#internally the need she feels to convince him verges on desperate

[sun-marie]

on the subject of post-game Rookanis and Crow politics, "Preybirds" by Rabbitology is a great song, I think, for a non-crow Rook trying to get Lucanis to leave the Crows/deny being First Talon because they can see where that road ends, and only being able to sadly watch for now

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

hear me out: villain!todofam, but it's not dabi who recruits them.

it's tomura. because dabi's spiralling and tomura can't help but think he needs someone who really understands him (because he doesn't think he gets it, for some reason). - @hitoshishinzou

Think about Tomura risking it all and showing up one day at the Todorokis house while Natsuo, Fuyumi and Shouto are alone. Tomura looks desperate and he tells them to call Endeavor if they want, but first, he asks them to hear him out.

“It's about Touya.”

Tomura asks Shouto to freeze his hands. He doesn't seem to care if he can lose them. Maybe that's why Shouto decides his gonna give him one chance, before calling their dad.

Tomura quickly explains that Dabi is Touya and shows them a photo he took while Dabi was dyeing his hair. He tells them he knows his betraying his best friend, but— But he takes the risk. For his family.

And because Dabi is a fucking blind man in need of saving, because he's on the verge of losing his own life and bringing the League down on the process.

Tomura doesn't get why Dabi cares so much about Stain, but he knows Dabi's obsession with both Stain and Endeavor got him one step for falling. He needs someone how cares about him enough to try and understand, someone who was there to witness Endeavor's abuse, someone Dabi would listen to.

Fuyumi and Shouto both think it's a trap. Why would he cared so much about Touya? Why would they believe him? But Natsuo has taken some classes about psychology and human behaviors, enough to see the edge on Tomura's eyes. Not tears, but a raged pain, the frustration of not being able to fix a situation on your own.

Natsuo asks Fuyumi and Shouto to let him go with Tomura. No one needs to know, they can all say Tomura kidnapped him. How? Well, he said he was going to a bar and Shouto and Fuyumi though he was over there. Tomura decides to trust Shouto and gave him the location where Dabi is, but he makes his warning: if the pro-heroes catch Touya, they're going to put him in Tartarus, with no recovery or help.

Shouto tries to deny it, Fuyumi tries to say he's a murderer, but Natsuo says he would never forgive them if they let Touya died twice. He wants to try, he has studied the League's victims, they are mostly other villains. Maybe he's insane, but he owns his brother as much.

Shouto and Fuyumi can't sleep that night. Meanwhile, Shigaraki asks Natsuo to don't tell Dabi about their talk. Turns out the whole League has been plotting behind Dabi's back how to help him.

Giran introduces Natsuo to the group as their local doctor. Dabi almost lost his mind, but Natsuo pretends he doesn't recognize him. His excuse is that he's been worrying about them, because for him even villains deserve health treatments.

Natsuo gets surprised with the League. They are so kind and welcoming, maybe strange and scary, but not the monsters the TV talks about. And they all act so well, but from so close he can finally see the cracks of hurt among all the anger.

Dabi is bad. He almost cries when he sees his brother so full of burns and scars, of staples. What about his internal organs? His hygiene? He can't cry, can he? Where does he get the medicine? Does he go to the doctor? Do they even have a thermometer to measure if one of them has a fever?

He doesn't do much that night. He comes back in the morning and Fuyumi and Shouto interrogates him, but he's so full of hatred. Hatred towards his dad, towards the system. Around 19 years has passed, his brother was on the streets while they were surrounded by a fortune. His father was accumulating fame while Dabi was out there, getting infections and losing movement.

Fuyumi and Shouto barely convinces Natsuo to only go sometimes to see the League. Shouto doesn't even know what he should do, tell the heroes or not. He doesn't want to lose both his brothers, he doesn't want to betray his friends. Fuyumi keeps pretending it's not that bad, but she's shaking from fear.

Natsuo and Dabi keep getting closer as they used to be on the meanwhile. Natsuo grows to understand more and more what drives the League and even when he doesn't share their beliefs, he's trying hard to putting them on another way.

That's when Shouto realizes the great danger Natsuo is in. Thankfully, Izuku is also starting to see the real kid behind Tomura, thanks to All Might and Shouto. Shouto convinces the heroes to let him become a secret member of the League.

So you have two Todorokis already on the League, hmm.

Rei joins them by faking her own death and going with her sons. Like son, like mother.

At that point, Dabi had been angry several times, had had a few breakdowns but thankfully, after Natsuo convincing him them living with him on the League is just gonna piss Endeavor even more, Dabi allows them by his side.

And boy, if Dabi missed them.

Since Endeavor knows nothing about Natsuo's life, he doesn't know. Since Shouto fakes to be a double agent, Endeavor doesn't ask. Since Endeavor thinks Rei is dead, he has no idea.

And then Fuyumi starts visiting them, because by some weird change in the wheel of fortune, now they're mostly villains, apparently. She's surprised to feel safe within the League, and she's surprised to find out about the members of the League. She's particularly fond of Toga and Twice, because she can see clearly why society rejected them and how did that affect them.

Let's choose a world where Rei manages to make the hatred towards his father reduce within Dabi. Let's imagine he wants a way out of that madness, but he still wants to watch the world burn, at least a little.

And let's imagine the other members of the League agree with that. They don't want to destroy it all. But how can they even scape AFO's shadow? How can they defeat the heroes too?

That's when Shouto begins his plan along class 1-A to expose the corruption within the hero system to change it all, while finding a way to help Tomura defeat AFO.

And at the center of the chaos, the Todorokis making sure to protect Dabi at all cost.

[airi-p4]

Ice Dreams - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | …

Header art is traditional art drawn by me about one year ago - Full pic HERE.

Summary

Despite being very talented and loving to skate, Marinette is determined to quit Figure Skating after the lack of decent results and the great amount of stress and pressure on her shoulders.

On the other hand, Juleka and Luka are average skaters in pairs category who, after years of hard work, have finally started showing some good results. But suddenly, Juleka is forced to retire, leaving Luka at the verge of retirement because of his need for a partner.

Can Juleka convince Luka and Marinette to give figure skating a second chance? Can they form a bond strong enough to reach the top and accomplish their dreams? Could something more than partnership spark between them?

AO3

________________________________

CHAPTER 2: Luka

“C’mon, Juleka,” Luka said, finishing his warm up on the ice rink. “Today we’ll nail it! Are you read-”

*PLOF*

A sudden sound startled him: it was Juleka, his sister, who fell flat on the ice floor.

“Juleka! Hey! Can you hear me?” Luka panicked, rushing to check on her. She wasn’t moving. “Someone! Call an ambulance, NOW!”

___________________________

‘I can’t believe I didn’t notice,’ he thought, sinking between his shoulders. ‘I knew how she was getting more and more thin everyday, I noticed how her weight was lighter. I thought it was because I got stronger. I thought it was her make-up or her clothes. How come I couldn’t notice how light she weighs? Why couldn’t I help her earlier? Why did she have to end up in the hospital? Why am I such a failure as a brother? As a partner… After everything she’s given to me...’

‘Now’s my time to be there for her. This needs to stop’

“Juleka! You’re up!” Luka called, back from his thoughts when the sheets of her hospital bed moved and she slowly opened her eyes.

“What happened? Where…? What happened with practice…? Did I fail a jump...?” The girl asked, still numb. Luka moved his hand to press check on her and call for the nurse.

“No Juleka, you didn’t fall. You fainted” he explained, as the nurse entered the room to check on her.

“Fainted!? Why?” Juleka yelled, and was shushed by the nurse.

“Look. I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier… It’s my fault”

Luka sighed regretfully and Juleka blinked at him. “Notice what…?”

“Juleka, listen: you’ve been diagnosed with an eating disorder” he said, and she gasped. “I know you’ve always been a picky eater but this… THIS is too much. Your BMI is too low... Look at you. You’ve lost so much weight! You need to stop dieting and eat properly” The nurse nodded and Luka nodded back as she left the room. Juleka’s mouth was still open in surprise.

“I… But I need to look thin… like the other girls… like all those great skaters…”

“No, Juleka, you don’t need to look thin, you need to be healthy. And you shouldn’t be a skater anymore if you can’t do that. From now on, I want you to focus on getting your weight back, on getting healthy again. You looked prettier before, Juleka. Don’t let stupid social standards decide how you should be or look like. Just be yourself. You know mom and I will always love you no matter how you look”

“But I do it for myself, not for others! I like myself more when I’m thinner… look at me, at all this fat. How can anyone say they like it? How could the judges like it? I’m hating it myself!” she cried.

“Well, I like it.” His words were honest and straight. “And I think most boys and girls or people in general would prefer that too.”

“You don’t understand!” she insisted. “I have to-”

“I do understand” He cut her. “You are ill. Your judgement is biased. You can’t see the reality. Do you want to be only bones? Do you want to die? Because I don’t want you to. That’s why I need you to promise me you’ll stay in the hospital until you’re healthy again.”

Juleka’s body jolted in shock. “What!? But, Luka! Our competitions! The skating! We finally made it to internationals this year...! I need to do it, for you too!”

“No. No more competitions or skating for you, Juleka. It’s your time to retire. Mom has already submitted your resignation to the Ice Skating Federation. You can’t skate anymore. You need to rest and get better, and to find a way to recover from your eating disorder”

“But Luka, what about you? You've worked so hard! We finally got a high enough score to get into international competitions. I can’t leave you alone now! What about your dream?” she insisted.

“That’s not as important as you are for me, Jules. I want you to be yourself again” he caressed his sister’s hair softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier… I wish I could have helped you… I know you wanted to help me with lifts and my poor endurance and I was too focused on scoring that I couldn’t notice how these feelings were killing you from the inside. I don’t deserve to be called your partner”

“No, Luka. It was me who kept dragging you down! I can’t land my jumps because I weigh too much. I can’t jump high because of it either. It’s a miracle we made it to so far”

“You did amazing, Juleka. You really did and I’m grateful. But now: no more competition for you or for me either. It’s over. Time to find another goal. Both of us” he affirmed.

“No! Luka, even if I don’t compete, you should continue! Find another partner! Many girls would love to work with you! You definitely can accomplish your dream. You just need a more suited partner than me” The purple haired girl stubbornly continued.

“That’s impossible, you know that” Luka remained calm, closed his eyes and let an ironic snicker out. “I don’t get along with other people, I can’t bond with them. Girls? Boys? No matter what you do they always badmouth you about everything. Pure hearted people like you don’t exist, Juleka. I can’t team up with anyone else”

“Luka… But-!”

“This conversation is over” he cut her again, standing up and checking his phone. “I’m going to talk to the doctor and get you something to eat. Mom will be here by midday”

"Wait-"

*Knock knock*

________________________

“Juleka?” Luka checked the room. “Oh your friend already left? How are you? Did you eat everything?”

“Yes…” Her brother could see through her lie.

“Really? What’s this, then?” he pointed at the apple under her pillow

“Ah-”

“You need to eat this apple too, you won’t get healthy otherwise...” Luka said, holding the fruit to peel and cut it for her.

“I know but…” she mumbled.

“This is not a game. It’s serious, Jules” He insisted, offering a piece of apple close to her mouth. “Please…?“

Juleka turned her face away, disgusted. “No. Keep skating”

“We’ve already discussed this. No more skating. You need to get well. Eat” Luka frowned his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about YOU. I don’t want you to give up your dream...”

“You know I can’t skate with anyone else, Jules. Girls hate me. And I hate them. The best is to quit and focus on taking care of you” Luka insisted with the apple and his sister turned her face away again, using her hand to set his hand and the apple aside.

“But Luka! I found someone willing to be your partner, “ she informed. “You just need to give her a chance. To give pairs skating a second chance. Please…? For me…?”

“You know I can’t do that. It’s settled. I’m resigning tomorrow. The papers are ready and-” his hand moved closer again.

“But you don’t want to quit! I know you don’t! Just like Marinette doesn’t really want to quit either!” she yelled, and Luka blinked at her friend’s name.

“Marinette?”

“Yes, Marinette! We used to compete together when I skated in singles. We’ve been friends since then, even though she always won and I was good for nothing… She’s kind and talented. She has a pure heart, Luka. Just like yours.”

“I remember her,” he recalled. “Not much, but I remember how beautiful her skate was. She is far too talented to be interested in switching to pairs”

“She’s going to quit otherwise” Juleka affirmed.

“No way”

“I’m not joking” If it wasn’t for her conviction, he wouldn’t have believed her. “I think she really doesn’t want to quit, but she is determined to. Just like you don’t want to quit either. You just need to find balance in yourselves and you could be an incredible team. You just need to give her a chance…”

There was a moment when Luka seemed to consider the offer, but he cut his thoughts off. “... No. I can’t, Juleka. We came this far together. I can’t keep all the credit alone. C’mon, eat this for me”

“No” she refused again. “I’m not going to eat unless you give it another chance.”

“Juleka, stop being childish. You’re 15”

“I’m not asking much, Luka. Just one try. I beg you!” she slammed her hands on the bed. And stared at Luka with teary eyes, desperate to the boy’s surprise. “I want you to skate for me too…”

Luka found himself staring into Juleka’s eyes and how serious she was. It was more than rare for her to act this selfishly, so he ended up giving in to her request.

“Ok, one chance.” he sighed. “But you’re eating this apple right now”

“Ugh… Ok… For you… and for Marinette…” she let her mouth open for Luka to feed her the apple at last.

“Good girl” Luka smiled, relieved, despite his sister’s disgusted eating face.

‘One more chance, huh...?’

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Twelve: You Deserve to Enjoy Your Body

By SisterSpooky1013 / Rated E

Read previous chapters here / Tagging @today-in-fic

He follows her up the stairwell that leads to her apartment. The complex has seen better days, but when she unlocks the front door he’s surprised to see that the inside is relatively nice. It’s small but tidy, which is no surprise for any place Scully inhabits, and the decor is decidedly young.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, make yourself at home,” she says, then disappears into the bathroom.

He looks around and has an odd feeling that he’s invading someone’s space. There are little trinkets on the shelves, magazines on the table, a stack of bills on the counter, but none of it is Scully. He sits down on the couch but it’s impossibly narrow and low to the ground, as though it were designed for a child. Or a child-sized woman, he supposes. The only other seating options are the table or the bed. The kind of conversation he wants to have with Scully shouldn’t take place at a dinner table, so he sits on the end of her bed, listening to the running shower. He wants to rummage through the drawers, to see the private details of her fabricated life, but he doesn’t. When the water stops running, his heart starts to race.

&&

She steps out of the shower, wiping steam off the mirror with her forearm. Desi has gone down the drain and Scully looks back at her. She frowns, feeling a sense of loss. She’s going to go back out there as Scully, and Scully is going to sidestep her way right out of having an actual conversation with Mulder, just like she always does. Tears prick at her eyes, and she remembers how it felt to be Desi, to be free. She wants to keep that part of her, but she doesn’t know how.

Just ask yourself, ‘what would Desi do?’ and then do that.

Magenta’s words echo in her head. She’s not going to let Desi go just yet.

She suddenly realizes that she hasn’t brought a change of clothes into the bathroom with her, and because it’s a studio apartment, Mulder will be just outside the door. She puts on the short black bathrobe that’s hanging on the back of the door and it hits her thighs just below her ass. She needs to at least have underwear on beneath this; it’s too revealing. Scully would go out, grab a change of clothes, and then come back in here to put them on. But what would Desi do?

She opens the door and is surprised to see Mulder sitting on the bed. His head snaps over to her and a grin blossoms on his face.

“What?” she asks self-consciously.

He shakes his head, but the smile stays. “It’s just good to see you.”

She gives him the eyebrow. “I’ve been gone for ten minutes, Mulder,” she replies dryly.

“Right, um, it’s good to see Scully is what I meant to say. You. Really you.”

Is this really her? She doesn’t want it to be. She walks over to her dresser and opens the top drawer, plucking out a pair of red panties. Her back to him, she steps into them and pulls them up under the robe. He doesn’t make a sound, but she can feel his reaction.

Staying casual so as not to betray her pounding heart, she walks over and turns on the lamp beside the bed, then flicks off the overhead light and lays down. He turns to look at her from his spot at the foot, the amber light casting him in a warm glow.

“Your couch is tiny; for a second there I thought I had fallen into Gulliver’s Travels,” he says by way of explanation.

She has the thought that it had sat her and Angel just fine, but she doesn’t tell him that. She shifts to get more comfortable and winces at her sore ribs.

“He get you pretty good?” Mulder asks, crawling up to lie on his side next to her.

Scully would tell him, but Desi would show him. Pulling her robe open beneath her breasts, she exposes the developing bruise on her belly, just below and to the left of her sternum. Mulder sucks in a little breath that she assumes is in response to how bad it looks, but when she looks at his face his eyes are trained much lower, maybe on her scar. It seems as though he’ll never be able to stop blaming himself for that.

“No broken ribs or any internal injury, thankfully,” she says, watching him look at her. “I rolled away right as he kicked me, so it wasn’t as much impact as he was shooting for.”

“How long have you had that?” he asks, and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Um...a few hours?” she offers.

“No, this,” he replies, reaching out and touching her belly ring with an index finger. She blushes.

“Um, a couple years or so. I got it after my cancer went into remission.”

“Why?” he asks, all curiosity, no judgement. He’s still fingering the ring gently and she stifles a shiver.

“I guess...I guess I wanted to decide what happened to my body for once,” she answers, and he looks at her face with some mix of pain and admiration.

“This assignment,” he says with a regretful voice, “it took that away from you again.” His hand has come to rest on her belly, his palm covering the gold hoop.

She shakes her head gently. “In some ways yes, but in other ways it was actually...kind of empowering.”

They look at each other for a beat.

“How many times did you come to see me, Mulder?”

He averts his eyes sheepishly. “Too many,” he says. “I’m sorry.” It’s clear that he counts himself among those who violated her autonomy.

“Why?” she inquires further. “Why did you come?” Her tone is all curiosity, no judgement.

He meets her eye again. “Do you want to hear the lie I told myself, or the truth?” he asks, and she knows he’ll be honest if she asks him to.

“Tell me the lie first.”

“I knew you didn’t have your weapon, because I went to your apartment and checked your gun safe. So I needed to be there to protect you, in case something happened.” He says it flatly. He’s not even trying to convince himself of that anymore.

“And what’s the truth?” She knows her voice is on the verge of trembling.

His thumb is now gently stroking the flesh of her belly, his fingers mere inches from the hem of her panties. Now seems like a good time for honesty.

“At first, I just needed to know where you were. I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing. And then once I found you, I just…” he stops and swallows, letting his eyes drift down, skirting over her chest to where his hand lies.

“What?” she encourages him, needing to know. Needing to hear it.

He turns his head abruptly, facing her again. “You looked so fucking good up there, Scully.” His pupils are huge and his breathing is quickening.

She smiles demurely. “Yeah?”

He huffs a big breath. “Yeah.”

She screws up her mouth, embarrassed by the compliment. “Thanks,” she finally says, and then they are quiet.

His hand still rests on her stomach, and he looks around the room, rather than stare at her awkwardly. She can hear the clock ticking in the living room and a horn honking somewhere nearby. This is the point where she will say how late it is, how tired she is, how early they will have to be up in the morning to continue the investigation. This is the point where she pulls open the escape catch and slips through.

What would Desi do?

She reaches up to his face, slipping her cool palms onto his stubbled cheeks. He turns to look at her, and she blinks slowly, letting her lips fall open slightly. She remembers the VIP room, and how desperate he’d been to touch her.

You deserve to enjoy your body, Angel had told her. She wants it to be true.

She pulls gently, bringing him to her. He closes the distance between them slowly, pressing his lips to hers. This is not a searing kiss, not frantic or desperate or unbridled. This is her and this is Mulder, and this is real. His kiss is tender and sweet, and he sighs deeply against her mouth with a little hum. Relief, release, finally finally finally.

She slides her tongue along his bottom lip and his body jerks a little in response, electrified and activated. A swell of confidence courses through her. Bringing one hand down from his face, she pushes the top of her robe open to reveal her bare chest, her nipples already tight with anticipation. His hand snakes up her ribcage, fluttering over the bruise and coming to rest at the spot where her underwire lies each day they work together in the office. Where sweat collects when the air conditioning in their rental car is out. Where her body becomes Her Body, and they are crossing this boundary together. Even though they already crossed it, obliterated it, when he took her into that VIP room. This feels more significant. This is real. This is them.

He trails kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck, slow and delicious. His tongue dances across her clavicle and his lips brush the skin of her chest. When he takes her nipple in his mouth, she feels it so deeply, in a place she’d forgotten existed. A place that she’d so rarely let herself go. The rough of his tongue drags across the sensitive bud and she arches into him, letting her head fall back and her eyes close.

You deserve to enjoy your body.

His mouth is back on her neck and he kisses his way up to her ear. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers huskily, and she feels a surge of arousal dampening her panties.

He gently covers her bruise with his hand, kissing her lips whisper soft, so soft it makes her ache. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and at first she thinks he means emotionally.

“You won’t, Mulder.” It would have been the same answer either way.

She laps at his mouth and he reciprocates, deepening the kiss. As with all things, he’s exploratory; tasting each corner of her mouth, changing speed and pressure, discovering what she likes. Their slow, liquid kisses are the type she hasn’t experienced since she was a teenager and kissing was all that was permissible. She’d forgotten how erotic kissing could be. But she definitely wants to do more than just kiss.

“You can touch me,” she says. Even though he already is, already has. It’s as close to a request as she can manage.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he returns, and she remembers the way his hands had flexed and his body arched, seeking contact with her.

“Yes,” she breathes, “please.”

A low moan rumbles in his chest and his hand leaves her bruise, brushing over the skin of her belly as he continues to kiss her, the featherlight touch tickling her and making her jump.

“Sorry,” he says, and she can feel his smile against her mouth.

