#i’d argue that they perfectly understood one another as children

[stompandhollar]

something something, the symbolism of how Stan and Ford were only able to see eye to eye when they were wearing one another’s clothes.

something about Ford in Stanley’s clothes, staring at his mirror image in his, and finally seeing Stan for who he has always been— a hero. who saved his family with his bare hands simply because of how much he loved them. a hero who has been protecting that family since he was a child and hasn’t ever stopped. Something about it finally clicking to Ford in that moment.

[burnedbyshoto]

i wonder

i wonder (if you remember the way we looked at each other)

— Living as roommates with your best friend is easy until someone fucks up and catches feelings.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut fem!reader, and they were roommates, childhood friends!au, university!au, quirkless!au, modern!au, americanized university experience, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, the plot is for the sex AHA, womanizer!shouto, shouto and reader are bad roommates but seiji is worse, shouto has sex at 16 for the first time, vouyerism-ish, iffy shouto tendencies, jealous!shouto, jealous!reader, drunk sex so dubcon depending on you, nipplegasms, reader has nipple piercings, blowjob, switching, marking, biting, scratching, praise kink, missing tag ;)

word count: 20,141

a/n: this is for the roommates bnharem collab! please check out all the other amazing fics and art! note to self, dont get drunk the night before this is due and I hope you guys enjoy this!!! I had a lot of fun writing it!!! also,,, sorry if mobile doesn’t correctly format!

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You cracked your eyes open.

The gentle white stream of light permeated through soft cotton curtains, lighting the room in pale stripes and careful touches. Dust particles danced within the shining light, bending and twirling with the flowing air and moving winds. You breathed in deeply, your body still tired, your head still foggy from a night of distractions and too many drinks. 

Your eyes are closed once again, your still hazy mind trying to ignore the bitter, rank taste of the alcohol and cum on your tongue and your hands scratching as your naked cleavage. There was still enough time in the day; it was Sunday after—

Wait.

CUM?!

Your eyes flew open, your lips smacking each other as you confirm the awful, salty taste of cum on your tongue. Your hands swiping up and down your front to confirm your state of undress. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, your palms immediately sweating as you try to think about just who the fuck you ended up back in bed with.

Think, y/n, think!

A small grunt came from behind you, and you felt your entire body go rigid immediately. The soft expel of air fanning against your sticky neck is both welcomed and untrusted. With what can only be described as you, as stiff as a stick, peering behind your shoulder similar to a mother who definitely heard her child throw up on her bed but is somehow praying that she was hearing shit, you turned around.

A messy bedhead of red and white greeted you: unfocused, sleepy grey, and brilliant blue eyes staring back at you with fond familiarity and welcome.

“‘Morning, y/n,” Todoroki Shouto grumbles, voice husky, scratchy, deeply warm from his slumber. His next words are damning, though, the slight pride and knowing implications in the small breathe he uttered next. “Had fun last night?”

There was silence, a stroke of hesitancy, then crushing all-consuming fear.

You screamed.

At the top of your lungs.

O N E  W E E K  A N D  A  D A Y  E A R L I E R

“Who the fuck touched my fucking Angry Orchard Rosés?!” a voice snapped from the kitchen; the tone was fed up, seconds from blasting to smithereens.

You were in the living room, a pair of sweats on, your hair not put together, your face still bare. The music you played as part of your pregame ritual was practically vibrating the wooden floor as you sang along to your music. The telling glass bottle of deliciously pink alcohol swinging inconspicuously between your fingers as you drank it between verses. Despite your other roommate (who you repeatedly told your friends to be ‘like Bakugou but a gazillion times worse because you don’t and can’t like him,���) being seconds from trying to start another feud or possibly a lawsuit against you, your mouth dropped in mock shock before guzzling down the rest of the drink.

“I saw that you fucking skank!” Shishikura Seiji screeched from the kitchen; his stomps were long and heavy as he made his way from the kitchen to the living room where you were. “There were two bottles left in there! Don’t tell me your alcoholic ass drank them both! So help me, I’ll press on your damn chest until you’re puking out my drink.”

“Shishikura, stop,” Shouto spoke up, his own arm raising as he took a long, slow drink from the other missing rosé bottle. “These are 2% alcohol, you’ve had them in the fridge for months now, and you never drink them anyways.”

You grinned as you pulled the glass bottle from your lip, your face failing at the fake look of surprise, guilt, and sorrow for your unwanted and unneeded roommate.

“Sorry, they’re such girly drinks. I figured I’d take them off your hands,” you speak with distractingly bright amusement. “Alcoholics like me, we don’t care. Watch out; I might go for your mouth wash if you’re not too careful.”

“You do that, and I’ll poison you like a damn bitch,” Shishikura threatened, his voice in a menacing growl.

“Ooooo, you want me to bark for you, Shishikura? Want me on my hands and knees?” you taunt back, walking backward until you’re collapsing onto the couch besides Shouto. Your arm quickly sneaks between his, and you lay your head on his shoulder. Shishikura’s face is flushed red, his pupils beady as he trembles with concealed rage.

“She’s quite good at it,” Shouto chimes in, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk as he takes another drink of the weak liquor. He shifts on the couch, allowing you to curl more comfortably at his side; the both of you know just how much your incredibly prude roommate hates any sort of PDA. “Want to hear her bark? She’s also quite good with her tongue.”

As if to emphasize Shouto’s point, you stuck out your tongue, refusing to break eye contact with Shishikura as the tip of your tongue breached the opening of the bottle.

“The actual fuck is wrong with the both of you?!” Shishikura spluttered, his face somehow turning purple and green and red. A truly incredible sight to be had. “‘Childhood friends are great roommates to have’ my fucking ass, you both are monstrosities!”

Shishikura stormed out of the living room, his ears neon red as his purple hair fell to cover his face. As soon as he was out of sight, you turned to Shouto, your tongue removing itself from the bottle and back into your mouth as you began to laugh loudly.

Childhood friends to roommates, ah, what a remarkable story you had with Todoroki Shouto.

It was accurate to relay that you had known Shouto for more than seventeen years now at your current age of twenty-one. Seventeen years of being what is easily seen as the best of friends, the closest companions, and indeed a bond that would withstand time and situation. 

The two of you met during the first week of what was preschool. Although both of you could not remember a single instance of events during this time, your mothers had always been excited to relay this story to you for many years that you could remember. It was odd to try to remember it, but even as they painted a picture of your first interaction, you could do nothing but admit that it sounded exactly like how it could have gone. 

You couldn’t remember being four years old; you don’t recall what it was like to strain your neck to look up at your parents or how it felt to be so utterly dependent but to scream brazenly about your childish independence. Your mother smiles when she retells the story of your first interaction, of how you were holding her hand as she walked you to the building where your preschool was to be had. 

Your hand was so small in hers. Tightly clutching onto her fingers as you looked around at the other children who were also arriving or had already arrived. Some children were bawling by their parents, others aimlessly playing with toys, and some were attempting to talk to one another, but by the apparent looks of curiosity surrounding the babbling and rambling tangents that could only be understood by a firing toddler brain, everyone was getting along. 

A teacher greeted you kindly, squatting down to reach your eye level as they excitedly introduced themselves and asked for your name. You, of course, with your hands clutching the skirts of your mother’s dress, responded with hesitant confidence.

“You’re such a brave girl!” the teacher awed happily, stretching out a hand for you. “Is it okay if I take you from your mom and show you which cubby is yours?”

There was a moment of confusion, then clear understanding hovering over your little head. Your mom looked down with an encouraging smile and pushed you forward.

“Do I get a middle cubby? I don’t want a top one,” you admit, your hand stretching out to grab the teacher’s stretched-out hand. 

Your mother watched on happily as you removed your schoolbag and lunchpail and placed them neatly within the somehow middle cubby marked with your name. The teacher also helped you put on your white school slippers before gesturing towards the bright, colorful room, their mouth moving as if explaining every little detail before pointing at the corner. Your mother tilted her head, curious as she followed the teachers point to the corner of the room where a boy with exceptional red and white hair — split perfectly in the middle — sat quietly, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

(Shouto, although he can not remember this day himself, will argue with you and only you that he was, in fact, NOT crying.)

Trying to not allow the shock of the unnatural hair color affect her, your mother watched as you nodded to your new teacher and walked over with clenched fist confidence to the small boy.

She watched as you approached him, your jaw moving as you so obviously spoke, hopefully introducing yourself. The boy looked up at you with bright, wet eyes but seemed to speak right back to you. 

“Alright, parents! Thank you all for dropping off your children! Do not worry. We will take great care of them all, and they are in competent hands! First days are hard for everyone, so if you can exit quietly, I, and the rest of us teachers, would appreciate that greatly!”

Or at least that’s what Rei claimed the teacher said.  However, your mother was watching on with increasing exponential horror as she watched you throw a punch at the air before twisting around and pointing right at her and saying with a voice that was much too loud.

“Punch whoever made you cry, Shouto-chan! My mama says that it is okay to punch bullies!”

Thankfully no one but your mother heard you, and even though she scolded you on the way out, whisper yelling that you “better not punch anyone!” her relief was for naught.

When she would return in the afternoon, a bit late because there had been a hold up on the train, you were pouting sitting on the floor with a scuffled uniform, your arms crossed definitely. Next to you was the boy with red and white hair, equally scuffed next to a white-haired woman and an older white-haired boy.

“Oh my god, what happened?!” she shrieked, racing over to you.

“Y/l/n-san,” the teacher spoke with a tone that indicated disappointment with the subtle undertone of amusement. “Y/n-chan has something to tell you.”

Your mother had taught you many things, she will admit, in your very short life. But sass and annoyment was something not often seen in your household or in you, and to see it so blatantly on your chubby-cheeked face was quickly giving your mother greys.

“Shouto-chan told me that his stupid bully brother Touya was being a meanie, and so I helped him punch him back!” you said with tears in your eyes because you didn’t want to back down from your actions, but you also did not like being scolded. “I don’t regret it!”

“Y/n!”

“Y/n-chan!”

“I don’t either,” Shouto-chan grumbled as your mother collapsed to her knees and began to profusely apologize for you to the woman who was undoubtedly Shouto’s mother. “Touya-nii was making fun of my hair again… y/n-chan helped me, though. Please don’t scold her!”

To say the most in the shortest amount of time, you were, in fact, scolded despite Shouto’s begging. Touya stopped making fun of Shouto’s natural hair. Rei accepted your mother’s apology. The teachers were given two bottles of sake.

And, of course, the most important, the most paramount thing to arise from this first day of school was that your and Todoroki Shouto’s friendship was now bound by blood, sweat, and tears.

Preschool became elementary school, which became middle school, and fading into highschool.

It was without saying that your relationship, your friendship with Todoroki Shouto, was probably one of the biggest, most defining parts of your entire life. He was there when your first tooth fell out, when he dropped ice cubes down people’s shirts, you two had bathed together when you were young, had sleepovers well past the age where him being a boy and you being a girl should have made things weird. You laughed when his voice cracked and dropped, he elbowed your chest plenty when you began growing boobs, you taunted his lack of body hair, he bought you your favorite ice cream and heating packs on your first period. You attended cram school together, went to the park and beaches on days off from school. You were partners in every school activity except under specific circumstances. He had listened to you when you told him excitedly about your first kiss when you turned fourteen, and you laughed when he said at the age of fifteen that he had still yet to kiss anyone.

Everyone always claimed, always asked, wondered, and whispered if the two of you were dating. Childhood friends still this close and not dating? Unheard of; practically illegal! Nevertheless, you ignored the disappointed frowns or the hopeful grins as you and Shouto both denied any sort of romantic connection.

Soon the both of you were in high school, and Shouto was mere days from turning sixteen. Much like when the both of you were when you were four years old, you seemed to be the one spouting many words — sometimes unnecessary words that wound you both up in trouble — of wisdom. You were loud when you needed, talking most of the time only to him and your surprisingly large group of friends. (You weren’t that surprised. Everyone wanted to be friends with the handsome, could easily be royalty or a model, Todoroki Shouto.) Shouto remained, for better or worse, quiet, reserved, and a bit awkward. He was a sweet boy, don’t get it wrong, and you would protect him until the end of your days, but the boy was a complete airhead and relied on you for interpreting social interactions.

“Camie-senpai wants me to go over to her house after my birthday,” Shouto explains, his hands exchanging his school shoes for his outdoor ones. “Something about wanting to do that one second-year first-year student project thing for the third years right away.”

“You have Camie?” you ask, slumping against the metal lockers with a slight thud. “Lucky, she’s so nice… I have stupid Agoyamato. Have you had a conversation with him? It’s actually the worst! He thinks he’s all that!”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay; you’re nice enough that he won’t be like… that,” Shouto smiles, slinging his bag on his shoulders before nudging his head towards the exit. “Ready?”

“Am I ever ready?” you ask with a whine but nevertheless proceed onward.

Time passed, and between cram school, actual school, some clubs, eventually January 11th passed and you held an ice cream cake that Shouto loved. You ate the cake together, relaxing as you sat in the warmth of his kitchen.

“Happy birthday, Shoucchan, never change!” you chirp, shoving his arm that rose to place the piece of cake in his mouth with your shoulder and watched as the sweet pastry splattered on top of the table. “...um?”

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”

“Only ten?! What about the happy birthday boy.”

“Oh, true. Three seconds to run.”

“Why?!”

“It’s my birthday.”

An hour later, when your stomach hurt from laughing too much and the sickly sweet weight of too much ice cream cake, you lay snuggled into Shouto’s side as the both of you watched some old movie.

“Thanks for always being here for me,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy as the heat of Shouto’s body began to lull you to sleep.

“I’m always here for you,” Shouto softly responded, hand gliding up and down the curve of your spine. “We should get you home. Your mom yelled and nearly skinned us both the last time you fell asleep here.”

“Only cuz she’s scared that we’ll have some sudden revelation we like each other and fuck each other’s brains out,” you groaned, absolutely not content with having to move. With your face buried in your hands now, you missed the weird pattern in Shouto’s chest over that.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“...fine, just because it’s your birthday.”

The next day, when Shouto followed Camie home instead of you, there was something that made you feel off as you waved at them goodbye. It wasn’t jealousy, that much you knew, but something worse when you watched the way your never-been-kissed-before best friend was ignorant to the dark eyes Camie sent his way.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure if you should be as surprised as you are when you get a phone call at ten p.m. to the sound of a confused, suppressed, overwhelmed voice of your best friend asking if you could confirm if Camie had fucked him. You then stayed on the phone for Shouto until well past two a.m., your heart hurting as he recounted the memory over and over again. You weren’t sure as to why your heart was breaking. By the sounds of it, Shouto had actually enjoyed it, but with every stammer to his voice, you felt lightyears away.

Most shockingly, however, was the effects this had on Shouto and his overall persona.

From ages four until fifteen, Todoroki Shouto was someone who was quiet, observant, took things a bit too literally, at all times was entirely precious in the way he interacted with people, and most importantly, unaware of the female population who lusted after him. It worked well for you because it was fun to tease him about things, nag him about how he was sixteen, and hadn’t been kissed even though if he asked any girl at school to kiss him, they definitely would. 

But sixteen-year-old Todoroki Shouto was a new shift, a new paradigm for you to learn. It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident before, but now he emitted a sense of confidence that he was aware of, that everyone was aware of. He became mature, sophisticated, styled even. He was still at times quiet, always completely observant. He rarely took things literally and understood rhetoric and sarcasm and hyperboles. Long gone were the days of preciousness, and instead, there was a sense of a predator on the hunt that bled in the way that he talked to people. Most importantly, however, he was fully aware of the female population and precisely who was lusting after him.

He flirted with women and girls. You would find him leaning against the lockers talking with them, somehow trapping them despite not actually trapping them. A new girl was sitting at your table with him practically every week in high school, each girl asking for the hundredth millionth time that the both of you were not dating. Some girls were even bold enough to apologize to you for stealing your best friend — as if you wanted Shouto.

You had already seen his dick, thank you very much (although the last time you saw it was well before you were nine years old), you weren’t missing out on how it probably looked now! Honestly, you had no idea how Shouto never managed to run out of female students to fuck, the school wasn’t that large, and he seemed to go through a few a week sometimes.

But he was your best friend, your childhood friend, and no matter how many girls came crawling back to your lunch table, bawling to Shouto to take him back, soaking the fabric of your skirt to help convince him to take her back, you stayed. You stayed, accepting the fact that your best friend had become an awkward teenage boy and turned into some high school sex freak.

You stayed when his shaggy hairstyle was clipped and became short.

Overnight, just as he went from being a complete virgin to not one, he went from a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy to a leanly built eighteen-year-old hot-ass heartthrob womanizer.

High school wasn’t forever. Even though it took you about a year to accept and integrate Shouto’s new sex life and behavior into your daily lifestyle with him (he always left four of the three days open for you as all his relationships were casual only). Soon enough, the both of you relaxed and found your own relationship to be entirely the same, and when university exams and applications came about, it was decided that yet again, the both of you would follow each other anywhere.

Which is where you were now.

Tokyo University,  a third-year student, living in an upscale three-person apartment with your best friend, of course. Shouto plus someone who practically begged in the most unbegging way to live with you.

Todoroki Shouto and Shishikura Seiji in the same apartment as you made for an interesting combination.

You hadn’t wanted Shishikura Seiji as a roommate at all. Period. 

There were about eleven other people you only considered asking, but they all said no for their own reasons. Bakugou and Midoriya had found their own apartment closer to the University, and for much cheaper, Kirishima and Mina were RA’s and could not move in. Kaminari said he liked Sero’s couch too much to leave, and Sero couldn’t live in an apartment without a balcony. Momo said the room was too small, Jirou said she’d rather continue living with Momo, Uraraka said it was a tad bit too much for her to afford (to be fair, you didn’t have to pay because the Todoroki’s were paying for your housing, but you understood), Tsuyu and Hagakure said they were living at home. Iida said he would be too uncomfortable living with a couple.

Everyone you found on the street wouldn’t accept your offer. Hence, Shouto invited the meatball and rosé obsessed Shishikura Seiji to live with the two of you simply because he was Shouto’s lab partner in one of his advanced physics classes. Stupid chemical engineering nerd.

At twenty-one years, you can now say that you’ve entirely adjusted to Shouto’s womanizer ways. Too often do you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of tea in your hand as you drink it in slowly, watching with much amusement as either a no-name girl leaves or a walk of shame Shouto enters. It happens at most five times a week; you were used to it. While the unease had finally left, you had to admit you were impressed your best friend could easily sleep around as he did and maintain his outstanding grades.

However, just because you were finally used to Shouto’s womanizer tendencies didn’t mean the world was. Even in University, your fellow students would ask with wide eyes and behind flat palms if the two of you were dating — specifically if Shouto was cheating on you or if it was an open relationship. You would each and every time, smile cheekily, shake your head and say with a roll of your eyes: “No, we’re not dating. He’s not cheating, and no, this is nothing more than us being best friends. Sho is too much of a jealous person to allow for an open relationship.”

Somehow, the constant begging of approval and the erasure of any romantic connection between you and Shouto from the plethora of female students at Tokyo University wasn’t even the most annoying part of it all. No, not at all.

What really ground your nerves was a pattern you noticed when you were eighteen.

Unlike Shouto, you hadn’t had the chance to lose your virginity until you were eighteen. Most of the boys who liked you always assumed you and Shouto were dating, the ones who gathered the courage to ask you out anyways were boys you were less than impressed with. By some act of some higher god, your crush — the school's third-year baseball team's captain when you were a first-year — reappeared in your life and asked you out. It wasn’t your best decision, you can fully admit it, but he was friendly and sweet as he fucked you in his small bed.

You hadn’t expected sex to be like that, and if you had enjoyed this, you couldn’t help but wonder just how Shouto was in bed to have girls behaving like that.

However, the spell was broken when he helped you change back into your clothes, and he begged you not to tell Shouto he was the person you cheated on him with.

It was on this day that it clicked.

What went for him, unfortunately, went for you too.

Except where girls rose to the challenge to dethrone you from Shouto’s side (a shame because they were vying for a seat that you had no claim over), the boys lowered their head like some damn omega to Shouto’s alpha.

Disgusting.

Even with the plentiful, plethora, consistent denial of your relationship with Shouto, even with the tally of girls, Shouto’s bedded (and more excitedly, deflowered — ugh!) rose consistently, no one ever really believed you weren’t dating him! Too many a time, you had been centimeters from making out with a guy for them to pull away, screeching that they couldn’t allow you to betray Shouto. The men who didn’t care were sleezebags, and thus, with a growl and a snarl, you found that you were only able to fuck men who thought jackhammering their fingers into your labia — yes, your labia — would make you cum.

You didn’t want to say you hated your childhood best friend for such duplicitous, selfish reasons… but you did.

But today was Saturday, a few months into the new second semester of the school year, and with school spirit once again high and workload low. The entire campus was brimming with parties, celebrations, alcohol drinking competition, sleazy dancing, and enough sexual tension to kill all celibate people.

So, we look back to where we started.

Shishikura Seiji running away as you nestled back against Shouto’s chest.

“I didn’t think he was actually going to drink these things,” Shouto sighed, spinning the last few remaining drinks of his rosé in his hand. “It’s been in the fridge for almost five months.”

“He probably made his meatballs again and needed something terrible to blame the flavor on,” you half joke half say in complete seriousness. You were not fond of Shishikura at all, and he was not fond of you either. He had a tendency to mansplain everything, which continuously ground on your nerves, especially when he had no jurisdiction to act so confidently.

He was a physics major, not a goddamn god.

Fuck off.

“I feel sorta bad,” Shouto sighs, his hand low and warm on your waist. “But I will admit, these drinks are practically like carbonated water.”

“2% alcohol,” you stress, your grin widening as you pull away from his chest to stare at him. Your gaze is bright, and his eyes are filled with amusement. “You’re either the world's lightest lightweight or a child with no tolerance to actually expect to get drunk off this shit.”

“I think you’re slurring your words already though, you sure you’re okay, lightweight?” Shouto teases, his soft smirk teasing.

“Who was the one who took three shots and passed out?” you wonder innocently, finger to your chin as if you were trying to remember.

“At least I don’t throw up when I crossfade.”

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT. MY BIOLOGY JUST HAPPENS TO WORKS THAT WAY!”

“Alright, bitch,” Shouto snorts, completely unattractively, “hurry up and get ready, yeah? We have a party we’re already late to, and we have no drinks for an actual pregame.”

You squeal excitedly, having forgotten the massive party that was being held a few blocks away. “I’ll be ready in ten!”

Typically, when you went out partying, you went with the group of eleven people you would have rather replaced Shishikura as a roommate. To get ready for said parties, you would always find yourself at Momo’s place with an outfit change, makeup bag, and hair styling items. You had made it a tradition with the other girls to get ready together. The only exceptions to which this wouldn’t happen was when someone had a work event or some family thing come up.

In your case, you had been stuck at a professor's office, diligently helping to put together their research journal as they were in their final steps of publishing their findings. Due to your friendly relationship with your professor, the time had been lost, and your ten p.m. call time to arrive at Momo’s had been missed with a quick:

↳ held up at work! go on without me, sorry! see you at the party!!!!

When you crashed through the front door of your apartment, you froze, seeing Shouto in the hallway by the mirror. Sometime between getting his haircut to be shorter and from this day, he had begun to style his hair by threading it back by his fingers, and boy, it looked fucking good. He was already dressed up for the party. Black joggers, a white t-shirt that was a bit too small if the tight, seductive way it clung to his muscles spoke of anything, and a hoodie he had no care about in case he lost it after taking it off once getting there. Shouto was practically immune to all weather types, he could be in both snow or fire without a single worry, but he knew that a large sweatshirt that smelled like him was enough to hook and line any truly desperate female.

Shouto had chuckled, taking in your frazzled state with years of practice and nudged toward the fridge, already knowing that you had missed your pregaming with the girls.

“Shishikura has two rosés left. Grab ‘em, and we can pregame together.”

But that was all unimportant and already said.

In the end, it took you thirty minutes to get ready.

You had practically smeared on your makeup, hoping the warm, crazy miscoloring would be hidden within the crazy light show the party would definitely be displaying. Your outfit consisted of a tank top that exposed your cleavage and a skirt that hugged your legs and ass just right.

You came stumbling out of your room, fingers trying to shove on your earrings, the rings on your fingers clicking loudly against each other. You smiled breathily, gratefully accepting Shouto’s sweater as you slipped on your comfortable heels at the doorway before hurrying out.

Shouto kept an arm around your shoulder the entire way out, the immense heat of his body keeping you warm as his sweater rested lazily, awkwardly, around your shoulders and arms. You didn’t want to put it entirely on to save your makeup, and in case anyone had any fucking thing to say about the show you and Shouto were putting on. Eventually, the bright and comical conversation between you and Shouto began to grow louder as the pounding of dance music began to ring in your ears. Soon enough, you passed a few drunk people, more and more, until you reached the house where the party was.

Shoving the sweatshirt into Shouto’s chest, you grinned as the smell of alcohol, weed, over-cologne men and women, the faint smell of puke, and the gross crawl of BO flooded your nose.

Ah yes, nothing like a university party.

Shouto laughs at your evident piqued excitement, and after he pulls on the light blue sweatshirt, he grabs your hand, and into the overcrowded home you go.

The intense heat of overcrowded bodies on a dance floor that also makes up a drinking game floor makes you grateful for your choice of clothes. Everyone around you is already drunk, sloshed, intoxicated off their ass as unknown drinks spill from their red Solo cups, sometimes even raining down on you. You grimace as Shouto continues to pull you through. You can taste the Hennesy on your upper lip and somehow know that whoever was drinking it was a freshman with a vendetta to kill his liver and love for drinking before coming of legal age.

“What do you want to drink?” Shouto yells over the nearly obnoxiously loud music. He has his sight on the drinks counter. “Mixed or the juice?”

“Fuck me up with the jungle juice!” you yell right back, pressing to his side as two dancing (see, vigorously dry-humping) nearly trample on top of you. “Parties are meant to be a non-sober event. I need to be borderline blacked out five hours ago!”

The agreeing chuckle from Shouto isn’t heard by you at all, but you can feel his chest give a familiar vibration as finally, he pulls you from the sea of bodies to where the floor is especially wet and sticky. You’ve reached the bar area.

Grabbing your own red Solo Cup, you watch as Shouto makes his own drink. Heavy on the alcohol, light on the mixer, and a good handful of ice (he’s always liked the cold better). His hand reaches for your cup and you offer your cup up as he opens up an ice chest filled with neon-colored jungle juice.

When the drink is returned to you, the both of you cheers and take a long drink.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N-CHAN!”

“You’re finally here, you fucking slut! Getcha fat ass over here now!”

Your neck is twisted to see the absolutely plastered group of girls you considered to be your closest friends, and you laugh loudly.

“Seems like I’m needed,” you yell at Shouto, trying your best to act nonchalantly as he smiles knowingly at you. “Text me about what you decide to do if we don’t see each other?”

“Of course,” he simply responds before placing the curve of his cup back onto his lip as hands grabbed your arms and whisked you away.

In a matter of sixty minutes, you all had played five drinking games.

The girls felt it was imperative to get you to their level right away, so they started off with a game of King’s Cup. Not only was the deck rigged against you — you pulled all four of the four cards and thus had to chug four times — but you had drawn the last King and drank some weird concoction of jungle juice, a tequila shot, a vodka shot, and whatever the fucking hell Mina was drinking. How you managed to chug that and stay on your feet was beyond you, but it was without saying that you had utterly and inevitably caught up with the girls.

After the King's Cup came the Flip Cup game, your team won thankfully due to Mina’s one flip wonder as Kaminari struggled to down the shot in the cup.

After Flip Cup came Smoke or Fire, a game that had Tsuyu stuck on the bus for a record-breaking one round. No one could believe she did that.

Then came a round of Shot Roulette to end with what you were currently doing now, using a drinking card game Momo had made in her spare time to do embarrassing things at random.

Five games in an hour… you questioned if there was by any chance illegal substances in the jungle juice because it had felt like a whopping two minutes.

“It’s midnight!” Hagakure hollered, stumbling backward as she grinned in drunken, stupid happiness. She giggled before singing, “Midnight… memoriessss~!”

Mina groaned at the reference but completely perked up as the dance music changed suddenly from its slightly mellow, good vibe song to none other than Everytime We Touch by Cascada. By tradition, by applicable law by all and every god, when this one song played, everyone needed to stop what they were doing and immediately head to the dance floor.

With your hand slightly sticky with alcohol, and your mind absolutely clouded with alcohol, you whooped loudly as Mina dragged you to the dancefloor. 

You, seven girls, formed a closed circle, your Solo cups sloshing over with alcohol, and your faces scrunched tight as you danced and sang as loudly as you could. Each pounding beat of music vibrated in your chest, each offkey note sung by the party-goers making you feel light, happy, dizzy, and oh so perfectly drunk. For just a split moment, you lock eyes with Shouto, who’s across the dance floor, his arms wrapped around some girl you don’t recognize, eyes drinking you in. You smile for a bit before turning back around, arms rocketing up to the air with your excitement.

Although the song ended, the DJ continued to play bangers, and you never once stopped in your mirthful dancing and grinding against your friends as the night continued to carry on. But when you spun out from Mina, your entire world spinning with it, a pair of warm, heavy, large hands rested on your waist, and you laughed.

“Who is this?” you ask, head slamming backward to try and look at the person who had caught you yet hadn’t tried grinding against you. “Oh, Inasa? Hi!”

Yoarashi Inasa was one of your University's well-known jocks. He was a skilled runner, one of the best Japan has ever seen despite his body type telling you he was a bodybuilder. Immediately your smile of idiotic stupor became intentful, seductive, still bordering extreme intoxication. Was Inasa your type? No, not really, but you could reasonably and accurately say that he was a handsome man, with a fantastic body, not to mention a pleasant personality.

You also itched to know what his dick looked like.

This was definitely someone you could see yourself fucking tonight.

“Hi, y/l/n,” Inasa said, his naturally loud voice easily picked up on despite the music being blasted in your ear. “How’s your night going?”

You lick your dry lips, eyes blinking a few times before you turn in his arms, your arms stretching so that you could wrap them around his neck. “Better now that you’re here,” you smile shyly. “How’s yours.”

“Ahem,” Inasa blushes, his eyes staring straight at your cleavage before looking back up at you. “H-Hoping to get better from here! Well, I’m sure it will be.”

“Oh?” you ask, your confidence building faster and faster as you press further against him. “Anything you have in mind?” —you press your thigh suggestively against the semi-hard spot against his jeans. — “Anyway... I can... help?”

Inasa groans deep in his chest, his head knocking backward at your implications, the pleasant vibrations passing on to you. You grin, fingers scraping against the bottom of his buzzcut and bringing him closer, praying for a kiss. But as he returns his head back down, his gaze leaves yours for a split second, and you watch in horror as a sobering look washes over him.

“Actually… you’re here with some random dude, right? I don’t want to step on his toes. I thought I saw you come in with some guy; sorry y/l/n, I can’t do this.”

And just as quickly as he was against you, he was gone.

It took everything in you not to screech bloody murder over the fact that you were once again left horny with no man to take responsibility for it.

Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party With Shouto: 78% Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party Without Shouto: 22%

Walking home alone, cold, and with extreme bitterness towards Yoarashi Inasa was a sadly sobering experience. By the time you collapsed onto your bed, you were only slightly buzzed, boarding sobriety while not being sober exactly.

Fuck men.

Fuck their cowardness over a nonexistent romantic/sexual relationship between you and Shouto.

But also… you really wanted to fuck men right now.

The slicked horniness of the potential thought of bedding Inasa had made its unignorable appearance via your soaked panties. You hated yourself, hated your biological needs and lusts.

“I’ll wring Shouto’s neck in front of all of them next time,” you grumble to yourself. “Stage a fake breakup for an imaginary thing…”

Nestling further into your pillows, your eyes closed, body relaxing against the bed when a peculiar sound seemed to echo in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Your eyes slammed open, your jaw-dropping at the very obvious, entirely embarrassing sound of Shouto having sex on his desk sounded in your room! Of course it sounded in your room. His desk was pressed to your wall because that would mean whenever he was his icky womanizer self, you wouldn’t have to hear anything! Your rooms were soundproof but apparently not movement proof.

The thwack of the wood desk slammed against the wall, and with your ear so close to the wall, you began to hear the shaky, intense breathing of Shouto. The whines, keens, and screams of the girl he was fucking as she begged for more. Sobbing that his cock was too much for her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Your panties soaked even more, and with a brain that somehow retracted back into its state of stupor, your fingers brushed against your swollen, ready clit.

This was wrong, so very, very wrong, you thought, the sounds of pitched whining against the stupidly impressive, steady, consistent fucking.

Your mind was a drunken fever. 

Your eyes closed not all the way, yet blind to the wall before you as your finger danced and teased against your demanding clit.

You whined softly, matching the groaning of Shouto, who banged something other than the desk into the wall.

For a moment, just this once, you wanted to be the one desperately clinging to Shouto’s back, hips snapping and circling in tandem to his, allowing him to drill his cock deep within you. Your back arched, heat reaching your toes, buzzing filling your lips.

“Yes, fuck, right there, Todoroki!” the girl screamed, begged, and prayed. “Oh my god, yes, yes yes, right there, right the— mmph!”

You find your teeth sinking into your fist, trying to keep your pounding, horny induced brain from crying out. You wanted to know what he was doing to her, if he had kissed her silent, shoved his fingers in her mouth. Maybe he had fucked her so good she couldn’t possibly say more.

There is nothing from Shouto you can hear, no noises of praise, nothing except the occasional ragged breath that seems to permeate through the walls and whisper sweetly, teasingly, like a succumbs in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

It increases, in noise, the wall separating your room from his beginning to rattle, shake in his conquest.

Your fingers are wet, entirely slippery with your conquest, your hips thrashing against your touch, clinging to a phantom memory of the last male you had managed to fuck. Then, as your stomach trembles with the orgasm that's mere seconds from blessing you with a release, you hear him—Shouto.

“Fuck.”

It’s not much. If anything, this girl should be so embarrassed she hasn’t been able to elicit a loud response from Shouto, but it’s a verbal gift from heaven above for you. His voice, tight, husky, drenched with a driving lust, whispers to you and only you, wrapping you in this blanket of solitude and need. 

With your back arching from the mattress, your hips leaving the soft surface, and your jaw growing slack, your moan is silent, unheard by no one but the heavens as you cum. Heat floods throughout your entire body, tickling and twirling in you until you can’t do anything but shudder, shaking as you fall back down on your bed, dizzy and completely satisfied. 

You don’t think about it.

Don’t try to unpack just what happened right now because the reality that you had just masturbated to the sound of your childhood best friend fucking some random girl is a bit too much. Even for you.

So you don’t think about it, and soon the thudding of the desk on the wall is nothing but a drumming lullaby, and sleep consumes you.

When you wake up, you don’t remember what you did.

You get up and trudge to the bathroom, your party clothes abandoned completely so that you’re wearing nothing but a large shirt you had stolen from Shouto years ago. You scratch your belly as you walk into the bathroom, eyes caked with your sleep still as you begin brushing your teeth.

As you brush your teeth, you begin to take off last night's makeup — well, whatever remained of it.

Spitting out the last foamy remains of the paste from your mouth, you rinsed your mouth before washing your skin. You looked much more awake now. Slapping your cheeks in an encouraging, ‘im a functional human adult taking part in some random face wash commercial,’ you exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen. 

Shishikura was already in the kitchen, his face expressionless, entirely dead to the world as he scooped some rice into a bowl and topped it off with some eggs.

“Morning,” you yawn, arms stretching over your head as you near closer to your unwanted roommate.

Shishikura sneers at you, but even he was more polite in the morning, sometimes.

“I heard the both of you get back last night,” Shishikura mocked, slamming the lid to his rice cooker with an unimpressed scowl. “You were thirty minutes apart. You know, if you two still want to be partying like a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, do it respectfully.”

Your smile back at him is as fake as he is, and you refuse to move out of the way as he tries to walk back to his room. He growls — gross? — and sidesteps you, grumbling the entire way back to his room as you roll your eyes at his retreating form.

What a child.

You entered the kitchen, fixing up your own things for breakfast.

Kettle brewing hot water for tea, rice cooker on for your own rice (you make enough for Shouto too), and you begin cooking some ham and eggs, readying yourself for a Sunday for going to the library and studying. You hummed to yourself, your phone plugged into the speaker as your music filled the quiet morning air.

You bobbed your head in rhythm with the music, your eyes concentrating on slowly cooking eggs as you poured the hot water from your kettle into the teacup. As you placed your teabag in, you looked up to the sound of a creaking door and grinned wickedly as a girl with light blue hair walked out of the hall you and Shouto’s room were in.

Her dress was rumbled, a few blooming red and purple marks sitting prettily on her collarbone, and her face flushed red as she began to scurry out.

“Bye!” you call out, laughing at the scared eep from the girl and the disgruntled groan from Shouto’s room.

You set down your tea, flipping the eggs in the pan as you heard more shuffling before finally, Shouto made his appearance. He was in nothing but grey sweatpants that sat so low on his waist you could not only see the band of his boxer-briefs, but you were entirely aware of the v-lines, the abs, the pecs, and the small happy trail from his belly button down. You also noted that there was not a single mark on his body, and you wondered if he had ever taken a single mark from a one-night fuck before.

God really cursed you with an objectively attractive best friend, huh.

“Morning, slut,” you sing, noticing with happiness that your rice cooker sang a merry tune, indicating that the rice was done. “Breakfast?”

“Mm,” Shouto grumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he trudged closer to the kitchen, taking a spot on one of the stools. “Depends. Did you make it?”

“...I always make it.”

“I think I like Shishikura’s breakfast better.”

Silence.

You glare at Shouto, and in turn, his lips press to a comfortable, teasing smile.

“Fend for your damn self then.”

Shouto laughed loudly as you began to stubbornly fix yourself a bowl of both your servings. You ate far less than he did, but still enough to fill you until after three pm, so the size of your bowl was hysterical. 

“You’re such a horrible wife-roommate,” Shouto accuses, standing up from the stool and entering the kitchen to try and persuade you otherwise to give him his own food. “And here I thought that you liked cooking for me.”

“Go tell your stupid wife-roommate Shishikura instead,” you cry loudly, the faux sniffles from you stupidly fake as you begin to shovel a mouthful of rice and eggs into your mouth. “I’m shwure you’chll beh happ t’gther!”

“That’s absolutely disgusting, y/l/n,” Shouto accuses, his nose scrunching as he traps you in his arms, mouth trying to intercept the food moving from your bowl and into your mouth. 

With another desire to prove how unsatisfied in your roommate-marriage you were, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue full of uneaten, partially chewed rice.

“Ea’ eh!” you mocked, your grin growing as Shouto’s initial instinct was to whip his head away from you.

But as always, because Shouto enjoyed being incredibly annoying, he went after your tongue, readying to eat the chewed-up food off your very tongue. 

Eventually, you gave Shouto back his part of the breakfast, laughing as the both of you chatted about who was going to repay Shishikura for the used rosés. Neither one of you could decide, and so it was something to be solved later. Noon, however, came and with a nod, you accepted Shouto’s hug goodbye, to which you twisted his nose triumphantly as you waddled out of the front door, clothed in your winter gear, textbooks, and laptop,

It was time to brave the world and get this paper done.

“Mina, I mean… absolutely no offense when I say this, but it still shocks me every time you say you’re a chemistry major. You just seem so…”

“Dumb?”

“Yeah.”

“You gotta be some kind of stupid to willingly take inorganic chem,” Mina laughed, balancing her textbooks on her head as the both of you climbed the stairwell to the library’s study rooms. “That's why I have the dance minor! Best of both worlds!”

“Could never forget about that,” you laughed as the both of you neared the top of the stairwell.

You didn’t mean to notice him. As a matter of fact, most of your failed conquests at parties never amounted to much anger from you, but seeing Inasa from across the way, his face buried in some aerodynamics textbook, anger boiled in you. On the way to meeting with Mina, you had realized your mistake last night and how you wouldn’t have made said mistake if it hadn’t been for Inasa! You could’ve been dicked down, slammed against your bed and wall as the giant of a man fucked you!

“I’ll be right back,” you sneered, eyes narrowing as you passed your textbook to Mina.

With fire following in ever long, powerful stride, you blinked and immediately found yourself before Inasa.

“Hi. Wanna explain what happened last night?”

Inasa reacted as if you had shot him, his knees coming up to hit the table, his body knocking backward, and he tumbled, crashing to the floor as you watched with a gaping mouth.

“Y-Y/L/N!” Inasa shouted, his face going through half a billion emotions before settling in anxiety-filled fear. You watched, horrified yourself, as he swung to his knees, his head crashing to the floor as he began apologizing to you. “GOODMORNING, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!”

“Pipe it down, Inasa!” you hiss, your cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat as you garnered the attention of everyone on the floor. “I’m not going to hurt you! I just wanted to talk!”

“Aha, yes, of course!” Inasa laughs, a full belly laugh. He sits up and you freeze seeing the bloodied cut on his forehead. He stands up, completely unaffected by the gash on his forehead, and uprights his chair before sitting comfortably. “How can I help you?”

“What happened to you last night?” you try again, eyebrow raised, arms crossed definitely and awkwardly because yeah… you were confronting a guy who didn't want to sleep with you. “You were into me and then suddenly wasn’t.”

Inasa laughs more, although nothing you said, implied, or did was even remotely funny.

Irritation runs through your veins.

“Inasa, please,” you sigh in helplessness, your eyes annoyed, pleading, and hopeful that he would be the one to finally give you an actual reason.

“It’s… it’s not you. If that’s what you’re wondering,” Inasa finally sighs. His face turns uncharacteristically solemn as his tongue passes through his lips, his shoulders raising to a shrug. “Typically speaking, you are exactly who and what I want when I endeavor in less than chivalrous but still passionate activities. I wanted you last night, and I will not lie that even as I left, I regretted behaving as I did.”

“Well, you did it, and it sorta really sucked,” you laugh, your mouth taut in a frown as your feelings are genuinely hurt.

You keep being put down, and there’s no reason for it.

