake me up when they reach Italy.” he mumbles, the exhaustion of another day spent training finally catching up with him.
Kou mumbles an affirmative, and that’s where Kei’s memory cuts off.
The next thing he knows, someone is prodding at him from the side, instructing him to wake up.
“Fine, five more minutes.” Kei says, swatting the offending hand away.
He blinks as he comes too, shielding his eyes against the sudden brightness of the room.
The movie has ended, but even if hadn’t, Kei wouldn’t have been able to see much of the screen.
Not with Tosaki blocking their view.
“It’s almost 1 am.” he informs them through clenched teeth, “Get upstairs before I sever the internet connection.”
It’s a substantial threat. Substantial enough to briefly distract Kei from the fact that he had fallen asleep right on top of Kou.
“Fuck.” Kei swears under his breath, sitting up straight.
His teammate seems less perturbed.
“You missed the ending.” is all Kou has to say for himself, with a shit-eating grin.
(“It really is pointless.” Kei whispers, later that night, as they are both lying in Kou’s bed, a hair-brained decision that Kei blames his tiredness for.
“The whole being with a vampire. She can’t be, unless someone turns her into one, but that would be the epitome of a ridiculous clishé".
“…”
“Oh God, please tell me I’m wrong.”)
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