He plays at the hem of her panties, tracing the border across her stomach, the edge at her leg until it disappears under her ass. He follows it the other direction up and over the front of her leg until it takes him between her thighs. She moves one leg aside, resting it against him, and he continues to trace the trail along the seam of her thigh and vulva, so close she’s sure he can feel the heat coming off her. Maybe even feel how wet she is. He lifts his finger and places it low, on top of her panties near her opening, and drags it up over her cotton-covered slit. When he bumps up over her clit, she makes a little sound. He does it again.

“Can I…” he grumbles into her ear, “...I want to taste you. Please.”

A throb. Whatever she had previously thought to be the sexiest sound in the world is obsolete. Fox Mulder begging to eat her pussy is it, hands down, no debate. She wants to hear him say it again.

“You want to?” she asks rhetorically, baiting him. Her breath is ragged. If she somehow talks him out of this by accident she will die.

“So bad,” he drags his teeth over her earlobe. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasized about it.”

A throb. She might come just from talking about it. “Okay,” she says, as though acquiescing.

He moves to hover over her, kissing her several more times as though he can hardly tear himself away from one area to kiss another. If only he had a second set of lips to kiss her with. He makes brief stops at her breasts and belly along his journey, sucking the gold hoop between his lips, which produces an oddly pleasurable sensation. When he’s on his knees between her thighs, he hooks his fingers into the fabric at her hips and tugs, peeling them slowly down her legs. She lifts one leg and crosses it over his body so that he can pull her panties free and toss them on the floor. When that last scrap of fabric is gone, he gently pulls her leg back over and his eyes come to rest on the one part of her body he has not yet seen. She watches him intently, the mesmerized look in his eye as he commits her pink, swollen vulva to memory. He’s looking between her legs as though the answers he’s always been searching for are right here, and he can’t believe he’s only finding them now. He licks his lips.

When he lowers his body, laying on his belly and placing his palms on the outsides of her thighs, she feels the anticipation throbbing so hard she wonders if he can actually see how much she wants him. He dips his head and she is trembling, desperate, now now now.

The sweet slip of his tongue through her folds simultaneously ignites and extinguishes her. Release on top of heightened desire. Scratching the itch while tickling forth a new one. He is tentative, trying different levels of pressure and length of strokes, licking her long from bow to stern then short just across her clit. Every single point of contact is an entire fireworks show in a millisecond, one on top of the other, and she doesn’t even realize at first that she is crying out. Moaning and panting, making so much more noise than she ever would have permitted herself to make in the past. He slips a finger inside and she feels the beginnings of an orgasm begin to take shape. He laps her in short strokes, flicking up and over her clit over and over, and every synapse in her brain is firing. He slips a second finger in and she’s there, right on the edge, ready to fall over.

“I’m gonna come,” she whines, and he groans, keeping pace and pressure, not changing a single thing.

It’s slow, so slow the way it overtakes her. Her toes curl as it creeps up her legs, wrapping around her hips and pulling her under. She reaches the crest and hangs there, clamped tight around him at the peak of pleasure for so deliciously long. Then the waves hit her, pulsing and pushing and expanding and contracting, and he keeps going. It’s so good, so fucking good that she thinks she might cry, or maybe she already is, she doesn’t know. She’s still going, still pulsing around his fingers, but now that the most intense point has passed she wants him close, she wants more.

“Mulder,” she says with a thick, dry-mouthed voice, “come here.”

He crawls up over her body, still fully clothed, and she pushes his shirt up quickly, tossing it aside before her hands go to the fly of his jeans. She can see a question pass over his eyes, a worry that it’s too much too fast. Not for him, but for her.

“I want you,” she assures him, and he helps her push his jeans and boxers off, discarding her robe when he briefly stands. Then they are both fully nude, his stiff cock nestled between her thighs.

“Please,” she begs, because she means NOW she wants him now, right now, while she’s still riding the coattails of her orgasm.

He grips his cock and slides it over her, collecting her wetness, and then slowly pushes inside. He’s perfect, big enough but not too big for her petite frame, and she hooks her legs around his buttocks, pulling him deeper.

“Fuck,” he moans, but takes the cue and begins long, firm strokes.

The new sensation of the head of his cock sliding against her insides sets off another series of little waves of pleasure and she’s not sure if she’s still coming or coming again, but it’s so damn good she doesn’t care.

“You feel so good,” she moans against his neck, and he can feel him stiffen and grow even harder in response.

“Oh my god, Scully, oh my god.” He can’t find more eloquent words than that, but she doesn’t need them. She knows.

He kisses her while he slides in and out, groaning and growing more frantic. He’s close.

“Fuck, should I...pull out or something?” he asks breathlessly, a bit late in the game but she can appreciate that he thought of it at all. She remembers the box of condoms in the bathroom, but this is Mulder. She knows he hasn’t been with anyone else, and she can’t get pregnant anyway.

“Come inside me,” she commands, and that does it. His eyes clamp shut and his breath catches. He continues thrusting into her in stony silence, a living statue until he falls apart.

Words tumble from his lips as he pours himself inside her, a stream of consciousness he isn’t even aware of while dopamine is flooding every cell of his body. “Oh my fucking god, Scully, oh my fucking god, I love you so much.” She watches his face raptly, marveling at the blissful way his eyebrows stitch and his mouth hangs as he lets go, lets himself feel good for once. He collapses, falling to the side and taking her with him so he can remain inside her, nuzzling her neck as he rides out the final dredges of pleasure.

She traces her fingers over the sweat-dampened skin of his back, feeling whatever the opposite of regret would be. She’s never been so sure that a decision she’s made was the right one as she is now. He sighs deeply and then tips his head up to look at her, a sated smile on his lips that she returns.

“Hi,” she says in her very own voice, and he gives her a squeeze at the familiar greeting.

“Hey,” he replies, and her heart swells with affection that she cannot rightfully ignore.

“I love you too,” she says, and a flash of surprise disappears from his expression as quickly as it arrived. Maybe he doesn’t realize he said it, but he knows he feels it.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna kick me out?” he asks, and she can’t be mad that he’s ruining the moment with humor. He wouldn’t be Mulder if he didn’t.

“Stay,” she replies, and reaches up to switch off the lamp. They fall asleep just like that, his sticky cum on the insides of her thighs something she’s not ready to let go of just yet.

[maddogofshimano]

Bound in the Chains of Suspicion: Haruka and Hamazaki Board Game Event

Major Y3 and Y4 Spoilers

I was surprised to see these two on an event together! Haruka even gets to be the protagonist here

I was more surprised by how emotionally compromised I got about Hamazaki of all people. I mean, I’ve thought he was a cool character ever since Y4, but man! This is the most important part though: LOOK AT HER

I’ve been busy so self-care was writing things up in more of a summary form than doing line for line translations this time. Apologies for the likely higher number of errors than usual and less polish overall, I got this done with only a few hours to spare before the event ended

I do need to put a big honking Content Warning on this one for attempted sexual assault of a minor, in which a grown man twice demands to see Haruka’s panties and attempts to grab her when she refuses. I’m really not a fan of the writing choice to include this, but I’ve got it in here for completeness’s sake

Summary: Set during the time between Kiryu and Yasuko leaving Hamazaki in Okinawa and Haruka’s call to Kiryu the next day to tell Kiryu that Hamazaki had passed away in the hospital. Haruka grapples with whether or not Hamazaki is a bad person and if he’s trustworthy while attempting to save his life

<After the incident where Hamazaki drifted to Morning Glory from Okinawa Penitentiary No. 2.....> We're starting off with in-game events/dialogue, Hamazaki handing over the blackmail he took from jail and asking for Kiryu's help

Immediate flashback to earlier 3/9/2010, more in game events. The kids have just gotten back from a field trip to the woods. They had fun, and want Kiryu to come along next time. Kiryu tries to introduce Hamazaki, Haruka is not having any of it

She tells Kiryu to shut up and Hamazaki to stay the hell away from everyone. Hamazaki is hurt by this, but fully understands and agrees to keep his distance

Next we have the beach conversation with Kiryu where she asks if he’s going back to Tokyo and that she’s scared

Haruka's usually very polite but she keeps calling Hamazaki あの浜崎って人 which is like, "that Hamazaki guy" lol

Haruka's been told by Ayako that "that Hamazaki guy" has left with Kiryu to go to the police station. She's wondering why that guy is now trying to convince Kiryu not to go to Tokyo....... isn't there going to be a big problem if Kiryu doesn't go? Did Hamazaki tell Kiryu not to go..... for Haruka's sake? There's no way, right? A bad person like him wouldn't do something like that..... She can't trust him,  but..... <Haruka flashes back to her yelling at Hamazaki and Hamazaki looking sad> She feels she might have been cruel to him

She thinks that Hamzaki just looked so so sad, so she tells Ayako she's going to head out for a bit and asks her to watch over things while she's gone. She thinks that she still can't trust Hamazaki but that maybe, it's possible he really has changed, and he's not such a bad guy anymore... but she can't be sure! So she's going to talk to him a little more

<Haruka was unable to believe that Hamazaki had changed when she first saw him, and said something cruel. She's still unsure on his change, and in order to discern it for herself has decided to talk to Hamazaki directly--following Hamazaki and Kiryu to the police station>

She shows the cop an photo of Kiryu and asks if he's come this way, as well as a big man with a shaved head and a scary face named Hamazaki. The officer says that they did, but went to help a lady look for her brother instead. He points Haruka in the direction they ran off in. She thanks him and wonders who this woman is, and remembers that Kiryu has a phone so she can just call him. Except she forgot her phone at morning glory...... thankfully there's a pay phone nearby, so she uses that instead. Kiryu isn't picking up though, which is worrying. She's sure Hamazaki must have done something!

She runs around the market with her picture of Kiryu asking people if they've seen him. A store owner says that yeah, he's seen that guy with the scary face, he was here not too long ago, and points her in the right direction. She follows the trail, talking to a homeless man, a younger guy, a tourist lady, and finally hitting a dead end and talking to a goon who says yeah, he's seen those three, but his memory's real fuzzy. Maybe he could remember if Haruka would show him her panties. Haruka is taken aback, he tries to grab her, and Haruka fights him off enough to escape. She hides nearby, and happens across someone bleeding on the ground. It's Hamazaki!

Hamazaki is bleeding badly, and collapses. Haruka thinks that she needs to call an ambulance, and fast, but she hears someone shouting in search of Hamazaki. She knows that if they come this way they'll be out in the open, so she starts dragging him despite him being heavy

the voice was of course coming from everyone's fave, Saito the Prison Warden

He knows that Hamazaki got shot in the torso, so he couldn't have gone far. Haruka wonders why Saito would try to kill Hamazaki. Unfortunately Saito decides that his subordinates are useless and that if he wants anything done he'll have to do it himself

He tells a homeless man that if they spot Hamazaki, Yasuko, and Kiryu he'll give them 100,000 yen, and the offer stands for any other homeless friends that help search. Haruka knows that she needs to get Hamazaki somewhere safe that they can hide, and fast. She thinks about it and remembers that right at the end of this alley there's an empty room that's never used that Taichi told her about. She manages to sneak herself and Hamazaki to the building without being spotted by the patrolling homeless men--but once in the building she finds that there's a homeless man inside. He tries to tell her to go play somewhere else but notices that she's dragging Hamazaki behind her, and starts shouting in hopes of getting the 100k. HARUKA ATTACKS THIS MAN. HARUKA OVERPOWERS THIS MAN. THIS MAN IS STRUGGLING TO GET AWAY AND HARUKA IS TELLING HIM HE CAN'T TELL ANYONE CAUSE THE PEOPLE LOOKING FOR HAMAZAKI NO OJISAN WILL KILL HIM

The man comments that Haruka's hands are shaking. He says he's been there too. When he worked as a day laborer, his hands would shake like that when he was desperately trying to haul heavy things. For the sake of helping an adult she's pushing her tiny body to it's limits... He agrees not to tell anyone, he's not going to be happy with any amount of money at the cost of someone's life. If any other homeless people come by, he's going to spread rumors that Hamazaki is far away from here, so that should help with Haruka's escape Haruka thinks again about calling an ambulance, worried that Hamazaki will bleed out, but still worried that they'll be found before it gets there. She also worries about why she hasn't seen Kiryu, and why Hamazaki was all alone at that building. The guy that shot Hamazaki seems like a cop and a bad person, but she had also thought Hamazaki was a bad person before... He did shoot Hamazaki, but Hamazaki also stabbed Kiryu...

Haruka wonders if maybe telling the cops where Hamazaki is would be the right thing to do. Maybe he's the real bad guy here. In response Hamazaki makes an eloquent argument compared to every previous line which had just been "Ughh gh ughh" and instead goes for "cough cough....!"

He's conscious enough to recognize Haruka as that kid who was at Kiryu's place. Haruka asks if Hamazaki is alright, and where is Kiryu? Is he okay? Hamazaki wheezes out that Kiryu's gone to a bad place, which is about the most ominous way to say things. Haruka panics internally, but unlike many other instances of miscommunication where Hamazaki would pass out right there, he says that Kiryu went with Saejima's sister to Tokyo. Haruka can't believe it. Hamazaki apologizes that he ended up separating Haruka from Kiryu after all.

Hamazaki also says that, despite everything, Kiryu's doing this to keep Haruka safe. Haruka wonders about that and Hamazaki collapses again. Haruka rushes off and calls an ambulance from the closest pay phone. She thinks that, if she trusts what Hamazaki is saying, then Kiryu has something important to do again. But is that really the case? She decides it'll be alright to trust Hamazaki. Before she makes it to the pay phone she's stopped by Saito introduces himself as a prison warden and says he's looking for a very bad man. He's large and has a shaved head, and was seen with a woman in a long coat and a man in a Hawaiian shirt. Haruka says she hasn't seen anyone, and rushes to the phone to call. Saito doesn't seem too convinced. Haruka makes the call and thinks that Saito had a real scary look in his eyes. She's pretty sure he's the bad one here. Once that guy gives up looking, then she can go home

Unfortunately we have the return of the disgusting creep that wants to look at her panties, now telling her that he looked all over for her, and she better not think about trying to run away this time. Haruka tells him to stay back

He says that it's fine if she hates him. In fact, that's even more enticing. She says to let her through, she's in a rush. He says he just wants to see her panties already, and tries to grab her. Another fight, she manages to avoid getting grabbed but he keeps her cornered and says she should stop fighting. He's cut off by a baton to the back of the head by the unlikeliest of heroes, dropping the creep

Haruka now has to consider, is it possible that Saito isn't actually a bad guy? Haruka leaves, and Saito comments to himself that he's going to find Hamazaki.

Haruka rushes back to Hamazaki, who is still lying on the floor going Ughhghghhhhh. She tells him to hold on a little longer, and ambulance is on the way. Hamazaki apologizes, and asks if she's alright. Haruka's confused. Hamazaki says that she scraped her knee on something, didn't she? It was from dragging him, right? She says no, she just fell and scraped it. Haruka's taken aback, even on the verge of death he's concerned about someone else--he really has changed. But... this could all be an act, she has no way to know... should she really be trusting him? There's a voice outside saying that this is where he's hiding. Search everywhere. both: !?

There's no time to hide, Saito is already here. Apparently it's been about 2 hours.

He followed Haruka, knowing she'd lead him right to Hamazaki. He saw the blood on her clothes and had a hunch. Once they talked at that pay phone he was certain she was hiding a half-dead Hamazaki somewhere. Haruka tries to protest but Saito thanks her for her help. It's a good way to thank him for saving her from that creep, right? Either way he only stepped in because he wanted her to lead him to Hamazaki as quickly as possible. Saito decides they've had enough chit-chat and says it's time to cut to the chase: he starts beating on Hamazaki and demanding to know where Kiryu Kazuma and Saejima's sister are

Hamazaki tells Haruka to run. He says that once they realize they can't beat the whereabouts of Kiryu and Saejima Yasuko out of him... they'll start torturing Haruka. He's going to use the last of his strength to stand and knock this guy to the ground, that'll be Haruka's opening to escape. Saito tells them to cut it with the whispering. Hamazaki says that Saito has a real hideous mug, it really makes him laugh, and earns himself another beating. Haruka calls out but Hamazaki cuts her off and says that it's okay to be scared. Hamazaki's dealt with plenty of guys like this. Saito threatens to kill him if he doesn't spit out where Kiryu is already. Hamazaki laughs and says he doesn't know. Saito asks if he needs his memory jogged, pauses, and sees Haruka standing in front of Hamazaki. He asks what she's trying to do. She says this is terrible! She can't let this go any further!!

Saito doesn't care if she's just a kid, he's happy to give her an attitude adjustment. Hamazaki launches himself at Saito to prevent him from beating Haruka, saying that he won't allow Saito to lay a single finger on this child. Saito attacks Hamazaki with intent to kill. Hamazaki can't move anymore after the fight, and Saito keeps hitting until he goes down. Saito declares that he would never die in a place like this, he's the one who's coming out on top. He reels back to strike Hamazaki, shouting for him to die, and........ HARUKA GRABS HIM AND STOPS HIM FROM HITTING HAMAZAKI! He calls her a bitch and tells her to let go of him!

Haruka: I won't let go....! Not ever.....! Hamazaki-san! Run!

Saito: Let go of me you biiiiiiiiiiiiitch! Saito turns to swing at Haruka but is taken down by one giant punch from Hamazaki, who tells him not to get back up. The ambulance finally arrives. Haruka begs him to hold on just a little longer. Hamazaki agrees, and laughs a little. He stopped Saito from laying a finger on her after all. He's glad he was able to protect her. There's on favor he needs to ask of her. Hamazaki: Tell Kiryu...... and Saejima that......... the Tojo Clan... is the only proof they ever walked this earth...... They have to... protect it....... from the police

He then collapses. Haruka begs him to hold on

<screen fades to black>

The doctor tells Haruka that Hamazaki is in bad shape... he might not even make it to the morning.

Haruka thinks back to her yelling at Hamazaki at the orphanage Haruka: I'm sorry, Hamazaki-san..... I... I was cruel to you then... and now I can't even apologize to you for it. I'm sorry....... I'm sorry...... Hamazaki: ......What's.... wrong....... Haruka-..... chan........ Haruka: !? Doctor: Incredible.... he's awake! Haruka: H-Hamazaki-san.... I'm sorry! I... back then when I.... I'm can't apologize enough....... Haruka: Back at Morning Glory.... I didn't trust you.... I said some cruel things that hurt you.... I'm sorry! Haruka: I was certain you were a horrible person back then.... but now.... I don't think that's true.... Haruka: For protecting Uncle Kaz.... for protecting me.... thank you, Hamazaki-san! Hamazaki: Heheh.... thanks, huh? Hamazaki: ......First time.... anyone's ever said that kind of thing.... sincerely to me...... Haruka: Hamazaki-san...... Hamazaki: Heheh.... it's fine........ Since we're.... giving thanks to people..... Hamazaki: Thank you... Haruka-chan.... Right at the very end...... you saved me <Hamazaki collapses> Haruka: .....! H-Hamazaki-saaaaaan!!! <at New Serena, Kiryu gets a phone call> Kiryu: ....Haruka. What's wrong, did something happen?

Haruka: Uncle Kaz... Hamazaki-san..... he just passed away. At the hospital.

Straight from the in-game dialogue, Haruka tells Kiryu that Hamazaki had been shot in the back, leading to his death. He thanks Haruka for being there for him, she says it was no trouble, and that she thinks he died protecting Kiryu. Kiryu agrees. Haruka says she thinks she was wrong about Hamazaki, and passes along his message for Kiryu and Saejima, and lets Kiryu know that his body is currently at Morning Glory. Kiryu says they'll hold a memorial service once he's back <phone call ends> Haruka: .....Uncle Kaz. The Tojo Clan that Hamazaki-san protected... he's left it's protection to you. <END>

Bonus stuff:

as we all know, Haruka has not had enough people literally die in front of her eyes, so time to add Hamazaki to that list!

okay so immediately after Hamazaki wakes up in the hospital there’s this screen which made me break down into nearly crying laughter in the middle of the emotional moment, so I used my editorial authority to move it down here instead

the doctor’s face! why did they do this!!

Anyways here’s all of Haruka’s little blurbs from going around the board

Beach There's a beach in front of Morning Glory. We keep coming back to here to look at the ocean. It's an indispensable spot for all of us.

Morning Glory Our beloved home. When I first came here, I thought it was super spacious, but lately it feels cramped. It must be because everyone has grown up.

Hamazaki-san The guy who stabbed uncle Kaz.... But now, Hamazaki-san gives off a totally different vibe than back then. Is it really okay to trust him....?

Ebisu Pawn The Ryukyu branch of Ebisu. Uncle Kaz goes there every now and then. I have no idea what he's pawning off but... I'd like to help.

People Running Shakedowns Even in Okinawa there are people that will do shakedowns.... I need to tell everyone to keep an eye out before anything happens....!

Ojisan The caretaker of Morning Glory. Honestly, everyone truly thinks of him like their dad. If you tell him something like that however, he will get embarrassed.

Everyone at Morning Glory Everyone here has no parents, but each of them has a bright future ahead of them if they keep working hard. We've all become a real family for each other.

Sailor Outfit For my middle school I have to wear this sailor outfit. At first I would get embarrassed when everyone looked at me.

Mame A resident (pet?) of Morning Glory. Mame is getting bigger, and it's making his daily walks and pacing beforehand a real pain! (TL note: the resident (pet?) is Haruka swapping the counter between for a person and for an animal, which does not really have an english translation lol)

Dragon Mask When Taichi was sick, this was used for a pro wrestling match on the beach. I haven't seen it since then. If I ask nicely, I wonder if it could be used again?

That’s all! Thank you for reading all of this!! I cherish every single tag people leave on these posts when they reblog them

[miraculous-anna]

Opposite Day (Or DuPont's Worst Nightmare) Part 3: Ladybug is that HBIC

Hi everyone!!! So, here's the next chapter of ODDWN! And from what you can tell of the title, yes, this is where Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat the Akuma, or essentially, the last main chapter. I'm gonna be doing an aftermath obviously, but right now we're gonna focus on Ladybug telling Chat Noir off. Cause let's be real, Adrien doesn't know what "no" means, and Marinette is way too nice to actually tell him off. THANKFULLY, she doesn't have a filter, so this kitty's getting skinned.