Why couldn’t you be as sexually active as you wish you could be?

“...Todoroki has a claim on you,” Inasa spoke slowly, his mouth dipping from a usual smile to a frown. “I know you guys aren’t together, but in a way, you two are.”

“No,” you say with complete certainty, anger burning in your chest, “we’re not.”

“Try telling Todoroki that,” Inasa shrugs, his fingers scratching through his buzz cut. “Listen, I wanted to have intercourse with you last night; I did. I also am aware that Todoroki is a womanizer, but he said you were off-limits for all of us.”

“He said that?” your voice is perfectly calm, not showing the raging fire in you.

“Well, no, he definitely did not,” Inasa sighs, the palm of his hands pressing tightly against his eyes. “He has never said it… but it’s the way he talks about you, how he looks at you. It’s a claim on you, even if it’s not a verbal one, and well, no one wants to defy him.”

Your nostrils flare in your irritation, and you find that you’re stepping into Inasa’s personal space, his eyes going wide as you step between his legs and press your hands on his chest.

“I’ll be going home in about five hours. If you still want to fuck me, wait for me,” you say slowly, trying to make sure he understands. “I don’t care if Sho looks at me the way he does; he is not my boyfriend.”

Inasa gulps, his tan skin sporting a healthy pink flush, “Yes, ma’am.”

Five hours later, you’re walking into your apartment with Inasa behind you, his warm, slightly sweaty hand clasped in yours. You make eye contact with both your roommates, Shishikura, whose eyes are rolling to the depths of his skull, and Shouto, who looks like a wall. You, despite the anger you’re feeling for Shouto, smile prettily, then grin wolfishly as you corral Inasa towards your room. You send your roommates a wink before closing the door with a decisive click.

Much like you assumed the night prior, your drunken hazed, lust-driven, anger-flared thoughts proved to be right. Inasa fucked you against the wall, deep into the mattress, he drilled and fucked you until his dick was wet with your slick, and his leg was trembling with his plentiful unleashed loads. But you weren’t done yet, too many times have you been denied, and even though Inasa was trembling, his voice shaking with desperate pleas to slow down or he would cum too fast, you rode him with powerful, swiveling hips.

Once he left, you felt light again.

Your head light, body glowing as you dressed your bruised, cum slick body in a robe as you trudged to the bathroom. You showered, letting the warm water and sweet-smelling oils drench your body before you eventually exited, your hair in a towel, Shouto’s shirt on your person again.

Waltzing to the living room, you grinned as you collapsed on the couch, every grievance you held when you walked in forgotten at the moment.

“Hello,” you smile, your head falling onto Shouto’s lap who was, at the moment, very interested in his phone. Shishikura was gone, undoubtedly leaving in case he heard something he didn’t want to hear during your little four-hour sexscapade. “I am a leaf flowing through the river right now, if you’re wondering.”

“Don’t need to wonder. You were perfectly loud enough,” Shouto grumbled, his eyes rolling. “Says something that I could, considering the rooms are soundproof.”

“I should hope so! After you, the girls rave that Inasa is the best fuck on campus,” you hum, still on a delirious high as you attempt to reach for your best friend's hand to grasp. But to your shock, Shouto jerks away from your touch, and he stands, letting your head fall roughly on the couch. And just like that, your anger is back. The emotion Inasa had managed to fuck out of you for a bit returned at full force. “Shouto?!”

“What?” he snaps.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“My problem is that you brought someone to fuck at fucking five p.m.,” Shouto explains, his expression like the void, empty, dark, menacing. “We agreed to keep it until past ten.”

Your face screws up as you push up off the couch, “Are you kidding me?! I’ve seen you constantly bring girls to fuck at any and all times of the day! Don’t suddenly bring that shit in when it clearly isn’t an actual rule in this apartment!”

“You were also being obnoxiously loud,” Shouto narrows his eyes at you.

“You are too!”

“When am I ever?”

“I literally listened to you fuck that girl last night against our shared wall!”

“You moved your bed to our shared wall?! When?!”

“Doesn’t matter! I would’ve heard it just fine on the other side!”

“The girl wasn’t even that fucking loud!” 

“You can’t ever remember the names of the girls you fuck! Do you know anything about them ever? Are you even using condoms?!”

“You only ever fuck men with questionable personalities.”

“Gee, I wonder fucking why!”

The two of you were nose to nose, anger flaring and near tangible between the two of you.

“What do you mean?” he grits slowly.

“I’m talking about you mad dogging any male human who so much as looks or thinks of me!” you snap, finger shoving between his pecs. “No one touches me because somehow they respect the way a womanizer looks at me.”

“I’m not looking at you in any special way,” Shouto squints his eyes, completely not having your accusations.

“Even if you don’t, this fucking behavior is pathetic of you!” you say, hands motioning between you two and the room. “I had sex, and you’re acting like some pathetic child! I have been putting up with your sex-craze tendencies since we were sixteen, asshole! Sixteen! If I want to gloat and float about having sex, then I fucking deserve to.”

His nostrils flare, his upper lip curling in a small twitch before he rolls his eyes and walks away.

“That’s right, Todoroki,” you laugh bitterly at his retreating form. “Walk away from a fight because you can never win them.”

It took a bit for the dust to settle, but as soon as it did, you realized in horror that you and Shouto had, for the first time ever, fought.

Being roommates with Shouto was always a fun thing. Having your childhood best friend right at your disposal meant that you could have dinner nights, movie nights, game nights, morning waffles, hikes, and literally anything whenever and wherever you wanted. He was a person to talk to when the days were long, and there was no one else in the world, the person who was there for you through thick and thin. But for two days, he had been locked away in his room, unwilling to look at you, refusing to be anywhere near you.

Your friends had noticed immediately.

The way the both of you hadn’t shown up together, the way you sat at opposite ends of the table, refusing to be trapped in a conversation together. Separate the two of you were, and the world acted as if Earth had dropped out of gravity.

You could care less right now.

You were rightfully mad at him! How dare he act so pettily over you having a sex life when you were expected to blink, turn the other way, and laugh when he would shower after a girl would leave before joining you on the couch to watch a movie. He was in the wrong, not you!

But even if you were unwilling to budge and he was refusing to see things the way they should be, you were now incredibly lonesome. So as you sat with your back on the mattress. Your butt to the wall, and your legs kicking against the wall, you thought of what you could do. With a bitter sigh, you rolled off your bed and scurried out of the apartment. Nothing but your wallet and ID on you so that you could get to the store on the first floor of the complex.

Holding the item in hand, you knocked on a door, your gaze already on the floor, embarrassed that you were going to do what you had to do.

“What?” came the annoyed voice of Shishikura, the door to his room opening as he looked at you unimpressed and very obviously unwelcomed.

“Truce?” you asked, raising the six-pack of Angry Orchard Rosé Cider. 

Shishikura looks at you, at the ciders, then back at you.

“Fine.”

How in the world you’re drunk off of four rosé ciders is beyond you, but you are. You’re in the living room, laughing so hard that your stomach hurts as you’re trying not to snort the liquid from your mouth and out your nose. Shishikura is equally plastered off of one drink, his red a ruby red against his purple hair. He’s leaning against you, his breathing ragged, near asthmatic as he tries to once explain just how Shouto looked like when some girl slapped him across the face yesterday for ghosting her after sex.

“He was so shocked!” Shishikura squeaked out, his voice pitchy and incredibly high as he laughed more and more. “You should have seen it!”

Your feet kicked at the air, your face and lungs burning with a fire you hadn’t felt in so long as your laughter turned silent. You gasped for air, trying to contain yourself but failing hysterically.

“Do you wa’ another meatballsh?” Shishikura suddenly asked, his hands flailing to grab his plate of meat. “I think you want another o’.”

“I wan’ ‘ne!” you cried with a slight slur, tears of joy slipping past your eyes to which you haphazardly scrubbed them off your face. “They’re soooo good! I didn’t think they could be so… be so good!”

You find yourself eating another meatball, drinking it down with the cider and feeling happy again. Shishikura goes still by your side, and you hum in wonder, unfocused eyes trying to find what had caught his attention and falling onto the one man you were mad at currently.

Shouto was standing at the apartment entrance, dressed in ripped black jeans, a tight grey turtleneck sweater, and his backpack slung on his shoulder. It was, without a doubt, a studying-only outfit. You knew and have discussed too many times with Shouto about how he never trusted women to take his turtlenecks off without potentially ruining the fabric.

“Well, someone’s finally home... from a night of beddin mo’ women, huh?” a voice spoke, but you were completely unsure if it was you or Shishikura who said it.

Judging by the way Shouto’s eyes locked on Shishikura and not yours, it seemed it was him who said it.

“No, I was doing something,” Shouto retorted, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack, his eyes shifting between you and Shishikura. “A paper for class.”

“Sure,” you end up speaking up, your voice sounding completely sober. You sit up so that your elbow is resting on Shishikura’s nearest shoulder. You raise the glass bottle to your lips, drinking its content without care, never once breaking eye contact. “What was the paper's name? You going after your TA? Or was it a professor by chance?”

Shouto’s eyebrows furrow, his face completely unimpressed by your comeback, but he remains silent.

“He looks like he’s trying to cosplay that one Young The Rock picture, no way would a dignified professor or TA fuck him!” Shishikura laughed with a loud bark, and all of a sudden, that was all you could see too.

The both of you howled with laughter, laughing and slapping each other as you attempted to drink the last bits of the rosés as Shouto rolled his eyes and walked away.

“This is fun. No wonder why you guys do it to me so often.”

-

As time does, it moves forward.

It seemed as if the entire campus had tuned in to what had transpired between you and Shouto. No one the slightest bit sure as to what happened, but everyone knew something big had happened. There was no more walking together before classes or after classes, no weird Instagram or Snapchat stories of the other, both of you never having to excuse yourself because you had plans with the other. Even though they claimed to not care about other people’s business, the school was suddenly invested in the single speculation that Todoroki Shouto’s and Y/l/n Y/n’s relationship was over.

“Breaking News, it was never a real relationship!” you would scream the first few times you heard it, which only worked to make them whisper louder that you were in further denial.

For the last seventeen years of your life, you had never gone more than two days without talking or seeing your childhood best friend. Those two days happened when Rei had experienced a staggering, hospital-inducing breakdown from stress and had subsequently burned Shouto when you were five years old. The two days were because he spent four days in the hospital. The first two days, he was not allowed visitors as the hospital staff put him under a coma to help his body from entering shock and heal. Of course, the moment he was awakened, you were dragging your mother to his bedside.

That was the only time you hadn’t seen or spoken to Shouto consistently.

But since Sunday evening, you had only seen Shouto once when you were drunk with Shishikura. You had only spoken to him then too.

For the first time in seventeen years, you broke your record of not talking or seeing Shouto.

From two days to five.

It was weird.

You felt almost empty.

So when Mina and Uraraka placed their arms around your shoulders, their eyes dead serious, you knew that they had a distraction for you.

“The deltas are throwing a party,” Uraraka spoke with mystery. “It is on Saturday.”

“It is only right that we go, get our asses so drunk our blood is practically a distillery, and fuck anyone who looks at us a second longer than anyone else,” Mina agrees, her tone wise and knowing as she nods her head.

“Our question to you is:” they spoke together, their voices weirdly, obviously practiced, in synch. “Are you in?”

Your tongue is pressed between your lips, your fingers pressing against the textbook you were using to help support your essay’s thesis, and you roll your eyes.

You grin.

“Obviously.”

And as time promises each and every time, Saturday finally came.

“What is our objective tonight?!” Mina screams over the background music that Jirou is blasting in Momo’s larger-than-life bathroom.

“To fuck bitches and get money!” Hagakure, the only one currently not downing a drink, screams back.

“NO, WRONG!” Mina shakes her head, climbing onto the white marble countertops and pointing at Jirou. “Kyo! Your turn!”

“To beat that prick in the sound booth and prove that I’m—”

“NO! Wrong again! Yaomomo!”

“Um, to make everlasting mem—”

“INCORRECT, YOU GORGEOUS PRINCESS! Tsuyu, don’t fail me, babe!”

“Well, it’s to prove to Todoroki that y/n-chan should be able to fuck any person she wants.”

“A bit lengthy, a bit focused on the wrong parts of it, but YES! Tonight’s operation: get y/n a man — preferably Inasa — who fucks the negativity out of her!”

You laugh loudly, rolling your eyes as you lean in closer to the mirror. You hold a Mike’s Hard in one hand, and in the other is your eyeliner as you paint on your makeup. You’re not really hearing the conversations that the girls are having, your own mind too lost in the music, and the swaying you’ve picked up as the three bottles of Mike’s you’ve had in the past thirty minutes are calming down your still frazzled nerves.

You don’t pull away from your reflection until after you’re done smoothing over your favorite lipstick on your pouty lips. You look over at your reflection and see Mina dancing with an awkwardly stiff Jirou and a delightfully giggling Momo on the bathroom countertops. A smile forms on your face, happiness radiating in your chest, and you grin looking at your friends.

But Shouto still sat in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder why.

Why did it hurt knowing that he was avoiding you as much as you were him?

Why didn’t he just try to corner you?

Why did you care that he didn’t?

He was your best friend in the entire world, since your earliest memories, he’s been there, you reason, your whooping not quite as loud as you watch Jirou awkwardly be sandwich between a grinding Mina and a complacent Momo.

It was his fault you, you further reasoned, smiling widely at Hagakure, who was twirling around you, applying her lipstick as a super crazy never before seen talent of hers. He was the one acting like an idiot over the people you slept with even though you let all the people he slept with slide!

But why did you?

Your brows furrowed slightly, unfurrowing just as quickly as Mina pulled you and Uraraka up onto the countertop with her as Jirou and Momo dropped to the floor.

You fucking were in love with Shouto, damnit! Of course you let the stupid personal things go just to appease him! Your back straightened, your eyes rolling as you began to dance with the Kehlani music thumping in the background, but then you freeze.

You were in love with him.

You loved Shouto.

Not in a friendly, platonic, family way.

In an ‘I would date you if I could and marry you on the prettiest beach in front of the most beautiful sunset’ way.

You found that your body was dancing on autopilot as you began to reassess your thoughts, your actions, your wants with Shouto, desperately trying to disprove this love for him. But no matter what you did, you found that it was true no matter what angle you looked at it.

The bass dropped, and you went stiff, your body standing straight and tall although you felt incredibly, terribly small.

“I love him,” you spoke, although you’re not sure who to. Maybe it was to the laughing gods above you or the crying spirits around you. But the girls heard it for some reason, and they, as they were patiently waiting for these past six, nearly seven days, caught you as you went weak.

Finally, realizing that you were in love with your childhood best friend was not the conclusion you expected from a week's silence from Shouto and you. But as you were currently in a crop top with a mesh shirt underneath and the most ripped jeans you owned, chugging down a neon green and blue nearly toxic alcoholic drink, you realized that being at this party was the right way to conclude this circus of a week.

The rush of the liquid dropping down the beer bong was something you found yourself struggling to keep up with, and you felt some of the liquid pour out of your mouth as you grunt, trailing down your heaving chest, creating an image in your onlookers as you refused to choke or pull away. Swallowing the last bit of the drink, ripping the plastic tube out of your mouth, you threw your hands in the air, Tsuyu, who had held and poured the contents for you, screaming too as she lifted your arm in victory.

You couldn’t really hear the music anymore, much more entranced with the music you were singing on your own, and you were currently holding Mina’s face, touching foreheads with her as you spoke a mantra of your love for her.

“Ashido Mina, you are the baddest bitch in the whole wide world. I love your pink hair and your fat ass, and I would die for you. I love you… so fucking much,” is what you said. How it was actually said and how it was perceived is a whole other story because Mina laughed loudly and allowed you to hug her despite your sticky alcohol body.

Your twenties were the new two’s, it seemed.

“Yo, y/l/n!” a voice yelled, and although you let go of Mina’s face, your arms found a new home around her neck as you turned around.

“Hm?”

Your terrible drunk eyes looked all over before falling on a man wearing a basketball jersey and joggers.

Shindou Yo, one of campus’ manwhores. He had a reputation similar to Shouto, you knew that very well, but you were aware that he was disturbingly creepy. According to many vital witnesses, the man slept with just about anyone willing regardless of gender, so not only did you know what the girls thought of him, experienced with him, there was a wider demographic not even Shouto had entered. Number one thing to be told was the fact that Shindou was into some heavy, dark shit to an extreme, his room reeked of sex, and he himself smelled like booze, weed, and BO. But a strong dick was a strong dick at the end of the day.

“Come play beer pong with me?” he asked, his hands shoved into his pockets as he smiled innocently. “I’ve heard some pretty solid shit about your skills, and I want to see how I add up.”

“I’ll play!” you agree immediately, jumping at the thought of drinking more. “Bu I don’t wa’ beer… ish nashty.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

With your arm still holding onto Mina, you accepted Shindou’s hand and allowed him to drag you off to where he wanted to play the game of beer pong.

The game of beer pong went without a single thing going wrong. You were paired up with Shindou, and Mina had managed to find Kirishima in the crowd before you got to your destination and demanded she have him as a partner and not Monoma.

It was safe to say that you were drunk, disgustingly out of your mind. It was an intense game of Cup Pong, the two different teams equally as bad in the drunken stupor, but finally, the two teams were down to a single cup and Kirishima — who was the only reason why they were winning!!!! — had the last ball. You watched in terrible apprehension, fingers digging into Shinsou’s biceps as Kirishima rose the wet ping pong ball to Mina’s lips and let her blow on it for good luck before bringing it back in and began a few steadying practice throws.

“You know, I’m glad I saw you at this party,” Shindou whispers to you, his head ducking down so that you and only you could hear that.

“Why?” you say a lot louder than you wanted, your heart hammering in fear that you would lose this game.

“Because you’re sexy as fuck,” Shindou spoke, his voice turning deeper, huskier, “and now you’re single.”

You blink, attention stolen from the game as you forgot about the final cup and looked at Shindou with a blank stare and an open mouth.

“What?”

“Cuz you and Todoroki are over,” Shindou explains to you as if you’re a child. “You guys are over, right? That’s all everyone’s talking about, and all us guys are ready to fuck you whenever you’re ready.”

His smirk irritates you, the lust in his eyes angering you as you drop your hold on his arm.

“We weren’t together, and you knew that,” you say, eyes narrowing as the crowd watching the game explodes in raging cheers as Kirishima sinks the ball into the cup. “Why the fuck would Shouto be fucking every girl that walks if we were together? What makes you think I’d be okay with it?”

“You’re a cuck,” Shindou continues on, confidence unaffected. “Oh, are the two of you maybe changing roles now? Does the big guy want me to fuck you in front of him?”

Your fist makes contact with his throat before you can even stop yourself and the cheers quickly turn into gasps.

After apologizing profusely to the party holders, they decided that you could, in fact, stay at the party. Your knuckles throbbed in pain, the alcohol in your system buzzing in you in a way that wasn’t fun or relaxing as you made a simple side-step dance move in the middle of the dance floor. The girls, who had at the beginning of the party, drifted ways, had once more glued themselves at your side on the floor. You weren’t in a dancing mood as you took a drink of what you assumed to be a Moscow mule made by Mina for you to keep you at a high for the rest of the party.

Like hell you would ever let Shouto cuck you!

Let him fuck another woman in front of you?

You would go insane if he ever thought that would be acceptable.

“Down girl, relax!” Mina yelled by your ear. “I thought I was babysitting y/n, not Bakugou Katsuki!”

You startled, realizing that your frown had become a fierce snarl as you danced on the floor.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you feeling good again; let’s enjoy this night!” Mina exclaimed, her hands pushing your drink to your mouth and forcing you to chug the contents of the drink. The red Solo Cup is dropped to the floor as soon as you finish. She grabbed your wrists and began to fluidly move your arms — or as well as she could manage herself because she, too, was drunk.

But with Mina winking and smiling at you, the rest of the girls eventually throw themselves into your linked dance circle, your own negative emotions left and in came joy.

It took about another round of ten songs for the dance circle to be destroyed and to have all of you resuming a rave-like jumping and scream-singing as Jirou finally snuck her way into the DJ booth and succeeded to take over. You spun around at the end of one song, laughing completely out of breath as you clapped your hands together. You often forget that while Jirou only listened to a very specific genre, she was a musical genius who had banger playlists for every occasion.

It seemed frat parties were one of them.

However, the next song had your head tilting backward, your grin spreading even wider as you began to move your hips in slow, distinct movements. Dancing with your hips was something you had learned, something you instilled into your dancing category for as long as you could remember.

The beats were loud, deep, thumping deep in the ground and vibrating with great strength in your chest as you pointed a finger at Mina, who was also dancing similarly to you. Your lips moved as you sang the song quietly, the heat and humidity of the room suddenly pressing onto you like another person. You hummed, flicking the parts of your hair sticking to the nape of your neck off, grateful for the slightly cooler air hitting your sweaty skin.

As you rolled your hips down, your hands fanning yourself, trying to cool down your deliriously warm, alcohol-heated body, you froze for just a bit. A person pressed to your back, your ass pressing against a hot thigh, and a hand resting upon the curve of your thigh, keeping you in place. You might have cared, but the body against yours was a welcomed one. Your hips and ass continuing to move in tandem with the music, deliberate highs and lows, and you worked your way up and down the man's body who met yours with spinning accuracy that made you began to pant, your heart racing because this was hot to you. You raised your arms behind you, clasping onto his neck, keeping him on you.

His hair was soft under your touch, slightly sweaty but threaded and parted between your fingers just too easily. His left hand, which had found a spot on your stomach, was radiating heat, something easily felt due to you only having mesh cloth there.

It was slow.

Sensual.

Somehow familiar.

Absolutely mind-numbing.

His chest broad against your back, muscles strong and tight against you.

He was skilled, practiced. Someone you knew was not going to disappoint you, and as your lust-glazed eyes took in the entirely shocked looks of your friends, you finally turned to look.

Somehow, someway, you weren’t shocked at all to see Shouto’s clouded, dark eyes locking on yours. Your world seems to freeze as something between you and Shouto is so obviously broken between you, forever changing, no longer able to go back. It didn’t matter that this was the first time in almost a week you had seen him, had talked to him, he was there, and you wanted to feel his skin scorching against yours. His touch screamed of his want for you, your recognition of your love for him, and your current lust for him. You were angry, hurt, confused, but you were too drunk to care, too intoxicated on the spell the two of you created on this dance floor.

But even as your world froze, the music continued on.

Grabbing Shouto’s hand, you spun around so that his chest was now pressed against yours, your legs between his. You continued dancing, continued to roll your hips down as you sunk down to the ground as Shouto remained standing, his hand supporting and balancing you as you went down and up. He began to dance with you again, the world seemingly disappearing as the two of you ground and panted heavily in each other's ears.

He pushed forward, and you whined, feeling the blazing swollen heat of his semi-hard cock against your stomach, but you met him there.

Your fingers fisting in his hair as his hands found their way into your back pockets, gripping your ass, and your eyes fluttered shut as his mouth, blazing, intense, and intentful, mashed against yours. You kissed him back immediately, all defenses abandoned to that of your lust, wants, and needs. His mouth was a fire, his kiss a blaze that consumed you, drowned you, made you push for more.

It was a kiss that lasted who knows how long, but by the time you had separated, you could feel the familiar sting to your slowly swelling lips and the song that had ended.

His eyes were a near black, his cheeks flushed, and his arms kept you so close you had to think if you were in the privacy of your home or in public.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice begging, pleading for him.

“I need you,” he responded, his voice equally wishing.

“Take me home,” you speak, lips pressing sloppy, desperate hot kisses to his neck. “Take me home and fuck me.”

“Fuck, yes, okay. Let’s go,” Shouto pants, his hands leaving your ass and grabbing onto one of yours before taking you and dragging you away.

It wouldn’t hit you until much later, but the very first kiss you had ever had with Shouto was in the middle of a dance floor, at a party where the male population had been ready to snatch you up after your relationship with Shouto was so-called over.

You were breathless.

No matter how deep you inhaled, you felt like you weren’t having enough oxygen flooding your veins, filling your lungs. You laugh loudly in the night, uncaring about the strangers you passed looking at you and Shouto, who chuckled and snorted with every giggle you made.

This felt crazy, insane, something serendipitous and not real even in the smallest of bits.

He kissed you.

He wanted you.

He said he needed you.

Wants and needs were different things, but he said need.

He needed you.

Just you.

Your feet ached from the running, but you could only focus on Shouto, your mind filling and swimming in the memory of his body pressed to you. The way his lips ghosted over your neck, and the way he danced against you — with you. The four-block walk back to your apartment seemed too far, and your eyes locked on a nearing alleyway.

With much more strength than you should have, you shoved Shouto into the alleyway, your mouth immediately pressing onto his.

Shouto groaned into your mouth, letting you drink his noises as you pulled him close, consuming him in a messy clash of teeth, spit, and tongue. You whined back, your legs slotting between his thigh and grinding down on the hard muscle. It alleviated the growing, scorching heat in your panties but also intensified it, making you want for more and more and more.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Shouto groaned in your mouth, shifting and guiding your rolling hips his thigh better, more fluid, more intense.

Your eyes barely cracked open, your mouth no longer kissing him put pressing against his in an open mouth pant. Your drunken breath saying nothing but implying the world.

Something Shouto was more than keen on giving you.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered for you to hear, so reverent, so holy. And so that you, the center of his world, the only thing he saw and believed in, knew how passionately, how ardently he believed in you, his mouth slid down your neck, and his teeth sunk in your flesh. He claimed you, praised you, making you a part of him.

“I’m still so mad at you!” you moan, voice pitched, whiny, and deliriously high. “I love you, asshole. I love you, and you sleep around! I love you, and I don’t care if you sleep around, but you care that I sleep around?!”

“I love you too,” Shouto mumbles against your neck, his teeth continuing to press into your skin that seems to explode with heat at the revelation. “I love, and I’m an idiot; I’m so sorry.”

And then he does something with his tongue against your neck, the soft of swipes, the wet tickling heat making your head slam back against the brick wall, and a mangled, strangled moan of unadulterated want emits from you.

“We'll talk about this in the morning,” you pant, fingers fisting in his shirt. “We can fix this, but right now, shut up and fuck me.”

“Y/n—”

“I’m horny,” you interrupt, hips sharply jutting into his leg. “You made me horny. Take responsibility.”

His eyes flashed dark, his nostrils flaring, and your words cemented in his head. He resumed his painting, his worship on your neck as you cried loudly in the alleyway, desperate, needy for more.

It was dizzying to have him on you like this.

For so long, you had only touched him in a few ways, had only ever felt a specific type of warmth. But this was unlike anything you’ve ever done with him, to him. It felt like you were burning and freezing, consumed by heat and energy and everything Shouto. His all too familiar cologne filled your nose, drowning your brain, invading your senses. His frantic heartbeat felt against your own body, telling you exactly how you were affecting him, how you made his heart speed and jump with every breathy whine.

“Fuck, I can’t do this. We need to get home now!” Shouto growls, his hands grabbing you by the wrist yet again and pulling you away.

His strides are long, quick, and powerful. You’re running to keep up, beautifully out of breath, staggering and stumbling to keep up in his objective to get back to the apartment now.

It doesn’t seem to take long before he’s pushing open the doors to the apartment complex, corralling you through the doors and into the elevator to get to the eleventh floor. The elevator doors are behind you, and with no one else in the life, you turn on him and immediately resume your own endeavor of claiming Shouto with your mouth, body, and soul. He matches your intensity, hands roaming from where the clasp of your bra sat to the curve of your ass. He grabbed you, pulled you in closer, the air in his nose staggering as you stammer against his mouth.

Teeth touch lips, tongues in each other's cheeks, and Shouto leads you out of the elevator backward, his one hand on your waist forever steady and the other one holding the key. Your fingers are back in his hair, pulling and tugging sharply on the soft, short strands with nearly disappeared gel. He gets to the door, fumbling with the key as you continue to kiss him, distracting him with the smallest of movements.

“Which room?” he asks against your mouth, pushing you through the threshold, his foot closing the door behind him.

The shoes are haphazardly kicked off and you’re now on your tiptoes to continue kissing him as you were. You tried to think, tried to figure out if you wanted to be surrounded by Shouto’s scent or to have him displayed in your room. His teeth then suckle on your bottom lip, biting down on the swollen, hot flesh just gentle enough that your mind draws a blank and your voice responds on its own.

“Mine.”

You shriek then, Shouto swiftly picking you up off the floor and you panic, hands swatting and beating on him as you scream to let you down. He continues walking, holding you without a worry, his arms remaining strong and firm beneath you. But with your distraction, with your lips no longer pressed sinfully against his, Shouto’s mouth finds a junction point on your clavicle and sinks his teeth down again, claiming you once more.

“S-Sho—” your voice hitches, the feeling too intense for you to process all at once. You hear your room door open and close, and without warning, you’re soaring through the air before collapsing on the bed.

“You think I go to the gym to get muscles for fun?” Shouto taunts, his fingers hooking under the dark grey t-shirt he’s wearing. “Angel, I go to the gym to make sure I can fuck you in any position, against any surface or wall you want.”

Your body feels like it's scorching as he removes his shirt, his muscles rippling and moving seductively with the devious, intentional movement.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Shouto asks, the shirt dropping to the floor, removing all traces of oxygen from your person. He steps closer, fingers circling around your ankle and suddenly pulling you in toward him until you were sitting at the edge, his lips hovering over yours. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your tongue feels dry in your mouth, but your eyes narrow before you push up and capture his mouth back with yours. He kisses you back deeply, bending down so that you begin to shift backward, allowing him the space to crawl onto the bed with you, and at the last moment, your leg wraps around his waist and spins the both of you. Shouto gasps as you pin him onto the mattress, your tongue invading his mouth, brushing and swirling against his, coaxing his own tongue back into your own mouth. With the wet heat in your mouth, your teeth playfully, just gently dig into his appendage and tug.

“No, but it seems like I got yours,” you humor him, your teeth releasing his tongue, and Shouto looks up at you like you were both the sun and the moon, and the stars were a gift to him.

It takes your breath away.

Shouto grins, shifting onto his elbows so that he’s closer to you before kissing you again.

The kiss is growing louder, both your mouths ever so consuming, trying to relay years of repressed, unknown emotions and feelings within a drastic, incredible touch. Your hips begin shifting against his crotch, humping his clothed erection, demonstrating yet again the power and grace you hold in your body.

Shouto’s hands move from your ribs up to your breasts, and with the hot, rough flesh of his skin, he squeezes your tender flesh. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking wildly against him at the sensation. It isn’t a powerful flesh, but a reminder, a demonstration of just what and where he could inflect passionate actions.

Your hands scour his chest, fingernails dragging teasingly down his firm, developed muscles, fingers flicking and teasing at his own exposed nipples. Shouto grunts into your mouth, hips bucking powerfully upward into your clothed cunt, and you splutter at the power behind it. But it seems as though Shouto is over the fishnet mesh shirt and crop top you’re wearing because he’s tugging it out of the waistband of your jeans and commands in a deep, lust-ridden voice: “Off.”

Goosebumps flash across your skin, bubbling and spraying across your sensitive skin as your shirt and crop top join Shouto’s on the floor. Your gasp loudly when Shouto rolls the both of you over swiftly, his mouth immediately pressing hot, viper kisses on your breasts. All thought and reason leave your mind as his teeth nip and pull. His fingers pushing the straps of your bra off your shoulders and shoving your boobs out of the bra in a firm hold.

“You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted to touch you, kiss you, fuck you,” Shouto whispers, his tone almost dark as his hot air fans against your already pebbling nipples. “Fuck, angel, you’re better than anything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

You whine loudly, fingers tangling in his hair as you desperately, wordlessly try to persuade him to put his lips around your attentive, eager nipples.

“I always forget you got these things,” Shouto says in wonder, his fingers touching the metal bars sitting so innocently, deviously on through your nipple. He tugs on the bar, and all the nerves in your breast fire and tingle, and your feet curl by his back as you whimper. “Fuck... I can’t believe I forgot…”

“S-Shouto, I fucking swear!” you almost screech, hands desperately pulling at strands of red and white, wanting his teeth and tongue and the suction of his mouth on your nipple. “Stop. Fucking. Talking!”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Okay,” he says cheekily, and as if he read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your all too ready nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, clacking against the metal in your flesh. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, although you have no idea what you’re begging for. Your hips pathetically grinding into his clothed cock, trying to get yourself to cum while not having been touched. “Sho— Shouto!”

Shouto pulls away from your nipple with a loud pop. His breath panting, short, and overwhelmingly strained as if simply sucking your throbbing, needy nipple had given him the same amount of pleasure as it did you before consuming your forgotten one. Just as before, you melted against him, begging please, pretty please to him but never telling him what you were wanting. You didn’t know what you were wanting.

But unlike before, his hands leave their attentive position on your free nipple and slam your hips back down onto the mattress, keeping you down and still as he continued his ministrations until you were nipplegasming. You choked as the orgasm consumed you, your body going rigid and your eyes rolling to the depths of your head as his hot mouth was all you could think of. For a moment, the needy wet heat between your thighs was easily ignorable, something unneeded until Shouto was pulling away and kissing you again.

His chest was pressed tight against your own chest, your sensitive, overstimulated nipples rubbing against his chest with the welcomed friction as you let out a wordless, near-dizzy sigh into Shouto’s mouth. He kissed you with incredible passion, with dizzying heat, and consuming lust.

Your voice was so small, your voice easily drowned in Shouto’s mouth as your fingernails dug into his back and raked down pathetically, desperately proving that you were still here. Still fighting him on just who would win this night. Your fingers went down the curve of his spine, trailing down until you found the waistband of his sweats, and with his mouth everso distractingly on the swell of your breasts, biting, marking, and sucking hickies and his print on you for forever, he helped you slide the pants off.

In an almost dramatic fashion, his eyes burning deep into yours, leaving you stunned and a worshiper at his feet, he rose off your bed and let the pants fall. You shakily inhaled, your eyes suddenly transfixed and only seeing the hard, leaking dick that stood tall and proud against his twitching stomach. At the mere sight of him, you now truly, completely, and entirely understood just why the girls were obsessed.

From tip to the base, he was thick, the flush of his skin gorgeous, the curve of his cock optimal to fuck anyone. He was long, thick, and delicious—trimmed pubes of red and white and balls that had your mouth watering and going dry. You wondered, imagined, tried to visualize just how much it was going to hurt getting that in you. You’ve never had a man with a dick like that, never had to choke or fuck on something that looked like it would possibly render you stupid the moment you were impaled.

“Can I?” you ask, ‘can I touch you? Can I suck you?’ go unsaid.

“You owe me one,” Shouto says, his words teasing if it wasn’t for the way his voice betrayed him with the eagerness, the want and inexplicable tell that says if you don’t touch him, he will lose his fucking mind. “Please, do it.”

You’re dragging him back onto the bed, sitting him by your headboard, spreading his legs apart as you situate yourself between them. With a tentative, shaky hand, you reach out and grab on his dick.

His flesh is hot to the touch; it's hard and twitches just so at your grasp. Shouto lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, and you look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, your nose touching the underside of his length and nuzzling into the flesh. You look back up at him with hooded eyes, eyes dark with mirth, lust, and an overwhelming need to please Shouto. He stares back, eyes entirely too bright, almost scared, almost as if he can’t believe this is happening.

You smile softly, eyes breaking contact to look at the swelling cock in your hand, and then back at him as your tongue pokes out of your mouth and puts a long, wet stripe against his length.

And Shouto?

Shouto moans like a man who’s had warm food after days of starving.

You lick from base to tip, saliva mixing with precum as your mouth presses teasing, open mouth kisses down the length of his cock, tongue pressing against the sweltering heat of his balls.

“Fuck, y/n, stop teasing,” Shouto grits, his hips pathetically snapping into nothing, his hands desperately trying to touch you, to which you swatted him away each and every time. You tut, shaking your head. With both your hands fisting his dick at the middle of his length, your squeeze and pull in opposite directions.

The reaction is one that you were hoping for, Shouto’s head slamming to the headboard with a clash, his legs jumping just a bit, and precum coming out in even heavy drops. You laugh breathlessly at his display, enamored with how fucking easy he is to get to make noises. He’d never made noises before, no other girl had him the way you did, and that made you crazy with power.

Before you wanted to, your mouth consumed to head of his cock, allowing the musky smell that was completely and only Shouto to fully consume you. You sucked on his thick swollen head, tongue pressing on the leaking slit on his head as he choked on your name. You smile, taking him in further, straining against the weight in your mouth, the pressure on the back of your throat, and the stretch of your throat. As soon as you had him a bit way in, you were pushing out, his hips driving to find you but missing you. Shouto’s noise was almost broken, near needy, and your head spun with his noises. Unable to stop, you pushed in again, allowing the drive of his hips to send his cock further down your throat.

Tears filled your eyes at the action, his cock much too large, much too thick to be fucked into your throat as such. Your fists acted as a barrier as you adjusted, your throat humming, mouth moaning as Shouto lost himself to the heat of your wet mouth. You bobbed your head, fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks. You sucked his dick with the intention of ruining him, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you needed to consume. You let go of one hand, allowing it to fondle with his balls as his cock went further into your mouth, the sounds of your choking, gagging, and crying egging him on.

“You take me so good,” Shouto sang to you, whispering words that only you’ve heard. “Fuck, angel, take me all the way. I know you can do it.”

With his hands at the back of your head, your fingers squeezing his balls, and the shaky removal of your final hand on his cock, he drives his hips all the way up. Shouto curses loudly, and you choke, feeling the rush of cum shooting down your throat, and you’re let free.

“Swallow it all, don’t spit it up,” Shouto breathes, his body shifting upward, eyes intent, focused. “Let me see.”

You cough violently, mouth closed as you swallow the salty cum, only letting your mouth open to allow the drool and spit to drip from your flat tongue as you show him that you swallowed every last seed. He groaned, grasping you by the chin and pulling you back in for a passionate, all-consuming kiss. The taste of Shouto and his cum sat heavily in your throat, and you were shaking as he began to unbutton your jeans, shedding them off of you as he flipped you back around so that your back was resting against the mattress.

Salt sweat dripped down your neck, and Shouto left fingertip bruises on your waist, your knees and legs awkwardly kicking as you finally got your jeans off your ankles. You shuttered, feeling Shouto’s hot, spit-slick dick pressing against your stomach, your cunt flipping and twisting at the thought of taking him all in.

“You’re still, fuck… you’re still hard?” you gasp, Shouto’s fingers tracing the innards of your thighs, scratching at your ass, slapping it once, twice, leaving you pitched and shaking.

“How can I not be when you’re down beneath me?” Shouto asks, his eyes looking at you as if he was burning the very naked image to you in his brain for him forever. “You’re mine, right?”

The question itself, while unexpected, was not unwanted.

You feel yourself nodding, your fingers scratching up his flexed arms, “Yours and only yours.”

“Good,” Shouto smirks, leaning in, his entire weight on the one hand beside your head, making you groan as his lips were so close yet so far away. “I’m yours as you are mine.”

With that, his fingers pressed to your thus far, unattended to clit, your legs shaking, kicking the air as you howled in pleasure. But it was such an intimate place, something you never expected Shouto to ever touch, and so, in a voice so pathetic you couldn’t even recognize it as yours, you screeched: “D-Don’t touch that!”

Shouto cocked an eyebrow, his head tilting as his fingers swirled around your swollen nub, sending just enough electrifying pleasure through every neuron in your body. “Why not?” he asked, voice authoritative and curious and sadistic. “It’s mine — you’re mine. I can play with what’s mine whenever I want.”

The words make your entire will collapse, the words liquid heat in your ears and mind. You moan loudly, feeling Shouto adjust your hips, lining your spasming cunt with his cock, and with his tongue delving into your mouth, his lips pressing against yours, he slowly pushed into you.

Shouto was loud the entire way into you, the deep grunts, breathless moans, and mindless babble of how this was unlike anything he’s had before, better than anything he’s ever imagined. He bottoms out quickly, hands leaving purple bruises against your skin as you lay on the bed silent.

Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single tone noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper over and over, your legs tight around Shouto’s hips, shaking with the feeling in you. “God, y-you’re so big, Sho… I’m—”

You can’t finish your sentence because he shifts just enough that his cock is meeting places in you that had never been encountered before. Your eyes roll back again, your fingers pressing ruby red scars to his back as you scratch and tear his back.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Shouto pants, his mouth panting against the sweat on your collarbone, his own breathing heavy and spaced. “You’re perfect, y/n, so fucking perfect.”

You preen with those words, your mouth finding a home at his temple to which you kiss him, drag your lips down to his ear. You bite and nibble as you adjust to him buried deep within you. And he heaves a sigh and pushes up off you, eyes daring to stare into you as he huffs almost in disbelief of this entire night.

“I’m going to start moving,” he says, fingers scratching down your sides to your thighs. “Are you ready?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod. Shouto smiles, leaning back down for one last kiss to which you quickly returned, staying there as his hips moved backward before thrusting back into you. It's the first thrust of many, but your arms wrap even tighter underneath his own, your nails scarring his back as he goes again and again. You fucks into you deliberately, readily, with purpose and skill that speaks wonders and lives up to the many rumors you’ve ever heard.

His thrusts are powerful, slapping into your thighs with a mighty smack, making you whimper and wail into his salty neck as your hips lift up to meet his. It's a powerful dance, a dizzying cycle. His cock sliding up and down your puffy velvet walls, your weeping walls clenching him in a vice, unforgiving and unwilling to let go.

He speaks praises into your ear, your yours, your mouth.

“Such a pretty angel, moaning for me, crying for me, tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want me buried in your fucking stomach.”

You are converted to him in return, seeing him, speaking to him, devoted to him.

“Fuck, I want you more. Faster, harder! Don’t stop! I can feel you in my stomach, Sho! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!”

His weight is pressed on your thighs, spreading your thighs further apart, fucking into deeper, fucking you so powerfully, so desperately your soaked cunt squelches and drips your essence, soaking your bed and his legs. Your teeth sink into his skin, copper filling your mouth, and your vision feels missing as you are slamming your hips up, rolling them desperately to fuck back into him. You can feel his hand clutching yours, pressing it into the mattress as he somehow speeds up again, drilling you into the mattress, the bed creaking and bending under both your weight.

“More, more, more!”

And he gives, and gives, and gives.

You wail his name, the heat in your skin, tickling your clit and innards making you sweat, the alcohol on your skin sticking you to Shouto.

Shouto grunts your name, hisses your name, damns you heaven and back for having such a fucking grip on him. It's when he looks into your eyes, cock drilling into you at a speed and power that no human should ever obtain, one hand gripping yours and the other pinching and teasing your clit, you cum, bursting open at the seams.

Your orgasm is loud, clenching, all-consuming, and you drag Shouto down with you as he stammers, shudders, and cums deep within your womb. His seed spilling out of you as the both of you collapse onto the bed with breathless, thoughtless minds.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Right?” you chuckle.

And with your nose pressed to his sweaty, sex-lulled body, you fall asleep with his hands traveling up and down your spine. Hopefully, things would be well when you woke up.

P R E S E N T

To stop you from screeching so loudly you woke up the entire world, Shouto held his hand to your mouth, his eyes wide, terrified, and completely confused.

“Please stop yelling… my head hurts…” Shouto begs, his face completely exhausted but with that post-orgasm sleep glow.

“We had sex?!” you shriek, throwing his hand off your mouth. “We were mad at each other, and we had sex?!”

“Oh,” Shouto seems to remember, his head rolling before he sat up, bringing you up with him. “Right, we should talk about that, huh?”

“You think?!” you shriek, entirely overwhelmed with the fact that you had done so much embarrassing shit last night.

It’s quiet for a bit. The birds chirping outside an almost cheerful taunt as the both of you, for the first time in seventeen years, find it too awkward to talk. No one wants to speak first, to mention the elephant in the room, for once it happened, there really was no going back. Not that there was much to go back from.

“I’m in love with you,” Shouto finally says. It’s an admittance, a whisper that's strong despite it told in such a hushed voice as if you would laugh at him as he confessed. “I’ve actually been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Now that shocks you.

Your eyes are wide, and you’re staring at Shouto, unsure what to say, what to ask, but you know you need more answers.

“I know, hard to believe, huh?” Shouto chuckles, his hand running through his sex and sleep disheveled hair. “It’s true, though… I don’t remember not ever being in love with you.”

“No… no way,” you say, your body running cold, and you shiver. You remember then that you’re sitting up, and you’re very incredibly naked. Shouto notices and moves to grab a blanket at the foot of the bed and wraps it around you. “That doesn’t make sense,” you argue, your furrowed brows making your skin crease as you try to think back on all your years and memories, looking for signs in which Todoroki Shouto loved you. “You never showed it.”

“Camie said the same thing,” Shouto sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Before I was sixteen… I don’t know; I guess I could understand why. I only ever talked to you, always paired up with you. I let you hold my hand, and I let you hug me… I thought me telling you that I had never been kissed before would make you want to kiss me, but it never did. I know I was awkward and a little different when we were younger, so when I was paired up with Camie… I thought she would help me.”

“By fucking you?” you asked, your frown deepening as you remembered your bitter feelings over Camie stealing Shouto’s virginity.

“She… she said that by being sexual, maybe you would see me as a man, and not the four-year-old crying boy in preschool,” Shouto smiled sadly, his fingers picking at one another. “Me having sex was supposed to show you that I was a man who wanted to see you as a woman in return, but it didn’t work.”

“Well, no shit,” you snort, relaxing a bit although you felt limp. You found yourself leaning against Shouto’s strong shoulders, your head landing heavily on him. “You went from a virgin to fucking anything with a wet hole.”

“...yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Shouto said with regret, his shoulders sagging just a bit. “At first, I thought I needed to fuck more girls to prove I was a man to you because you acted like nothing had happened after Camie… but sex was fun, it felt good.”

“Sex is good,” you agree with a soft chuckle to which he returned.

He shifted a bit, arms tightening and relaxing before he finally admitted, “It helped distract me from you because you looked at others the way I wanted you to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back.

“No, don’t be,” Shouto speaks firmly, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It was my fault. I was never assertive enough, confident enough to simply confess.”

“So, does you being in love with me having anything to do with you driving the entire male population away from me?”

Your eyes look up at him, finding his embarrassed gaze before he glances away.

“That actually wasn’t intentional… I guess I just talk about you a lot.”

“Yeah, but still doesn’t mean you couldn’t ever deny it yourself!”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Apologize then.”

“Y/l/n Y/n, I am sorry for making the entire male population we’ve ever come across think we were an item and not telling them otherwise. I am sorry for keeping you from enjoying sex while I continued to. I am lousy, and my love for you should be unreturned because that was ass of me.”

You sigh, your lips pursed to keep from smiling as you looked back at his handsome face.

“Now, ask me the damn question, crybaby.”

“Crybaby?”

“You finally admitted that you were, in fact, crying!!!!!”

If you asked Shishikura Seiji what the worst thing about being the third roommate to Todoroki Shouto and you was, he would give a million and three answers as to why it was the worst.

One: he absolutely hated how loud the both of you were. Todoroki Shouto was someone he thought was quiet and introverted, but whenever he was around you, he was loud. You were just plain old loud, and he thought it was annoying.

Two: he absolutely hated your rice. Call it petty, but after you fed him on his first night and tried putting him into a chokehold for saying the song your rice cooker sang at its end was the stupidest fucking thing ever made, everything you made taste like ash and dirt.

Twenty: he hated that there were biweekly karaoke nights. He would be studying away in his room and wanted to die when he heard the all too familiar sound of Mamma Mia’s Here We Go Again blasting in the living room.

Hundred fifty-seven: SO. MUCH. FUCKING. SEX.

Three hundred thirteen: SO. MUCH. DRINKING.

Five thousand: SO. MUCH. WEED.

Ten thousand three: you put his toilet seat up whenever you’re drunk, so he falls in when he goes to pee in the morning.

Five hundred: the way the both of you looked at each other, fucking disgusting.

To say the least, there were a lot of many different reasons scaling from actual issues to petty small shit, but Shishikura was not in any position to find a new apartment, so he stayed. To be quite honest, having been living with Dumb and Dumber (you and Shouto, respectively), he only thought there would be one thing that would make him lose his actual mind.

The day that would inevitably come and the both of you realized your feelings were, in fact, returned. He didn’t want to even imagine how the animalistic sex he often had to hear coming from your hallway would increase, or the sappy stupid romantic love he would see in the living room because as best friends, you both had no care for PDA and if you were allowed to kiss? Allowed to have sex? He feared he would have to wear a hazmat suit in every corner of the apartment. You both were already incredibly loud as a duo (see reason one as to why he hates living here); he feared the worst when the mutual love was realized.

But he exited his room a week after that Sunday morning with a fully loaded water gun just in case. His eyes narrowed, the hair on his neck raised as his beady eyes focused in on the living room.

Shouto sat on the couch, his back on the armrest, and you sitting between his thighs as you watched him play some game on his Switch, your smile large and annoyingly bright, but he realized that he couldn’t hear you screaming or speaking so loudly he could listen to the conversation.

No, as a matter of fact, Shishikura couldn’t hear a single word; the words being exchanged between you and Shouto spoke so softly, so intimately, it shocked him. Shishikura noticed with an almost awed surprise that even though your smile was as annoyingly bright as before. It wasn’t directed at anything but Shouto, and Shouto’s smile, while nowhere near as big, just as warm and full to you.

It was intimate, romantic even.

Nothing had changed in your relationship except now, finally, now, you were allowed to kiss and fuck each other like heat-driven animals.

Shishikura was shocked to his core, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him.

You nor Shouto paid him any mind, too lost in the game and in each other to look his way as he made his way into the kitchen for his lunch. Shishikura set the water gun on the counter, a small smile spreading on his face despite himself, and chuckled.

Maybe the two of you together weren’t something to hate on after all.

“Hey, is that a water gun?!”

[extremelyblackandwhite]

into the woods

PAIRING: alpha!bucky barnes x innocent omega!reader

WARNINGS: age gap (reader in her 20′s, bucky in his mid to late 30′s), smut, a/b/o dynamics

A/N: this has some acotar vibes because i was reading it while writing this but i hope you enjoy it. have fun xx

The High Lady of the North, is what they called her, or at least what they refered her. to whenever they spoke of her as seeing the daughter of one of the most powerful men in all the land was a rare sight. Those who knew her, knew her from her time at school and those who didn’t merely gossiped about her. They knew what she was, an omega, the first omega born in a family of alphas who had ruled over the land for centuries. Her birth had been celebrated as a gift to fertility yet, the most desired omega in all of the land was yet to participate in one of the Spring Celebrations where omegas going through their first heat would be chased by eager alphas into the woods. Y/N absolutely hated the mere idea of being thrown around like a piece of meat for alphas to go after and she was thankful that as years went by no sign of a heat was yet to come. Servants at the mansion would comment maybe she was an infertile omega while some commented she was merely buying her time. However, despite all those comments and all those titles thrown at her by people who did not know her, one person did know the reason why the omega High Lady was kept apart from everyone else. That person was James Barnes, Bucky for short. He, like everyone who surrounded her was an Alpha yet his task was merely to look after her whenever she wanted to venture around, not that she enjoyed to be out of her little walls for long.

He was quiet, a far cry from how loud every Alpha she knew was yet in his quietness and lonely demeanor, he had a power that kept everyone else at arms’ length. He wasn’t a brashy young Alpha who couldn’t control his nature, no, his inner wolf was always restrained with just enough of a facade that kekpt everyone else away. No one dared defy James Barnes unless they wanted to be beat to a pulp. That reputation had earned him a reputation which led to the job he had occupied for the past 3 years, starting during her 20th birthday. It hadn’t taken him too long to grow attached to her and her little quirks. Yet again, he was an alpha and she was an omega so he guessed biology played a role in it. 

She herself wasn’t much of a outgoing omega, instead keeping to herself with her piles of books and flowers. However, recently, she was even more hidden from everybody, staying in her room covered by her blankets and vanilla candles and god blessed anyone who attempted to bother her. As the days went by, it became perfectly clear to everyone what was happening; the 23 year old omega was starting her heat. 

     - I don’t need to be coddled! - she snapped at Bucky as he stood by her side. He wasn’t closer than he usually was, actually, he was even trying to keep his distance. Despite his control, he knew how strong first heats were and he knew how easily they could trigger a rut even in the most experienced Alpha. However, he couldn’t help but find it amusing how irritableshe was. 

     - I’m sorry, m’lady. - he chuckled. 

     - You find it funny? - she crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side in a menancing manner; yet, she merely looked like an upset child in that ridiculous periwinkle dress. - I’m to be bait for horny alphas and you think it’s funny. 

    - You’re being overdramatic, you’re not going to be bait. Everybody does it.

    - You didn’t do it.

    - I’m not an Omega. 

    - You didn’t join the other alphas either. - she noted, continuing her distance from him. - It’s sexist!

    - No one is going to touch you if you don’t allow it. You can’t force a mating bond onto someone, m’lady.

    - Call me m’lady one more time. - she rolled her eyes. 

    - Sorry, Y/N. - he smiled and she couldn’t help but forgive him and he couldn’t help but not take it seriously. He knew she wasn’t sleeping, way too overwealmed by pre-heat and preparations for it. Just last night he’d seen her carrying more pillows into her bedroom along with a full supply of food. - You still remember how to mask your scent?

    - Yes. 

    - Then they won’t even be able to detect you. They’re young alphas and will go for the omegas whose scent is stronger, you’ll most likely spend the night by yourself. 

The two continued to walk past the meadows, her eyes never leaving the woods close to her childhood home where she was certain to be thrown into the next night. She wondered if Bucky was right and that would be enough. Maybe he was right about forcing mating bonds but she knew they could force something else ... she wasn’t naive. 

    - You’ll be okay. - he reassured, noticing how lost in thought she was. - I’d never let them harm you.

    - You think I’ll smell bad? - she changed the topic.

    - No. - he chuckled at her question. - Omegas always smell sweet. Haven’t meet an Omega who didn’t. 

    - Even the one you brought to your room last week? - he had unbelievable control but he was still an Alpha and a very desirable one. While he’d gotten used to having a few ruts every year, lately it appeared as every month he was going into ruts and after an Alpha goes into rut, well, they need to mate. He expected her not to have noticed, her room was very far removed from everyone else’s, standing in the highest floor, far removed from every Alpha and Beta in the house. Yet, he should’ve known how attentive she was, how observant, how no detail went unnoticed. 

   - I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.

   - You didn’t. - she didn’t look at him, continuing her walk around the gardens of the grounds she had grown up with. Roses of various colours were starting to bloom once again, creating a palette of soft hues which reminded her of soft spring paintings which hanged in the big halls of the old house. - They’re expecting me to find one, you know, a mate. They say they’re not but I know they are. 

   - Y/N ...

   - You could go. - she argued, the same thing she’d been trying to convince him for the past days. - If you go, no other Alpha will try to even go after me.

   - I’m too old for even participate in those things, besides you can take care off yourself. 

She decided not to rattle him, childish crushes set aside, she knew he could be the one to keep every other young and power hungry Alpha away from her but Bucky was a hard one to convice. He was in his mid thirties and despite his good looks, he remained unmated, mostly hanging around with Omegas and Betas whenever his ruts were particularly bad. Staff would tell her he probably had no mate due to his actions in the war years ago, but Y/N didn’t really believe them. Nevertheles, he remained set in stone in the idea of not even attending the event, always saying “An Omega’s first heat close is way too dangerous”. She’d always retort if it was dangerous then he should be the one to protect her, yet he shrugged it off. So, she was once again back in her own and as the hours passed faster and faster, she found herself staring at her own reflection dressed in white. The same features as her mother’s stared back at her, yet she was no Alpha woman and her own biology reminded her. Her skin was starting to boil hot, a reminder of what was yet to come. She hoped it wasn’t as bad, she hoped she could bathe in the river coursing through the woods for the evening.

She emerged from her house, walking up hill just to beginning of the the woods. Several other new omegas were around, much younger than her, eager to take this new step and find their omega. Y/N, on the other hand, felt like this was merely another joke from the world yelling in her face that she was an omega. She, the daughter of an Alpha leader, the lady who’d inherit all the estate including the woods, the High Lady of the North, was an omega. There was only one reason why they were excited about a heat, it meant she could produce children, alpha children to continue the bloodline. She was merely a dark weak branch in the tapestry of her family. Her eyes scanned the Alphas who were about to participate, no Bucky in sight. She didn’t know why she had hope he’d come. Part of her understood it was dangerous, after all Bucky was fresh out a rut, his rut having started around the time her pre heat started so it was no good to have him around. Nevertheless, she wanted him here. Her hands clutched the lotion Bucky had given him as she ran into the woods with the other omegas, their white dresses disappearing into the dark green. 

Bucky watched her from the crowd which had gathered to see the High Lady’s first attempt of a Spring cerimony. They clearly had nothing better to do, he thought to himself. How come her heat was that important? She was still a bright, intelligent woman who no question would well suceed her father as leader of the North court. 

     - You think she’ll come out mated? - one of the maids who’d come to see the spring cerimony asked.

     - Don’t think she wants to. - he commented, mostly out of politeness. The last thing he wanted was a rookie Alpha laying a claim on his omega. 

     - I surely hope so. We were so blessed when her pre-heat started so sudden 5 nights ago.

    - I thought it didn’t start up to 3 days ago. 

    - No, it was definetely 5 nights ago.

Shit.

Y/N continued to run through the woods, rubbing the lotion onto her scent glands in her wrists and junctures between the neck and shoulders. However, no matter how much her mind wanted to keep running, the heat was starting to overtake her and her legs were growing weaker and weaker until she tumbled onto the ground. Her head hit the ground, her eyes looking onto the stary sky as she heard the sounds of mating and footsteps. She just knew it was only a mere of time til someone found her and took her, but they only never be her alpha. No, it wasn’t the alpha she wanted. 

She clenched onto the locket which was the only relief against her own skin, praying she could gain some strength to get up and continue to run. She didn’t want this, she didn’t want any of the alphas she’d seen. They weren’t her alpha. They’re not alpha, her mind yelled at her. They’re not Bucky. 

The footsteps got louder and she reached for a sharp rock, preparing herself for whoever attempted to go after her. However, the person who emerged was someone who she had not expected. Standing away from her was Bucky, breath ragged and sweat covered forehead. Once his eyes set on her, his nostrils flared and he took a step back, faltering in his movements. 

    - Yo...you scared me. - she hiccuped, trying to move from the floor. 

    - Why aren’t you wearing the lotion, omega? - he’d never called her omega, he’d never dare to call his lady anything other than what she wished, yet Y/N couldn’t complain about being called omega by him.

    - I am. - ever the argumentative, she showed him the empty tin of lotion yet Bucky could still smell her, and how fucking sweet did she smell. - Bucky, I don’t feel good. 

     - Shit ... - he shut his eyes. Control yourself, he told himself over and over again, but her scent was just intoxicating. It filled every single sense, every crock of his brain, telling him to take her, to take his omega, the same omega that was laying on the ground. The omega whose mere pre-heat had trigged his rut.   

    - Bucky ... - she clenched her stomach. It was bad, very bad. Her skin felt like it was burning and her inner thighs were starting to get wet due to the slick which just kept appearing. She didn’t kknow what to do, no one had told her what a heat felt like, no one had told her how to calm down. Looking at Bucky only made it worse, her mind yelling at her to be near him but his eyes were clear, don’t get close. - Alpha, please. 

That name. Being called by his title by her of all people made him want to take her right there. No matter how hard he tried that’s all he could see in his head, making her feel better, knot her. 

    - It hurts. - she cried out. - I don’t know what to do.

She had heard from other maids who were omegas what to expect but she didn’t exactly know what to do. She was an omega in a family of Alphas; her father was an alpha, her mother was an alpha and so had their parents. She was the first omega to be born and it wasn’t her parents didn’t care about her they just didn’t know how to exactly raise an omega. It didn’t particularly help that she didn’t act like a stereotypical omega, or what an alpha family expected, so she was treated no different. Bucky also didn’t think her family talked much about mating; she was a high lady after all, the one who’d continue the family line. He wanted to help her, he really did but everytime he looked her, his inner wolf wanted nothing to but to lay his claim on her. 

His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of helping her clashing with doing what’s best for her. Bucky, an old alpha, definetely was not the best for her and he wasn’t fit to be the mate of the high lady, he wasn’t fit to be anyone’s alpha much less someone’s mate. 

    - I want it to stop. - she took him of his thoughts. In the absence of his attention, she’d managed to lean against a tree, her hands pulling at her dress, attempting to get some cold air.

    - Not gonna stop for three days. - his voice was lower and she couldn’t help but feel entranced by him. She’d never seen him like this, acting like a pure alpha whose voice dripped dominance. His eyes shut again as her smell surrounded him once more. God, why did she smell so good? 

    - Make it stop. - she begged him. Him, out of all alphas, some sons of high lords themselves and here he was, the lower of the lowest born alphas. - Alpha.

    - Don’t call me alpha. - he would lose it if she called him alpha even just one more time. He was barely keeping himself away from her, despite how much he wanted her. God, he wanted her. He’d always wanted her. The other alphas weren’t enough, no one would ever be enough for her. 

His mind race with ways to help her. He could always try to lead her out the woods through the other side and sneak her back into her nest so she could go through her heat away from any eager alphas; yet, he doubted she could walk much at this moment and carrying her was not an option, not when she’d be so close to him, her skin touching his would end it for him. Yet again, he’d rather be damned than not help his Y/N. He couldn’t bare having her go through this when she didn’t want to. She deserved better than this, she deserved all the choices that were offered to her ancestors, no matter what biology dictated. Bucky would rather watch the world burn than to let her go through this a second longer. 

With his mind set on taking her back to his bedroom, he told himself he could control himself. He was in his thirties, he’d had ruts before and he could conttrol himself. He took a deep breathe in before getting up and walking up to her. Her scent got stronger and stronger but his mind wanted her well, wanted her to be completely and fully happy. The alpha put his arms around her and picked her up, her legs dangling from the his arms. Intuitively, her nose rubbed against the scent gland on his neck. Her body slightly cooled down and she cuddled against him, happily surrounded by the scent of pinewood and ash dust. Despite her being much calmer, he himself could feel his blood boil. Her scent was starting to morph with his and all he could think about was her being absolutely owned by him. Yet, he had to keep those thoughts quiet. This was his lady after all and he owned her vasalage. 

The night had dawned in and the once familiar woods were dark, filled with noises he knew too well and the sound of the creek passing by. He held her close to him, attempting to make his way through the darkness and out of the woods. A sudden noise had him stopping in his tracks. She looked up at him, with those eyes which just screamed trust within him, and a feeling of overwhelming possesiveness took control of him. He held her tight against his chest as his eyes zoomed onto the figure which made their way straight at them. He knew him. He was the son of a lord ruling over the south and Bucky absolutely hated him. He’d heard way too much about the young alpha to want him to stay away from his omega. 

   - Evening, m’lady. - he looked at Y/N, completely ignoring Bucky. She rolled her eyes, gripping Bucky’s shirt as much she could. - Bought Barnes with you?

   - Move along, Michael. She’s not interested. 

   - I didn’t know you spoke for her now. - he took slow steps towards them, stalking them like a predator to a prey. - Unless you’re thinking about taking her just for yourself. 

   - Go away. - Y/N managed to speak through her heat, although even speaking made her uncomfortable. 

   - You stink, Barnes. - he snickered. - Yet again an omega in heat and an alpha in rut is never a good match is it?

   - It’s none of your business. 

   - If you change your mind m’lady, just let me know. - he winked at Y/N before disappearing into the greenery. 

Bucky’s eyes grew darker, his insticts taking more and more of his thought process. He wanted to hurt him for even daring looking into his omega’s way but her mewling had him back on his mission to take her back to her bedroom, back to her nest.

Y/N, however, had her eyes set on Bucky. Was he on his rut? He didn’t look like he was on a rut and she had grown up in an house of alphas. She knew what a rut looked like and she knew no omega wanted to be near an alpha in rut. But Bucky wasn’t acting domineering, he wasn’t angry, he wasn’t making advances, he was just stoic. Maybe she wasn’t enough of an omega for him, people always told her she wasn’t enough of an omega. She wasn’t enough for him. He probably looked at her like a silly rich omega and the mere thought of it made her heart ache.

   - What’s wrong? - he stepped outside the dense greenery, seeing her house in the horizon. 

   - Is Michael right? Are you on your rut? - Bucky was pensive for a while. He didn’t want to scare her but he also didn’t want to lie to her. - I thought your rut was finished.

   - Got triggered. - he replied. - I’m not gonna hurt you, I’d never hurt you.

   - Does it hurt? 

   - Not my first rut, sweetheart. 

   - Is it because I’m not a good omega? - he snapped his head towards her harshly. No, his mind yelled out, you’re my omega how could you not be the only thing in this whole world which was good and bright. - Am I just not enough?

   - What are you talking about, sweetheart? You’re being delirious.

   - I know how alphas act around omegas, any omega. - he grip grew loose on his shirt as she looked down, unable to look at him. - Am I just ... not enough?

   - Y/N ...

   - You don’t need to sugar coat it for me. Nobody wants me. My parents didn’t want an omega, no one wants me to rule and not even the type of person biology dictated would want me wants me. 

   - You think I don’t want you? - his eyes grew dark, the baby blues replaced by dark blue all consuming. - You’re all I fucking think about ever since I met you. Ruts without you are a fucking nightmare because all I keep thinking is to find you and mate you. You’re my only omega. 

   - Then why won’t you mate me?

   - I’m not good enough for you. 

   - You’re my alpha. It hurts whenever you bring another omega to your room because all I want to do is be your omega and now, now you’re pushing me away. You don’t want me just like everybody else.

   - Don’t you dare say that. - ever. - Don’t you dare ever tell me I don’t want you.

   - Then do something about it.

She was just being defiant now, a sparky little omega. One of the many qualities which he adored about her; yet again he loved everything about her. He knew she was his omega, she had triggered his rut way too easily and based on the timing of his last rut and her pre-heat it wasn’t stupid to assume he’d triggered hers. Nevertheless, he was not the right person for her. She already had a tough time trying to get people to take her seriously as high lady, if she sported his mark on her lovely neck, it’d only make it harder. He wasn’t a particularly good partner to have, much less for a high lady. Nevertheless, those words stroke a chord on him. How dare she think she was not enough? Looking back at her, he could see it clear as day, the heartbreak scetched onto her lovely features. His instincts finally got the upper hand over his better consciousness and suddenly his lips were on hers. Strawberry laced flavours had him growling for more, for her body yearning for him and then the innocent kiss started to descend as he tasted her skin. 

His touch was soft and rough at the same time yet all she could think of was of him, having him. Her alpha. Her skin grew hot and cold in waves, his touch alone making slick run down her legs. 

   - You want this, omega? - he nipped at her scent gland in her neck. - You gotta tell me.

   - Please, Alpha. 

She leet out a small moan as he pushed her dress up, his fingers wandering close to her core as his lips kissed her skin leisurely. She wanted him, she wanted him so badly. His knee lodged between her legs, close to her pulsating core as he laid her down on the grass. She looked tempting, like a gift wrapped in white tafeta. How could he say no to her? How could he say no to his omega? He looked at her with lust filled eyes, head cocked to the side before leaning down to place a slow kiss on her lips, his hand massaging her breast, thumb teasingly rubbing her pebbled nipple.

His other hand replaced the pressure from his knee against her core, finger separating her folds as he started to circle her clit, his kiss silencing all her slow and earning moans. Her nails digged on his shoulders as she attempted to mutter a faster between his long kisses.

   - Shush princess, alpha is going to make you feel all better. - his voice was low, almost mocking how yearning she was. 

   - I want you inside of me, please.

   - You don’t need to beg, omega mine. I’m all yours. 

His hand moved to hold her waist as he aligned his cock with her entrance. His eyes searched for hers, wanting to look at her before he did it yet as he looked into her eyes all he found was love and trust. Someone loved and trusted him. His omega loved and trust him and that was all he could ever want. He leaned in to kiss her again before fully slipping inside of her. He went slowly, watching the way her face contorted with pleasure just for him, listening to her little moans before he was fully sheathed inside of her. The two moaned in unison and he stilled, looking for any sign of discomfort in her face.

   - Move, alpha. Move. - she begged, nails dragging up and down his shoulders. 

   - Whatever you want, sweetheart. - he leaned to kiss her again as he started to move in and out of her. She moaned out a breathy moan, hands holding onto him as he moved to kiss her neck, her scent making him drunk with pleasure. 

She was filled with him and all that yearning only seemed to heighten everytime he moved. He was her alpha and she was happy being filled by him, being his. He nipped at her neck, continuing his movements so he could hear all those lovely moans. God, he was drunk on it, her scent and her moans. He moved his hand to feel himself against her stomach. God, she looked pretty, so owned. Those waves of heat were back again as she started to clench around his cock. His movements quickened as he let out a groan against her skin, his thrusts were no longer controlled and merely looking for release until she let out a high pitched moan. 

   - Fuck, omega. - he growled, before biting her skin as ropes and ropes of white painted her walls. His knot inflated, keeping them connected. He didn’t think he’d be able to ever leave her. - Fuck, Y/N, I’m sorry.

   - You marked me. - she looked at him playfully, kissing down his jaw. - You’re stuck with me. 

   - I think it’s the other way around, m’lady.

   - High Lord James Barnes, it has a ring to it. 

   - Don’t say that. - he hide in the space between her neck and shoulder, licking the fresh mark on her neck. - I should take you back to your nest, sweetheart.

   - You’re joining me right?

   - A heat is three days, omega. We’re going to have fun. 

taglist: @kitty4860​

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Fine Line (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: hey. Friends to lovers (the only trope i respect) You’re about to marry someone else, a prince from another village in an attempt to save relations with said village, only kakashi stands in the way of that, and everyone knows. 

Also, i know kakashi would never do this in reality, but gosh is it romantic to imagine

Word count: 5400

“Y/N, you really need to sleep,” Kakashi sighed, leaning on his fist which sat on the thin, flimsy armchair beside her bed.

She hadn’t slept properly for weeks now, day after day only falling asleep at random hours of the day, naps in the afternoon and a half hour of shut eye in the early morning. She ate sporadically, and her schedule had admittedly started to interfere with her friend’s. Kakashi found himself in her apartment, awake the majority of the nights trying to calm her down. 

But nothing was going to help this situation. Tsunade had decided already, after Y/N had hesistantly agreed. It wasn't as if this marriage was forced, but it certainly wasn’t ideal.

The woman never really imagined herself marrying at all, but if she had, she always dreamed it would be out of love for the other person, someone who would match her perfectly like a puzzle piece, essentially, someone who would complete her. 

Instead, she had been hastily shoved into an arranged marriage with a man she and Kakashi guarded on one of their missions. He was the wealthy crown prince in the Land of Frost. He was kind enough, and he respected her wishes when it came to the proposal, giving Y/N a month to decide whether she was ready to be wed to such a man.

He promised her the entire world. Jewels, clothes, children, a palace in which to live the rest of her days, anything she could possibly need he would have servants at her beck and call.

It hadn’t seemed like the worst idea at all, and Y/N shortly considered it. It wasn’t until Tsunade heard about it that things became serious. 

The relationship between the two lands was falling apart, and this was a last resort, she had said. It wouldn’t mean she could never see her friends again but meetings would be scarce, and she was positive he wouldn't let her train and go on the occasional, non-dangerous mission. It would be as if she were abandoning her entire life, she realized as the weeks passed after the engagement was set. 

And so the letter was sent back to the Land of Frost, and abruptly, Y/N L/N found herself engaged to be married in 3 months time. It seemed surreal, only having 90 days practically, to enjoy her normal life and prepare for an entirely new world. She hadn’t known anything else other than the way of shinobi, nor had she adjusted to other cultures. The Leaf was her home, and the thought of leaving it broke her heart.

For the first time in her life, it seemed she was petrified. Sure, there were times when she felt like everything was set up against her, that the enemy might win, but she hadn’t felt so hopeless and lost either. There always seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Not this time. 

“Please, just finish your tea and rest. You’re wasting away,“ he told her again, whispering in a soft tone only the two of them could hear. She was in the medical ward for the night, low blood sugar bringing her in this time. The dangerous combo of not sleeping or eating had set her body into a panic. She was so weak.

As she sipped the tea she sighed, feeling that sting of warmth run down her throat and bring some feeling to her empty, weak stomach. She couldn’t look at the man sitting beside her, it would only bring her pain, she decided. How could she face him? She was leaving him after all this time. 

It had been decades since they were apart for longer than the standard mission time. He was always there right alongside her. They grew up on the same street in the same complex. They attended the academy together, fought in the war side by side, travelled the world as jounin just trying to make their way through the twists and turns of village politics. She felt like shit having to leave him behind. It wasn’t like her new husband was going to let her have weekly visits to her old friend, a man who was closer than anyone else she knew. It wasn’t plausible. 

Slowly, she had realized that one day would be the last day she could hug Kakashi, that she could look up to him and hear his calm tone telling her it would all be okay, that he would never leave her behind, that he would always be there to protect her as long as she did the same for him. It wasn’t going to be like that anymore, and it often brought tears to her eyes in the late of night in her apartment, tears saturating her pillows and face swelling from the suffocated sobs. One day would be the last time she saw him, and it just hurt so badly. At times she found herself gasping for air, so terrified she couldn't find breath..

So, no, Y/N couldn't bring herself to face Kakashi. Maybe if she distanced herself little by little as the few months went on, it would be easier leaving. Leaving everyone behind. Kakashi, Gai, Kurenai, all the students she had grown to care about over the years. To spend her last days avoiding the people she would miss so dearly seemed like a waste of time and irrational, but it was the only thing that seemed reasonable in her confused mind.

“I can’t,” she replied softly, setting her mug down on the table to the other side of her bed. “How do you expect me to sleep?”

He shook his head in disapproval, his arms crossed over his chest as he leant back in his chair. He replied, “I don’t know. Just close your eyes and it’s bound to happen. You could at least try.” His suggestion was pretty useless, and he knew that. Hell, the amount of times he stayed awake when she begged him to sleep, he should have known he wasn’t going to get anywhere.

“And if I don’t want to?” 

He sighed, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, as he muttered, “What is your prince going to say when he sees you with black eye bags and cheeks sunken in?” He felt disgusted, hearing those words leave his mouth. Not only was she to be married to someone she barely knew, but she had to impress him. She had to change herself to fit his narrative of a woman, stereotypically beautiful, effortless yet hard working at the same time. He felt sick to his stomach thinking about that prince, and the ploy Tsunade had put up in the way of arranging them together.

Absolutely sickened.

She peered over at him and frowned. “Between you and me, I don’t give a fuck what that guy thinks,” she whispered, her eyes resting on the doorway to make sure no late night nurses were walking through. “I wish he would take one look at me and break the engagement himself.”

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N.” His eyes now drawn on her, watching as she took another long sip of her tea, which he now suspected was spiked with something Gai had given her on his way out, something to numb the pain she was feeling. It burned her throat so good, and dulled her mind just enough to ease her. The Green Beast understood her desire to help the village, but he also sided with Kakashi in that she could change her mind at any point in time. 

Even Gai knew she wasn’t happy, everyone fucking knew.

“Oh, but I do, Kakashi. I don’t really have a choice at this point.”

“You do. Don’t let a spoiled prince take away your happiness,” he argued, his face turned just the slightest shade of red at his frustration. He wanted to wring this prince by the neck for what he had done, for the tough situation Y/N was put in. Either save the relationship between two nations or be selfish and do nothing. “Please, Y/N.”

A part of him liked to believe that his begging was simply to save his friend from a horrible fate, that he was just doing what a normal person would do and defend someone who seemed so helpless, only that wasn’t it. It was never that in the first place. He wouldn’t have been the one to fall apart in Tsunade’s office when she told him that the pair were engaged, screaming profanities at the Hokage who only looked up at him with pity in her eyes. And he certainly wouldn’t have run all the way across the village to her apartment and bang on the door until she opened. He wouldn’t have left her room that night with a tear about to fall from his eye, and vomit coming up in his throat. He wouldn’t have thrown up in the middle of the street that night. Not if he was simply protecting a friend.

He knew that the reason this hurt him so badly is because he loved her. He always knew there was something there, but there was never any reason to act on his feelings. They had all the time in the world it seemed, just the two of them soldiering on in this boring life. Telling her how he felt, how much he wanted her...that wouldn’t have changed a thing between them other than made things just that much more difficult.

Now, Kakashi found himself regretting everything. If only he had said something before, maybe she could have stayed here in the Leaf with him, and all her other friends who had become her family over these decades of struggling together. If only he had stepped up and been brave. He never faltered in the face of fear; why did it have to be the only time he did that screwed him over.

“Kakashi, I can’t go back on the engagement. It would cause us to lose one of our greatest allies,” she told him calmly, but her heart was once again beating too fast for comfort. She found herself falling into that downward spiral of hopelessness once again. She looked over at him with a quiver in her lip and tears bubbling up at her waterline, words softly leaving her mouth, so quiet he almost missed it. “I was fitted for a wedding gown two days ago. I-It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He asked me to pick what flowers I want at the ceremony.”

“Ah, I see.”

“All I wanted to say was wilted fucking roses, thorns and all. Weeds and empty branches.”

“Just run away if you have to, run for long enough that he forgets about you,” Kakashi suggested, a bit of plea in his voice for her to listen to anything, anything that would get her away from that man, this horrible fate. “You don’t need to do this. Tsunade can make it work.”

“Kakashi.” Y/N paused, biting her lip. Her head was beginning to buzz from the tea she was drinking, one in which Gai added more than a bit of sake to numb the pain. Something the nurses at this godforsaken hospital refused to give her. She gazed over at him with a glaze over her eyes, her cheeks draining of any last bit of color she had in them.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to marry him,” she confessed, that much was obvious. “I wish I was marrying you instead.”

“Y/N-”

“I’ve never even looked at someone twice because of you. I’ve only ever wanted you, for fuck’s sake.” she bit out harshly, her voice raising with every word. Her eyes were trailed painfully on his own, glaring fire into him. "All these years, all these long, painful years, it's always been you, Hatake."

Just as he was about to say something in response, she had leaned over and pushed him away from her. He opened his mouth to get out a word, but nothing came out. Her angry shouts filled his ears, and he found himself falling. He stood from his chair and backed away from her bed.

“Just get out, Kakashi. It doesn’t matter how the fuck I feel anymore. I should have never said anything. At this point, I'm just tormenting myself. Just get out,” she hissed. “Get out, get out, get out.” Her shouts were painful to hear, but he understood. He wasn’t angry, unlike the girl with the overwhelming emotions bubbling out from the ears. His heart raced at her words, at the rushing emotions flowing through his veins.

He walked out the door without saying goodbye, just hearing her crying behind him while he pushed open the cracked door. As he shut the door behind him, he noticed a particular pink haired girl standing against the wall. She stared at him in shock, having heard the outbursts from the woman in the room who she was just about to check up on to make sure vitals were okay. She heard the confession, and she heard the subsequent backlash. She heard the parts about Y/N not wanting to marry the prince as well. 

It wasn’t exactly well known that she resented the engagement, but it was fairly obvious if you spent enough time with the kunoichi, which Sakura surely did being a medical nin.

“Sensei, are you okay?”

“Yes, Sakura, I’m fine,” he breathed, finding himself at a loss for words and lungs utterly useless.

Sakura grabbed onto his arm, peering up at him with just an ounce of determination in her eyes. “You need to convince Y/N-sensei to break the engagement.”

“I know.”

“Did you talk to Lady Tsunade.”

“She won’t listen to me.”

“Then I’ll try to talk to her too. She's not a cruel woman, but she is set on this engagement. She believes it will unite the two villages for hundreds of years. Y/N is one of our best and brightest after all.” Sakura told the man in the darkness of the hospital halls, her soft voice echoing on white walls. “I know it doesn’t seem like things will work out, and maybe Lady Tsunade won't listen. But you have to convince Y/N to stand up for herself."

He nodded, but it felt hopeless even pretending that things would change.

“You two were meant for each other. You can’t just give up on that now.”

And with that, he left down the hall, waving goodbye to his student. He didn’t know  how exactly he was going to do this, work out this mess in his favor, but it was worth a shot trying. If he didn’t, it would mean losing the love of his life. He couldn’t lose anyone else, not this time. 

Please, just not this time.

________________________

Despite being dressed in all white, Y/N felt anything but pure. She had been dolled up the entire morning by her friends and the young girls of the village. Ino, Hinata and her sister, and a handmaiden sent from the Land of the Frost to prepare her for her wedding that day. Her dress was embroidered with small snowflakes and wisps of silver and baby blue details. 

Already she felt as if she were being taken from her village and her heritage with all this decoration from the other land. Not to mention she would be married off somewhere foreign and cold, alone without the comfort of her family and friends here in the Leaf. The only people to be escorting her to the other village would be the handmaid, a couple guards from the Frost, and Kakashi.

Her final request was allowing him to come with her just for the wedding. And maybe it was cruel, to have him there as both their hopes for a happy ending dissolve, but she needed him. There was no way she would make it through the wedding without him standing to the side supporting her, even if the support was purely obligatory.

She never said anything to Tsunade, in fear of being rejected or patronized for changing her mind. Instead. She just waited for the fateful day.

Y/N stood at the gates,  arms crossed over her chest as she stared out into the woods, a white and silver carriage sitting before her with 3 horses standing tall ahead. This was the life waiting for her across the boundary, in the faraway land she would never recognize as home. It would be her last day in the village for a long time, at least until she was allowed to leave. Still, her life wouldn’t be the same ever again. She never dreamed of living in a world where she was forced to be a housewife, alone in a giant house without her companions, without the rush of the hunt on missions, without feeling the chakra flowing thickly through her veins.

She’d said her goodbyes. Cleared out her apartment, leaving the majority of her belongings behind with friends and family. She wouldn’t be needing it where she was going. 

“Kakashi?” she asked softly, peering over her shoulder at the man leaning against the gate, a book in his hand, the other tucked into his pocket. He wore nice clothing. Better than usual, at least. He wasn’t an honored guest, honestly, he wasn’t truly invited, she was just bringing him along upon her own stubbornness. He looked nice, dressed up like he cared today. 

He lifted his eyes and hummed in reply, obviously lost in his own thoughts as well.

“I feel like I should have stayed longer in the village, to say goodbye. Our friends...Gai and all our students, Iruka...I feel like I'm just abandoning them,” she told him. “I just don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye. I guess I just don’t know how to say goodbye, a real goodbye. I’ve never felt like this- like I need to put so much thought behind a farewell because honestly, I’ve never felt like it would be my last one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I have never intentionally left someone knowing that I’ll never see them again. It fucking sucks that I’m standing here knowing I’ll never see you guys again after this. I can’t accept it like that though. I keep thinking that after this is all over life will be back to normal, but it won’t.”

“I know. We should have tried harder to get you out of this mess. I could have said something-”

“It’s not your fault. I-I shouldn’t have agreed in the first place. I only agreed because I didn’t think I had a chance with you, so what would it matter leaving to be with someone else,” she blurted out, her truths coming out in heavy waves, “It would make me less lonely, I thought, even though it’s clearly done the opposite. I’ve never felt more impending loneliness than I do now.”

He sighed, shutting his book and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. It was like him to bring his romance novellas on a trip like this. She wanted to smile at his hobby, but her heart felt too heavy in her chest to even lift her lips. “I’ll see you again, Y/N. One day, I’ll get the chance to go back there and see you, as long as you let me in.”

“I don’t want it to just be one day,” she cried, throwing her arms down at her sides. She felt gross in these dreary robes, too decorated for her tastes altogether. “I want to see you everyday. I never want to go another day without you by my side. Jesus, this whole situation is just sick.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and furrowed his brow. “Keep quiet. You’re gonna make a scene, Y/N.”

“I just can’t be quiet about this. Don’t you understand how I’m feeling? Aren’t you going to miss me too?” The woman asked, feeling her hands begin to sweat as she clenched them over and over. She stared at him, right into his exposed eye, her breaths becoming shallower with every passing moment. Panic creeped up her neck so quickly, smothering her thoughts, rationale flying out the window.