Enjoy! :)

(To get a feel for this chapter, listen to either rules by doja cat, or confident by Justin Bieber and chance the rapper. Your choice lol)

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇

First / Previous Chapter / Masterlist

Walking out of the classroom, Marinette turned to walk down the stairs. "Dupain-Cheng." Marinette stopped in her tracks, and turned around towards Chloe. "What, brat?" Marinette glared. She was hungry, and getting stopped was annoying her.

Chloe huffed at the insult. Turning her head, "I was, gonna say you could hang out with me and Sabrina now that you have a spine, but for that insult I'm reconsidering."

Marinette laughed, clearly mocking the other girl. "No thanks, I don't hang out with entitled brats like you. I mean, seriously? You?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Marinette was about to walk away when Chloe growled. "Excuse you?! I am Chloe Bourgeois! I have everything, like you would ever understand!"

"Oh Chloe, we both know you're lying. Even to yourself." Marinette looked over her shoulder, before turning slightly. "What does that mean?" Chloe placed her hands on her hips. "You don't have everything you could ever want, isn't that right?" Marinette smiled in mock sympathy. "Of course I do! I'm the mayor's daughter!" Chloe hesitated, not knowing what Marinette was getting at.

"Yes, you are the mayor's daughter, yes you're rich, but none of those things can give you what you truly want," Marinette shook her head, walking in a slow circle around the blonde. "Your mom left you," Chloe flinched at that remark. Marinette continued, "Your dad isn't there for you," Another flinch, Chloe curled her fists. "You only have one friend, and everyone hates you." Marinette stopped walking, she stood behind her. Grasping her shoulders, Marinette spoke in Chloe's ears. "Poor, poor Chloe. You're alone, and no one truly understands you. But who's fault is that? Who's fault is it that everyone cowers before you?"

Chloe looked to be on the verge of tears, not that Marinette could see. "You want friends, and you want people to care about you, right? No one's ever paid attention to you, and no one cared enough." Marinette sighed, taking on a sympathetic voice. "What are you getting at, Dupain-Cheng?" Chloe whispered, knowing if she spoke louder her voice would crack. "You don't have to be alone, Chloe. You don't have to have people be scared of you. You brought this upon yourself by being a horrible person. But," Marinette let go of Chloe's shoulders. Walking towards the stairs, she turned to look back at the other girl. "Even you can be redeemed. You just have to try."

With that, Marinette left an emotional Chloe at the top of the staircase. "Stupid Dupain-Cheng, what does she know?" Chloe whispered, rubbing at her eyes furiously.

♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○

Running into the bathroom, Marinette locked the door to her stall, and opened her purse. "Marinette! Let's hurry! We've waited too long, who knows what the akuma has done!" Tikki cries in a whisper, flying out of the purse. "I know, Tikki, don't lecture me." Marinette grumbles, calling her transformation.

Now on the roof of her school, Marinette listens intently for the sound of an akuma. Lo and behold, a few blocks down came the screams. "Guess he circled around the city." Marinette murmured, swinging onto the building across the street. There, in the street down below stood the akuma Opposite Man. He had a staff he used to zap people, and had what looked like smoke bombs to affect groups of people.

From what she could tell, Marinette deduced that the staff made you do the opposite of what you're trying to do, and the smoke bomb affects your personality. That's why I felt weird today, and the purple smoke in the air. Marinette thought, suddenly realizing.

She analyzed the scene below, trying to find a way to restrain him, and get his akumatized object. She heard a thump from behind her and internally cursed. She didn't need his recklessness this time. Ladybug had a job to do.

"Hello, M'lady! I've missed you, my bugaboo!" Chat Noir purred, leaning on his staff. Ladybug stood up, and slowly turned to face him, while saying sarcastically, "Oh wow, M'lady and Bugaboo? Using both names which you know I hate? You must be here to be a nuisance --as usual" Ladybug crossed her arms, titling her head with a mock surprised face, before dropping it and glaring at him.

"Me-ouch, M'lady! No need to be so harsh! I'm just here to be your savior! After all, it is what good boyfriends do!" Chat Noir exclaimed, reaching to touch her. Marinette didn't know what he wanted to touch, but it frightened her nonetheless. Normally, she would flinch back, and try to put distance, but the akuma’s powers, no, they didn't let her.

Grabbing his wrist before he can touch her, Ladybug sneered. "Don't fucking touch me, you mangy cat!" Chat Noir tried to pull his hand back, but Ladybug wasn't done. "You know what you are, Chat Noir?" A step forward. Ladybug had the hand with the ring on it, not that Chat noticed. No, he was too shocked his lady was talking back to him. Where was this confidence? She never fought back!

No, no, you can't let your victim fight you! Chat had to fix this! His thoughts were broken when Ladybug spoke again. "You're nothing, but a nuisance, a menace, a reckless little brat, and--" Insult after Insult. Each insult equaled a step closer, till she backed him up against the edge of the roof.

"M'lady! Now, don't get so riled up! You're only acting this way cause you got hit! We can defeat the Akuma and go back to normal!--" Chat Noir rambled, desperately trying not to fall off the tall building they were on. It was three stories, and if he fell, his staff couldn't save him, it was knocked away from him, but Ladybug cut him off. "You mean the akuma I'm going to defeat, you're useless, you can't do anything to help me. In fact, I don't need you at all!" Ladybug shouted, her grip on his wrist getting tighter. Harder for him to break out of, she mused in her head.

"Don't lie, Ladybug! We're meant for each other! You're the only one that doesn't see it. Come on! Let go so we can get you back to normal." Chat Noir rolled his eyes, smiling his signature Adrien Sunshine Boy smile. This would convince her, surely-- Ladybug's expression only darkened. "Right, cause when I'm back to normal, I don't fight you. I'm a doormat when I'm normal, gives you more opportunities to harass and get away with the shit you do. And we're not "meant" for each other, you asshat. You're a horrible person, and I hate you!" Ladybug was screaming by now. She grabbed his fingers, ready to slip off the ring. He looked to shocked at her declaration to notice at first.

"Chat Noir, by order of the Guardian of the Miraculous, You are hereby revoked of your miraculous, and you'll face the full consequences of your actions." He looked enraged at her order, and tried to break free. "Catacly--" He tried to shout, but she laughed. "I'll just tie you up and take it after you transform back forcefully. Like I said, you're fucking stupid." Still laughing, she smirked as he did it anyway.

She let go of him, and before he could run away, tied him up with her yoyo. Quickly attaching him to a pole on the roof, Ladybug rolled her eyes. "I told you, you stupid cat."

Sighing, she waited till she heard the beeping start. Leaning against the opposite wall, Ladybug watched with unnatural satisfaction as Chat Noir yelled, screamed, and demanded she put him down. She couldn't do this to him, he'd cry over and over. To the Ladybug of yesterday, his cries would be answered, and she'd let him down. Apologize and turn around, waiting for him to recharge.

To the Ladybug of now, however, it was hilarious. Hearing him yelling and screeching. He was terrified of the consequences, apparently. Then came the final beep, and then came her devilish grin.

The look of terror on his face caused her to laugh. Before he detransformed, Marinette said one last thing. "Bye bye, little kitty. I hope you rot in hell," releasing him as his transformation fell, Ladybug grabbed Chats, no, Adrien's wrist-- she was too happy, and too satisfied to break down from the new hole in her heart-- and yanked the ring off his finger.

Ladybug didn't look back as she took off towards the akuma that had made it's way down a few blocks. No, not even to acknowledge the screaming pleas of Adrien Agreste.

•♧•♧•♧•♧•♧•♧•♧•♧

Hey there! So, I finished the Final Main Part of ODDWN! Hope you guys liked it, it was a bit rushed at the end, I wanted to get this written by Sunday. Now, by the time you've read this, its Monday (Today). I'll get to writing the aftermath chapter for this story tonight, and it'll be up sometime around this week or the next, depending on how long I want it to be, or what I want to happen. If you have any questions, requests, or prompt recommendations please feel free to send me an ask!!

I hope you guys enjoyed!! Taglist below!

@charming-mage

@agent-numbuh-227

@whatsupwithjinx

@andromeda612

@miraculesbians

@fandom-trapped-03

@spicybelladonna

@unknown-nr-9

@emmathedestroyer

@thestressmademedoit

@zephyranemone

@kris-pines04

@bluerosette23

@rowanrouge

@heyitsbugette

@cornholio4

@aestheticnpoetic

@miraclousgay

@lavenderjunes

@raisuke06

@starpony999

@flufflepuffle296

@adalouise1987

@loysydark

@clumsy-owl-4178

@iz-bell-saiah

@its-salty-bug

@para-dox-normal

@bee-wrecker

@gingerdaile

@myazael

@username8746489

@storylover04

@jeminiikrystal

@mewwitch

@96tsubasa

@thornalchemist23

@cauldronbornkid

@agentofscifi

@irontimetravelflower

@sandraf0612

@colorfulsiren

@amayakans

@jiso-lee

@cupcakeandkisses

@i-wanna-be-a-ninja

@vixen-uchiha

@multplelifes

@mochegato

@ur-average-reader

@celestethegoddess

@girl-scream

@casual-darkness

@mysticarcticfox

@salty-fang

@iamablinkmarvelarmy

@novaloptr

@whiterosequeen23

@thezestywalru

@monsterblankie

@komaedasnatched

@alce-the-gem-girl

@barblovesgames

@wannajointhecrabcult

@lorveyna

@mercury-mocha

@peterxwade24

@starlightshield

@readeracctagmepls

@nekoalpha

@artzychic27

@heaven428

@tat0909

@kanamexzeroyaoifangirl

@spiritofchaoticdreams

@littlespazzticmonster

@justafanwarrior

@crazylittlemunchkin

@deepestobservationwombat

@trippingovermyfeet

@sassakitty

@multifandomnerd101

[bellemareyouserious]

Panic Room

warnings: tom wilson x f reader, mention of alcohol, mention of toxic relationship, swearing, SMUT

word count: 3,682

authors note: WOW y’all its been a hot minute since i wrote anything!!! i was inspired to write for @hockeynetwork​‘s fic exchange, this story is for you @ihaveamillionfandoms​ !! i really hope you enjoy it! (special shoutouts to @tkuhnhackl​ for helping me edit and to @coffee77cat​ for sending me so much hot Tom for inspo)

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

Panic. 

You're 3 shots and a couple of drinks deep when you spot your ex boyfriend through the crowd. You could've sworn it was a drunken hallucination but the second glance tells you it's a nightmare come to life. The fear sets in quickly when you shoot a side eye to your best friend at the exact same time she spots him. She's in the middle of the dance floor with some random guy attached to her back so she can't do much to help you besides motioning for you to get some air. 

The drink in your hands is funneled down your throat before you're speed walking to the bathroom on the verge of a panic attack, praying your ex didn't see you. The breakup was nasty and only happened a couple of weeks ago, though it felt like years since you've seen him. The relationship should've ended months before. You kept making excuses for him and blaming it on yourself. Looking back on it, the toxicity was all him and you finally figured out you deserve better than that. So you left. 

He didn't take it so well. Called you every name in the book, tried to turn your friends against you, even tried to convince your parents to talk to you for him. You knew you made the right decision when he trashed your car before your 12 hour shift. Even though it was finally over, the emotional trauma left behind wasn't so easily forgotten, which is why even seeing him sent you into fight or flight mode. 

The path to the bathroom is crowded and dark. You definitely have a slight buzz that isn't helping either. You finally spot the small sign and practically run around the corner to get there when you run face first into a broad chest and nearly fall backwards, but two strong hands catch you before you hit the ground. 

"Oh my god I'm so sorry are you okay? I didn't even see you comi- hey is that you y/n?"

Before you get a chance to be embarrassed about the situation you quickly recognize the large man in front of you as Tom Wilson from the Washington Capitals. Or just Tom to you. 

"H-hey Tom, it's okay I ran into you. Thanks for uh, catching me," you stutter out, still in panic mode from seeing your ex. You see the confusion on his face as soon as you feel your hands shaking on top of his arms. You've known Tom for a couple of years now through your job. You started as a nursing student intern at Medstar and eventually worked your way up to becoming a full time pediatric nurse. The Capitals often visited the kids staying there and you happened to meet Tom one day on their Christmas visit, immediately blushing and thinking of how hot this guy was. Your coworkers were quick to spot how he was making you feel and kept teasing you about it until he walked in and heard the whole conversation. Your face when you saw him in the room had to have been priceless; he cracked up when you turned around and realized. It was one of the most embarrassing moments of your life but when you went to lunch that day there was a note waiting for you on the fridge. "You're cute when you're embarrassed. Text me sometime. Xo Tom" with his number attached to it. You couldn't believe he had an interest in you but you needed to play it cool and wait a few days to text him. 

You talked to him constantly the first couple of weeks, and you really thought there could be something between you two. However, with both of your jobs being so damn hectic, there was little to no time to see him and things fizzled out pretty quickly. You were bummed but the two of you still occasionally talked over the last few years and hung out as friends a couple of times.

Now he's standing there holding you, on the brink of a breakdown, in the middle of a loud and crowded club. Perfect circumstances, you think sarcastically. 

He lifts your chin up with one finger and looks in your eyes before he speaks this time. "Hey look at me. Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I uh, saw my ex on the dance floor and I'm kinda freaking out," you manage to get out while looking over your shoulder for any sign of your ex. 

Tom's demeanor instantly shifts from soft and serious to protective. "Has he hurt you? Do I need to beat his ass?" Now he looks around despite not knowing what he looks like. You chuckle to yourself but put a hand on his chest. 

"No you don't need to beat his ass but I appreciate the offer. He's never touched me but he can get scary when he's drunk. It didn't end well," you undersell how badly it ended so Tom wouldn't actually kill him tonight. "Just the sight of him put me into a panic but I feel a bit better now."

His eyes fixate back on you to find worry still written on your face. "Well now that I know that I'm not letting you be alone in here. Nobody should ever feel that way," he all but barks out. You flinch away from the sound slightly, his thumb rubbing your arm instinctively when he notices. "Do you still want to go to the bathroom for a minute? I'll wait here for you."

His strong presence alone calms you enough to feel okay again, though you want to make sure you don't look a mess before returning to your best friend. "Yeah, that would be great actually. Thanks, Tom," you smile at him as you slipped into the bathroom. Your hands brace the sink as you take a look at your flustered state in the mirror, not too bad for someone who basically saw a ghost. Your face is beet red but other than that, not even a hair out of place. Impressive. You’re glad for at least that, Tom seeing you like that and looking like a hot mess would've been even more embarrassing. You smooth your outfit swiftly before returning to Tom. 

"You okay?" he asks at your return and you give him a small nod. "Okay good, let's go get you some water," he holds his hand out for you to take and intertwines your fingers easily, making your heart skip a beat. Your eyes flick down to your hand and back up to Tom's face just in time to see the hint of a smile pulling at his lips while you weave through the crowd. The flush on your face is more prominent now, you’re sure of it. 

The heavy beat thumps against your chest, distracting you from your irregular heartbeat and dizzy thoughts. You run into someone and realize it's y/b/f/n. 

"Oh my god, y/n. Are you okay?! Sorry I couldn't get away from that guy in time to be with you. I think your ex left but I can't be 100% sure-" their rambling stops when they realize you have a giant man attached to your arm. "Oh wow, Tom right? How lucky is y/n that you're here tonight?!" They grab Tom for a hug, he looks surprised that they remember him and returns the hug, never letting go of your hand. "I'm so happy you're here!" you hear them yell in Tom's ear over the music. They look between the two of you and gesture back to the dance floor, "Shall we?" They reach for your free hand and drag both of you onto the crowded dance floor. Your eyes meet Tom's again as you raise your eyebrows at him, earning a laugh. 

You are starting to feel better and more comfortable just by having Tom's hand in yours. A poppy song starts playing so you start bopping along when Tom suddenly twirls you around and draws you back into his arms, face inches from yours when you start to feel the butterflies. It feels like you could stay this way for hours and be content with it. 

You sense Tom is thinking the same when he gives you a shy smile but he immediately surprises you by turning you back around and attaching himself to you, hands gripping your waist. You’re glad to be facing away from him just so he couldn't see the growing flush on your face. His mouth dips down to your ear and you shiver as he whispers, "Is this okay?" in a low voice. Your enthusiastic nod makes him giggle; meanwhile his hands grip your hips even tighter. Y/b/f/n catches a glimpse of you and wiggles their eyebrows up and down with a smirk. If you were closer to them, you would've smacked them in the arm. 

Y/b/f/n picks up their phone and is on a brief call before striding back over to you and Tom. "Hey, my friend is gonna pick me up and I'm staying at their place. Tom, you okay to take y/n home?" they ask suggestively while looking between the two of you; you both just laugh and Tom speaks up first. 

"Yeah I think I can handle that, as long as it's alright with y/n," he looks down at you expectantly and your heart speeds up once again. The effect that one sentence had on your body was almost embarrassing. 

"Y-yeah, yeah. Go with your friend, be safe," you completely stutter out. 

Y/b/f/n pulls you in for a hug and murmurs, "You owe me one, kid. Be safe and have fun," they wink at you and wave goodbye as they disappear into the crowd. 

….

The traumatic events of the night are just a memory now, Tom's frame against yours the only thing on your mind. The way his hands travel your body, how perfectly his body moves in sync with yours, the tension between you is electric and you both know it. 

In the spur of the moment, you turn to face him and interlock your hands behind his neck while pushing your hips towards him. His eyes sweep down, taking in your form while his lip is drawn between his teeth. The rhythm of your bodies never stops, just gets closer and more desperate for each other. The world seems to freeze when he looks into your eyes, down at your lips, and back up to your eyes again, silently asking permission for what he's wanted to do all night. You stop breathing for just a second before moving your hand to his cheek and going in for the kiss. 

It's slow at first, wanting. The way his lips envelope yours sends your mind wandering, hoping this night ends with you in his arms (and his bed). His tongue slowly slides into yours, making you melt into him even more. The rhythm of your tongues mimics your bodies and you're craving his touch everywhere. His hands come up to rest on your ass and you immediately remember you're in a public place. You break the kiss just to catch your breath while looking up at him through your lashes, seeing the blush on his face makes you want to jump on him right then and there. 

"Do you maybe… wanna get out of here?" you ask shyly, as if you weren't just dry humping on a crowded dance floor. His low laugh sends shivers down your spine as he nods.

"My place or yours?" he asks in your ear. Before moving away he places a soft kiss right below your earlobe and you can feel your heart rate speed up instantly. 

"Yours? If that's okay?" His hand finds yours and the walk outside feels unbearable. The crowd of people only slightly part to let you by, every moment you're not attached to him feels like eternity. It's a bit chilly outside and with how hot you already are, it makes your whole body shiver.

You're finally at his car and he opens the door for you, a hint of amusement in your smile. "Wow, what a gentleman, thank you," you tease, but before you can get in he lays a firm smack on your ass. The feeling goes right to your clit and turns you on more than you'd care to admit. His smirk shows he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"What was that about being a gentleman?" he breathes out while closing your door. The second he gets in the car, you are buzzing with electricity. Everything he does gets you hotter. The car revs and you're speeding off to his place, his hand on your thigh moving upwards until you think he's finally going to touch you but then he pulls away.

By the time you get to his house, your underwear is soaked with anticipation. He practically throws the car in park and runs around to your side of the car to open the door for you. Even for a hookup he's a gentleman, although a small part of your mind wants it to be more than a hookup. You never stopped thinking about him even while dating your ex. 

Tom's hand reaches for yours as he helps you out of the car, both of you eager to get inside. He fumbles with his keys before the door is finally unlocked. As soon as you walk in, he slams the door shut and backs you up into it. Your breath catches in your throat while you take in the sight of him; the way his shirt strains against his biceps, how his pants hug his waist just right. His eyes are doing the same to you while one hand hits the door next to your face and the other cups your cheek. He can't stop staring at your lips when he whispers, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this." It makes your knees go weak, but his body pressed against yours keeps you upright. His kiss is urgent but tender, one hand roaming your body. The kiss deepens and you're left breathless, fingers tugging on his hair and clawing at his chest, silently asking for more. He gets the hint easily and suddenly his hands grip under your thighs as he picks you up. The kiss is never broken while he walks backwards towards his room, his knees abruptly hit the side of his bed and you both fall on it, giggling the whole time. He puts his hands on your legs and picks you up once again, turning you around so he's on top of you. His kisses trail from your neck down to the hem of your top and his hands find the bottom of it. He looks up at you asking for permission, so you lift yourself up so he can take it off easily. 

His eyes go wide as soon as he sees your bare chest. "So fucking beautiful," he groans while moving his mouth towards your already hard nipples. His mouth is around one licking and sucking and you can't help the small moans escaping your mouth. Your hand finds his shoulder and you motion for him to take his shirt off. He's straddling you now and easily removes his shirt, the sight one you could never get tired of. His wide frame is chiseled and you can't help but reach out and touch it. Your hands trace his muscles before finding his button and undoing it. He bites his lip and sighs at the almost contact but you continue to move slowly just to tease him. Once his pants are finally off, he moves down the bed to take yours off. A whine catches in his throat when he sees you in nothing but your panties. He comes back up to kiss you, tongue darting in your mouth with impatience. His finger moves down your body leaving goosebumps in its place. He hooks your underwear around it and pulls them down around your ankles. His finger finds your clit easily, making you moan into his mouth. His thumb starts circling your clit while his strong fingers move to your soaked pussy. He grunts when he feels just how wet you are. 

"Fuck baby," he pants out, "so fucking wet for me huh?" You just nod in response, unable to form words. "Is this okay?" he asks while mouthing sloppy kisses down your stomach. 

"Yes, yes babe," you whine. The pulse in your clit is making it hard to not push his whole face down so he can give it the attention it needs. "Please, Tom."