“Of course I will, L/N. That’s a stupid question, and you know it. I’m just trying not to get caught fraternizing with a future queen, yeah?” he mumbled, his voice hushed. "Just calm down. You're getting pale." He wanted to reach down and run his hands along her arms, smooth over her shoulders for just a bit of comfort, but he refrained. He didn't want to touch her in front of wandering eyes, the eyes of any Frost people.

After scanning the area, she grabbed a hold of his wrist, her fingers firm with no intention of letting go. “We need to leave. You and me, we can get out of here.”

“What?” He could only ask, completely stunned at her suggestion. 

“Remember what you told me in the hospital. You told me to run away. We run away from here now, for as long as it takes for the prince to give up on me.” How scandalous, he thought. He couldn’t possibly just take the bride and run, could he? He hadn’t even pondered that route in his nightly daydreaming before bed, tossing and turning trying to think of a way to save his friend from the depths of whatever this prince had to offer. 

“Y/N, I meant just you. I-I can’t just go against Lady Tsunade like that-”

“Kakashi Hatake, you’re my best friend, but more importantly, I’m in love with you. If I’m not wrong, the feeling is mutual. If that doesn’t make you want to run away together then I call cowardice,” she said boldly, her eyes never once leaving his own. “Come on, we don’t have the time for this.”

This could ruin him, he knew that full well. But there was just something about this woman he couldn’t let slip from his grasp. His entire world fell into her hands. When he felt that inevitable tug on his arm, pulling him into the familiar woods before them, he found himself following without a single restraint. The only thing he felt was his heart racing in his chest, bursting with an adrenaline he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

They pushed through the forest for as long as she could run, tripping over branches and roots along the way, but never losing grip of each other. Her blood pulsed through her veins, and honestly, she had never felt more alive. Her entire life she found herself bowing down to those superior to her, listening to each word they say and meeting their every beck and call. She accepted a proposal she desperately wanted to decline solely to please the Hokage, one of the worst mistakes of all because she needed to obey. 

It felt so fucking good to break the rules, to be disobedient for once in her sorry life. 

Finally, after running for what seemed like miles, she finally slowed to a stop next to a particularly large tree. Her palms pressed against the rough bark, wood chips digging into her calloused hands. He slowed to a stop beside her and watched silently as she caught her breath, her chest rising and falling under the thick robes she wore. 

“These shoes sure as hell aren’t made for running,” she mumbled, looking down at the pathetic slippers they’d given her. “I think we are far enough away that we can sit and talk for a little bit.”

“Yeah, you wanna talk about how you committed treason.”

“You did, too. Don’t blame this all on me.”

“You were the one with all your “cowardice” and “love” crap. God, this entire thing feels like it’d come out of one of Master Jiraiya's novels.”

She took a seat on the ground, not caring if the dirt stained her robes. Why would she care? She was dead either way. If Tsunade ever laid eyes on her again, Y/N knew she’d be a goner. That woman would kill with no hesitation, she was convinced of it. Y/N’s eyes trailed back up to her the man, and she could only groan. “Listen I know there were definitely better ways of doing this, but I’m not the sharpest kunai in the box. I was just doing what my feral instincts were telling me to do. You were the one who just followed after me like a lost puppy.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out, “What was I supposed to do? Think rationally? You’ve got my brain turned to mush half the damn time; what do you want from me?”

“Don’t worry, you’re literally Tsunade’s best ninja- She’ll let you back into the village.”

“You’re not that bad yourself-”

“Yeah, that’s why she tried to pawn me off to the Land of Frost to be a stay-at-home mom. Things aren’t lining up, Kakashi.”

He sighed, finally deciding to take a seat beside her against the tree trunk. He leant his head against the wood, his eyes peering up into the trees. Things had taken a wild turn, that’s for sure. He really did feel like he was in one of his romantic drama, the only thing missing was the R-rated content-Not that that was what he was thinking about, of course not…

 How the story would end, he didn’t really know. 

“Well, what’s done is done. Whether it was a bad decision or not.”

“I really didn’t think this through.”

“Nope.”

She turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed deeply, frustrated with this entire thing. “Kakashi, I did this because of you. Because of what we have going on between us. Did you want me to be married off to that pig of a prince?” she questioned.

“No.”

 She nodded at his answer and leaned back in her spot. Her arms worked their way to being crossed over her chest, and she couldn’t look him in the eyes at this point, her sight set on a particular mushroom a few yards away. Her words were curt, if not awkward, “Speaking of which, we need to discuss what we are or how we feel or whatever.”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Not really. I mean, I’ve told you how I feel already, but um, you haven’t said a thing.”

“But you clearly know.”

She shook her head, a bit of heat rising up her cheeks and ears. “Doesn’t matter. I gotta hear you say it, for real.” 

Kakashi let his eyes wander over to the woman, who sat there like a child with her arms crossed and her eyes tucked away somewhere else. He almost wanted to laugh. She reminded him of a student at times with her bashfulness. It was definitely one of the many things he liked about her. “What? Do you want me to tell you I love you, or something?”

“Yes, that would be nice after all the trouble I’ve been through for you.”

He chuckled that time. Of course, all the trouble…”Y/N, I guess I love you. I guess I spent all these years ignoring my feelings, and it took this whole arranged marriage thing to make me realize I was missing out on a really good thing,” he confessed, voice softer than usual. “When you told me in the hospital, riding out your buzz from the spiked tea Gai gave you, that you wished you were marrying me instead, I just knew I had to have you. Truly though, I knew on our first meeting that I wanted you.”

“I was such a clumsy idiot back then. I think I’ve matured a lot since then, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, you’re still a clumsy idiot, just one with great ninjutsu.”

“Hey!”

"All I know is that I loved the feeling of falling in love with you. How good it made me feel. I was more worried about you than ever before, but every time you smiled and said hello, anything you did really, started to make my days better and better,” he continued, “This life has been cold and harsh to me, but you just swooped in and made it worth something.”

She felt her heart beat faster in her chest hearing that, a warmth growing in her stomach as she scooted closer to him, inch by inch. He clearly didn’t take notice or mind, so she pressed her side to his, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. She felt ridiculous in these heavy ginormous robes, too bulky to move properly. She dropped her head on his shoulder gently, and felt him relax into her touch.

“I love you so much it hurts. My hands are shaking because of all the love that’s overflowing,” she told him with a sheepish grin, holding up her hand so he could indeed see that her hand was vibrating. He clasped her hand in his own and lowered them to his lap. His thumb ran over her knuckles in soft strokes, and she melted into the gentle touch of the man she cared so deeply for. 

“I’m glad I ran away with you.”

“Me too.”

________________________________

It had been about 3 days before someone found them wandering in a nearby village. It was only a matter of time before they were found and brought back to the Leaf, anyway, so no surprise to them there. It was exciting having a few days without responsibilities, just living almost as if they were civilians in love. 

People in the village stared as the pair walked through the streets of the town, whispers being heard and looks shared. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew about the Copy-nin and his battered bride companion being escorted into Konoha.

Tsunade was in her office waiting for them to arrive. The door shut behind them, and Y/N wished someone was there to witness the Hokage murder them, only, the fatal blow never came. Instead, calm words reached their ears.

“I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m really not.”

“Lady Tsunade, let me explain what happened-” Y/N started to say, but she was quickly interrupted.

“I really don’t need to hear the details of your 3 day sex-capade,” she dismissed, a look of disgust crossing her face. Y/N’s face morphed into that of pure horror, the thought of the Hokage and everyone in the village that knew they ran away assuming that’s what they’d been doing. It was humiliating, to say the least. She didn’t have time to process the fact before the Hokage spoke again, “I’m mad because you two essentially committed treason, but thankfully, the prince didn’t have any complaints. He apparently saw a psychic the day of the wedding who told him that his marriage was cursed for eternity, and was ready to call off the entire thing. Superstitious bastard.”

“So, the Land of the Frost and the Leaf are still allies?” Kakashi asked.

“Yes, fortunately," the Hokage stated simply. She lifted her eyes to the younger woman, and the exasperation was obvious in her appearance as well as tone. The girl in question nervously rubbed her forearm, embarrassed beyond belief. It was one thing getting screamed at, but it was another to be scolded like a child. "Y/N, if you wanted to break the arrangement, you should have just told me. I could have worked it out somehow. There was no need for all this drama.”

She bit her lip, not knowing what to say. She really should have said something before, but she was foolish. “I know, but I didn’t want to disappoint you," the woman mumbled awkwardly.

“Well, you did.” Ouch, so blunt.

“I know.”

She nodded, clearly having said what needed to be said. Her eyes dipped back down to her paperwork. The air wasn't nearly as heavy as when the pair first walked in, and Y/N finally felt air fill her lungs once again. Her nerves had really been for nothing, thankfully. 

“Very well, you two are dismissed. Don't go around pulling shit like this again, or I’ll see to it that you actually receive punishment.”

The doors shut behind them, and Y/N let a smile grow on her cheeks. She turned to the man at her side, her smile only growing that much more at the sight of his handsome face. “Things sure worked out for me. I didn’t get in trouble for my crimes, and I have a boyfriend now,” she gleamed.

He smirked, rolling his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky. You still have to deal with Gai.”

“I’m not prepared for the amount of hugs I am about to receive.”

“Neither am I.”

And as they heard those oh-so familiar, loud footsteps rushing up the stairs of the Hokage Tower, they knew they were in for it. 

"Kakashi! Y/N! I heard the joyous news of your return!"

Oh, boy.

[paenling]

no ones saying you cant enjoy daniil? people like him as a character but mostly Because he’s an asshole and he’s interesting. the racism and themes of colonization in patho are so blatant

nobody said “by order of Law you are forbidden from enjoying daniil dankovsky in any capacity”, but they did say “if you like daniil dankovsky you are abnormal, problematic, and you should be ashamed of yourself”, so i’d call that an implicit discouragement at the least. not very kind.

regardless, he is a very interesting asshole and we love to make fun of him! but i do not plan to stop seeing his character in an empathetic light when appropriate to do so. we’re all terribly human.

regarding “the racism and themes of colonization in patho”, we’ve gotta have a sit-down for this one because it’s long and difficult. tl;dr here.

i’ve written myself all back and forth and in every direction trying to properly pin down the way i feel about this in a way that is both logically coherent and emotionally honest, but it’s not really working. i debated even responding at all, but i do feel like there are some things worth saying so i’m just going to write a bunch of words, pick a god, and pray it makes some modicum of sense.

the short version: pathologic 2 is a flawed masterwork which i love deeply, but its attempts to be esoteric and challenging have in some ways backfired when it comes to topical discussions such as those surrounding race, which the first game didn’t give its due diligence, and the second game attempted with incomplete success despite its best efforts.

the issue is that when you have a game that is so niche and has these “elevated themes” and draws from all this kind of academic highbrow source material -- the fandom is small, but the fandom consists of people who want to analyze, pathologize, and dissect things as much as possible. so let’s do that.

first: what exactly is racist or colonialist in pathologic? i’m legitimately asking. people at home: by what mechanism does pathologic-the-game inflict racist harm on real people? the fact that the Kin are aesthetically and linguistically inspired by the real-world Buryat people (& adjacent groups) is a potential red flag, but as far as i can tell there’s never any value judgement made about either the fictionalized Kin or the real-world Buryat. the fictional culture is esoteric to the player -- intended to be that way, in fact -- but that’s not an inherently bad thing. it’s a closed practice and they’re minding their business.

does it run the risk of being insensitive with sufficiently aggressive readings? absolutely, but i don’t think that’s racist by itself. they’re just portrayed as a society of human beings (and some magical ones, if you like) that has flaws and incongruences just as the Town does. it’s not idealizing or infantilizing these people, but by no means does it go out of its way to villainize them either. there is no malice in this depiction of the Kin. 

is it the fact that characters within both pathologic 1 & 2 are racist? that the player can choose to say racist things when inhabiting those characters? no, because pathologic-the-game doesn’t endorse those things. they’re throwaway characterization lines for assholes. acknowledging that racism exists does not make a media racist. see more here.

however, i find it’s very important to take a moment and divorce the racial discussions in a game like pathologic 2 from the very specific experiences of irl western (particularly american) racism. it’s understandable for such a large chunk of the english-speaking audience to read it that way; it makes sense, but that doesn’t mean it’s correct. although it acknowledges the relevant history to some extent, on account of being set in 1915, pathologic 2 is not intended to be a commentary about race, and especially not current events, and especially especially not current events in america. it’s therefore unfair, in my opinion, to attempt to diagnose it with any concrete ideology or apply its messages to an american racial paradigm.

it definitely still deals with race, but it always, to me, seemed to come back around the exploitation of race as an ultimately arbitrary division of human beings, and the story always strove to be about human beings far more than it was ever about race. does it approach this topic perfectly? no, but it’s clearly making an effort. should we be aware of where it fails to do right by the topic? yes, definitely, but we should also be charitable in our interpretations of what the writers were actually aiming for, rather than reactionarily deeming them unacceptable and leaving it at that. do we really think the writers for pathologic 2 sat down and said “we’re going to go out of our way to be horrible racists today”? i don’t.

IPL’s writing team is a talented lot, and dybowski as lead writer has the kinds of big ideas that elevate a game to a work of art, particularly because he’s not afraid to get personal. on that front, some discussion is inescapable as pathologic 2 deals in a lot of racial and cultural strife, because it’s clearly something near to the his heart, but as i understand it was never really meant to be a narrative “about” race, at least not exclusively so, and especially not in the same sense as the issue is understood by the average American gamer. society isn't a monolith and the contexts are gonna change massively between different cultures who have had, historically, much different relationships with these concepts.

these themes are “so blatant” in pathologic 2 because clearly, on some level, IPL wanted to start a discussion. I think it’s obvious that they wanted to make the audience uncomfortable with the choices they were faced with and the characters they had to inhabit -- invoke a little ostranenie, as it were, and force an emotional breaking point. in the end the game started a conversation and i think that’s something that was done in earnest, despite its moments of obvious clumsiness. 

regarding colonialism, this is another thing that the game is just Not About. we see the effects and consequences of colonialism demonstrated in the world of pathologic, and it’s something we’re certainly asked to think about from time to time, but the actual plot/narrative of the game is not about overcoming or confronting explicitly colonialist constructs, etc. i personally regard this as a bit of a missed opportunity, but it’s just not what IPL was going for.

instead they have a huge focus, as discussed somewhat in response to this ask, on the broader idea of powerful people trying to create a “utopia” at the mortal cost of those they disempower, which is almost always topical as far as i’m concerned, and also very Russian.

i think there was some interview where it was said that the second game was much more about “a mechanism that transforms human nature” than the costs of utopia, but it’s still a persistent enough theme to be worth talking about both as an abstraction of colonialism as well as in its more-likely intended context through the lens of wealth inequality, environmental destruction & government corruption as universal human issues faced by the marginalized classes. i think both are important and intelligent readings of the text, and both are worth discussion.

both endings of pathologic 2 involve sacrifice in the name of an “ideal world” where it’s impossible to ever be fully satisfied. in the Diurnal Ending, Artemy is tormented over the fate of the Kin and the euthanasia of his dying god and all her miracles, but he needs to have faith that the children he’s protected will grow up better than their parents and create a world where he and his culture will be immortalized in love. in the Nocturnal Ending, he’s horrified because in preserving the miracle-bound legacy of his people as a collective, he’s un-personed himself to the individuals he loves, but he needs to have faith that the uniqueness and magic of the resurrected Earth was precious enough to be worth that sacrifice. neither ending is fair. it’s not fair that he can’t have both, but that’s the idea. because that “utopia” everyone’s been chasing is an idol that distracts from the important work of being a human being and doing your best in a flawed world. 

because pathologic’s themes as a series are so very “Russian turn-of-the-century” and draw a ton of stylistic and topical inspiration from the theatre and literature of that era, i don’t doubt that it’s also inherited some of its inspirational literature’s missteps. however, because the game’s intertextuality is so incredibly dense it’s difficult to construct a super cohesive picture of its actual messaging. a lot of its references and themes will absolutely go over your head if you enter unprepared -- this was true for me, and it ended up taking several passes and a bunch of research to even begin appreciating the breadth of its influences.

(i’d argue this is ultimately a good thing; i would never have gone and picked up Camus or Strugatsky, or even known who Antonin Artaud was at all if i hadn’t gone in with pathologic! my understanding is still woefully incomplete and it’s probably going to take me a lot more effort to get properly fluent in the ideology of the story, but that’s the joy of it, i think. :) i’m very lucky to be able to pursue it in this way.)

anyway yes, pathologic 2 is definitely very flawed in a lot of places, particularly when it tries to tackle race, but i’m happy to see it for better and for worse. the game attempts to discuss several adjacent issues and stumbles as it does so, but insinuating it to be in some way “pro-racist” or “pro-colonialist” or whatever else feels kind of disingenuous to me. they’re clearly trying, however imperfectly, to do something intriguing and meaningful and empathetic with their story.

even all this will probably amount to a very disjointed and incomplete explanation of how pathologic & its messaging makes me feel, but what i want -- as a broader approach, not just for pathologic -- is for people to be willing to interpret things charitably. 

sometimes things are made just to be cruel, and those things should be condemned, but not everything is like that. it’s not only possible but necessary to be able to acknowledge flaws or mistakes and still be kind. persecuting something straight away removes any opportunity to examine it and learn from it, and pathologic happens to be ripe with learning experiences. 

it’s all about being okay with ugliness, working through difficult nuances with grace, and the strength of the human spirit, and it’s a story about love first and foremost, and i guess we sort of need that right now. it gave me some of its love, so i’m giving it some of my patience.

[skrltwtch]

Scent

Prompt: a & b have been friends since they were children — but they’ve gone their separate ways during college. during that time apart, muse a and b were attacked by a vampire and werewolf respectively, undergoing a transformation they never expected. they kept it a secret from each other, hoping that this doesn’t change their friendship — until they meet up over summer and … holy fucking shit why do you SMELL like that? (Source in master list)

Word count: 5,123 words

Genre: Romance, supernatural

Warnings: Blood

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Impatience composed the rhythm my fingers were drumming on the table. Late. As always. The optimist in me would say it was comforting to know that some things remained the same after all these years. The pessimist in me, the unspoken captain of this ship, wondered why it had to be this gross habit that weathered the winds of change. He suggested this time and place. He had been insistent on meeting in the evening. I didn’t mind either way. I simply figured that being fussy about what time to meet meant that he’d put some effort into being on time.

Because the bar had a flood of new patrons and a dearth of ones contented enough to leave, I went inside and got a table for us first. I didn’t want to have to think of a new place for us to go if the place was packed by the time he got here — whenever that’d be. Time check: fifteen minutes and counting. He was such a lovely friend, and may God never fail to bless every brown hair on his head for every second of his life, but this was infuriating. Not even a text to tell me where he was and what was holding him up. Morgan, please!

His arrival melted away all the indignation I was feeling — and made every hair on the back of my neck stand.

No, that was the pins and needles from sitting cross-legged for too long.

‘Ellie?’ Confusion squinched his eyes. I expected this. The last time he saw me was in college, i.e., some twenty kilograms ago. I wouldn’t have pitched a fit if he’d thought the pictures I used were the result of Photoshop, Facetune, and/or angles. In contrast, he looked exactly as he did when the pictures he used were taken — in college, albeit maybe with a little less baby fat in his face than I’d remembered. Damn. Well, how much could a person change in three years? It wasn’t like he ever needed to lose an ounce of weight, too, let alone twenty kilograms.

When I confirmed I was the same Ellie he’d had the privilege of knowing since childhood, he enveloped me in a hug. I did what had been conditioned into me by the ‘dog’ that I told people was responsible for the scar on my arm the time I went jogging at night because I thought the full moon was bright enough to keep me safe. People were more keen on lecturing me for daring to have that train of thought as a woman in London than questioning what kind of dog it was exactly that could leave a scar like the kind I had, perfectly vindicating my choice of cover for what really happened.

His scent was like a bat to my face. I’d never smelled anyone like this before. People smelled like their diets, their emotions, their likes and dislikes, their best and worst memories: all that made them, them. The scents I’d have associated with him would’ve been the crisp brininess of sea air and the comforting sweetness of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven. Instead, he smelled like blood, yet it didn’t smell like it belonged to him — or in him. I was also discerning a discomforting whiff of inhumanity, like something in him had been switched off. On top of that, he was clammy to the touch, and, most damningly of all, perhaps — no, no ‘perhaps’, as I pressed my ear to his chest, I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

I put on my best poker face and released myself from his embrace. ‘You’re late.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He sheepishly ran his hand through his hair. ‘God, it is so good to see you. It’s been so long. And look at you! I couldn’t recognise you. (Is it gauche to say that was why I was late?) I only knew — I only had a feeling it was you because —’

‘Because …?’

He clicked his tongue. ‘That’s not important. Listen, I don’t know what I was thinking, asking to meet in a crowded bar … Do you want to go somewhere quieter? So we can talk better without having to shout?’

I downed the last of my drink, which I’d been forced to get earlier than I wanted so the staff wouldn’t kick me out for taking up a table in one of the more desirable corners of their establishment. I agreed with Morgan on the condition that he thought of where to go next. I hated crowds to begin with, and now that I was hypersensitive to all that the five senses encompassed, crowds were, to put it simply, a fucking nightmare. I should’ve put a kibosh on his suggestion to meet at a bar when he made it. I’d be comparing apples and oranges here, but not liking crowds was normal, whereas smelling and feeling like a dead person wasn’t.

We went for ice cream. The first thing he asked me was how I lost the weight. Had we not met on an app meant for matchmaking, his first question would likely have been something else entirely, something to do with what it was that had us seeing each other for the first time since college. I told him what I did to get in shape, which was to watch what I ate and move farther and for longer than the trips I made from my room to the kitchen or bathroom, or from my desk to the pantry or washroom, throughout the day. What I left out was how I’d been maintaining despite having ordered something as indulgent as three heaping scoops of gelato with chocolate brownie pieces and hot fudge sauce: catch something from an animal bite that counted an enhanced metabolism needed to sustain monthly bodily trauma among one of its many symptoms. It really was easy as that.

We opted for takeout and a walk around Hyde Park to pad out our evening. The open space did nothing to defuse his strange scent. It was all I could focus on, and I needed all the brain cells I could get to the office on such short notice focus on our conversation. We’d gotten the answers to simple questions about our lives over text prior to tonight: what we did after college, what we were doing now, how our families were doing, so on and so forth. You know, small talk bullshit. I hadn’t doubted that we’d broach the subject of our break from each other at some point during our reconnection. The elephant had made itself comfortable in the room the instant I received the notification he’d swiped right on me. The thing was, the elephant couldn’t stop another one of its ilk from invading its space, and now they were both arguing over which one of them deserved our attention better.

The almost pristine three-layered sundae drenched in strawberry sauce in Morgan’s hand provided the perfect icebreaker for me to possibly appease either elephant. ‘Are you okay, Morgan?’ I said. ‘You’ve barely touched your ice cream.’ Conversely, I was halfway through mine, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I had hot fudge sauce smeared across my lips.

It wasn’t only his restraint from inhaling his ice cream, the single course of action the Morgan I knew, the one who wouldn’t be smelling like a mortuary, would’ve carried out ages ago. He had been looking out of sorts the entire evening. Even softballs were answered with skittishness and reserve. Really, why’d he agree to meet if he wasn’t entirely over what happened all those years ago? If that was what this was about, that is. Did seeing me in person make him realise that it wasn’t the best of ideas to attempt to rekindle a friendship that’d turned awkward from differing expectations? It didn’t bother me in any way, but that was easy for me to say, considering the role I played in all this.

‘I’m fine.’ He gulped down a giant spoonful of ice cream without flinching. He and I understood the concept of ‘fine’ very differently. ‘Ellie … we’re friends, right?’

He’d wanted to be more than at one point.

‘Yeah,’ I said as deadpan as I could to prevent him from reading too much into my answer. I mean, I would if I were him.

‘We can tell each other anything.’

We sure did.

‘Promise me you won’t take this the wrong way,’ he continued.

I stared at him blankly. Caveats never came before anything good.

‘… Why do you smell like that?’

Wow, what the fuck. I should be the one asking that question, not him!

‘Like what?’ Still as deadpan as humanly possible. Disregard the fact that I hadn’t been human in a while.

‘Like … fuck, I can’t. This was a bad idea.’

‘No, tell me. Like what?’

‘Like the forest. Moss. Tree bark. Leaves. Dirt. And a little bit of raw meat.’ There were no pauses between his words, though the sounds were disparate enough to identify them as actual words. ‘No, a lot of raw meat. No, forget I said anything. Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me tonight.’

‘Just what has gotten into you, period? Why do you smell like spoilt wine — like blood?’ I wanted to ask as well why he didn’t seem to have a heartbeat. I remembered in time that a stethoscope was required to detect that sort of thing, and I had no business owning one. I wouldn’t even know where to get one, short of robbing the doctor the next time I had to go in for a check-up.

‘Something happened to us, didn’t it? Other than the obvious.’

‘I think so. Say it together on the count of three?’ I needed the countdown to convince myself that whatever had made him like this hadn’t made him cruel. He hadn’t said or done anything that’d wound me. No, what was I thinking? This was Morgan I was talking about. What sacrilege to think he could hurt a living being. I should apologise to him for this.

He agreed to my proposition.

I started the countdown: ‘One — two — three —’

‘I’m a vampire.’

‘I’m a werewolf.’

Together: ‘What?’

‘Are you messing with me?’ he said.

‘Are you messing with me?’

‘Have I ever?’

He had a point. I really needed to apologise to him. ‘How did it happen?’ Why play dumb? I turned into a hulking wolf-woman hybrid once a month. There were obviously others like me. It stood to reason that vampires would exist as well.

‘I … met someone after college. She and I had … stuff in common. I thought she was kidding when she asked if she could feed on me the first time. I let her anyway, and so much about her made sense immediately. I asked her to turn me eventually. Being vampires together was fun at first … and then it wasn’t. I don’t regret it, though. Okay, I do regret not being able to really enjoy food anymore.’ He cast a wistful stare in the direction of his sundae. It was a milkshake by now. ‘You?’

‘I was bitten while I was hiking at night. It was an accident. He’ — I paid no attention to the wince he made — ‘realised what he did and brought me to safety. He revealed himself to me the next day. He taught me everything about being a werewolf. Of course, one thing led to another, and …’

‘He was your ex,’ he said stiffly. For the first time tonight, I smelled something other than blood on him: bitterness.

‘Yes, the one I told you about on Tinder.’ Because he asked. His responses in that part of the conversation, as brief as it was, had borne little to no emotion. Jude and I ended things on a good note. I made that clear to Morgan. There was nothing for him — as a friend — to have strong feelings about. ‘Please, Morgan.’ Us coming across each other and reconnecting on a dating app meant — was supposed to mean — nothing.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m sorry for what happened in college. I’m over it, I promise. The time and distance apart helped. I don’t want us to not be friends anymore because of this — because of what I did. I’m happy we got to meet again after so long … and after everything that happened.’

‘It’s okay, Morgan. I wasn’t — I’m not — upset about what happened.’ I wasn’t really anything about it. Okay, I might have been surprised that the roles had been as they were: Morgan glowed up toward the end of secondary school, a development that didn’t go unnoticed by most of the female population wherever he went, whereas I was pudgy, socially awkward, and not the right amount of weird for it to be seen as quirky, and would therefore be likely to latch on to my sole source of male attention. (I was now two out of three of those things.) ‘Things happen. We don’t get to control this kind of thing. I’m happy, too, that you’re back. I missed you. I’m happy you got to work things out and want to continue being friends. Let’s just put this behind us and move on, okay?’

I hugged him. Relief and cheer emanated from him, alleviating the musty scent that made sense to belong to a vampire.

‘I missed you, too. On the bright side, it made the vampire–werewolf confession easier to stomach, didn’t it?’ His grin revealed pointed canines.

I chuckled. We could compare our fangs sometime. ‘What do you do for food?’

He guzzled the entirety of his sundae-milkshake in one drag. I envied the apparent departure of the concept of brain freeze from him. I should learn more about vampire lore from him and see what Hollywood had gotten right and wrong. (It was mostly the latter for werewolves: we were underrepresented and misrepresented. I just could never get a fair shake on the big screen.) ‘You’d be surprised by how well vampires have modernised and worked the Internet to their advantage. Blood bag delivery services, forums and apps for vampires and … vampire enthusiasts to connect. How about you? What do you do on full moons?’

‘I drive out to the woods whenever I transform — whenever I want to. That’s a thing.’ Jude and I spent a lot of our nights together as wolves. I did miss that sometimes. Jude never prepared me for how lonely being a werewolf could be until it was too late. ‘I hunt. I play. I explore. I haven’t killed anyone to the best of my knowledge.’

‘I want to make a “good girl” joke, but you can literally tear me from limb to limb.’ I nodded with a slight air of pride. ‘This is so fascinating. Vampires are pretty straightforward. What you see in movies and on TV is what you get — mostly.’ Ah, hell. ‘Hey, can I tag along whenever you transform? So I can learn how to hunt animals. Blood bags are actually kind of shitty, and I’m trying to keep biting people to a minimum. I — um — I don’t want to accidentally go too far and turn or kill someone.’

I was deeply relieved that he was still the same caring, thoughtful person I knew in spite of the faint unfeelingness I sniffed earlier. I wouldn’t think twice if it were another vampire: maybe that was what was needed for them to survive. I mean … who was I to judge? I gave in to feral thoughts occasionally. Given a choice, the only thing I’d choose to hunt was the perfect red velvet cake. But this was Morgan, the same person I needed to apologise to for thinking he’d say something mean to make me feel bad on purpose.

‘Of course, I’d love to show you the ropes! Just don’t judge my wolf form, okay?’ I said.

‘Shut up. I’m sure you look great. Would you prefer being called cute or ferocious?’

‘Both, please.’

‘I figured. Can you believe I was afraid to tell you about this? I didn’t know how you’d react, especially after …’

‘Same.’ The club that knew what I was, was a highly exclusive one, consisting of only two members at the moment and for the foreseeable future. I didn’t dare tell anyone else. Just how would this come up in a normal conversation? ‘I know we can tell each other anything.’ We did. We were in a world where asking a friend to be more than friends was less cause for concern for one’s mental health after all. ‘And nothing’s come between us. Not even —’

He nodded emphatically.

We found a place to sit in the park and continued talking, sharing stories about our new lives and recounting those from our old ones. Time became inconsequential, as did the fact that it had done so on a weeknight. We left only because the park was closing soon and I got hungry, because enhanced metabolism. A Lebanese takeaway near the park was my saviour. Our conversation persisted into the wee hours of the morning and a long way away from where we’d started. As he turned down my request to have breakfast together before heading home almost at the crack of dawn as we were wont to do in our early college days (and he did so patiently, which was more than what I deserved for being a forgetful idiot), it hit me for a moment that being friends with a vampire might pose a challenge to scheduling, as if his chronic lateness wasn’t already a thing. Then I realised it didn’t matter. I was simply happy to have him back in my life, and while anything about us could change at any time, one thing was for certain: our friendship would be everlasting.

✦✧✦✧

It happened again.

I fell in love with her again.

As soon as I felt the same tingle in my stomach that gave rise to our long separation in college, I knew I had to call our friendship off for good. This couldn’t keep happening. She needed a friend she could count on to be there for her because he wanted to out of cordiality, not one whose intentions she’d constantly be second-guessing. She had to know something was up. She had to have sensed my feelings for her. What could that nose of hers not detect? No, we agreed not to read each other’s emotions using our sense of smell. We weren’t at that level of intimacy with each other, as much as I desperately wanted us to be.

And hell, did I ever want it so terribly. Being what I was, everything I felt was intensified. I didn’t know what I might do to her if I continued to be around her while she didn’t reciprocate my feelings, and I didn’t want to find out. I was prepared to spend all of eternity without her. There’d come a time anyway when she wouldn’t be in my life anymore. Werewolves weren’t immortal. I’d have to watch her grow old — at a slower rate than humans, sure. So that’d buy us at least a decade or two. So what? I’d still have to watch her die. The sooner I ended things, the better it’d be for the both of us. She could get a head start on the life she deserved, one free of a perpetually lovesick wanker.

I’d do it tonight — under the stars at the beach, the breeze appreciable but not disruptive, the waves lapping the shore with calm strokes, the waxing gibbous moon bathing us in a warm, tranquil glow. It was fucking perfect … for what I wished this was instead of what this was supposed to be. It didn’t have to be tonight. Did I want to ruin this lovely picnic she’d so eagerly planned and looked forward to? It had to be tonight. The longer I spent in her company, the more I feared I’d do something that’d push us beyond the brink of repair.

Desire and disquietude were making it difficult to focus on her words. She was talking about … her latest project at work or the 22nd and 23rd cats her sister had just adopted … or something. Her lips were mesmerising to watch. They must feel just as nice to kiss. Jude was bloody lucky to be the only person to know for sure. Fuck. Fuck, Morgan. You’d fucking lost the plot. This shit was exactly why you needed to get away from her. Fucking knob. Fucking loser who thought ‘once bitten, twice shy’ didn’t apply to him. She’d think you were a fucking obsessive creep, and she’d be right.

‘— I can’t stand to visit her. I don’t need to be a werewolf to think that the smell of twenty-something cats in an okay-sized flat is horrendous. And no one would dare call her out on it. You know what she’s like. It’s how she has twenty-something cats to begin with. She wasn’t even a cat person before. Anyway’ — Ellie held up her hands, the movement stealing my attention from her lips, ‘low contact, as it is with the rest of them.’ She popped a pie bar in her mouth. ‘And I just spent the last five minutes ranting about my sister and her lack of self-control. Totally the best thing to do at a time like this, right?’

I could listen to her spout off about the most mundane thing possible all night and find it all so riveting.

I sipped my drink — badger blood to bring out the sweetness of the fruit-heavy dishes and complement the fowl-based sandwiches she packed. I never would’ve thought of pairing the blood of different animals with human food to make the latter more palatable. She revived in me the thrill of being a vampire after two years of languishing under the spell of ennui and regret for an existence spanning all of eternity cast on me by the desolation of my split from Lorelai. And I was likely going to go down that rabbit hole again after tonight. It was for a good cause. I’d rather be miserable than be the source of her headache.

‘Morgan? You’re — um —’ She made a circular motion at my upper body, and then heaved her shoulders in an amused shrug. ‘I wish you all the best in getting all that out.’

I looked over what she’d gestured at. ‘Fuck it. I’d been meaning to toss this shirt anyway.’

I soaked up what I could with a napkin — or five — and took off my shirt before I’d retch from the smell. I practised controlled feeding for a reason. Now I was shirtless and a little bloodied, just in time for one of the most important conversations in my very long, soon to be very lonely, life to take place. Terrific.

‘Ellie, I — I have something to tell you.’

‘I fucked up the dip, didn’t I?’

‘No, it’s not that — it’s delicious.’ For something that didn’t come from a vein, at least. ‘Ellie … I love you.’ Again. Because I was a stupid fuck.

Her lips formed an O. Stop fucking looking at her lips!

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I thought I’d gotten over it the first time.’ It sucked that there was now a ‘first time’. ‘I just get this feeling when I’m around you. I feel safe, happy — I feel like I’m alive again. I don’t have to hide anything about myself. I can be me, yet you make me want to be the best I can be for you. But I can’t keep doing this to you and myself. I don’t want to settle on being friends this time. I know that part of me won’t let me either. And I don’t know what that part of me would do if I continue to be in your life like this.’

‘Morgan —’

‘I shouldn’t have come back. I’ve enjoyed the past year tremendously. But I think — I know I have to leave now while things are still … good between us. It’d be for the best. I don’t want to fuck up what we had since we were kids. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. I truly am.’

She simply stared at me. She must be thinking why the fuck she’d been saddled with a right prat for a friend. Where did things go wrong? Did I knock back too many whiskey shots on my 18th birthday? I vaguely remembered her asking me to stop after my eleventh. Why wasn’t she still saying anything? Did I break her?

‘No, Morgan’ was what she said at last — and the only thing she said for the longest time.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t leave.’ Her hand hovered over mine. Uncertainty swam about in her eyes. Her dilemma was plain to see. I took her hand and locked our fingers together. This was the only time I could get away with being this forward. I wanted to savour her warmth as well for as long as I could; I’d miss it so much.

‘I have to. It’s not safe for you to be around me.’

‘But … I want to be with you. Not as friends. Morgan … I’ve fallen in love with you, too.’

‘What are you saying? No, don’t — that’s not —’ Had I put her under some kind of glamour without realising it? Was she humouring me? Every fibre of my being yearned for what I heard to be true. Nothing I’d seen in all the time we spent together suggested the possibility. Nothing we did together seemed out of the ordinary.

‘I’m — I mean it. I should be the one apologising, I think. I’ve felt this way for the last couple of months. I look forward to being with you all the time. I love receiving your texts throughout the night and waking up to them in the morning. Nothing feels like it’s happened until I tell you about it. I get these butterflies in my stomach every time you smile at me and touch me. You remember these small details about us from so long ago. I think the moment I knew was when I was having a tough time transforming for whatever reason and you were just … there for me, holding me, talking me down. I love you. I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner. I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how you’d react because of — because of what happened in college.’

She sniffled. Seeing that I was the reason for her tears stung my heart. I wiped them away for her. ‘I love you. I always will,’ I said.

Then our lips met. I’d waited so long for this, and it was both everything I dreamt of and like nothing I could’ve ever imagined. Her lips were so warm, so soft, so sweet. I tasted the tartness of cherries and apples, the smokiness of turkey, the acidic sharpness of vinaigrette, on her mouth, notes I thought lost to me forever. An indistinct thumping sounded deep inside my chest. Her fingers slid into my hair, making waves of it. I pulled her closer to me, my hands gripping her waist, in the hope that the rush of her skin against mine would allay my doubts that this was all just a dream. But how could it be a dream when everything seemed to finally make sense? While Lorelai had promised a life anew in death, Ellie was the promise of a life renewed and delivered from death.

I didn’t want this moment to end. It had to, as my body was beginning to respond to the call of her blood.

She pulled away. No, I wanted to cry out. She must’ve sensed my thirst.

‘It’s okay if you want to,’ she said. ‘I’m not afraid.’

She bared her neck for me. My nostrils flared. I could smell her blood — like red hot ambrosia. Her heartbeat pounded in my ears, growing louder with every second I dithered. Why was I hesitating? I wanted her. I needed her.

I sank my teeth into her neck. She shuddered; a soft moan fled her lips. Crimson flowed out of the punctures I made. Everything I’d imbibed prior paled in comparison to what I was now partaking of: little explosions of flavour — syrupy, racy, robust — went off in my mouth. I feared nothing else could do it for me after this. I lapped up every drop of ruby as if it were exquisite manna; I made sure none of it went to waste. The blood I ingested was making its way south, making a signal for another kind of craving to be met. Not now. It’d be too soon for us. I had all the time in the world to get to know her better.

Her scent and whines were becoming too hard to ignore. I stopped for fear that I was misinterpreting them out of my own bias. I found myself staring into enlarged amber irises in pools of black. Claws had popped out from under her fingernails. She, too, was sporting fangs. Her chest, lightly shining with sweat, rose and fell sharply. The changes reversed themselves in short order. Red spread across her cheeks in uneven blotches.

‘I’m sorry. I —’ she said.

I cupped my hand around her cheek. ‘You can let go if you want to. You don’t have to be shy around me.’ She’d always been sheepish about her wolf form and the lengths she went to for its emergence around me. The incident she referred to had only been allowed to happen because her panic attack drowned out any embarrassment, any diffidence, she harboured about the process. That was the only time I saw her in that state.

She shook her head. ‘I know. I just — I’d want to experience that — our first time — as myself, and I don’t think I can do that now. I hope that’s okay.’

I wiped my mouth and gave her a light kiss on the lips. ‘Of course. We don’t have to rush into things. We have a lifetime ahead of us’, and I wanted every second to be as special as the last. She smiled in agreement and enfolded me in a tight embrace. It startled me how much she felt just like home in my arms. I could do this with her forever, and for a fleeting moment, as I fingered the now unblemished skin where my teeth had pierced, I wondered if there would ever be the chance of her wanting to share in my idea of forever.

[samnyangie]

Personal reviews on RSL filmography

Rsl, iI thought it’d be a good idea to record my thought on each films rsl was in, it was something I always wanted to do...

Rsl in total, was starred in (excluding tv series etc) 27-ish films, to be honest, considering his years as an actor(approximately more than 30 years) he wasn’t starred in that many. We all know why lol

Just saying I’m not a film expert, therefore the list is very subjective.

The reviews with trigger warning (r*pe, g*re etc): Tape, Killer: Journal of Murder, A glimpse of hell. Tho in the writing I’ve censored them with * since I don’t feel comfortable saying them here

There isn’t particular spoilers except for dps, tape, and ground control

The favourites (literally my life time films)

Dead Poets Society

I assume many would agree, and as many would have, it was my first ever rsl film, like I was on the plane and it was one of the films they offered, and I was like, oh I think i heard of this, so I watched and instantly loved it. The message is very relevant to this day, the cinematography is very beautiful and somehow nostalgic. I was horrified with Neil’s death. Tbh now I’ve seen too many memes and all kind of things from the fandom (which I’m grateful for!) I thought the heartfelt I once had would deluded a bit, however when I watched it again last April with my family at the cinema and it still moved me very deeply.

The age of Innocence

Okay, unpopular opinion here, I love this so much. It’s my all time favourite rsl film. It even outruns dps tiny winy bit haha. Aside from how he had tiny winy screen time, appearing at the end but the fact that he played quite an important role and him being gorgeous in it just<33 I couldn’t help but smiling! It just the whole film was so much of my cup of tea? The melodrama and the hypocrisy hidden by elegance among the upper social classes in 19th century is just what I needed. The more I watch it, the more I understand the characters and their emotions, it’s one of those films you should keep visit to discover the things you weren’t aware of before. I watched it again this morning and i couldn’t stop thinking about it. However, I know some people find it boring and I understand why, my sister is one of them lol(except for a bit where rsl was in) but i think it’s more complex than what it appears to be at a first glance haha. In conclusion, it became one of my comfort film to watch time to time. 

The ones I like<33

Swing kids

At first viewing, I didn’t expected much because it had underwhelming reviews but when I actually saw it, I thought it was quite decent and more and more I watched it, I felt like it was underrated. Yes, I think some directing choices were bit old fashioned and cheesy especially the ending, I’m not saying it was a perfect masterpiece but it deserves more recognition than it has now. Also in spite that there’re some parts being too simplified, it touched on something other films about ww2 normally don’t. It was interesting to see the German perspective on it than Jewish or the allies perspective like many of them does, but of course the latter perspectives matter, it could be argued that they more valid than the former, which partly was where sk criticised for, however, the portrayal of the varied reactions of the German people (in this one particular the teenagers) has its value in their on way. Anyway along side with it, the music and the dance scenes were great, without exaggeration, though Swing kids isn’t my fav, peter’s solo dance scene is my favourite scene in any movies I’ve ever watched. I mean that scene had both visuals and meaning as it demonstrated Peter’s determination as well as resentment with a hitch of unsureness. Rsl acting in that scene was just phenomenal, it’s not about showing off the dancing skills but he portrayed every mixed emotions peter has from his expression and the moves, I just can’t talk about this enough especially this scene was the reason I started fallen for him. lol

Much ado about nothing

Much ado is something I never seen anything like so it was a refreshing exprience. I barely watched Shakespeare on screen kind of thing. Though I felt there were some bits too cheesy for me but they are also the charms in the same time, and the cinematography was pretty also Claudio aka rsl, it was like an official announcement of declaring my worship on this man. Especially it was after SWING KIDSSSS so I couldn’t help it now everyone knows how I fallen for him but no one can blame meeeeee Anyway, it’s a really good film to watch when you want be relaxed with cup of tea maybe hehe

In the gloaming

I heard about it before I watched it, that it’s a heart wrenching, tearful piece, though I didn’t managed to cry, it’s just.... painful and in a way heartfelt. I liked that story telling was calm and collected rather than forcing you to join the sob party, just showing the characters to carry on. And thanks to the great acting from the cast, the characters could be emphasised and understood, personally the older sister was the most relatable character for me, well, eldest complex lol. In short I liked it but it’s not something I would watch it often.

Last days of Disco

As a person who looks at aesthetic in films, I simply enjoyed this for that tbh. I don’t know, I just liked the feeling. But I don’t think it’d be everyone’s cup of tea. I love the day time clothes the girls wore in the film. Tbh I love the music too, I think I love all the films of rsl with music in it. Speaking about rsl, oh rsl, he’s.... His character might be bit unlikable but he was just.... This is why I can’t unlove his characters even the debatable ones<33

They were decent! (I would recommend it)

Married to it

This is the first and last ever attempt of rsl of romcomssss The film itself is cliche to be frank it’s like love actually but it’s about marriage life + it’s not christmas but I like heartfelt cliche stories like this, if anyone also loves this type of story, it’s really worth watching, it’s one of my comfort films, also, rsl is so pretty I mean he always is but to see him being a office man with a baby face made me go awww my baby grew up heheh I wish he did another romcom like this or more preferably, melodramatic romance, I’d have made a shrine of it and worship it every morning lol

The boys next door

I kind of smiled while watching it throughout, if you want something that is heartfelt and touch on some serious topic about social workers and the people with mental disorder, Rsl plays a character who has (I think it was) Schizophrenia and troubled relationship with his father(Deja vu I know) but general atmosphere tend to be quite humourous. I don’t get me wrong, though it’s light hearted, it doesn’t mean they treat the topic in the same way. There’s a scene where the protagonist imagining the one of the characters with the disorder talking eloquently and honourably at the court on the rights and the dignity of the people with mental disorders deserve to/should have and they’re just the same people as the people without mental disorders. It was a powerful scene.

My two loves

Rsl’s first ever screen debut film! Hehe it’s about a woman who is discovering her sexual identity and the conflicts within I personally thought it was fairly sensible depiction but I can’t say for sure whether it was accurate or else, since I don’t think it’s my place to say it:) But if you’re interested, it’s on YouTube, you can just search for it or go to this post I made. Fun fact: since it was his debut film, it credits him as he’s real name, Robert L. Leonard, I just find it amusing haha

Tape

It’s another type of film I don’t encounter that often, I enjoyed it, especially with Neil and Todd’s reunion lol. Rsl mentioned how he enjoyed it because it felt like doing a play, my first impression was that the structure is like a play, though the camera work made me quite dizzy haha. But the dialogues, the acting, I think it was quite spot on. Especially the human contradictions and hypocrisy side of it. The most people assume the baddie in the film is Jon the character rsl played and has a distaste for him. I mean how can anyone love a character who is accused of r*pe but to be honest, Vincent for me seemed just as problematic, both of them are hypocrites for sure in their own different ways but in the end we can’t be sure what’s really the truth or not. It’s about the vagueness, and phychology and the uncertainty from the audience on who to believe(well, myself included, most would trust on Amy’s claims since she’s the victim in the accusation, but by her denying the claims, making everything way unclear,) so I don’t know. I don’t really have an opinion haha tho I don’t believe nothing happened because Amy denied so, even Umma Thurman who played her, said that her interpretation was that Amy lied. I felt it’s endless rabbit hole this film. Sorry I couldn’t worded it better.

My best friend is a Vampire

It’s cringey and weird but there’re odd charm to it. Vampire rsl’s so cute as well.... and I think it’s the only film, he acted kind of flirty ? So for that itself I’d like to appreciate itttt And it’s so 80s/90s, like it has general odd nostalgia like all films from that age has. I saw a Korean blog about rsl films and this was mentioned, that- they said- it’s a bible of rsl’s adorableness and I think that sum up the film perfectly.

Mr&Mrs Bridge

Before this was in ‘I mean it was fine” category, but I watched it again and now I want to retract my statement lol Still isn’t my fav but I noticed how delicately depicted each characters are, Mr and Mrs Bridge in particular. This film is alternatively about the changes in the young generation regarding liberty, feminism, free expression especially on sex. It’s in the perspective of the bridges, the mother and father who is old fashioned and conservative (as it was normal in their previous generation) and the children who are the young generation, and the misunderstanding and conflicts between them. After all it all happened not only because of the difference but also the lack of communication, which rsl emphasised in his interviews. I found it interesting that they made it seems like the Bridges truly existed with the video footage and (with the ending) describing what happened to each family member in text with photos. When I watched it at first I was really confused if it was based on a real life. I think what they wanted to suggest was that the Bridges every typical American family at the time. It was something everyone was going through. I said previously I didn’t get why Rsl’s character (the youngest in the Bridges) treated his mother so coldly. Honestly I do get why, but I guess I felt so bad so the mother haha

I mean it was fine

The safe passage

It was okay but to be honest it didn’t stood out to me. It was okay. The story, the characters weren’t that interesting. I wish they extended it longer to go depth with their family relationship or something.

A painted house

I find it likeable, it has a chill, old folk story vibe, but same as previous one. it didn’t really stand out except for shirtless rsl, do close ups you cowards

Bluffing it

I was really fond of the premise of this film and I think it has great intention. It was specifically made to promote the awareness of illiteracy and how to get support. However, I don’t get the reason of Jack the protagonist’s illiteracy. Unless, it was common occurrence in America at the time, I feel like it’d have been more convincing if he was in poor family hood, so there was no time to learn at school due to working at young age...? I mean, just finding it hard to believe he passed the high school just like that, I mean the teachers or anyone should have noticed it, maybe I’m missing something here but it seemed unlikely to me.

Ground control

Again, I liked the message, as it depicted how frightening and difficult job the ground controller is, by one mistake could take away the lives of hundreds, especially as someone who goes on planes a lot... But it was quite cliche throughout, I just couldn’t get engaged to it. But I do admit at the end when the protagonist runs off to the landing zone see the pilot who he had just saved, they acknowledged each other and have eye contacts was truly wholesome. Rsl as cocky, bad boy was such a icing on the cake, I loved it so much. Chewing gum in every scene lol I hope he plays these sort of characters more often. I saw someone criticising him saying he has narrow spectrum of just playing nice boy roles like Neil but I really wanted to debunk the narrative and this could be one of the examples! 

Chelsea walls

I knew that this has split reviews but nonetheless I think worth to watch it, 1. Ethan and rsl re union, 2. Ethan is the directer of the film and rsl sing in it. But I have to say, it’s one of those hard to follow art indie film so I couldn’t finish it on one go. I feel like I have to devour it over and over again. Maybe later on I grow fond of it more lol But his character, I loved him so much. He’s just has everyone don’t touch me, I’m a cocky artist vibe, there’s a scene where his annoying friend annoying him and he looks up and says: ‘Fck off’. Absolute golddddd not to mention he sings and plays guitar so beautifully<333

Well... it’s not my cup of tea

The Manhattan project

I don’t think the film it self was that bad, it’s about high school boy who find out the existence of some nuclear energy research lab and stole the energy to make his own nuclear bomb. I just don’t get the thinking process of the protagonist. It really frustrated me. He seemed apathetic and unlikable I disliked him throughout and that’s why I didn’t really enjoyed it. I mean it has humour and ridiculous storyline might be humorous to some. But more importantly there was such little screen time for rsl!! LIKE WHY? WHY PEOPLE?? HE LOOKS LIKE A FRESH HUMAN MOCHI!!! It makes me soooo mad to think about it

Killer: Journal of Murder

Well, first of all, it had a lot of graphic things than I imagined, brutally murd*red bodies, execution, and r*pe scene, gosh I was strucken by it when I saw that, I had to skipped that scene. It’s based on a real event and a real criminal called Carl Panzram, so if you’re aware of it, it might be more intriguiging to see. But personally for me... meh, I don’t think directing was good as it failed to portray it enough for me to comprehend fully.

A Glimpse of Hell

This is also based on a true event of a tragic accident in the us battleship in Iowa in 1989. They shows tragedy lin a blunt, brutal way by showing horribly damaged bodies of the soldiers torn into pieces, all the horrid things directly so be warned about that. I was quite alarmed because i didn’t expect to see it haha there’s no much to say. The film quality was so so for me. I feel their approach wasn’t appropriate, they were clearly trying to make it dramatic which is fine but in a melodramatic emotional way. It didn’t work because first, there aren’t enough portrayal of the characters for me to get attached, secondly it added the unnecessary exaggeration it prevented me from being emotionally involved or even to think about it. In my opinion, I think it’d have been better if they made it more restrained, dry, focus on the accuracy. For example like 1987 or Zodiac, I mean both of them has dramatic elements since they’re not a documentary but they were not overdone, in a contrary added emphasis to their message/conclusion. I know it’s easier said than done but it was something I consistently felt during it.

Sir.... I’m sorry but-

Standoff

Haha... it’s very peculiar... the directing is off and it just weird. I knew it was bad already but I watched it because rsl as a cop with gunssssssss just... so rare and just.... something else. There’s no way of me missing that seriously. Tbh him doing an action stunt isn’t what I imagine when it comes to him and there’s really any actions scenes anyway but it really was something. Like the character he played here really became my soft spot Hehehehe he was pretty and plus, tbh it’s kind of film I’d make fun of while watching so everything was (alomst) forgivable. There is a recent thing I think about, since this is about a cult, I kind of hope he’d at some day play a role like Eli Sunday from There will be blood: a manipulative, deceitful and maddened priest with twisted faith. Though Paul Dano did a grand job, the idea was in my head the whole time. Well, it’s a shame he wasn’t any of those here lol

Driven

From what I seen, the majority of people seem to unanimously hate this film, and after watching it I became one of those ppl. At least Standoff could be make fun of and rsl held gunssss but this...... I want to say so many things... I feel like they should have chose either fancy, fast paced, thrilling racing film or detailed depiction of emotions/relationships with the racers and people involved in it, I know both can be done, but I think that was outside of their ability, but since they tried to do that at once, it became a mess that doesn’t go either way. And the characters, any of them, including rsl’s are narrow or impossible to understand. I mean rsl did great himself, it was not about acting, the problem lies on the script and editing in my opinion. Also there were so many unnecessary characters made me question of their existence. Luckily rsl’s character isn’t one of them, however because of them, he had to squeeze in and unable to elaborate, which is a shame as he was an interesting character and someone rsl rarely plays; a arrogant and opportunist agent/brother of the protagonist, who would do anything for success... ha.... whyyyyy

This is it. If I watch other stuff I might add to it in the future. Overall, I know I’m biased but I do like His filmography, I do have appreciations in every one of them in different way to the good ones to bad. He may have disagree, but I love his acting on screen, well, I barely seen him on stage (crying)

Edit: as some of you could see, I’ve edited this over and over again haha elaborating on thing or the contrary. I can say with a glimpse of hell I practically managed to watch every rsl films out there lol except for the i inside and the short film he did called a dog race in Alaska. But with the former I’m not interested and already know the storyline, and the latter is just impossible to find, trust me I did my best;; 

So to sum up: I HAVE MASTERED THE RSL FILMOGRAPHY!

[aizawasbodypillow]

Truly Madly Deeply

Ship: All Might x Reader Prompt: Was for my BNHA Hangout server collab before I had to move blogs Length: over 1k A/N: Soft Toshinori is my jam.  I love him so much.

The sigh escaped as you spotted Toshinori hunched over the desk softly snoring after another long day at UA.  He was going to run himself ragged if he kept it up and you didn’t have any idea on how to distract him.  As long as you’d known him, he was single minded in his purpose and goal.  “The Symbol of Peace” was all he’d been known as for so long, but now he only had teaching.  All Might was still a name on the people’s lips but it wasn’t as positive as it used to be.  You reached over and plucked the cell phone hanging limply from his fingers.  A series of articles flashed across the screen and another heavy sigh passed your lips.

“Oh Toshinori.  You shouldn’t listen to these people.  You never have before.”  The headlines talked of chaos and fear that people were experiencing.  Without All Might how will we survive?  That one made you shake your head.  Toshinori already put so much on his shoulders, he didn’t need to be reading the public doing the same.  You gently set the phone down beside his head and nudged his shoulder.  

He straightened up like a shot as his eyes darted around the room.  Leftover from his hero days no doubt.  The electric blue landed on your form and the lines eased from around his eyes and mouth.  His voice was whisper soft as he murmured your name and held out a hand for you. “Did I fall asleep again?”  You ran your fingers through his hair as he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging until you were pressed against him.

“You work so hard Toshi. It’s okay to take a break every now and then you know?”  He sighed and you could already hear his argument in your head and heart.  Instead of arguing you pressed a kiss to the top of his head.  “Let’s get you into bed.  If you stay out here then you’ll do nothing but complain about your back hurting tomorrow.”

“Are you insinuating that I am old?”  You paused and tucked your tongue into your cheek.

“Well…  If we put the candles on your birthday cake next year we may have to call the fire department.”  You let that sink in for a second before squealing when his fingers gently pinched an ass cheek.  “Hey!”

“And you’re too cheeky for your own good.”  You leaned down and pressed your lips to his with the laughter on your lips.  He loved this.  The quiet times, the times where he’d get to taste your laugh on your lips. There had been too many days in the past where he’d thought he’d never get to come home to you.  Now.  Now he was able to see you almost every day.  Like he’d once dreamed about when he first met you.  

“But you love how cheeky I get.  If I remember right…”  You flashed him a wicked grin.  “You fell in love with me the day you rescued me.”  The memory was a treasured one.

“And you told me.  If I remember, to kiss your ass.”  The memory always brought a chuckle out of him. You’d been the only one to never be in awe of who he was.  He was All Might but he wasn’t All Might to you.  He’d greatly appreciated never having to worry about your love being because of hero worship.  You loved him for being Toshinori.  

“I was not having a good day that day.  At least up until the number one asked for my phone number.”  He coughed to cover up the embarrassment of that blunder.  He’d been so shocked at being told where to shove his rescuing that he’d blurted out the question: Can I have your number?

“And I still remember what your face looked like.”  Toshinori protested only slightly when you gently tugged him up out of his chair. Even in his smaller form he was still a tall man.  Your lips twitched as you heard the creak and pop of his joints as he stood.  “Not a word.”  You swallowed the giggle that threatened to spill out.

“I am offended you’d think I’d say anything.”  His eyes narrowed as your voice shook with barely constrained amusement.  

“I hear you get up in the morning too.”  Toshinori chuckled at the shocked gasp that he got from you.  “What did you compare yourself to this morning?”  He grasped his chin as if in thought.  You lightly smacked his shoulder as you knew perfectly well what you said.  “Ah yes. A bowl of Rice Krispies.”  

“Rude.”  You stuck out your tongue at him as you walked down the hall to the bedroom with him.  Toshinori chuckled at your childish display.  He hoped you never lost it.  Throughout it all you never treated him reverently.  Like some idol to be worshipped.  Anytime he came home and there had been a chore forgotten he’d get an earful about it.  At home he wasn’t All Might and he loved that about you.  Loved that with you.  He loved you.

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”  You turned to look at him and the look in your eyes stopped him in his tracks. There wasn’t a trace of amusement in your eyes but what was there stole his breath.  His hand lifted for your cheek as his thumb brushed over the skin there. He knew your face and could see it in his dreams.  Could picture every single feature when he closed his eyes.  This wasn’t the first time he’d seen the emotion shining in your eyes but it was the first time it had stolen his breath.  He was afraid that touching it or speaking of it would shatter it and he’d be left standing in the shards of your love.

“No.  I wouldn’t have you any other way than what you are Toshinori.” You leaned in and kissed him gently. Just a feather soft brush of your lips against his but the wealth of emotion behind the kiss weighed it down. He found himself sinking into the kiss, tugging you back for more with the hand on your cheek.  A soft sound left your parted lips as his sealed over them. It was almost his undoing hearing the quiet sigh.  

His hand tensed against your cheek and your hand automatically covered his.  The gentle touch anchored him and he lifted his head. You smiled at him as he pressed his forehead against yours.  “If I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow.”  You couldn’t stop the stupid smile that made its way on your lips.

“Oh?  And what would that be Mr. All Might?”  The mischief in your voice had a laugh slipping past his own lips.  “Will you keep me up all night lecturing me on my devious ways?”  That broke him and the laughter filled the room.  It was one of the first times you’d teased him you’d but you’d been bare ass naked when you’d said it.  His genuine confusion had caused you to laugh so hard you’d choked. That first time together had been filled with laughter which had eased his nerves with you.  He’d fallen completely head over heels with you the moment he’d seen you laughing without a stitch of clothes on.

“You wish.”  He snorted in reply as he tugged you in close for a hug.  His eyes landed on the table by his side of the bed and what was in it.  He’d never been able to do it while he’d been number one and he still wasn’t sure he could without villains targeting you.  Despite not being the number one hero, he still had a wealth of enemies that would look for any opening to hurt him.  He felt your arms wrap around him and your heart racing against your chest.  Just like his.  All these years and he still felt his heart jump whenever he walked into the room with you.

“Boo.  You’re no fun.”  You softened your words with a kiss to his cheek and a grin on your lips. He squeezed you in a tight hug despite your laughing protests.  They were muffled as he gave you another kiss before releasing you.

“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?”  That brought you up short.  There’d been talk about marriage and why it was never a good idea.  To be honest you’d been okay with it.  The Symbol of Peace had too many enemies at his back and you understood his concerns.  Rather than have him worry every time while out, and potentially put others in danger, you agreed to remain as a committed partner.  It had worked out well for the two of you all these years.

“Come on Toshinori. You told me why that wasn’t a good idea years ago.”  You gently nudged his shoulder with a nervous laugh.  Why would he bring it up again?  Nerves tangled in your belly.  Was he worried about what would happen to you when the inevitable happened? Your fingers tightened on his sleeves as he gazed into your eyes.  “Toshi?” The quiet question broke him from his thoughts.

“I’m no longer the Symbol of Peace.  I’ll always have enemies but I have to put my faith in the heroes that are out there today. Put my faith into young Midoriya and his classmates that they will be able to fill my shoes.”  He reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers over your cheek.  “But I can’t picture my life without you in it.”  Your heart squeezed tight at the soft look on his face.  As if there was no one else in this world but you.  The nerves warmed your belly as you tried to figure out what he was trying to say.

“Toshi?”  He stepped towards the bed and pulled open the top drawer of his nightstand.  You followed his movements and your eyes widened when he pulled out the velvet box. It looked so tiny in his hand. Like a children’s toy given from a capsule machine but you had a sinking feeling that there was no child’s toy in that box.  You whispered his name again as he turned back to you.

“Do you know when I first bought this?”  You shook your head.  You had no clue he even had the box.  He held it out for you and you gently lifted it with only slightly shaky fingers.  “Go ahead.”  You tilted your head in confusion but flipped open the top of the box. The gasp left your lips.  The ring was nestled against the same velvet that made the box.  The cut and stones were perfect.  

“Toshi.  I.”  He placed his finger against your lips and gently shook his head.

“Please.  I had thought of this years ago.  There just.”  He sighed as he looked at your face.  The shock, the love, and the barely restrained emotion there.  “There just didn’t seem to be a right time.  I know there will always be enemies dogging my heels because of who I was.  I can’t avoid that.”  His voice was low and serious as he spoke while his hands took the box from you. He plucked the ring out of the velvet and let the box drop between you.  “But I can’t live without you in my life.  Never have been.  Since the very first time you told me to kiss your ass.”  That earned him a shaky burst of laughter from you.  “I’ve wanted to make it something that will last.  Be forever.”

“It already is Toshi. I don’t need a ring on my finger to make it any more real.”  Your quiet words reassured him that you did love him.  Had loved him for all of these years.  You put up with so much but he wanted to see the ring on your finger. Making you his.  A visible show to the world that you were his partner, his love, and anyone who dared to get between you would be in for a world of hurt.

“I know.”  He pressed his lips against your forehead as he held the ring between his fingers.  “We don’t need to have it to make our love real.  I want to ask and do this right.”  He stepped back and dropped down to one knee.  “I want you to be mine.  And to show the rest of the world that what we have is real.  And nothing they do can ever break it apart.”  

Tears misted your vision as he held the ring up to you.  You barely saw it thanks to them but you managed a nod.  “I will Toshi.  Always.” He slipped it onto your finger the cool metal warming quick on your skin.  You’d never dared hope you could get married to Toshi one day.  It just hadn’t seemed possible.  He was the Symbol of Peace.  Now?  Now he could be Toshinori Yagi and soon you’d be able to share that last name.  You liked the sound of that.  You looked back at him to tell him how much you loved him when you noticed his discomfort.  “Toshi?”

“Well.”  He coughed as he tried not to give away his predicament.

“Toshinori Yagi.  Are you telling me you can’t get up?”  He had the grace to flush but you leaned down and wrapped your arms under his.  He slowly got up and sighed at your laughter.  He didn’t want to know what you were going to say.  Likely something full of snark and teasing but it would make him laugh anyway.

“Go ahead and say it.” You laughed at the resignation in his voice.  You stepped back after he was on his feet and gave him a mischievous grin.

“Should I be the one carrying you over the threshold then?”  You laughed as he moved lightning quick and had you in his arms.  Despite the wiry build he still had enough in him to lift you up.  “Toshi! I’m heavy!  Put me down before you hurt your back!”  

“Okay.”  He stepped over to the bed and dropped you like a rock onto it.  You cursed his name as he laughed before joining you on it, pinning you down with his weight.  “I do love you.”  His words stopped your struggling as you looked up at him in surprise. “Madly.  Deeply.”  He pressed a kiss against your lips to punctuate each word.  “And forever.”

[recollins]

Doctor’s Doctor (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Request: Could you do a Reid x reader where he has a secret significant other who is a surgeon or doctor? Pairing: Spencer x Neutral Reader Length: 4,568 Contains: Fluff, angst if you squint Warnings: None A/N: I have exactly no knowledge of medical procedures or the actual inner workings of a hospital. All of my knowledge for this was based off of my Scrubs obsession from like 2005 and harassing my CNA sister. Do not hold me to accuracy on any of it. Masterlist

--

Spencer was a notorious worrier. There was no denying that, no matter how much he tried to do so. From the amount of germs gathered during his commute to and from work, to the reliability of your alarm system that had gone out on more than one occasion, he always had something nagging at the back of his conscience.

After almost six months with your boyfriend, you’d grown used to his constant concerns. Overall, they didn’t bother you, despite his predictable worry that it did. Honestly, you found it endearing. You’d never really had anyone take an interest on your wellbeing the way he did, and it was just another reason to love him.

Though he wouldn’t admit it, you knew it stemmed from what he saw on the cases he faced. He’d tell you about the better cases, the ones they’d closed with minimal loss or the ones that hadn’t ended as badly as it could’ve, but he never spoke about the ones that didn’t have a reasonably decent ending. The ones that put the heavy, unyielding sadness on his shoulders that took his smile for days. The ones that woke him screaming in the middle of the night, leaving his bright golden eyes dull and haunted until you finally managed to lull him back to sleep.

He wouldn’t speak of them, but you could put the pieces together with the measures he started to implement into your life. When you’d first started dating, your own safety wasn’t something you ever really took into consideration, most evident by your old garage door.

Your house was pretty old – which is how you’d gotten such a good deal on it – and as you weren’t much of a do-it-yourself kind of person, you’d never put much effort into updating or remodeling the more outdated parts of your home. Most notably, your garage door was still the original one installed in the late 60’s. It was so old it wasn’t even automated; heck, it didn’t even actually lock. Since you had to manually open and close it, if you were in a hurry you’d just leave it open when you went to work.

Spencer nearly had a heart attack when he’d first found out.

He’d then hired a company to install a brand new door – complete with securing locks and an entry keypad – and spent an entire weekend testing and re-testing, ensuring you were safe. Ensuring you wouldn’t meet the same fate you guessed others had met on his last case.

“Double-check that it shuts all the way, and doesn’t go back up before you leave,” he’d told you numerous times, demonstrating exactly how to do it over and over again.  “Always watch when it shuts to make sure no one slips inside.”

Two months ago he’d replaced the GPS in your car, explaining the model you’d had was susceptible to being hacked. That one you hadn’t fully understood – so what if someone hacked it? All they’d get are some addresses you’d gone to.

“What are they going to do with that, Spence? Figure out I spend way too much time at Target?”

You’d asked it to joke with him, trying to get a smile on his face for the first time that day. Though he tried to turn away before it showed, you caught the ache of regret in his gaze before he dropped it to the ground.

“Yes,” was all he had managed to force out, but it was all you needed to hear to understand why he was so worried. Since then, you didn’t question him. Though he couldn’t take back what had happened to the victims his team couldn’t save, he could keep it from happening to you. Worrying over your safety helped alleviate some of the guilt and sorrow that had taken up permanent residence inside him, you knew that much.

If it eased Spencer’s mind, it was worth the constant concern he showered you with. That’s what you repeated to yourself as, for the third time that week, you set off your own alarm trying to get into your house at just a little past two in the morning.

Cursing under your breath, you finally got the damn door open and rushed to the keypad on the wall, punching in the code Spencer had set up for you. Unsurprisingly, you got it wrong. He’d picked a completely random string of numbers, reminding you how easy it was to guess someone’s password or code because they made it personal.  

There was only about fifteen seconds left before the system would alert the company, and that was the last thing you needed right now. Dropping everything in your arms to the floor, you jammed in the next six numbers you thought it was .

ERROR – WRONG CODE

“For the absolute love of fuck,” you snarled, going for another attempt. Your phone was ringing before you’d even hit the third number. With a tired sigh you propped the phone on your ear and muttered out a weary, “hello again.”

“Hi, this is Macy from ADT. We see your alarm was triggered and we were calling to ensure you were alright.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” you assured, still jamming numbers. Your phone beeped, and a quick glance confirmed Spencer was trying to reach you. “My boyfriend set up my passcode so well that even I can’t crack it.”

Macy chuckled on the other end and quickly ran through the security questions (that thankfully you’d set up) and in a few minutes the alarm silenced. Spencer had already attempted calling another two times, and if you didn’t hurry he’d show up there himself. Not that you didn’t want to see him, but you both were in desperate need of sleep with how hectic your work had been lately.

“Would you like to change your passcode?” Macy offered, and though it was tempting, you knew Spencer would be upset.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks so much,” you rushed, as Spencer called for the fifth time. You quickly accepted the call and said instantly, “I’m fine, Spence. I’m perfectly fine.”

On the other end of the phone you heard him give a sigh of relief, and you smiled just a bit. His care always touched you and settled the irritation. You’d never been in a relationship with someone who cared about you as much as you did them, and despite the annoyance you really did love how much he cared.

“I’m sorry,” he told you instantly, his voice sounding rough with sleep. “I know this happens a lot –“

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” you promised, scooping up your discarded things from the floor and shuffling yourself into the kitchen, dumping them all onto the counter now. “I’m sorry I woke you up again.”

It was a real pain, having the company call your emergency contact every time this happened. But, just like all the other occasions, Spencer assured immediately, “don’t be. I’d rather be woken by a false alarm than by hearing you were hurt.”

The smile toying on your face couldn’t be helped, and you both sat in warm silence for a few moments. As much as you’d like to talk with your boyfriend – especially after the chaotic night at the hospital you’d just had – you knew how exhausted he had to be.

“You should be sleeping,” you murmured after a few more moments. When he didn’t respond at first, you thought he’d actually fallen asleep. And then, in the background, you heard the sound of someone crying. “Spencer?”

“It’s – that’s Henry,” he mumbled as you heard him get up. You could just picture him rubbing at his eyes as he yawned and explained, “Will and JJ wanted some time alone so I took him for the night. I… think he might be getting sick.”

Your eyes narrowed as you leaned back against the counter. Sure, you weren’t a profiler, but you knew your boyfriend, and you knew that tone of voice. That was his ‘knee-deep in the pit of worry’ voice. The only person he was more protective of than you was his godson.

“You were already awake when ADT called, weren’t you?” He didn’t answer immediately and that confirmed your suspicion. You let out a heavy sigh as you chastised, “Spencer. You just got back from a case and you’ve been up for almost twenty-four hours –”

“He had a fever when I put him to bed,” he defended as you heard him open the door.

“It’s common for children’s temperatures to rise a bit at night,” you reminded him. “And kids his age are prone to colds, which is nothing some sleep can’t help.”

“It wasn’t there this afternoon, though,” he persisted; you could hear the beep of the thermometer, and instead of arguing with him (which you’d learned was a fruitless edeaver not even an hour into your first date) you stayed quiet until you heard it beep again.

“What’s his temp?” you prompted; there was no reply. “Spencer.”

“99.9,” he mumbled. “But that’s higher than it was an hour ago –“

“Does he have any other symptoms?” Again, there was silence. If you could’ve reached through the phone to smack him you would’ve. “Spencer –“

“He didn’t eat as much at dinner,” he finally replied, and you heard him put a hand over the phone as he asked softly, “Henry, does anything hurt?”

There was a tearfully mumbled no and you stifled a sigh, dropping your head back to stare at the ceiling. This man was gonna worry himself to death before he even reached forty. “Okay, Spence. Give him some Tylenol and get him to drink some water. If there are no other symptoms present, he probably just has a cold. It could even be allergies, and he’s just uncomfortable.”

He was quiet at first; you heard him walking down the hall, and then the snap of a light. A moment later he was rifling through what you assumed to be a medicine cabinet as he finally said meekly, “I’m sorry. I know I’m overreacting –“

“Hey. It’s fine. You’re just concerned,” you reminded him gently. “But between the almost back-to-back cases you’ve been working and now me setting off my alarm every other night, you’re wearing yourself out.”

Spencer was quiet again, and you knew him well enough to know he was trying to think of a way to refute what you’d just said. Thankfully though, whether it was the exhaustion or a hint of rationality surfacing, he finally gave a sigh and just mumbled, “I know. You’re right.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you teased, playful smile taking over. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Finally, you got a laugh out of your boyfriend. He chuckled into the phone, and you easily pictured the bright, toothy grin he was flashing as he huffed, “I know you heard me.”

“Huh, did I? You’ll have to remind me what I heard…”

“I’m not repeating it,” he giggled. You heard Henry’s door opening again and he said a little softer, “I’ve kept you up long enough. I’ll get Henry to sleep and I’ll lay down. I promise.”

“Good. I want you to try and get at least a couple hours of sleep, alright? Doctor’s orders.”

Spencer gave another soft chuckle as he assured, “I’ll give it my best shot, given Henry stays asleep.”

“Alright, baby. I’m gonna go shower and lay down,” you told him, making the executive decision to leave all your crap on the kitchen counter until after you’d slept. “I’ll text you when I’m up. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Spencer murmured, the smile clear in his voice. It was still a relatively new thing to say, and you both got a little giddy every time. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“’Night, Spence.”

Smiling to yourself as you finally hung up, you checked the time and groaned. It was just a few minutes shy of 3am now, and you had to be up in four hours for your next shift. The hospital was ridiculously understaffed; you’d been working overtime just to make sure there was coverage.

Honestly, it was a miracle you’d even gotten to leave tonight. You were pretty sure that if one of the nurses had caught you before you reached the door, you’d still be at work. As much as you wanted to pass out right away, you forced yourself to shower. Finally, ten minutes later you were collapsing into your bed, falling asleep almost the second your head hit the pillow.

Your phone was ringing what felt like only minutes later. Groaning, terrified it was the hospital calling you back in already, you blindly pulled your phone off the charger and dropped it onto the mattress, laying your head on top of it, too tired to hold it up.

“This is Dr. Y/L/N –“

“Y/N,” Spencer’s panicked voice interrupted. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but Henry’s gotten worse.”

It took every shred of self-restraint to hold back the groan of pure frustration. Wearily, you peeled an eye open and peeked at the clock on your nightstand. 3:58am stared back at you. “Spencer it hasn’t even been an hour –“

“He threw up twice, and he says his stomach really hurts,” he rushed, his voice pinched and at least two octaves higher than normal. “His fever’s at 100.8, it’s going up quickly –“

“Hey, okay, okay,” you said quickly, forcing yourself to sit up so you didn’t doze off, the symptoms starting to float around in your groggy head. Escalating fever, nausea, vomiting, stomach pain… those weren’t a good combination. “Alright. Spence, take a breath.”

“Y/N, I’m worried about –“

“I know. But I need you to calm yourself down,” you insisted. Spencer huffed at you – and you rolled your eyes at his stubbornness – but you heard him take in a deep breath and blow it out. “Alright. One more.”

He did as he was told, and when he started speaking again his voice was at least a little less panicked. “I – should I take him to the ER? He’s gotten a lot worse and he’s crying, but I don’t want to worry Will and JJ if I’m just overreacting –“

This time, you were worried he wasn’t, and it’d be quicker to diagnose him instead of having them hole up in the ER. You were already slipping on your sneakers and tugging a sweater out of your closet to throw on over your pajama top. The sweats you had would have to do; you didn’t have the energy to put real pants on.

“Text me their address,” you cut in as you jogged down the steps, swinging through the kitchen to snag your pile of necessities from the counter. At least the laziness paid off; you didn’t have to go hunting for your crap.

You heard the ping of a text as you got into the car, and Spencer’s voice was back a moment later. “Thank you so much. I’m sorry. I know you’re so tired –“

“Spence, really. It’s okay,” you said gently, glancing at the address and typing it in. “My GPS says I’ll be there in about ten minutes. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

“Drive safe,” he told you instantly, and then before hanging up he reminded you, “be sure your garage door shuts all the way.”

The little bit of irritation that had risen up was put out instantly, smile tugging your lips up as you watched the door shut all the way. Despite the exhaustion, you knew this was how Spencer expressed his love. Making sure he and Henry were alright was the least you could do to show him you loved him just as much.

--

Spencer had the door open before you even finished knocking, pulling you into a hug you both really needed. He clung to you, face burying into your neck for several moments before he mumbled,

“I really am sorry, Y/N. You’re so tired and if this is nothing –“

You pulled back and wordlessly cupped his face, pulling him in for a hard kiss. He relaxed under your touch almost instantly, his hand flitting up to wrap around your wrists, keeping your hold on him.

You broke from the kiss just enough to murmur, “Spencer, I don’t know how else to say it, but I’m being completely honest when I say it’s okay. You’re not overreacting. Henry’s worsened and it’s a legitimate cause for concern. You have every right to worry.”

Spencer nodded, his nose brushing yours, thankfully not picking up on the undertones of genuine concern in your voice. You didn’t want to worry him unnecessarily, but you’d seen these symptoms so frequently you were almost certain this was well-deserving of his panic.

You didn’t pull out of Spencer’s hold; you never did. It was an unspoken rule that it was never you that cut off contact. He wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, but when he was, you never wanted to be the one to push him away or shut him down when he needed you. When he finally did release your wrists to step back, you swept your thumbs over his cheekbones, comforting him before motioning for him to lead the way.

Henry was curled up on the corner of a dark blue couch, clinging to a stuffed Spider-Man toy as he whimpered into the cushion. Kneeling in front of him, you gave a warm smile as you reached out and swept his hair back, feeling his forehead.

Way too warm, you noted; before you could even ask, Spencer was holding out the thermometer. He sat beside Henry at his legs, and despite the pain he was clearly in, Henry instantly shuffled himself around to lay his head on Spencer’s lap, one of his hands coming to tangle into his pajama pants.

Your entire heart melted instantly, seeing the two of them together. You’d never seen Spencer with kids, but it had instantly become one of the top five most beautiful views in the world.

“This is my friend, Dr. Y/N,” he introduced, his large hand settling on Henry’s side, rubbing soothingly. “We need to take your temperature again, okay?”

Henry sniffled and nodded, opening his mouth. As you started the thermometer, you shifted a little closer and said, “Hi Henry. I hear your tummy hurts.”

He gave a small nod, and when the thermometer beeped he reached up and held it out to you as he whimpered, “it hurts real bad.”

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good,” you apologized as you took a quick look at his temperature. 101.2. That wasn’t good. “Henry, can I take a look at your tummy really quick?”

With another small nod, you and Spencer helped him roll onto his back. Even just that small movement had more tears flowing, his little face screwed up as he turned and buried it against Spencer’s thigh.

There was no doubt in your mind now, but just to be thorough, you pressed lightly against the right side of his stomach. He let out a yelp of pain, and that was all you needed. Spencer caught the look on your face as you got to your feet.

“Spence, can you set up Henry’s car seat in my car?” you asked, keeping your voice calm so you didn’t panic the tearful little boy staring up at you with wide, worried eyes. Picking up on your demeanor, Spencer said gently,

“Of course. Henry, I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay Uncle Spencer,” he mumbled, allowing himself to be settled back on the couch. The moment he grabbed the car seat, Spencer all but sprinted outside. You tugged out your phone, moving to stand in the hall while keeping an eye on Henry as you dialed the nurse on call.

“Hey, Ashley, it’s Dr. Y/L/N. I know I’m not scheduled until seven, but there’s an emergency and I’ll be bringing in a patient,” you explained hastily. With the hospital so understaffed, even with priority it might take a while for Henry to be taken care of. You’d be his surgeon today.

“Is everything alright?” she asked hastily; you heard her already assembling the paperwork you needed.

“I’ll need an operating room and a team ready to perform an appendectomy.”

--

The sun was just coming through the window of the post-op room, illuminating Henry’s sleeping figure in a soft orange glow. You’d stopped in on your way to the waiting room, just to make sure he was okay.

Ashley held his chart out to you and you gave her a smile of thanks as she said, “I know it’s usually me talking to the family, but since this is personal I figured you’d want to do it. I’ll stay here with him for now, he should be up pretty soon.”

“You’re the best,” you said, giving her arm a thankful squeeze before you made your way to find Spencer and a couple of very concerned parents.

This wasn’t how you and Spencer had planned to introduce you to his team; he’d wanted you to come to one of their dinner parties in a few weeks to meet everyone at once. Though it was sudden and unexpected, you’d be lying to say you weren’t eager to meet JJ and Will. She was his best friend and after all you’d heard about both of them you were more than ready to make introductions.

The first waiting room only held a sleeping couple and a frantic woman pacing around the chairs. As you got closer to the second room, though, several different voices could be heard. When you stepped into the room, though, you hadn’t been prepared to see every member of Spencer’s team gathered inside.

He’d shown you dozens of pictures, and it wasn’t hard to match the faces to names. Penelope had to be the extremely colorful woman in a seat against the far wall, leaning on a painfully attractive man you instantly recognized as Morgan. Two older gentleman – Hotch on the left and Rossi on the right – were standing aside, talking casually with one another, their eyes on the panicked couple across from them.

Will and JJ were on the edge of their seats, hands clasped together as they talked quietly with a women who was unmistakably Emily. She was the first to spot you, brows raising in question. You cleared your throat and asked,

“Henry LaMontagne?”

All seven heads snapped to you instantly, catching you off-guard. You met each stare briefly before an eighth head popped out from behind Hotch and Rossi. Spencer looked exhausted, but his soft brown eyes lit up seeing you.

“Y/N, how is he?” he asked, hurrying out of his chair and coming around to you. JJ and Will got up as well, and though they were focused on you, you didn’t miss the way the rest of the team was looking between you and your boyfriend.

“He’s just fine,” you assured, and everyone visibly relaxed. “Thanks to Spencer, we got him here before his appendix burst and the surgery went through without a hitch. We’ll have to keep him overnight – it’s just normal procedure after an emergency surgery – but he’ll be good to go home tomorrow morning.”

Spencer moved unexpectedly, his arms instantly encircling you and pulling you into a tight hug. For a quiet, blissful moment the chaos of the morning came to a halt. Instead of panic and exhaustion and worry, it was just the two of you, caught up in your own world, both relaxing into one another after the last few grueling hours.

“Thank you so much for all you did,” he murmured against your neck, pressing a swift kiss against it as he reluctantly pulled back, smiling up at you with nothing short of love in his eyes. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

You went to answer when a throat cleared from behind Spencer. Your boyfriend’s eyes slowly widened in realization, as if he’d just remembered the other people around you two. When he turned and stepped aside, you saw the rest of his team watching you both with grins.

Spencer’s ears and cheeks were flushed a dark pink, and you knew your own face wasn’t any different. Morgan was the first to move, stepping up and clapping your boyfriend on the shoulder as he looked between the two of you.