His tongue finally finds your throbbing clit, slow and timid motions at first while he gets a feel for what you like. He licks a stripe down and back up through your slit, nose brushing your clit on the way back up. Tom’s tongue is moving in circles making your legs shake. He sucks your clit into his mouth and you can't control the noises that come out of your throat. His mouth comes off of you with a pop and he's smirking up at you between your legs before he suddenly puts one finger into you making you gasp. He pumps it into you a couple times before adding a second one and curling them in just the right way. Your chest is heaving and you can feel your orgasm building slowly when he pulls out of you. He stands up next to the bed and pulls his boxers down, hard cock finally springing free. You look up at him through your lashes and reach out to touch it. His eyes flutter shut the moment your hand is around him, slowly pumping him before you're kneeling in front of him to put it in your mouth. 

He looks so fucking pretty like this- lips red and swollen, dick eager to be in your mouth. His hand grips your hair, pulling your head back slightly before you lean in to kitten lick the tip. You swirl him around in your mouth briefly before taking half his length in your waiting mouth. His hips buck at the contact, fist tightening in your hair. You can feel him watching you, so you look up at him innocently before moving so his cock hits the back of your throat. The moan that leaves his mouth is so fucking hot so you keep going, moving his other hand to your head so he can better direct your movements. He goes gently at first but feels your moans around him so he increases his speed and starts to fuck your face. There's spit running out of your mouth and tears threatening to come out of your eyes but the look on his face makes your pussy quiver. 

He slows his motions and lets go of your face before helping you up. He signals for you to get on the bed while he gets a condom from his bedside table then rips it open with his teeth. Once it's on, he climbs over you and looks over your body before finding your eyes and brushing your hair back. You can't help but smile and blush at how the whole night has played out. 

His thumb comes up to rub at your cheek before asking quietly, "You ready?" You nod and return the favor of pushing his hair back while locking your legs behind him. He runs his cock through your folds and pushes into you gently. You both gasp at the feeling while he bottoms out. He gives you a second to adjust when he pulls almost all the way out and thrusts back in, making you whimper. Your walls are already fluttering around him, nails gripping his back. 

"Fuck y/n, I'm not gonna last when you feel this fucking good," he groans in your ear. He picks up the pace and starts thrusting even quicker, pelvic bone hitting your clit in the best way. You can feel yourself getting close when he slightly changes angles and makes you feel like you're floating. You move your body along with him, nails dragging down his back causing him to bite your shoulder. His cock is hitting in just the right place and you start to unravel underneath him, walls clenching as your orgasm hits. 

"Fuck Tom, I'm cumming," you whine while bucking your hips to meet his. The moan that escapes your lips when you finish just inches him closer. You're still out of breath, but you clamp your walls down on him making him curse softly. His thrusts become erratic and you know he's close. 

"Cum for me, babe," you whisper in his ear and pull on his hair, eliciting a loud gasp. He pumps into you a few more times and then stills while a string of curses falls from his lips. He kisses you sweetly before collapsing next to you on the bed. 

You both look at each other at the same time and you move to put your head on his panting chest. His arm comes firmly around you and gives you a small squeeze, fingers running through your damp hair. 

"Wow," he breathed out. "You're incredible, you know that?"

You can't help but giggle. Only 1 night spent with him and you already feel like a princess. 

"You're pretty incredible yourself."

"Remind me why we've never done that before?" he teases with a smirk. "Can I ask you something?" You just nod lightly in response. "Can I take you on a proper date?"

Your head whips up to look at him, the cheesy grin on your face hard to hide. His eyes light up as soon as he sees your expression. 

"I would love that, Tom," you answer cheerfully and he returns the smile. He leans down to kiss you and you both let out a content sigh. 

Hopefully this was the beginning of something special. 

[slashhinginghasher]

Closet Space - Jesse Cromeans x Marena Polunochnaya

Self-indulgent college AU? Self-indulgent college AU.

College senior Jesse Cromeans makes out with a hot international student at a frat party.

-

Jesse Cromeans and Caitlin Spann didn’t often go to frat parties anymore. The connections they’d gathered over the course of four years of business internships were enough to gain them access to real parties, not the desperate orgies of cheap sex and cheaper beer their peers engaged in. The Incident in their junior year also left Jesse reluctant to show his newly scarred face more than absolutely necessary. (Watching CEOs do lines of coke off of strippers’ tits in the hopes of getting a few business cards by the end of the night was necessary. Beer pong was not.) He’d made lots of excuses in that regard, and Spann was good enough not to call him out on it. But winter term was over, they’d both received their early acceptances from the Stanford School of Business, and tonight they felt like celebrating on somebody else’s dime.

They still made sure to choose one of the more monied fraternities. They did have standards, after all.

Old money or not, the inside of the frat house was still chaos. There was a massive, professionally decorated Christmas tree in the living room, which would be largely stripped of its ornaments and tinsel by drunk college kids come morning. Many of the girls had their tits out despite the winter chill, lots of skimpy, crushed velvet dresses and coquettish faux fur trim. Jesse was bombarded with greetings as soon as they walked through the door, and he fielded them with quickly waning patience as Spann drifted off to go do Spann things. He’d achieved a somewhat legendary status on campus after turning a first year stock market exercise into millions of real dollars. Spann had been his partner on that project, but she was perfectly content to take her cut of the money and leave the credit to him. She preferred to work in the background, claiming she got more done when she didn’t have to deal with the interpersonal bullshit politics that Jesse navigated so well.

He eventually wound up in the kitchen, where a steady stream of party-goers helped themselves to overpriced snacks (who put out charcuterie boards at a frat party, honestly?) and mixed half-assed cocktails that were 10% mixer at best. A couple groped at each other next to the pantry, and a short girl with dark, wild hair and an intense expression surveyed the stream of human traffic over the rim of a red solo cup. Jesse poured himself another whiskey and leaned against the island next to her.

PLANNING A MURDER?

The girl jumped slightly at the sound of his phone’s electronic voice, then glanced at him with startlingly blue eyes. She scoffed and took a swig of what looked like water or straight vodka.

“Just contemplating, not planning.” Her voice was lower than Jesse expected from someone her size, with a thick Eastern European accent. His lips twitched with a smile. He did always like them sharp, and a good chase was just what he needed tonight.

YOU DON’T SEEM TO BE ENJOYING YOURSELF.

“I’m not.”

THEN WHY COME?

“I’m fucking poor, and there’s free food.” As if to make a point, she turned around and started rummaging through the fridge like she owned the place. Jesse found himself at a loss for words, a laugh stuck halfway between his chest and his throat.

IF YOU’RE THAT POOR HOW DO YOU AFFORD THIS PLACE?

Jesse and Spann would graduate debt-free thanks to their stock market exploits, but the tuition at their university was… hefty, to say the least. He imagined it would be even worse for an international student.

“They gave me a lot of money because I am very sad orphan girl. And I am also devastatingly sexy,” she said, emerging from the fridge and shoving half a slice of pizza into her mouth in one bite. She flashed him a peace sign that somehow managed to be blisteringly sarcastic and sauntered away with her prize.

She was wearing a heavy plaid skirt that hit mid-calf, her black top looked like it had been run through a woodchipper and reassembled with safety pins, and she was eating stolen pizza straight out of the box.

Jesse wholly agreed with her self-assessment. The sexy part, at least.

***

He was still thinking about her an hour later when Spann sidled up on her platform stilettos, her balance impeccable despite her obvious intoxication.

“There’s a group of loudmouths gathering ‘round the pool table in the basement,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder. “You in a betting mood?”

“A hunting mood,” he signed.

“Ooooh.” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically. “Got your sights set on anyone?”

“I might.”

Most people thought Spann and Jesse were an item just because they lived together and spent almost every public moment attached at the hip. Which were pretty good reasons, when one thought about it. But Spann was largely a commitment girl, and Jesse was decidedly not. Spann didn’t want to be a metaphorical notch on a bedpost; Jesse didn’t want to be tied down. They’d made out once as an experiment at the end of their freshman year, then hashed out the boundaries of their relationship in a five-minute conversation that they’d followed ever since.

Jesse had no idea why other people had to make relationships so damn complicated.

Before Spann could convince Jesse to come watch her annihilate some frat boys at pool, the fraternity president approached them. He was a douchebag of the highest order - the type of guy who insisted on being addressed by his last name because his first name was Edwin or Briggsley or some other rich prick idiocy - and Jesse and Spann both hated him, but his obscenely wealthy father would be a useful business contact in the future, so they forced themselves to be cordial.

“Some of the girls are organizing a game of Truth or Dare in the den. You feeling bold, Caitlin?” he asked with a cocky grin. He was also the sort of douchebag who addressed all women by their first name, including his professors and women like Spann who could break his spine over their knee.

“No, thank you,” Spann said, cold and sweet as ice cream. “I finished high school years ago.” He laughed, the insult and the rejection rolling harmlessly off his shiny money veneer, and turned to Jesse.

“How about you, Cromeans?” Jesse was on the verge of saying no when he saw a mane of black hair being led, somewhat reluctantly, towards the small crowd gathering in the den. He shrugged with practiced nonchalance and held up his phone.

SURE, WHY THE FUCK NOT?

“Atta boy!” President Edwin Briggsley Douchebag III clapped him on the shoulder, and Jesse had to force himself not to break the twat’s hand. The other boy left to continue his rounds, recruiting anything with a pair of tits for his little game. Spann - god damn her fucking eagle eyes - had tracked Jesse’s gaze and was now grinning deviously.

“I heard she has sessions with Malloy every other week,” she whispered in his ear, referring to one of the lead staff at the university’s mental health clinic. “Condition of her enrollment.”

Now that was interesting.

“Happy hunting,” she cackled, elbowing him playfully in the ribs. “I’m off to make some rich boys cry.”

***

People were so dreadfully predictable, Jesse thought. Nearly ten people in and not a hint of creativity to be found. People who chose Truth were asked to recount their sexual history or most embarrassing moments; those who picked Dare were promptly relieved of articles of clothing. The object of his momentary obsession appeared to be having similar thoughts as she watched the proceedings with heavy-lidded boredom. The crowd booed as one of the boys dared a girl to kiss him and she threw herself at him with great enthusiasm.

“That’s not a real dare, you’re her fucking boyfriend!” someone protested. The girl stuck her tongue out at them, then shoved it back in her boyfriend’s mouth. There were more jeers and whistles and a few calls for them to get a room. One of the boys tried to get back everyone’s attention.

“Alright, alright, whatever, next victim!” He pointed at Jesse’s girl and trailed off, apparently realizing he didn’t know her name.

“Mareeeennnnaaaaa!” cooed the girl who’d roped her in to the game, dragging the vowels out in a drunken sing-song.

“Marena!” the boy announced. Marena quirked a brow, apparently unimpressed with his pronunciation. “Truth or dare!”

“Dare,” she said with zero hesitation. The boy honest to god rubbed his hands together and grinned like he was about to say something genius.

“Twenty minutes in heaven.” Not that genius, then. He grabbed the closest empty beer bottle and held it up with two fingers. “Spin the bottle and whoever it lands on gets locked in a closet with you for twenty minutes.”

Like hell was Jesse going to let one of these dumb fucks get her alone for even one minute.

“I thought it was normally seven minutes.”

“Are you backing out?” Marena flipped him off as an answer and snatched the bottle from him, sending it spinning with an elegant flick of her fingers.

She had a few whitish scars on her hand and wrist, barely visible in the low light.

Jesse tensed as the bottle slowed, frantically thinking up reasons to start a fight with whoever it landed on. But his efforts were unnecessary, because the universe and physics were on his side that night. The crowd erupted into a clamor of hoots and hollers like someone had just won the lottery. None of them had really expected Jesse to participate; he had connections and status and thus was too cool to be anything more than a silent watcher. President Douchebag ushered the pair to the nearest closet - a walk-in (fortunately for Jesse’s long limbs) that had been converted to a coat room for the night - leering at Jesse like they were good buddies who’d discuss the relative merits of European pussy over drinks later. Jesse ignored him and, ever the gentleman, gestured Marena in before him with a little half bow. Her head barely reached his chest as she passed him wordlessly; she was only a little taller than Spann and she was wearing flats. The door was shut and they were plunged into darkness, the sounds of the party muffled by the thick wood.

A few seconds of quiet stillness passed before Marena turned on her phone (which was at least three models out of date), using the light from the (cracked) screen as a flashlight. She looked ghostly in the faint, bluish light, the shadows deepened in the hollows of her eye sockets. Jesse leaned back against the door and folded his arms as she started a slow circuit of the tiny room, observing the winter jackets twisted haphazardly on every available hanger and piled in the corners on the floor. He would have loved to immediately start making use of his twenty minutes, but there was something animal and twitchy about the way she moved that made him think that any sudden moves would be met with teeth. She did not look at him, or at the way his posture and shirt emphasized the size of his biceps, which he didn’t like, and he really didn’t like the tension creeping into her slender shoulders. When he touched her arm to get her attention, she jolted as though shot.

YOU GOOD?

The amount of time she spent mulling over the question was a clear enough “no”, but she still answered anyway.

“The last time I was locked in a closet was… unpleasant.”

UNPLEASANT IN WHAT WAY?

Thoughts of high school boys with beer breath and over-insistent hands were filling him with a slow rage.

“In a ‘listening to someone be violently murdered outside the door’ way.”

Well, damn. Okay.

WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING?

“You ask a lot of questions,” Marena snapped.

I CAN DISTRACT YOU ANOTHER WAY IF YOU LIKE.

She resumed her pacing, chewing her lip, but she looked more contemplative than tense. Jesse was acutely aware of the ticking clock.

“When did you lose your voice?”

I NEVER HAD ONE.

“What happened to your face?”

NOW WHO’S ASKING TOO MANY QUESTIONS?

“Answer it and you can distract me however you want.”

He didn’t need a business degree to know that he was being offered a fantastic fucking deal.

I PICKED A FIGHT WITH THE WRONG PERSON.

Jesse barely waited for the electronic voice to finish the last syllable before tossing his phone to the floor and charging her. He burrowed both hands into that black mass of hair and crushed his lips to hers like a starving man. Her skin was cool, but he felt her hands like brands through his shirt when she placed them against his chest for balance. He tightened his grip on her hair, hard enough to pull slightly on her scalp, and let one hand wander lower, fingertips catching on safety pins and ripped fabric as he made his way down to the modest curve of her ass. In turn, her touch moved upwards, exploring the muscles of his chest and shoulders, sliding up his neck until her thumbs rested firmly over his jugular. It was a bold move, dominant, and he wanted - needed - to get closer to her, to press her body against his in a way their height difference would not currently allow.

Marena wrapped her legs around him with no coaxing when he picked her up by the waist, walking forwards until her back pressed flat against the door. She was so light, like a little hollow-boned bird, and if he’d had a little more blood in his brain he’d be worried about crushing her. As it was, his blood was rapidly migrating south and the only thing he was concerned about was the taste of her as he nibbled on her full lower lip. He nipped at her, hard enough to sting, then soothed the hurt with his tongue, and was surprised when her tongue darted forward to meet his. He rolled his hips into hers, slow and deep, as he explored her mouth, wishing there was less clothing in the way. His cock was pressed painfully against his zipper, but he made no move to free it; he was not going to fuck her for the first time under a time constraint.

Finally, he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as they both panted for air. Jesse shoved a hand up Marena’s shirt, closing over her small breast and rubbing his thumb against the hardening nub of her nipple through her bra. Her head rolled back against the door with a soft thunk, granting him access to the soft skin of her throat. He latched onto her pulse point, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and Marena purred. The sound shot straight to his groin, and he had a sudden, intense desire to bite down until the salty warmth of her blood filled his mouth and dripped down his chin.

He wrenched back. Jesse was no stranger to violent impulses - had even followed through on quite a few of them - but he didn’t want to ruin the evening by murdering this girl in a closet. Undeterred, Marena grabbed his head with both hands and attacked his mouth with hers. She kissed him ferociously, voraciously, a clash of teeth and tongue, and when she bit his lip hard enough to make him bleed, he almost came on the spot. His hands were all over her, needing to feel every inch of her body but barely registering the ridges of scar tissue they encountered. She slid her hands into his back pockets and pulled him in until his pelvis was flush against hers. He leaned in with his full weight, and the only thing in the world that existed was the heavy grind of his hips against hers and the hot, wet dance of their mouths.

He was so close to saying fuck it, ripping her clothes off and going to town right there on the closet floor, when someone pounded on the door.

“Knock knock, Cromeans! Put your dick away!” Jesse snarled, already planning a way to slaughter the little asshole who’d interrupted the best not-fuck of his life. The sensation of Marena’s body sliding against his as she settled on her feet sent another lightning bolt of pleasure down his spine. There was a shuffle of fabric as Marena picked up her phone and tried to put herself back in order. Jesse didn’t bother; he knew they both looked a damn mess and he didn’t give a single fuck. In fact, the only thing he cared about at the moment was getting her into his bed so he could finish what he’d started.

“Thanks for the distraction,” Marena murmured, opening the door to a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles. She rolled her eyes and started shouldering her way through the crowd. She didn’t look back, which stung a little, and Jesse gave a sarcastic little salute to the crowd to avoid looking like a lovelorn asshole before retreating to the basement.

***

He didn’t realize until much later in the evening that she’d stolen his fucking wallet.

[lannee]

even my phone misses your call (by the way) - part 1

jo yeong x koo seo ryeong fanfic

AO3: link

_

It’s only 9:30 and the Prime Minister is already on the verge to implode.

If she has to endure another unnecessarily stupid conversation with the men existed within 10m of her seat, she might truly lose it. So she shuts them up, and walks towards the door. She can hear it vividly in the air, through the look in their eyes, “What a cocky brat, leaving again in the middle of an important meeting, with so many elite people twice her age”. As if she actually cares, as if she has the time to ponder over whatever nasty things they think of her.

She gave up doing that years ago. Koo Seo Ryeong did not crawl her way out of a fish market and become the youngest female Prime Minister of Corea to put up with some 60 year old men’s bullshit. So of course she leaves, whispering death threats to Secretary Kim for not doing his job properly and forcing her to attend another useless meeting that can just be a goddamn report on her table.

Back to the office, she walks straight to her private balcony after taking out a pack of cigarettes she secretly keeps in the room. Seo Ryeong is not a regular smoker, not silly enough to sustain an addictive habit that can damage her impeccable skin. But here she is, stressed out of her mind, holding the lighter so very close she can almost feel the nicotine coming in like waves. Then out of nowhere, she thinks of him.

She thinks of 20 year old Jo Yeong, to be exact. Standing in front of her under the heavy July rain while carefully taking the cigarette out of her soft lips. Jo Yeong with his navy umbrella. Always managed to find her at her worst, always be there next to her without saying anything because words were usually wasted when you talked to Koo Seo Ryeong.

God, he really ruins cigarettes for her. She throws the whole pack into the trash bin along with the one on her lips.

She hates him so much, it almost makes her want to see him just to say that to his face.

But they do not do things like that anymore.

_

When Yeong passed the entrance exam of Corea National University, Seo Ryeong was books deep into her Master degree in Political Science and International Relations. He instantly became popular in the campus for being the King’s closest friend, with rumors about him floating around every lecture that she attended. She studied with Lee Gon for years and never met him or his friends outside, but whenever they talked he always mentioned Yeong’s name and stories about what they did together in the palace.

She listened tentatively to everything he said not because she had a huge crush on him and wanted to be his Queen, as every jealous fangirl in the campus always thought of her, but because she needed to know every deep dark secret of the King of Corea. She knew it would tremendously help her career as a politician in the future. That was the reason why she followed him around like an innocent puppy, the pretty girl with a lovely figure who came from the dirty market and scored the highest grade on the insanely difficult entrance exam. She beat out Gon fair and square, sometimes late at night she even dreamed about taking the throne of his to herself. If people knew about her thoughts, they would laugh at her and spit on her face but frankly, she thought if she wanted it enough, she could be the Queen of Corea. With or without Gon by her side.

When Gon introduced Yeong to her for the first time, she could not read his face at all. She was used to be so good at knowing people after the first meeting, but Yeong stirred her curiosity and she felt strangely intrigued by him. Maybe it was because he did not talk much, he had an incredibly calm expression and most of the times he only looked at Gon. He acted like a well-trained bodyguard around the King, which she found quite hilarious. Gon already had an army walking around him every step, and with Yeong by his side it felt even impossible to her how she could still hang out with them so casually. She and Gon both knew they worked perfectly together as a team. Even when they had zero interest in each other romantically, she earned her place to be by his side and let’s be honest, he would never pass any group project without her insights and intelligence. It took Yeong a while to understand this, he was always careful and silent when she was around. She could feel him trying to crack her facade, as if he was able to see through her 10 year plan of becoming the Prime Minister of Corea.

He did not trust her, and it annoyed her how she cared about that more than she thought.

-

It started out with Seo Ryeong simply wanting to earn Yeong’s approval. She tried to ask him personal questions, which he only gave out vague answers that did not satisfy her at all. They even went together to a few field trips exclusively for the university’s top students, and girls followed him around all day hopelessly asking for his phone number. Sometimes he intentionally tried to find Seo Ryeong and asked her to go out for a walk in order to escape their horny fellow students. Everybody seemed to be intimidated whenever they saw her. She made fun of him every single time, “How desperate you are to come to me for help”. Gon never went with them on those trips due to security reasons, obviously. It surprised her how much she enjoyed having Yeong all for herself. He bought her food after their walk and one time somehow they ended up drinking beer together in Gyeongju. He told her about his family, mostly to subdue the awkwardness between them, and even asked her about things she never cared to share with anyone. They were both not a fan of getting deep and personal, their stories ended quickly and strangely left her longing for more. She did not know how to talk to him without sounding premeditated. Only with him did she feel like maybe she was not good enough. Maybe she needed to live life differently, to drop the act and let him see all of her calculations.