“Well, well, well. Look’s like the doctor’s got himself a doctor.”

Spencer, bless his adorable heart, was still at a loss for words. Whether it was the lack of sleep, the adrenaline of the last few hours finally wearing off, or the buzz of what you guessed was probably way too much caffeine (because you knew he’d been abusing the free coffee down the hall), you really couldn’t say. All he managed was a quick nod, and then a feeble attempt of,

“This – um, Y/N is my doctor – no, wait. So, we’ve been dating, um –“

With a laugh, you reached out and squeezed Spencer’s hand and then held your other out to Morgan. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N.” After a brief moment of deliberation, you grinned and added, “I’m the doctor’s doctor.”

The others laughed as you shook their hands briefly before turning to Will and JJ.

“I’m sure Henry’s awake by now. If you’d like, we can go check on him and I’ll have my nurse bring your entourage to meet us in his room.”

“That’d be fantastic,” JJ sighed, looping you into a hug of your own as Will rubbed her back soothingly, smiling in thanks at you. “Really, we’re so glad you dropped everything to help Henry.”

Giving her a hug of reassurance, you motioned for her and Will to start down the hall. Before you got more than a step and a half, Spencer’s hand had caught your own. When you turned to him, you were surprised to see the characteristic frown of worry on his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked quickly, looking between his soft hazel eyes, concern of your own starting to spark.

“I just – is this okay? This was all so sudden, you just got thrown into the middle of everything, I didn’t give you any warning to meet everyone and –“

“And you know what?” you cut in gently, and he tipped his head a hint in question. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“Really?” he asked softly, a small smile peeking through his frown. “I just… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or… or scare you off.”

“You don’t need to worry, Spence. Really.” He raised his brows and gave a pointed glance around us, and I let out a laugh. “Okay, okay. Garage doors and sick kids are one thing, but me leaving you? Never. You’re sort of stuck with me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he teased, and to your surprise, he leaned down and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to your lips before stepping back. “For the record, though, I now have proof that I don’t always worry too much.”

Well, shit. He had a point. Rolling your eyes, you made down the hall after JJ and Will, shaking your head at Spencer as he started down the hall for the coffee machine. Alright, if his constant anxieties didn’t send him to an early grave, the ungodly amount of caffeine he consumed certainly would.

You’d save that to worry about for another day.  

[laguera25]

An Open Letter to Richard Z. Kruspe on the Occasion of His 54th Birthday

When I was born, ten weeks prematurely and weighing a scant two-and-a-half pounds, the doctors told my parents not to bother naming me, as I would likely die very quickly, and even if I were to survive, I would likely be blind and helpless and profoundly retarded, unaware of, and unable to engage with, the world around me. Best to leave me be and let nature take its course. A few days of benign neglect, and it would all be over. If they were fortunate, there would be other, better children.

Fortunately for me, my parents gave the double-fingered salute to that bit of medical advice and took me home to do the best they could with very little money and no one to guide them through the strange and terrible country of life with a disabled child. I survived because my very country grandmother chucked out the baby formula that I wasn't digesting and fed me the cow's milk the doctors so solemnly swore would kill me.

There was so many milestones I missed, and of which my parents were deprived. I didn't sit up by myself until I was two. I never walked, never ran, though there are a few faded photos of me gamely pulling myself upright on chairs and the edges of coffee tables, trying to do what my brain said I ought, but my body too weak and miswired too obey. No play with other children, who were stronger and more rambunctious and would have bowled me over in all innocence. And as I grew older, no first dates or driving tests or prom dresses. No thought of an independent life.

What there was was endless rounds of physical and occupational therapy. Hours and hours on a brown vinyl mat, trying to lift my leg or raise my ass off the ground or make my hand write the words in my head. Hours and hours putting change into a slot or trying to tie shoelaces or forcing my hands into uncomfortable plastic splints for a chance at a fraction of more bodily control. While my school friends were out playing in the sun, I was inside beneath fluorescent lights, learning to button my shirt and comb my hair and brush my teeth. To hold a pencil. No time for joy, for peace, for figuring out who I was beyond this collection of aches and pains and deficiencies, just the endless tedium of learning to "be normal" and less of an imposition on the world around me.

And I did go to school. Despite the doctors' dire predictions, I was neither blind nor idiot. I was perfectly aware of the world around me, and smart. So much so that when I was nine, the school ordered an intelligence test. The score was so high that they thought it an error and made me take it again in front of witnesses. When the same score came back the second time, they wanted to move me two years ahead, but my mother, afraid it would both isolate me further and give me airs, refused. So, I stayed, face in the mat and hands in splints, learning advanced history and English, yet forced to put blocks into holes and put colored rings on a stick.

And so I lived this strange paradox for my entire childhood, the genius child that my mother crowed about to all her friends and anyone who would listen, and terrible burden who still had the coordination of a toddler, and who had ruined her dreams of ribbons and curls. When I was nine, she was convinced I could be made "normal"--or closer to it--any road, with a surgery. And so, the surgeons detached the muscles and ligaments in my legs from the bones and stretched them in an effort to relieve the spasticity. The surgeons were doing a kindness to relieve pain; by then, the muscles were so tight that when I was stood on my feet and held up, my feet rolled onto the instep and my knees pointed at each other. It was a measure of dignity.

To my mother, it was supposed to be a miracle, the cure that gave her the daughter she deserved.

I woke up screaming. The muscles and ligaments were unhappy with their new positions and weren't afraid to register their protest about this new state of affairs. They tried to administer morphine, but the levels needed to control the pain were dangerously high for a child, and so I was left to ride it out. I screamed and screamed and screamed. For thirteen hours.

My mother. who was so sure she had found her miracle, was taken into another room by an exhausted surgeon who had done the best he could, and told that at most, I might be able to walk across the room on a walker and take myself to the toilet. She screamed, too, then, at this man who had been on his feet for nine hours, trying to undo the mistakes of the hands that had formed me from the dust of the ground, and who would try to make me laugh every day when he came to check my progress. She called him a liar and a bastard and a son of a bitch, and family lore has it that she would have hit him had my father not intervened.

They tried to tell her. Kindly and patiently and incessantly, but she would not listen. God had told her I would be cured, and dammit, I would be. The day they cut my casts off and sent me home, they told her not to push me too hard, that my muscles needed time to adjust and build endurance. She said she understood, but when we got home, she ordered me to walk uphill to the house. I tried, I truly did, but it wasn't long before I hit muscle fatigue and started to cry. I want to stop, wanted my wheelchair.

And my mother, this woman who had once told the doctors who would have let me die to go fuck themselves, picked up a stick and started to beat me. "Be normal! Be normal!" Screaming and sobbing and flailing with this stick, and me screaming and begging and trying to stay upright. I don't know how long she would've kept going, but eventually, my stepfather appeared, wrested the stick away and threatened to beat her with it, and carried me into the house.

Here I must give my mother a sliver of credit even if I will carry the memory of that beating for the rest of my days. She was right, after a fashion. I did do more than walk across the room with a walker and take myself to the toilet. For a while, I even graduated to forearm crutches and quad canes, which might not sound like much, but when you were expected to do nothing, that's like climbing Everest in your underpants. My wheelchair gathered dust for years, but soon I had to choose between the demands of my education and the demands of my body. The latter simply lacked the energy to fuel both my mind and my muscles to the best of my their abilities, and since school was the only area of life in which I had ever excelled, there was no choice at all. Back into the chair I went. By the time I graduated high school, I could no longer use crutches, and by my third year at uni, even the walker was too much. These days, I cannot move myself without help, and arthritis has set in. I made my choice, and now I pay its price.

I tell you all of this to illustrate that whatever the fool doctors might have said as they clucked and tutted over my incubator, I was keenly aware of the world. Of everything I was missing while my mother insisted I just bootstrap myself out of my disability and be normal. Of her seething resentment of all that I was not. Of her wish that I was someone else.

There were two bands that got me through, kept me sane and kept me moving when all I wanted to do was just lie down and not get up. The first was Metallica, whom I discovered at thirteen, and who told me it was all right to be angry about my circumstances, to kick and scream and argue with God and call him a rotten bastard--as long as I kept living, kept getting up in the morning and trying to inch down the road. I didn't have to swallow my anger for fear of upsetting God and hurting my mother's chances of getting into heaven(my mother believes that I am a test she must pass in order to get into heaven; therefore, my suffering is irrelevant and should never be questioned, lest it anger Him. Don't ask; I don't get it.)

If Metallica was the band that gave me permission to be angry as long as I kept trying, it was Rammstein that told me it was okay to want more from life than an endless regimen of therapy and prayer and gratitude to a God that had, or so it seemed to me, sent me into the world with a ramshackle body and precious little armor or defense against the assholery of my fellow human beings and yet still expected me to praise His holy name allelu. To want joy and friends and human contact. To have a libido and ogle whatever flipped my switches. To, in short, be human, and more than just a symbol of all my mother's broken hopes.

I discovered the band through a book, believe it not. I found a copy of Tom Reynolds' <i>Touch Me, I'm Sick</i> in a Barnes and Noble I had gone into to browse and hide from a cataclysmic thunderstorm, and in it, he began to talk about a band called Rammstein and a song called "Heirate Mich." The more I read, the more gloriously improbable it all seemed, and the harder I laughed. By the time I got to the line, "As the music pounds like a collapsing factory...", there were tears streaming down my face, and I was having trouble breathing. The saleslady must've worried I was having a stroke.

And so it was that I found the key to everything that would come after. From the book to my creaking dial-up Internet(don't laugh, it was what I could afford as a broke-ass cripple on the government dole) to the CD shop, where I blew my food budget on Rammstein CDs and lived on Hamburger Helper for weeks. This is a terrible dietary choice, by the way, but at least I had Rammstein music in my ears all day, every day. A few weeks later, I put another dent in my food budget buying all the DVDs. Ah, the vigor and stupidity of youth. If I tried that foolery now, I'd be semiconscious on the floor in a day and a half. Back then, I had a more stalwart constitution.

I knew by the second song I heard that Rammstein was going to be special to me. My German, which consisted of a year of study in high school and a disastrous two years in college, was pretty poor, but thanks to snooping around Internet forums and squinting at grainy videos, I knew much of your catalogue dealt with taboo subjects. I didn't care. For all its dark subject matter, the music made me want to dance. It made me feel something other than apathy and a persistent wish for this whole mess to be over and my soul to be recycled into a body that didn't make me want to scream until I was too tired to do anything but sleep.

And I did dance. Constantly. Seldom in public because dancing in a wheelchair often looks like the Devil is trying to stick his finger up your ass, but often at home, just shimmying away until the chair developed some alarming creaks and the bolts needed adjustment. Rammstein made me happy. It made me curious. It made me want to see just how much was out there.

And, if I am honest, it made me want to see those silver MC Hammer pants for myself. The combination of those pants and the diaper rash cream in your hair was a striking look for you, if I may say so, though perhaps not so grand as the black spikes and the lion pants you wore with such swaggering panache on the Reise, Reise tour. Alas, this was not to be, as I suppose you had wearied of slathering ass cream for infants in your hair. I can't blame you, though I suppose it must've been a sad day, indeed, for the ointment companies. Still, those Hammer pants and their Reynolds Wrap, space-age splendor will always hold a special place in my heart.

Stymied in my hope to witness for myself the wonders of those Hammer pants--and those lion pants as well, as it turned out, oh, unhappy hour, long may they reign in the storage closet--I nonetheless wanted to see a Rammstein show. Not much chance of that, the morose American fans assured me. The band hadn't come here since they foolishly took the American commitment to freedom of expression at face value and Till and Flake landed in the Puritan pokey for playing Loose the Dachshund into the Badger Burrow in front of delighted fans. Besides, the band's management had scant interest in repeating that little experiment.

Even so, I held out hope. I hung out on message boards and kept me ear to the ground. You can imagine my delight when the MSG show was announced. I wasn't so foolish as to think I could attend, mind you; New York might as well have been the moon for someone who cannot safely fly, but it was fun to indulge in a bit of wistful what-if? What if I could find a way to get there that wouldn't give me a lethal clot? What if I could score tickets? What if I could afford a hotel in Manhattan where the rats and roaches wouldn't kill me in my sleep or carry me off to be devoured in the sewer system? These were all very big ifs for someone who lived in the boonies and was only supposed to spend money on medical expenses and basic bills. Besides, MSG was going to sell out before I could gimp my way to the phone.

Knowing all of this, I took to my blog to whine and moan and feel sorry for myself. It wasn't fair, I whinged to the ether. I had wanted to see Rammstein for so long, but it just wasn't possible. It was too expensive and too far and too haaaaard. And woe is me.

And then...

And then...

And then a bossy German lady dropped a punk alarm in my inbox.

I don't remember now how or why she came to my blog. Maybe she was drawn by an unconventional perspective on life and fandom and moving through the world, or maybe she just wanted to snortle at my friend and I's discussions of your sartorial splendor and the ridiculous dramas going on in the Rammstein fandom at the time. Either way, she'd been been watching my sulking and stropping for a few days, until she'd reached her limit and this woman, who had never said an unkind word to me in years, called me a coward. Just straight up said that I could either find my spine, stop pissing and moaning, and try my hardest to see Rammstein in New York, or I could keep being a coward and making excuses. But make my choice and stop sniveling because she was tired of hearing about it.

At first, I was stunned. Of all the things I had ever been called, a coward was not one of them. Then I was mad. How DARE she call me a coward when she had no idea how much pain I was in most of the time or how difficult it was to move around a world that had never been designed for me and been but grudgingly retrofitted by handymen who thought that grab bars fixed everything!

So I stewed and pouted for a few hours, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. I hadn't tried very hard to research my options. I hadn't checked hotels or called the venue or gotten my finances in order. I had claimed Rammstein was so important and meaningful to me, but I hadn't shown it. I had assumed defeat before I'd even started the charge up the the hill and wallowed in self-pity. Sure, maybe I was right and I wouldn't be able to go, but I'd never know if I didn't square up and try.

Before I proceed, a word about the tried-and-true deutscher Fuss zum Arsch(not another aside in a letter full of them, I hear you cry as your eyes begin to glaze. I know, Mr. Kruspe, believe me, but if you speak to the world through your guitar strings, I speak through my keystrokes, and so I beg your patience. We're almost there.). If a German you have gotten to know puts their foot up your ass and calls you on your bullshit, they are not doing it to be a prick, and it's not done with the intent to create hard feelings or demolish your self-esteem. It's harsh, man, is it harsh when you're used to American doublespeak and soft-pedaling, but they're doing it because they see something in you and are trying to stop you from making a dumbass or a jackwagon of yourself. They're doing it because they want to keep being your friend.

So.

Punk alarm duly dropped and head dislodged from ass, I started making phone calls. To the banks do get my money in order. To bean counters to make sure I would have access to it. To Amtrak to discuss their booking options. I went to disability websites and forums to discuss precautions to take in case my health or my equipment gave out on the road. The best hospital for the broke-ass should I get mown down by a taxi while trying to cross the road. Emergency numbers and insurance forms and blah blah blah. A raft of bureaucracy and safeguards and double-checking, all for a concert I might not get tickets for.

But I did, because for once, my disability worked in my favor. MSG sold out in twenty-five minutes, but that venue, bless its heart, doesn't put disabled seating up for general sale. You have to call the disabled patron assistance line, and they don't release unsold disabled seats for general sale until three days before a show. So I called the magic line, and a very amiable fellow talked me through the process. Two weeks later, the tickets were in my mailbox.

I am not ashamed to tell you that when I opened the envelope and held the tickets in my hand, I screamed like a debutante that sat on an upturned spoon. It was really happening.

And yes, my German friend gave me a giant "I told you so!" But she was right, and she'd earned it. Besides, she was happy for me, too.

So I did it. I got on a train(where I soon learned that accessible or not, I couldn't use the toilet because the train swayed too much for me to keep my balance), and I went without eating, drinking, or urinating for twenty-two hours(I do not recommend this to anyone, by the by. It hurt, and it was dangerous)to get to New York. And when I got there, I stood in Penn Station and simply stared because I was somewhere I never thought I'd be. It was simultaneously everything I thought it would be and nothing like I'd expected.

There were still obstacles, of course. There always are when you have two hands and four wheels and see the world through asses and elbows. Clutching my luggage while my trusty and ever-present companion pushed me over the cracked sidewalk with one hand and dragged the rest of the luggage behind him. Finding out that the "accessible" hotel room was, in fact, not all that accessible and wrenching my knee every time I used the toilet. Being accosted by my first sidewalk screamer within ten minutes of being in the city. Meeting my first hustler.

Freezing my ass off outside the venue for four hours before the show and called not fan enough by other fans because I didn't do it for fourteen, because hey, if you were really a fan, you'd risk pneumonia to see the show, even if it would kill you. Being shunted and shuffled to four different doors by event staff because no one could agree on where the disabled fans were supposed to enter. Being let into the building to warm up by an MSG employee, only to be booted out by event staff three minutes later. Whee! Aren't the logistics of being disabled fun?

But Mr. Kruspe, it was all worth it. I've never felt an energy like that before. Whatever snitty elitism some of the fans might have been nursing outside, inside MSG, we were all fans, all people who had waited and wished for this for a very long time. The primal roar from the crowd when the band began to break through the wall raised the hairs on my nape, and you'd better believe that I joined them with all of my energy.

From the first note, I forgot my pain. It was still there, mind, waiting for me, black-toothed and patient as the grave, but I was beyond it, in a state of suspended euphoria. No pain, just joy. I watched everything as best I could despite my near-sightedmess and my rather distant seat. I soaked it all in--the music and the unapologetic bombast, and the pageantry of the fire. It was all so starkly, darkly beautiful, and according to my companion, who has all the sentimentality of pavement, when he looked over at me during "Ich Will", I was "radiant." He, who had known me for thirteen years by then, said he'd never seen me like that before, and that he would never forget it.

It was not without price. These things never are. There was another train journey and another twenty-two hours without access to a toilet, and by the time I got home, I was so strung out from lack of food, water, and sleep(because trufax, it is hard to sleep when your bladder is trying to pop out of your skin from the pressure)that I cried like a toddler on the drive home. And then I went home, peed forever, drank, ate, and collapsed for seventeen hours.

But it was worth it. It was so worth it that on the band's next go-round, I took a cross-country roadtrip to Vegas, during which I peed much more often, thank God, but I also fought ants and roaches in a hotel room in Texas and stayed in a room so gross I slept in my clothes and threw them out when I got home. But it, too, was worth it, just as it was worth it to get in the car and drive to Florida and Atlanta on the next tour after that.

I told you ALL of these things, Mr. Kruspe, to tell you this. I saw your interview in that documentary about depression in 2010. I heard you say you felt worthless unless you were creating.

I don't know what you're worth to anyone else, but to me, you are priceless, and always will be. Without you, there would be no Rammstein, and for me, there would have been no reason to try, to spread my wings and take a run at that hill. Without you, I might have given up, might have let my mother win, and maybe now, I'd be sitting in some care home, stewing in my own yellowing stink and getting a bath once a week and a monthly outing and rotting from the inside out. Without you, I might never have taken the chance, never pushed myself.

But you were, and are, and because of that, I did. Because of that, I saw New York, and moved, however briefly, among that anonymous throng. Because of that, I met the sidewalk doomsayer and the exasperated hustler. Because of that, I tried New York Pizza(and yes, I saw a rat, but he minded his business, and I minded mine). Because of you, I heard a Cajun patois in Louisiana and watched out the window of the car as the Texas plains unwound around us. Because of you, I saw the night sky on the outskirts of Vegas and was escorted back to the Strip after the show by two Native dudes who walked far out of their way and called me little sister. These are gifts I got from you because you were, and are, and they have sustained me ever since. They sustain me now that my world has been reduced to the four walls of my house as I ride out the pandemic in a country that believes people like me are an acceptable sacrifice.

I know this won't change things for you, won't quiet that awful voice in your head. Depression doesn't work like that, and even if it did, I am just a stranger you will never meet. But maybe it will give you something to hang on to, something to think about on the bad days. Christ knows you kept my head above the water when all I wanted to do was let it go under.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Kruspe. May it bring you joy and all that you need.

Guera

[alixanonymous]

How A Demon Commissions An Angel ~ A Daminette FanFic ~ Chapter 9: An Opening For Options

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Sent you an email for Jason’s jacket. Had an idea I think you might like.

Mr. Postscript: I see popular culture references strike again.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Is that a problem? 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Cause I’m not even sure “Hit me with your best shot” would be considered a pop culture reference. I mean isn’t that song from like the 80’s?

Mr. Postscript: 1979 but I think it has less to do with when the source material was released and more with how often the reference is used in modern times, which in this case would be much too frequently.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Did google help you come to that conclusion?

Mr. Postscript: … 

Mr. Postscript: All online research must begin with the use of a search engine.

Mr. Postscript: At least I don’t use Wikipedia as a resource.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Everyone uses Wikipedia.

Mr. Postscript: Clearly not everyone. 

Mr. Postscript: … 

Mr. Postscript: Do you?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Of course! I even donate to them every now and then!

Mr. Postscript: I see. 

Mr. Postscript: I’m beginning to reconsider our friendship. 

Mr. Postscript: I just don’t know if I can forgive this egregious offense.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Really, Mr. Drama Queen? My friends and their interrogations won’t scare you off but my support of the largest archive of free information will?

Mr. Postscript: Your friends were perfectly in their rights to see if I was worthy of your friendship.

Mr. Postscript: I believe I passed the test.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You were great Damian! Honestly, thank you for putting up with them. Maybe you’re not as bad with people as you think.

Mr. Postscript: Yes, well it does help if they are more than three thousand miles away.

Mr. Postscript: There’s also the fact that I’ve admired Ms. Tsurgi’s fencing style for a while now which may have something to do with it. I’ve been following her career for years. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Damian, how do you know who she is? We never told you her last name.

Mr. Postscript: Right… 

Mr. Postscript: It may have come up in my initial search for your identity.

Mr. Postscript: I don’t imagine there are many girls your age named Kagami who know how to fence, live in Paris, and have close ties to your class.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, that explains that.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I mean it’s still pretty creepy mind you but I went into this friendship knowing how it started.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I guess it’s just weird to think that you know so much about me and I still know so little about you, not even your last name.

Mr. Postscript: You know more about me than anyone besides my family, angel. I wouldn’t want you knowing my last name to make you think differently.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Because you’re famous?

Mr. Postscript: In a way, yes. 

Mr. Postscript: You could probably find out who I was if you wanted, you have enough information to work with but I wish you wouldn’t. 

Mr. Postscript: I don’t think you’d like what you’d find.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Trust me, I know better than anyone that people sometimes only see what they want to. A little bad publicity won’t make me think differently of you. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Besides, I already told your brother, Damian. You get to decide what you tell me and when.

Mr. Postscript: I should’ve given you the same choice. If I’d known the kind of person you were beforehand, I would’ve.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: That’s the thing, you can’t know who people are before you get to know them. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You have to give people a chance, Dami.

Mr. Postscript: What if they end up being like Ms. Rossi?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: If we constantly think the worst of people, we’ll end up like Lila, calculating and manipulative.

Mr. Postscript: I suppose I see why you might think that. 

Mr. Postscript: You know… 

Mr. Postscript: If my family ever finds out how we met, I’d hate to have to deal with their disappointment. I think Todd already wants to adopt you. 

Mr. Postscript: Be on alert for another phone theft.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, they may never know. After all, they’ll get these amazing gifts for Christmas that will obviously show a lot of thought and consideration. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: They’ll never suspect we had a rocky start.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But back to the subject of amazing gifts, do you like the wording? Is it not his style?

Mr. Postscript: Oh, Todd will love having that across his back.

Mr. Postscript: I just have a question about the “o” in shot. It’s supposed to be a target right?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yes! Well sorta?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I want to make it look like a poker chip with a target on it.

Mr. Postscript: Oh. I can see that. Why a poker chip? I don’t recall it coming up in our earlier discussion.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I mean it did in a way.

Mr. Postscript: Oh? How so?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: The poker chip would be stitched on the back of his right shoulder meaning he’d have a chip on his shoulder.

Mr. Postscript: … 

Mr. Postscript: I approve the design. The double meaning in your designs will be incredibly entertaining for me every time I see my brothers wearing them.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, like I said. Subtle details are my specialty. But I don’t recall any double meaning in Grayson’s design.

Mr. Postscript: Right. 

Mr. Postscript: I stand corrected. I simply meant there are a lot of subtle details. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay! That reminds me! I’ve started Grayson’s sweater.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Just sent a progress update to your email.

Mr. Postscript: It’s looking exactly like your drawing. I approve the choice of yarn; the colors are appropriately vibrant.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Great!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So what were you thinking for Drake’s sweater?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I think I remember you mentioned a drawstring hood.

Mr. Postscript: I did, yes. However, I’ve been rethinking that idea.

Mr. Postscript: I can picture my family accusing me of trying to suffocate Drake.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, we wouldn’t want that!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You know maybe the “hit me with your best shot” thing wasn’t the best idea either.

Mr. Postscript: It’s not that concerning with Todd. I’m sure he’ll just love that across his back. Drake and I have a more complicated history.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Didn’t you say your inside jokes with Jason were your attempts on each other’s lives? 

Mr. Postscript: Yes but it’s Jason. He antagonizes everyone.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Got it. But Drake’s different?

Mr. Postscript: Yes. Everyone loves Drake. Well, except for Todd but we’ve established that Todd hates everyone.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So why are things complicated between you too?

Mr. Postscript: Correction: Two

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You know what? Okay. I stand corrected. Question still applies.

Mr. Postscript: I may have treated him poorly when I first joined the family. He was the most recent addition to my father’s collection of orphan children and I may have tried to claim his place in the family by forcibly removing him from it.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I see. So you felt threatened by his presence and handled it poorly?

Mr. Postscript: I would say that is a drastic yet not wholly inaccurate interpretation. 

Mr. Postscript: However, I’ve since realized that my initial concerns were unnecessary. Drake is a threat to no one but himself.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: But your family still holds it against you? They still think you might actually hurt him?

Mr. Postscript: Well, I was a bit extreme and while I no longer harbor the same intentions, no one could accuse us of being particularly warm.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I see. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Have you tried apologizing?

Mr. Postscript: You mean sincerely and not because father ordered me to?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yes. 

Mr. Postscript: Then no.

Mr. Postscript: However, before you begin what would surely be a fruitless campaign to get me to change that… 

Mr. Postscript: Might I remind you my family isn’t big on addressing our feelings? I believe Todd’s tried to hurt Drake before too and I highly doubt he ever issued an apology yet they seem to be on good terms again.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, as your resident people skills instructor, I think I’m supposed to give you some kind of advice like two wrongs not making a right but frankly I’ve begun to realize that is utter bullshit, pardon my english. So I can understand why an apology would not be on the table.

Mr. Postscript: I’ve never understood that saying and I’m glad that I will not have to hear it from you. 

Mr. Postscript: Do not mistake me, I understand the sentiment in a way however, I’ve always felt it to be too general and way too easy to use in a non-applicable, negative context.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Good to know where on the same page there.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Damian, I don’t mean to pry but can I ask you a question?

Mr. Postscript: You may ask and I may answer.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Do you feel like your family holds you to a higher standard?

Mr. Postscript: … 

Mr. Postscript: I don’t know if I’d call it a higher standard. 

Mr. Postscript: … 

Mr. Postscript: I simply have more to catch up on. I started with less knowledge of some basic things than the rest of my brothers. However, I wouldn’t say I’m treated differently in any case. You should see Todd and father argue sometime. 

Mr. Postscript: I just hate feeling behind. I’m used to being the best, the favorite like I was when I lived with my mother. So failing like I have recently has been frustrating, especially with what’s now on the line.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You mean the threat of moving?

Mr. Postscript: I wouldn’t call it a threat. I actually feel like I should mention that the place he wants to send me to is actually somewhere all my brothers have attended so it’s not like I’d be the first to go there in any case.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Oh, so it’s like a family tradition?

Mr. Postscript: I suppose you could say that.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So would going really be that bad?

Mr. Postscript: Honestly?

Mr. Postscript: In theory, it wouldn’t be the end of the world or anything. In actuality? I can’t imagine it would be pleasant.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay. If there’s one thing that makes you not want to go, what would it be?

Mr. Postscript: Is it not self-explanatory? Why would I want to start over again and lose all I’ve earned since coming here? I spent ten years of my life without my family, is it a crime to not want to waste any more?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, I would say that does sound rather awful to put it lightly but would it really be like that? I mean it’s not like you’re going off to war or anything, right? You’d still talk regularly and video chat and stuff?

Mr. Postscript: I’m sure we would, angel, but they’d still be here, all together and I’d be miles away, with only people I’d have no clue how to interact with for company.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Are you worried about feeling like an outsider again?

Mr. Postscript: No. 

Mr. Postscript: Not quite… 

Mr. Postscript: I’m more worried about feeling like a failure. Nothing is more shameful than being a disappointment. Especially when I have three brothers who aren’t even related to contend with that seem to be doing him proud. 

Mr. Postscript: Except for Todd but he’s turned disappointing father into its own type of game and at which he’s winning.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Aren’t your brothers older than you? And haven’t they been with your dad longer? Surely it doesn’t make sense to compare yourself to them?

Mr. Postscript: Please!

Mr. Postscript: When Drake was my age, father was already training him to take over the family business. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Damian, in any case it’s not a competition, right? You’re not competing with them for your father’s regard.

Mr. Postscript: Maybe that’s so. I still feel like I’m losing and I hate that.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yeah, I imagine you would.

Mr. Postscript: How helpful. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I mean, you’re always allowed to feel how you do.

Mr. Postscript: Thank you for the permission. I do so appreciate it.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, Mr. Sarcasm, do you really want to know what I think?

Mr. Postscript: … 

Mr. Postscript: Go on.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay, you might not want to hear this and of course this is just my opinion but it seems to me like you have really high expectations to meet, maybe they’re other people’s or maybe their your own. Whether or not you actually have to contend with your brother’s achievements, you obviously feel like you do and I can see how that would be hard to turn off. So maybe some distance from the situation would be a good thing?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I know that having to meet new people especially when socializing isn’t your strong suit sounds daunting but I kinda feel like you’re selling yourself short. Sure, you’ve had trouble in the past but you’ve made progress right? Moving to a new place doesn’t erase any of that. I get that the first time you had to start over was hard but now you’re older and wiser and have family to support you and a wonderful friend/moral compass to help you (aka me). Plus, I don’t know, it just feels like you’re really focused on doing what you think people expect of you and not what you really want for yourself. I don’t know, maybe some time away from expectations and legacies might give you some perspective. 

Mr. Postscript: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: … 

Mr. Postscript: Withdrawing now, giving up and moving on, wouldn’t that be like quitting? Is quitting not another form of losing?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: If you’re looking at it like that, I’d ask yourself this: Is winning worth it if you hate the game you’re playing?

Mr. Postscript: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: … 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So, totally overstepped there, didn’t I? Sorry!

Mr. Postscript: No need to apologize.

Mr. Postscript: I’m just not sure how I feel right now.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: That’s okay! I’m not trying to force you to make any big decisions right now or anything. If you just want some time to think, that’s cool. Whatever you end up doing, you deserve to have a choice in it so let’s come up with something for Drake’s sweater so your dad doesn’t force your hand okay?

Mr. Postscript: Okay.

Mr. Postscript: Marinette?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yes?

Mr. Postscript: Thank you. 

Mr. Postscript: Everything you’ve done and said so far has shown a level of care for me I’ve done nothing to deserve and I know you’re always just trying to help me and I'm very grateful. I just want you to know I will do my best to be as good a friend to you too.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I know, Damian. You may have your faults (we all do) but loyalty is not one of them. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: For whatever it’s worth, I think your family also wants what’s best for you like I do. It just has to be up to you to decide what that is.

Mr. Postscript: Right.

Mr. Postscript: Well for starters, I think it would be best for me to avoid being accused of attempting to suffocate Drake.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yeah, I agree.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: So would you want just a regular sweater for him then? Or I could make a drawstring hood that doesn’t close completely? I could make it so there’s always a gap left to breathe through.

Mr. Postscript: I like that last idea best. 

Mr. Postscript: My original vision was that Drake could easily shut out the world and fall asleep in it so we don’t have to deal with his insomniac coffee zombie antics all the time.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I want my business card to have “insomniac coffee zombie” on it.

Mr. Postscript: I highly doubt you’d get a lot of business that way. It’s a poor marketing strategy. It comes off as unprofessional.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Please, my clients are normally the reason I pull all nighters. I would give it credit for illustrating my dedication to my craft.

Mr. Postscript: Don’t get me started on Drake’s work ethic. 

Mr. Postscript: The thought that you and Drake might actually have a lot in common is quite unsettling. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Really, anything else we share besides a coffee addiction and ambition?

Mr. Postscript: Well, you both are child prodigies in a way. For all our differences, I can’t deny Drake has done much for father’s company at a young age and you have created a whole brand for yourself at only sixteen.

Mr. Postscript: I’d never thought about the logistics of balancing schoolwork and commissions. Is it difficult?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I mean, yes and no. There have been times when I stretched myself too thin and paid the price in sleepless nights. But that’s the perks on being your own boss I guess. I just learned to pace the commissions and be selective with my clientele. It’s worked pretty good so far.

Mr. Postscript: That’s a relief to hear. However I hope my order didn’t come in a bad time. Did you already have a lot on your plate?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Nah, I usually keep the holiday season light so I have time to make Christmas gifts. Although, I suppose that’s not as much of a concern this year.

Mr. Postscript: Oh?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Quite a few classmates have been crossed from the Christmas list this year.

Mr. Postscript: I see.

Mr. Postscript: I don’t know whether I feel happy or upset for you.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Ha! Me neither.

Mr. Postscript: I suppose it is both then. I am happy that you are standing up for yourself but upset that they have forced you to.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Thanks Damian. I can’t help but feel a bit like I’m being petty.

Mr. Postscript: Petty is a word people use when they hold you to a higher standard than themselves.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Now I want to put that on a t-shirt!

Mr. Postscript: Hm. I would order one.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Really? You’d match shirts with me?

Mr. Postscript: Well, no. I wouldn’t wear it around you per se, I don’t think I’d pull it off as well. However, I’d happily parade it in front of my brothers.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: You know what I’ll take it.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Shelving that design for now, let’s get back to Drake’s sweater. So I got a general sense of his taste from the pictures you sent me although I already see I’ll have to take some liberties when it comes to fabric because these pieces don’t look like they were made particularly for comfort and that’s a priority here right?

Mr. Postscript: Yes. I trust your judgement when it comes to fabric.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Great! All that’s left is the design and for once I actually have an idea right off the back.

Mr. Postscript: Is that so? Consider me impressed.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Well, it all hinges on Drake being as big of a coffee lover as you make him out to be.

Mr. Postscript: Trust me angel, coffee addict is literally Drake’s personality. I don’t know how that’s possible but he managed it. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Okay. It’s time then. 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’ve had this idea in the back of my mind for a while now and I’ve never taken the time to fully develop it but if I pull it off it may well be the greatest piece I ever produce.

Mr. Postscript: And of course, it goes to Drake. He’ll never let that go.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’d hope not. He should feel honored to be the recipient. T.G.Y.T.T.B.: However, I’ll need two things from you to make this work.

Mr. Postscript: Well?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I’ll need you to take a picture of your brother’s coffee, after he’s poured and added whatever he adds (although if he’s truly a coffee addict that won’t be much). 

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: It is CRUCIAL that you make sure to show me the exact shade he drinks, understand?

Mr. Postscript: Now you’re even starting to sound like him when he’s in a coffee-crazed state.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Do. You. Understand?

Mr. Postscript: Yes. I can do that. What else?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Right, I’m gonna need you to trust me on this, okay? The design is going to be so much more than meets the eye so I’m not going to show you any drawing or photos before you get it in the mail, okay? T.G.Y.T.T.B.: I know that’s kind of a lot to ask but I think you’ll understand why in the end.

Mr. Postscript: … 

Mr. Postscript: I’m not going to pretend any of this isn’t ridiculously strange but since you obviously know what you’re doing and Drake actually loves a good mystery, I’ll allow it. Use your idea.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yay! You won’t regret it!

Mr. Postscript: So is that all you need?

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Yup, Grayson’s sweater is already started, I’ll go shopping for the materials for Jason’s jacket tomorrow, and Drake’s can be started as soon as I get that picture of the coffee.

Mr. Postscript: That won’t take long. I should have it to you by tomorrow at the latest.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Great!

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: Um, Damian. I really have to go. There’s an akuma.

Mr. Postscript: Yes. I got an alert. I signed up for them when you mentioned the situation. Is it close? T.G.Y.T.T.B.: it will be ill text you tomorrow okay?

Mr. Postscript: Yes. Be safe.

T.G.Y.T.T.B.: thx bye1

From:DoWhatISay@email.com

To:Marinette.D.C.@email.com

Date:November 10, 2021 7:00 P.M.

Subject: (No Subject)

Postscript: I would like you to know that I found your use of the phrase “Pardon my English” after swearing to be the pinnacle of comedy and would like to request permission to use this myself someday? - Damian 

From:Marinette.D.C.@email.com

To:DoWhatISay@email.com

Date:November 11, 2021  7:30 A.M.

Subject: RE: (No Subject)

P.S. Permission granted. :)

   - Marinette

Hello Tumblr! It’s been a while, sorry for that. Life has been a rollercoaster these last few weeks and unfortunately not the kind that only goes up my friends. On to better news however, this chapter being posted means Tumblr is finally caught up to where the story is at on AO3. Even better, chapter ten is mostly finished. Everything is written and now I just have to go over and edit it one last time. I do plan on posting it today which feels so weird to say because writing this chapter was so different than my usual experience. It totally breaks my usual chapter structure and I feel like I wrote it at a snail’s pace. Here’s hoping it will have been worth the wait! I’ll see you again soon but as always AO3 will be updated first! <3

Master List

[halothenthehorns]

THE SECOND TASK

Before Lily could take the book, she decided to pass the child along to his father. She'd seen some of the often pained looks he'd been getting lately and understood more than anyone what he'd be feeling, and James wasn't going to argue as he eagerly cradled his care.

Lily may have taken the book with a friendly enough smile, but she was not fool enough not to realize that second task was fast approaching, and she did not want the honors of enduring whatever that was. Still, it was her or somebody else she'd have to be listening to, and at least this way she could more easily cut the boys off when she felt like it.

Hermione was scolding Harry that he'd told he'd figured out his egg long ago.

"He said he was very close," Sirius corrected and defended Harry at once.

"And she can't really think he would have figured it out and not told them," James agreed.

Harry told her to keep her voice down, and he hadn't really been lying, he just needed some time to hammer out the details.

"You mean figure out the whole second part of it," Remus muttered.

    The three friends were currently having this discussion in their Charms class, and with all the commotion of the rest of the class it was a good place to have this conversation. Today they were working on the opposite of the Summoning Charm, the Banishing Charm, and the object was to try and target pillows into a box on Flitwick's desk, the idea in this being if the pillows hit anyone at least it wouldn't hurt.

"Clearly Professor Flitwick has never had a pillow fight with Padfoot," Remus absently rubbed his throat in remembrance as he explained, "he goes for the jugular no matter what weapon's in his hand."

"You deserved it for trying to smother me with yours," Sirius said back instantly.

"What even caused that fight?" James asked, trying to spin his mind back to before feathers had flown.

"Sirius wouldn't go to sleep, nothing too unusual," Remus shrugged.

"Oh I remember," Sirius snapped his fingers, "I was trying to figure out why your name is plural. Why is it James, more than one Jame? What happened to the other?"

"Okay, I need another pillow," Remus grumbled, but trying to force past all of Lily and Harry's combined giggling, Lily managed to keep herself going.

Which was all good in theory, but then there were those like Neville with such horrid aim he was more likely to hit other objects than said pillows, like the Professor.

Breaking up the boys argument as well so that now everyone was trying to laugh and listen at the same time.

Harry told Hermione to drop the egg for a moment, he was trying to explain about the rest of his night.

"A much more important topic I'd like resolved," James instantly agreed, honestly wishing the teachers were the most interesting thing to think about this year rather than his son being in that tournament.

Ron was stunned that Moody had searched Snape's office, not paying a bit of attention to his own spellwork and banishing Parvati's hat off her head.

"Ron clearly has the useful aspects of this spell down," Sirius snickered.

Asking if Moody was here to watch Snape as well as Karkaroff?

"If so, he's doing a terrible job," Lily rolled her eyes, still smarting over his treatment of Hermione and Neville as much as Harry.

Harry admitted he didn't know if Dumbledore was telling Moody to do so,

"If so, then Dumbledore just got a lot more interesting," Remus arched a brow, thinking Dumbledore should trust his staff enough he should never have done this, but then again Dumbledore had also hired a Death Eater, so that man was as unpredictable as it could get.

but Moody was doing it anyways. Harry was paying no more attention to where his pillow was headed, so it instead did a belly flop off the desk.

More giggles for that lovely mental image.

Harry continued by repeating that Snape was apparently here on a second chance.

Ron asked if it was possible it had been Snape putting Harry's name in the Goblet?

They were all in such a good mood, nobody wanted to sit and dwell on how that could honestly be a very real possibility. They certainly hated him enough to believe he'd done it, but they had no more proof it was him than anyone else, so no one tried to say otherwise.

Harry most of all felt deep inside him that this answer wasn't even close...but something in that sentence felt like it should be...

Hermione told him off for that, reminding of the last time Ron had tried to blame their woes on Snape, and he'd in fact been saving Harry's life.

James' nose crinkled in agitation at the reminder, he'd called himself even with Snape in gratitude for that, but he'd done nothing since then but treat his son, well like he'd treated him so he was far from liking the guy, and that was before what he'd done to Remus and tried to do to Sirius.

Even while chatting, Hermione perfectly aimed her cushion into the box they were supposed to be aiming for.

"Oh, you were actually supposed to be aiming for something?" Remus asked with a strained smile, looking for something to laugh about again. "I'd never have guessed the way you and Ron were casting around."

Harry stuck his tongue out at him.