That was when she unknowingly started flirting with him a bit. She tried that with Gon years ago until they both realized the true intention of being in each other’s life. Then she did it with Yeong because there seemed to be no other way to get closer to him, she was kind of impatient and definitely not herself. She started drinking a lot around that time because of all the essays she had to write, relationships with important people she had to maintain while staying alert around Yeong and waiting for him to be under her control.

A week before she submitted her final thesis, she did the most stupidly cliche thing ever, and that was drunk calling Jo Yeong while she was out drinking alone. She was fed up with reading and writing and living alone in the city. Most nights she could not sleep peacefully and had no idea when the last time she ate a proper meal. So she drove to the closest bar she could find and drank half a bottle of expensive whiskey which would cost a lot of the money that she made working part time. She counted in her head how many days were left before she could stop with the pretentious studying and actually start working on her long overdue plans. Five glasses led to nine, then some guys came over offering to buy her drinks. She remembered being sober enough to drop mean words and scare most of them away. One guy stuck around for so long and was shamelessly insistent about bringing her home, she had to pull the boyfriend-coming-here-very-soon card. She knew she was completely intoxicated when she pressed his name on her phone. There was no way she would come out of the bar safely if she didn’t call someone she could trust.

“Noona, it’s 2 AM. What’s going on?”, he picked up after a few seconds and said boringly. Like he was about to fall asleep but she appeared out of nowhere and prevented that from happening.

She chuckled, regretting whatever she was doing in the back of her mind, “I don’t know, why don’t you come here and find out?”

“And where are you exactly?”, he signed.

She told him the address, and imagined him wondering why he even answered her call. She was so drunk, the thought of him not coming at all actually scared her. The guy next to Seo Ryeong kept on persuading her to go with him, to leave her fictitious boyfriend behind and stop acting hard to get. She laughed in disgust without batting an eye and continued drinking. The funny thing was none of the guys dared to touch her for too long, she guessed she had that kind of power. Time passed slowly and she was convinced Yeong did not care enough to drive all the way here from the palace to deal with someone he never really trusted. So when he called out her name from behind, she almost fell from the stool where she was sitting. Then everything suddenly happened too quick, too fast.

Yeong held her upright, one hand caressing her face, the other tugging her messy hair behind her ears. He asked for the bill and paid for it. She leaned her head on his chest during the whole card transaction, when he had to sign the bill his arms surrounded her. He was wearing a black linen shirt and dark jeans. Did he always smell this good? She buried her face in his neck absentmindedly and inhaled his scent. She could feel Yeong stopped abruptly in the middle of asking the bartender about something related to her drunken state. He wanted to know if she was alone the whole time, and she kind of imagined him not wanting any guy near her. Then he carried her out the front door, the early summer heat was suffocating and she told him she wanted to lie down somewhere. He quickly put her on the passenger seat of his car and she tugged on his shirt to pull him closer while he was trying to secure the seatbelt.

Seo Ryeong woke up in the morning with the worst headache ever. Her room smelled faintly of vomit. She panicked for exactly 10 seconds while everything from the night before flashing through her mind. She did not remember anything at all after entering Yeong’s car. She still wore the same clothes from last night, covered by her warm blanket. Her room seemed pretty clean, maybe he helped her to the bathroom before she made a mess of herself... For the first time in her life, she wanted to end her existence right there. While trying to grab the phone she saw a bottle of hangover cure on her bedside table. There was a text from him, sent 2 hours ago, “Drink it, cook some soup, text me when you’re awake.”

Could a heart ever get swollen? Because it felt like hers kind of did. She prayed to all the Gods above she did not say anything stupid to him during the drive home.

.

.

.

it’s been awhile since i wrote a fanfic. i didn’t know i needed to write a fanfic for these 2 incredible characters until i read this by @rain-hat​ - thank you for inspiring me dear. writing this is fun because i kind of know they’ll never be canon lmao. so i just went wild with my imagination. i’ll post part 2 maybe this weekend after the new episodes come out. hopefully there will be some scenes of them together. i literally only watch Eun Chae and Do Hwan’s scenes and skip the rest of this drama. please tell me i’m not the only one! 

title is from From the dining table - my fav song by Harry <3

hope you enjoy this!

[megalony]

Sweet hurt- Part 3

Here is the next part of my Ben Hardy series which I hope you are all enjoying so far, feedback is always welcome.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me

Summary: Ben has never talked to (Y/n) about his family that he has no contact with, but when his sister convinces him to try and reconnect with his family, things get tricky and old feuds and secrets arise.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closing his eyes, Ben leaned his head against Finn's that was resting on his shoulder as the four-year-old was almost fast asleep. When Finn's arms tightened ever so slightly around Ben's neck, something seemed to tug at his heart in both a good and bad way that made him hold onto his boy tighter.

Ben didn't want to make the mistakes his father had made with him.

He didn't want to row with Finn on such a scale that Finn decided he never wanted to see him again and left without looking back. Ben knew that his heart would break in such a way it would never be repaired if Finn ever left like that and it was partially or fully Ben's fault. It had taken so much out of Ben to leave home and promise himself he wasn't going to go back and seeing Roger cry the other day showed Ben that his dad did care when all these years Ben thought he hadn't.

But it wasn't enough. The pain and the care weren't enough because Ben couldn't find it in himself to forgive Roger for what he had said and that had nothing to do with Ben wanting to keep a grudge with his dad. He wanted to find that common ground because grudges weren't easy to keep and they were too much effort to last forever. Fighting wasn't what Ben wanted to do but his scars ran too deep for him to be able to let Roger back into his life easily in case his wounds reopened again.

Gently resting his hand to the back of Finn's head, Ben leaned down and laid the little boy down on his bed, attempting to put him to sleep and sneak out before Finn noticed but he was still awake even if he was drowsy and on the verge of slumber. His arms stayed put around Ben's neck and a small whine left his lips when Ben attempted to move his arms and pull away.

He sighed playfully before slowly laying down beside Finn who smiled in triumph before he burrowed himself into Ben's side.

"Daddy?"

"Hmm?" Ben rested his free arm behind his head which was tilted down so he could look at Finn who was trying very hard to keep his tired eyes open so he could look up at his dad.

"Is Andrea your mummy?" The hesitation in his sleepy voice was clear, he didn't know whether he was allowed or meant to ask or if he was supposed to ignore the burning questions he was beginning to have but he wanted to ask. Finn had never really asked Ben about his family before, he seemed to just accept that Ben didn't have any or that he didn't want Finn to see them and that had always been okay with him.

Ben tipped his head back so he could stare up at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling that were providing a night light for Finn so he could get up during the night without feeling afraid of the shadows that lurked in the dark. Ben couldn't lie to Finn forever and if Finn was going to see Andrea and Lucy again then he was going to have to know who they were eventually. Ben didn't so much have a problem with the girls like he did with Roger and Joe, granted he had some unsolved issues with his mum but they were ones he was ready to bury and forget. He wanted to make peace with his mum and he knew she was desperate to have Finn in her life now she knew about him.

"Yes, she is, and Lucy's my little sister." A small smile pulled at his lips when the words didn't cause waves of fear to rush through him or worry or annoyance or regret. He felt calm and like he was doing the right thing by talking about them.

"What about your daddy?"

"I don't talk to him very much, we don't get along." Ben's arm moved to accommodate Finn when he tiredly pushed himself up so he was half laying on Ben's chest so he could look up at him better. There was confusion written on his features as he didn't understand why Ben wouldn't get along with his dad since he and Ben got along so well.

"Why not?"

How was he supposed to answer that? There was no way that Ben could tell Finn the truth when (Y/n) didn't even know the reason why. It would be too confusing and upsetting to tell Finn and it didn't matter, Ben wasn't very likely to get his father-son relationship back with Roger and he didn't want it back either. Ben wanted his dad out of his life because it was easier and less hurtful that way despite however Roger felt about the matter.

"Ohh... we argued a lot and said mean things, we had a lot of fights, not seeing him is easier for me now." Ben slowly started to card his fingers through Finn's hair to try and settle him down to go to sleep but he could see the wheels turning in his head and the look of worry on his face.

"We don't argue..." Finn pressed his face into Ben's chest as he trailed off and Ben guessed what he meant. He seemed to be worried that their relationship would turn out like Ben and Roger's had. But Ben wouldn't let that happen, he would never say anything that would push Finn away and he would never let Finn walk out of his life and not look back, he would do anything to make sure that his relationship with his son was the best it could be. Ben wasn't losing his son like Roger had lost him.

"'Course we don't, listen, you and me are different. We're not going to fight like that I promise, I won't let that happen. Now you need to go to sleep because it's late." He pressed a longing kiss to Finn's temple before he gently moved off the bed and laid Finn back down, pulling the covers over him.

"Love you, daddy."

"I love you too."

The moment Ben sat don on the sofa, he let his eyes fall closed and tipped his head back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. He internally groaned at the fact that he had to go to work tomorrow night, one thing about the job that Ben didn't like was the night shifts because they messed with his system. He barely did one night shift a week, sometimes he got away without doing one for a whole month but when he did them they made him feel ill. Staying up through the night and then not being able to catch a proper sleep the next day, it made him miss a night of sleep and when he'd done two in a row he thought he was continuously going to pass out.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Opening his eyes, Ben slowly turned his head until his eyes locked on (Y/n)'s frame as she walked into the living room and slowly sat down beside him on the sofa. Leaning her head on his shoulder when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He nodded and hummed in response, waiting to see what she wanted to ask.

"The other day, why didn't your mum have any pictures of you or your other brother? I know you fell out and all, but if Finn ever left I don't think I'd rid the house of him." (Y/n) tried her best not to sound rude or uncaring or push the boundaries because Ben might not even know why his parents decided that he shouldn't have his picture in their house anymore. But she found it odd.

If one day she and Ben fell out with Finn (Y/n) wouldn't take down the pictures of him or his drawings or certificates or anything off the walls, she would leave them even if they caused bad memories because he was their son. Finn was their little boy and it would feel wrong to make it look like he had never existed or never lived with them. (Y/n) had noticed straight away that there had been only one picture in the whole house that had Ben in it, all the others were of Roger and Andrea through the years and Lucy and Joe. (Y/n) couldn't even see another boy in the photos who she thought could be Ben's other brother.

"Because whenever my mother looked at me, I made her cry. When I left I guess it was easier to rid my memory so she didn't get upset." Ben knew that the reason he wasn't in pictures anymore was because he was seen as a disgrace to them and he did upset his mother. Whenever she had looked at him, she remembered bad things that had happened and the things that he had done and it made her upset. To a point Ben had understood but he thought it was a bit cruel to completely rid his memory like that.

"And your dad? What happened with you two, why won't you make peace with him?" (Y/n) wasn't telling Ben that he should be making things up with his dad but she couldn't help but question what had happened to cause Ben to be so hostile towards his father.

"My dad told me he wished I was dead, I'm not making peace with him after that."

Ben felt (Y/n) shiver against him and her arms tighten around his chest like she was making sure to hold all his pieces together in case he suddenly snapped or broke down in front of her. It had taken Ben a long time to come to terms with what Roger had said and try to forgive him for that but he couldn't.

Roger, the man who Ben had loved and admired for eighteen years, told him that he wished he was dead. Those words had cut through Ben like a knife and made him feel worthless, Roger made him feel like he didn't deserve his life and like he was a disappointment. Those feelings were ones Ben shouldn't have had to feel but Roger made him, if Ben ever said that to Finn he would never be able to apologise enough and sorry was never going to be good enough for Ben to forgive Roger.

"Did your brother do something to upset them too?"

"Yeah, he died."

(Y/n) couldn't work out the tone Ben used when he spoke, he didn't sound pained, he sounded angry, resentful and he sighed like his brother's death was an annoyance. The wheels started to turn in (Y/n)'s mind as Ben pulled away from her and sat up so he could rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands.

"Thomas." (Y/n) breathed through the name that was now swirling around in her head on a loop. It made sense, Ben said Thomas had died and he said it was someone who was close to him. She had often found Ben staring at the tattoo or absentmindedly tracing his hands over it without even realising what he was doing. Ben didn't generally like tattoos that had no meaning or were there for the sake of it, but if his brother had died Ben would see that as a good and meaningful thing to have inked onto his skin.

"If you see my family again, that is a name we don't mention. As far as they're concerned, he doesn't exist outside of memory and I don't want to talk about him either." Ben wasn't being stern or cruel but he was telling (Y/n) for her own good.

If she visited his family again and mentioned Thomas everyone would shut down without hesitation. Thomas was someone who they loved but didn't talk about, they could think and miss him but he was not to be mentioned and as much as that angered Ben, it was easier. No one would argue if they didn't bring Thomas up in conversation and the memories were too much for Ben, talking about his brother was something he couldn't do.

(Y/n) slowly pressed her lips against Ben's neck to try and calm him down and let him know that it was okay.

She could see now that whatever reason had caused Ben and his family to fall out, Ben wasn't going to tell her and she was going to have to live with that for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We're having dinner this Sunday, will you come along?"

Ben forced a smile onto his lips as he let his mum take his hand in hers, he could see the pleading and the anticipation in her eyes as she willed for him to say yes. A family dinner didn't sound like the best idea to Ben because it wouldn't be the same as it used to be. They always had dinner together on a Sunday no matter what was happening or how old they were, but it was a tradition that had long since stopped now, at least for Ben it had. There would be one of them missing without Thomas and Ben would feel out of place.

But he could hear (Y/n)'s voice in his head, urging him to do this. After all, he was trying to make amends and get along with his family now. Lucy was so desperate to have Ben back in her life and so were Joe and Andrea, Ben was ready to let everything be put to bed and try and get along. He knew it wouldn't be the same and not everything was going to be okay but being at peace with them might be the best idea.

"Sure, mum." Ben nodded as he spoke, managing to make his smile seem less forced when she grinned and held his hand a bit tighter.

"(Y/n) and Finn, will you bring them along? She seems like a lovely girl."

"We'll see. If Roger's gonna be there I can't stay long, you know that, right?" Ben didn't want to say no and upset his mother but he didn't want (Y/n) to feel awkward or to bring Finn if any arguments or tension was going to arise because that wouldn't be fair. But Andrea nodded, her smile staying strong because she understood and Ben didn't decline the offer so she could still hope he would bring them along.

"I know." Andrea dared not comment on how Ben wasn't calling him dad and that broke her heart, but they all knew what had gone on and she couldn't blame Ben for how he felt.

Ben was willing to sit through a family dinner with Roger but he wouldn't converse with his dad and he wouldn't stay too long in Roger's presence. Ben would try and be peaceful but playing happy families wasn't something he was willing to do and Roger wasn't someone he was willing to talk to.

Turning his head, Ben let the smile slip from his lips when he noticed Joe silently beckoning him over, clearly wanting to talk which they hadn't done in eight years now. Ben hadn't even said one word to him the first time they saw one another last week, he didn't know what to say and he couldn't bring himself to try and act like everything was okay or like the past was in the past when it wasn't. Ben held Joe's secrets in the palm of his hand and if they got out their family would be breaking at the seams.

Ben patted Andrea's hand before he got up and wandered over to the dining room where Joe was stood with a cup of coffee in his hand.

"I... I'm not asking you to forgive me or act brotherly or like nothing's happened, I know it's hard and you don't want to forgive me and that's fine. I just want to try and be civil, if we can talk or just be in the same room again, it would mean a lot to mum... and to me." Joe would never ask Ben to forgive him because that was Ben's choice when and if he wanted to do that and he wasn't asking to forget what had happened or pretend they were the best of friends.

But it was tiring to try and keep up the tension or cold stares or simply ignoring each other took a lot of energy. Joe knew it would be better for everyone if they could get along or just be civil with each other, he wanted Ben back in his life.

"Does this have anything to do with the fact that I know your secrets? You don't have to worry you know, I'm not here to upset anyone or tell them what you did." Ben crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Joe's expression turn into one of tiredness and sadness, but with a hint of worry in his eyes.

Ben wasn't trying to get along with them all again simply so he could spill Joe's secrets and break their family apart for the second time. He wasn't that cruel or vindictive no matter what they thought of him. Ben had no interest telling anyone of Joe's secrets because it wasn't worth it to him, Joe had no reason to worry about that.

"I know you won't, that's not why I'm asking. You're finally back in our lives and I don't want to have you back simply to glare at you or be ignored, can't we call a truce or something?" Joe held out his hand and his foot started to tap against the floor when Ben simply stared at his hand without making a move to try shake it and call it quits between them. He was making Joe sweat as he mulled over his choices. He didn't want to break everything apart by talking about what he knew about his brother, and a truce might be the best thing for them if they were to move on.

"Alright, I can be civil but I can't forgive you. All this shit I'm going through, this is because of you and I'm not forgetting that in a hurry."

[thisgirlhastales]

“Wayward Son” — Is There Peace When You Are Done?

What we have here is an essay of sorts: a loosely organized mishmash of thoughts and opinions. Disclaimer that this is highly subjective, as it is based on my own experiences and expectations going into this novel :)

And, naturally, many Wayward Son spoilers below the cut! If you haven’t read it yet and are planning to do so, please do not proceed further. If you’ve already read it or don’t care about spoilers, c’mon in! Ain’t nobody here but me!

First Thing: I thought the plot was cool — I loved seeing the characters again, loved seeing the different magical culture within the United States as compared to the UK; all the geographical variety and how that impacted magical abilities and politics, the creatures and the nature of magic as it applied to people who aren’t mages, the syntax, and Shepard. All of that was fascinating. It felt organic and real, even though our main dude, Shepard, did drop a few exposition bombs. I loved it all.

The magical creatures touch on something that I think all the main characters learn and re-learn (and may be symbolic of their issues as a whole): there is no one way to do or be magic. The word magician can apply to any creature who is or practices magic. The UK’s mages have an expansive but selective history. They do not acknowledge people like Lamb (see Nicodemus), even though they are technically part of their world. I wonder if the UK vampires have something like what the Las Vegas vampires do — i.e. ways to feed without killing, ways of living without standing out so much, a hierarchal structure, their own historical narrative, etc. 

Agatha coming into her own was fabulous, driving the plot with the vampires on her end; she wasn’t a character I enjoyed in the last book too much (I thought she was very real, even practical, she just didn’t appeal to me as a person), but in this? Loved her. And she figured out her own way to be, though there’s still a ways to go for her, I think …

There is no one way to be anything, and that’s a lesson everyone in this book needs to learn (and talk about with each other, please, please, please).

Second Thing: Dealing with Trauma — I do think this was what resonated most with me, as someone who likes it when things are not perfectly hunky-dory after severely traumatic events.

Simon is Not Dealing. He stopped going to his psychologist. He thinks about the Mage, but doesn’t fully process the impact of having killed him. He’s in mourning over his magic and the Mage and all of it, but he’s choosing to not digest it fully — every time he was happy on this road trip, I, like Baz, was thrilled, but I also knew that it was fleeting because he hadn’t really dealt with anything. The underlying cause of his depression and listlessness wasn’t being addressed. His bursts of anger, his heartbreak, his inability to let go of the wings … He goes back and forth a lot, as well, tormenting himself.

Baz is Not Dealing. Baz was suicidal in Carry On. Baz barely knows anything about vampires. He lives in fear of being a monster, and of being executed as one regardless of his actions. As much as I detest Lamb, he had knowledge: How to feed without killing your prey. How to live amongst people and blend in better. He looked physically healthier. Baz’s grey complexion is actually a sign that he is starving more often than not. Remember how powerful he is now, and imagine how powerful he could be if he took better care of himself. And how much more comfortable in his own skin he’d be, which would help with so many of his bitter self-recriminations.

Penny is Not Dealing. Wow, that break-up with Micah was rough. She has a few more moments of self-realization than Simon and Baz do, but she’s also completely caught up in her own magical world, culture, and plans for the future; she has trouble reconciling what Shepard tells her, and is still processing (accepting? Healing?) from not only that breakup, but everything else that has ever happened to her and Simon. Penny copes better, but still not necessarily well. Her can-do, will-do attitude is a huge boon, but when it fails? Yikes. I rather feel like she had overly-rationalized (maybe even over-simplified) every trauma she went through with Simon, and … the world isn’t rational or simple at the best of times. I really, really hope she can come to terms with that (and that we get to see it).

Simon and Baz Together Are Not Dealing. It goes without saying that these two NEED to talk. But their separate issues are a huge roadblock — I feel like the chances of misunderstandings occurring are high. Each is convinced that they are bad for the other. Baz is slightly better about it, but he’s so afraid of the consequences of broaching the subject, he simply won’t. And the thing is? His instincts aren’t wrong. Simon does want to break up with him. It’s based on the whole you deserve better than me assumption, but Baz is actually sensing correctly that Simon is on the verge of leaving him. They need to deal with their own, separate traumas, and they can do that together or apart, but they need to start healing in some capacity. I fully believe that they can be together, even with a break, but that break needs to come with communication? Point being, we all go through healthy and unhealthy periods, as individuals, as part of a family, as part of a couple. They are right smack dab in the middle of a rough, not-so-healthy part — however they cope with it, (TALKING AND LISTENING ARE MUSTS), we at least know that they love each other. Love alone is not enough, but it is a powerful, wonderful force in their corner.

The expansion on magic implies legion of ways in which to exist, and such is the case for coping with pain, sadness, regret, and all the other fun aspects of being humans who experience trauma in innumerable ways. Sometimes we choose things that are unhealthy as a stopgap, because we’re not ready for the work and pain that is healing. Y’all, healing sometimes is on par with the issues that made it necessary — in simpler terms, it can really, really suck at the start. Again, some of you may come from different perspectives, but this struck a chord with me. 

I definitely went in with the expectation that all the issues would be laid out, and then addressed … We got the first half in spades … Did not get the second, nope.

Third Thing: The structure of this book implied right from the start that things may be unresolved, but, er, it was still a bit hard to deal with — having an epilogue at the beginning and a prologue at the end implies to me that this second book is a launch point. The prologue at the end is the start for the next (hopefully larger) narrative. That makes Wayward Son something like a sprawling behind-the-scenes look into these characters before we launch into their following, more detailed story. 

But I didn’t feel too great about having been plunged so deeply into this ‘verse, only to not have a lifesaver tossed my way … Which is to say, it kept me breathless, and knowing that people survived allowed me a reprieve, but the core of this novel — the overall mental well-being of Simon, Baz, Penny, and Agatha — had me tight in its grip from the beginning and then just … kept right on squeezing at the end. Even tighter. 

I don’t mind a plot-based cliff-hanger, but the fact that all the emotional and character arcs were left hanging as well? I felt like I got a decent resolution, or partial conclusion, on a few plot points, but next to no resolution for the emotional and/or psychological arcs. That I have a lot more trouble accepting. Particularly when I’ve spent an entire book with characters forced to live in each other’s space, in close quarters, and still not communicating. I wanted to rip out every beautiful thought Simon and Baz had about each other and throw it in the other’s face. Because they were gorgeous and wonderful, and for all that they are currently fractured and bleeding, they so clearly want what is best for each other. They are (mostly) selfless in their love (with a few selfish foibles, but they made sense to me).

I was also rather … not happy with the fact we got no mention of Lucy, of Davy, of them being Simon’s parents. I’m really, desperately hoping we get that in the next chapter of this series.

The positive thing I can take away from this point is that when we get to the next book (and I know there will be one — my copy literally has a number 2 on the spine, which heavily implies series to me), we will be firmly grounded in what is facing these characters both internally and externally.

The biggest issue that lies ahead is COMMUNICATION. I know (I hope like hell) this will be addressed in the next book, but I craved it so, so badly in this. Not just for Simon and Baz but PENNY. They are all sitting on shifting sand foundations now — their worlds have been completely overturned, over and over again in the past year or so, and they haven’t found firm footing yet. When Micah broke up with Penny, I very much thought that was the kick off for a road trip filled with introspection and epiphanies and finally, lots of talking about said introspections and epiphanies — I got half my wish. The latter half, I suppose, will have to wait until the next novel. I didn’t expect all the character/emotional beats to be acknowledged and resolved, but at least some of them, with room for others to be resolved in the next story, so we would have more (and more room) to explore in that novel.

As a result, Wayward Son, for the many things I loved about it, didn’t feel like a complete story for me. It doesn’t stand on its own quite as well as Carry On did. Maybe when the third book comes out, I will retroactively love it more, but for now I’m just sort of … floating along, waiting for that lifesaver. It did, honestly, feel a bit like half of a story. Half a good story, fantastic even, but still … Half.

In addition to these thoughts I’ve shared, here’s where I’m coming from, as a reader — we all come at these books from different places, different life experiences and wants and expectations. 

One of my most formative reading experiences was Harry Potter. I read Harry Potter practically as it came out. I had to wait years between some of the books. By the time the last book arrived, the characters had matured about as much as I had. Because the middle books were so chunky and dense (and I loved them for it!), I was a little thrown off by how slim Deathly Hallows was in comparison, and that ultimately was reflected in my reading — it went by so quickly. While I loved it and sobbed all over the damn place, when I hit that epilogue … that’s the first time while reading that I did a full stop. All the pain and agony of that book, as quick as it had been, had been amazing, and it felt like it demanded some kind of … reflection and communication between the characters, and I thought after ten years of these books, we had a definite basis for an epilogue that could’ve added another third to this novel — maybe one that jumped through the years, showed us different characters at various stages of healing? Something involved and detailed to a degree.

Wayward Son had that rushed element to it … and I think part of that feeling was enhanced due to the lack of resolution to those character/emotional arcs — we were tumbling, running forward into a free fall and then were frozen right at that point before falling.

However, Wayward Son gives me more positive feelings than that epilogue in HP. Yes, it still feels incomplete, like half a story. But Wayward Son isn’t an end. Unlike Deathly Hallows, there is more to come, and that’s what I’m looking forward to most. It definitely has its flaws in my view, but I can reconcile them somewhat, as you’ve seen.

(There is also a whole thing involving the way these sorts of arcs would resolve in fanfiction versus the medium of a book intended for a broader audience, but that would be a whole other post, methinks. Let me know if you want me to discuss that, because I do have some thoughts on it, though they’re a little haphazard at the moment. Um. Assuming all this rambling isn’t wildly boring and/or awful for you.)

Final Thoughts: At the end of the day? I loved reading this book, even for all that I wanted to reach into the pages and knock the character’s heads together. I said, “Oh no!” out loud when I reached the end, but it was because I desperately wanted more right then and there. The fact that I want more means that, despite any flaws, I’m still on board for this universe and its characters — I still love all this magic, and this dragon boy and his vampire boyfriend :)

And now, 2000 plus words later, I am done, holy crap. If anyone actually made it to the bottom of this, thank you? Not too sure how coherent I was, but I hope some of this was of value to someone :) *many hugs*

Edit: Apparently I still had some things to say, so here is a sequel to this ramble — Simon and Baz Carrying On Like Wayward Sons.

[trashballerina]

BNHA Fics I really like

Btw, the ones with a ⭐ are my favorites

journey to the past 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15046934

Izuku is five years old the first time he's saved by heroes. He's an instant fan of the woman in pink with her cheerful smile and the man with his ice powers and fine-boned features, even if they both refuse to tell him their names.

For most of his life, Izuku has been the centre of villain attacks, but he has never been injured. Every time, he's saved by bright, unknown heroes—heroes who smile at Izuku, and ruffle his hair or ply him with hugs, and seem mesmerised by how small he is.

Heroes that the rest of the world doesn't believe exists.

Opinion: Honestly, it’s really pure and heartwarming with a side of angst. Seeing a young Izuku fanboy is adorable and from what I remember it's pretty well written. I honestly really love this one.

Lies in the guise of truth

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124007/chapters/35067359

All Might is the world's #1 hero, the symbol of peace, the pillar that the world knows they can stand on. He dominates every room he's in, from press conferences to his Hero Agency.

It's pretty easy for everyone to overlook Yagi Toshinori, All Might's 'quirkless secretary'. But he's still there.

Opinion: I really love Dadmight. Like I really love Dadmight so I may be a bit bias. It diverts a bit from canon, but I was alright with that. It’s wholesome, cute, and Toshi deserves some love 

I Would Understand  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12729852

Shinsou Hitoshi had a bit of a problem, and that problem was that he’d gotten attached to Aizawa Shouta. And somewhere along the line had started seeing him as a parental figure, a replacement for all the foster home parents who’d passed him along and never quite done their job.

A kid who's been in foster care his entire life spends a normal, average day after training with the teacher who seems to care a little too much.

Opinion: I have found myself revisiting this fic thrice already lol. Honestly, the first chapter is my favorite and well written--as are the other chapters. I love the melodic and somber atmosphere of some of the scenes and it really feels so sweet but hits me in the feels. The EraserMic in here is beautiful and great Dadzawa.

Ghosts of Flowers

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19851709

Shigaraki gets the chance to carefully sift through the pieces of his recovered memories and tries to hold them close.

There is something that bothers him a bit though: Hana seems—oddly familiar.

It’s not until he’s reviewing the U.A. training exercise footage their mole got them that he realizes it.

The Yaoyorozu heiress, with her long, dark hair, her elegant eyes, and her confident smile, she looks just like—

But she can’t be Hana.

Opinion: I love this one a whole lot. The concept is interesting and executed really well. I really love the characterization of the characters and you get some great internal dialogue and inside thoughts. While I do think the story goes a bit fast, I really enjoyed and understand there’s a lot to tell in ten chapters. 

Not a Spare Part

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18974530/chapters/45052543

In one universe, Tony Stark closed his eyes to a world where Superheroes were a rarity.

In another universe, Tony Stark opens his eyes to a world where Superheroes are the norm.

(An AU where after the events of Endgame, Tony Stark finds himself inhabiting the body of a young quirkless boy named Midoriya Izuku and figures out that the world could use... another Iron Man)

------- Basically, Izuku becomes Iron Man.

Opinion: I really like this fic. Tony is giving Izuku the confidence he needs and makes some new friends and builds old ones. 

Reconfigure  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893972

It's been years since the League of Villains was disbanded. Out on parole and stuck in therapy, Tomura Shigaraki is coasting through life. While he's no longer a villain, he's not exactly a productive member of society either. When an awkward past fling shows up, he's met with a shock: a 3-month-old baby girl. Turns out motherhood is hard when you're a serial killer. Suddenly saddled with the responsibility of a child, Shigaraki has a choice: keep his life the boring way it is or become a father for his kid he didn't know he had.

He knows nothing about being a good parent (and neither does the recently paroled Dabi/Touya Todoroki), but help comes in the most surprising of forms, specifically pro hero Uravity. All Ochako Uraraka wants to do is be a hero, so when she stumbles across the former villain with a baby, she can't help but worry. With Shigaraki clueless, Uraraka decides to do her best to help. What starts out as a chance meeting between two old enemies turns into something else as they find themselves in a strange predicament and more people get involved. They say it takes a village to raise a child. Sometimes, it's a handful of mostly reformed villains and the heroes they tried to kill when they were teens.

Opinion: Alright, before you dismiss this one, hear me out:  Tomura/Ochako really works in this fic. This fic has become one of my favorites because of how its written, characterization, and Tomura’s child--because I’m a sucker for wholesome parent and child content. I honestly really love this fic and had a lot of emotions throughout.

Something Still Remains  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737019

“Are you Shouta?” the shadow-man asks, and his tone is polite but there’s something verging on almost desperate behind it.

Shouta considers. He’s unarmed, facing an unknown person who knows his home address and his first name, he hasn’t slept in thirty-six hours, and he’s wearing kitten-patterned pajama pants. Despite all of that, he’s still confident in his ability to handle himself in a fight, but nothing about this situation is making sense, and it’s sending him slightly off-kilter.

Starting with how the shadow man knows his name.

“Maybe,” he says, after his silence has dragged on a beat too long. “Who’s asking.”

Opinion: It’s a one-shot, but a heckin good one at that. The tone of this fic is so gentle and quiet. Also, Kurogiri characterization is great. I’m absolutely craving more.

How to kidnap an underground hero and an UA General Studies student- A guide by Present Mic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23068645/chapters/55178836

Hizashi knew what the villains were planning, he was one of them after all. But they wouldn’t hurt what was his and the plan was rather simple. Really.

Step 1: Convince them that it is just going to be a family holiday and that they desperately need a bit of a break

Step 2: Get Shinsou to take quirk suppressants, make him believe it’s a good thing and that it would help him, tell him that they would wear off on their own, not that they do

Step 3: Put the pills into tea, not coffee, the latter could cause health problems

Opinion: I have so many feelings about this. Like way too many. It’s not finished, but I need more. Erasermic, Shinsou, and Eri, and literally everything I love

it's a chatfic, but with villains

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777448/chapters/26554635

DABnation added NotDeadpool, Ketchup, Magic Mike, BIG MEATY, MoonMoon, FidgetSpinnerPro, MAGNIFICENT, and Loan Snake to the group.

Stab Lick Delicious:Why is Kurogiri crying DABnation: i think DABnation: he realized he made a mistake

Opinion: It’s been a while since I’ve read and it’s unfinished, but I remember having a really fun time reading this and having quite a few laughs.

Karma in Retrograde

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14924609/chapters/34574417

When Dabi is struck by a de-aging quirk that regresses him to the most influential part of his life, he finds himself turned back into a sixteen-year-old U.A. General Studies student with lots of self-esteem issues, parent problems, a destructive quirk that he can't manage, and no memory of the years that he's lost - not to mention the fact that his little brother is now the same age as him and one of the top students in the U.A. hero course. In U.A.'s attempt to make up for what they missed and help the Dabi of the past, present, and future, he is placed with the only students that know him and have yet to find out what truly makes the difference between a hero and a villain. There, they must face the question of whether he can change or his destiny is already set in stone.

Opinion: I really like this fic. I really love young Dabi. It’s been a while since I’ve read, but I really love this one.

komorebi  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717599/chapters/39209133

The change can't be immediate, or it’ll seem forced. It has to take time, in order to be realistic. He knows that.

He’ll need to seem like a villain. But he’ll be a hero.

And for that, Hitoshi thinks he’d do just about anything.

Or,

Someone's selling UA's secrets, and Shinsou Hitoshi definitely doesn't have anything to prove.

Opinion: If you haven’t noticed, I really like Dadzawa. This one is super interesting, written really good, and I love the characterization of Shinsou. Like some chapters had me rioting I thought they were so good. I love the alternating moods ins scenes and I feel that I can really feel the atmosphere--if that makes sense lol.

Mendacium  ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297146/chapters/50713442

"Why are you doing this?" Shouta couldn't help but ask. Really, this kid couldn't be much older than his class, and he was already out his risking his life to fight... and was good at it. That was the worst part of all, that a child would act like an experienced soldier in the face of danger. "If you stop now, I won't report you. You can just go on home to your family, and maybe try to be a hero-"

A laugh cut him off, but it was more sad than condescending. "Mr. Trash Bag, I'm doing all I can to get home. But like hell I'll be a hero. I've been used by the government too much." A slight European accent colored his words, and his Japanese was a little hesitant, but the determination was clear. "I have to admit, though, your quirk is really awesome. The ability to stop others' energies... remarkable."

The boy tensed, and Shouta activated his quirk on reflex.

"Too bad it doesn't work on me, then. Can't erase what you don't have, after all!"

OR: Edward didn't want to help Truth. He didn't want to go to a different world to defeat yet another Father. He didn't want to become a vigilante there.

He also wanted his brother back. The choice was obvious, even if Truth is a massive asshole.

Opinion: 10/10. Superb. Love our short funky blond alchemist. There’s ling chapters, great Edward Elric, and it had me rolling a few times with laughter. I thoroughly love this fic. 

Demons of the Past  ⭐ 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17642501/chapters/41601551

For Enji Todoroki, hero name Endeavor, reconciling with the past is easier said than done. Even more so when a dead son comes back to haunt him.

Opinion: I had this before BUT HEAR ME OUT! This fic is absolutely amazing. I was blown away with the characterization of Enji and I know so many people hate him-- I included--but I think his perspective is interesting. The high emotional scenes really had me feeling. Honestly, give this fic a try and you’ll see what I mean.

Black Cat Cafe  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15442725/chapters/35844969

Aizawa Shota was a man tired of life, bitter and jaded from the endless horrors of the world. Six years ago, he disappeared, his existence erased.

Redeye is a stoic man with a mysterious past, who runs a tight shop, cares for his young ward with his whole heart, and makes a flawless cup of coffee.

He also has an unabashed fondness for stray cats.

(Otherwise known as a bitter Aizawa makes café Switzerland, adopts twenty hero-in-training children, some villains, and Shinsou, and then kicks All for One’s ass into next week. And maybe falls in love.)

Opinion: This is the one bois. I think this is my favorite bnha fic. The concept, the characterization, the PINING. I am absolutely in the with this story and the author.

Sure As the Setting Sun  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111294/chapters/27462717

Mob never aimed to be a hero, despite being an apprentice to one. He only wanted to make sure his quirk never hurt anyone ever again. However, an incident that occurs in his third year of middle school spurs him into action despite his wishes. Mob enters into UA academy, the top heroics school in all of Japan, and winds up with several new friends and much more trouble than he bargained for.

Opinion: It hasn’t been updated for a while, but seeing my two favorite cinnamon rolls together melts my heart. Mob is in the hero course but has the moral dilemma of fighting, and honestly, it is so interesting to see how it’s handled. 

_________

Well, I hope you enjoyed the list. I really tried not to star everything (I like them all!). I’m probably going to make more for different fandoms and more in-depth tbh. I had a lot of fun doing this! If anyone has any fic recommendations for, please don’t feel shy to send me some! I love talking about writing!

[vaultofqueenorion]

Review of The Handmaid’s Tale

This book hit me like a ton of bricks. I get a sick feeling every time I think seriously of it, and it chilled me all the way to the bone. And yet, it is such an incredible book, in all its psychological horror. I think the worst part is that I see attributes and slivers of the book in everyday life. There’s a truth to it, and it doesn’t ring hollow. 

Read the book. But read the book only if you can stomach it, because it is truly gruelling. I would never call this a good book. Interesting, observant, thought-provoking, yes. But it is not one that has ever or ever will bring me entertainment.

Trigger warnings / TW / Content warnings: the book goes into detached detail with rape, forced pregnancy, murder, hanging, angry mobs tearing apart living people, shootings, killings, massacres and total oppression. Do not read if you are sensitive to any of these subjects. 

The Title

The title befits the book in two ways; first, it is the tale of Offred (as we know her only), a handmaiden to the Commander. The Commander is likely Frederick R. Waterford, as is discussed in the epilogue of the book, but that is never confirmed. 

What is a handmaiden, you ask, if you have never seen the popular Hulu series or heard of the book. A handmaiden is a woman (girl in the book to remove agency) that is ‘bound’ to a married couple who are unable to conceive children - in the book, we hear only of the whereabouts of the handmaidens of the Commanders and their Wives. 

The handmaiden is stripped of her name, her family, her identity, and she has to serve the couple - she is forced to give them children in a twisted ritual that apparently has root in biblical texts. Basically, she is raped in the presence of the couple in order to bear children for barren women who could otherwise not do so. 

The title also refers to the name of the ‘item’ which is a series of cassettes written into a manuscript discussed at the conference of the ‘Twelfth Symposium on Gileadean Studies’ in the year 2195. 

It is a has-been; a recollection of the events recorded by the same woman from whom we read the story, and the speaker at the conference makes several jokes throughout his speech to keep the mood light and the audience entertained. 

It is a detached study in the history of America when it crumbled to a totalitarian patriarchal society that oppressed women in drastical terms and through drastic means. 

The Characters

Offred is meek yet strong-willed. Outspoken yet scared. It is as if she lives as a chameleon, never quite touching the ground of who she really is, but instead latching on to the world and society around her. 

The most remarkable thing about her is, in fact, her normality. She wonders, she becomes angry and yet she doesn’t do anything. Because what can one person do against overwhelming odds? When the other option is death, do you choose to live in submission?

The quote is one that I feel sums up her character. Instead of raging at the world like the heroes we see in stories, she tries to change the very core of her being to align with the wishes of new society. 

She does what many ordinary people would do, simply because fear is one damn powerful motivator. She feels she has no other choice. And she holds on to hope, throughout it all. Hope that she might - just might - see her daughter or her husband again. Hope that she might break free. 

We never do find out whether she finds absolution for that hope or not. 

The Commander lives a parallel life to the handmaidens. In all actuality it seems he lives a parallel life to the women of the dystopian world. He says that he wants Offred to have a pleasant or at least bearable existence, but what he does is that he gets her to indulge in things that he wants to do. He dresses her up and parades her around in secret bars where other girls are ‘working’ as if he owns her - which shows us that he kind of believes that he does. 

Even when he gives Offred something - a magazine - he doesn’t really think of how it is for her.

It is not only ignorance - it is also a lack of wanting to know. He simply doesn’t care enough about her existence to know that she cannot do so. Or he pretends to, playing the ‘good guy’ who doesn’t have anything to do with the hellscape Offred lives in. 

The thing is, this kind of ignorance is commonly participated in throughout society - just take a look at the men who say that they suddenly ‘understand how women feel’ when they pose as women online. Or the white people who ‘never knew how bad POC had it’ because they simply never bothered to look. 

It just hits a little too close to home, that’s all.

Serena Joy / the Commander’s wife is a chilling person. To be a woman, to see what is being done to other women, and yet still somehow hating them for it, as if it isn’t the higher up around her - including her own husband - who have orchestrated this. 

And then there’s this quote:

It does have several meanings to it. To Joy it means that she longs for children, that she wants them so badly that she will do anything in her power to get them. To Offred it means that if she cannot provide a strange family with children through rape, she will be shipped off to a faraway place where she will likely starve to death

Perspective, indeed.

Offred wants so desperately for her friend and the personification of the rebellion in her mind, Moira, to go out in a ball of fire. To burn the whole damn thing to the ground and either walk away, a cigarette in hand, or die trying. 

It seems that there is something in her that longs to be near her, as if Moira is the ideal that she strives towards, and when she never hears from her or sees her again, there is a melancholy and yet an emptiness to her words. 

She talks about their relationship once, before it all went to hell, and this quote is from that:

Luke. Luke, Luke, Luke. Offred misses Luke, and of course she does. He was her husband, the man she was waiting on while he cheated on his then partner, and the father of Offred’s daughter. And yet. 

I hated him so much. 

Just the mention of him sent spiders crawling down my spine, and really, the cheating was bad enough. Even worse was the small signs of misogyny - him saying that Offred losing her job was no big deal, that they would get through it together. Him joking with her about it - about how she could stay at home now, how he would have the power. 

No, I really didn’t like that casual display of superiority. 

Offred’s daughter is part of the next generation of Wives. Sent off to some lucky childless family, this eight year old girl will be groomed and bred into the oppression around her, and at some point, she will stop questioning the world. 

After all, as Aunt Lydia said to Offred:

Offred’s mother is a full-blooded feminist, which causes her to be shipped off to die early on. She’s an abortion advocate, and one of her most telling quotes is:

As a reply to when Offred in the past says that Luke’s teasings are nothing. But the mother understands. Understands the work that it has taken to get this far, and the work that needs to be done, lest they slip back into oppression.

And you know what? People languished in their complacency at the time of the coup, and the totalitarian society crept into the shadows, settling more and more and consuming the light as time passed by.

The Plot

The plot is really not the remarkable part of this story. Yes, Offred goes to town, befriends a fellow handmaid (this one is part of the resistance, peeps!), attends the ceremony, is taken to the Commander’s office, then later to the forbidden bar. 

The places aren’t so much important as what Offred observes. The small injustices, the doctors and scientists handing from the Wall, the Particicution in which the handmaids tear a man apart because he has allegedly raped someone (which is then told to be untrue; he is part of the resistance group, and handmaids murdering him with their bare hands is a good way for the totalitarian government to get rid of him). 