Harry considered what Hermione said, but couldn't quite rule him out as a suspect as the man had never likened himself to Harry in any way shape or form by never missing an opportunity to have Harry suspended.

"Suspended," Sirius scoffed, "is too kind, he'd have you expelled the second he could get away with it."

"No matter how many times I see it, I still can't believe he's so petty he treats Harry like James," Remus snapped in agreement.

Hermione said she didn't care what Moody did, Dumbledore wasn't a fool. He trusted Hagrid and Lupin, when no one else would, so he must have a reason for Snape as well.

"I don't think those comparisons should count," James grumbled, drawing his wand and creating a few colorful puffs of smoke to amuse his kid, at least someone in here deserved to be having fun since the mere mention of Snape had ruined theirs. "Moony and Hagrid aren't gits who treat children like his personal voodoo dolls."

Lily sighed, still wishing more than anything that wasn't true, but knowing it was didn't make it hurt less. She wished she could disagree, that Snape being a Death Eater really was his only fault, but after everything he'd done, she honestly agreed with the boys he was past redemption taking whatever his problem was out on those kids.

Trying to say even if Snape was a bit-

Ron cut her off by stating he was pure evil. What other reason did all of these Dark wizard catchers have to be snooping around him?

"And yet not one of them could find anything," Sirius sighed in disappointment. "What is the matter with our justice system they could get rid of me, but not him!"

James would have reached around and smacked Sirius senseless for that joke he still hated if he hadn't been holding baby Harry. Remus also temporarily considered cursing Sirius, but chose to ignore him rather than acknowledge that.

Hermione moved on to ask about why Crouch would be acting ill? It was all very odd of him to be doing that while having missed the Yule Ball.

"One of our main main problems right now, yes," Lily agreed.

Ron told her she was being to uptight about Crouch because of how he treated Winky while one of his pillows hit a window.

Hermione snapped back Ron just wanted to blame everything on Snape, while sending another pillow into the box.

"Got to be impressed with Hermione's skill of multitasking at least," Sirius put a winning smile in place to stop his two friends glaring at him. "She's arguing and still managing to keep at her work."

Harry belayed both of them by asking the real question, why was Snape on his second chance? What had happened to his first one? He'd waved his wand carelessly while speaking, but to his surprise his cushion had landed where it was supposed to.

"Apparently Harry can to," James laughed in surprise.

Adhering to Sirius' wish of hearing about anything odd at Hogwarts,

"Oh yeah, I think this qualifies," Remus gave an odd smile, thinking, 'he can't do anything worse than come back, right?'

Harry sent him a letter telling of his midnight experience.

"Can't wait to hear that response," James muttered without enthusiasm, silently agreeing with Remus, Sirius could do something equally as stupid like try dogging Crouch next to see what he was up to, he wouldn't put it past him.

Harry then turned his attention to his real problem of breathing underwater for an hour.

"The only thing I can think of," Lily sighed, "is a potion to turn you semi aquatic, but that's so advanced for you dear."

"Same with Transfiguration," James scowled, his mind trying to go back to something lower level that could help Harry out, but he was drawing a blank.

Harry had previously mentioned aqua-lungs to Ron, and he offered up the idea of Harry summoning one of those to him.

Sirius turned to explain the concept to James while Remus adamantly shook his head and said quickly, "no offense, but I hope you don't follow that advice. Mostly because you are so far away from anything Muggle, I don't think even Dumbledore could summon something from so far away."

James looked disappointed, now that he knew what these things were they sounded really cool, he'd have liked to hear about Harry using one.

Hermione pointed out all the flaws of this, like Harry would have to learn to use one in under an hour,

"You mean you can't just slip it on?" Harry asked in surprise.

"You might try and let the teachers let you go to the nearest Muggle place so you can buy one," Sirius offered. "Then you'd have time to practice."

"Much less fun than stealing it and making it up on the fly," James pouted even if he did agree.

plus the act of Summoning it would most likely draw Muggle notice flying from where ever it was.

"A fairly good point," Lily chuckled.

Hermione offered Harry should try and Transfigure himself into a submarine or something,

"Machines are harder to pull off then animals," James shook his head in disagreement.

but that might be beyond Harry as they didn't start human transformations until sixth year.

Harry agreed he didn't fancy trying, he'd likely end up with a periscope sticking out of his head forever.

"Such a missed opportunity," Sirius smirked.

Harry suggested he should piss off Moody, he'd turn him into something

All four of them started laughing raucously, Harry's continued fear of being Transfigured because of that instant still hadn't worn off in hilarity.

but Hermione corrected she doubted Moody would let him choose his Transfiguration in a very serious voice.

Sirius was still to busy getting his breath back to make his favorite joke, in fact his laughter had doubled that Hermione had thought Harry meant that as more than a joke.

She insisted Harry should try a Charm to work this problem out,

Lily huffed and pouted she couldn't think of one to help with this.

so Harry resigned himself to another seemingly endless bout of page flipping in the library.

"Most students reach that conclusion by their first year," Remus agreed, "and you seem to double the amount of time you spend in there above them."

Harry tried everything revolving the text, even going to ask McGonagall if he could peruse the restricted section, even asking the librarian Pince for advice, but still found nothing that would help him to live underwater for even an hour.

"This is not encouraging," James started to frown, getting a little twitchy at his own blank mind. This felt like a real laps in his magical education that above some high level magic, some kid could have fallen in the lake in all these years and could have drowned because Hogwarts had never taught them to survive the instance. True when this had happened the giant squid was prone to save people, but that wasn't the point right now.

"I'm sure there must be something," Sirius groaned as he ran his hand through his hair, "I know I've heard of people visiting mermaid villages before, so it is doable."

Harry could feel that old feeling of panic seizing him again, now watching the lake on the grounds in a whole new light. He'd always looked to it as a bit of scenery, never before really seeing the stone gray surface like a deep void.

Remus started fidgeting with the sleeve of his robes, his eyes squinting at nothing, but it really was frustrating them they were drawing a blank on this matter as much as Harry. Not to mention they already had some unpleasant memories about that stupid lake nearly having been the sight Sirius had been Kissed, so they weren't keen on Harry having to be back near it.

Time started jumping in intervals again, weeks turning into days and Harry growing more and more desperate to find something, anything!

Lily's voice was starting to get pitchy in concern, she really had no clue what was going to happen to her baby if he couldn't go through with this task. The magical binding contracts of the Tournament forcing Harry to participate in these contests were the reason he couldn't voluntarily leave, but what would it do if Harry just wasn't able to complete a task? Would his magical core be damaged just because of some stupid event like this?!

With two days left Harry started to go off food again.

After James accidentally released a foul smelling gas from his wand that was mustard yellow, he quickly tucked it away and decided enough of that game, and instead starting bouncing his toddler around on his knee, managing to keep him happy and thump out his nerves all at once.

The only bright spot he had left before the 24th was Sirius' returning owl, which was one sentence: to tell when his next Hogsmeade weekend was.

"Because that was encouraging," Lily snapped at him, having to fight down the impulse to strangle Sirius when he technically hadn't done anything wrong, but they were all so stressed that Sirius being unhelpful felt like an extra kick in the rear.

Sirius raised his hands up in surrender at once, just as annoyed at his own self no matter how muddled that made his mind.

"Why do you even want to know?" James demanded of him. "You're not actually stupid enough to come onto the school grounds again."

When Sirius didn't answer, that only managed to make them all squirm to another degree. They knew he could get away with it, if anyone could survive on the grounds of Hogwarts it was a Marauder, but they'd still felt a lot safer with Sirius being far away from where Snape and an Auror, even a retired one, were.

Harry even flipped the paper over to find the rest of the message.

Remus had to plug his nose to stop himself snorting with laughter, but the indignant look on Harry's face really would have been priceless under any other circumstances, as that really was possibly the shortest note Sirius have ever sent anyone.

Hermione whispered the answer to him which Harry quickly wrote down and sent back.

"That would be so helpful if I lived that long," Harry said with a forced smile in place, at least giving them all the reminder that he had.

Harry felt his anxiety somehow ramp up all the more as the owl took off again. He'd somehow thought Sirius would come back with an answer as well, but in his haste to write down the Crouch/Snape/ and Moody stuff he hadn't even mentioned his egg.

"Not like I'd be much help anyways, clearly," Sirius grumbled, starting to feel an ache in his chest that he'd been so useless lately. He hadn't been able to help Harry with any of these tasks, and had in fact been causing Harry more sleepless nights than anything remotely helpful.

Ron asked why he'd even want to know, and Harry responded back lifelessly, trying to cling to that flare of hope he'd had at Sirius' note.

Sirius forced himself to perk back up at that though, at least he was helping in some way by keeping Harry's moral up even for a second.

James recognized the same thing, and responded by making faces at his baby.

They were due at a Care of Magical Creatures lesson, where Hagrid had thankfully stopped forcing interaction with the Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Well this is a pleasant start," Remus managed a smile, very thankful if Hagrid had moved on from those illegal things.

Maybe because there were only two left,

"More good news," Lily chirped.

or because he was trying to prove he could do anything that Professor Grubbly-Plank could,

"I already knew he could," Sirius scoffed.

Hagrid had instead been continuing on unicorn lessons.

"Can't deny I'm relieved to hear that," James beamed.

"No offense to Hagrid, but I do hope he does follow this more common line of thinking," Remus agreed, thinking that whole ordeal with the skrewts would be worth it if it had finally made Hagrid realize the things he should and shouldn't be showing classes.

It turned out that Hagrid knew quite as much about unicorns as he did about monsters,

"Well I already knew that," Sirius smiled, "he just doesn't show it as much."

"Could have fooled me," Lily shook her head affectionately.

though it was clear that he found their lack of poisonous fangs disappointing.

"Oh boy, poisonous fanged unicorns," Remus shook his head at the thought, "please don't tell Hagrid about that, or he might start up more crossbreeding."

Today he had managed to capture two foals.

"Ha!" Sirius barked in triumph. "Let's see that Grubbly woman get away with that."

Lily was smiling privately to herself behind the book, thinking those boys had taken that woman way to personally, but as loyal as the Marauders were, she wouldn't be surprised if they resented any teacher taking over a position of someone they liked. It certainly explained the lackluster way they were treating any mention of Moody.

Unlike full-grown unicorns, they were pure gold.

Harry's eyes flipped wide in surprise as he remembered those beauties.

Parvati and Lavender went into transports of delight at the sight of them,

James couldn't stop his own triumphant giggles at Hagrid not only one upping Grubbly-Plank, but also managing to stun those two uppity girls.

and even Pansy had to work hard to conceal how much she liked them.

"Glad to hear she's not a completely heartless monster," Remus smiled, as he'd never met a person who resisted those babies charm.

Hagrid was going over their growth ages, noting how much easier they were to spot at this age and didn't start to change silver until two, nor grow horns until four. They didn't go pure white until seven.

"How long do they live?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Average age is twenty," Remus happily supplied, "some up to thirty. Those that are domesticated and in captivity can live up to forty or fifty."

Harry couldn't imagine anyone actually owning a unicorn, let alone riding one, but he'd certainly love to see that.

The babies were more trusting than their older counterparts, so the boys were welcomed to come forward and pet them, Hagrid encouraging them all to offer sugar lumps.

"They'll never let you leave if you do that," Remus chuckled.

Hagrid called Harry over to him, while the others swarmed the babies,

"Not all at once," Lily couldn't help but caution, "still only a few at a time, don't want to startle them."

"Yes Mum," Sirius picked at her, which she ignored.

and asked how he was doing?

Harry agreed he was fine, and at Hagrid's prompting, a bit nervous. Hagrid clapped Harry on the shoulder, saying he wasn't surprised one bit, he'd be fine!

Even though he knew Hagrid to be wrong, Harry still couldn't help a warm rush of reassurance that Hagrid had such unwavering confidence in him. Harry knew right then he'd come out of this task on top just for that alone.

Asking if he had his clue all figured out?

"For the most part," Sirius rolled his eyes.

Harry hesitated answering at first, wondering if he should ask Hagrid for advice. Had he ever gone into the lake to deal with those creatures?

"That's actually not a bad idea," Remus said in surprise.

"I'll bet Hagrid would be more than happy to spill," Sirius agreed, "it might even be something insanely easy to get a hold of, since Hagrid's no great shakes at magic."

Harry just sighed though, feeling confident he wouldn't be asking Hagrid for help with this considering that would be confessing to the man who'd just given him such comfort that he had no idea what he was doing.

Hagrid hadn't waited for an answer, already patting Harry's shoulder with confidence that he'd win, while Harry sunk a few inches into the soft ground.

They all realized that at the same moment as Harry, so it was only strained smiles for Hagrid's over enthusiasm.

Harry couldn't bring himself to ask after that, and ruin Hagrid's proud smile.

By the night before the task, Harry was sure he was in a living nightmare.

Even Harry couldn't stop a forceful shiver at that, he'd only had just this amount of time before to practice a Summoning charm he'd already heard of, now he was supposed to find one and master it in less than twelve hours!

His panicky feelings managed to subside the moment he blinked his haze of fear away and realize where he was, at least feeling safe in the knowledge those around him weren't blaming him one bit for this mess he was in.

He knew that even if he found a spell by now he'd still have to learn it in time to use it. Why had he done this to himself? He should have been working on this since the beginning!

"Oh I don't think that's your fault," Lily said instantly, "you acted like everyone else in that situation would have."

Harry had to bite his tongue from bitterly pointing out Cedric had already figured it out first, and he'd probably come in first place by doing some masterful thing. At this point Harry wouldn't be surprised if the perfect Hufflepuff invented his own spell to combat this! Still he said none of that aloud, it wasn't his mother's fault she'd gotten him instead.

He was berating himself for all four years of his schooling and his slacking off, what if a teacher had ever mentioned how to breathe underwater?

"Then Hermione would know how to do this," James soothed, "and if she doesn't know and she's at least a year above you, then I'm confident this isn't your fault in lapse in knowledge."

Harry actually did feel himself relax at that being pointed out.

Still he and his friends were frantically turning pages in the library, but whenever the word water came about, it was usually some potion ingredient.

Ron snapped in frustration that this just wasn't a task to be done! The closest he'd found was a drought spell to clear puddles,

"But that's not strong enough for the whole lake," Lily sighed, that charm had crossed her mind but she hadn't suggested it for this reason.

but it wasn't powerful enough to drain a lake!

"Not now Sirius," Remus cut him off before Sirius could point out Lily had finished Ron's sentence. He pouted at his friend but didn't argue the point, he wanted to hear about this task being over already as much as anyone.

Hermione was still being insistent, saying it must be in here somewhere!

Ron ignored her, saying Harry's only option was to go down to the lake, stick his head in and demand they give back whatever they took.

Tension broke in the room once again because of Ron, Harry actually laughing so hard he started listing in his seat and he couldn't help it. He truly missed his best friend.

"I genuinely hope you try that," Sirius happily brushed some hair out of his face, "you will definitely get points for originality."

Remus held himself back from pointing out that it wouldn't work, but at least no one could say Harry hadn't tried.

Hermione hissed at him he was being ridiculous, there must be a way! She seemed to be taking the fact that she hadn't found her answer in the library as a personal insult, it had never failed her before.

"Actually it has several times now," James happily pointed out. "You didn't find out about the Stone in there, or the Chamber of Secrets."

"Technically the Stone was in a book she'd previously checked out," Lily countered just to poke back at her husband.

"And she did find information about the Basilisk in a book from there," Remus agreed.

"Okay, fifty, fifty," Harry pacified before Sirius could argue anything back.

Harry bemoaned that he hadn't ever tried to become an animagus like his godfather.

"Why would that have helped?" James asked in surprise, ignoring his internal wince that of course Harry would say Sirius' name rather than his, he'd actually seen Padfoot as more than a memory.

"I didn't know you couldn't choose the animal," Harry shrugged.

Ron agreed Harry could be a goldfish by now.

"Even if you could chose, I'm sure you would have picked something better than a puny fish," Remus sniffed.

"Like an alligator," Sirius happily agreed.

Hermione snapped they were being ridiculous, it took years to be one of those and you had to take the time to register and all sorts,

"That's half a lie," James raised a challenging brow, "you don't have to register."

Lily ignored him, she knew Harry had meant it as a joke and James returning Hermione with sarcasm wasn't helping anything.

Sirius clearly didn't as he kept going sadly, "but that first half is true, we started at the end of our third year and didn't manage it until the beginning of our fifth. Even if you had been practicing from the whole time you knew about them, you would only be able to go about half way."

"Still," Remus couldn't help but point out speculatively, "he could manifest certain parts, so if he had been something aquatic, it may have been enough to get him through this."

"None of this is helpful," Lily cut them all off for good.

still pointing out that the Improper Use of Magic Office kept a very strict list of people who could so that the power couldn't be abused.

"Hermione is clearly focusing on the wrong things here," Sirius muttered so Lily wouldn't snap again.

Harry told her to cool it, he'd been joking.

Hermione was ignoring him now to as she snapped how useless half of these spells were, who wanted to make their nose hair ringlets?

"And why wouldn't you?" James returned innocently.

Fred popped up then to say it was certainly a conversation starter.

"There's my point," James gestured vaguely to Lily's ever growing annoyance that she couldn't be done with this.

The three looked up in surprise to ask what the twins were doing here.

"Lost I'd guess," Remus snorted.

George told they'd been sent to get Ron and Hermione to see McGonagall.

"Why?" All of the boys asked at the same time Lily read out;

Hermione asked why, and Fred said he wasn't sure, but she'd looked grim about something.

"Well that's not encouraging," Sirius frowned.

"What could she be talking to them for and not Harry?" Remus agreed uneasily.

Harry exchanged an uneasy look with his friends, wondering if their head of house was going to tell them off for Harry getting help from them.

"Oh she wouldn't," Lily wriggled with unease at the idea.

"I'm positive that's not what this is about," James said with conviction, their old head of house was bound to give Harry more slack than that.

Still, they had no choice, so they promised they'd meet Harry back in the common room, to bring as many books with him as he could so they could keep looking.

Harry was left on his own through another mountain of books with such titles as A Guide to Medieval Sorcery, An Anthology of Eighteenth-Century Charms, and Dreadful Denizens of the Deep.

"Really, those last two sounded promising?" Remus said.

"I don't even remember what they're about anymore," Harry sighed, "even if I had found a spell, I was so tired by then I'd have read right over it."

They were all shifting around again in unease, that worry creeping up again of how had Harry lived through this one. It was much less scary than the dragon, and yet still somehow more stressful.

Harry eventually was kicked out because of curfew and did indeed drag many more thick spines with him up to his common room, where Crookshanks took to settling on his lap and people passed Harry by wishing him luck.

"Never mind that you must have looked like hell by then," James muttered mutinously.

All seemed convinced Harry would do something just as spectacular as his first event.

"Oh hey, what if you used your firebolt again," Sirius suddenly yelped in excitement. "You'd pelt through the water faster than swimming, and so long as you were fast and held your breath the whole time, you could be in and out."

"Have you ever flown a broom under water?" Lily asked in honest curiosity.

"Well, no," James answered, "but I think the idea has merits."

Remus clearly didn't agree as he quickly poked holes, "well it's still not a good idea not to test the idea first incase there is resistance, in which case Harry wouldn't be able to move any faster than normal, plus I'm positive for mermaids to be in there that it's going to be very deep and large, he still might not be able to hold his breath long enough to find what he's looking for."

"Well you're just no help at all," Sirius pouted as he sat back.

Harry couldn't find the breathe to answer them, and by midnight he was all alone.

"Where'd Ron and Hermione go?" Lily yelped in concern.

"They never came back," Harry admitted, starting to flatten his hair in nerves as he was sure he'd see them again sooner than he was thinking...but not how he was expecting.

He'd gone through his last book, and shame was settling in. He couldn't do this task. He'd have to go down there tomorrow and face Bagman's surprise, Karkaroff's smugness, Flure saying how unsurprised she was as he was just a little boy.

Harry slumped back in his seat, trying to ignore the mortification bubbling in him.

James caught sight of this and wasted no time in telling him, "you can't go blaming yourself for not getting this Harry. These were not designed for your age in mind, and honestly you still never should have been doing them in the first place."

Harry watched him for a moment before giving an honest smile. He didn't exactly feel better, but it still felt good no one in here was judging him for not being able to do so. He could suffer through all those other people's reactions so long as those in here shot their mouths off at them because of it.

He knew Malfoy would laugh himself silly, and Hagrid would be crestfallen.

Though Harry winced particularly hard at that one, knowing that would hurt the worst.

Harry stood abruptly from his seat, dislodging Crookshanks who gave him an unhappy hiss before slinking away.

"Yes, how dare the person move," Remus muttered to himself.

Harry made up his mind, going to fetch his Invisibility Cloak. He was going back to the library, and he would stay there until he found something!

"The fact that you've used that cloak to sneak into the Library more than anywhere else in that castle," Sirius shook his head, "I really never would have guessed it."

Lily quickly countered with, "well I'm not going to pretend to be disappointed."

Time kept marching on, soon it was almost three in the morning, and still Harry's nimble fingers kept pushing more pages along, one more book, it had to be in the next book...

The mermaid from the painting was still sitting on her rock, having a poke at Harry's head with his own broom while he floundered in the water.

"I'm thinking you finally fell asleep," James chuckled lightly.

"No, really?" Sirius challenged back. "I think Harry finally gave up and decided to hide in there with his broom."

Harry was trying to demand it back, but she just kept laughing and poking him in the head.

Harry told her to knock it off, that was hurting, but then another voice told him Harry Potter must wake up.

Lily sighed, hesitating before she read on to find out who was trying to wake her son up to face something like this, she really wasn't looking forward to the end results.

Harry insisted, with his eyes still shut, that he needed to stop being poked.

Dobby insisted he must keep poking Harry Potter, he must wake up.

"Why's Dobby the one fetching you?" Sirius did a double take in surprise.

"Why can he even see you?" James added, "you fell asleep under the cloak."

"Why didn't Ron and Hermione ever show up again?" Remus groused.

Lily was still ignoring all of those very good questions.

Harry sat up in surprise, the cloak had slipped off of him and he was still slumped over a book in the library, daylight shining on his face.

Dobby was still speaking to him, telling him he had ten minutes to get to the second task.

"Well at least Dobby poked you awake this time," Sirius offered helpfully, though he agreed he'd rather have just let Harry sleep through it at this point. "So at least he took your advice."

"As if I needed heart failure right before this," Harry absently agreed.

Harry repeated the time back in shock, even looking at his own watch to confirm, but when he saw Dobby was right, Harry slumped back in his chair in defeat.

Dobby was still being insistent, telling Harry Potter he needed to go, Dobby was going to help him.

"And how is he going to do that?" Remus demanded in surprise.

"Magic," James rolled his eyes, though now leaning forward eagerly as he was really curious to hear what Dobby had been up to so shushed Remus before he could respond.

Dobby had to help him, because Harry Potter needed to get back his Wheezy.

"His what?" All the boys asked at once.

Harry tried to ask what that was, and Dobby insisted Harry had to get back his Wheezy from the lake, the one who'd given Dobby his sweater.

Sirius flushed in shock, only just managing to stammer out, "they, they took Ron!"

"How on earth did they manage that?" James demanded of nothing, getting a little jittery at the thought.

"You think Hermione and him went down to the lake to test a theory of her's, and..." Lily trailed off as her mind failed to offer up anything after that.

Remus was shaking his head furiously as he objected, "I've never heard of Mermaids abducting anyone, there must be something else going on with this!"

Harry hadn't realized it before, but he was now feeling more panicky than ever about this task! Now not only had he no clue how to survive under the water, he had to find Ron as well!

Harry grasped what was going on, and began reciting that mermaid song again in horror.

"They wouldn't actually," Lily looked faint at the idea, unable to complete the thought aloud that they'd never really just leave them to die after an hour, then her mind flashed back to all those horrific stories she'd heard about the champions dying, and now they'd gone and put even more people into this Tournament! She kept reading in a feverish haste now, thinking that this school had officially lost its mind.

Harry begged Dobby for whatever help he had, and Dobby offered him gillyweed.

"Haven't I heard of that before?" James cocked his head to the side as it niggled at his mind.

"It's a plant," Lily yelped in shock, "used in potions to help you transform into aquatic life as it'll give you gills and fins. It's not native to Britain though, so I can't imagine where Dobby got a hold of that. I've only ever read about about it in an advanced Potion's text."

"Well whatever works to help me live through this," Harry said pointedly, and Lily took the hint and decided she'd figure out the elf later.

Sirius had to bite his tongue to caution Harry not take that, he still wasn't sure how much he trusted Dobby to be giving Harry anything.

Harry looked at the slimy green ball and asked what it did, and Dobby promised it would help Harry breathe underwater.

Harry couldn't help but ask how sure Dobby was, still remembering the last time the elf had tried to 'help' he'd gone a night without bones in his arm.

"Glad it's not just me," Sirius huffed under his breath, though Harry heard and acknowledged him with half a look of disbelief, and half agreement.

Dobby promised he knew what this was, he'd heard McGonagall and Moody talking about it! Dobby would not let Harry Potter lose his Wheezy!

"Well that we can agree on," Remus said.

Harry decided he'd have to trust this, he had no other choice. Stuffing the cloak and gillyweed onto his person, Harry thanked Dobby for his help as he sprinted out of the library.

"I can't deny I'm finally warming up to him," James grinned, Dobby had officially been very useful to Harry this year enough to make up for all his, err, issues in his second year.

Some people were still making their way out of the Entrance Hall from breakfast as Harry all but flew past them in his haste to make it down to the lake. Stands were already set up around it filled to the brim in anticipation to watch the lake.

"That's an interesting point I hadn't thought about," Remus couldn't stop himself blurting much to the annoyance of the others who wanted to get this task over with. "How on earth is this going to be spectated by anyone, wouldn't they just be watching the water's surface?"

"They could use Per Speculum," Lily offered distractedly, "cast it so that only the people in the stands could see through to the bottom of the lake."

"Can you use that spell to see through anything?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Inanimate objects," Lily agreed, "it's an old, tricky charm. I imagine some variation of it was used to create Moody's fake eye, plus whatever else was used to see through his own head as well."

While intrigued, Harry didn't press his mother for more details for now.

Harry came to a screeching halt in front of the judges stand, splattering mud on Flure.

"I'm sure she'll hex you for getting her dirty before she jumps into water," Sirius snorted.

A bossy voice demanded why he was so late.

"I hope Crouch is finally back," James said eagerly, "I want another look at him."

It was Percy, sitting in Crouch's spot.

"Why am I not surprised those two are described talking the same way," Remus snorted, as disappointed as the others Crouch had once again been a no show, but this just made his arrival in Snape's office all the stranger!

No one looked to question it now right before this task though.

Bagman waved him off, saying Harry should be allowed to catch his breath for a moment. Everyone except for Bagman and Dumbledore were smiling at Harry's arrival.

"Not sorry for your fortune," James grumbled.

Harry doubled over for a moment to indeed get back some air, and rub out the stitch in his side.

Remus couldn't help but think back and really realize how far Harry had just run in ten minutes, that really was quite a feet. He could have been a sprinter on the track team if he'd gone to a normal muggle school with that kind of talent.

He didn't have long as Bagman began spacing them out on the shoreline, pausing at Harry and asking if he knew what he was going to do?

"Even if he didn't, you going to teach him a spell in front of everyone in the next five seconds?" Sirius couldn't help but snap.

Lily rolled her eyes at him, Bagman was just trying to be friendly, but couldn't deny Sirius had a point this time.

Harry grasped the plant in his pocket as he said he was good to go. Bagman backed up then, turning on his Sonorous voice and calling for all to hear that on the count of three, the task would begin.

Time was up, a whistle blew, and Harry ignored everything around him as he struggled to remove his socks and shoes.

"You should have been allowed to at least do that," James sniffed. "The others showed up in swimwear."

"Price of being tardy," Lily sighed.

Then he stumbled into the icy waters, chewing furiously at the gillyweed. It was slimy and hard to force down his throat, his toes were numb and stumbling over the slick stones and smooth silt, and beyond in the stands Harry could hear laughter. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, wading in without seemingly doing anything.

"Not everything has to be flashy," Remus muttered, genuinely wondering what the other champions had come up with, but knew he could ask Harry later after the task.

Now he was up to his chest in the icy liquid, which felt more like fire the temperature was so unbearable, then a breeze blew through and Harry stood there shivering and waiting amid the jeering.

"How long does this stuff take to kick in?" Harry asked with unease, wondering if he should have been eating it on his run down there now.

"Only a few moments," Lily reassured, "it feels longer because you're waiting for it."

All at once he felt the change, the sides of his neck stung as his fumbling fingers felt slits appear there, his mouth and nose suddenly wouldn't take in air as if he had a pillow covering them.

"Fascinating," Sirius said genuinely, he'd never thought what it must feel like for a fish to be out of water, but Harry made a good point of it.

Without hesitating another moment, Harry flung himself into the water, sucked in the lake, and breathed freely again. Slamming his feet forward, Harry found he was suddenly moving much more easily through the water than he should have, and he looked down to see his fingers and toes were suddenly elongated and had bits of film between them all, he'd gone webbed with flippers.

"Looks like you got your wish," James grinned, "you sound like you've half turned into a frog."

"Frogs don't have gills by the time they have webbed feet," Remus reminded.

James rolled his eyes at him as that wasn't his point, but didn't start an argument over it for once.

The water now felt like the perfect temperature, and Harry could see much more clearly than he should have in the grime, plus he no longer needed to blink.

"I don't care what the others are doing," Sirius smiled, "this sounds by far the best way to do it."

Silence wasn't bleeding in, so as Harry propelled himself forward he had nothing to guide him through the foggy landscape. The smooth sand below quickly turned into a sea of seaweed and small fish occasionally flashed by and caught his eye, but there was no sign of Ron, merpeople, or even the giant squid.

"I think that would have been interesting to see up close," James snorted.

"Not if it decided you were shrimp," Remus said, trying to ignore the myths he'd heard about those things eating small whales in the wild, Harry didn't need to discover if that was true or not.

Nothing as far as the eye could see, Harry was staring unblinkingly ahead of him,

Sirius wished Harry would quit mentioning that part, he kept blinking spastically every time and it was annoying to have it pointed out.

trying to discern shapes through the gloom when, without warning, something grabbed hold of his ankle.

Lily couldn't help but startle just a bit, her foot trying to retract from nothing on instinct.

Harry twisted his body around to find a grindylow.

All five of them couldn't help a little shiver of unease at that, but were more thankful than ever Remus had been around last year to teach Harry about these things, Merlin knew what would be happening to him otherwise.

Harry went for his wand and shouted the spell Relashio, but to his surprise only a bubble came from his mouth, while a jet of water shot the creature in the head, creating a red welt in the green skin.

Harry couldn't help a little intrigue, he'd learned that spell over a year ago now but he'd only used it for the first time, and was honestly impressed it had even worked. While going over it in class, Professor Lupin had emphasized how hard this could be to pull off underwater where your spells could be temperamental since verbal spells were nay impossible to perform down there. Your best bet, if you hadn't learned silent spells yet, was to avoid them altogether.

Harry pulled his ankle free, but just as fast he had half a dozen chasing him and trying to pull him down. Harry kept swimming forward, shooting jets over his shoulder until another grabbed his and he gave a ferocious kick, knocking the creature loose and making it go crosseyed back into the weeds.

Lily forced herself to relax a bit now that Harry was away from that threat, still sending silent thank you's to Remus in her head for teaching Harry about those or this could have turned out much worse.

That excursion had done nothing to really help put him on a direction, so he was still pushing along when a voice asked how he was doing?

"Who's talking underwater?" James jumped in shock, the baby in his lap giving a particularly loud giggle for this.

Harry spun on the spot to find Myrtle.

"I don't want to know why she's down there, I do not want that image in my head again," Sirius groaned, covering up his ears and wishing he could do the same to his eyes to make that mental image go away.

"Who's using the bathroom during the middle of the tournament?" Remus muttered absently, but Lily ignored him more for not wanting to think about that than anything.

Harry tried to say her name, but all that came out was more bubbles, causing Moaning Myrtle to giggle.

"I think that's an oxymoron," James gave a surprised smile.

She pointed Harry in the right direction, but refused to come with him,

"It'd probably be cheating if she did," Lily agreed.

saying the merpeople chased her off when she went that way.

Harry gave her a thumbs up in thanks before heading that way, and knowing he was on the right path when he came across a stone statue depicting what must be merpeople chasing the giant squid.

"So, I'm guessing they don't get along," Remus couldn't help but be a bit interested at the idea of the conflict, he wouldn't deny he'd love to read a study on the matter if there was one out there.

The closer he swam, the more clearly he could hear that egg song again, now varying that his time was half up and if he didn't hurry, what he'd lost was going to stay here and rot.

"Gee, thanks," Harry shivered at the horrid idea, he half didn't want the memory back of what his best friend was going to look like in the mermaids clutches...plus he just knew there was someone else down here he was worried about.

Now Harry was swimming through the outskirts of an unmistakable village, some merpeople swimming to the windows of their houses to peak out at him. They looked nothing like the blonde in the prefects bathroom, these had gray skin and green hair, with thick burly features and powerful fish tails, and all were clutching spears.

All of them couldn't help but incline away from that thought, no one wanted to think what would happen if they all swarmed Harry at once. They were curious to know what had been done to even convince these mermaids to allow the tournament to go on in their dwellings, it was the height of uncommon.

Harry sped himself along, spotting a few features like gardens and pebbles lining a street way, even a grindylow tied to a stake like a pet.

"Bet you the equivalent of mermaid Hagrid lives in there," Sirius snorted.

Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another.

"Don't know why they bother," James said, "it's not like Harry speaks mermish."

"What would they even be whispering?" Sirius demanded, "hey look at that weird thing go, hope he drowns so we can have dinner."

"Don't make me silence you," Lily threatened without looking up.

Harry kept his speedy pace as he came across what must be the equivalent of their courtyard, the merpeople song louder than ever, and Harry laid eyes on a humongous statue of a merperson, four ropes bound to it.

"Guess I'm not surprised," Remus still couldn't stop the goosebumps climbing his limbs at the thought, "one for each person."

"I still want an explanation for how they ended up down there," Lily sighed, knowing she wasn't likely to get that until after the fact with the judges explaining, at least she hoped they would.

Ron was tied between Hermione and Cho.

"Why's Hermione there?" Harry yelped in surprise.

"There's no way you got two," James agreed.

Sirius couldn't help but snort in surprise though, saying, "Cedric's only been dating Cho for a few weeks, and she's the person he'd miss most?"

"I'd have missed Lily the most even before we started dating," James said at once, more to get a rise out of Sirius than anything.

It worked, as Sirius liked like a kicked puppy at once while bemoaning, "what do you mean it'd be Lily down there!"

"Please keep going," Remus begged of her, though she was watching with honest amusement and a faint blush, admitting she never would have found this so endearing before she'd married James but now it was hilarious to watch Sirius actually acting like this. She did reluctantly turn back to the pages though, wanting to hear about Harry and his friends getting out of this more than Sirius throwing a fit.

The last was a girl of about eight, her features leaving Harry in no doubt to be Fleur's sister.

"I'm sure it'll break Roger's heart when he hears it wasn't him," Remus smirked.

Sirius though went from indignant at his best friend, to speculation as he asked, "What's up with that?"

"What do you mean?" Lily asked. "I think it's sweet." Her mind was honestly caught on a time where she knew she would have felt the same way about her older sister.

"Sweet sure, but kind of heartbreaking," Sirius said with a shrug, "I mean Fleur's little sister is there, so what's up with Krum not having some kind of family there, or even a random Durmstrang student Harry doesn't know. Cedric, fine, maybe Prongs is right and he's had a liking for her for ages, but are you telling me the person that kid would miss the most is some random girl he met that year?"

All four of them were looking at Sirius slightly slack jawed, until he gave them a sheepish smile and said, "What? Am I wrong?"

"No," Remus shook his head sadly, "You're right, which is why that was so depressing."

"That poor guy," James agreed

With nothing more any of them could think on the matter, Lily went back to reading.

All four were clearly in a deep sleep, faint bubbles rising from their mouths.

Harry continued forward, still half expecting to be attacked any moment, but the surrounding merpeople did nothing but watch. Harry investigated the ropes keeping them in place, but the knots were not to be undone, and Harry wished he'd brought along that new knife Sirius had given him.

"I doubt a severing charm would work any better underwater," Remus agreed with a sigh.

Harry instead turned for help, trying to gesture that he wanted to borrow one of their very sharp spears, but the one just laughed and said they were not to help, only watch.

Harry tried to shout in frustration, but only more bubbles appeared, causing them to laugh harder.

"I don't get why he's still laughing," Lily grumbled, "this isn't funny."

Still Harry went in search of something else, and went down to the rocky shore and found a rather jagged rock. It took some time to hack Ron free, but then Harry looked around expectantly and still found none of the other champions. Why didn't they hurry up already?

"I am positive they're not stopping to pet the grindylows," James agreed, his leg starting to jitter in unease for the victims of this, at least baby Harry found it amusing.

Harry turned his attention on Hermione in impatience, but was at once dragged away by the merpeople, telling him to only take his and leave the others.

"Well that's just cruel," Lily yelped fiercely. "Harry got there first, I see no problems he shouldn't be allowed to save everyone."

"What would happen if the others don't show up?" Remus agreed uneasily.

"Let's hope we don't have to find out," Sirius huffed.

Harry refused, trying to fight them off, but the merpeople weren't letting him go if he kept trying to help the girls. Harry looked from them to Ron, wondering if he'd have time to get him out and come back for the others?

"Most likely not," Lily muttered to herself, the effects of gillyweed didn't last that long.

Would he be able to find this place again? He looked at his watch to see how much time was left but it had stopped working.

"Because that's helpful," James scowled.

Around him the merpeople were muttering in excitement again, and Harry saw Cedric swimming for them with a bubble over his head, distorting his features.

"What spell is that?" Harry asked in surprise, managing to relax even just a bit now that he wasn't alone surrounded by those things.

"Don't know," James said, his face just the same as Harry's, "I've never heard of that."

He mouthed at Harry he'd gotten lost, as he came forward with a knife and cut Cho free in no time.

"Well he just came all kinds of prepared," Sirius rolled his eyes, unnecessarily annoyed at him for bringing that along.

He pulled her upward and out of sight.

"Good to know Cedric cares so much for the others," James couldn't help but snap, Harry could have won already if he wasn't so busy making sure everyone got out of there, like Cho.

Harry still hovered there, waiting for Fleur and Krum. Time was running out, what would happen to the hostages after the hour was up?

Again they all shivered at such phrasing, but really they hoped that was being exaggerated somewhat! They wouldn't really leave those kids down there to die if say someone like Harry hadn't been able to get there, right?

Water babble started up again, and Harry saw another moving in, Krum, with the head of a shark.

"You know, I still can't help but like him just for that," James smirked, "he happened to do what I would have in this instance."

"A shark though," Sirius snorted in amusement, "a fish just wasn't grand enough, no he went for the big one."

"Exactly what Prongs would have done," Remus repeated with a smirk.

His new jagged teeth tried to tear into the flimsy ropes, but they were too small for him to properly gnaw on. Harry feared he'd rip Hermione in half trying.

"Oh I'm sure he's more careful than that," Lily insisted for comfort at once.

"Sharks can feel pulses in the water," Remus offered helpfully, "so I'm sure he can be precise enough not to hit anything he shouldn't be."

Harry swam forward and punched his shoulder hard as he could to get his attention, offering his own jagged rock.

"It's too bad you didn't have that same excuse to hit Diggory," Sirius smirked, which Harry didn't deny.

Krum took the offering, freed Hermione, and was out of sight in no time. Still Harry couldn't swim away with Ron, his eyes trained every which way in hope for Fleur to arrive.

Time was running out, and Harry got desperate.

He took back the stone for himself and went after the little girls ropes, but again the merpeople tried to stop him. Harry pulled out his wand.

Remus couldn't help going a little wide eyed in fear for Harry doing that. He was lucky that whatever was going on these merpeople were playing along, they weren't known for cooperating well with wizards. Harry pulling a wand on them could break whatever truce had been called for this task to play out.

He shouted at them to get out of it, and while bubbles only came out, he got the feeling they understood anyways.

"Bit hard to misinterpret a wand on your nose," Sirius agreed.

They stopped trying to force him away, and Harry kept at his task. Still they were clearly not happy, but stayed well away from him now, so knowing he had the advantage, Harry told them they had till the count of three to get lost, holding up three fingers just to make sure they got the point.

"You'd be great at charades," James couldn't stop himself saying even as he wriggled around in anticipation for this to almost be over

By the time he reached two, they'd scattered.

They all released a breath of relief at that, Harry really should count himself lucky that hadn't gone worse.

Harry quickly got moving then with Ron and the girl, his mind still fearing what was going to happen when time ran out, would they pull him back to the depths?

Harry looked wildly around for someone to tell him he was being ridiculous at that thought, and when no one did but in fact looked slightly even more worried, it wasn't exactly a comfort. Now with both of Harry's hands tied in fact with these two, he couldn't even keep his wand on them as a threat, and what about when the gillyweed ran out?!

Did they eat humans?

Remus really didn't like the fact that he wasn't a hundred percent sure about that fact, he'd heard conflicting stories on the matter and now didn't feel like the time to get a confirmation.

Harry kept himself going, the water steadily growing bright around him, but not fast enough. His muscles were starting to cramp, he could feel himself getting waterlogged, the gills were vanishing and he could no longer draw breath, but still he paddled furiously on as the flippers vanished, he knew the air was above him if he could just get close enough...

Lily forced herself to stop reading no matter how much she didn't want to, just to look up at her son for a moment and tell him, "you and me really need to have a talk about how your mind comes up with the best ways possible to make this tension ten times worse than it should be."

Harry gave her an uneasy smile, unsure if he was being scolded or she was just looking for a release, but she was already turning back to the pages.

then his head broke the surface.

Finally they all managed to breathe with ease again as well, lighting another check mark down in their brain, two down, just one more to go! That last task wasn't going to be over fast enough for them.