In truth, the handmaids have no real chance of getting themselves out, if they do not collaborate with Mayday, the resistance group. In truth, they are stuck in their miserable places, and that is why one of the earliest quotes from Offred is so chilling:

This is also why the handmaids live with the bare minimum of utilities - they are watched as they bathe, no light fixtures are present, matches are forbidden, knives unsupervised are forbidden. 

Because so many have killed themselves in desperation to get out of the hell that they have found themselves in. 

The Language

Margaret Atwood especially puts focus on the horror of the world that Offred lives in through two means; the conference / historical notes at the end of the story which brings a light and humorous view on the totalitarian society, and the on-the-verge-but-not-quite tone of hopelessness that Offred uses to describe her tales through. 

Aunt Lydia is often the catalyst for this kind of hopelessness. In the times where Offred tried to convince herself that this really is better. That the world is not quite as bleak, and that she actually has it better now than before.

It is a form of brainwashing that is already beginning to form. And what else can she do, one might think. She has to survive somehow. 

And yet, she brings herself to rekindle a fire once in a while. To open the lid on the anger, the resentment, the fierce cruelty of the world that she is faced with. It is something that she does internally, and one of the more prominent moments of this is when she is faced with the Commander in his office. 

The butter in this scenario refers to a tiny rebellion - an act of survival in a way that goes against the schemes and oppression of the world around the handmaidens. The most telling thing is that he laughs at her - as if the way of coping, the secret tips that are being shared between the handmaidens is nothing more than child’s play.

And it probably is to him. 

With a good standing, a good life and a sweet deal compared to the majority of this society that he helped create, he would never think to ‘stoop’ to such methods. 

The oppression is strong in this one, is all I have to say. 

Notes and worthy mentions

The Ceremony. Ooooh, the Ceremony. Of the most convoluted, terrible scenes I have ever had the displeasure of reading, this detached form of rape, explained as the rape is occuring, was terrifying and horrifying and I really, truly never want to read anything like it again.

Also, Offred calls it something else. She doesn’t want to call it rape, because she feels as if she had a choice - not much choice, but still choice. 

One thing that ticked me off was the mention of Mayday and the Underground Femaleroad - the latter a smuggling ring made to get the women out of their horrible positions. 

And the person at the historical conference calls it a Frailroad. Yes, it’s a shortening of female and road, but dang. And the worst thing is? It is totally realistic as to how it would probably be called - just look at how we treat the witch trials or say feminazi if a feminist speaks up about something that’s a ‘little too radical’. I call BS, is all, even if it just goes to show that Margaret Atwood knows what she’s doing when she writes. 

In conclusion

It is not a good book. It is magnificent in the way it portrays something that many women feel at least slivers of and amplifies them in a way that pierces your heart and leaves you dangling at its mercy. 

Books are meant to entertain, yes, but they are also meant to challenge, to inquire, and to make you think. Rarely has a book stayed with me for this long after I have read it, and rarely have I seen more parallels from the world we live in capable of being drawn to this hellscape that Margaret Atwood has created.

There is truth in this horrifically fantastic book. And this means that I cannot help but give it five paws out of five. The alternative would have been to have given it zero, but the thing is that I have seen society in such a new light after reading this that it wouldn’t have been fair. 

[hopes4gf]

Wings of Fire ( A MHA Fanfic): The Surge

Villains enter the scene and we all gear up for battle.

They all surround us and we engage in fight mode.

”Wanna test out Midoriya’s theory?” I ask Shoto.

”Now or never, sis,” Shoto agrees.

Me and him stand back to back and we use both sides of our power to blast the villains back. I use my blue flame to surround and circle the villains meanwhile Shoto uses his ice to bind them.

“Nice flames, Aki, you're practically doing my job for me,” Shoto says, building ice walls.

”Watch out for those big guys, Sho!” I shout catching his attention.

”You scared to lose to kids? Your adults, put up a fight, damn it!” Shoto says to the villains.

Before they can attack Shoto, I trap them in an ability with my fire called Hell Ring, where the flames form a ring around my opponent and slowly close in on them.

Bakugo is on the other side of the room with a villain pinned to the floor by his grip.

”You move and I’ll blast you ass so bad, that they’ll be piecing you together for weeks,” Bakugo exclaims.

”Well, that’s not very heroic,” Kirishima says.

”All clear!” Shoto signals to them.

”Clear!” Kirishima says.

All Might finally shows up and recites his famous phrase and reminds us to go Plus Ultra.

The police show up and secure some of the villains.

We all go home for the day.

Before I can leave, a hand grips my wrist.

”Call me, loser,” Bakugo says, handing me slip of paper before returning to his group.

I stand there in shock and look at the paper.

”Kirishima convinced me to give you my number. Don’t keep me waiting,” The note reads, with his phone number underneath.

I smile to myself and put his number into my phone as I walk beside Shoto.

”You seem happy, what’s going on?” Shoto asks.

”Bakugo gave me his number,” I say.

”What?” Shoto says, stopping in his tracks.

”And he wants me to call him tonight,” I say with a smirk.

”Dad’s gonna kill you for this,” Shoto reminds.

”Dont think you’d not go down with me. I know about your little girlfriend too,” I say.

Shoto’s eyes widen in realization.

”S-she’s not my girlfriend...yet at least,” Shoto says nervously.

”Oh is she?” I ask sarcastically.

”Not a word,” Shoto says with a huff.

I laugh at my brother’s demeanor.

We make it home and find Dad sitting on the couch waiting for us.

This ought to be good...

”Shoto, Ayamaki, sit please,” Dad orders.

We drop our things and we sit in front of him.

”When I went to UA, there was an event where only the best students would battle against each other in a series of competitions demonstrating their quirks, I want you both to do it,” Dad says in a stern tone.

”You mean the sport’s festival?” Shoto asks.

”Correct. There, you will demonstrate your quirks in the best fashion. This will be your first public debut since the entrance exam. I’m constantly reminded everyday that you two represent what I do for that school. And I know the both of you will excel. These are the foundations of becoming the next number one and two heroes. And the next chapter of our legacy. Don’t mess this up,” Dad recalls.

We both nod in agreement and return to our routines.

As I greet Fuyumi, I turn behind me and see Dad sitting there, thinking and deliberating. It almost reminds me of what I try to do at lunch without Katsuki in my way.

Suddenly, a memory comes to mind.

One day, Dad decided to give me a lesson. A lesson on thinking before I act rather than using pure instinct.

”Analyze what’s ahead of you. Think about it’s shape, the way it moves, and if you look away for a single second. You’ll lose you target,” He used to say.

We went through endless trials that constantly winded me. My brother stood by the door the whole time, covering for my usual place. He would try and peek inside to see what he would do to me.

He would scream orders at me and grip my skin underneath his fiery grasp. Eventually, that day he finally cracked in front of me. Showed me his true colors.

He threw a knife at me. I missed.

He sliced my arm wide open and I had never seen so much blood in my life. He stared at me with those cold blue eyes of his. My enemy was ahead of me. His eyes had only one solid color in them. But I knew deep down, he painfully regretted his choice to train me. Because he told me.

Told me I wasn’t worthy of his advice. Told me I wasn’t as worthy as my brother. Told me I’d never make it.

And as he sits there, deliberating as he taught me once to. My scar starts to ache, remembering when he first drew that knife to my skin.

If I’m going to win. I’m not winning for him.

Suddenly, my mind switches the memory of my mother when I visited her in the hospital that one night. She told me to prove my father wrong.

And that’s exactly what I’m going to do at the sports festival next week.

————————————————

The next day,

We all attempt to walk out of our classroom for lunch but are crowded by the other students in the hero courses who are interested in the festival.

”They’re scouting out the competition, idiots,” Bakugo says, slyly grabbing his things and pushing past our other classmates.

”Just like you would,” I comment.

He turns to me with a smirk on his face and winks.

“We’re the ones that defeated those villains. At least you know what a future pro looks like,” Bakugo says, scouting the crowd.

“Now, move it, extras,” Bakugo says sternly to the students.

”You walk around calling them extras just because you don’t know them!” Iida scolds.

Bakugo scoffs and pushes through the crowd.

“Bakugo, what’re you doing?” Kirishima asks.

”These people don’t matter, what’s important is that I beat them. Just ask Aki,” Bakugo says, then continuing through the crowd.

Later, we all head to the stadium to prepare for the events of the afternoon.

"Is there something going on between you and Bakugo?" Kirishima asks me.

"We've spoken a couple of times. I'm pretty sure you can already tell but he's competitive for a reason. He puts up a front because he's terrified as hell of losing. He'll never admit it personally but he uses it as a coping mechanism. He wants power so he does feel hopeless. If you're asking for my opinion, he does it because he knows what if feels like not to have power,"  I admit.

"I've definitely picked up on that, I don't think it's very manly to hide your fear. It should drive you to be better," Kirishima says, giving me his thoughts.

"Listen, you're one of his best friends, I can see that, if you wanna make him loosen up, be real with him. And help him actually say what's on his damn mind," I advise.

"Well that's one way to put it," Kirishima comments, recognizing my slight harshness.

"That's the only way to understand it when it comes to him," I say.

Soon, I join Shoto's side and we both look at the TV monitors, we both spot Dad sitting by All Might.

"Both of them are watching," He comments.

"What do you think will happen if we mess this up?" I ask.

"As long as one of us succeeds, I think we'll be fine," Shoto says.

"Obviously, it's you who'll succeed," I say sternly.

"You're probably right. Dad's really been pushing me lately," He says in a monotone.

My eyes soften. I realize that Shoto doesn't have a single ounce of emotion in his voice. Instead of acknowledging me, he's hyper-focused on what he'll do.

I close my eyes and walk away from him, he calls after me, but I ignore him.

He's gonna leave me. I sure as hell know it.

We all head to the entrance of the Festival, where Class 1A prepares to go out. Shoto gives me a concerned look and I glare at him. We all head out confidently, and we look around as we see several heroes and adoring fans in the crowd.

I spot Dad and All Might looking down at us, but Dad doesn't look me in eye, he stares beside me at Shoto. I scowl at move forward by Momo.

"What's got you all fired up?" She asks.

"My old man's in the crowd," I tell her sternly.

"Damn, I didn't know this was so important," Momo says.

"He wants us to join his hero agency. They do these festivals to scout for interns and sidekicks. My father has 38 sidekicks, he wants me and Sho as his 39th and 40th ones. Me and him decline every damn time, but it seems like he's getting even more desperate with time. Especially, with Shoto. Every one knows that he could care less about me," I say in a serious tone.

"What? But you're his daughter," Momo questions.

"But Shoto is his masterpiece," I say honestly.

"And you're not okay with that," Momo realizes.

At this point I'm at the verge of crying in front of all my classmates. I wish I could tell them all about how I feel, but with my dad staring down at me, I can't risk it.

I choke back own tears and settle my focus ahead, where Midnight stands at a podium.

"Welcome to the annual UA Sports Festival!" Midnight announces.

My mind starts to wander, thinking about the pressure placed upon us. My dad looking to me and Shoto as his future legacy, Shoto kicking me aside, my classmates questioning my relationship with Bakugo, Bakugo getting curious about my family, my friends and their praise of my quirk, all this pressure is boiling over. This is the breaking point.

Midnight asks if any classmate would like to share any words, before any of us can go up, Bakugo walks forward.

He taps the mic to check it.

"U-um, all I'm gonna say is...I'm gonna win," Bakugo says calmly.

"I knew he was gonna say something stupid like that!" All of Class 1A says including me.

The crowd boos at him and I see from the corner of my eye that Dad narrows his eyes.

Soon, the first challenge is presented and we all start to team up in groups.

"Icy-Hot, get your ass over here," Bakugo calls.

"Aki, I need one last member on my team," Shoto calls.

I narrow my eyes at Shoto.

"If I'm going to be anything to you, it's certainly not last," I spit at him, huffing and walking towards Bakugo.

"Family drama, eh?" Bakugo asks with a smirk.

"I've been ready to beat that son of bitch since the entrance exam," I say, cracking knuckles.

"That's the spirit!" Bakugo agrees confidently.

Kirishima, Mina, Sero and I hoist up Bakugoso he can capture our teams headband points. Kirishima stands at the front using his hardness quirk to protect and me and Mina stand on his sides, using our quirks to defend and Sero stand at the back to defend the rear.

The battle begins and I use my ice quirk to shoot icicle daggers at the headband, they come back to us like boomerangs and Bakugo captures them.

"Nice shot, hot stuff!" Bakugo compliments.

"I'll keep 'em coming!" I say in return.

Bakugo smirks and leaps towards Midoriya whose in the air.

"God damn it, Katsuki!" I yell.

Present Mic catches on, announcing his departure to the crowd.

Sero uses his tape to bring him back but his headband is stolen.

"Kirishima...change of plans...lets kill all these guys!" Bakugo says in a low growl.

Before we know, Kaminari uses his electricity to create smoke, through the smoke I see Shoto freeze the ground completely, I use my Hell Ring to protect the group, fighting back.

"Let's go!" Bakugo says.

"Seriously, we're counting on you!" Kirishima says.

"Die!" Bakugo exclaims, charging up his explosions.

A blonde bowl haired guy copies Kirishima's hardening to dodge Bakugo's explosions.

From the corner of my eye, I see Iida blazing past Midoriya, capturing his headbands, leaving him with zero points.

Bakugo leaps towards the blonde kid again and grabs his headbands, leaping us to third place.

"Bakugo! Don't act on your own!" Kirishima advises.

"We have to get third place, you idiots," Bakugo says, hitting Kirishima's head various times.

"Hit it, Icy-Hot!" Bakugo orders.

I create an ice platform pushing us forward and he accelerates it by using his explosions.

He grabs the blonde kid's last headband and we leap to second place.

I watch from the side as Todoroki dodges Midoriya's attack...

He used his fire quirk. For the first time since middle school. I bet that made Dad smile.

Bakugo leaps off once again towards my brother, trying to capture his headbands but...

"Times up!" Present Mic screams.

The crowd erupts, reacting to the challenge.

"Are you okay?" Me and Kirishima ask.

Bakugo only hits the ground beneath him as he's planted face first.

My brother leads first place succeeding me.

I help Bakugo off the floor and slap him.

"That's what you get for acting alone, you dumbass!" I yell.

"It's not my damn fault the time ran out!" Bakugo yells back at me.

"Guys, it's over now, you might wanna-" Kirishima starts.

"No! It's not over until we get first!" Me and Bakugo both yell at the same time.

We look at each other dumbfoundedly, both realizing we said the same thing at once.

We both look away and blush. Mina grabs my arm and we all walk to the inside of the arena.

As I stand in the waiting room, I think about Shoto and Dad's influence on him.

Is Dad the reason he's been distant? Why do they doubt me? I see Shoto and Midoriya slip away from the room and I follow them.

When I reach their destination, I realize I'm not alone.

"What're you doing here?!" Me and Bakugo both whisper yell.

"I'm going to see my brother, frankly, what are you doing?" I ask.

"I'm going to see Deku, now shut up so I can hear," Bakugo says.

He towers above me as we both eavesdrop.

"Are you All Might's secret love child or something?" Shoto asks.

I snicker softly at my brother's question and Bakugo kicks my ankles to shut me up.

"Endeavor's my old man. If you are, that makes you more of my enemy. Since he couldn't surpass All Might, he moved on to his next plan. I'm sure you know what Quirk Marriage is," Shoto starts.

My eyes widen. I feel the air grow thick in my lungs and my eyes water. Why is he saying this? Why is Bakugo listening?

"Forcing people into marriage. He won over my mother's relatives and got ahold of my mother's quirk. I will beat you using only my right side. My mother's quirk," Shoto says, starting to walk away.

"I'll beat you too," Midoriya says, emotion building in his voice.

I look at Bakugo and see his eyes soften.

Mom told him. Mom finally told him the truth.

What I wanted to say to Bakugo finally came out. Before Bakugo can turn to face me, I bolt. Tears stream down my eyes as I run. Running as fast as I can past all the doors and hallways. I find an empty room and light a chair on fire. I scream and sob, breaking everything in sight.

"Fucking asshole! You damn idiot!" I scream.

I drop to my knees and sob. The once locked door is kicked open. I don't look up until i feel arms wrapped around me.

"Shh, it's fine," Bakugo says softly in my ear, cooing me.

I cry deeply into his chest as memories rush through my head. The memory of hearing mom's screams, seeing Shoto's scars. Touya leaving. Natsu's depression. Dad training me. Every moment of agony and heart break rushing through me. Each one more painful than the last.

"Get away from me!" I say, trying to get Bakugo off of me.

"Aki," Bakugo says.

I look up and see Bakugo's crimson eyes staring back at me. His eyes are sincere for the first name. The sound of my name coming from his mouth rings in my ear.

He said my name.

No nicknames, no jokes, just...my name.

"That's what you wanted to tell me. That one day in the classroom. That your father was a damn scumbag for doing what he did to your mother," Bakugo says.

"I didn't want to say anything because I knew you'd lash out at me, saying that your nothing compared to what he did," I say, choking through tears.

"Why would I lash out at you for that? The only reason I stuck with your ass is because I knew you were lonely. And I guess I just saw how shitty your brother treats you. If anything he's like that scumbag for treating you like you're invisible," Bakugo admits.

This guy is spilling out my emotions like he's reading my mind. Someone who I thought to be rash and destructive is...caring and calm.

"I usually don't do this sort of thing but, I guess you're someone I actually gave a damn about," Bakugo says.

I sniffle and he wipes my tears away from my cheeks.

"You good now? Bakugo asks.

"I'll be fine. I just need to take my mind off a few things," I say, getting up.

Bakugo blushes as he hesitates on his words.

"If you need anything, just ask me," He mutters.

I smile as I continue to wipe stray tears. I kiss his cheek catching him off guard.

"Thanks for that, by the way," I say, leaving him alone in the room as I walk down the halls.

I stop suddenly as something catches my eye. I feel my breathing slow down as I see my father standing there, speaking with All Might. Suddenly, his gaze meets mine.

I continue down the halls, rejoining my classmates, disregarding the view of my father.

I rejoin my group and notice that Shoto isn't back yet. He's probably searching for my father.

"Oi! Todoroki,  you good?" Mina ask from across the room.

"Yeah, I'm okay now. Just trying to cool down," I say to Mina as I stride over to the group of girls.

"The boys tipped us off during lunch that there's a cheer competition," Jiro says.

I smirk as the idea peeks my interest.

"Bet. I'll join the group. But I have a couple requests if we wanna win," I say.

Later, we head out to the arena for our performance and the crowd swoons. Momo stands at my side as we get into formation. I look to the stands and see my Dad return with All Might, his eyes widen as he spots me shaking my pompoms.

I then look at the boys who are now waiting in the stands. I watch as our group's jaws drop, me and Mina wave at them and they all blush. Especially Katsuki.

Our music hits and we start strong. The crowd goes insane at our professional demeanor. Dad watches confused by my sudden interest in dance. The thing is, I secretly joined dance team in middle school to get away from my toxic household. That was my only coping mechanism up until now. Me and Mina decided to throw together some choreography mixed with improv to wow the crowd since Mina also has the same passion.

My gaze then focuses of Katsuki as I move with the music. Katsuki stares at me like I have two heads as I roll my body, not caring who sees.

The fact that I was just throwing things and crying baffles me. I think that's why he's so shocked at my performance. Soon, it ends and the crowd loves it! We go back into the arena and the others girls praise us for our work.

"That choreo was amazing girls!" Midnight says, complimenting us.

We change back to our PE uniforms and split into our semi-final groups.

"Did you see the look on Denki's face?" Mina asks as we walk through the halls.

"I was actually shocked by Katsuki," I mention. We both stop and hide as we see my father talking to my brother in the hallway.

"Is that your dad?" Mina asks.

"Yeah," I say nervously.

"Should I leave you here?" Mina asks nervously.

"Maybe," I say, trying to listen.

"You're acting disgracefully, Shoto. Maybe even worse than your sister," Dad says sternly as usual.

My eyes narrow. HE is being worse than ME? This old man got his twins twisted.

Shoto walks past him and heads towards my direction.

"Aki, let's go," he says before turning the corner.

I shrivel up and scurry behind him.

I look over my shoulder and see Dad him standing at the end of the hall with that familiar glare on his face.

These rounds better be interesting because Dad might just bust our chops if one of us doesn't win.

[ironverseocs]

OC Drabbles – Original Fiction.

July Prompt #4 – Damien’s Secret

A/N: POV– Rachael Jones, friend and fellow doctor. Unedited.

Something awoke Rachael from her slumber. She blinked up at the ceiling, trying to determine if said ‘something’ happened in a dream or if it was an intruder in the night. She rolled to the left, slipped her legs off the couch, and rose. Ears straining, Rachael was greeted with the typical silence that accompanied darkness. Until…

The sound of the tap coming from the kitchen. Rachael staggered around the couch, feeling her way out of the living room. As it wasn’t her household to begin with, she tripped over an unseen ottoman, barely caught herself on the cushiony top, and proceeded around only to run straight into a laundry basket. She let out an airy “oof!”

The faucet stream stopped outright.

Rachael hoped it was just her friend and not a midnight burglar. What kind of intruder would use the sink? she reprimanded her own mind as it flashed to the ‘wet bandit’ gag in the old Christmas movie Classic, Home Alone. Rachael had always been able to separate fiction from reality without overlap, so she cast aside the baseless anxiety and pushed onwards through the blanket of night.

“Damien?” she called at just above a whisper. In the stillness around her, the volume of her voice was jarring.

The padded footsteps halted in their tracks. She could picture the man turning on the spot, attempting to see where Rachael stood. At that moment, she happened to slip into the kitchen. Across the room, silhouetted by moonlight in the frame of the door on the other side, was Damien. Rachael had been friends long enough to pick him out without the aid of features. It was a kind of knowledge that came instinctually. She could be turned the other way as he approached and still somehow know it was him and not Doctor Doyle from the radiology lab or a nurse with a question on certain proceedings or the janitor telling her to move her feet because she’s standing where he needs to mop.