Air washed over his face, he erupted in shivers again but he didn't care as he pulled Ron and the girl up with him. Along came several green heads, but they were all smiling.

"Well that's nice," Remus huffed, still half wanting to curse those stupid things for freaking Harry out as much as the grindylows.

The crowd in the stands was going crazy, shouting and screaming as many seemed to fear that Harry had reemerged with someone dead.

Harry suddenly spasmed, his eyes rolling into the back of his head for a moment and shaking so hard he nearly fell over, but the yellow haze swallowing his brain was over as fast as it had come, and he blinked back into the world around him feeling very close to vomiting but having no idea why. He tried to both explain himself and apologize around shaking lips, but though the tight worry in all of their eyes didn't lessen any, Sirius kept a tight hold on Harry's shoulder and James was juggling his infant and watching Harry like at any moment he was prepared to cast a protective charm on him to stop his head hitting anything, no one could bring themselves to ask Harry a single question of why on earth Harry would have a reaction to that. It didn't stop them from turning over what Lily had read over and over in their head...

The two seemed fine though, the girl glancing fearfully around her as she clung to Harry for support, Ron spitting out a bit of water and telling Harry how wet it was.

Harry forced out some approximation of a laugh, his skin still too white for it to be believable, still blinking far too fast for them to believe he wasn't still trying to process what he was hearing rather than some accumulation of memories.

Though for the life of him Sirius actually didn't want to make the joke, still far to worried about what Harry had almost remembered to feel it, he still said, "at least you can always count on Ron to point out the important stuff."

Harry gave him such a relieved smile it had been worth it, and James sat back in his seat and kept the baby in his lap all the closer to him to ignore the interaction while still keeping an eye on Harry.

Then Ron saw the little girl and asked why she was here?

"Did he actually expect him to leave her?" Remus asked absently, trying to refuse to allow his mind to guess where Harry's had gone and mostly failing so coming up with far too many options of what could be bothering him.

Lily fidgeted with the pages for a few moments, not particularly wanting to answer but it would still feel better than letting her own mind wander. "Well if that's Ron's first response, then I guess we were worried for nothing. Perhaps the merpeople would have brought up the unrescued kids on their own."

She tried to instill as much confidence as she could, especially into the first part of that statement for Harry's benefit, wanting to believe more than anything Harry's flashback or memory relapse of whatever he'd nearly felt wasn't going to be as horrible as they were all thinking...though no one really believed that.

Harry explained Fleur never showed up, and he couldn't just leave her!

Ron told Harry he was being a prat, had he really taken that song seriously?

"That's a good point," Sirius quickly shot off, now knowing there had always been one fell safe way to get Harry to laugh and hoping it would work now, "how come I wasn't the one down there! You'd miss Ron more than me?"

He splayed such puppy eyes, Harry really did cave and give a genuine laugh for that.

Dumbledore wouldn't have let them drown!

"He makes it sound so obvious," James grumbled, thinking Ron wouldn't have said the same if he'd heard of all the past tournaments like they had. Lily's panicky little worries at the start of this didn't seem so foolhardy now.

Harry insisted the song had said-

but Ron told Harry they'd only phrased it that way so the champions would return in the time limit. Had Harry really come up last because he was acting the hero?

"Acting is inaccurate," Remus said with a strained smile, but all for happily talking about before Harry came out of the water and they'd gained a new worry. "What Harry did is very brave, and I'm still offended Krum and Diggory clearly didn't even consider doing the same."

Harry gave a bone deep shiver, something of what Remus had said hadn't exactly made him feel better and in fact was making an onset of his migraine reappear, but Lily quickly realized this and kept reading loudly before Harry could lose whatever color he'd even partially regained.

Harry felt stupid and annoyed at the same time. It was all good for Ron to be saying this, he'd been asleep the whole time. He hadn't seen how spooky that lake bottom was.

"Remus' point exactly," James agreed.

Instead of answering, he told Ron to help him out with the girl, she didn't seem able to swim very well.

The three hauled themselves back to the shore, accompanied by the merpeople singing their screechy song above the surface.

"I'll bet the crowd just loved hearing that," Sirius rubbed his ear absently.

Madam Pomfrey was already tending to the other champions and their rescuees.

There it was again, Harry was now confident someone in that list of names had been the cause of such a powerful memory trying to swarm him, but even the thought of guessing had him wanting to press his hand to his mouth to wipe sweat from his lip and had his stomach curling in protest along with his mind growing in pain.

Dumbledore and Bagman stood nearest to the shore, smiling out at them, but Percy wasn't waiting. Looking much younger than usual and very white, he went splashing out into the water to meet them.

"Aww," Lily couldn't help but coo slightly, wondering just how much Percy had been told of what was going on, how seriously he'd have taken this task and if he'd been wondering about Harry taking so long because something was wrong with Ron.

Meanwhile Madame Maxime was trying to restrain Fleur,

"Oh good," Sirius said absently, he really had been concerned what had happened to her to stop her grabbing her sister and was glad she hadn't been a casualty this challenge.

who was busy being hysterical, fighting tooth and nail to return to the water.

"I don't want to hear anyone calling Harry over reacting now," James arched a brow, if honestly impressed at the girl. "She's the one who's clearly thinking her sister was really in danger."

"Apparently it was just the actual victims who didn't know they weren't really victims," Remus snorted, though that still didn't track right with Krum and Diggory. Either they'd worked out the hostages weren't really in danger, which was odd as Harry and Fleur hadn't gotten that memo, or they hadn't stuck around enough to care.

She was screaming for Gabrielle, demanding to know if she was okay, or hurt?

Harry tried to tell her she was fine, but was so exhausted he could barely catch his own breath.

Percy had Ron seized tight to him, while Ron was vainly struggling to get free.

Causing all of them to have smiles of happiness for that moment, erasing the last of their worry for whatever Harry had been feeling from the top of their minds, for now. Whatever he'd been remembering would come, and they'd deal with it then, for now it was to adorable to pass up the moment for Sirius to tease Percy, "I'm going to remember this the next time he's spouting off about how important his cauldron bottom report is."

Flure got herself free and came forward, clinging to her sister and apologizing that it had been the grindylows that had stopped her.

"Well obviously Beauxbatons doesn't have as good of a DADA teacher as Harry got," James smiled pompously for his friend, while Remus rolled his eyes at Prongs.

She was in tears as she sobbed over her sister, while Harry was forced over by the others and had a blanket wrapped so tight around him he felt like a burrito, and was force fed a potion that made his ears steam.

"Don't want you catching a cold on top of everything," Lily happily agreed.

Hermione waddled up to him, praising what a good job he'd done, figuring this out all by himself.

"She's so surprised when I can do anything without her," Harry mock pouted.

Harry was fixing to correct he'd had help from Dobby, but then he spotted Karkaroff trying to listen in. He'd been the only judge not to be so visibly relieved by their return.

"As if I needed more confirmation he was a heartless scumbag," Sirius scoffed.

Harry pitched his voice as loud as he could for him to hear that Harry had indeed done just that.

James let out a booming laugh of pride at that, ruffling his son's hair as the father told that had been a classic move.

Krum tried to draw back Hermione's attention that she had a beetle in her hair,

There was a slight buzz in the base of Harry's skull, something telling him he should know something about that, but since he was still suffering from his last memory shock he didn't even give the feeling a glance.

Harry was sure Krum was trying to remind her who'd really saved her from the lake

Lily couldn't help but feel just slightly bad for Krum, he clearly really liked Hermione and yet he was most likely jealous of any attention Hermione ever gave Harry.

but Hermione just impatiently brushed the bug away and kept talking to Harry, telling him he was way outside of his time limit though and asking if he'd gotten lost?

Harry didn't really answer fully.

"More like, I found you first, I just stuck around the longest," Remus finished for him when it was clear Harry was going to trail off, in modesty or embarrassment he wasn't sure.

His stupidity was growing by the moment, now that he was clear headed it seemed obvious Dumbledore wouldn't have let them die just because the champion had failed.

"Well sure, in hindsight," Lily rolled her eyes, "but no one had better blame you for thinking otherwise, I wouldn't have really put it past them at this point."

He should have just grabbed Ron and gone, Cedric and Krum had.

"I hope you don't start using them as role models," James sniffed in disgust, he wasn't particularly fond of either of them even if they did sometimes amuse.

They hadn't taken the mersong seriously...

"How do you know how I would have taken it?" Sirius demanded at once, "you never showed it to me?"

Harry still laughed again, whatever feelings he had at himself vanishing at Sirius' distraction.

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson.

"Why am I not surprised Dumbledore speaks mermish," Remus chuckled, suddenly this whole task made a lot more sense to him, it wouldn't surprise him in the least if Dumbledore was actually on friendly terms with the merpeople.

When he was done he called the judges over to him so they could discuss all of the champions before releasing the scores.

Madam Pomfrey was now trying to rescue Ron from Percy, then tried to go for Fleur and her sister, but the elder girl refused and insisted her sister was to be looked after first. Then she swooped in on Harry, thanking him for saving her though he hadn't had to.

Harry belligerently agreed, now wishing he'd left her tied up with the rest of the girls.

Sirius released a sharp bark of laughter, guess Harry had a petty side when he got embarrassed.

"Oh I'm sure Hermione would have loved to hear that one," Lily giggled.

"Don't let Cho hear you thinking that one," James gave his son a winning smile, "she probably thought you grabbed the wrong hostage, she was likely thinking she'd been both yours and Cedrics."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Harry grumbled at the lot of them still smirking. "You know you were thinking the exact same thing as me."

"Yes," Remus agreed, "but we admit to it."

Fleur bent and gave Harry a kiss on each cheek, much to his burning embarrassment,

Harry was now wishing he'd passed out when he had the chance, it would have been much kinder than having to watch them all collapse laughing at his cherry red face.

then she turned on Ron and thanked him for helping as well.

Ron agreed he'd done a bit, still looking hopefully at her.

"I'm sure he's very hopeful for something," Sirius got out around his laughter.

Fleur swooped down and kissed him too.

Harry couldn't help joining in the laughter this time, Ron had looked so pleased and flustered at the same time.

Hermione looked furious,

"What's eating her?" James demanded lightly, "they're just getting thanked is all."

"I'm sure Hermione's just upset because she was fixing to, err, thank him as well," Sirius tried to insist around his chuckles.

but was interrupted by Bagman announcing for all to hear that the Merchieftainess had told of what all had happened and the scores were as follows out of fifty.

Flure had successfully used a Bubble-Head Charm,

"I've never heard of that," Lily pouted.

"You think it's a new spell invented?" Remus asked curiously. "Sounds simple enough in theory, wonder what year it's taught at."

"Clearly more than a fifth year, or Hermione would have come across it," Sirius shrugged.

but was attacked by grindylows, and failed to retrieve her hostage. So was awarded twenty- five points.

"Still half credit for the magic, seems fair," Lily agreed.

Polite applause followed while Flure told how she didn't deserve any.

Sirius couldn't deny he sort of liked her again for that, she clearly wasn't all about herself as she put on if she was humble enough to admit that.

Diggory, also using the same Charm,

"I'm extremely insulted for Harry," James pouted, "it would have been nice if he'd passed that along to Harry along with his stupid clue, or at least told him what book to be in."

Lily wanted to argue that would have been handing Harry the whole task, even Harry hadn't told Cedric how he was getting past his dragon, but really she wouldn't have been upset about it either as Harry had clearly needed the help.

"He should get points off for using the same thing as another champion," Sirius sighed. "I'd accuse them of conspiring."

was the first back but still outside his time limit of an hour by a minute.

"Wow, even first place didn't get there fast enough," Remus said in surprise, "I think they didn't estimate that time limit correctly."

"I'll send them a note," Sirius said with a careless shrug.

He was given forty-seven points.

His supporters went wild with applause while Harry's hopes plummeted, if Cedric had been late Harry was doomed.

Krum had used some Transfiguration work and came back second, winning forty points.

"I can see that," James nodded along, though he'd half been hoping both those boys would get some points taken off for not being like Harry and hanging around, though this could possibly be more of a reason why Cedric hadn't gotten a perfect score. James was certainly going to keep thinking so.

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

"I'm sure he would have awarded a whole fifty if he could have gotten away with it," Sirius muttered to no one's disagreement.

Then there was Harry, who'd arrived first but according to eyewitness had stayed behind until all hostages were safe, even retrieving the last hence his delay in returning. His two friends looked at him half in exasperation, half commiseration.

Harry couldn't stop a small smile though, he missed being around his friends and was imagining what they would have said to him had they been here with him now.

Most of the judges, Bagman paused to give a nasty look at Karkaroff, had felt this showed his moral fiber and should be given full points.

"Wow," all of them blinked in surprise, pleased beyond words Harry was getting recognized for this act, and Karkaroff could sod off for thinking otherwise.

Instead, he'd received forty-five points.

Harry blushed as he was congratulated all around for this, pleased beyond words at their praise no matter how much he tried to convince them to move along, it wasn't that big of a deal, it's what anyone would have done...

Harry laughed in surprised as his friends began jumping around for joy, Ron congratulating him he wasn't just thick, he'd been showing moral fiber!

"Technically you were doing both," James beamed at him, "you're just that good at multitasking."

Fleur was clapping along happily as well, and while Krum tried to turn away and talk to Hermione again, she was too busy cheering for Harry to notice.

"That's his problem," Sirius sniffed, "he should have used that stupid shark head for something more useful than nearly ripping her in half."

Bagman rounded off by saying that the final task would happen at dusk on June 24th.

Harry felt a mounting sense of doom at the very idea, but he was still enjoying himself just a little too much at the warm attention from his family to give it much thought.

The champions would be given more details before hand, in the meantime, they were free to go.

Harry felt dazed as Madam Pomfrey began ushering them all up to the school for a warm change of clothes. He had ages until June to worry about anything again.

"Which will hopefully be your problem," Lily shot at Sirius just to get him to stop smirking for a moment, which worked much to her pleasure.

Next time he was in Hogsmeade, Harry decided as he walked back up the steps into the castle, he was going to buy Dobby a pair of socks for every day of the year.

They were very happy indeed they could end a chapter once again laughing outright, no one denying Dobby more than deserved it as Lily got up to swap the book in her hand for her baby while James took the hefty object, noting they were well on their way to being halfway done this year. Hopefully nothing to much more exciting could happen.

[star-anise]

Four Quadrants of Asynchronous Experience

Before I go to bed, a note, since we’ve been talking about Who’s Gifted and Who’s Valid and stuff like that. NB: I’m not saying kids like this are better than anyone else or deserve to be treated as superior. 

Here’s a reputable definition of Giftedness, or Asynchronous Development:

Giftedness is asynchronous development in which advanced cognitive abilities and heightened intensity combine to create inner experiences and awareness that are qualitatively different from the norm. This asynchrony increases with higher intellectual capacity.  The uniqueness of the gifted renders them particularly vulnerable and requires modifications in parenting, teaching, and counseling in order for them to develop optimally.

I would argue that asynchronous development is a neurodivergence, a substantial difference from the standard model of brain most people are expected to have, which, if not properly understood or accommodated, will lead to significant distress or disability.

I’d group it in with other developmental issues, like cognitive impairment, ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, and the Autism Spectrum, and honestly with issues like blindness, hearing loss, or Deafness. These are conditions that are frequently lifelong. I'd place them in a category separate from mental illness.

That’s because it is theoretically possible for a child with one of these issues to be understood, parented, educated, and supported in a way so that they have a happy and fulfilling childhood. They may have functional impairments, but if those are appropriately accommodated, they need not end up being disabled. However, without that accommodation and support, problems can occur.

This makes it a bit different from a lot of mental illnesses whose definition demands suffering. If you have depression, and then stop experiencing significant distress (compared to other people, being numb doesn’t count) then we’d say your depression is cured.

So this gives us, as I count it, four potential scenarios:

1. Asynchronous development is identified and appropriately accommodated. The dream! The kid gets intellectual enrichment appropriate to their level in each domain, education that challenges them but which they can succeed at, realistic expectations, opportunities to experiment and experience constructive failure, attuned adults who can support them emotionally, and peers they can form positive relationships with. Hooray.

2. Asynchronous development is identified, but not appropriately accommodated. The experience of a lot of former gifted children who have been blogging today. Often asynchronous children are made to work far below their level of challenge, punished for having relative strengths in one area and weaknesses in another, expected to perform perfectly all the time, given unrealistic expectations, and their social and emotional development is neglected. The system is fucking up.

3. Asynchronous development is not identified, nor appropriately accommodated. Someone isn’t singled out as a “Gifted Child” or put into advanced classes--they might not even be thought to be particularly smart or capable. They may have other issues that mask their asynchrony, like cultural or linguistic difference, belonging to a marginalized group, physical disabilities, learning disabilities, domain-specific weakness, trauma, or mental illness. They may experience difficulty in school, poor self-image, or social or emotional difficulties.

4. Asynchronous development is not identified, but is appropriately accommodated. Although the child is significantly out of step with their agemates, their developmental environment is responsive and appropriate. They are given work at their level of challenge; they have peers that provide them with acceptance and community; the adults around them can provide them with the support and attunement they need. 

The last one tends not to happen in modern formal schooling, since a major part of the Western school system is rigidly assigning work by age group. However, some non-Western systems of education, and alternative educational environments, manage to provide upbringings and educations sufficiently tailored to each student’s needs that a child does not need to be labelled as unusual to receive appropriate education.

[justjessame]

Avery Emerson Clay: Could I Interest You In A Nice Beating Instead?

I know what most of you are thinking - if Clay were in my position (or Dad, or Hell even Jake) they would probably NOT rush into poking and then fighting the bear that tried to do a reverse Goldilocks in my bed, but you know what? I’m NOT Clay OR Dad OR Jake for that matter. I’m Avery Emerson Von Houton Clay (yes, I DID go full heiress title) and I was PISSED off.

“You’re adorable,” Max scrunched up his nose as he took in me standing next to MY bed, feet shoulder width apart, ready to take on his pansy ass. “I’m not going to fight you, Avery. No matter how badly you want me to.” I glared down at him. “Come here, sit down, you’re cute, but you really don’t want to try me, sweetheart.” He actually patted MY bed, like I was a puppy and he OWNED it. “Come along.” If my eyes got any narrower, I was pretty fucking certain I would be as nearsighted as Jake without his glasses.

I considered attacking him on the bed, but then took a deep breath and realized that the entire point he was making was that we were ALIKE. OK, so Avery, let’s try to BE LESS like this dick. Let’s try to tap into the other part of our genetic makeup - the commando part. Time to play WWFCD? (What Would Franklin Clay Do?) Either the OG or the Sequel would probably try to gather more intel, which meant, as much as I’d rather rip my own limbs off and bleed out - I guess I’d be joining Max in my bed again. Fuck.

Relaxing out of attack mode, I sat down on the edge of my bed. “Avery,” Max sounded like he was bleeding patience and I wished like hell that he was just bleeding. “That doesn’t look very comfortable. Come now, up here next to me.” He patted the spot next to him and I contemplated biting him, since he was treating me like a bitch, why fucking not? He grinned and I had a dark feeling that he knew what I was thinking. “Let’s save the biting for when we’re a little more comfortable with one another, shall we?” I suspected that he was trying to sound seductive, just like Mom had asked if he’d been in the elevator, but all I could think about was how he was a shitty substitute for Jake.

Play along, I told myself, and scooted up to sit next to him against my headboard. “Better?” I asked, and fought against flinching when he reached out and took my hand in his. Linking our fingers, I allowed it, but again his soft and perfectly manicured hands were a far cry from the hands that I wanted touching me. “Will you tell me where my cats and dogs are now?”

“Your pets are fine, Avery.” Again, like with Rose he acted like they didn’t matter - to him they didn’t. “A sedative that I had triple checked by a very expensive vet was added to their food and water - they’re in kennels and they’re being monitored by the best that money can pay for.” But not by me, I thought, and they would be terrified. “You’ll be reunited with them, I promise.”

“Mom and Dad?” My mom’s bracelets, that she still wore after ALL these years, came to me in another flash of terror. Please don’t let this idiot have given her something worse to wear instead. And Dad? God, please don’t let him be TRULY retired.

“Again, safe. Quiet and tucked away.” His fingers were tracing my skin, and I felt like I was being touched by something slithery and gross. “Your father is quite the fighter - I can see where Clay gets it from.” A twist of fear hit me low. “Tranq darts can stop the biggest badasses in their tracks, lucky for him.” Fuck. “As for Clay - and his team.” The icy chill of real terror creeped down my spine. “You have to know, Avery, I cannot let them live. Any of them.”

I thought about what he was saying, what he wasn’t saying as well - while he was touching me and considered Clay and Dad - how we worked in the library even while this asshole and his dunces listened in. I’d done it, clearly, I’d pushed hard enough to get him out in the open. Sadly it worked a little TOO well, but what could I do to fix it?

“Tell me about yourself?” His jacket, folder, file - the intel on Max was miniscule. But he wanted me to think we were MEANT to be - destined - soulmates, right? So prove it. “Who are you?”

“Me?” I nodded, twisting our hands so I was touching HIM now. Tracing the lines of his veins, the lines that the so-called psychics at the carnivals would have called his life lines or love lines, trying to show him that I was gaining interest in US. “What do you want to know?”

“Where are you from? What do you do? Who ARE you?” I looked up at him from under my lashes, keeping myself from batting them - let’s not overplay our fucking hand here. “If you want me to believe that you WANT me, Max, then I should know YOU, shouldn’t I?”

He studied me, clearly looking for any sign that would trigger his bullshit meter, but you know what? Max wasn’t a Clay and he clearly didn’t have the internal lie detector that we were born with, because instead of tossing my ass onto the floor and getting the fight started, he cupped my cheek and started talking. Fucking amateur.

I listened to every single word that Max said, and honest to fuck, once I got his ass talking he seemed to LOVE the sound of his own voice. The epic tale of where Max began and ended went on and on and on - I nearly went fucking batshit listening. But I had to, because I knew, from being raised at the elbow of Franklin Clay Senior and following Franklin Clay Junior around like a puppy begging scraps that every single target will eventually tell you exactly where their weakness lies - all you have to do is LISTEN.

I wasn’t only looking for how to hit him hard, mostly because I knew that if I could do what I really was working toward - Clay would do that - but I wanted to know if MY actual plan would work. If what I wanted to try would have any type of chance in the flames of hell of working. And as I listened, I thought that it might, if only to save one - but I only had to save ONE. Because I knew if I could save ONE - like dominoes the others would follow.

“Pooch,” Max’s eyes locked on mine, I’d actually gotten closer to him by the end of his tale and I was almost curled onto his lap - my hand on his heart and our faces inches apart. “He just became a father.”

“I know,” he looked at me as if he was waiting for me to explain why I’d bother telling him something he knew about and could give two shits about.

I bit my lip and let my fingertip trace his lower lip. “I think it would be incredibly sad for his son to grow up without a father -” he started to argue, but I stopped him by tapping his lips with that same finger. “Aisha is after you for having her father killed, isn’t she?”

Max considered what I was saying. “She’s an adult, Avery, Pooch’s son is an infant.”

“Infants grow up,” I murmured, letting my eyes drift to his lips as if I wanted so badly to taste him - ew - but I needed to keep up the game. “And when boy children grow up knowing their fathers were killed in less than fair conditions -” Plant the seed, water it, wait for it to take root.

He grew quiet and I waited for a few beats, but I knew eventually I was going to have to sweeten the deal. As badly as I wanted to NOT have to. “You think that Pooch’s son could be a threat one day,” before he could consider killing another child, I nodded and then moved in, moving my finger and nudging his nose with mine. Letting our lips meet, taking him off guard, I shut my eyes and let him take over.

I never quite understood that old quote “Shut your eyes and think of England.” Yeah, I get it now. It wasn’t that he was a bad kisser, it was just that I’d rather kiss the ass end of one of my goats. But I had to pretend, and fake it like I’d never in my life faked anything in my life. Giving a slight moan, letting my tongue touch his, even nipping his lower lip - but the entire time I was also telling my stomach to NOT empty into his mouth.

When I pulled away, panting a little heavier than I needed to, Max looked at me like he was thinking he made the right choice and I was thanking God that he was an idiot.

“I think that if you gave Pooch his family and an incentive to live happily ever after with them, he’d walk away and never glance back at you or this entire fucking situation,” I whispered when we both were ‘recovered’ from our first kiss. “Please?”

“Are you bargaining with me, Avery?” Max was smiling, not smirking, not mocking - he was just asking me if that was my game.

“Yes,” I answered with a nod. “I am, because if you want me to walk off with you into the sunset - after you kill my brother and -” I ignored the flash of pain I felt at the thought of Jake. “his team, then ONE new father shouldn’t bother you.”

“One new dad,” his thumbs were sliding under my eyes and I waited. “Pooch for Clay?” I waited. “You would give up your own brother for him?” I didn’t answer. “Alright.”

“OK,” I agreed, swallowing and hoping against fucking hope that Pooch would understand my fucking plan without hearing it.

“But,” he drew my attention back to his face. “We have to finalize it -”

I nodded, thinking we’d shake hands or whatever - I’d sign something stupid.

I wasn’t expecting him to start pulling my tank straps off my shoulders, his lips meeting my skin. “Consummating our relationship is the perfect way to do that, isn’t it, Avery?” FUCK. Literally.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The One That Stays

Keanu Reeves x reader  (A/n- Releases for this one will be on Sundays)

Chapter 1- Acquaintance 

“‘Cause baby when I heard you, For the first time I knew, We were meant to be as one.” -Kylie Minogue, Love At First Sight.

Parties had never really been her scene, they were loud, everyone always got sweaty and the general smell of perspiration mixing with alcohol was never one she had grown particularly fond of. This one was no different. If only she had found a way out of it in time. 

"Come on," a female voice said next to Y/n, and their arms linked at the elbows, "This is my work party, we're supposed to be having fun!"

"Julie....." Y/n groaned, frowning, "You know this isn't my scene."

"I never understood that," she giggled, "You like booze, you like music. Parties put those things together for you, what's not to like?"

"The people," Y/n stated plainly, offering a deadpan stare, "I don't like people."

Julie rolled her eyes, urging Y/n up, taking a long swing of her drink before continuing her arguement, "Well," she broke into another winning smile and Y/n was beginning to think that her friend was already drunk, "You love me, and I'm a person."

Y/n sighed, partly in exasperation, but mostly in humor, "That's different, you're....different." Juile was different, she had been Y/n's best friend since middle school. They were inseparable.

Julie finished her drink with a sigh of her own, "Look," she began, tone a little more even than before, "I know you don't like all of this," she gestured to the crowd on the dance floor, "And I know that I've been dragging you to parties since we were in high school, but I swear, this time I brought you here for a reason," when Y/n tilted her head to the side in question, Julie finished, "I want you to meet someone!"

"Who?"

"You'll see," she sang, beaming and Y/n couldn't help but smile in return, "But in the mean time, let's get you a stronger drink."

It was nearing ten pm and Julie was already drunk. Like ‘slurring her words’, ‘wobbling while she walked’ drunk. Y/n had had significantly less than she had, already realizing that she would have to chaperone before Julie did something that she might regret. “Where is this person anyway?” Y/n asked finally, almost having to shout over the music.

“Who?” Julie returned, scrunching her noise, still swaying in time with the beat.

“The person you wanted me to meet,” Y/n tired to ease the glass out of Julie’s hand, setting it on their table, urging her to sit, “Maybe you’ve had too many martinis. Stay here, I’ll get you some water.”

As Y/n stood, Julie grabbed her wrist, “Don’t be such a drag Y/n/n. We’re young and free!” She giggled, using her free hand to make exaggerated gestures, “Just.....” for a moment she trailed off, plump pink lips going agape and her glassy blue eyes went wide, presumably with recognition, “There he is!” She pointed to a figure sitting on a barstool at another table, half way across the room, talking to a group of people. 

“He?” Y/n probed incredulously, “This person is a ‘he’? Jules, I love you, but this better not be a set up. After that cop you set me up with-”

“Jason was a detective. A hot one that I met through a credible source,” she pouted, trying to tug her hand away from Y/n’s loose grip, “Besides you'll like him. I promise.”

“No.....just....no okay. I’m not dating right now and I have all this work stuff going on and.....I just...” Y/n huffed, she didn’t really have and explanation and Julie didn’t seem to be paying attention anyway.

“Just, shh,” Julie’s slender finger went to Y/n’s lips as she stood, almost stumbling forward, “I know you babe, you’re my sister. I love you. And this guy, he’s amazing. And really, you kind of already know him.” Before Y/n could object again, Julie hand taken her hand, lacing their fingers and pulling Y/n towards the man, whose face had yet to be revealed. 

They weaved through the guests, only bumping into a few who didn’t even seem to notice. As they drew closer, Julie’s arm went up, and she started waving as she called, “Keanu!”

At the sound of his name, the formerly mysterious figure turned around, giving away his identity. Sucking into a shocked breath, Y/n stopped abruptly, “Julie!” She whispered loudly into her friends ear, trying to make her stop too, “That’s Keanu fucking Reeves. That’s the friend you wanted me to meet?”

“Duh,” she laughed, hugging Y/n closer, “Please,” she whined, “You love him!”

“I love his movies,” Y/n corrected matter-of-factly, “How do you know him anyway?”

Julie rolled her eyes, which told Y/n that the reason should have been plainly obvious, “He’s the lead in the movie I was writing for.” Julie, for as long as they had known each other, had maintained big dreams of one day becoming a screen writer. As children she’d write plays, stories and everything else, and eventually, she had gotten the chance to peruse her goals in college, graduating at the top of her film class. 

“He’s in your movie? And you never said anything?” Y/n lightly punched her arm, “That’s the kind of thing you tell your best friend.”

“Nuh-uh,” she argued drunkenly, “I wanted it to be a surprise. We’ve been talking a lot, and I think he might really like you, if you know what I mean,” she elbowed Y/n, winking tragically, “Now, lets not keep the man waiting.”

”Keanu!” A familiar voice called from behind him, again. When he turned around that time, the source was closer, and he recognized her almost instantly as one of his friends from set; Julie Henderson. She had been one of the writers on his latest movie, and during filming, Keanu had grown to enjoy her bubbly personality. So, when she had mentioned that she might have a friend he might be interested in, he didn’t turn it down the way he had other blind dates. 

Finally, they approached and he said a quick goodbye to the group he had been hanging with, “Julie,” he greeted, letting her pull him into a short, one handed hug; her other was hooked to a young girl, about her age, “I wasn’t sure if I’d see you tonight,” Keanu commented casually.

“Yeah, I’ve been busy babysitting this one,” she teased, gesturing to Y/n, who rolled her eyes, “Speaking of, this is my sister; Y/n!”

Nervously chewing on her lower burgundy stained lip, Y/n offered her hand, “We’re not actually sisters,” she corrected, clearing up any confusion, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Keanu couldn’t help but let his smile widen. Her hand felt so small and fragile in his. And maybe it was weird, but he couldn’t stop staring at her, she was just so beautiful. Short brunette bob, one side tucked sweetly behind her ear, showing of the little jewels that ran up the side of her ear. Her silk, black, mini dress hugged her slender curves loosely, and was complimented perfectly by a lone teardrop diamond that hung in the hollow of her throat, “I’ve heard good things.”

“I can’t say the same,” Y/n joked, only realizing after a minute that they had yet to release each other, “I think I forgot that Julie’s way too good at keeping secrets.”

Keanu chuckled quietly, but before he could speak, Julie interrupted, “Since you two have hit it off so well,” she discreetly glanced at their still joined hands, “I’m gonna get myself another drink.”

They watched her go and Keanu was next to speak, “I guess that’s her way of telling us that we should get to know each other.”

“As someone who’s known her for over twenty years, I can tell you that it is,” taking a deep breath, Y/n cleared her throat, reclaiming her hand, “So.....”

“So, do you want to get a drink?” Keanu suggested tentatively.

Y/n chortled quietly, shaking her head, “I probably shouldn’t, I have to drive us home and I’ve already had two.”

“Well, how about some fresh air?” He gestured to the open balcony doors near by.

The night air was chilly against Y/n’s exposed skin, though it was a welcome change from the cluster inside. She stood next to Keanu, leaning forward on the brass guard rail, for a while in awkward silence. “Jules, told me you’re a fan,” he smiled, trying to break the ice, soon realizing that there may have been significantly better ways.

“God,” she groaned, cheeks going red as Y/n buried her face in her hands, “Why would she tell you something like that?”

“It’s okay,” Keanu laughed quietly, “It’s actually a little.....flattering, it was true when I said that Julie speaks highly of you. Kind of like you are her sister.”

Y/n exhaled audibly, “Yeah, I know I said that she’s not, but Jules, she really is family. We've known each other for twenty-five years, and now I can’t imagine my life without her.” When Keanu laughed a little louder, Y/n couldn’t seem to find to joke, “What?”

“Nothing,” he waved his hand dismissively, “You two just seem like complete opposites. She’s always talking about how shy and serious you are, how she’s always trying to get you to loosen up. And Julie’s so....”

“Loud? It's okay, you can say it, the woman is loud.”

“I was gonna say social,“ he interjected.

Y/n giggled, “That works too. But it doesn’t matter,” she shook her head, dark hair brushing against her skin in slow, distracting motions, “She’s one of the best people in my life, the ying to my yang,” Y/n mused with a faint hum. 

“That’s good,” Keanu nodded, “It’s always special when two people can find missing parts in each other. One thing that compliments the other because of stark differences.”

“So you are as wise as they say,” Y/n teased with a quiet giggle.

“I try,” Keanu put his large hand on the chest of his black dress shirt, right over his heart, slightly bowing. After their laughter died down, Y/n and Keanu stood in another bout of silence, that one just a tad more comfortable than the first. The space between them had been cut in half, with about six inches of cold air between them as they looked on at the rolling hills in the distance. The trees that barely shrouded the famous Hollywood sign looked like mere shadows and the lights around was the only indication that they were still in a city that throbbed with life; they were too far up to hear much of it. 

When the silence became almost unbearable, Keanu was the one to break it, almost startling Y/n with his words, “Jules said you work in finance.”

“Yupp, I’m a Financial Manager,” she went on to explain how she worked for a cosmetics company, but didn’t really give a lot of details, “It’s not as glamorous as.....” She gestured to Keanu.

In return, he laughed quietly, “Glamor is overrated, besides if you love it, then it doesn’t matter if there are cameras in your face or a pen in you hand.”

Y/n smiled softly, biting her lip, “I guess you’re right,” Keanu could have sworn she was blushing.

Keanu chuckled quietly and then turned to her, an idea turning in his head. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and he leaned on the banister, “Tell me something about yourself.”

“What?” She laughed, maybe a little louder than she should have, “Anything?”

“Anything. I’m not good at all this ice breaker stuff. So just hit me with a random fact about whatever makes you ‘you’.” 

“Okay,” she hummed, looking as if she was thinking hard, “I scrape the frosting off cake and save it for last.”

Y/n’s bright eyes, hooded only by her dark make-up stared up at Keanu, as if challenging him to come up with something stranger, “That is.....very random. And really weird.”

“It is. Your turn,” she encouraged.

“I turn on reruns just so the house doesn't feel lonely,” at first, Y/n’s smile continued, but after a beat, her face faltered, her eyes dimmed and Keanu thought he recognized pity in her eyes. “Well that’s just sad, isn’t it?” He tried to joke lightly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No,” she hummed, turning back towards the awning view. The lights from surrounding buildings made the lamps mounted to the wall almost mute and the balcony doors had long been pulled in by some party goer or the other, leaving the two alone. It was if they had been granted the opportunity to have their own little bubble for a while; a self contained half hour that would determine if they ever saw each other again.

“It’s just,” Y/n continued, searching for the right words, glancing at Keanu. He really was handsome, it wasn’t just some kind of camera trick, the kind that her mother always talked about. Instead, age had been kind to him, and he appeared far more youthful than many of the men her age, the only tells being the flecks of grey hidden in his neatly trimmed beard and long hair. “It’s.....human.”

For some reason, the urge to put her hand on his shoulder tickled her palm, but instead of touching him, Y/n took a chance at stepping a little closer, a little surprised when Keanu did the same.

“Human things can be sad,” he commented absently.

Y/n smiled sadly, turning to find that he had been looking at her; eyes squinted in concentration as if she were some kind of complex art, something to be studied, memorized, and she didn’t know that Keanu was thinking it but, appreciated. “They can be,” Y/n returned wistfully, “But only if we make them.”

“You seem different,” Keanu eventually said, and Y/n tilted her head in silent question.

“You can’t know that, we just met,” her little laugh was a musical one, and Keanu wondered if he’d ever be fortunate enough to hear it again. He wanted to know her, outside of those thirty minutes spent of a chilly balcony. He wanted to see if he could be the reason for more light breathy laughs, find out if she could be as close to someone else as she was to Julie, what made her smile and what she absolutely hated. Keanu wasn’t sure if he wanted to date her, but he did want to know her.

“You’re right,” he agreed, “I can’t, but I’d like too.” When was the last time he had been that forward? He couldn’t remember, but maybe, just maybe, Y/n would be worth it.

“Oh?” Y/n’s smile widened despite herself. The last thing she wanted to come off as was eager, but she was beginning to get the feeling that Keanu wasn’t one to mind, “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing yet,” in a bout of nervousness, he quickly cast his gaze to the distance, licking his lips, quickly refocusing on Y/n before the minute was up, “Go out with me.”

“Like a date?” She raised her arched eyebrows.

“Like a date,” Keanu determined, “This Friday, if its good for you.”

“It’s good for me,” she nodded, “So Friday,” Y/n bite her lower lip, “It’s a date.”

“It is, I’ll look forward to it,” he giggled, feeling like a teenager high on infatuation.

Y/n giggled too, casting her head down, and for the first time, Keanu noticed that even in her dangerous looking heels, she was only tall enough to reach just above the center of his chest. “I will-” Just like that, Y/n was cut off, her phone shrieking loudly in her hand, “It’s Jules,” she explained hurriedly, already answering the call, “Hey hun,” she turned away, taking a few steps to the furthest corner of the balcony, “Yeah.......okay.......well just sit tight.”

With a shuddering breath, Y/n hung up, a little disappointed that her moment with Keanu would have to be cut short that soon, “I have to go. Jules is.......” she trailed off, trying to find the most pleasant way to say that her best friend was throwing up and possibly causing a scene in the ladies room, “She’s......drunk.”

Getting the message by her obvious grimace, Keanu nodded, trying to hide his cringe, “Got it,” he waved as Y/n walked backwards to the door, hand closing in on the knob, “Hope she feels better.”

“Thanks,” Y/n was still smiling, the excitement of knowing that she had a date still brand new, “I’ll see you Friday.”

“You definitely will,” Exhaling giddily, Keanu stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, leaning against the guard rail.

“I look forward to it,” and then deciding that she sounded a little to excited, Y/n awkwardly and hastily added, “In a non-weird way. I should go.” With that, she pushed the door open, disappearing inside, leaving Keanu alone, and in just as much anticipation. 

[specialagentlokitty]

Jane x reader - Won’t tell

How about a mentalist imagine were the reader is emotionally closed off (kinda like Cho, but even more so, if that's possible) so like the reader doesn't show how she feels about anything. Then during pizza after a case that like involved a child or something the reader breaks down. And just sits at her desk and crys BC it reminded her of her childhood or something??? ) when the reader breaks down at Thier desk everyone is just shocked at first because the reader never shares that part of themselve. If you ain't feeling it I get that. Have a good evening! (Or morning if it is morning for you lol) - Anon❤️

A/N: APPARENTLY THERES NO GIFS FOR THIS ANYMORE WTF?!?!?!?!

Sitting at your desk, you ignored the chatter of your team members as you tried to focus on your report.

“Are you okay (Y/N)?” Rigsby asks.

Flicking your gaze up, you simply glanced backed down to your paper.

“I’m fine.” Your monotone voice replied.

“Why not get some pizza? Take a break, paper work can wait.” Lisbon said gently.

“I’d much rather get it done.”

Ignoring them once again, you begun to focus on the case so you could get your report 100% correct, but the more you thought about it the worse you felt.

Placing your pen down, you pushed your chair back a little bit and crossed your legs, folding your hands into a prayer motion under your chin, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, unable to hold the tears back.

The more you thought about what had happened to the children, the worse you felt. Not only because of what they had been through, but because you understood their pain, the only difference was you were still here.

“(Y/N)...” grace said gently.

Everyone turned to you to find you quietly crying in your chair, tears streaming down your face as held back sobs.

“I... Ive never seen her cry before...” rigsby whispered.

“This case must’ve hit something..” Cho replied.

Jane watched you for a silent moment before he quietly walked over and softly placed his hand on your shoulder.

“What’s the matter?” He asked gently.

Shaking your head, you wiped your eyes, but the tears carried on falling.

“Nothing, I’m perfectly fine. I have to go...”

Despite your voice still emotionless, the tears from your eyes told another story. Brushing Jane off, you quickly grabbed your coat and bag and jogged out, deciding to run down the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, you heard another set of steps behind you.

“(Y/N) wait! Please!” Jane called.

You sped up, but as you jumped from the last step, Jane gently grabbed your wrist and spun you around, without a word he pulled you into his chest, placing one hand on the back of your head while the other ran up and down your back.

“It’s alright.” He said softly.

“It’s.. it’s not alright!” You argued, “they went through such horrible things... things no kid should ever go through... and... and if they whad survived they would have been haunted by it forever ...”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience. Have you... been through something like that...?” He carefully asked.

You just meekly nodded, balling you hand in the fabric of his blazer, you took a deep breath and grabbed hold of your emotions.

“Yes... but... I don’t want to talk about it... I don’t want to talk about the case either..”

Jane pulled away and wiped your tears, then he flashed you a warm smile.

“How about we go get something to eat then?”

Just as he said that your stomach rumbles and you glanced away awkwardly.

“That sounds good.”

Jane took your things and begun to walk with you to your car, only to stop when you gently pulled his sleeve.

“Hm?”

“I... I don’t want you to tell the others what I said... will you keep it between us, please? Until I’m ready?”

“Of course (Y/N) I won’t tell another soul.”

Nodding your head, you carried on walking, mentally putting your barriers back up, but who knows, maybe one day you could take them down