“Why are you awake?” she hears him ask.

“I heard something. It woke me up,” she explained as simply as he would. Two can play at that game, she thought.

“Hm.”

So straightforward and no-nonsense he was, he didn’t even have the decency to commit much effort into his replies! Rachael found her fingers itching to curl into clubs. Relax, it’s no big deal, she coaxed herself out of the anger alongside two long breaths, he just does this every time. It’s not you, it’s him. She stifled a dry snicker at the last bit; never would she ever consider dating Damien Briggs, for a multitude of reasons.

“Why are you up?” she initiated like all the conversations beforehand.

She caught the shrug of his silhouette.

“I’m not tired.”

Scrunching her gaze, Rachael read between the lines: “You mean, you couldn’t sleep.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“One’s insomnia, one’s just too much caffeine. I could be convinced that in your case it’s both.”

“I’m not tired,” he pressed.

“You might be able to fool the nurses, but you cannot fool a friend,” Rachael said, crossing her arms. She liked to think that one of the only reasons they had a relationship was due to her obstinate nature. She saw how little he connected with the people in the same line of work and correctly assumed that that fact stretched into his personal life as well. Seeing that made her determined to get to know the young man she met in med school. How right of a decision it was to become his friend.

“Why are you trying so hard?” Damien said flatly.

“Oh, I don’t know, because I care about you?”

That earned a bout of silence.

“It’s not rocket science,” she followed up in response to his evident shock. When he still didn’t offer up any indication that he’d heart, she persisted, “Why are you up this late?”

Rachael saw his shoulders rise and fall. Feeling he was on the verge of saying something, she held her tongue despite the impatience building in her chest.

“You’re right. I can’t sleep.”

“Does it have something to do with one of your patients?” She waited a beat before clarifying: “the girl?”

The silhouette didn’t move. The silhouette didn’t utter a sound.

“You know what?”

That got the silhouette to bristle.

“If you’re not going to sleep,” Rachael said only to immediately drop the harshness of her tone with her next words, “join me on the couch?”

“What are you doing?”

“It’ll be like our old, intern days. Come on, I’m not taking no for an answer,” she said.

“Do you ever?” Damien replied only for Rachael to shrug it off. She knew herself.

The silhouette traversed the kitchen, melting into shadow for a brief stretch before emerging a couple feet from her and reflecting a silver stream of moonlight.

The two of the heaved down upon the couch’s cushions. They hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights; something about chasing away the shadow would chase away the purity of the moment, as well. They spent more than half their lives under sterile lights, Rachael liked the contrast.

“You’ve been more distant than usual,” she spoke up after a minute of silence. “That’s saying a lot, I know, even for these last four years. What’s going on?”

“It’s…” ‘It’ was a promising start, but unfortunately for Damien, Rachael wasn’t satisfied with a one-word answer. Could it even be called an ‘answer’ if it didn’t answer anything? “It’s complicated, okay?”

He was getting desperate.

Sometimes, desperation led to revelations, so she pressed harder.

“I can handle complicated,” she said. Lifting her feet onto the cushions, she shifted to the right so she could face Damien. She saw a faint trace of light on his hairline; even in the darkness, he couldn’t face her, favouring to stare at the hearth instead. “What I can’t handle is my friend refusing to even talk to me outside of work. And barely talking on the job.”

“I wish I could, Rache, I do,” he replied. “It involves too many things to explain right now.”

“You really mean ‘right now’, or are you hoping to evade this forever?”

“You want honesty,” he stated.

“No, I want you to lie to my face,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s that… It involves something that I’ve, that I’ve never told anyone before.”

Rachael blinked. She wondered if by ‘anyone’, he truly meant everyone and if that ‘everyone’ included his late-wife. “Even Adele?”

She just barely caught him nodding. Sitting back and facing the hearth as well, she took a minute to contemplate the weight of his answer. She told her wife everything about her day, the good and the bad, and everything about her innermost dreams and desires, faults and fears. She couldn’t imagine holding something back. What could Damien be harbouring that required the utmost privacy?

“You didn’t murder anyone, did you?” she asked, mostly joking (but the part of her which still clung to foolish fantasies flourished in the dark).

“No.” Good to know Damien’s sense of humour still didn’t exist, Rachael thought to herself with an inheld chuckle.

“What is it?”

“You do realise that telling you when I couldn’t even tell my– tell Ad– tell…”

That’s when he broke. Rachael felt it. It wasn’t a collapse. It wasn’t a backwards heave. It wasn’t a curl into himself. It was a freeze. He sat absolutely still and silent, blinking a couple times with an absent gleam in his eyes. It could have been a film of moisture upon remembrance or regret, but Rachael had the sense not to comment. Instead, she raised a hand to his farthest shoulder and leaned into his side.

“I think I can understand, D. That was dumb of me to push you,” she apologised. “But whether you tell me or not, whatever you decide, won’t affect what you had with Adele. Didn’t you love her regardless? ‘In sickness or in health’?”

He didn’t move, but Rachael heard his lungs begin to inflate. Hers did, too, in tandem, in empathy.

“From time to time, I see the future,” he said.

For the longest time, she had no idea how to process that. Not only was it a way of agreeing with her – a sign of trust he hadn’t even given the woman he loved- still loved, and what was Rachael supposed to say to a gesture of trust so big? – but it could only be a joke. There was just one problem with that: Damien wouldn’t joke. Especially not at a time like this.

She tightened her arm around Damien and exhaled the breath she forgot she’d been holding.

“You’re… saying that you're psychic?” She frowned. “Coming from you…” She shook her head. “What does this have to do with work, with your patient?”

Damien broke free from her contact and walked to the opposite wall.

“The day she came to the hospital, I had a vision,” he admitted. Rachael could hear the biting of his bottom lip in his tone alone. Reluctance oozed out of every syllable. “I’ve had a few visions just like that, I thought it would be of her arrival. But then I had another one. I realised…”

He fell silent for so long, Rachael nearly forgot that she was in a conversation with him. She shook her head, blinked through the fog of “this is crazy”, and prompted: “You realised?”

“It’s not just this ability I’ve always had. Not anymore.”

Whatever he was going to say next, Rachael braced herself for the doubling of the fog.

Through the darkness, she heard a bird begin to chirp.

“Ghosts.”

——

Forever Tag List: @ocfairygodmother​

[idleheartbeat]

I Didn’t Ask You

Author: idleheartbeat

Pairing: Suga x reader

Genre: Angst, Romance, Arranged Marriage AU

Rating: PG

Word Count: 3.5k

He was so cold and distant. You assumed he hated you, the way he would never look at your face or give you the time of day. If anything he seemed irritated when you would try and get to know him. All your attempts were met with glares and silence and eventually, although reluctant, you gave up.

It was a silly crush then, when you had admired him for afar in your college days, but it was a painfully ridiculous one now. It was silly you had thought you could catch his eye. It was ridiculous that you thought the two of you could ever fall in love.

But that's what was so difficult about it, he drew people in with his creativity and passion, he could get a crowd. It was so instant, so natural. You wanted so genuinely to understand him, you could see how much he was hurting beneath it all. You could see how he tried to internalize his pain except for in his music, but even then it wasn’t authentic. It was made glamorous by the beauty of the lyrics and sound and it couldn't be enough. It couldn’t heal him. Making the music couldn't be a complete comfort; he needed something physical, something alive.

It was clear to you he needed someone permanent. 

A stable, loving companion. But it was only as you spent time with him before the wedding that you realized he may need it, but he didn't want it. At least not with you. It had been early into the discussions, as you tried desperately to bond with him but to no avail, that you first began to realize this. Was he going to call it off? You had fretted. You could live with that but you needed to know, your parents were itching for you to get married as soon as possible.

“Suga?” You had asked gently as the two of you wandered down a city street walking his dog. He glanced at you coolly but didn't stop moving. Hesitant, you continued on. “Are you alright?”

He shrugged and didn't answer, just kept walking and when you stopped moving he snapped at you to hurry up. You made yourself accept then that he didn't want warmth from you and, from what you had seen, no one else either. The only thing he consistent behaved sweetly towards was Holly. Oh God, were you jealous of a dog? Genuinely, you had become bashful in the moment thinking this may be true. Suga shot you confused looks when you stayed several paces behind him and kept your head low for the rest of the walk.

Presently, you smiled to yourself and shook your head at the thought as you walked out of work. “Let it be funny,” you told yourself. No worries anyway, you weren't that invested in him. You couldn’t let yourself be.

In fact, you figured it was best to try and move on. You could still have a happy life, it would just be lacking in the romance area. Well, more like vacant but still! You had a career, freedom, pets, a lovely home- the list could go on. And you could daydream of him being tender. It was an odd idea though; him laying beside you in bed or brushing the hair out of your eyes. You wondered what his laugh sounded like. It was those simple yet close moments of intimacy that seemed so unrealistic. It still plagued you, the reality of what a sham your marriage was.

But you were trying. You had that much.

---

“Here.” Suga's voice came sharp as you had just entered the house and you squeaked in surprise. You knew he’d be home at this time time today but usually he was in his room, not right at the entrance.

A full smile spread across your face when you saw what he was holding. Having assumed it was somehow related to your job, you were surprised to be greeted by the sight of flowers; a bouquet of purple anemones and pink tulips.

You took it carefully, not entirely convinced it was meant for you. “They're lovely,” you breathed, the words airy and admiring, “But why?”

“They were being given away,” He dead-panned before walking up the stairs. You stood there in awe from the whole sequence. It would be comical if it didn't hurt too much to laugh, it was like slapstick for the goon that gets hit.

Despite his rudeness you put them in a vase because they were lovely, even if he didn't agree. You didn't care if someone had begged him to take them. It didn't matter because you loved them, their colours were vibrant- giving the dull, unused kitchen life. You smiled every time you saw them and cried a little, soft sobs, when you had to throw them out.

---

The question is: to cook or not to cook? That was what you pondered as you waited in line at the cafe. You had been considering making Suga a nice dinner because he had been ridiculously busy at work. His job as a music producer and lyricist put him on strict deadlines especially since he had started to get more well-known. People were learning his name and wanting to meet with him, get his input, use his talent.

This hectic schedule, although his dream, meant he didn't rest enough. At least that's what you were able to gather from the early hours he'd leave and the fact that he often never came home at night; sleeping at his studio you supposed. This was something you had been prepared for, you had known his mistress was music, everyone did.

His mother had implied more than once that he was bad at taking care of himself, he would forget to eat, put off sleep, anything was second to work. His friends had called you to ask if he was okay because he hadn't been answering their calls and texts consistently and you worried he was skipping meals or only eating convenient, non-nutritious foods. Being his spouse, even if not by his choosing, you wanted to make sure he was okay.

But Suga always seemed so hateful towards you. Cooking him dinner couldn't be too big a deal right, he wouldn't mind. Or would he? Would he throw it out without even taking a bite? Well, maybe your mind was being a little dramatic. But if you did cook him something what would it be? You hadn't the slightest idea what he liked. You two rarely spent time together, the only time you had eaten with him was at the wedding. What was served that night?

As you pondered this you realized it was your turn to speak. The cashier asked for your full name, which you found a little odd, and your order. You answered the two questions and saw the cashier smile wide before informing you it was already paid for by someone.

“Who?” you asked excitedly. “Who paid for it?” You had been so lonely since moving to Los Angeles with Suga in hopes of better opportunities for his career. You worked 3rd shift and struggled to make friends due to your odd schedule; you were awake when everyone else was usually asleep. Plus, your husband was extremely busy and, even if he wasn't, he wouldn't necessarily want to spend time his free time with you. This surprise made you giddy- the idea that someone had been thinking of you.

You adored this coffee shop since moving to LA and had mentioned it to your parents and friends back home, had one of them really called and done this for you? Well, some one must have.

The woman shrugged innocently. “Sorry, they told me not to tell you who it was from.” You narrowed your eyes at her careful use of gender neutral pronouns. From her demeanor she seemed to be already on the verge of telling despite your minimal insistence so far.

You felt confident you could get her to crack. “Come on, tell me. I won't tell them you did, I just need to know so I can thank them in my own little way,” you implored sweetly.

Immediately she caved. “It was your husband!” She revealed, practically squealing. It was clearly the cutest thing to this young worker as she swooned and grinned at you. To you, it was a complete mystery. 

“My husband?” The worker tilted her head. 

“Yeah, Min Yoongi.” She frowned, “Are you not married? Maybe I got the wrong person, maybe it’s someone else with that name?”

You shook your head, face hot, “No, that’s my husband, I just…don’t know..” ...why would he do this? 

Had you mentioned this shop to him? Well, you must have, and he must have listened. A blush crept onto your cheeks at the thought of his thinking of you, making your face even hotter. It suddenly occurred to you that you were holding up the line. As you returned to the present you noticed the cashier staring at you perplexed

“-don’t know what I did to deserve such a sweet gift,” You tried to recover the moment. “Thank you, I'll make sure to repay him,” You replied, then giving her a wink, added, “slyly of course.”

As you went out the door and began sipping your drink you wondered what to make him. How to repay such a sweet, unexpected gesture. It was clear now he wouldn't be angry, or at least shouldn't be, if you cooked him something but the question of what to serve remained. What did you have at your wedding? Oh yes, you ate steak! But wait.. wasn't their a choice between dishes.... You sighed and took a long swig of your coffee.

---

“Why did you do this?” Your head snapped up from the book you were reading and you tilted your head at him. It surprised you, you were all the way in the sunroom,you didn't think he knew you went there a lot.

“Do what? Make you dinner?” You questioned as he continued staring at you, hard.

“Yes,” he snapped.

“Oh, um, I knew you would be busy running around all day and that it would be pretty late when you got home but you would need to get up even earlier than usual, and I thought it'd be nice if you could have a meal but not have to cook. I assumed you hadn't had a decent one it a while,” You rambled, nervous from his stoney eyes. You had to continuously remind yourself that you had done nothing wrong because his gaze made you feel strangely ashamed.

“Why?” He asked again.

“I just told you why, I thought it make things easier on you,” You explained, supposing maybe your words were too jumbled before.

You didn't notice until now how tense he looked. “I mean why, why do you care about making things easier for me? You know you're only my wife in name.”

“Of course I know that!” You bellowed, surprised by your own anger. He was clearly surprised as well, usually you were so meek. You took a deep breath and stood up, abandoning your book on the coffee table. “Of course I know. You know how I know? Because you have made it painfully clear you aren't happy about being married to me. But it is what it is and I want us to be able to at least coexist. So, sue me? I might do little nice things for you sometimes. I'm not trying to kiss you or asking for anything in return, okay? So stop being dramatic. I didn’t ask you to get me flowers, I didn’t ask you to pre order coffee for me, and I’m not asking you to love me! So stop looking at me like I've done something wrong.”

In those handful of sentences you had let out so many hurt feelings, all the loneliness and self doubt. You felt lighter until you met his gaze, his eyes were bloodshot and unreadable. All the toughness was soon fading from you. “I'm going up to my room and going to bed. Good luck on everything tomorrow,” you contended before scurrying upstairs.

He didn't say anything, at least not that you heard. So you washed your face and and brushed your teeth and attempted to sleep. But everything that had just occurred kept playing in your head, over and over again. It made you feel nervous, like you were walking on uneven ground. Maybe it was because you didn't know his mind, you didn't know what he was thinking. You could never tell, you knew so little about him.

All you had gathered was little things from living with him and from listening to his songs. You knew he liked sleep despite how often he denied himself of it. You could tell he loved the piano, you would commonly over hear him playing as you read in the evening or tried to sleep at night. You knew his coffee order and that he was picky with music. You could tell he was anxious in social situations, he always hung near you and seemed ready to leave.

But most of these little things were more preferences than personality. They didn't tell you much or give you insight into him, not like you wanted. Maybe you read into things too much, his music and his habits, because you were so desperate to know him.

With all those unpleasant thoughts swirling in your mind, you feel asleep -unsure and solitary- as you had been every night since marrying him.

---

The next day he was gone by the time you woke up and wasn't home when you went to bed. This continued for two more nights until one morning he was there; standing in the kitchen with disheveled hair and baggy clothes.

“I was invited to a party tomorrow night, there is supposed to be a lot of music industry executives there. Will attend with me?” His eyes never met yours as he asked.

And it was odd that he had even asked, it kind of went without saying in an arranged marriage that you were supposed to do these things. Public appearance mattered, you were supposed to be by one anothers' side. In the past he hadn't asked, more informed. “Here's the time, be there” kind of thing. But you didn't question his new approach.

“I would be glad to attend,” You answered as you grabbed a bagel for breakfast. He watched you quietly and when you turned towards him he looked away.

“Suga?” You inquired, stepping closer and searching his face for an emotion.

“What?” He grumbled.

“Are you alright?”

“I-I'm... I'm not sure.” He admitted. You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong but before you spoke he mumbled goodbye and shuffled off. You considered following him but decided against it, he liked space. You'd let him come to you if and when he wanted.

You didn't see him the next morning but he did come home from work at a normal time for once so you two could wouldn't be late for the party. As you drove yourself and Suga there the car was uncomfortably silent; not because you were both wondering whether to talk, no it was pretty normal for neither of you to speak, it was just weirdly quiet. You could hear every little noise, every shift and sigh from him. You imagined it was the same way for him which made you self conscious of your breathing.

“Suga, why not turn on the radio,” You offered, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

“Why do you call me that?” He questioned, listless.

Suga was a nickname you had given him early into meeting him, during your “dating” period. You had thought of it because you would see him being sweet, under all those bitter layers, not so much to you but to children or animals, as well as his friends at times. Sugar is a term of endearment but since it wasn't quite right, his kindness or the relationship you held with him, taking the 'r' off seemed about right. It made the name cooler too, you thought, which you figured he'd like. He always was so cool.

The day you came up with it you two were being forced to meet for a so called “date”. You decided on the moniker after he insisted on buying ice cream for some kids at the park, all while keeping a distance and refusing to smile. So, proud of your creation, you started using it right away. The first time you said it he glanced at you, eyes lingering for a moment, but he didn't protest. As you used it more though he looked at you oddly. “It's a nickname for you,”. You explained. “Suga, S-U-G-A.”

And from there that is what you called him and no one questioned it, his friends started calling him that too. He never complained but he didn't seem particularly fond of it. He just let it be.

But before him all that story translated into a short, reserved answer, “Oh, it just seemed fitting I guess.”

“The first time you called me that I really thought you were calling me Sugar,” He commented. “I kind of thought you were flirting with me.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage as you tried to think of what to say. This conversation, which had hardly happened, was making your heart pound. You stopped at a red light and glanced him and this time he didn't look away. You could see pain in his eyes. There it was again, the heartache you had always sensed in him, even back when you were both fresh-faced students. You wanted to take it away.

“It's green,” He informed you, his tone flat in a defeated way.

You pressed the gas pedal and stared at the road ahead intensely. It gave you something solid to focus on as began to speak, your nerves flaring up more. “Actually, I thought about flirting with you constantly back then.” You failed to mention you still did.

You could see him shift in your peripheral. “Why didn't you?”

“You didn’t seem interested. I thought you borderline hated me.”

“Pullover,” He demanded abruptly. You glanced at him in confusion.

“Why?”

“Please, just listen.”

“Alright,” You replied, uncertain. You turned into the nearest parking lot you could, some restaurant, and parked the car. The minute your hands were off the wheel his lips were on yours. And you stayed like that, kissing tenderly without words or explanation until he pulled away.

“Don't ever think for a second that I don't care about you,” He said, resting one of his hands on yours. “I'm sorry I made you feel like that... I know I was...” He seemed to be searching for a world.

“Rude? Apathetic? Untouchable?” You offered, smiling all the while.

He sighed, “Yes, those things.” Quickly he gave you another kiss. “You were always kind to me and I didn't know what to do with that, not a lot of people have been that way with me. Especially not someone who I had a crush on.”

“You? With a crush? On me? I thought that was just one of my unrealistic daydreams,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

“Oh, it was very real.” At this admittance he became a bit coy, looking out his car door window. “ I have it pretty bad for you.”

You wanted both to kiss him and question him, but you decided on the latter first. “Why were you so mean then? I don't understand.”

He sighed again, seemingly embarrassed. “I don't like getting attached to new people and I was frustrated with how you made me feel. And sometimes, I would try to flirt or hint at my feelings but you either didn't notice or didn't requite-”

“Didn't notice,” You cut in. He gave you a small smile before continuing.

“It bothered me because I was going to marry you and I didn't know how to handle the fact you would always be in my life but you still seemed inaccessible. I was frustrated and my feelings were hurt to be honest.”

You frowned, “How did I hurt your feelings?”

“I can't blame you, it's not your fault. But like, with the flowers. I bought you those flowers because it was our anniversary, I knew those flowers in those colours were your favorite, but you hadn't remembered the date.”

Your eyes widen in surprise and confusion as you fretted, “But we were married in the winter, you gave me those flowers this summer!”

“The date of when we began dating,��� He explained. “Remember, we had met up for the fifth time to get to know each other and I said, 'I guess it's official now, I'm your boyfriend'.”

Of course you remembered, the two of you were awkwardly holding hands when he said it. The words were lifeless and you had suspected either it was a jab about how much time he was being forced to spend with you or he was simply informing you of the relationship status. All the same, it made you a blushing mess. Instead of reply you looked away and changed the subject. Then it occurred to you. “Wait, was-was that you flirting?”

He nodded.

“But you sounded so matter-of-fact!” You exclaimed. “How was I supposed to know you had a thing for me!”

He threw his hands up in defense, “I was doing my best!” You giggled, it all seeming so silly and sweet in hindsight. You gave him another kiss.

“We can properly celebrate from now on, if I had known I would have gotten you something. I didn't think you considered that day special.”

“I find it to be very special,” He said. “Now let's go home.”

“What about the party?”

“Who cares, I'm tired and I want to see if your bed is more comfortable than mine.”